Codename- Ubiquity

by Wendy Devore

  I’m unable to contain my irritation. “Who else would he be doing it for?”

  She apparently considers this question rhetorical. “And you’re here because you’re conflicted about his role with his father’s company?”

  “Well no,” I groan, dropping my head and closing my eyes. “I’m here because I’m his ticket out of Alternate Reality Land, and I—I just left him there.”

  She is silent for a long time. I begin to fidget in my chair.

  “What will happen if you don’t retrieve him?” she asks, her eyes deadly serious.

  “There is good chance he will die.”

  Her lips are pinched into a thin line. “Then you must retrieve him.”

  “He lied to me about who is father is!”

  Her voice is matter-of-fact. “It doesn’t matter who his father is.”

  “I don’t know who he is!” I insist.

  “You know exactly who he is. And you know exactly who you are. You must do the right thing. Stop running, Kate. Stop running and embrace what you know.”

  Chapter 25

  Kate

  September 30

  My entire body felt as heavy as a pile of granite boulders. My mouth tasted as if it had been lined with steel wool, but my head was blessedly free of both auras and jackhammers.

  I lifted my head and heard the scraping of a chair, and then a cool hand grasped my own.

  “You’re awake!”

  The welcome voice of my sister provided the motivation to finally wrench open my eyes—or to try. They seemed to be glued shut. I raised my free hand and rubbed the crust away.

  “Michelle?” My throat was so hoarse. I tried to smile, but my lips cracked painfully. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “Let me call Dr. Daniels,” she suggested, reaching for the call button.

  “No, wait.” I struggled to sit up, and Michelle instead reached for the controls to raise my hospital bed into the reclining position. She was wearing her black skirt, black top, and flats. She’d definitely come straight from work.

  “I hate to be a baby,” I croaked, “but could you bring me some water?”

  Michelle smiled, released my hand, and poured a small glass from a pitcher conveniently resting on the small table between the beds. She glanced furtively at Andrew’s unconscious form.

  The tepid water tasted amazing.

  “Sip it slowly,” Michelle suggested. “You haven’t eaten anything solid in a long time.”

  I nodded and handed the cup back to my sister. With another sideways glance at Andrew, she quickly moved around to the chair on the far side of my bed. “He’s creeping me out,” she complained. “He looks like he’s dead.”

  I could tell that she was holding back a thousand questions, but rather than speak, she slipped her hand back around mine and smiled.

  I shook my head and tried to think clearly. “What is the status of Hurricane Ophelia?”

  Michelle cocked her head to the side and looked at me like I was crazy.

  “You know, the superstorm of the century? Extremely unusual weather pattern? Bearing down on the New York coast? We watched the forecast together on the news.”

  Michelle laid a hand on my forehead, presumably to check for delirium.

  “Katie, are you sure you’re all right? There is no hurricane.”

  I fell back against the bed in relief. One crisis averted. I tried unsuccessfully to clear my throat, and Michelle refilled the glass of water.

  “So, Dr. Daniels called me this afternoon.” She tried to sound casual, but the concern was easy to detect. “To be honest, I’ve been worried sick about you but wasn’t expecting to hear anything until tomorrow, at the earliest. He explained that you had come out of it, but he hadn’t.” She nodded at Andrew. “The doctor wouldn’t explain what happened.”

  “That’s because he doesn’t know what happened,” I said, slowly sipping the water.

  “So—what happened?”

  “This is going to take a while,” I sighed. Then I told my sister everything.

  When I finished, Michelle stared hard at me.

  “My God, Kate—what are you going to do?”

  I frowned. “I’ve convinced myself I’m going to bring him back. Or, at least a better version of myself has convinced me.” I motioned to the table between the beds. “But I’ll need your help. Can you hand me that damn Bug?”

  Michelle grasped the device, gingerly dangling the thing by one of its spindly legs. She dropped it in my lap like it was a dead lizard.

  I carefully picked it up and turned it over in my hand. It appeared to be undamaged.

