by John Fast
“I told you: the trailers. And the guy who set the whole thing up has been talking about it on the global stream for weeks.”
“Okay, here’s a harder question: What about those times when the meta-computer filmed itself while it made those strange noises? What was that all about?”
“It was thinking, humming, figuring out the next scene.”
“What do you mean?”
“The film is different every time it’s shown. It’s audience specific.”
“Come again?”
“The meta-computer is connected to the theater’s in-house cameras. It scans the audience and searches the public data bases for information about that audience. Remember the screen I signed when I bought our tickets?”
“I wasn’t paying attention.”
“It was a waiver, allowing the meta-computer to include us in its research. In its film.”
I stopped short on the sidewalk and stared at her.
“You mean the meta-computer assembles the movie on the spot?” I said, astonished at the thought. “As we’re watching it? And the movie is about the people in the audience? About ....?”
“Yes, Narcissus, the movie we just saw could have been about you. That‘s the point. But we’re in Princeton, remember? I’m sure there were plenty of other mad scientists in the audience who are also looking for the ultimate theory of everything.”
“And if we went back for the late show …?” I asked, knowing I wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway.
“A new meta-computer Wonder Tale, based on the lives of the people in that audience. It’s a new film technique. The guy calls it, ‘In-Site Cinema.’”
“I got to see this.”
“Lead on, Doctor Fast.”
I glanced over at Aster as we walked back to the theater and felt grateful to her for getting me out of my house, and out of my head.
CHAPTER 47.
The Secret Door
I cleaned myself up the next evening and had dinner with my kids at Takla’s new house, just across town. Ahi, our old nanny, and Sophie, our new nanny, were taking turns caring for the children while Takla was in Tibet. Ingrid had been so traumatized by Jack’s death that she had resigned. We didn’t blame her for what happened, but we didn’t ask her to stay either. The emotions on both sides were just too raw.
Anna, Lahi and Tenzi were four going on five, but, like all Highbrid Kids, they were far more advanced than their chronological age. We were sitting at the table in the dining room, finishing dinner. Anna had been quiet the whole evening, while Lahi and Tenzi had been chatty.
“Where were you, Daddy?” Anna suddenly asked. “I didn’t see you for a long time.”
“I know, Anna,” I replied. “I’m sorry. I’ve been working very hard … but I should have come sooner.”
I looked into her bright blue eyes and wondered if my guilt and anger over Jack’s death was just the latest excuse, in a long list of excuses, for my failures as a father.
“Work, work, work,” Tenzi chanted, shaking his head.
“I’ve been working on the railroad, all the live long day,” Lahi sang.
Tenzi giggled into his mashed potatoes.
“Why do you work so hard, Daddy?” Anna asked, frowning.
What could I say? Nothing could justify my absence. So I just told her the truth.
“I’m trying to find something, Anna, and it’s very hard to find.”
“What did you lose?” Lahi asked.
“It’s a little complicated …,” I began.
“I lost my owl key chain,” Tenzi moaned. “The owl is made of red and white plastic and the white part comes out and you hold it up to the light and you put it back in and it glows in the dark.”
“That’s funny, Tenzi,” I said.
“Not funny, Daddy,” he replied, looking sad.
“No, I mean it’s funny because you lost your key chain and I’m looking for a key.”
“What does it open, Daddy?” Anna asked.
“You might say it opens the universe.”
“The universe has a key?” Lahi asked, her eyes wide. “Where’s the door?”
“Everywhere and nowhere,” I said.
“That’s silly, Daddy,” Lahi giggled.
“It is silly,” I agreed. “Do you remember the story about the Big Bang?”
“The birthday of our universe!” Lahi exclaimed.
“Happy birthday to you!” Tenzi shouted.
“Use your inside voice, Tenzi. And yes, Lahi, the Big Bang is the birthday of our universe. And from that beginning everything in our universe continues to evolve.”
“I’m almost five,” Lahi announced.
“And our universe is almost fourteen billion years old,” I said.
