Amazing Stories 88th Anniversary Issue

by Unknown

  Josephine stared at me. I noticed the same glint of fear in her eyes that my third wife would always get when she told me she had maxed out our credit line. I looked around the room. All eyes were on me. Scrutinizing me.

  The crew cut slapped the table again, “I need you to tell me that you can revolutionize the industry.”

  I didn’t flinch as I said, “I can do it.” As soon as the words reached escape velocity, I began to scour my mind for the answer to the next question.

  “How?” someone asked.

  I was a little numb. I had no idea who asked the question. I began to speak before the words were even fully formed in my conscience. “We’re going to take it to the next level. So far all anyone has been able to do is achieve three-dimensional imagery of the most realistic level and flawless audio. Already you see that we have crossed that threshold.” I gasped for breath as I plunged on. “We propose to take it beyond that point.” I was stalling, but then…. “Gentlemen and ladies, we are going to feed all of your senses. We will provide the most realistic visual experience ever demonstrated and audio quality never before equaled, while adding the previously unachieved senses of touch, feel, and smell.”

  The statement floated around the silent room for a few minutes, before crew cut slapped the table again. “Great. How are you going to do it?”

  By then, the genesis of the idea had already taken root. “Each of you and every other law-abiding citizen in the civilized world has a NanoTag. The NanoTag is mainly utilized for data transmission and storage, but it does have significant interactivity with the human brain. That is each NanoTag as a side effect of its function can send and receive signals to the brain.” I hoped I knew what I was talking about. “Members of the board, we will be using the NanoTag to bring revolutionary sensory input to our system. There is nothing like it in the world.”

  Everyone immediately started talking. A few minutes later I was being asked to leave so Josephine could speak with the board in private. I was glad to be out of there. I had no concrete method for achieving what I had promised, but I believed that it was entirely possible. A colleague of mine at Star Industries had been developing a method whereby the NanoTag could provide the visually impaired with sight and the hearing impaired with sound. Perhaps I could piggyback on his research to incorporate the other senses. If it didn’t work, at least I probably bought myself a few more paychecks. The first obstacle would be getting my hands on his research. I figured IT could help me locate him.

  When Josephine finally emerged, she came to my office with a genuine smile. For a microsecond the cute dimple in her right cheek reminded me of the way my first wife, Maria, used to smile at me. Only for a microsecond. No one was the equal of my Maria. Josephine started to close the door, but then pushed it back open before saying, “We got an extension.”

  “How long?” was all I could think to say.

  She spoke distinctly so everyone nearby would be sure to hear. “They gave us six months. They expect something revolutionary in six months or they will sell everything off.” She lowered her voice and stepped closer to my desk. “Can you do it?”

  I sat back in the gel chair and rubbed my temples. After a few minutes I nearly forgot she was there. At last I looked at her and said, “I hope so.”

  “That’s it? I hope so?” She pulled the door shut behind her. “You’re not getting paid to hope. You’re getting paid to perform. They were impressed with what you had so far, but I think they are even more impressed by what you promised. What do you need to bring it off?”

  Without hesitation I said, “Dr. Peter Vorach.”

  “What?”

  “No, who,” I replied. “Dr. Peter Vorach worked with me at Star Industries. He was developing the technology we need.”

  She held up her hand. “Stop. Dr. Vorach doesn’t work here. We are not going to hire Dr. Vorach or anyone else for that matter. We hired you. You’re the miracle worker. Get to work.”

  “But we need his expertise.”

  “We hired you to be our expert. Are you telling me we hired the wrong person?”

  “Not at all. I’m telling you that we need Dr. Vorach.”

  She just glared at me.

  “Just for consulting. That’s all,” I suggested.

  “No chance, unless he works for free.”

  “Little chance of that,” I conceded. My mind started to sprint. All I really needed was access to his work. I didn’t really need him at all. It would be quicker to implement with his help, but if I could get my hands on his spec sheets and the schematics and the source code, I could adapt them to our project. I must have zoned out, because by the time I had snapped to, Josephine was already gone.

  It took the IT department thirty minutes to locate the contact information for Dr. Peter Vorach. Peter had accepted a job with Wuhan University, but when I phoned him, a woman who spoke Chinese with a thick French accent told me he was on holiday. I asked when he would be back, and she said a very long holiday.

  An obstacle to be sure, but I was not willing to surrender. I knew Peter fairly well and reasoned that he couldn’t totally remove himself from his work. He would have remote access. It took twenty-two hours for IT to present me with a login screen for Peter’s home network. They told me the encryption was beyond anything they could get through, so I immediately started work on an algorithm to evolve neural network modules capable of cracking Peter’s security.

  You’re going to tell me decryption is illegal? I know it’s illegal, but only if you don’t have permission from the target. Well no…in fact we did not have permission. If we were to contact him, I’m certain that Dr. Vorach would not press charges in this matter. I’ll be glad to provide his contact information when I’m finished. Where was I?

