by Vern Buzarde
Satoshi turned to Garrett. “We’ll follow you.”
Almost all activity in the lobby had stopped. As they moved toward Q-2, every eye was on them, reminding her once again of Satoshi’s celebrity status.
“Tess, I realize how stifling all this security must be, and it’s probably, to a large degree, unnecessary. But there have been projects infiltrated or otherwise compromised in the past. So in an effort to keep the facility as secure as possible, we’ve initiated some rigid procedures. Unfortunately, that means isolating each project.”
“Have there been any serious breaches?” Tess asked. “Important information stolen?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so. But that was before we brought Garrett on board, along with the best personnel and equipment. Some of this you see every day. Most you don’t. But you can blame him for all of it.”
Tess spotted Byron Lethcoe barreling toward them, a wide, unnatural smile pasted awkwardly on his face, an expression she’d never seen on him before. He waved and called, “Dr. Satoshi. Dr. Satoshi…”
The security guards intercepted him. Byron stopped. “I just wanted to personally welcome you to the facility. I have some ideas, suggestions on how we might—”
Satoshi turned away and nodded for Garrett to continue toward Q-2. One of the guards held his hand up at Byron, then both followed their boss. Byron stood there, deflated, the smile on his face morphing into an angry grimace like a deflated smiley face balloon. Tess almost felt sorry for him.
Garrett swiped his card at the Q-2 entrance and said, “Let’s start here. Per your suggestion, Dr. Satoshi, we’ll save Q-1 for last.” They entered, and he overrode the alarm. They were met by an older woman named Lenore Wilkes, a molecular biologist working on experimental drugs, mainly to treat schizophrenia. Q-2 was an elegant medical facility manned by a staff of twelve.
Lenore led them past people wearing lab coats, hunched over workstations, to a room where five patients were seated, some working on puzzles, others writing intently. Tess saw the girl who had asked her for help.
“Can I say hello to her?” she asked Lenore.
“Of course you can,” Lenore said. “Heather’s a sweet girl, and she’s really making progress. I’m sure she’d love to talk to you.”
Tess introduced herself and said, “Hi, do you remember me?”
“That’s right. I’m so sorry if I scared you that day. I had just started new medication and…well, it takes some getting used to. I’m much better now.”
“Oh, please, don’t apologize. I’m just so relieved to see you’re okay. You’ve made my day.” They smiled at each other. Tess wanted to give Heather a hug but didn’t know if it was appropriate, so she simply told her goodbye. They toured the rest of the facility and sat through a short presentation.
The whole thing had taken less than forty-five minutes. The guilt for not taking a more proactive approach had weighed more heavily than she had realized and her relief now made her slightly giddy.
Garrett pointed toward Q-4 and said, “Over there, they’re building some sort of Frankenstein computer. I hear they even perform human sacrifices on Fridays.” He didn’t look back at Tess, but she was smiling. Inside, they were met by Stijn Van den Berg, a tall blond German who smiled broadly.
“As you probably know,” Satoshi said, “Dora Hahn is on leave and won’t be here to lead this portion of the tour. I’m extremely excited about this particular project. Tess, how familiar are you with nanobots?”
“Just the basic concept. Robots on a molecular level. Potentially useful in medicine.”
“That’s right. But not just mechanical. And not just medicine. We believe programable organic molecules have unlimited potential. By exploiting programmable self-assembly properties of nucleic acids to design nanoshapes and nanomachines, we can customize them for specific purposes. The applications could have as much impact as Prajna will. Right now, we’re focusing on DNA assembly, particularly a technique called DNA origami. These molecules could be designed to clean up oil spills, consume plastics, even radioactive waste. We could clean the oceans in under a year. We could use these custom molecules to purify water, consume toxic landfills, virtually anything. And as you said, we could design them to attack cancer cells or any other disease. The possibilities really are limitless.”
“That’s stunning to contemplate,” Tess said. “Is it really? I mean, is it really feasible?”
