by Nick Thacker
Literally.
And, worst of all, Crawford knew about it.
There had been no getting around that. Dr. Lin had opted for honesty during the board meeting, and he was now second-guessing that decision.
What good has come of my telling the truth? he wondered.
He picked up his flattened palm from the top of the metal table and slid around it to the other side. The computer he’d installed and set up sat there, the blank screen waiting. He shook the mouse and the desktop — no icons or clutter to be found on it — immediately stared back at him.
All of it is incriminating.
He knew the answer.
There was research here that he could not destroy. Research that existed outside the realm of what a computer’s hard drive could recall. Research not based on the 1s and 0s of binary computer-speak but the biological binary of DNA and molecules and amino acids.
Living, real proof.
He couldn’t do a thing about that. He wouldn’t do a thing about that.
But he could get rid of the evidence that existed in front of him.
He opened a shell prompt and typed a few commands. Unix-based, as he preferred, and his fingers flew over the keyboard with the consistency and familiarity of a professional programmer. His genius extended beyond his primary role and day job into all realms of science and mathematics, allowing Lin to explore and prosper in many areas unrelated to medicine. Computers were just one of many ‘languages’ he had thoroughly conquered.
The prompt dialog box stared back at him, and he read it quickly, three times, just to be sure.
When in doubt, there is no doubt.
He’d read that in a book somewhere, some time long ago. He had never really known what it meant — it seemed as though if there was doubt, there… was doubt. The statement reeked of untested postulation, the sort of fancy non-speak he prescribed to the type of folks who thought holistic and homeopathic medicine was real medicine.
But now, staring at the prompt, he understood.
The question he had posed to himself, unprovoked, was simple: should I press the key?
And the answer, if he was being honest, was filled with doubt.
When in doubt, there is no doubt.
He was doubting himself, which was a rare occurrence for Dr. Lin. Was it his arrogance? Was this for posterity, his mind making semi-rational arguments against his better nature for reasons of long-term gain? Was there a way he could gain in this?
No, he knew. I’ve lost. It is done.
He pressed the key, and the prompt immediately threw up the tiny hourglass graphic, followed by an empty horizontal bar, slowly filling in as the task completed.
What now? he thought. Is there anything else?
His assistant had already been ‘removed,’ so he knew she wouldn’t be a problem. If they needed her to talk, she would have talked. Nothing to do about her. He moved away from the computer and looked at the bank of monitors on another table, against the wall at the far side of the room.
They were all just displaying information collected and filtered from the server, which was downstairs in Sublevel 3. The computer he had just used was the controlling CPU for the entire room, so there was nothing more he could do from here. The monitors would slowly begin to display error messages and ‘not found’ messages as the data was removed from the storage systems.
The backups.
He realized it then, as he was staring at the monitors. There were backups upon backups, a multi-part redundant data storage system he had done some advising on before taking the job at the laboratory. The backups were accessible only by physically walking down into the space and touching them, not remotely in any way.
He had even advised that they set up a remote backup facility, again that could only be accessed physically, to ensure that if a cataclysmic failure happened here in their facilities they would at least have a retrievable backup.
Okay, that’s the plan, he thought. He had initiated the first phase of the process — deleting the local files and the first stack of data. That would cause a bit of panic at the top, but the board and Crawford would react quickly, working to bring the backups online. So the second phase of the plan was to remove the backups that existed locally, on Sublevel 3, then find and take down the last line of defense, the remote backups.
A tall order, especially for one man. There would be firewalls and heavy security in place, and he felt a pang of anxiety as he thought about it all. He gripped the table, looked at the wall and ceiling and floor again, forced a few breaths.
You’re okay, he thought. Nothing you can’t handle.
It was true. It was nothing he couldn’t handle. Nothing he hadn’t done before, technically. No task too large for a man with his brainpower. It would be difficult, and it would require some luck getting into the right places, but he was already starting to formulate a plan of action.
