by VK Fourstone
“Come on, don’t you recognize your own uncle?”
“Yes, I do,” Bikie replied in a theatrically feeble voice.
The lab assistant left without waiting for the mock relatives to embrace. He’d done his job, the rest was none of his business. As soon as the lift doors closed, Isaac sighed in relief and the professor sprang at Bikie.
“Well? Did it work?”
Before Bikie could even answer, they suddenly heard someone running down the corridor. The Police?
No, it was the girl from reception, and striding rapidly behind her was… Wolanski!
“Peter?” Isaac was astonished. “Is this a special day for surprises?”
“Is this man with you?” asked the girl. “He demanded to be let through to you.”
“Yes, he’s with us, thank you.”
The girl left. Peter walked up to Bikie, ruffled up his hair and asked:
“How’s things, old buddy?”
“Thanks, Peter, fine.”
“You a Veggie?”
“No.” Bikie grinned. “But there are cameras here, so be careful.”
Peter held his hand out to the professor.
“Peter.”
“I know who you are. I saw your photos at the villa,” growled Link, reluctantly shaking the hand. He was clearly annoyed by Peter’s sudden appearance. “Isaac, I don’t understand the point of these unnecessary improvisations!” The professor did not try to conceal that he was angry.
“He didn’t know either, professor,” Peter replied calmly. “I was going to arrive last evening, before the downloading, but my plane was delayed slightly.”
Wolanski intended to continue, but at this point Bikie got up.
“Maybe we should make tracks out of here first?” he asked.
The plotters finally realized that it had all worked! Isaac and Peter exclaimed “Yes!!!” in unison and dashed towards their friend.
After hugging them, Bikie walked over to thank Link.
“Congratulations, Bikie, and please return the Dictaphone that I gave you,” the professor still looked agitated.
“Hang on, Link, let’s get out…”
“Give it to me right now!” The professor’s voice was far from friendly.
Bikie frowned.
“Right now? What’s the problem, professor?”
“Hand it over!” Link barked, taking a handgun with a silencer out of his briefcase.
“What are you doing, Link?” asked Isaac, flabbergasted. “Have you lost your mind? Put the gun away!”
“Give me the Dictaphone, quick! There are scads of cameras here, I don’t have time to stand here jawing with you!” growled the professor.
“No, I won’t! What’s in it? What kind of ‘sub-insurance’?” Bikie’s voice was firm.
Link coolly trained the pistol on Bikie.
“It’s merely a little copy of the latest data base. Harmless, but it means a lot to me. The latest technologies that have been developed. It is the payment for my invention. And taking a bullet for it is very bad for your health. You can keep the hack as a souvenir. You never know, it might come in useful.”
“What a bastard you are, Link! Now I understand why you didn’t want to go to the police! You wanted to steal the technologies right from the start, you were just messing with me! We all took risks here for nothing! Bikie risked everything!” Isaac was absolutely furious.
“It’s billions of dollars, you dope! And by right they’re mine! What I said about the police was perfectly sincere, you idiot! Everyone wants money. Not only you, Bikie!” Link started losing his temper too. “Go running to the police, Isaac, if you’re so smart. You have a good thousand living proofs now!” Then he turned to Bikie: “And you give me that copy, you blockhead, or I’ll put a bullet through that tattooed noggin!” Link aimed the pistol straight at Bikie’s head.
“I don't believe it's about money. What is it, Professor?” Isaac trembled from betrayal.
”It is knowledge, Isaac. A small portable server. Now it's filled with data and will help me to continue the research, develop Einsteiner, create its advanced version. There is a pool of knowledge, which I lack to move on,” the Professor looked at Isaac with undisguised contempt, "did you really believe that I will agree to destroy the great miracle that I've created? You two are narrow-minded idiots, conveniently turned up on my way to help me achieve the goal. You will never become scientists with these approaches, inventing your little trinkets. And you can't see three steps ahead!”
“We ruined your miracle, grandpa God!” angrily interrupted Bikie.
