The Infinity Program

by Richard H Hardy

  Ted Blume might as well have been staring head on at a speeding train. Jon realized it was all up to him.

  “The answer is that we never intended to complete the factorization at a purely quantum mechanical level. We opted for a mixed strategy that also includes elliptic curve factorization methods and algebraic group factorization methods.”

  Eric Meyers had no immediate response. Instead he fixed his intense stare on Tom Delaney, who blurted out, “That’s not in the document.”

  Ted Blume had more than regained his composure. “As Jon stated a moment ago,” he said, “the document is an overview. It was never intended as a comprehensive guide.”

  Eric’s voice dripped with disdain. “What he said a moment ago is entirely beside the point,” he said. “Our point is that the documentation is completely unsatisfactory as it stands. We need a comprehensive document that fully describes the capabilities of the new operating system. We also need a flow chart that describes the procedures and the algorithms in the decryption software.”

  “That would be a huge project,” Ted protested. “It’s not part of the agreement we signed with you the other day.”

  “We can draw up an additional agreement,” said Meyers, his tone flat. He bobbed up and down on the balls of his feet and surveyed the table like a chess master reviewing the positions of his pawns. When no one responded immediately, he sat down at the table and poured himself another cup of coffee.

  “I’ve got a question, Jon,” Lettie said, facing him. “Do you have any notes from Harry on these different factorization strategies?”

  “No,” Jon said. “This was just general background information that Harry gave me during an informal discussion.”

  Ted Blume cleared his throat and, facing Meyers, explained, “Jon can get on the same wavelength as Harry. They work really well together.”

  Meyers smirked. “From what I’ve seen so far, they seem to be joined at the hip.”

  Lettie burst into laughter, and Jon knew his face must a close match to the red curtains just behind him. Eric Meyers quickly joined in, snickering at his own joke.

  Lettie wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes. “I’m sorry, Jon, I just couldn’t help it.”

  Jon’s face was still suffused with heat. He could think of nothing to say.

  Eric Meyers and Tom Delaney looked at each other and, a split second later, both men stood up. “Well,” said Meyers, “I guess that about covers it. Naturally we’ll be expecting the new documentation as soon as possible.” He flashed an oily smile at Lettie and strode swiftly out of the conference room. Tom Delaney reached across the table to grab a donut before trailing after Meyers.

  Ted Blume rolled his shoulders, obviously relieved that the pair was gone. “We’ve got our work cut out for us,” he said with a loud sigh.

  “We sure do,” said Lettie. “I’ll schedule some time with Harry and get started right away.”

  “No, don’t do that,” said Ted. “Everything to do with Harry must go through Jon. That’s per the orders of the Old Man himself. You and Jon will have to work together on this one, Lettie. Jon will handle all the technical interviews with Harry. You and Jon can get together afterward. Any questions you have for Harry will need to be submitted through Jon.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Jon saw Lettie stiffen up. Her face looked at least two shades paler and her knuckles were white as she gripped her pen. When he gave her a direct look, she glanced down at her notes, carefully avoiding his gaze.

  Ted stood up. “If any of you have questions, please feel free to come to me.” Lettie followed close behind as he exited the meeting room.

  Honoring her discomfort, Jon waited a moment or two before leaving himself. Tina Johnston and Ed Merkle remained behind to scavenge the last remaining pastries and donuts.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Harry barely noticed the tingling sensation at the top of his head as the Josephson’s junction hummed with activity. His interface with the quantum computer had become second nature, seamless and intuitive.

  He had recently figured out how to use the visualized workspace—an important component of the Root utilities—and was working through a few exercises to solidify his understanding. A thousand images exploded in front of him, all more vivid than in the most intense dream. The workspace was now filled with countless perspectives of the structural attributes of a 1949 Studebaker. Harry zeroed in on the engine block, which was suddenly laid out in a complex series of two-dimensional images.

  Harry loved the projective transformations the utility allowed him. It was a potter’s wheel of the mind where he could shape his thoughts into the most unbelievable patterns.

  His exercise was straightforward—to combine elements of the mechanical nanotechnology module with the more flexible and programmable nanobot module. He was programming nanobots to assemble a fully functional scale model of a 1949 Studebaker. The end result would be a toy Studebaker of no use to anybody, but the process was a valuable lesson that would sharpen his skills.

  The images in the workspace were replaced with a long list of parameters he had selected. He reviewed them quickly, exited from the link, and was again aware of being seated at his desk. A diet soda, to the right of the keyboard, was beaded with sweat. It had sat untouched for nearly fifteen minutes. Harry took a sip and then glanced at the monitor. The same parameters that had appeared moments before in the workspace now filled the screen. Barely looking at them, he punched “Enter” and waited to see what would happen.

  Suddenly, from out of nowhere, a cloud of black insects began to whirl around his desk. They were like fleas and seemed to leap about willy-nilly, thickening into a dark cloud. An ingot of metal began to emerge from within the cloud. Gradually, as the cloud thinned out and the insects vanished, Harry could see what his programmable nanobots had created—a ten-inch scale model of a 1949 Studebaker. To Harry’s critical eye, it was a perfect replica. The nanobots disappeared, reduced to component molecules upon completion of the job.

