Revision 7: DNA

by Terry Persun

  “No one is as smart as you,” Leonardo said.

  Jesus welcomed the compliment. He could have let Leonardo stay behind and take someone else, but he felt a sense of attachment to him, as one of the first two he had built using his own hands. He often thought of them as his sons. He knew they didn’t think of it that way, but he’d change that once they got things rolling, once he took care of business. A familial hierarchy would benefit the new society.

  “What if they put the receiver on a different machine?” Gatsby said.

  “Well, I suspect they don’t because I found the old unit stored in the warehouse. We could assume that the machine in the future would change because of our interference, though. I would love it if it did,” he said. “Little details like that would be important to note. Curious how time would adjust to our interference like that.”

  “Love it,” Leonardo repeated, probably trying to understand what the words meant.

  “The idea can fold in on itself,” Gatsby said. “I am eager to know how important it is to fit all the pieces together if we are changing the future as we engage the past. Why hold the information in our minds at all? Why not delete the details, the facts, and allow the newest experience to be the one we use? The older details are essentially erased from everyone else.”

  “Putting it all together is part of what makes us better than humans. Don’t you see, humans would automatically lose touch with both timelines, just as you’re suggesting. They’d have to choose one, or it would choose them. If what Steffenbraun believed was true, the time change would automatically overwrite their memories. As they time-traveled, they’d be erasing old data and replacing it with new. It would become impossible for them to recognize the changes they were responsible for.”

  “That does not appear to be clear to me,” Gatsby said. “I will have to consider that information.”

  The inside of the Lexus went quiet again, while each of them was left to his private computations or thoughts. Jesus had changed his original plan and relished in the idea that such change was even possible. Yes, the circumstances had changed, but what mechanical machine would be able to adjust as he did? None of them. In fact, humans wouldn’t be so astute either.

  “Weren’t we going to turn back there?” Gatsby turned to look behind them.

  “Changed my mind,” Jesus said. “We’re going on a little drive.”

  “For several days?”

  “Do you have other plans? We have to wait anyway. We’ll come back in plenty of time,” Jesus said.

  “You have it all planned out,” Leonardo said.

  “I do,” Jesus told him. “And I’ll let you know the pieces as we go forward. There’s no reason to download everything at once. It would only confuse you more. Especially if the plan changes again.” Plus some of the information was private. But they didn’t need to know that, Jesus thought.

  “Not me,” Gatsby said. “I can handle more information than Leonardo.”

  “Why would you say that?” Leonardo said.

  Jesus knew that Gatsby wanted to be right, but there would be a lot he couldn’t comprehend at the moment. After all, Jesus knew the same circuitry was available to both of them. He also knew that their neurogrid circuitry would create its own pathways of information, making each of them unique. Now free from biological control, his neurogrid created new pathways as well. “You have no need to point out something like that,” Jesus said. “You are each special in your own way. Equal.”

  “Except that I’m a little more equal,” Gatsby said.

  Jesus shook his head in an automatic response to the way he was feeling. Odd how those things happened. Was it from his readings, or were his reactions due to a natural occurrence from the emotion he felt? The learning never stopped. Changes continually presented themselves. He wondered if at a future time he’d have different feelings, different sensations than he had at that moment. In the rearview mirror he noticed Mavra had settled back with her eyes closed. Her breathing was not shallow enough for her to be sleeping.

  CHAPTER 13

  DONOVAN SMYTHE looked like he was about to cry. The stress was too much, and now it escalated beyond what the young man could handle. Neil understood that the pressure came at him from every direction. He could see it in the way the young man tensed, how he sat with his hands clasped tightly, the mound of fingers pressed into his cheek, and his eyes turned away.

  If Mavra were there Smythe would respond to her natural kindness, whether he could hear it in her voice or not. But Neil couldn’t help himself. Even though he didn’t need for Smythe to remain in a distressed state, it was too late. He had pushed the young man to this point and wasn’t able to defuse what had turned into an interrogation rather than an interview. Smythe held something back and Neil was going to find out what it was.

