by KB Shaw
“Suppose?”
The question hung in the air expectantly several moments before Meagan answered. “Well, I don’t have any friends—really close friends, I mean. And I didn’t have much of a family life.”
“No boy friend?” Meagan’s sarcastic laugh answered that question. “You are not close to your mother or father?”
“I never knew my mother. She left when I was still an infant. And my father… He was a soldier. Gone a lot, you know. We moved around constantly, so I had trouble making friends, especially knowing I would probably have to pick up and leave in a year or two. Then my father was killed in The Last War, so I am quite alone.”
There was a pause. Jason’s next words were cautious. “Do you consider me a friend, Meagan?”
Meagan Fletcher was astonished that she answered without a moment’s thought. “Yes,” she said. “I consider you a friend.”
“And I you,” said Jason.
“Please give me…”
“You don’t have to begin every request with ‘please,’ Meagan. We’re friends.”
“I thought it was in your programming that all requests…”
“It is. But I find it most interesting that I can override that command in this case.”
What other programming can you choose to ignore? thought Meagan before addressing the multiCom.
“Okay, Jason, let’s see if we can make contact with X-Boy.”
Meagan and Jason searched X-Boy’s pages for more than twenty minutes without luck. It wasn’t any help that Meagan didn’t know exactly what she was looking for. “We could have missed him,” she said as she was re-reading X-Boy’s poem, Solitaire, “Or, we’re wrong about X-Boy being Inside Out.”
“We are still within the time limit X-boy set, Meagan.”
“Obviously, he can track us whenever we access his site. You’d think that if X-Boy is ‘Inside Out,’ he’d see we’re there and contact us.” Then she noticed it. “Hello! Jason, this may be it.”
“What?”
“The last line of the poem, ‘And infinite hope.’ It’s blue.”
“Yes, Meagan. It is now a net link. The source code indicates it links to an unidentified secure site.”
Meagan manually clicked on the link. A password window popped up. There was no clue as to what the password was. “What password?” asked Meagan. “Whose password?”
“It would take me hours to find the proper combination of letters, numbers, and symbols, Meagan, but I have a ‘gut feeling’ that…”
Meagan cut him off as she started typing. “Let’s see if I have the same feeling.” She typed:
inside out
That didn’t work.
“That was my thought too,” said Jason. “Perhaps try it in all capital letters.”
“Yes, let’s try that,” said Meagan as she re-entered the password.
INSIDE OUT
No good.
Inside Out
The third try also failed.
“I am positive we are on the right track,” said Jason.
Meagan counted the letters on the screen. “Jason, there is an odd number of letters in inside out – nine. Let’s try spelling it from the inside, starting with the center letter ‘d’ then working our way out.”
deiosunti
Nothing. “Again, in the other direction…”
diesonuit
An image of a man – no not an image, but a shadowy silhouette – appeared on the screen. “Good evening, Ms. Fletcher,” came a deep, garbled voice. Meagan could tell the voice had been digitally altered.
“And a good morning to you,” replied the reporter.
“Very good!” said X-Boy. “So you have probably figured out my location.”
“May I record this conversation?”
“I’m sorry, but that is out of the question. It occurs to me, as it has to you, that your technicians could filter a recording of my voice. I’m in a very sensitive position here, and I can’t take the chance of being recognized.”
“Do you work for GundTech, then?”
There was a hesitation before X-Boy answered. “Yes.”
“Why do you want to help me?”
“Over the last couple of years, I have grown to admire your work. I trust you, and your integrity has shone through since the announcement of the IHT. While others in your profession were dwelling on rumors and half-truths, you were calling for care. You also blamed GundTech for not supplying the press with the facts. You’re 100% right about that.”
Meagan decided to prod a little deeper. “So GundTech is holding back information.”
“Unquestionably.”
“Is the IHT hazardous? Are they putting those kids in danger?”
“Absolutely not,” he said. “There are no crippled or mentally deranged test subjects lying in a secret hospital somewhere. I think that rumor grew out of the work with the student from Iraq. GundTech has him in a first-rate private hospital outside of Oslo. They are only trying to protect the boy’s privacy and, of course, the secrets of the IHT technology. There is nothing sinister or evil about it.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Let’s just say that I’m in a position to know.”
A thought crossed Meagan’s mind, “That poem, Solitaire. Did you write it?”
“Yes.”
“Is it about the inventor of the multiCom?”
“Yes. He and I grew up together.”
“He?”
“Yes, he.”
“I feel sorry for him. The poem is so filled with the feeling of isolation.”
“Don’t feel sorry. His family protected him very well, as you know. He had a few good childhood friends.”
“What can you tell me about him?”
“He likes kids. I know he’d like to have a family of his own, but he’s afraid he’s getting too old.”
“He’s only my age!” Meagan chided. “Now I’m feeling bad.”
X-Boy laughed. “He’s like you in another way, also.”
“How’s that?”
“All work and no play—you know?”
“Yes, I do.”
“He’s excited about the unexpected benefits the new technology might have. He is also worried about how it might disrupt the world since it is such a giant step forward.”