“That’s old,” Tenzi said.
“And you know how Mommy and I combined our genetic codes to make each one of you?”
“That’s why I have Mommy’s pretty eyes!” Lahi exclaimed.
“That’s right,” I said. “And our universe has lots and lots of other codes like that, and I’m looking for the key to all of them.”
“What will you do with the key, Daddy?” Anna asked.
“Magic,” I replied.
“M-A-G-I-C?” Lahi spelled the word breathlessly. “Like what?”
“I can use the key to unlock the secrets of the universe,” I said, embracing my necessary delusion.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Daddy,” Lahi said.
“Can you find Jack with that magic key?” Anna asked, bursting with joy.
All the air rushed out of my lungs. I opened and closed my mouth twice as I struggled with the fact that, yes, that was exactly what I was trying to do.
“No. I’m sorry, Anna,” I finally managed to say. “Jack died … but we’ll always love him.”
Anna looked crushed.
“I miss him,” Tenzi said, looking miserable.
“Me too,” Lahi said, her eyes welling up.
Anna got up, walked over to me and sat on my lap. I held her tight with one arm as I reached across the table with my other arm and caressed the soft cheeks of Lahi and Tenzi. Just then the kitchen door swung open and Ahi appeared with a chocolate cake.
“Who’s ready for dessert?” She asked, her eyes glistening with tears.
“Chocky! My favorite!” Lahi yelped.
“Yum, yum, yum,” Tenzi said, rubbing his stomach.
Anna shook her head and held me tighter.
“Whatever happens, darling girl,” I whispered in Anna’s ear, “remember that I love you, Lahi, Tenzi, Jack, and Mommy … now and always.”
Anna nodded without looking up.
I glanced around the table at my beautiful children and decided that I couldn’t stop working. They had already paid the price for my failures as a father and I had to redeem their sacrifice, even though nothing I did could redeem their sacrifice.
CHAPTER 48.
The Illuminati
The Faculty Research Co-ordinating Committee reconvened in the conference room two weeks later. Krishnapur opened the discussion.
“The early reviews of the Quantum Photo-Sphere are very positive,” he began. “The Engineering Department has confirmed the feasibility of Dr. Fast’s design, and they have begun to work out the specifications. I will let Dr. Mayakovsky explain the rest.”
“Thank you, Aryat,” Mayakovsky replied. “The production team at Precision Instruments have reported that they can build the Sphere in multiple sections.”
“What about the seams?” Paxton wondered.
“They can integrate them so the micro-mirrors can be properly aligned. Likewise, the production team at InfoMatrix, Inc. have reported that they can engineer the crystal nucleus, and the crystal eye.”
“What’s the bad news?” Brickman inquired.
“As with the first vacuum tube computers,” Mayakovsky responded, “the first Quantum Photo-Sphere will have to be somewhat large.”
“How large?” I asked
apprehensively.
“Twenty-five stories,” Mayakovsky stated.
I shook my head.
“And that means it will cost more than all the Great Pyramids of Egypt combined,” Brickman added.
Mayakovsky nodded.
“There must be another way,” I said.
“We are not giving up, Dr. Fast,” Krishnapur assured me. “One day we may even develop a portable model.”
I nodded and wondered if I would ever be able to avenge Jack. We spent the next several hours going over the details of the technical reports from the Engineering Department, Precision Instruments and InfoMatrix, Inc.
*************
After the meeting Paxton and I walked around the great lawn of the Turing Institute. I hadn’t told him that I’d destroyed The New York Stock Exchange’s meta-computer, because I couldn’t tell him, but I had told him that Rathe had been spying on the Highbrids.
“I consulted with the Turing Institute’s lawyers,” Paxton began. “They met with Rathe.”
“What happened?”
“He claimed it was a misunderstanding.”
“What else did the lawyers say?”
“They can’t figure out what Rathe is after, but they put him on notice: any more spying and we’ll take him to court.”