“Well, well. Let's see,” said the Professor, moving the gun to Isaac's head. “Maybe shoot him first?”
Bikie wanted to turn to the Professor, but Wolanski suddenly stepped in between Bikie and Link, turning his back to the professor.
“Please, Bikie, hand it over. He was aiming at Isaac’s head, so now he may be aiming at the back of mine. Hand it over for our sake,” said Peter. “You’re my friend. Give him the damned technologies, let him choke on them.”
Bikie reluctantly handed the Dictaphone to Peter.
“An attractive little gismo. Very stylish. But not worth dying for.”
Wolanski turned to Link.
“Here, take it. And now clear out!”
“Brat! How dare you? You three are just three dumb heads, blind with hate, three inquisitors of science! Punks, who tried to kick the ass of evolution. Pathetic froggies! I’ve created the only possible safe artificial intellect which has already saved millions of lives. You are just regular half-wits, you were nothing but the means at hand, like a taxi driver who brought me here, not more. The Collective Mind gave the world as many good things as God! Or more! It gave peace and happiness, created paradise on the earth, here and now. Releasing the energy of these people you won’t get anything – they will all come back, you’ll see. Your lousy freedom is nothing but fighting for survival. Do you really believe this kind of freedom is needed? Your freedom results in wars for different spiritual values, material benefits. Order! That’s what they need! Freedom is in order! Jerks!”
The professor mumbled something else and backed away into the lift he had called, still pointing the gun at them. When the doors had almost closed, he smiled sneeringly, swung his arm and tossed the gun into the corridor. It fell with a crashing, the silencer flying in one direction and the gun in the other. The pistol was not real. It was a plastic fake.
“Ah, you slime ball,” exclaimed Bikie, kicking the doors.
“Let him go,” said Wolanski. “The professor is in for a little surprise too.”
“What have you done?” Isaac cracked down on Wolanski. “That asshole tricked us.”
“Bikie, Isaac, wait, it’s all right. Here, take your Dictaphone, Bikie. The professor took away a real Dictaphone,” said Peter, emphasizing the last two words. “I even recorded a greeting for him,” Wolanski said with a smile. “Now we’re definitely clearing out of here, and quick!”
“What didn't you say that the gun was a fake?” screamed Bikie.
“Sush! You're a Happie, remember? There are cameras everywhere. So I bought us some time until Link figures out that what he has is fake,” calmly replied Peter.
Recovered from the shock, the false donors ran along the corridor to the exit. Not completely recovered yet, Bikie stumbled on the stairway and Isaac helped him get up. Outside a car with driver was waiting for them. As soon as they all got in, it drove away.
Bikie checked that he was holding the professor’s Dictaphone. It was still there, in his pocket.
“Peter, can you explain all this, maybe?” Isaac asked.
“In a moment,” Wolanski replied, “Not here. Have you got anything in the hotel worth going back for?”
“Nothing special. The biker jacket that Bikie gave me. I have my passport with me.”
“Bikie, how about you?”
“No. I’ll buy everything new now. And a jacket for Isaac too.”
“That’s just grea
t. Then we go straight to my place.”
In the elevator Link held the Dictaphone carefully. It was priceless! “That’s strange, the keys are not taped over,” he thought. And it looked absolutely new. He suddenly felt a vague doubt. The screen indicated that there was one recording. “What the hell is this?” the professor swore and pressed the playback key.
“Hi, professor,” the Dictaphone said in Wolanski’s voice. “If you’re listening to this, it means I was right. I have a piece of advice for you. It is better to be a heroic freedom fighter than a member of a terrorist group. I wish you luck!”
What sort of drivel was that? Link was berserk with rage upon realizing that he got fooled. The lift doors opened and he saw the hall crowded with people. The professor tried to jostle his way through them to the exit, but suddenly a man standing beside him shouted:
“Look, it’s Professor Link!”
