by Vern Buzarde
If this is a dream, please let me stay a little while longer.
“Anton, why are you telling me all this? Why am I here? I don’t understand.”
“Tess, I want to challenge you. Our quantum computer will be completed in the next few weeks. But our current efforts in developing its software, the algorithms required have… Well, let’s just say that aspect of the project has been disappointing. I want you to develop the code for this next level of super intelligence. Design its neural blueprint. Put together a team with whomever you choose. I don’t care about the cost. I will quadruple your NASA salary. My only requirement is a three-year delivery timeframe. That part is critical to me. Of course, if you can do it faster, so much the better. But at the end of the three years, the machine must be fully functional. All its processing power must be accessible, controllable.”
Her face was flushed. The martini and the enormity of the words she was hearing were manifesting physically. “Again, why me? Surely there are more qualified—”
“I see something in you. Something you may not even be aware of. Your Ted Talk, as well as the papers you published in IEEE Transactions on Pattern Analysis and Machine Intelligence demonstrated to me a level of insight that can’t be taught. You displayed a natural aptitude that has more in common with a jazz artist than a computer scientist. That is exactly the type of unique talent required for this project. This code must be as much abstract art as it is technological genius. You have proven your genius writing software for a solo voice. Now, you will be composing a symphony. Tess Carrillo’s symphony.” He stared into her eyes. She felt as though he could see through her. But it was okay. Almost calming.
“And since we’re being frank, I know this is an emotionally traumatic time for you, that you’re basically a workaholic and need a new venue. I know you will completely immerse yourself in this project. That’s the degree of passion this challenge requires. Think about it, Tess. You will have total autonomy and get full credit as the designer of the next-generation machine mind. If we—you—succeed, well, you’ll go down in history.”
Tess was afraid to drink any more of the martini. “Where would this all take place?”
“My complex in the San Juan mountains of Colorado. We call it Kalyana. It’s a Buddhist term for spiritual friend. You will have all of my resources at your disposal there. Also, the fresh air and beautiful scenery can be quite addicting.”
“Can I have some time to think it through? This is all happening so fast.”
“Of course. You have until the end of dinner to decide. The offer will either resonate or not. Waiting days or weeks for a decision will only waste time, which is the most valuable commodity I have.”
“When would I start?”
“Tomorrow. The clock on my three-year timeline started ticking the minute we met. My jet will fly you to the facility, and I’ll arrange for your belongings in Houston to be packed up and shipped to you by no later than the end of the week. Now, how about some food?”
Tess downed the rest of her martini, contemplating the tornado of information and emotions spinning inside her head. For the first time since Ryan’s death, she felt a tiny glowing ember of relief. The realization she was about to have unlimited resources to build the brain of a machine more powerful than anything that had ever existed could only help identify the person, or group, who destroyed her life. The possibility she could leverage such power in her quest felt intoxicating.
“Anton, does the project have a name? What do you call the computer?”
“We call it Prajna.”
7
Seventeen hours later, Tess landed at the Montrose, Colorado airport in one of Satoshi’s private jets, where she was met by a black SUV. From there it was a two-hour trip to a massive complex locked behind security that seemed more suited to a top-secret government facility. There was a series of manned gates with guard shacks, all of which required both credentials and palm scans of the driver.
Once inside, the layout was less like a fortress and more like an elegant ski resort. She was met by the facility administrator, Martha Kendrick, who said, “Welcome to Kalyana.” Martha led Tess up a series of stone steps and showed her the bungalow she would be calling home.
The bungalow looked like Swiss chalet from a movie or postcard. Some twelve hundred square feet, it was contemporary but warm, built with natural wood, decorated with high-end furniture and finishes, and a river-rock fireplace. Seamless, wall-sized windows offered an expansive view of the mountains and the valley below. A canopy of evergreens blanketed in pure-white snow stretched for miles. Clear light flooded the room, even though the sky was full of clouds. A storm was forming. There was an elegant framed pencil drawing on the wall in the bedroom of a half-naked Asian woman, her back toward the artist, holding a sheet against her otherwise bare skin. In the bottom-right corner was the initial S.
“Anything you need, just send a request to the email address.” She pointed to a plain white magnetic card hanging on the stainless steel refrigerator. “We usually deliver twice a week, but if you have a special request, just let us know. The fridge is fully stocked. As is the bar. There’s also great food at the Hive, available twenty-four hours a day. They serve everything from filet mignon to pizza, as well as a wide variety of vegetarian dishes.”
“The Hive?”
“That’s what we call the main facility. Housekeeping comes every three days, but you can adjust that to whatever works best. Do you want to take a break before I take you on the rest of the tour?”
“No, no thank you. Please, let’s continue. I’m a bit overwhelmed. For some reason, it’s different from what I had expected.” Tess was anxious to see more, to take it all in, fascinated by the speed with which her whole life had changed in less than twenty-four hours. The distraction of all the new things she was seeing gave her a degree of emotional relief.