“Yes. We’re close. We’ve already developed a group specifically designed to attack petroleum-based products. Basically, organic molecules that turn hydrocarbons into harmless gel. And we’re in the process of finalizing a similar design targeting plastics.” He paused, letting that sink in. “But there are some complications. Not just technical, but potential dangers.” He turned to the German. “Stijn, could you please elaborate?”
“Yes, Dr. Satoshi. One of our main concerns is how to retain total control over the bots. Once released into a human body or the environment, there have to be fail-safes in place to ensure they stop when their target is consumed. Otherwise, they might go from miraculous tools to harbingers of plague. There has to be a self-destruct mechanism. A fixed life cycle. Our preference would be to design them with the ability to assess the number required for the task at hand and replicate accordingly. But…replicating bots is not something we’d ever pursue. Much too dangerous.
“Just as important is a built-in expiration date for each bot created. Without that, they could propagate exponentially. Possibly mutate, seeking other food supplies in an effort to survive. The doomsday scenario? They could consume most of the biological life on the planet. Were we to lose control, well, it’s simple math. In under a week, their cumulative mass could weigh as much as the planet. Needless to say, all other life would cease to exist.”
“Gray goo scenario,” Tess said. “I’ve heard of it.”
“And that’s why we will never engineer the nanobots with the ability to self-replicate,” Satoshi said. “The risks are too great. It’s another example of the absolute necessity for technology to be controlled by the right people. Just like Prajna.”
“This is fascinating,” Tess said. “And disturbing. I don’t even want to think about the ramifications if this technology were weaponized.”
Satoshi smiled. “This technology, combined with the things Prajna will be able to accomplish, will open the door to an astonishing array of wondrous advances. Improvements that would otherwise be impossible.”
Tess had never met anyone like Satoshi and knew it was because no one like him had ever existed before. She was beginning to feel affection, genuine and deep, but not romantic. It was the way she had felt for her father. The fact that Satoshi had allowed her to see all this, had pulled back the curtain, not to mention taking the time to show her personally—it made her feel special.
After a thirty-five minute presentation by Stijn, they headed toward Q-1.
“Anton,” Tess said, “This is all so… I feel so silly you had to… I’m just so honored to have the opportunity. To see all this. It’s so inspiring.”
Byron made another attempt to get their attention, smiling at Tess. The guards motioned for him to move back, and he did. Tess had a sneaking suspicion Byron Let-Go would be living up to his nickname by the end of the year.
In Q-1, they were met by an Asian man Tess had seen around the facility.
“Tess Carrillo,” Satoshi said, “this is Dr. Chin-Hwa Lee. He’s in charge of Cyclops, a space telescope. Our version of the Hubble, but considerably more advanced.”
Tess smiled. “I’m pleased to meet you, sir. Space telescope?” she asked. “A private space telescope?”
“Yes,” Satoshi said. “Shall we start the tour?”
Chin looked hesitant, as if he wanted to ask a question, but before he could, Satoshi said, “Yes, everything. I would like for Tess to leave here understanding the scope of what you
’re doing.”
“Well, then,” Chin said, “let’s start with the most interesting.”
He led them into a dim room featuring a wall-sized screen.
She hadn’t expected it, and for an instant, Tess thought she’d see Ryan. She shivered, momentarily wishing she hadn’t pushed so hard for a glimpse behind the locked doors of Satoshi’s other projects.
Chin picked up a laser pointer and said, “There, that tiny dot is what we’ve focused on for nearly four years. We call it Helios. And we don’t know what it is. We estimate it to be about one thousand meters long. At one point, it came within thirty-three million kilometers of Earth.”
“An asteroid?” Tess asked. “Comet?”
“That’s what we thought at first. But it doesn’t have any of the characteristics of either. Also, it’s cylindrical. Nearly ten times as long as it is wide, and it’s rotating.”