He liked plans. They gave him courage, and they fought off the anxiety for him.
He looked away from the monitors, already starting to glow with the lines of errors he knew would eventually fill the screens, and walked toward the end of the room.
Toward the glass cages.
Toward the live proof. The proof he couldn’t — wouldn’t — delete.
They would still be here. They had no backups, but they didn’t need them. They were the data.
He sighed heavily, feeling weary.
17
BEN’S DISAPPOINTMENT LASTED ONLY FOR a few minutes. He had been looking forward to some time alone with Julie, knowing that there was a lot they needed to talk about. They had left their cruise on shaky terms, and a bit of pillow talk and alone time would have been well-deserved.
But as soon as he walked out into the hallway once again and began to follow Reggie, his spirits lifted. The hallway was rather plain, not alluding much at all to the fantastic rooms found behind each door, but it was plain in a thoughtful way. Images of the Bahaman coastline stretched across gorgeous landscapes, framed subtly between thin metal frames, no glass. The carpet in the hallway, unlike the soft, luxurious stuff in their room, was harder and thinner, no doubt the industrial, easy-to-clean version of a nice style. It had some embroidered pattern on its edges, gold ribbons on a maroon backdrop, and the entire stretch of carpeting curved along to the left, following the shape the of building they were in.
“Where’s the dining hall?” Ben asked.
Reggie cast a glance toward him. “Which one?” he questioned in reply. “There are three restaurants, one of them expecting four-star status by the end of the year, a buffet cafeteria, and two brunch-exclusive restaurants.”
Julie whistled at Ben’s side. “Which one are we going to?” she asked.
“None of them. We’re at the chef’s table, apparently attached to the four-star place but not technically part of it. We’ll meet Crawford and his executive chef there, but the menu’s special to the night.”
“Sounds like we’re special to the night.”
Reggie nodded. “It does seem that way, doesn’t it? He must be bored, not having anyone else here to entertain besides the investors. Apparently they’re all upstairs in some of the smaller rooms, enjoying the open bar.”
Ben’s eyebrows jumped. “I wouldn’t mind enjoying that either,” he said.
Reggie laughed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if we’re brought up there after dinner. Crawford’s apparently got a decent taste for whiskey.”
Julie grabbed Reggie’s arm. “By the way, friend,” she said. “How do you know all of this? I don’t seem to remember any ‘welcome kit’ on our bed.”
Reggie smiled. “I, uh, got to know my bag lady a bit,” he said.
“Your bag lady?” she asked. “Are you kidding?”
“Well, whatever she’s called. Don’t worry, Jules — I tipped her.”
He winked at Ben. Ben rolled his eyes. Julie made a disgusted noise.
“There she is now,” Reggie said, picking up speed as he walked past
the elevators and moved toward the set of doors at the opposite end of the hall. “This is Dr. Lindgren’s room.”
A woman left the room, turned, and smiled at Reggie. She was wearing the same black outfit as the man who’d brought in Ben’s and Julie’s luggage, a blouse instead of a shirt. She offered a quick wave. “Well hello again, Mr. Red.”
Gareth Red, or ‘Reggie,’ as his unit had dubbed him, blushed. Ben wasn’t sure he’d ever seen the man do such a thing, but he understood why as soon as he came up close enough to the open door.
Dr. Sarah Lindgren stepped out of the room, wearing a gorgeous dinner dress. Sea-blue, tight, and short. Her shoes matched, short heels that revealed much of the top of her foot. She had changed her hair, too, her curls caught up in a wispy bunch that hung off the back of her head and allowed a few strands to trickle down over her neck. Her lipstick was more gloss than color, and her makeup was subtly applied.
“H — hey, Dr.,” Reggie said.
“Please,” she responded. “Call me Sarah. All of you.” She looked at each of them in turn and nodded. She patted the woman who’d emerged from the room first on the shoulder, but addressed Reggie. “Elia here tells me you and her have already had a chance to get acquainted.”