“We can do that? To the Director of Cyber-Police?”
“We can challenge him in court. Our lawyers will stay on the case, and the Genetic Institute is going to hire some additional security to make sure Rathe and his friends stay far away from the Highbrids.”
“I appreciate your help.”
“Any time. This affects all of us. If Rathe asks for another meeting, send one of the lawyers instead.”
Paxton headed back to his Pattern Recognition Lab, while I headed back to the Q-Lab. As I turned to go, I wondered how I could repair the damage I’d done to The New York Stock Exchange; I wondered how anyone could monitor the activities of the Cyber-Police; and I wondered how I could get the money to build a gigantic quantum computer.
*************
I sat in my office for almost an hour, but couldn’t concentrate on my work. So I decided to take another walk. I drove to the small parking lot at the southern end of Carnegie Lake, left my car, and headed north on the towpath. I hadn’t been back there since my daily rounds with Jena, but I tried not to think about that, or anything else. When I reached the northern end of the lake about forty minutes later, I turned around and started back. Just then I saw a bald eagle swooping toward the water. The huge raptor made a quick splash and grab, then flew back up again, beating its wings to lift the large silvery fish in its talons. I admired the skill and grace of the bird, and its fierce strength. And I started to think about the genius of nature and the nature of genius again.
“What good is it to be a so called genius,” I muttered, “if I can’t accomplish anything? And even my so called genius isn’t enough. I need focus, commitment, intensity. ‘Work, work, work,’ as Tenzi put it. A minimum of ten years of concentrated effort. That’s what it takes to get anything significant done. That’s what the experts say. And yet, after all the years I’ve invested, what do I have to show for my effort? Nothing! I’m completely and absolutely stuck. I’ve come to a dead end. I want to build a machine that costs trillions of dollars, and I haven’t got a nickel in the bank.”
I walked a little further and recalled the old witticism that Jena liked to quote. When asked why he robbed banks, Willie Sutton had replied, “Because that’s where the money is.” And when I asked myself where I could get enough money to build a twenty-five-story Quantum Photo-Sphere, the answer was obvious. I silently thanked my mother.
“I can fix The New York Stock Exchange,” I said out loud. “I can build my quantum computer. I can evolve my quantum algarithms. I can avenge Jack.”
I hurried back to my car. I had a lot of work to do.
CHAPTER 49.
The Metaphysics of Ambition
I slapped a portable holo-projector onto Boyle’s desk at The New York Stock Exchange two days later and hit the switch. The ten-inch-tall holograph of the gleaming titanium Quantum Photo-Sphere rose from the flat top of the projector.
“What the hell is this?” Boyle asked.
“As I’m sure Rathe already told you,” I replied coolly, “it’s the fastest, smartest computer ever imagined. A computer made of light. It’s the solution to all your problems.”
Boyle turned his large shiny head toward me and stared into my eyes.
“Was that your plan all along?” He snapped. “Did you spike our meta-computer so we’d have to pay for your fancy new machine?”
I wasn’t surprised by his anger, or his accusation.
“That’s absurd,” I replied. “My quaticals escaped from the Manhattan Tournament streamsite ten years ago. I had no idea they’d colonize your system. That’s not an excuse, it’s just a statement of fact. And that’s why I want to make it right.”
“Let me get this straight,” Boyle said sarcastically. “You sabotaged our meta-computer with your old algarithms and now you want us to build a quantum computer with your new, and much more dangerous, algarithms floating around inside?”
As I’d suspected, Boyle was much better informed than he pretended to be. Nevertheless, I stood my ground.
“The Quantum Photo-Sphere will run the standard quantum algorithms that’ve been in development for several years,” I explained. “They’re perfectly safe. And once everything is set, then, yes, I also plan to run my new quantum algarithms. But they’ll be contained inside a quantum firebox inside the quantum matrix. They won’t be able to get out.”
“Like your old quaticals,” Boyle stated pointedly.