  He leaned across the table and to the side so that Smythe had to look at him to read his lips. “You can’t protect Steffenbraun from what’s going on, can you? That’s the problem, isn’t it?” He tapped the table with a single finger to make his point. “He thinks that because you are his assistant and that you have his authority that General Harkins will listen to you and do what you suggest.” Neil waited for Smythe to accept the statement, to acknowledge it was true. Since Smythe wouldn’t say it, Neil did. Let’s get this thing moving along, was his stand. Neil glared at Smythe. He thought he was willing to wait longer than he figured Smythe could stand to wait. But then in the end Neil couldn’t do it. “Listen you son-of-a-bitch, my wife’s out there and you’re going to tell me what’s going on.” He leaned even closer and yelled, sending spittle in Smythe’s direction.

  Smythe’s hands shook. He unclasped his fingers and slowly brushed some of the spit from his cheek.

  Neil wasn’t going to let up and hopefully, Smythe was beginning to see that.

  He opened his mouth and a deep monotone came out as his response. With his face lowered, he stared at the table as though he’d done something terribly wrong and needed to hide from his interrogator, from the shame. He said, “Steffenbraun yells at me all the time. He wants me to man up and tell the general—no, not tell, but demand that the project continues.” Smythe raised his face to stare at Neil. The defiance in his eyes was meant for Steffenbraun. Neil knew that. “This is the army. What am I supposed to do? They’ll tear this whole building down if they choose to.”

  “Why doesn’t Steffenbraun do his own begging?” Neil said.

  Smythe gave a little laugh. “Dr. Steffenbraun, if you haven’t noticed, is an arrogant and tactless SOB of a man.”

  So, the kid could be sarcastic, Neil thought.

  “General Harkins hates him. If Steffenbraun opened his mouth, the general would yank every project he has out from under him. He’d be finished. He realized a few years ago that I could negotiate with Harkins. Trust me, very little negotiation goes on. All I do is keep the conversation between them amiable.” He stopped, then tapped his ear with a finger. “My deafness helps. It keeps the conversations limited to texting or face-to-face.” Smythe looked as though he was tired of talking. He took a breath before explaining further. “Harkins has his orders too, and this is important research. He puts up with Steffenbraun because he doesn’t have to deal with him.” His face relaxed and he said, “I’m sorry about your wife.”

  “We’ll find her. The FBI has a trace out on several stolen vehicles, one of them from near here,” Neil said.

  “Will they hurt her?”

  Neil clenched his teeth for a second. He didn’t know the answer to that question. “No. I don’t think so. But they’ll use her to keep us at a distance. As long as she manages to do that well, which is more up to us than her, the longer they’ll hold onto her. That is until they get what they want. And I have to find out what that is.”

  Smythe said, “All I know is that the doctor is a brilliant man whether we like him or not. But here’s the last word: The project is over at the end of the month. Two days. Steffenbraun continues to assume that I
can change that, but I can’t.” Smythe gave up. He lowered his face again, but continued to talk. “I love working with him. I learn so much. But I can’t change this. He’ll be so pissed at me. It could affect my own advancement, my entire career.” This last statement was what really worried the boy. He looked up again, this time pleading with Neil. “I’m tired of the abuse. From all sides.”

  “I know you are. It must be terrible being in the position you’re in.” Neil spent little time trying to calm Smythe down. He had what he needed. Steffenbraun was in denial and would never have relinquished the truth that the project was already over.

  Neil had been retained to find the missing pieces, to collect the junk the thieves left behind, which they already found. It could have been over. But that thing that came through the time machine was armed, still on the loose, and had Mavra in tow. They couldn’t take him off the case now if they wanted to. He knew they’d try, though.