Reggie’s blush returned with a vengeance, his entire face darkening. “I — uh, yeah… we met.”
Sarah smiled from behind calculating eyes. “Well, then I assume you know already our plans for dinner?”
Reggie nodded. “I did get filled in, thanks.”
“We didn’t,” Julie said. “No one bothered to let us know this was a formal affair.” She stared at Sarah, standing innocently in her dress, as she said it, and Ben felt the heat rising in the air.
“I apologize,” Elia said, sheepishly. “Your bellhop should have informed you. We are understaffed, however, so it could be that he simply forgot —”
“It’s fine,” Julie said. “We’ll just have to make do with what we’re wearing.”
Ben looked down at himself and Julie. He was wearing flip-flops and board shorts with a green t-shirt that was stained with ketchup from lunch from two days ago. Julie, on the other hand, looked as amazing as always. She was wearing a cotton coverup over her swimsuit, the same flats she’d worn here from the ship, and a matching anklet and necklace set. Her hair was pulled up into a quick bun, her dark-brownish black hair ‘accidentally’ perfect.
“Well,” Reggie said, clapping his hands together. “We’ve all met, had a moment to gather ourselves, and I’m sure we’re hungry.” He turned to the female bellhop and extended his arm. “Would you show us the way, Elia?”
She nodded and began walking off, a bit too quickly. Ben found himself rushing to keep up. She reached the elevator and flicked at the ‘up’ button. The door immediately opened, and she stepped in, held the door for the rest of them.
Ben followed Julie in and took up a spot near the mirrored side wall of the elevator. He turned slowly, realizing that there were mirrors on only three walls of the car.
The fourth wall, opposite the door, was glass. Rounded, bubbling outward, with a metal railing bending around at waist-high level. They were essentially at sea level, the water extending outward from the outside of the elevator to the opposite shoreline of the second, larger island ring. The water was deeper than the water between the second and third rings, judging by the darker blue color.
He grabbed Julie’s arm and pulled her close as they started ascending, ensuring that she had a view of the three circular rings that made up the park. They rose to the top, the fifth floor, and the view only became more astonishing the higher they went.
The ocean surrounded the park on all sides as far as he could see, giving Ben the impression that the place was far smaller than it truly was. But he could see that the largest ring was massive — stretching out in a wide arc around the two inner rings, the artificial beach situated between it and the second section. The tiny dots of lounge chairs and tables that he’d seen from the helicopter when they’d flown over were smaller now, but from this angle he could see that the cabana-style bars were fully stocked, three ascending rows of whiskeys and rums and other spirits he couldn’t wait to try.
The team had never discussed an official ‘drinking on the job’ policy, but since Mr. E wasn’t a drinker and the others were responsible about it, Ben assumed it was a nonissue, unless a situation became an issue. He and Reggie, in fact, had enjoyed plenty of whiskey while ‘on the job,’ since the lines between being paid and being off work were blurred.
He only hoped that this trip would allow them some relaxation time. He was growing more excited for the dinner, his expectations high for the quality of food they would be served. If the rest of the place was any indication, this park would be an amazing facility and do quite well for themselves.
The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Ben turned back around and watched as the doors parted. The first thing he noticed was the size of this floor. It was small, and he could see the opposite side of the room. The walls were glass, curved like the rest of the building, and they provided a 360-degree bird’s-eye-view of the entire park. A table sat in the middle of the room, round as well, and a lit candelabra formed from coconuts and palm fronds sat at the center of the spread.
“Welcome, again!” Crawford’s enthusiastic voice reached Ben’s ears before he saw the man.
Adrian Crawford was standing against the far wall, near a rolling cart piled high with prepared dishes.
“Come in,” he said, waving them all toward him. “The first course is ready. And I cannot wait to tell you about the park! Come sit!”