“All the safety protocols will be reviewed by the Executive Committee of the Global Stream Association,” I assured him. “You need the best computer in the world to run The New York Stock Exchange, and I want to give it to you. Everything I’ve done in my life has led up to this moment. I want to build a machine that’s powerful enough to decipher the universe. And it will have no trouble running your global network. In fact, it will give you all the information you will ever need, and more.”
Boyle stared intently at the holograph, his eyes gleaming. If information was money, and information definitely was money, then I had just offered him all the money in the world. And I knew he couldn’t resist the idea.
“How much?” He asked gruffly, trying to maintain the bargaining position he had already lost.
“One percent of every transaction the Exchange handles for the next thirty years.”
“An ungodly amount of money,” Boyle noted.
“At least,” I agreed.
He put the tips of his fingers together and stared out the window.
“I’ve always wanted to spend an ungodly amount of money,” he said. “And we have to do something quickly, before the entire system collapses.”
He turned back to face me.
“I don’t trust you, or your new machine, not one bit,” he said. “And neither will the Board. You and your friends at the Turing Institute can try to convince us …”
He paused and consulted his calendar.
“Thursday at 2:00.”
“We’ll be here,” I assured him.
*************
Boyle sat at the head of the enormous conference table in the NYSE Boardroom. The Directors sat along the sides. Mayakovsky, Brickman and I sat at the foot. The executives wore their tailored suits, we wore our rumpled jackets. I hadn’t told my colleagues the entire truth about the critical state of The New York Stock Exchange’s meta-computer, because I couldn’t. Instead, I’d told them the meta-computer was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of global trades and the entire system needed an immediate upgrade. I’d also warned them that Boyle and the Board would be extremely hostile to our presentation, and I’d suggested we let the facts speak for themselves.
“While this kind of advanced engineering and construction project would normal
ly take a minimum of three years to complete,” I began, “we believe that, with the resources of the Exchange, the job can be done in one year. Of course, that will require three teams to work around the clock at each production facility, and three crews to work around the clock at the building site.”
I dimmed the lights and hit a key on the remote. A holograph of a glossy, black, multi-rectangular meta-computer appeared in the middle of the table–with the gleaming, titanium, Quantum Photo-Sphere hovering just above it.
“A new, specially designed, meta-computer will upload and download the Quantum Photo-Sphere,” Mayakovsky stated.
I hit another key and a glistening crystal eye hovered over the Quantum Photo-Sphere.
“We’ll laser link the meta-computer and the Quantum Photo-Sphere directly to the satellite net, and thus to the global stream, via the crystal eye,” Brickman noted. “Of course, we’ll also have fiber-optic ground links.”
“A glass pyramid will house the new machines,” I added. “The new meta-computer will occupy the first four stories of the pyramid, while the Quantum Photo-Sphere, framed in a glass cube, will occupy the next twenty-five stories. We’ll build a penthouse office on the thirtieth floor, and install the crystal eye in the apex. A separate glass obelisk will house your executive and administrative offices. In short, ladies and gentlemen, I give you, ‘The New World Stock Exchange.’”
I tapped another key on the remote and a glass cube enclosed the Quantum Photo-Sphere. Then a glass pyramid enclosed the meta-computer, the sphere-within-a-cube, and the crystal eye. A glass obelisk stood at attention nearby. Boyle and the Board of Directors leaned forward in their chairs and studied the details of the architectural model.
“Are you a Freemason, Doctor Fast?” Boyle inquired after a moment.
“Our design proposal for The New World Stock Exchange is an adaptation of the Freemason’s pyramid and all-seeing eye,” I acknowledged. “As you know, these same symbols appear on, ‘The Great Seal of the United States,’ and, consequently, on the back of every U.S. dollar bill. Our design also pays tribute to the futurist Perisphere and Trylon of the 1939-40 New York World’s Fair, as well as to the modernist sphere-within-a-cube of the New Hayden Planetarium. In short, we’ve combined the ancient symbols of the Freemasons with the modernist style of New York City.”