AMPED w-2

by Douglas E. Richards

  “You actually think I did this?” said Rosenblatt, an incredulous expression on his face. “Look, if you say you found this on my computer, I have no choice but to believe you. But I didn’t put in there. Yes, I’ve dabbled a bit in this area, but that’s it. You said yourself that this is far beyond even the top people in the field—and I’m not even one of these.”

  “Okay. I’ll humor you for a moment. If you didn’t put this on your computer, then why don’t you tell me who did.”

  “I have no idea,” responded Rosenblatt with a shrug. His eyes narrowed in thought. “The only possibility I can see is that it was done by a modern day Ramanujan.”

  “Ramanujan?”

  “Yes. Srinivasa Ramanujan. He was a math prodigy who grew up in India with virtually no formal training. Out of the blue he sent a sample of his work to a world class mathematician at Cambridge named Hardy. Hardy recognized his brilliance right away.” He paused. “You ever see the movie Good Will Hunting?”

  The black-ops agent shook his head no.

  “Well, that’s not important. My point is that this Ramanujan was unknown to the world, but was in a class all his own. A guy like that must be responsible for this. What else could it be? I bet he designed a worm and sent it to the computers of thousands of scientists. Don’t know why he’d do it anonymously, but that’s probably what happened.”

  A slow smile crept over Jake’s face. “Very creative, doctor. I’m impressed. But I’m afraid this work was done by an intellect that couldn’t have arisen naturally.”

  “Do you even hear what you’re saying? What does that even mean, couldn’t have arisen naturally?”

  “You know what it means. It means the work required an IQ in the thousands.”

  “In the thousands?” echoed Rosenblatt, rolling his eyes. “I guess that leaves out humans, doesn’t it. So are you suggesting this is the work of aliens?” he finished in amusement.

  Jake stared intently at the physicist for several long seconds, but didn’t respond.

  “I’m sure you’ve overestimated the work,” insisted Rosenblatt, his smile now gone. “Einstein was a low-level patent clerk when he helped usher in multiple revolutions in physics; revolutions that stunned the greatest minds of the day. Or was he an alien too?” He shook his head. “Every year breakthroughs are made that seem beyond the capabilities of human intellect.”

  Jake steepled his fingers and considered the man in front of him. “The difference, as you well know,” he responded finally, “is that even though these breakthroughs seemed beyond human capabilities, other humans could understand them once they’d been made. At least a few.” Jake sighed. “But I’m done humoring you,” he said, his tone both weary and disappointed. “We both know the truth of what I’m saying.”

  The black-ops agent slowly rubbed the back of his head and stared off into space in thought. Several seconds ticked by in total silence. “I’ll be back in a minute,” he said at last.

  As the door opened daylight streamed into the structure, further evidence that Rosenblatt hadn’t been unconscious for long. The black-ops agent returned only a few minutes later, holding two plastic bottles of ice-cold water. He uncuffed Rosenblatt’s right hand, screwed the cap off one of the bottles, and set it in front of the tall, wiry physicist.

  The man called Jake sat down across from his prisoner once again, took a sip from his own bottle, and considered the physicist carefully. “You’ve been lying to me, Dr. Rosenblatt,” he began disapprovingly. “I know that. But I’m willing to overlook the past in the interest of remaining friends. But trust me, actions have consequences. Lie again and you’ll be in a realm of misery few have ever experienced.”

  Jake paused to be sure this had time to sink in.

  “As a measure of my good will, I’m going to tell you a story. I have no doubt you’re familiar with it, but I want you to appreciate that I already know so much, it makes little sense for you to continue trying to be evasive. But I’m not telling you everything I know. Remember that the next time you consider lying to me.” He paused. “Okay then. This is a story about a remarkable woman named Kira Miller.”

  Jake watched Rosenblatt’s face carefully, but the physicist showed no outward reaction upon hearing this name.