  Harry was reaching over to pick up the scale model Studebaker, when he heard a knock on the door.

  “Goddamn it!” said Harry, loud enough to scare off most would-be visitors.

  Harry heard the hinges squeak as the door swung open and then the thud of footsteps in the outer part of his office. Two seconds later, Eric Meyers stood before his desk. Harry was so surprised by his sudden appearance that he was slow to react.

  “I’ve come here hoping to bury the hatchet,” said Eric without preamble.

  Harry was perplexed by Meyers’ statement. In his literal-minded way, he thought immediately of John Balis, referred to by everyone at HTPS as The Hatchet.

  “You want to bury John Balis?” Harry asked. His disbelief was written on his face. Who was this psycho?

  It was Eric Meyers’ turn to look perplexed. “John Balis? Who the hell brought up John Balis?”

  “You did,” Harry shouted.

  Eric Meyers shrugged off the miscommunication. “Mind if I sit down?”

  “Get the hell out of my office.”

  Eric Meyers sat down anyway. “I won’t take up much of your time. I know you’re a busy guy. I just want to find out where we’re at with the decryption software.”

  “Get out!” Harry screamed.

  Meyers continued to react as if Harry’s behavior was completely reasonable. If he flinched, the motion was nearly imperceptible. Crossing one leg over the other, he said in an even voice, “I just want to know where we’re at. As soon as you tell me, I’ll get out of here.”

  Harry glared at him. But then he regained a measure of self-control and plopped down into his desk chair. Folding his arms across his chest, he leaned forward and enunciated clearly, as though addressing the hard-of-hearing, “We’ve made a start and taken the first step. Now get THE HELL out of here.”

  Deliberately obtuse, Meyers focused on the first part of Harry’s reply. “That’s good—you’ve made a start. The journey across China begi
ns with the first step.” He looked casual and relaxed as he said this, leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head and a satisfied smile on his face.

  Harry growled, “Who the hell said anything about China?”

  Eric Meyers blew out an exasperated puff of air. “It’s an expression,” he said with an exaggerated shrug.

  Harry’s jaw was clenched as he ground out, “A2 + B2 = C2—that’s an expression. What you just said is bullshit.”

  This finally earned Harry a reaction. Meyers’ face reddened. “I just want to know where things are at with the programming.”

  By now Harry was close to hyperventilating. “You want to know where things are at?” he said in a dangerously quiet voice. “Well, I’ll show you, goddamn it.”

  Spinning around, he began to punch commands into the keyboard. He felt a vibration at the top of his head and in an instant Eric Meyers vanished, replaced by the virtual world of the quantum computer. With a single thought, Harry accessed the Root utility. Seconds later a thousand images appeared on his visualized work space. This time, instead of automobile parts, they were human anatomical parts. With blazing speed, Harry selected the parts he wanted to target for programming. After that he shifted his attention to the nanobot directory. Again, with amazing speed, a series of images winked into existence. They were tiny, insect-like devices, nanobots specifically selected for their search and retrieve function. Like a distant echo, he heard the sound of Eric Meyers’ voice.

  “What the hell are you doing, Sale? You look like a fuckin’ cretin, sitting there with your mouth open like that.”

  A long list of parameters winked into existence in the visualized workspace. Harry reviewed them rapidly and then broke the connection to the quantum computer.

  “You are the weirdest guy I’ve ever come across,” said Eric Meyers.

  Harry saw the same parameters listed on the monitor in front of him. He punched “Enter” and turned toward Eric Meyers. He was more relaxed now. There was even a smile on his face.

  “Wipe that shit-eating grin off your face,” Meyers snarled.

  Harry raised an index finger. “Wait,” he said softly. He thought Meyers was going to jump out of his chair and punch him. “Just wait,” he said again.

  A cluster of black dots appeared on Eric Meyers’ leg, but the man didn’t even notice. He was too busy glaring at Harry.

  The black dots climbed up to the top of Meyers’ leg and disappeared down his waist band. Harry watched as Meyers shifted uncomfortably in his chair. There was a dangerous look in his eyes.

  Meyers lurched forward, his look of anger replaced by one of surprise. He yelped like a small dog that has been kicked and leaped out of his chair. He began to leap from foot to foot, all the while swatting his backside with his hands.

  “Is something wrong, Private?” Harry asked.

  Meyers did not answer. He was dancing wildly about Harry’s office, swatting at his posterior.

  Harry walked to the outer part of the office and opened the door, watching with amusement as Eric Meyers danced into the hallway.

  “Come back any time!” Harry called after him.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The senior IT administrator at Global E.Y.K., Incorporated sat nervously in the reception area just outside the president’s office. Should I tell him the facts or should I try to put a positive spin on it? he thought. But before he could decide, the president’s administrative assistant called out, “Mr. Eccles is ready to see you now.”

  As soon as he entered the office, he was intimidated. It was both cavernous and posh. Even the desk in front of the president was larger than his own office in the IT section.