“Would I be safe to say it is going to be a ‘quantum’ leap?”
“That’s what the world’s leading scientists seem to believe, and who am I to question them?”
“Then you’re confirming IHT technology is based on quantum computing?”
“No, I just said, ‘who am I to question the world’s leading scientists.’ Nothing more… for now. I want you to help me get the word out. I’ll arrange to give you access to GundTech personnel and information, and I’ll let you break the news exclusively as a going away present.”
Meagan was dumbstruck. “A what?”
“As a going away present,” said X-boy.
“I don’t understand.” Meagan was shaking her head in puzzlement.
“We want you here at GundTech. I’ll get you the story of a lifetime, if you agree to come work for us.”
“Me? But why?”
The man’s tone became suddenly serious. “I can’t explain it all now. The IHT is just the tip of the iceberg, Meagan. This new technology must be managed correctly, and a big part of that is information management. Plus, I fear there’s a threat from within… I… we… need your help—the help of someone from the outside.”
“What sort of threat?”
“Not here. I’ll talk with you in person. Watch for an invitation.”
“And what do I call you when I see you? X-Boy?”
“Nah! Just call me Gus.
Chapter 20:
Eternity
THE TROY POLICE had to control the crowd of news people and uplink vans that converged on the small town. They were everywhere—at the high school, at Cameron’s barbershop, at the county courthouse, and, particularly, at Camero
n’s home. All the publicity brought inquisitive tourists from Minnesota, Iowa, and Illinois. There were even protesters (from out of town) who came to picket the high school. If the town wasn’t making so much money from all the visitors, the people of Troy might have gotten upset.
Cameron couldn’t even mow the driving range or pick up balls without some film crew or another following him. Mr. Jeffries, the owner of the driving range, loved the free publicity. People from cities all over the area now came to hit golf balls and play miniature golf in the hopes of being caught by some news camera.
“Do you think GundTech could make me an IHT golf course?” he asked Cameron one day. Another day he said, “I’ve got it! Miniature golf on Mars! Whatcha think of that?”
There was also a great interest in Billy Four-Eyes. Cameron’s father, who was a professional writer, asked his agent if he could work out a deal. Cameron, Rosa, and all the kids who worked on the animation were astounded by the large amount of money they were offered. When Billy finished counting the five zeros following the number three on the check, he looked up at Mr. Rush and said, “Cool!” Mrs. Rush worked with a local bank to create a trust fund in which the money was deposited. It was agreed the money would be used equally by all the kids involved, for their college education.
• • •
IT WAS somewhat easier for Rosa. The ranch was isolated, and the house was behind a ridge almost a mile off the road. Although the sheriff’s department kept news trucks from parking on the road, it couldn’t stop all of the reporters and photographers. A day didn’t go by without a helicopter or two circling the Costas house or scouring the vast ranch with hopes of photographing the cowgirl hard at work on the range.
• • •
SPECULATION about the IHT was running rampant in the tabloid press and sensational media. The worst of the lot was a concerted campaign by the Committee for Responsible Technology, which was soon referred to simply as COMFORT. It was a particularly vile campaign, designed to instill a fear of the new technology in the general public. This was the group organized by the Swiss financier, Josef Calthern, who funded the organization privately. Calthern’s pockets were deep, and the campaign went on unchecked. Meagan’s and Jason’s investigation of Calthern revealed him to be every bit as reclusive and enigmatic as the man behind GundTech. Meagan was proud of the fact that WBN refused to run any of the contemptible COMFORT spots.
• • •
TIME DRAGGED slowly toward the first Saturday in September, the day scheduled for the IHT Academy Orientation. Unfortunately for the American students, orientation started at noon, Oslo time. For Rosa, Cameron, and their families, it would be early Saturday morning.
Meagan Fletcher received a beautifully embossed invitation delivered by special messenger. “Dear Ms. Fletcher,” it began, “You have been selected as one of five world media people to attend and report on the orientation session for the GundTech International IHT Academy.”
So this is the invitation, she thought. I’ll get to meet X-Boy in person—well, sort of.
The invitation went on to remind the news agencies that the Academy was a “Level 1” IHT experience. This meant there would be no physical hologram generated, so cameras were unnecessary and, in fact, useless.
The reporter sat in her darkened office contemplating everything she knew about GundTech, X-Boy, and X-Boy’s friend, the elusive boy genius. She laughed at herself in disbelief for not telling anyone about X-Boy’s revelations.
He didn’t ask to be “off the record.” Did he? She thought. I could have used anything he said if I wanted. But he knew I wouldn’t broadcast anything I couldn’t confirm from another source, and there wasn’t much of a chance of that, was there? Then there’s this fear of trouble from within. What’s that about? How could I help? Wait a minute! Within? Maybe that was a key to getting some answers!
“Jason, are you busy?”
“No, Meagan. Just reading Mark Twain’s Puddin’ Head Wilson. How can I help you?”
“Don’t most programmers sign their work? You know, like artists.”
“Program code is often riddled by identifying marks and surprises called Easter Eggs.”