  “Kira was a brilliant genetic engineer who found a way to alter the wiring of her own brain—for about an hour at a time. Pop a cocktail of genetically engineered viruses housed inside a gellcap and, presto, in the mother of all chain reactions her brain is rewired, and she has an IQ that’s beyond measure.”

  Rosenblatt frowned in disbelief. “When you said you would tell me a story,” he said evenly, “I didn’t expect it to be science fiction.”

  Jake’s upper lip curled into a snarl. “I’ve been more than patient with you, doctor,” he said icily. “But my patience isn’t endless. Don’t test my good nature any further.” He paused and then picked up as though Rosenblatt hadn’t spoken. “So after developing this capability, Kira Miller murdered several people and fell off the grid. Disappeared. She was known to be behind a lot of bad shit, like working with jihadists to wipe out millions of people. That sort of thing. A lot of people were sent looking for her, but none were successful. Then an ex-special forces operative by the name of David Desh was sent after her. Tough and smart and patriotic. And he found her. But as patriotic as he was, she turned him somehow. With an immeasurable IQ, we can only assume she knew which buttons to push.”

  Jake stopped and took a deep drink from the water bottle he had been holding. Reminded that he had his own bottle in front of him, Rosenblatt did the same.

  “Interestingly, every classified military computer in the land contains a report from unimpeachable sources showing that what I just told you is all wrong. That the evidence and accusations against her were totally false, and that she was never anything more than a misunderstood girl scout. That she was framed for it all. Desh too. Worse still, she and Desh were killed before this came to light.” Jake stopped and locked his eyes on Rosenblatt with an air of expectation, as though he refused to continue until his prisoner made some kind of utterance for him to gauge.

  “But you don’t believe these records are accurate,” said Rosenblatt on cue.

  Jake studied his shackled prisoner for a few seconds longer. “Correct,” he said finally. “In fact, I know these records aren’t accurate. Kira Miller and David Desh are still very much alive. Even without her IQ cocktail they would make a formidable pair. But with the ability to give themselves an insanely high intelligence the world is at their mercy. They could turn entire countries and governments into their playthings. We also know they’ve been recruiting a select group of others for unknown reasons. We suspect most of them are just dupes, unaware of Miller and Desh’s endgame—whatever that might be. Impossible to predict with mere human intelligence.”

  Jake paused. “But despite our knowledge, we’ve never been able to identify any of their recruits.” He gestured suggestively toward the wiry physicist. “Until now, that is.”

  “Me?” spat Rosenblatt incredulously. “That’s what this is about? You think I’m involved with these two people? I’ve never heard of either one of them before. Or of this magical elixir of yours.”

  Jake ignored him. “They’ve done a remarkable job of covering their tracks,” he continued, almost in admiration. “Even more impressive when you consider they had no reason to believe anyone even knew they were alive. We finally realized our best hope was to find work that was being kept anonymous and that was too advanced to be done without Kira Miller’s IQ boost. We hacked into hundreds-of-thousands of computers, including those belonging to scientists and mathematicians who were tops in their fields, like you, and those used by employees of science-based companies and institutes. And we analyzed the contents of these computers. We used our most advanced supercomputers and expert systems.”

  Jake paused and brought the plastic bottle of water to his lips once again. “I can’t begin to understand the techniqu
es that were used to sort through it all,” he continued, “to determine if any of it represented a transcendent advance. But we succeeded.” He paused. “True, the system mostly generated false alarms, but your work was the real deal. A breakthrough of inhuman proportions.”

  Jake raised a single eyebrow. “You may be interested to know the computer pointed us to one other man, in addition to you. Responsible for bits and pieces of work that didn’t really lead anywhere, but that were very advanced. The CEO of a private physics lab named Advanced Physics International in Davis, California.”

  He watched Rosenblatt carefully for any reaction, but his prisoner remained poker faced. An almost imperceptible look of disappointment flashed across Jake’s features, but only for an instant.