  Yes, yes, module evolution. It took less time than I forecasted to create the decryption algorithms. With more than three million systems at my disposal, I was able to achieve a level of parallelism that crunched through the task in a single week. We debugged the modules on our own security system before we approached Peter’s network.

  My display told me it took 343 microseconds to crack his security. Another four hundred milliseconds later, we had busted the root directory and had full access to his network. His LAN was quite extensive. Everything in his facility that ran on electricity seemed to be connected to his network: lights, climate control, multimedia, kitchen appliances, surveillance, alarm systems, maintenance robots, cleaning robots, washer, dryer, clocks, everything.

  I powered through his system attempting to dig out the desired data and anything related to his research. After cracking three more nuisance passwords, I found everything I could hope for: schematics, source code, white papers, data sheets. Uploading all of his research took little effort. Make no mistake this is where I obtained knowledge of the NanoTag instruction set and protocol. I understand that it is unlawful to possess that information without a license, but you will find that Dr. Peter Vorach has all the licensing required. He broke no laws in this regard. No, I did not and do not currently have a license. I suppose I will have to plead guilty to that charge.

  May I continue? Thank you. It took nearly two months for me to decipher Peter’s work. I still didn’t understand everything, but I felt comfortable with the fundamentals. The NanoTag represents one of the most technologically advanced systems in the world. The government implants a cell-sized object in your cerebral cortex shortly after birth that operates on what I’ll call ambient electrical current from your brain. The device is capable of sending and receiving signals from the neurons in your brain and transmitting those through radio frequency to an external receiver.

  The device provides many uses. Storage of personal information remains one of the foremost. The original design allowed the government a means to track all people in the world via satellite. This provided a great aid in identifying the location of terrorists, soldiers on the battlefield, as well as missing persons, primarily missing children. As I do not have a NanoTag,
I cannot attest to its great usefulness. I do know that the population at large has grown quite dependent on storing medical, legal, and financial information in the NanoTag as well as a myriad of other uses.

  Relax, I’m getting to the point. Dr. Vorach had found a method where he could send signals through the neurons attached to the NanoTag in such a way as to manipulate the perceptions of the subject. He fitted some test subjects with cell-sized image sensors just beneath the eye. These sensors then used a radio transmitter to transfer the image data to the brain via the NanoTag. According to some documentation that I briefly reviewed, vision impairment normally resulted from the inability of the eyes to properly input visual data to the brain. The brain was still able to process the data, it just didn’t receive input. In this sense, he created artificial eyes that routed the sensory data to the brain. The brain took care of the rest.

  Dr. Vorach had begun similar work in the area of audio impairment. Since numerous research institutes had long ago finished mapping the human brain and all its functions, I found it easy to obtain the data I required to locate the portions of the brain related to the senses of touch, smell, and taste. Smell and taste proved relatively trivial to implement. The sense of touch provided the biggest challenge. Consider the sheer volume of tactile input received by your brain, and you can get a grasp of what we were up against.

  Using Dr. Vorach’s work as a blueprint, it took me another month to create the fitness and use algorithms required for evolution. After that three million systems around the world began evolving our neural network. It took a few hours before the first completed modules started arriving at the Geno LAN. Our fitness algorithm constantly sampled them and found no discrepancies. Morale within our team reached an all-time high as we started making plans for our first test.

  Word leaked out that I would select a pair of test subjects from within our team. Every morning after that a flock of eager techies greeted me at my office door. I quickly put an end to the hysteria by randomly selecting Tom and Ann for the initial test. At the time I remember feeling a heavy swell of envy. It might have been the only time in my life I regretted not having a NanoTag.

  My anxiety grew the closer we came to the initial test. Never before had my work required me to use a person as a test subject; I just wanted to feel secure that no one would get hurt. For three weeks since the first module arrived, I labored over an alternate test platform. During that time I created a series of dedicated evolutions, hoping they might arrive at a solution. I did manage to conduct two successful simulations, but they in no way told me how the system would interact with the NanoTag or the human brain.

  The day of the test arrived when Jon walked into my office and sat down. “I think you might want to take a look at something,” he said with his VR goggles on top of his head. He didn’t wait for my response, but instead brought a database up on my display.

  I looked at the jumble of numbers. My mind was racing over the upcoming test, and I couldn’t make any sense of them. “What’s this?” I asked.

  A flick of his left gauntlet highlighted the number 8,342,693.

  Again I asked, “What’s this?”

  “A problem,” said Jon.

  “A problem?” I looked at the number again. Next to it a label read ‘Total number of reporting systems.’ Instantly I knew what he meant.

  When each module came into our LAN, the system logged the identification number of the module’s originator. As part of our statistical analysis, we kept track of what percentage of our beta testing group produced results. This enabled us to determine which platforms provided the greatest yield as well as allowing us to evaluate numerous other statistical trends. Our beta group consisted of three million subjects, so by definition the total number of reporting systems could never exceed that value. Yet nearly three times as many systems had produced yields.

  “Are these numbers correct?” I asked.

  Jon nodded his head slowly. “I double checked the total. It matches.”

  “Have we added to the beta group?”