They left the bungalow and walked past several others, as well as clusters of condominiums wrapped by gleaming sidewalks. Blue electric shuttles ran silently on the pristine streets, mostly empty. The whole complex sparkled. The air was cold and crisp. Tess felt invigorated. They entered a plain concrete structure and walked down several steps to a bank of seven elevators. Martha inserted an electronic key and one slid open. They went in, and Martha pushed “L.”
After several seconds, Tess asked, “Just how deep is the facility?”
“One hundred fifty feet. It was designed to be impervious to any outside events.”
“Events?”
“You know, bombs, attacks…even the aftermath of a nuclear explosion. In the event of a zombie apocalypse, we’ll be fine.” Tess waited for Martha to crack a smile, which never came.
When the door opened, Tess’s eyes widened. She wasn’t prepared for the enormity of what she saw, expecting some gloomy underground bunker. The central lobby was cavernous, and she estimated the ceiling to be at least sixty feet high. There was a security desk in the middle and four separate steel doors, two each on opposite sides of the walls perpendicular to the elevator, doors she assumed led to the facilities of the different ongoing projects. The pale marble floor reflected a slight hint of pink, like a desert sunset.
The wall facing the elevator flowed with crystal-clear water, something that looked so natural Tess wondered if the room was built around it. Although one hundred fifty feet below the surface, natural-looking light emanated from the walls and ceiling as if through giant windows on a sunny day. All of it felt otherworldly, like some real-life version of Shangri-la. They were met by a handsome man in a tailored suit, someone Tess recognized.
“Tess Carrillo, meet Garrett Oakley. Garrett is our chief of security and general ringmaster. He keeps the facility’s wheels turning. You’ll be seeing quite a bit of him.”
“We’ve met, sort of,” Garrett said, offering his hand.
Tess smiled. “Yes, in Washington. That wasn’t even
two days ago, but it seems like a week.”
Garrett’s eyes lingered a little too long. Tess knew that look. She’d seen it many times. The fact that she didn’t mind unsettled her a bit.
But I’m with someone. He just happens to be dead.
“Well,” Garrett said, “shall we get started? Ready to see your new station of toil? Your eighth circle of hell?”
Martha frowned. “Garrett has a unique sense of humor.”
Tess smiled. “Absolutely.”
Martha offered her card. “I’ll leave you in Garrett’s capable hands now. Call my extension if you need anything. Cell service works perfectly, even down here, so you shouldn’t have any trouble with communications.”
Garrett led Tess to a door labeled Q-4, swiped an electronic key card, and put his palm on the scanner. The door slid open, and they walked through. An alarm sounded, which he quickly disabled. “The door will remain open for five seconds, at which time it closes. Each person entering must scan their credentials individually, or”—he pointed at the flashing red light—“if two or more people attempt to enter on one scan, the alarm goes off.”
“Got it. But just so I know, if someone stops, will the door shut while they’re still standing in the entrance?”
“I’m afraid that would be a little messy.”
They walked down a well-lit hall, past multiple doors. Garrett swiped his card at a door, and it popped open. “These are individual spaces for you and your team. The facilities were designed for the anticipated numerous occasions where you and the others might need to get away. Nap or even stay the night if you’re in the middle of something critical. You’ll probably get quite familiar with these.” They walked inside a small room with a single bed, a bathroom with a shower, and a small television hanging on the wall. “There are twenty-nine units here. I assume that will be enough to accommodate your team?”
Tess nodded, and they proceeded down the hall, past a good-sized recreation room with a large television hanging behind a pool table. Against the wall was a large double-door refrigerator, a sink, two industrial coffeemakers, and two microwaves.
“Do you play pool, Dr. Carrillo?” Garrett asked.
“I do. Or I did.” Memories of Ryan watching her run the table at their favorite watering hole, Lana’s, flashed. “Pool is mathematics. Geometry.”
“Well, maybe sometime we can play. Once you’re all settled in.”
Garrett pointed to a mounted camera. “All the common areas are monitored continuously. However, each module is monitored only with the project manager’s approval. Normally, the cameras are always on, only deactivated during critical stages…times when a greater degree of secrecy is required. Isolating the monitoring system from hackers has proved challenging, and sometimes there’ve been thefts of proprietary information. As an extra layer of security, we’ve given each manager discretion as to when they’re on or off.”
Farther down the hall, they entered another locked door, which led to the control room, consisting of twelve workstations in a semicircle, facing a glass partition, overlooking a larger room below. The layout was similar to a small lecture facility or intimate theatre. Garrett tapped some buttons on a keyboard, and the lights glowed below. He turned to Tess and said, “If there’s anything you’d like to change, just let me know. We can customize the layout, modify anything you’d like.”
“I think it’s perfect. In fact, all of this is more than I could have ever imagined. But where is Prajna?”
“In the staging area. They’re running through the last of the Phase One acceptance testing. Once ready, the individual modules will be brought here and final assembly will commence. Should start to see it come together in seven to ten days.”
“May I see it? Meet the hardware group?”
Garrett smiled, looking as if he wanted to tell her something, but he hesitated. “Let’s go get you set up with security first. Before I introduce you to Byron and his team, it may be best if I give you some idea of what to expect. Byron can be, um, challenging.”
