Altschuler frowned. Of course! Hall was absolutely right. “Are you willing to confide in Cameron Fyfe?” he asked.
“No. Not yet.”
“Then this will be a problem. Without him knowing why, there’s no way we can convince Cameron to call off the press conference. Let alone to bury the technology.”
“I realize that,” said Hall. “But now that you know, we have three minds working on the problem. Four if you count yours twice,” he added with a wry smile. “So let’s think this through for a few minutes.”
“Okay,” said Altschuler. He paused for several seconds. “First and least important—for now—is killing your psi ability. There are a number of things that could be tried, but there are no guarantees that it can be shut down without doing irreparable damage.”
“Wouldn’t removing the implants do it?” asked Hall. “Almost for sure?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. There are two likely possibilities. Perhaps the precise, to-the-micron placement of the four implants triggers this, and will do so in everyone. But even if this is the case, removing them would be dangerous for you. The techniques are as non-invasive as we can make them, but your implants aren’t just on the surface of your brain. These are buried deep. Placing them, and removing them, can’t be done without causing some neuronal damage. The brain is quite plastic and can recover—and also compensate—but I’ve seen your file, Nick. Kelvin Gray repositioned the implants dozens of times trying to find the right configuration. He did the same with twenty-six others until their brains were so chewed up they turned into vegetables or died.”
“So you’re saying Nick’s brain can’t take any more abuse,” said Megan.
“I wouldn’t risk it. Along with the physical abuse, he was given a steady diet of Erase 190 to further muck with his brain chemistry. Even the minor damage incurred by removal of his implants at this point could be the straw that broke the camel’s back.”
“But you said there are other things you could try,” said Megan hopefully.
Altschuler nodded. He opened his mouth to speak, but Hall cut him off.
“You said there were two likely possibilities as to how I developed ESP. The first is the exact placement of the implants. What’s the second?”
“That the merry path the implants took through your brain was cumulatively responsible. It could be one-in-a-million coincidence. If invoking ESP requires the exact recipe; the exact pathway Gray took as he repeatedly plowed through your brain; the exact level of electrical output; the exact level of neuronal damage done as a result; the exact length of time they were at any given position, and so on, it might never be replicated in anyone.”
“Or it might require the exact pathway, but with length of time and these other factors not being critical, correct?” said Megan. “More open to minor variations. So, difficult to achieve, but not impossible.”
“Correct,” replied Altschuler. “We’re in uncharted territory. Anything is possible.”
“Did Gray keep accurate records?” said Megan.
“Yes. Say what you want about him, but he was a brilliant scientist.”
“We need to delete them from his computer,” said Hall. “Can you do that?”
Altschuler thought about this. “Yes,” he said. “But we should keep a copy for our own use. It would help us unravel what happened to you, and make sure it never happens again. And it may lead us to a way to reverse your ability.”
Hall thought about this for a moment and then nodded his agreement.
“What about our imminent problem?” said Megan. “The press conference?”
“If the web surfing and ESP effects of the implants are separable,” said Altschuler, “we’re in good shape. If not, we’re screwed.”
“So we have to hope that Nick’s ESP is a result of months of experimentation rather than their current configuration,” said Megan.
“Right,” said Altschuler. “No one else being fitted for these implants will ever have them take the same path they took through Nick’s brain. Now that we know the correct placement, they’d be placed there and we’d be done with it.”
“So how do we find out which possibility is correct?” said Megan. “Computer simulation? Animal models?”
Altschuler frowned deeply. “No good. Not for this. We’d need to set the implants in another human subject. If he or she develops ESP, we’re screwed, like I said. If he or she can surf the web, but can’t read minds, we still can’t be sure we’re in the clear—not with an ‘n’ equal to one—but at least it will make us a lot more comfortable.”
After a few seconds of silence, the computer scientist issued a heavy sigh. “I’ll volunteer,” he said.
40
Both Megan and Hall stared at Altschuler in shock.