  The corner of Jon’s mouth turned up before he said, “Loaded question. I investigated the systems beyond the initial beta group to find out if someone had added them. To my understanding, there are no additional members of the beta. I don’t know what happened, Doc. I do know that our evolution package runs in the background of every one of those systems.”

  “How’d it get there?” I asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  I started feeling those tiny robots stabbing the lining of my stomach again. Somehow our software had leaked beyond our target group and in a sense beyond our control. Scenarios started playing through my mind. The idea that someone within the development team might have distributed it seemed pleasant compared to the notion that it might have been stolen. Anything more significant seemed lunacy. A few hours before the initial subject test, I wrestled with the idea of pulling the plug.

  As I tried to make a focused decision, Dr. Josephine Branner walked into my office. Jon instantly popped up like a soldier standing at attention, but Josephine never even glanced at him. Unobtrusively, Jon slid out the door and disappeared amidst the cubicles.

  “When are you going to start the test?” she demanded, sounding much like my second wife nagging me to fix the kitchen sink.

  “It’s scheduled in four hours,” I replied.

  “Why don’t we move it up.”

  I lurched forward, hitting my knee on the desk. Josephine never flinched. “We need the time to finish preparations,” I lied.

  “Get it ready in an hour.”

  “An hour?” Recklessly I said, “I was thinking about pulling the plug.”

  She shut the door to my office. “I have two board members in the conference room right now, waiting to hear the results of the test. There is no way you are going to pull the plug.”

  “We might have a problem,” I said.

  “Solve it,” she said.

  I shook my head. “It can’t be resolved in an hour.”

  She folded her arms and sighed heavily as if restraining herself from something more dramatic. “What are the risks?”

  “I’m not sure,” I admitted.

  “Are the test subjects in danger?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Could it set the project back?”

  “Probably not.”

  “Is everything legal?” she asked.

  I didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

  She opened the door, pausing to say, “One hour,” before she left.

  I know, I know, we still didn’t have a license to work with the NanoTag, but Josephine was blissfully unaware of that oversight. She had presented me with the perfect out, and I turned it down. Reckless? No, I wouldn’t say I was reckless, just eager. I could sense that I was standing at the threshold of something great. My life’s work centered on the creation of an evolving neural network, and there before my eyes I could see it happening. Unfortunately, the looming deadlines focused my attention on the application rather than the tool and its associated hazards. Blindly I rushed forward.

  Despite my apprehension, the test went flawlessly. Tom and Ann experienced all five senses amidst perfectly simulated green hills. Since Dr. Vorach had never tested his sight project on subjects with working eyes, we didn’t know how the artificial input would coexist with the subjects’ natural senses. We discovered that the artificial input overwrote nature, which means as long as the test program ran, Tom and Ann could not sense the real world. Our game became their reality.

  The board members left satisfied with our report. Once the back slapping finished, we resumed our headlong development for the upcoming demo, while we carefully monitored the spread of our development software. The number of systems reporting continued to grow, reaching nearly twelve million. Jon determined our software had been distributed via a computer virus, although the origin of the Geno Virus remained under investigation.

  I decided to create a bloodhound that could
sniff out the origins of the virus. If we could locate the source, we might be able to shut it down. Working on the demo remained my priority, but I managed to hastily design a series of fitness algorithms that would enable the network to evolve the bloodhound, nicknamed Sherlock Holmes. The evolution of the bloodhound took longer than it might have because I found it prudent to use only secure computers within the Geno LAN. With only three months before our deadline, I launched Sherlock into the network. It didn’t help.

  The Geno Virus continued to spread, and we had no idea where it had originated. Nearly eighteen million systems and approximately thirty-six RF communication satellites were infected. Government satellites? Yes, they were government satellites—the kind used to track NanoTags. Still, Jon insisted the virus was not malicious. As best as we could determine, none of the virus hosts knew they were infected nor did they experience any reduction in performance. Increased module evolution and the ability to broadcast across a wide coverage appeared to be the only results. It didn’t matter; the spread had to stop. I decided to alert everyone infected and quarantine our LAN.

  Could I get a cup of java? I’m starting to feel a bit shaky. Thank you. It will help clear my thoughts. As I was saying, once Jon left my office, things began to unfold rapidly. But that’s the nature of accidents; one minute you’re speeding along absorbed in your routine, and the next minute you’re staring in disbelief at what just happened.

  I remember making the long walk towards Josephine’s office to notify her about the virus. On my way, I heard panicked shouts coming from the test lab. After I sprinted through the doors, I saw Tom and Ann convulsing on the floor. Paramedics arrived in record time and immediately went to work trying to end their seizures. Nothing helped, and within the hour, both were pronounced dead.

  The room began to spin before I blacked out. When I came to, Tom and Ann had already been bagged and carted away. A paramedic continued to wave smelling salts under my nose. I pushed him away, wobbled to my feet, and staggered towards my office. Along the entire trek, the paramedic insisted I sit down, while Josephine screamed in a sharp pitch reminiscent of my third wife after I told her I wouldn’t agree to a divorce. I ignored both of them.