“The printer was functioning as I had designed it to. I manufactured a large batch of nanobots—mechanically functional, but not programmable.
“And then, I added one significant improvement: I replaced the existing printhead with a newer one.”
He paused for effect. “This new printhead extrudes the desired materials in much smaller amounts.”
I waited, holding my breath.
He watched for my reaction. “The new printhead prints,” he dragged out each word, “one ion at a time.”
“I’m sorry; come again?”
“My ion printhead allows me to print the nanomites one ion at a time. An ion is an atom or molecule with either a net positive or negative charge. The exactitude of such an approach is, without hyperbole, limitless. My nanomites,” he gestured toward the glass case, “were precision printed one atom at a time using my ion printhead. They are as perfect as the digital renderings.”
I was following, but it all seemed more than a little farfetched to me.
Dr. Bickel raised one brow and offered a knowing smile. “Do you recall the food replicator on Star Trek, The Next Generation? My breakthrough makes physical replication possible someday. Not today, but sometime in the near future. My 3D printer and its ion printhead is the first giant step toward molecular manufacturing and Tea. Earl Grey. Hot.”
I appreciated the Captain Picard reference but— “I don’t think I understand how a 3D printer could make them,” I pointed to the glass case shimmering not far from us and the things inside that had spelled out my name, “and make them seem so, so alive.”
“The printer built their circuitry and hardware, Gemma, all their moving pieces and their system chips together. As one. In a single process. Next came my algorithms. My algorithms, programmed onto their system chips, brought them to life, so to speak, and enabled them to function independently and interdependently.”
I nodded with what I hoped was appropriate reverence. “Then . . . this changes so much.” I was grasping at the implications, stunned by the immensity of Dr. Bickel’s developments.
“One more thing about their design, an elegant addition.”
Only one?
“Each nanomite is equipped with a common connection type—a nano-sized universal serial bus. This is a ‘group-technology’ breakthrough that allows tribe members to connect, to piggyback atop each other—much like Lego blocks snap together—to amplify their functionality.”
Perhaps I couldn’t grasp every future implication of his several breakthroughs, but I was starting to sense why Cushing and Prochanski were so hot to steal Dr. Bickel’s work—which brought on another slew of questions. “But you did all this in the AMEMS laboratory. You documented your work, your inventions. You reported all your findings to Dr. Prochanski who reported them to General Cushing, so—”
“Not quite, Gemma. They didn’t know quite all I’d done, nor did I give them access to all of my data before they made their move. Particularly, I did not give Cushing (via Prochanski) access to data on the ion printhead or my nanomites, and I’ll explain why soon. Let’s just say that what Cushing wanted and what she got were two different things.”
He laughed, tickled at his own cleverness, and I was struck once more at how shrewd Dr. Bickel was proving to be.
He stood up to pace, waving his arms as he talked. “So! So Prochanski and Cushing planned from the beginning to ‘requisition’ the nanomites and the printer—but I knew of their plans. To keep them ignorant of the ion printhead and to prevent them from taking the nanomites, I was forced to come up with some, er, creative, um, distractions. Pay close attention now, Gemma.
“In our staff meetings you heard me report on the nanobots. On your last day you heard Prochanski and Cushing plot to steal the nanobots and get rid of me.”
I nodded.
“From here forward, for the sake of clarity, you and I must distinguish between nanobots and nanomites. Because, you see, my dear girl, rather than my smart nanomites, the only bots I ever showed Cushing and Prochanski were my first, very crude nanoelectromechanical population—mere ‘dumb’ nanobots.
“As I said earlier, I printed the nanobots before I printed my population of nanomites. I printed the dumb nanobots using my last generation printhead. The nanobots possess no integrated circuitry: They cannot be programmed.
“Ah! But then I printed my nanomites using the ion printhead. Same printer—but very different 3D designs, employing two different printheads, and producing two very different outcomes.”
He breathed in triumph. “We kept the two populations together in a glass case in the AMEMS lab, a case just like the one you see here.”
“You hid the nanomites inside the case with the nanobots? You hid them in plain sight?”
“Yes, except, of course, one cannot see either population ‘in plain sight.’ Who was to say that two distinct populations coexisted, dumb nanobots and smart nanomites, or that the two populations were or were not within the glass case?”
He laughed, relishing his tale. “As I made progress with the nanomites, I attributed their headway to the nanobots. I presented Prochanski with solid data describing the nanobots’ makeup and abilities, their performance metrics, and their steep learning curve. In short, I attributed every glowing advance of my nanomites to the nanobots, and I attributed the manufacture of the nanobots to my printer—which was very true. My printer did, indeed, print the nanobots. However, I kept Prochanski and Cushing completely unaware of my ion printhead and the existence of my nanomites.”
I was stunned. “They believed the, er, dumb nanobots to be your smart, ‘integrated system’ mites and they intended to steal them,” I murmured, finally beginning to catch up with him.
“And steal them they did. Prochanski had them removed from the lab just prior to the incident. Remember how I ‘stepped out’ of the lab before the device detonated? I told Prochanski I was going to lunch and would return in an hour. He had men with a duplicate glass case standing by. They removed the case with the nanobots as soon as I left the lab, and substituted an empty case.”
His eyes glowed. “What Prochanski couldn’t have known was that I had, the night before, already removed my nanomites.”
“How? I mean, how were you able to separate the two populations?”