  “This stupid IV makes it hard for me to do anything. I’m going to need you to help me position this,” I said, holding the Bug as if it was an offering.

  “What, right now?” she asked incredulously.

  “Yes. It will have retained its programming, and it should activate as soon as it’s positioned on my hand.”

  “Shouldn’t I call Amir or Dr. Daniels or—someone?” my sister protested nervously.

  I shook my head. “If I wait, I’ll change my mind. Probably best to just go in there, find him, and end this irresponsible, ill-advised disaster as quickly as possible.”

  “Okay…” Michelle agreed doubtfully. She gritted her teeth as she positioned the Bug carefully on the back of my hand. When she released it, she shuddered as if the thing had given her a raging case of the heebie-jeebies.

  Then we waited.

  “I should be back soo—” I was interrupted by a familiar stab of searing pain.

  I knew immediately I’d made a big mistake. Nighttime had already fallen, there was no moon, and I was again in the middle of an undeveloped field, this time enveloped in darkness. There were sharp rocks, and there were spiny weeds, and they were all stabbing my bare bottom.

  “Shit!” I yelled. “Shit! Shit! Shit!”

  “Hello, Kathryn,” a familiar voice rang out from somewhere in the shadows. “Please don’t tell me that you sliced here wearing your hospital gown.”

  I struggled to stand up, feeling the sharp dig of small stones on my tender feet. I cursed the powerful wave of nausea that washed over as I dropped to my bare knees. And then I retched.

  “Forgot the anti-nausea too, I see,” Andrew called from somewhere in the darkness.

  “Would you please stop being such a complete and total ass?” I grimaced as another series of dry heaves racked my body.

  “I’m going to turn on a flashlight so I can find you.”

  I sat back on my heels and clutched the back of the hospital gown in a failed attempt at modesty. A brisk gust of wind rustled the dry foliage, and I shivered. A bright point of light appeared thirty feet away and bobbed closer.

  “You did slice in your gown,” he smirked as he swept the light from my chest to my face. I squinted in its bright beam. “Was Amir hammered? He should have realized—”

  “Amir wasn’t there. Dr. Daniels wasn’t there. Janine wasn’t there. Your father certainly wasn’t there.” I spat out the word with venom.

  For a moment, Andrew seemed taken aback. Then he focused the circle of light on the ground in front of me and began digging around in a large canvas bag. “I brought you some things,” he said. He held out his hand, and I reluctantly grasped it, steadying me as I rose from the ground. He passed me a pile of clothing.

  “Do you want light or…”

  “No. Thank you.” My words were clipped, and the field immediately went dark.

  I did my best to extract the gravel from my scraped-up knees before pulling on an A-line skirt and a warm, thick sweater. I flung the flimsy hospital gown to the ground.

  “I don’t suppose you brought any, uh, undergarments?” I was sure my face had flushed and was thankful for the cover of darkness.

  The beam of light reappeared, and he handed me the bag. The flashlight clicked off again, and by feel, I located panties, socks, and a pair of comfortable leather oxfords.

  “Are you dece
nt?” he asked from somewhere too near for my comfort.

  I finished tying the shoelaces. “Sure,” I retorted.

  The beam reappeared, focused on my shoes.

  “You came back,” he observed. “Thank you.”

  “The hurricane is no longer a thing,” I snapped. I marched to where Andrew stood and snatched the flashlight, turning it on him. The aloha shirt had been replaced by a long-sleeved button-down in dove-colored cotton paired with well-tailored trousers. But most surprising was the gray band perched on his head, its surface reflecting in purplish-teal iridescence.

  My eyes grew as wide as saucers. “Where did you get that thing?”

  His hand touched the device. “There’s something you need to know about CereLink.”

  “Did you steal it? Does it even work?” My curiosity immediately won out over my indignation.

  “I didn’t steal it. And it does work.”

  I stepped closer and turned the beam on the band. The surface shimmered in the intense light.