  “Is he the next innocent man you’re planning to abuse?” said Rosenblatt.

  “I think we both know the answer to that,” replied Jake, ignoring his prisoner’s pointed barb. “I would have liked to have a little chat with him, yes. But he died from a gunshot wound to the stomach, apparently after surprising an arsonist who had torched his lab. Eleven months ago, in fact. As I’m sure you’re aware. When we tried to trace his background further, we hit an absolute brick wall. Which even makes us more sure he was involved with Miller and Desh.” He raised his eyebrows. “But no matter. I have every confidence that, among other things, you can tell us all about his history. Help clear things up.”

  Rosenblatt opened his mouth to reply but then thought better of it and remained silent.

  Jake leaned forward and his eyes bored into those of his prisoner. “We’ve come to the moment of truth, Dr. Rosenblatt. I need you to tell me everything. This is your last chance. I can’t stress this enough. I won’t tolerate anything less than a hundred and fifty percent cooperation from here on out.”

  “I am cooperating,” insisted Rosenblatt. “You’ve got the wrong guy. I have no idea how this work ended up on my computer. All I know is that I didn’t put it there.”

  Jake frowned deeply. “To say I’m disappointed doesn’t begin to cover it,” he growled. He snatched his tablet computer from the table and his fingers slid over its surface. When he set it back down, the manuscript was gone. In its place was a live image of Rosenblatt’s living room back in Omaha, Nebraska. Two of Jake’s men, heavily armed, were sitting on his maroon leather sofa, looking bored but very dangerous.

  And sprawled on the floor, on their backs, were Rosenblatt’s wife and three young children.

  3

  Rosenblatt gasped and color drained from his face. “What have you done to my family?” he screamed, pulling away from the chair so hard he nearly broke his left wrist still handcuffed to the chair. The pain didn’t even register.

  “I tried to warn you that I wasn’t playing games,” whispered the black-ops agent. “I tried to tell you that you’d prefer physical torture.” He shook his head almost sadly. “The good news is that nothing has happened to them.” He paused for several seconds and then added, “Yet.”

  The black-ops agent removed a cell phone from his pocket and placed it on the table in front of him. “How long this continues to be true is up to you.”

  The camera began to pan around the room, beaming the picture to Jake’s tablet. One of Jake’s men was standing on Rosenblatt’s beige carpeting, in front of his mahogany bookshelves and baby grand piano. The camera settled on a picture of the physicist and his family. Rosenblatt, tall and thin with curly brown hair, cut close, holding his five and seven-year-old daughters, one in each arm. His wife, short and on the plump side, standing behind their eight-year-old son Max. All wore contented smiles.

  Jake raised the silver cell phone to his mouth. “Show him they’re okay,” he ordered.

  Seconds later the faces of Rosenblatt’s family returned, and the camera zoomed in close on one of them at a time. Long enough for Rosenblatt to see their chests rise and fall in each case, ever so slightly.

  “They’re only unconscious,” said Jake. “Sleeping peacefully. We entered this morning before they awoke and administered a knockout drug. I’m trying to do this as compassionately as humanly possible. If you cooperate, they’ll never know what happened, never know they were in any danger. No psychological scars to bear for the rest of their lives.” His expression hardened. “But I’m all done with warnings. The next time you lie or don’t cooperate one of them dies. Period. Fail to cooperate after that and a second one dies. And so on. Starting with the youngest.” He paused and leaned in closer. “Jessica, isn’t it?”

  “You bastard!” screamed Rosenblatt hysterically. “You fucking bastard! You lay a finger on them and I’ll see you rot in hell.”

  “Do you think I want to threaten your family?” said Jake softly. “Did you think I get some kind of twisted joy out of hurting helpless kids? It’s the last thing I want to do. But I will do what I have to do. Make no mistake. And yes, I have no doubt that I will rot in hell, but I can’t afford to be squeamish. Kira Miller represents the single greatest threat to humanity the world has ever seen.”