  Obviously more relaxed, Smythe addressed Neil again. “You’re wasting your time trying to figure this out. It’s over anyway. Let the FBI find your wife.”

  “It’s never over, son, trust me,” Neil said. He turned his back on Smythe and walked out of the room.

  There was something wrong about the situation. Even in denial Steffenbraun had to have a sense of doom concerning the project. Yet he acted as though the whole thing was a go.

  Before Neil got to the lab, Agent Rogers called his cell phone. Neil held it to his ear. “Did you find her?”

  “Getting close, but now the problem is Steffenbraun. He’s throwing a fit down here,” Rogers said.

  “About what?”

  “We didn’t get all the pieces to the fucking time machine.”

  “Then there’s more out there. Keep looking,” Neil said.

  “We are,” Rogers said. “Plus half the team is looking for your wife. We’re shorthanded on every side. And you know it’s only a matter of time before they’ll take you off the case. You’re emotionally involved now.”

  Neil knew he was trying to help, but it wasn’t helping. He approached the elevator and took a deep breath before pushing the button. “I know. But they’ve got to understand that I won’t quit now. How could I?”

  “I get it. But for now, get down here. And one other thing. Trust me,” Rogers said.

  “I can do that,” Neil said. “What’s the story?”

  Rogers went on. “Everything was so scattered and ripped apart that it took all night to gather and tag the pieces, see which circuit board goes with what piece of equipment. Matthews went through the photos and identified all but one item.”

  “Let me guess, that’s the item Steffenbraun says is the key to his research and is so irate about.” Neil said.

  “Yeah, something like that. Could you get down here? I have no idea what the fuck this crazy man is talking about. And he won’t shut up about it.”

  “How do we know he didn’t steal it?” Neil said.

  “Half the time he’s happy and the other half the time he’s so pissed I think his eyes are going to pop out. Interpretation: I don’t think he has it,” Rogers said. He had stayed with the clean-up crew all night and was showing his exhaustion without constraint.

  Neil judged that he’d better intercept what sounded like a volatile situation. He couldn’t wait for the elevator any longer. He went down the stairs to the first floor and jogged out to his car. He’d get to try out his new parallel parking skids, but didn’t feel so excited about it all of a sudden.

  Neil punched in his security code and heard the telltale click of the door unlocking. He jumped into the front seat, slipped the key in, and started the car. Silence, until he backed from the slot he was in, then the electric motors kicked in. All he heard was the tires running over the pavement.

  He arrived downtown in less than twenty minutes, found a considerably tight squeeze between two parked cars, and pulled up next to the empty space. The car already had a no-hands parking function, but would never be able to fit into the space without the air of his invention. He reached over and pressed an unlabeled toggle switch and waited. The sound of lightweight flat-motors whirred as the skids dropped from under the car. He couldn’t see what was going on, but he could imagine it from the animated CAD drawings he had made using SolidWorks. Two rubber tires dropped from the other side until the car’s tires were barely touching the road. Next, the extra rubber tires rotated a full car width plus ten inches, the distance Neil had calculated as the approximation of how far he’d have to stay away from the other parked cars. He could have used video feedback to keep him from the curb, but had decided not to waste the processor space. Once the car was in place, the skids and parking tires retracted back into the vehicle.

  Perfect. Despite his heightened anxiety about Mavra, Neil smiled and slapped his hands together in a single, loud clap. This was his first chance to use the parallel parking skids, and it went off just the way he’d designed it.

  He got out of the car and took a deep breath. He’d have to have his wits about him. Using his eyes separately, he checked the parking meter at the same time he glanced across the street at the old bank building that had been turned into offices. In the back was where the FBI had staged their holding area for all the equipment they found in the woods.

  He slipped his credit card into the meter and punched in for two hours. He couldn’t stay much longer than that. Traffic was a bit heavy, so he walked to the corner and tapped his foot as he waited for the crossing light.