“How fast is it moving?”
“Sixty kilometers per second. At least most of the time. It changed its trajectory after passing the sun. It accelerated.”
“Well, this is way out of my field, but isn’t that a common characteristic of comets? Don’t they release gases from time to time, boosting their speed?”
“Yes, but we can detect an eruption. As far as we can tell, there have been none. We believe Helios is something different, probably not from our solar system. And…” Chin looked at Satoshi, who nodded his head. “We’ve detected faint signals. We believe Helios is transmitting.”
Tess felt the blood drain from her face, remembering Ryan reporting unknown signals being picked up by the Essex. The emotional armor she had carefully constructed cracked open. A box inadvertently opened, releasing painful questions with no answers. The second anniversary of Ryan’s death was two days away.
Why? Why now?
Tess decided to book a flight to Houston for the following day. It was time. Rigid deadline or not, one more thing had to be done. The time had come for a funeral. A funeral for the entity that they had been.
***
Byron flipped the laptop open and logged on to the network. He typed a series of passwords, and within minutes, accessed the security cameras of the facility, something he’d been doing for months. He found it laughably easy. The system had been designed to prevent a breach from outside, which left it vulnerable to anyone with network access.
Byron located Tess, Satoshi, and the others. That he found her so physically attractive only added to the rage he felt, and lately, his sexual fantasies were increasingly violent. The humiliation of being discarded by Satoshi so casually still stung, and he was well aware his days were numbered. And now this… Satoshi was actually allowing her to see the rest of the facility, an obvious sign he was grooming her for an even bigger role.
As the group left, he followed their progress through the hall and out into the main lobby area. He thought about making one last attempt to get Satoshi’s attention but knew now it was a lost cause. He pressed an arrow on the keyboard and zoomed in on Tess’s face.
The Dora Hahn meltdown he’d witnessed had been epic and entertaining. But it revealed a possible opportunity. He’d had plenty of time to watch the obvious divergence of Stijn’s ambitions from the project and his team. Stijn was going rogue, and that could open up a myriad of options. Byron thought it wasn’t a matter of if but when. And when Stijn crossed the line, Byron would be ready. Ready to leverage his knowledge for a generous cut of whatever scheme Stijn was planning.
13
Stijn Van den Berg stared through the atomic force microscope, grinning so widely the muscles in his face began to ache. He had been watching for over an hour but couldn’t will himself to take a break. Although he wasn’t sure just how it had happened, by adjusting the program manipulating the light to a random sequence, one of the carbon-tubed hybrids had replicated itself.
He watched again in real time, a replicator bot creating carbon-tubed hybrids, which then self-destructed at the programmed thirty seconds, limiting their total number to twelve. The realization he’d finally succeeded filled him with such joy he almost cried. He had done it.
Stijn wanted to shout, celebrate his achievement, but he felt protective, unwilling to share his shiny new toys with anyone. Was keeping this to himself a realistic possibility? The other four on the team had to be told. No way around it. Or was there?
Although Dora Hahn, who he referred to as the Pterodactyl, would no doubt go ballistic when she found out, she would have to see the brilliance of his innovation. The fact he was able to control both the frequency of replication and could adjust the destruct sequences was, in his mind, the Holy Grail of this technology. Even though the project mandate banning any research resulting in nanobots capable of self-replicating was specific and non-negotiable, without that ability, their usefulness was degraded by a large margin.
He decided to take a break, rest his eyes. Stijn had been at it for nearly three days, anxious to take advantage of Dora’s temporary leave after the knock-down drag-out fight. He’d finally had the run of the lab without that cantankerous, overbearing woman poking her bird beak nose in his business. He looked at the monitor, confirming the security cameras were locked out. The screen said Inactive.
Stijn wanted to sing, dance, call the New York Times. Tell the world of his groundbreaking discovery, even though he was sworn to secrecy. And contractually obligated to keep anything developed during his tenure confidential. He had signed an extensive, ironclad confidentiality agreement. Anything developed by anyone while employed by Satoshi was proprietary, and any breach of the agreement would result in his financial and reputational ruin.