  “But how? Did you get the nanoprobes? Did it hurt? Where did you even get this device? I’ve only been gone for—what, maybe five hours? And now you’re some kind of cyborg?”

  His spoke with exasperation. “You’ve been gone for seven and a half hours, Kathryn. I’m not a cyborg. And the person who set up my CereLink was me,” he explained, plucking the flashlight from my grasp. “In fact, the only reason the device functions at all is because this unit was already paired to the brain patterns of the local version of me—the device normally requires a week of training before it is operational.”

  “Right. You met yourself. Of course,” I reasoned. “I absolutely believe that the version of you that lives here would never willingly walk around wearing aloha shirts. He has a good tailor. He must also have some powerful connections.”

  “The version of me that lives here doesn’t need powerful connections to provide nanoprobes or a CereLink, Kathryn. The version of me that lives here heads the division of the company that makes CereLink.”

  I couldn’t keep the accusation from my voice. “And who runs that company?” I asked.

  “The company is run by my father.”

  His jaw muscles were tense. Did he expect me to lose it again? I took a deep, calming breath.

  “Andric Breckinridge,” I grunted. “I can go halfway across the multiverse, but I can’t escape the influence of that heinous man.”

  “You understand what this means, right? If I can replicate any of this technology in our slice, it means we haven’t technically stolen anything.”

  The irony was, in this case, actually cosmic. I took a moment to consider, and my emotions, so battered from the events of the day, seemed to drain away. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. Listened to the sounds of the crickets. Swatted at a moth drawn to the beam of the flashlight. I gazed up at the heavens and marveled at the countless points of light twinkling in the vast inky blackness of the night sky.

  “So, is it amazing?” I finally asked.

  “More than you could ever imagine.”

  I knew at that instant that I wanted this technology just as much as he did. I reached up, and the tips of my fingers brushed the cool metallic surface of the band.

  “I wish there was time to train one for you,” he said quietly, “but it’s too risky to stay here any longer. Our environmental crisis is resolved, and I’m approaching the end of the sixty-hour window. We must return immediately.”

  I dropped my hand, still gazing at the device. I wished more than anything to try it on.

  “Maybe we can find me in this slice. I’m sure she’d let me borrow her CereLink. We could find her tonight, then head home.”

  “I’m sorry, Kate,” he replied sadly. “I looked for you the moment I put this thing on. You don’t exist in this slice. There is no record at all of you, your sister, even your parents.”

  My chest tightened. Although it was bound to happen sooner or later, news of my family’s nonexistence hit me harder than I expected. The invisible band squeezing my heart made me feel physically faint. Or possibly it was my earlier vomit-fest.

  In the darkness, Andrew slid his arm around my waist.

  “I don’t want to stay a minute longer in a world without a Kathryn Rathman,” he murmured into my ear. Words that should have made me swoon instead dredged up a morass of confusion. I stepped back and quite literally shone the interrogation light directly on his face.

  “What is this thing we’re doing? Is it all just an experiment to you? Or maybe it’s some kind of testosterone-fueled game? Perhaps you just get a kick out of toying with my emotions.”

  Andrew fixed his dazzling blue eyes on me and considered his answer carefully.

  “I should have recruited you differently. I should have told you about my father.”

  I should have been angry, but the conversation in Bel Air came rushing back to me. “How did you even get into this? The Bug is your baby—why is Andric Breckinridge running the show?”

  “Amir and I worked tirelessly on the prototype. And we talked to everybody—literally every venture capitalist and angel investor in the Valley. But let’s face it. Slicing is an insane proposition. No one would wait to hear the end of our pitch, let alone invest. In the end, Andric agreed to fund this research. And now we’re all reaping the consequences.”

  I took a deep breath and returned his stare. “I can’t be a part of this if I don’t know the truth.”

  “I should have been honest with you about the company, my role there, and about the path down which the Ubiquity project has spiraled. But I promise you, right here, right now, no more secrets, and no more lies.”

  “No more stabbing,” I added.