“Byron?”
“Byron Lethcoe. You may have heard of him. He’s known to be, well, difficult to work with.”
Tess knew him by reputation, and hearing his name was disappointing. He was high profile and controversial. Someone who surrounded himself with drama everywhere he’d been but somehow always landed on his feet.
“Challenging?” Tess asked.
“As in, may be somewhat threatened by you. May not play nicely. As with most of the project managers, he’s territorial. I’m just telling you this so you’re prepared.”
Tess grinned. “Well, then, I’m intrigued.”
***
The next day at eight a.m., Tess followed Garrett through the door to the staging area to meet the hardware team and the infamous Byron Lethcoe. Along with his reputation for volatility, there were persistent rumors—allegations of abuse by both males and females. Reputation aside, she was aware he wouldn’t have been selected by Satoshi unless he was the best.
When they reached the control room door, Garrett turned to face Tess. “Remember, Byron is an equal opportunity offender. Don’t take any of it personally.” With that, he swiped another electronic key, and they entered.
Tess’s eyes were immediately drawn to the staging area below. She stared through the glass, studying the stainless steel and brass cylinder, suspended by rails which allowed it to rotate vertically and horizontally. It was approximately eight feet high with a diameter of three feet. The cylinder moved slowly, apparently part of testing being performed by the six engineers. Byron didn’t appear to be in the room.
“Dr. Carrillo,” Garrett said, “meet Prajna.”
“It’s beautiful. Stunning, really. I thought it would look more—”
The lock on the door clicked, and an unfamiliar voice boomed, “Thought it would look more like one of those ridiculous things at NASA? Those machines are an embarrassment.”
“Tess Carrillo,” Garrett said, “meet Byron Lethcoe.”
Tess held out her hand, but Byron ignored her, moving past them and barking orders at one of the engineers. Garrett gave her a sideways glance and a barely perceptible wink.
“I’d really like to discuss with you the basis of design,” Tess said. “There are some specific areas I’ll need to familiarize myself with. Of course, at your convenience, whenever your schedule allows.”
Byron still refused to acknowledge her for several seconds, then said, “Yeah, that won’t be possible. I am extremely busy and have no time to educate someone in the basics of quantum computer design. In addition, you will not be allowed in here unless your presence is specifically requested…by me. Are we clear?”
Garrett glanced at Tess. Her face was calm, but her eyes glowed like hot molasses. She raised her iPad and retrieved an organization chart. Byron’s back was toward her, so she reached around him and positioned the iPad in front of his face. “I guess you didn’t read the email. If you’re done pissing all over the floor, you can put your dick back in your pants. I’ll be back in two hours. I want your basis of design, statement of requirements, technical specifications, and a full presentation from you and your team.”
There was an audible gasp from others in the room. Everyone stopped what they were doing. Byron stiffened, his pasty face suddenly flashing amber. He stuttered, then stormed out of the room. Garrett beamed. The others looked around at each other, grinning like kids who’d just seen the school bully punched in the nose.
Tess turned to the nearest engineer and offered her hand. “Hi, I’m Tess Carrillo. I’m looking forward to getting to know you. You’ll all be reporting to me now.”
8
Three months later, Tess’s team was in place. The process had moved quicker than she could have hoped. She’d been able to recruit all of her first choices, the best and brightest specialists, with little effort. They c
ame from all over the world. Engineers, data scientists, analysts, and support personnel such as document control and quality assurance. Once she described the project’s mandate, coupled with the fact that they’d be working indirectly for the legendary Anton Satoshi, all had jumped at the chance. They’d been flown up in one of Satoshi’s jets for their interviews, which certainly didn’t hurt her recruiting efforts. Most of those she had selected considered themselves rock stars in their fields anyway. The jet just legitimized their status in their own minds.
Eighty-hour work weeks were the norm for most, more for Tess. She had found the refuge she craved, cloistered in Satoshi’s elegant complex, able now to throw herself into the project, protected by the isolation of the Colorado San Juan Mountains.
The personality dynamics and fragile egos of so many brilliant and eccentric minds were a challenge to manage, and she had significantly underestimated how many problems would result. A large amount of her time was spent acting as a referee. For all the team’s cumulative brilliance, some were surprisingly immature, almost like spoiled children. When they erupted in fits of rage or withdrew in sullen solitude, it was her job to even them out, to ensure they were contributing and that the project was benefiting from their specialized input. Sometimes it felt like unscrewing the tops of their heads, sticking her hand inside their brains, feeling around, and retrieving what she needed. She was thankful she’d worked with someone of Nick Cardigan’s caliber. She often found herself channeling him when faced with situations outside her personal frame of reference.
Byron had let it be known right out of the gate he was displeased with the mandate to integrate his team with a bunch of “code monkeys” and, most of all, relinquish his authority to Tess. Her relationship with Byron deteriorated further when Satoshi emailed a revision of the organization chart to the combined project team, once again clearly showing Tess as the project manager and Byron as her deputy. Tess suspected he had been lobbying behind her back to convince Satoshi to elevate him above her or else remain independent. That suspicion was quickly confirmed.