“I’ll volunteer,” he repeated. “It’s our only option if we want to still go forward with disclosure. Or avoid having an ugly battle with Cameron Fyfe over this.”
“But even if you’re only experimenting on yourself,” said Megan, “isn’t this still illegal?”
“Let’s just say that, like Nick’s ESP, we’d keep this our secret. The world will know about Kelvin Gray’s experimentation on unwilling victims, but not about this. So if it does give me the ability to surf the web with my thoughts, as we expect, I won’t let on.”
Altschuler removed his glasses and began cleaning them on his shirt. For once, not because he was nervous, but because they needed cleaning.
“Now that I think about it,” he continued, “this experiment is critical. And not just for the reasons we’ve been discussing. For all we know, Nick is unique, and the current configuration will only work on him. For ESP or the Internet. So fitting me for implants does two things. It provides a confirmation that the placement of Nick’s implants, and his subsequent web surfing abilities, can be duplicated in others. And it helps us determine if ESP and web surfing are separable effects.”
“If they aren’t separable,” Hall pointed out, “you’ll be cursed as well. Cursed with learning what people really think about you and each other. Cursed to end up a pariah. And cursed with hearing non-stop voices in your head, and slight echoes whenever anyone speaks.”
“I’m willing to take that chance,” said Altschuler, slipping his glasses back on. “And it will only be temporary in my case, anyway. Since I’ll have virtually no damage to my brain, it will be safe for me to reverse the implants. But I can assure you, Nick, no matter what, we’ll find a way to cure you of your psionic ability.”
Hall glanced at Megan, but her expression was difficult for him to read. He turned back to Altschuler. “If you did this, could we know where we stand before Tuesday morning?”
“Yes. We’d need to get started immediately and work through the night, though.”
Altschuler told them about the equipment Gray had hidden in Theia’s Madera facility. While the robotic device Gray had used could be programmed to place implants at precise coordinates in the brain, a human surgeon was required to make the initial incision and guide the procedure.
“How did Gray do it?” asked Megan.
“About a year ago, he spent several months getting trained to do animal surgeries in our labs. Said he wanted to be more hands-on.” Altschuler frowned deeply. “I guess now we know the real reason he wanted to acquire these skills.”
“So where does that leave us?” asked Hall.
“I have an expert in mind,” said Altschuler. “A woman named Heather Zambrana. She’s done animal surgeries in the pharmaceutical business for years. One of five people on our team who position implants in animal brains. I trust her more than anyone in the company. And she’s single, so she won’t have to hide our little cabal from a husband.”
Hall could read that Altschuler had long had a romantic interest in Heather Zambrana as well, which he hadn’t acted on because she reported to him. Altschuler found her shy, bright, and attractive, although he was convinced the hardcore geek in her led her to hide her physical appeal rather than
spend any effort on hair, makeup, or clothing that would reveal or enhance it. Hall didn’t care if he had a crush on her, as long as this didn’t color his assessment of her trustworthiness. After a little more fishing in Altshculer’s mind, Hall became convinced that it hadn’t.
“So your recommendation is to let this Heather into our exclusive club?” said Hall.
“Yes.”
“And there’s no other way?” asked Megan.
Altschuler shook his head. “I’m afraid not,” he replied. “But there isn’t much to worry about. Not when we have a mind reader in our group. As much as I hate to suggest it, we can use Nick here to verify my opinion of her trustworthiness. We can drive by her condo and he can read her. If it turns out she’s unethical, can’t keep a secret, or,” Altschuler added with a grin, “has always longed for the day when she could announce the existence of working ESP to the world, then we can choose someone else.”
Hall laughed. “Sounds like a good plan.”
“If she does pass the test, Nick, I’ll need you for two other things,” said Altschuler.
“Go on.”
“First, you’ll need to demonstrate your ESP to her. Without that, she’ll never believe it.”