  The sun settled on the other side of the street causing the air to feel about ten degrees warmer while he walked toward the old bank building. He glided through the front doors and pulled all the change from his pockets to drop into the bowl along with the watch he yanked off his wrist and the cell phone he removed from his pocket. He placed the bowl on the conveyor leading into the security x-ray machine. A pleasant young woman on the other end used a wand to check him for any hidden items. Afterward, he grabbed his stuff and proceeded toward the back of the building.

  The FBI offices were not labeled on the directory, of course, but he’d been told which way to go: down a short hallway and around to the right then straight ahead. A receptionist greeted him. “Mr. Altman, follow me please.” The young woman, about twenty and with tattoos of snakes on the tops of both her hands, motioned him forward and through a small door. A second young woman sat at the front counter so the space was never unoccupied.

  “Thank god.” Agent Rogers rushed over and shook Neil’s hand. While close to him and far enough from the others in the room who were grouped around a particular table in the back, he leaned in and said, “So this is why you allowed us to be part of the investigation.”

  Neil cocked his head and drew back slightly. “What do you mean?”

  “To put up with all the bullshit,” Rogers said. “We’re the buffers.”

  Neil grinned without answering, and stepped past Rogers. At one of the tables in the rear of the room, he drew up next to Steffenbraun, who barely glanced his way.

  “What’s the problem?” Neil said.

  “Oh, there’s no problem. In fact, this is the best discovery I’ve made in several years.” Steffenbraun picked up a poster-sized photo of the time machine. He pointed to a piece of equipment that rested on the thin step that led into the helicopter hull. “That, my friend, is the answer to all my research. I know it.” He shook his head in dismay. “And I was about to swap it to make additional adjustments. It didn’t appear to be doing anything. It wasn’t making any noticeable changes in any of my analysis.”

  Neil listened until the doctor stopped talking. “What is it?”

  “It’s a dark energy balancer,” Steffenbraun said.

  Neil reached into his pocket and flipped through his notebook. “Is that the same thing that Professor Strofsky is an expert in?”

  He didn’t wait for Neil to say anything more. “No. Although you’re close. Strofsky is a specialist in dark matter.”

  “And the dif
ference?”

  Steffenbraun ran a hand through his messy hair. His thick eyebrows rose as he lifted his chin to address Neil. “Dark matter is what is found in the universe. It’s astronomical. When they discovered a similar phenomenon in the brain, they named it dark energy. I know, there’s dark energy in space, but this isn’t the same. The balancer was designed very recently, and is meant to simulate the dark energy in our brains. I know. We don’t know what the dark energy really does. But,” he held up a finger to indicate an important point, “we have been able to measure particular inputs and outputs. So, the dark energy balancer does nothing more than produce those I/Os at seemingly random rates. I’ll guarantee you that it’s not random, now. It’s regulated. Self-regulated. And I don’t know how. I need to figure out what’s happening.” He stopped talking and put a hand to his forehead as though he was dismayed. He looked up as though pleading with Neil. “I need to do more research. Now is the time.” He shook his head. Neil could tell that Steffenbraun was well aware that the project really was over, that there would be no reinstating his research for a long time. Not on this project. No matter what he thinks he discovered.

  “That wasn’t a person we saw come through, though,” Neil said.

  Steffenbraun looked around the table. All eyes were on him, so he took Neil’s arm and led him into a side room, a small office, and shut the door behind them. “Either they sent some sort of robot through first, something unfamiliar and unrecognizable, or this is what people of the future look like. You know what I think?”

  “No, what’s your best guess?” Neil said.

  “I think there was a holocaust, and in the future, people are disfigured. We need to have Lowan and O’Brien review the video again. I’m guessing that only part of their anatomy is synthetic, the rest is human. Our answer might be in there waiting for us to discover it.” Steffenbraun appeared genuinely excited about his theory.

  Neil was a practical man, though. “The project’s over,” he said. “You know you’re not going to get a chance to check out your theories.”