Standing a bit farther off than the throng of journalists was the professor’s red-bearded assistant. Link had summoned him a few days earlier and they were supposed to meet today. Red Beard watched what was happening helplessly, not knowing what to do. People were exulting, shouting, squealing. He watched red-faced Link, totally bewildered and frightened, being tossed in the air like a champ by the ecstatic crowd. Others were trying to squeeze through the crowd with microphones at the ready. How had they recognized the disguised professor, and who had gathered them here?
Having reached the famous Plaza Hotel, the car stopped. Peter asked the driver to wait for an hour and invited the friends upstairs to his room. He poured himself some water and finally explained everything.
“In my bedroom and all over the house, even in the grounds, there are lots of hidden video cameras,” Wolanski began. “I wasn’t intending to snoop on you. Well, sorry, maybe just to start with. I didn’t really know you, it was just in case. After Amsterdam, to be honest, I never looked even once. But then an alert message was triggered, telling me you’d gone into my bedroom after all. I was angry of course, but when I saw that it was Link himself, that you’d found him after all, I decided not to say anything. But I keep a few personal things in my bedroom, and it would have been unpleasant if Link found out about them. I watched the recordings once in a while to check that he didn’t poke around into my chest of drawers. I also noticed that he always locked the door. That seemed strange to me. Anyway, I started spying on him.”
“Well, I wasn’t an undergraded flankey either, and when I realized that if the professor was locking the door and working on two devices, but only showing you one of them, I concluded that he was doing something you might not like. They were connected in some way, he usually switched them on at the same time. Then I saw that he had bought a gun. I thought it was real at first too. It really looks like it.”
“Dammit, Peter, and I thought you were super-cool, but it turns out you knew the gun wasn’t real?” Bikie chortled.
“Of course I did. How do you think he could have got a real one past the metal detector? Think about it!”
“Hell knows. He’s a smart guy.”
“Damn the gun anyway. In a situation like that, no one could tell it was a toy. Anyway, I had no more doubts: he hid the second device too carefully before he left the bedroom. And then he stuck the gadget in the casing of a Dictaphone. Sure, I couldn’t make out what it was, but I bought a Dictaphone exactly like it just in case.”
Isaac got a kick out of listening to Peter. It was a real pleasure to deal with intelligent people. Yes, Isaac had screwed up a bit, been too trusting. But did he really have any choice?
“So then it was important not to miss the day when you went for the hack. Hanging about with you in New York was too dangerous, given that you had already dragged a policeman bound hand and foot into my home.”
“I decided not to put you in the picture about that,” explained Isaac. “That way, if anything went wrong, you could wriggle out of it. Who knows, they could have stuck you on some kind of lie detector. But that way, you were clean.”
“Isaac, you frightened me so badly with your secrecy and your coded telephone conversations that I couldn’t even share my thought about Link with you. And you also forgot to warn me about the first attempt. You should be grateful it didn’t work out and we have the Dictaphone now.” He remained silent for a while, then added: “And I actually wanted to do it myself”.
“Peter, you are super,” Isaac smiled delightedly. “But I must admit that I was more concerned about hacking into the system and giving the Veggies their energy back. If Link happened to steal something from the Agency in the process, I couldn’t give a damn. They’re no friends of mine. Although, of course, it’s a pity the professor turned out to be such a lowlife. He deserves a good lesson for that!”
“Oh, you still haven’t heard the end of my story. I took care of that too. I made a few calls to various editorial offices and told them Link would be at the American branch of the Agency in the former Guggenheim Museum. As proof I even sent them a photo from my web camera. I knew he would be in disguise, but someone would recognize him anyway.”
“And what if he hadn’t been a traitor?”
“Then he would have gotten away through the side entrance with us,” shrugged Peter. Then he glanced at his watch and added: “By the way, it’s time we got out of here. Link most likely knows that he took a fake. We’re going to the airport. I’ve already bought tickets for the plane. The flight’s in two and a half hours.”
“Peter, but how did you know the professor would leave on the lift?” Isaac enquired.