“Very true,” said Hall. “I barely believe it. And I’m the one who has it.”
“Also, I’ll want to scan your brain using the ultra-high-resolution MRI at our main facility. I need to confirm Kelvin’s data as to the final positioning of your implants. Hate to find out after my procedure that he entered a wrong digit, and end up with impaired brain function.”
Hall nodded soberly. This was a good point.
Hall read the computer scientist was ready to leave. Before they did, he needed to remind Altschuler of a tactical issue he had forgotten. He had already read from Altschuler’s mind that he had come up with several security precautions all on his own. Cowan had been confident that Delamater had lost them after their trick with the credit card at the Bakersfield train station. But Altschuler hadn’t wanted to take any chances, especially since people who entered Hall’s sphere, like Megan Emerson, had also become targets.
It had been Altschuler’s idea to have Cowan secure the suite, even before he had been sure he could lure Hall back to Fresno. And he had asked Cowan to rent a car, which couldn’t be traced back to him, and leave it in the Homestead parking lot. With the keys inside. And there had been one other item as well.
“Alex, before we charge out of here,” began Hall. “Given that we’ve agreed that only the three of us, and soon Heather, can know about this little operation, don’t you think we should be sure to avoid our . . . neighbors.”
Altschuler’s face was blank for a moment, until he remembered the security next door. “Very good point,” he said appreciatively. Then, with an accusing look, he added, “I thought you weren’t going to read my mind from here on out.”
“Well, I can’t help reading some thoughts. I mostly meant I’d try to keep it clinical. Avoid probing for anything that might be sensitive. But the truth is I read about your ideas for security when we first got here,” explained Hall.
“Does anyone want to fill me in?” said Megan.
“Sorry,” said Hall. “Alex asked Ed Cowan to post a two-man security detail in the bungalow next door if we agreed to come to Fresno with him. He didn’t mention it because he didn’t want to freak us out.”
“And they’re in place now?” asked Megan.
“Yes. I read them when we arrived. They’re very dangerous men. Cowan told them to watch us and make sure we aren’t hurt, but that he doesn’t really expect any trouble, so not to be too commando about it.”
“Do you think we can get out of here without them knowing it?” asked Altschuler.
“Fairly sure,” replied Hall. “I can read them to choose the timing. We’ll go on my signal, through the patio. If we’re on the quick and quiet side, we should be okay.”
Hall paused in thought. “So after we recruit this Heather and you scan my brain, then what? We go straight to your Madera lab for the procedure?”
“Right. But no need for you come with us at that point. Assuming I can surf the web, but I can’t read minds, we’ll still want to have the press conference. So I’ll drop you back here so you can start preparing a tight presentation we can film before Tuesday. You’ll want to get across what happened to you. And figure out the most compelling way to demonstrate your miraculous web surfing capabilities. This will take some creativity.”
“And what if the implants do give you psionic abilities?” said Hall.
“Then we destroy all the data—except where it applies to vision and hearing. And we’ll never disclose the success of the program. If anyone ever suggests it was successful, we’ll deny it adamantly.”
“This is like being in some kind of insane, alternate reality,” pointed out Megan. “I mean, listen to you. You’re talking about the fricking cure for fricking deafness and blindness like it’s a consolation prize.” She smiled from ear to ear. “I mean, how awesome is just that? There aren’t even any words for it. It’ll go down in history as perhaps the greatest achievement of all time. If there wasn’t any taint to the technology, they’d create a special Nobel Prize just for you, Alex. They’d rename a fricking state after Theia Labs.”
Altschuler grinned. “No truer words have ever been spoken. I was thinking through these problems like they were mathematical equations. Thank you for reminding me of the human aspect to all this. We’ll truly be bringing a miracle to the world, no matter what.”
“So worst case,” noted Megan, “Cameron Fyfe is disappointed because he can’t have his entire cake and eat it too.”