  “No more stabbing,” he solemnly agreed, a wry smile playing about his lips.

  “But how can I really trust you when I barely know you?” I protested.

  He stepped closer again, reached over, and doused the flashlight. When he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close, I didn’t resist. I rested my head against his shoulder. Unexpected waves of warmth pulsed through my body, and my skin tingled beneath my sweater.

  His voice was tender. “I think you already know what’s in my heart. Can’t you tell?”

  The question felt dangerous, and I was tempted to redirect, to diffuse the situation with some pithy, snarky comment. But then I remembered the growing number of instances in which the universe had already thrown us together, and I reconsidered. Instead I decided to supply an equally dangerous answer.

  “Kissing you is pure, unadulterated bliss,” I confessed. “It’s consuming my thoughts. You’re consuming my thoughts. Because of my condition, I’ve led a somewhat…sheltered life. For all I know, what I feel is nothing more than simple animal lust. So I’ll ask you again. What is this thing we’re doing?”

  “It’s not that complicated, Kathryn,” he replied, and I could hear it again in the dark, even though I couldn’t see it—that smile, tugging at the corners of his eyes. “The thing we’re doing is falling in love.”

  Chapter 26

  Kate

  October 31

  Amir bumbled into the team’s daily morning stand-up meeting wearing a giant inflatable T. rex costume.

  His green-and-gray dinosaur head towered over the assemblage. Every other person in the room was clad in street clothes, unless you counted the spattering of white lab coats. A muffled voice rose over the hum of the small portable pump that filled the costume with air.

  “You people are harsh!” Amir grumbled. “C’mon, it’s Halloween! Where’s the love?”

  The sixty-three people crowded tightly into what was previously the Project Ubiquity lab stared at Amir blankly. Only the incredible influence and vast coffers of Andric Breckinridge could have persuaded such a large group of distinguished professionals to assemble so rapidly. Project Satori’s technical requirements had quickly swelled the ranks of Albaion, and most of the newcomers didn’t appreciate Amir’s sense of humor. />
  “Okay, then, we’ll start with the dinosaur in the room. Amir, what’s the status of the quantum algorithms?” Andrew asked with a barely concealed grin.

  Amir detached his dinosaur head, and his costume deflated. “My team has verified the secure uplink to the Q-Path 5000-AQ quantum computer. We’re ready to start testing your quantum algorithms. Preliminary results should start coming back this afternoon. I really wish we could get one of those babies in-house, though.”

  “Sorry, but I wasn’t able to convince Finance to approve that fifteen million dollar requisition you sent me,” Andrew replied wryly. “How about biomaterials?”

  Janine spoke up. “We have a video conference call today with our experts at Ohio State University and the US Department of Energy’s Brookhaven National Laboratory to finalize the build protocol for the nanoprobes required for Satori. Dr. Ichpujani, our new resident nanotechnologist, suggested the nanoparticles will have the best uptake over the blood-brain barrier if coated with polysorbate-80. The nanoprobes have been tested in mouse models for safety, and we’ve noted no negative effects.”

  “Great,” he said, nodding. “And as for hardware, here’s an update on the detection prototype. My team has completed the integration of the combination atomic magnetometers and the advanced photoacoustic detection equipment. Everything has been moved to the fMRI suite to take advantage of its superior shielding. Measurements indicate the device should be safe for human use, and I’ll test that theory later today.”

  Andrew looked around the room at the collection of luminary technologists, computational neuroscientists, machine learning experts, and bio-nano-mechanics authorities assembled before him. He paused to make eye contact with each member of the group before he spoke.

  “I know the pace of this project is brutal, but you’ve all worked unbelievably hard since the moment you arrived. Together we’ve come to the precipice of revolutionary technology in record time. I am one hundred percent certain that your efforts here are literally going to change the world. Thank you for trusting me enough to make this journey. Don’t lose faith—with your help, I’m confident that success is just over the horizon. Together we’ll drive Project Satori to completion. Thank you all. Now let’s go make something insanely great!”