“I didn’t. But it’s quite logical. He’s not twenty years old, to go running along corridors. But even if he had it would make no difference – to hell with him anyway.”
In the car Isaac admired the city again. If everything worked out, he would be back here soon. With Michelle and Vicky. And maybe with Pascal, Bikie and Peter. But right now he wanted to go home.
Epilogue
At the airport the incredible news was showing on all the channels on all the screens. People thronged round the monitors. Everywhere it was “Breaking News”, “Professor Link Found”, “Scientific Genius is Back”, “Rioting Breaks Out in Veggie Colony in Queens”, “Happies Make Shocking Claims”.
Bikie and Isaac craned their necks and watched the reports along with everyone else, their eyes glued to the screens. “Happies Riot in Brooklyn and Staten Island”, “Collective Mind Does Not Comment”, “Professor Link’s Press Conference Set for 5p.m.”
“At the very least we totally liberated New York,” Bikie whispered contently.
“That’s for sure. Today we’re definitely the world’s newsmakers. When we get home we’ll celebrate big time!”
“I wonder if Pascal, Michelle and Pellegrini are seeing this.”
“You bet they are!”
Bikie turned towards Isaac, lowered his eyes and said in a guilty voice:
“You know, I wanted to tell you something. I hope you’ll understand… I’m not flying out with you two, Isaac. I’ll come back, but not straight away. Michelle’s waiting there for you, and Vicky. You won’t have any time for me right now anyway. And I want to breathe the air here for a while. I’m absolutely loaded now. Yesterday I went into a Harley Davidson store and there was this real blast of a machine in there! I want it. Since I am in the States and I am rich, I’m going to buy that beauty and ride right across America. I can even meet the local boys and ride with them for a while, I’ll drop into Chicago and Vegas. I’m sure you understand, little bro. It’s an old dream of mine, and I don’t want to put it off any longer. Future is unpredictable, you know.”
Isaac gave Bikie a hug.
“Good luck, Bikie. I’ll tell you honestly, I will miss you. Hanging with you was cool, and great fun. Stay here, of course, I understand. And while you are at it you can hide Link’s legacy somewhere good and safe. It's not safe to fly with them.” Isaac gave devices to his friend.
“Good luck to you too, Isaac. Of course, han
ging with you was pretty boring, not heavy, but…” Bikie smiled. “Ah, to hell with these wisecracks! Of course it was awesome! I’m even sorry it is over!”
The guys hugged each other again and walked off in different directions.
Isaac looked out the plane window. He most likely changed the world by turning it back to normal. After this, the Collective Mind would be a matter for the police; let them now deal with the Agency, and the millions of Veggies all around the world. Isaac’s team had produced what was most important – enough evidence to put an end to the whole thing.
He recalled the news reports: the amazement and horror of the newly awoken Happies, the bewildered policemen, Professor Link, the spokesman of the Agency. Many of the former Happies wept, some from happiness and joy, others from grief at losing years of their lives.
Yes, the world will become more dangerous, but it will be itself again. The best minds would now understand the true value of their lives. After their fortunate rescue, they would never again agree to become Happies. It was as if some huge plane had crashed and everyone had survived. They had all been given a second chance, and they would not blow it.
It was good that Pellegrini was on top of everything. Let them decide what to do now, when and where to summon Isaac, Bikie and the main witnesses – Pascal and Link. How everything would be done, through an urgent session of the UN itself or some other international organization, was none of Isaac’s concern. The important thing was that COMA and downloading would be stopped forever.
Isaac felt unusual pleasant lightness. Vicky would soon be completely well. In a year at most he would earn some money from his invention and buy a decent place to live – he couldn’t hang about at Wolanski’s place forever. Isaac felt different, new somehow. In the last few months he had acquired true friends, one of whom he had brought back from the past by plucking him out of the quagmire of the “time machine”. But the most important thing was that he had won. And his victory made him worthy of a girl he would never even have dared to approach – the beautiful Michelle Blanche.