  For nearly two minutes the president of Global E.Y.K. ignored the man, focusing instead on a sheaf of papers before him. When he finally looked up, his eyes were narrowed to flinty points.

  “How the hell could anyone hack into our IT system?” he asked bluntly, with no preamble whatsoever.

  “I can’t explain that, sir,” the little man replied. He smoothed his thinning blond hair into place. His voice sounded squeaky, even to him. He knew they called him “The Mouse” behind his back, despite his elevated position. “Our firewall was installed by the same company that designs firewalls for the Pentagon,” he insisted. “We’re state-of-the-art.”

  “We were state-of-the art yesterday,” the president said angrily. “But where are we today?”

  The question hung in the air, an open-ended challenge for the young IT administrator.

  “The system has been checked from top to bottom. We even brought in a consultant, a top man in the field, and he couldn’t find any points of vulnerability. Whoever did it has got to be one of the best systems people out there.”

  “A high school freshman, no doubt,” the president said sarcastically.

  “We’ve pretty well ruled that possibility out,” said the IT administrator. “Whoever did this has had a great deal of systems experience. Our working theory is that an organized team hired by a foreign power is behind this.”

  “Was there any damage done to our system?” the president asked.

  “No. There was just the message that was sent out across the system.”

  The president looked down at the hard copy of the simple text message that had been displayed on all monitors linked to their system: “Cut your waste emissions by 85% by the end of this month or you will be hurt where it hurts the most,” it said succinctly.

  “What’s your opinion?” said the president. “Is the threat real?”

  “We think it’s a bluff,” said the IT administrator, but his voice did not carry much conviction.

  “What do you think it means when they say ‘We will hurt you where it hurts the most’?” The president was more rattled than the senior IT administrator had ever seen him. The man was famous for his cool exterior. In the movie version of his life, he would have been played by Harrison Ford. He had that all-American, splendidly preserved aspect to him.

  “We’ve given that a lot of thought. Our strategic vulnerabilities are as follows: our power plants, our power transfer stations, and our energy storage facilities.”

  The president’s smile was devoid of humor. “Is that really the best you could come up with?”

  The senior IT administrator had nothing to say. He knew it was a rhetorical question. Eccles looked down at his desk and began to examine another sheaf of papers. “Let me ask you one more question. How do we manage our financial transactions at Global?”

  “Why, we manage them electronically, sir.” A split second later it occurred to him what Eccles was driving at. He couldn’t believe he had missed it. It was so obvious now that it had been pointed out to him. For anyone with the expertise to hack into a super secure system, bogus transfers of electronic funds would be child’s play.

  “Oh, my God!” he said.

  “Don’t just sit there sputtering, do something about it!” Eccles shouted.

  The IT administrator jumped up as though he had just received an electric shock. “Right away, sir,” he said. He made a bee-line to the exit. When he closed the door to the president’s office behind him, he did not look back.

  Chapter Thirty

  Jon thought he had turned a corner with Harry. He figured their friendship exempted him from Harry’s fits of wrath. As it turned out, he couldn’t have been more wrong.

  The first incident came on the day he approached Harry about full documentation for the new operating system. Harry’s appearance should have warned him off. He was disheveled and wild-eyed. His hair was uncombed, and uneven clumps stuck out in twelve different directions. He was unshaven and in dire need of a shower. His eyes had an unhealthy gleam and he blinked again and again as though having a problem with his vision.

  “They need what!” he shouted, almost at the top of his lungs.

  “They want complete documentation for your new operating system,” Jon explained, slightly rephrasing his request.

  Har
ry crossed his arms angrily and positioned his chair to face Jon.

  “What do they want that for?”

  “I can’t answer that. You’d have to ask them.”

  Harry leapt out of his chair and stood almost nose to nose with Jon. “Are you telling me you want me to go to them?” he shouted. “That’s your job.”

  “Take it easy, Harry. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. I was being rhetorical.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Jon raised his palms, trying to ward off Harry’s wrath. “I mean I have no idea why they want complete documentation, none whatsoever. But they do. They’ve asked Lettie and me to put it together.”

  Harry was seated again. “I’ll print out the source code and you can take it from there,” he said gruffly.

  “Harry, I’ve seen the source code. There’s no way anyone can follow it unless you explain it first.”

  Judging from his flushed skin and bulging eyes, Harry was on the verge of a heart attack … or a temper tantrum. “I’m not a documentarian,” he yelled, “I’m a programmer. Can’t you and Lettie just cook something up? Isn’t that what you guys are paid to do? Just look at any document around here—everything that’s perfectly obvious is done to death and all the more technical points are skipped over. You don’t need me to write stuff like that. You can do it on your own.”

  As irritated as Jon was, he knew only too well that he would never get results if he chose to be confrontational. “Harry, you’re the only one who knows how things work. We need your expertise. Your code is over the head of anyone else working here. We can’t document it without input from you.”

  Harry huddled in his chair, fists clenched like an angry two-year-old’s. Jon’s expression was full of hope.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Harry finally said, the childish pout still on his face. There was a long, uncomfortable silence. “Could you leave me alone now?” he added. “I’ve got some serious issues to tackle.”