“But can you identify the programmer by an Easter Egg?”
“Probably not. But, perhaps, in the commenting.”
“Commenting?”
“Commenting is a part of the code that is not processed. It is skipped over when a program runs.”
“Then what good is it?”
“It helps a programmer ‘comment’ or describe the purpose of a section of code. This is very important in organizing the program and in tracing bugs or errors.”
“Well then, could you search the commenting in your own program code for any clues that might help identify your creator?”
It was ten minutes before Jason told Meagan what he had found. When she took it all in, she clasped her hands behind her head and leaned back in her chair. She had the look of satisfaction on her face, but she knew that the time from now to the day of the orientation would seem like an eternity.
Chapter 21:
IHT v1.0
CAMERON AND ROSA were worried and on edge.
“Has Mr. Anderson installed your IHT yet?” asked Cameron.
“No, not yet.”
“The orientation is tomorrow morning!”
“No duh? Aren’t you good at stating the obvious, Cheese Boy!”
“Hey, watch it, Cowgirl!” snapped Cameron.
They both looked away from their screens, silent. Rosa couldn’t stand it for more than thirty seconds. “Sorry, Cameron. I’m not upset with you. I’m just…”
“Nervous? Anxious?”
“Upset,” said Rosa.
“Perturbed,” said Cameron.
“Really pissed off!” said Rosa before flopping her head onto her desktop and clutching it with both hands. Her muffled voice was barely audible. “What if it was all some terrible joke?”
Cameron had never seen her so down. “C’mon, Rosa! You know GundTech’s flare for the dramatic. They like to do everything at the last moment.”
Rosa sighed, shifted her head so she could look up at the screen, and said, “Yeah. You’re probably right.”
• • •
MEAGAN FLETCHER met Pieter Olsen, the GundTech representative who had been present for the first IHT news conference, in her office at 1:30 AM local time.
“What an ungodly hour for a school orientation,” said the reporter as she handed Olsen a cup of coffee.
Pieter sipped his cup before making a reply. “Ja. That’s why there will be only a few academy-wide meetings during the school year. We have students in almost every time zone around the world.”
After he leisurely finished his coffee, Olsen plugged the small IHT adapter into the spare multiCom port in Meagan’s office. “This setup is different than the one you saw during the demonstration,” he said as he removed a compact black cube from his titanium case and set it on Meagan’s desk. “We aren’t generating a holographic image, so the installation is much smaller.” Finally, he handed her the familiar IDO pin.
• • •
CAMERON NOTICED immediately that Debbie White was not carrying the titanium case containing the IHT. Something was wrong. He wanted to run upstairs and contact Rosa. Was she being cut from the Academy, too?
• • •
MAX ANDERSON saw the look on Rosa’s face as he entered.
“You’re probably wondering where the case is.”
Rosa nodded nervously.
“Well, I’ve got good news, and I’ve got bad news,” said Max.
“The bad news is Headquarters didn’t send us the cases…”
• • •
“THE GOOD NEWS,” said Debbie, “they sent us these, instead.” She withdrew an ornately carved wooden box from her bag. It had “The Rush Family” etched in scrolling letters on the top.
• • •
MAX ANDERSON displayed the box so all the family could se
e COSTAS engraved on the lid. He then handed the box to Rosa. “This is for you to open, young lady.”
Mama and Papa crowded in close, their arms locked around their daughter as she unfastened the polished brass latch and lifted the lid.
The entire inside of the box, both top and bottom, was padded with soft foam rubber covered in heavy blue velvet. Nestled in spaces in the bottom pad, cut to fit their exact shapes, were three golden objects.
“These are your personal IDOs,” said Max. “The two pins are for your parents so they can participate at any time. The pendant is for you.”
Rosa’s parents recognized it right away. “May I?” a proud father asked his daughter, gesturing toward the pendant.
Rosa nodded. As her father carefully removed the pendant from the box and placed it around Rosa’s neck, she noticed tears trickling down her mother’s cheek. “What is it, Mama?”
Esmer Costas walked over and lovingly touched an old photograph on the mantle above the fireplace. “It is the pendant my grandmother and mother wore, which was to be handed down to me. It was lost when our house burned down. I was very small then.”
“Well, at least it’s a close reproduction,” Max corrected.
“When you showed me that photo of Rosa’s great-grandmother and told me the story of the pendant, I scanned the picture and sent it to Oslo.”
• • •
“THE THREE PINS are for your parents and Jenny so they can join you in a simulation from time to time,” said Debbie as Cameron lifted a gold pocket watch and examined it carefully. “Your dad told me of your fascination with your grandpa’s old watch and how you couldn’t get it to work. Well I borrowed it and sent it to Oslo. Now it keeps perfect time—and a few other things as well.”
Cameron flipped open the cover of the watch, then held it close to his ear. He found comfort in the gentle tick, tick, tick of the timepiece.
“Now I wasn’t totally accurate when I said these were your IDOs,” Debbie went on to explain. “The pins are of a different design than the previous ones, but they are really only updated ID Objects. What is different is…”