18
THE FOOD WAS BETTER THAN anything he’d imagined. Perfectly cooked scallops, wrapped in bacon and served beneath a coating of white wine garlic-basil reduction, on a bed of arugula. And that was just one of the main course options. Mounds of fresh king crab, piled in a towering assortment of rings around a large bowl of garlic butter, and a stack of sea bass fillets with a rosemary lemon pesto.
The vegetables looked just as appetizing. Broccoli and cauliflower, steamed, and carrots and beets nearby.
It was shocking, really. All of the food had just seemed to appear before them, even though Ben had been watching the waiters and waitress the entire time. The food was revealed from within the silver serving platters and domed lids, placed in exacting locations around the center of the table.
“I hope you all like seafood,” Crawford said, taking a spot at the head of the table. “But if not, please do let one of our servers know. There is another group of guests staying with us that will be dining in about half an hour, and their meal will consist of more terrestrial cuisine. Steak, chicken, lamb. All cooked in a southern-Caribbean style.”
Reggie had opened his mouth to respond, but Ben beat him to it. “Uh, wow. That all sounds amazing.”
Julie kneed him under the table.
“Sorry, this — here — this is all amazing,” Ben said. “I didn’t mean to imply —”
“Nonsense!” Crawford said. His enthusiasm grew. “Shannon,” he said, gently grabbing the elbow of the woman who was pouring ice water into his glass. “Would you mind bringing up a sampling of the dinner we’re serving on 2?”
She nodded, finished pouring, then handed the pitcher to her associate and left the room.
“Let’s get started, shall we?” Crawford said.
Ben nodded, excited to get started on the food sprawled out in front of him.
“OceanTech was a dream of mine from a very young age,” Crawford began.
Oh, Ben thought. It’s a speech. I thought we were starting dinner. He released the section of crab legs he’d picked up.
“I wanted to combine the thrill of education with the excitement and mystery of the sea,” he said. “I was, admittedly, a bit of a nerd, but I realized then something that I’ve built my career on: people love to learn. The trouble is that they just don’t know how, or what they’d like to learn. OceanTech, and this place, the
Institute, is the product of that line of reasoning.
“By combining the wonders of the deep with a relaxing, intriguing, and fun environment, OceanTech Institute will hopefully rekindle the spark in all of us. The spark of knowledge.”
Ben wanted to roll his eyes. Sure, this place was great, and the food looked amazing — he was still impatiently awaiting the moment he could dig in — but he had never been one for learning. School wasn’t his best subject.
Reggie, on the other hand, was enjoying Crawford’s monologue immensely, sitting perched at the edge of his seat, his elbows on the table. Dr. Lindgren was next to him, leaning back to see around him. Julie sat on the opposite side of the table next to Ben, and she also seemed engaged.
Isn’t anyone else hungry? he wondered. What are we waiting for?
The food beckoned. His stomach growled. Julie kneed him again under the table.
“Enough for now,” Crawford said. “I do have a bit of the performance bug in me. I apologize — let’s eat.”
He waved his hands around in a flourish and the two remaining waiters rushed in on opposite sides of the table and began to serve the items onto everyone’s plate. Crawford, however, did not stop his presentation.
“When I first began doing research for this place, I wanted to build a place that could exist independently from its combined idea. I wanted a five-star resort, in and of itself, as well as a museum of sorts. And I wanted both to be able to stand alone as the best in the world of their kind.”
“And by combining them it’s the best of both worlds,” Reggie said.
“Precisely,” Crawford said. “The institute is perfect for everyone — come to study, learn, and grow, or come to relax, be pampered. Or, of course, both.”
“Why here?” Julie asked. “This location — it’s… odd. It seems like you would be more hurricane-prone out here than on the other side of the state, in the Gulf somewhere. Or at least north of The Bahamas rather than northwest.”
Crawford examined Julie for a moment before answering. “An intriguing question, Ms. Richardson. The answer is quite simple, but it is one you might not expect.”