Revealing this to the team would be tricky, especially to Dora. She wouldn’t be pleased, but she’d have to acknowledge the magnitude of his breakthrough. Thanks to him, the danger was mitigated. The bots were controllable and safe, no more able to turn off their self-destruct program than they could replicate without his intervention. He let that sink in.
My creation. I am like a god.
And what about the financial ramifications? Should he demand more? Surely Dr. Satoshi would be appreciative, even though he’d broken the rules. If anyone understood pushing the boundaries, it was Satoshi. And what about the open market? Could he figure out a way to take a more lucrative path? Did he dare?
Stijn daydreamed about what great wealth could look like. Houses on different continents. Yachts and all they symbolized. And fame. Sought after by the most beautiful women in the world. At fifty-two years old, he had the maturity and sophistication necessary to enjoy wealth. It was just a tiny step away—if he could keep this to himself long enough to get the sample out of here.
How would he do it? The only way would be to sneak the container out of the facility. But it wasn’t like he could put them in a coffee cup or a shampoo bottle. They were extremely unstable; their environment required strict temperature control and a synthesized embryonic fluid, and that itself was highly classified, the formula not known to him.
Could he duplicate them outside the lab? Not likely. They were created through a process that had been engineered by Dora and Satoshi. Stijn had only enhanced them, and if he were to be completely honest with himself, it had been more accident than acumen. Stijn wasn’t even sure how he’d done it. Since he didn’t know how the hybrids were created, in order to achieve his lofty financial aspirations, Stijn would have to maintain this batch. If they were allowed to die without replacing themselves, if the switch was turned off, it might take years to reach this stage again. Years he didn’t have.
Stijn looked around the lab for a container he could seal and sneak out of the facility. There were numerous aluminum tubes and flasks that seemed workable. But he had to stabilize the fluid, keep the temperature constant. Any deviation could affect their stability. He could possibly freeze them. Hypothetically, at zero Celsius, the bots’ life cycle would be suspended indefinitely. O
nce he had a chance to devise a marketing strategy, he could restart the replication sequence. It sounded viable.
The potential applications and customers were limitless. And what would he call them? Something catchy. Using his name. Van den bots? And would he sell them as individual packages? Engineer them to stop replicating after a set period of time so the customers had to renew? Could he? So much to consider. And what about security? It would take a massive amount of security to ensure the technology wasn’t stolen. He’d need help putting it together. But who could he trust? Would Satoshi retaliate? Certainly so, but Stijn would have unlimited resources by then. He’d be on a yacht.
Stijn couldn’t resist taking another look. But the previously clear view was now blurry. He adjusted the focus, zooming in. The picture completely disintegrated. He went into a panic, thinking the bots might have melted somehow or terminated themselves due to some flaw he’d missed. He pulled away from the microscope and made sure the sample was properly aligned, thinking he might have bumped it somehow.
A thought struck him, and his heart sank. Telling himself it wasn’t possible, he adjusted the magnification again, zooming in even more, only to see a more distorted version of the blob. He zoomed out the maximum distance and attempted to recalibrate. As he did, the picture resolved into what had to be thousands of bots.
Stijn froze. The bots had somehow defeated the self-destruct mechanism. But worse, the replicator had to be duplicating itself. The speed with which they were propagating was difficult to grasp. He began to moan, in full-blown panic mode. They had to be stopped, but how? The only way was to destroy them. But what about his new life? He envisioned the yacht sailing away over the horizon.
Then it hit him. If they were able to modify themselves so easily, what else could they do? Maybe he wouldn’t be able to destroy them. Stijn considered just running away. Leaving like a little kid who’s started a fire while playing with matches. But then what? If they weren’t stopped, the bots would rapidly achieve a mass that could—