  “Kira Miller represents humanity’s greatest hope!” shouted Rosenblatt.

  There was absolute silence in the steel shed for several long seconds.

  “I’m relieved that you’ve decided to admit your involvement and cooperate,” said Jake.

  Rosenblatt gestured bitterly toward the tablet computer. “It’s not like I have a choice.”

  “Still, I’m relieved that you recognize that. Please understand that regardless of whatever lies they’ve told you, Miller and Desh have to be stopped. Miller called off her planned bioterror attack, yes, but she’s got bigger things brewing.”

  “Kira Miller is the most brilliant, generous, compassionate woman I have ever met.”

  “She’s brilliant, all right. No denying that. But she’s also a fraud. A serial killer who comes across as a saint. It’s a remarkable talent.”

  “I don’t know where you get your information, but it’s all wrong.”

  “Is it? Kira Miller is a pure sociopath to begin with. But did you know that her therapy has a side effect? It turns even model citizens into megalomaniacs. Into the kind of power mad, unbridled monster you think I am.”

  “Of course I know that! I’ve used it myself. You know that’s the only way I could possibly do the Calabi-Yau manifold work you found.” Rosenblatt shook his head. “But I’ll say it again—you have her all wrong. She enhances herself—that’s what we call it—far less often than she could. Why? Because she knows better than any of us that it leads to sociopathic tendencies and is terrified of letting that Genie out of the bottle too often. And do you know why the group is so small? Because the core counsel sets a higher bar than you can imagine before allowing a new member in. The personalities and ethics of those considered for membership are rigorously tested in ways that only an enhanced intelligence could devise. Only those predicted with near one hundred percent certainty of being able to withstand the effect without turning into a monster are recruited—no matter how promising they seem. She’s careful to the point of absurdity,” finished Rosenblatt.

  And this was true. The purpose of Rosenblatt’s visit to the Institute had been in the hope of adding at least one additional world-class mathematician or physicist to the team, but the trip had been a total failure. They had identified three brilliant men at the Institute who had passed their first level screens and he had come to Princeton to test them further, without their knowledge. All of them had failed. At least by Kira’s standards. He had thought for sure van Hutten, from Stanford, had passed a few weeks earlier, but Kira had given him a thumbs down. They had not added a new recruit in several months now, and he was becoming convinced that they wouldn’t. Kira and Desh had grown too afraid. The more the core council underwent enhancement, the more they realized the dangers of near absolute power and the stakes they were playing for, both positive and negative, the more paranoid they became about making a single wrong choice.

  They had been extremely lucky w
ith the five founding members of the group: Miller, Desh, Griffin, Connelly, and Metzger—the core council, now down to four after Metzger’s tragic death. Each of them had been extremely stable, moral, and compassionate before they had been enhanced. Even so, none of them would have met the current standard. Knowing this, they didn’t even trust themselves while enhanced. They insisted that all members of the group, themselves most of all, only take a gellcap while inside a specially built room, that was locked from the outside.

  But Jake was correct. A single loose cannon, a single mistake that got away, could threaten the entire world. Kira’s own brother, Alan, had been the prime example of this. If he hadn’t been stopped, there was no telling the damage he could have inflicted.

  “She has you fooled,” said Jake simply. “Did she promise you extended life? Is that why you’re so loyal?”

  “I’m loyal because I believe in what she’s doing: what they’re doing. You’ve seen the advances I was able to make while enhanced. In five hours! Imagine the improvements we could make to the human condition.”

  “You’re being naive. First, the extended life thing is phony. The injection doesn’t do a thing. It’s just the ultimate lure to snare anyone gullible enough to believe it. Do you know what she and Desh have been up to during the past year? They’ve been responsible for several major terrorist attacks around the world. And I have incontrovertible evidence that they’re planning worse.”

  “If it’s so incontrovertible, why don’t you show it to me?” snapped Rosenblatt skeptically.