“You’re absolutely right,” said Altschuler. “If Nick comes to trust him enough to tell him why we’ve pulled back on the Internet aspect—assuming this even becomes necessary—that’s great. But if not, who cares? He’ll just have to settle for becoming one of the wealthiest and most beloved men on earth. With the data destroyed and Hall not coming forward, there won’t be anything he can do about it.”
41
Megan Emerson waited in the suite, idly flipping through TV channels without finding anything she could focus on, waiting to hear from Nick Hall. Finally, almost ninety minutes after they had left, he called her on his disposable cell phone, since Heather Zambrana’s condo and Theia Labs were both out of range of their telepathy.
Apparently, Hall’s mind reading had shown Heather to be just as trustworthy as Altschuler said she would be, and they had brought her up to speed. She was now fully on board. He told Megan the three of them were now on their way to Theia Labs so he could have his brain scanned. He was driving the rental, and Heather and Alex were taking Heather’s car. This way, Hall could return to the hotel later while Altschuler and Heather continued on to the Madera facility for the procedure.
Feeling better after hearing from him, Megan took a long, hot shower, which was truly a slice of heaven, and re-bandaged her thigh. It was coming along beautifully. In a day or two, she decided, she’d be willing to risk actual sex with a man with whom she was rapidly becoming infatuated.
She settled in to watch a long romantic comedy on pay-per-view, and before she knew it, the movie was at its end, and the inevitable misunderstandings between the two romantic leads were finally being cleared up, allowing true love to blossom.
Megan caught motion at the edge of her field of vision.
It was the door. Swinging open!
Before it had completed its arc, a man with light blond hair slid inside the room and drew a gun, raising it to a firing position in front of him. Megan instinctively threw herself from the couch as a silenced projectile whistled by her ear.
The man was trying to kill her.
A specialized electronic device had been shoved into the door’s keycard mechanism, no doubt to emulate a key, and the gunman disengaged the device and slipped it into his pocket. The assailant was lean and his motions were calm and practiced; professional. The level of
competence and sophistication of the attack reeked of John Delamater. If she had been on the other side of the couch, the opening door wouldn’t have been in her line of vision, and she’d be dead already.
Not that it mattered. She had only bought a few additional seconds of life. She was now on the floor—a sitting duck—and her visitor would not miss again.
The man reached for the door and gently pulled it closed behind him with one hand while raising the gun once again with the other. But just as he was pulling the trigger, a silenced shot from outside ripped through the door and into his arm, causing his aim to be off.
The man didn’t miss a beat, despite having been shot. Ignoring both his arm and Megan Emerson, he dived against one wall and out of the line of fire as two more silenced bullets punched though the door.
“Need reinforcements,” he hissed into an unseen microphone. “I’m inside Hall’s suite. One or more hostiles are outside the front door. Hurry!”
All the drapes to the room were already closed, but just as Megan’s assailant said his final word a bullet crashed through the outside wall of the bungalow, missing him by less than a foot. He rolled past the splintered door and into a standing position behind it, drawing a second gun and lying in wait for anyone who tried to enter.
Megan jolted awake. What was she doing? Why was she acting like a spectator in this drama? Now was her chance.
She stayed low to the floor and crawled for almost ten feet, sliding open the door to the suite’s small patio and rushing through. She rose to a crouching position and hastily surveyed the area. While the walking paths between suites were relatively well lighted, it was a cloudy, moonless night, and much of the sprawling complex was too shrouded in darkness for her to be certain another gunman wasn’t lying in wait.
It didn’t matter. She had no choice. She laid her torso on the flat upper beam of the short, decorative wrought iron fence that surrounded the patio and swung her legs to the other side.
Just as she stood she heard an explosion of sound from within the suite as the door was kicked open by her protectors, who must have been the two bodyguards Ed Cowan had stationed next door. Her racing heart quickened even further as she rushed across the lighted pathways and into the darkness, as quickly and quietly as a cat.
Mind's Eye Page 24