“I take your point; however, it wasn’t that difficult. I connected a flexible hose to two specially constructed carryalls and placed a signal device in each of the bags. The devices ‘called’ the nanomites. They flowed into the carryalls in response to my signal. The nanobots, obviously, had no capacity to respond to anything other than a set of limited, pre-programmed commands. They did not hear or respond to the signal.”
He frowned and then recalled where he’d left off. “As I said, I had removed my nanomites the night before. They were waiting for me in the two carryalls, locked in a subbasement closet, when I made my exit. I retrieved them and exited the building at the other end. To anyone who might have seen me, I was merely carrying two large briefcases.”
I could hardly breathe—the complexity of Dr. Bickel’s planning was astounding, and grew more so in the next part of his narrative.
“It took days for Cushing’s military investigators to definitively rule that my body was not found among the ruins of the lab. What do you think, Gemma? What do you think she thought when Prochanski died and she found that I had escaped, eh?
“Prochanski assured her that he had all my data—including the performance data on the nanobots. He assured her that he had copied and removed my data to a safe location. And he assured her that he had the nanobots. Prochanski and Cushing had military scientists standing by to take over after my ‘unfortunate demise,’ yes?”
I nodded; I thought I knew what was coming.
“How long do you think it was before she began to suspect she’d been made a fool of, hey? How long for her scientists to examine the nanobots, compare their abilities to the glowing reports I’d tendered, and conclude that the nanob
ots were not the devices I’d reported on?”
He slapped his leg. “Ha, ha! These are not the bots you are looking for!”
Dr. Bickel roared with laughter. I did not. I was imagining General Cushing’s black, bottomless eyes the moment she’d realized she’d been duped—and imagining it was bad enough. I wiped a shaking hand over my eyes.
Dr. Bickel tapped his chin. “Gemma, do you understand the nano-sized universal serial bus I described to you?”
I nodded again and made a little “uh-huh” sound in my throat. What else could I do?
“I told you how, at any time, members of a given tribe can piggyback with members of the same tribe to multiply their tribe’s functionality and strength, yes? And yet, while the five tribes vary in their software and hardware, every tribe’s hardware employs that same nanometer-scale universal serial bus. Universal, Gemma. And therein lies the power of this particular breakthrough.
“Any nanomite can, when needed, piggyback with a member of another tribe. This has two potential benefits: the ability to temporarily share roles which, theoretically, would temporarily increase the nanomites’ computational power to an exponential level. The computational power of their joined systems will boggle the mind.”
“Potentially? Theoretically?”
“Yes; I’m still exploring that realm of possibility.”
Nanoelectricalmechanical . . . smart nanomites . . . nano-sized universal serial bus . . . piggyback with members of another tribe . . . exponential level . . . realm of possibility . . .
If my head had whirled off my neck just then I don’t think Dr. Bickel would have noticed. He was too engrossed in his lecture. Fortunately for my spinning head, his lecture changed direction.
“Let me describe the tribes’ diverse roles and why, then, the bus becomes important,” he continued. “Some nanomites, for example, direct the collection, storage, and distribution of power for the nanocloud. The power management nanomites comprise what I call Beta Tribe.”
“Power? Because they need electricity, right? To, um, do whatever it is that they do?”
Dr. Bickel chuckled. “Power? But of course they need power, Gemma. The nanomites need power or they will fail. The beauty of my design, however, is that the nanocloud can utilize power from any source of electrical current, including direct and indirect sunlight and organic or living things.
“The mites will conserve energy when they need to,” Dr. Bickel added, “but, under pressing circumstances, they will employ whatever energy is available. Because their mechanical bodies contain the right mix of metals, the mites can generate power from citrus fruit if need be!”
Then he chuckled again and I demanded, “What’s so funny?”
“I was thinking of some of my early experiments in the AMEMS lab. In one of them I provided the nanomites with a selection of citrus fruits and cut off the flow of electricity to the glass case. Scouts from Beta Tribe immediately investigated the fruits. Within minutes, the tribe swarmed the fruits and began generating power through them.”
“From fruit?” I wasn’t buying it.
“Gemma, most living things—including human beings—generate electricity. Without electricity our brains could not ‘fire’ and our nervous system could not communicate with the brain.”
He shook his head as if he couldn’t understand how my education had overlooked this vital concept. Well, my studies of history and accounting hadn’t exactly concentrated on neuroscience.
“In a dire situation with no other power source, a single grapefruit could power a few of the mites for, say, an hour,” he informed me. “The rest would agree to enter sleep mode until another source became available.”
“What would happen if their power source was about to fail and they didn’t have another one?”
He seemed unconcerned. “I’m not certain, Gemma, but they are amazingly resourceful. I’m sure they would come up with something.”
He slipped his hands into his lab coat. “Now where were we? Oh, yes. Beta Tribe. Beta Tribe facilitates the appropriation and allocation of power. If necessary, the nanomites can pull power from whatever source is available to them. Every mite has its individual power storage capacity, of course, but Beta Tribe monitors, analyzes, and predicts need and suggests appropriate measures to optimize the cloud’s supply.”
“So some nanomites tell other nanomites what to do?”
“No. The nanocloud is not a dictatorship and no tribe has ‘authority’ or control over another. The nanomites are equally autonomous and decentralized: They are autonomous in that I do not control them, other than confining them to this case. They are decentralized in that they make decisions through tribal cooperation and consensus rather than via a central processing unit separate from them or hierarchically above them.
“Their decision-making is not hampered by human hubris or influenced by ego. The tribes report their findings to the other tribes and all the mites analyze the data. Then, through scenario-based decision trees, the mites prioritize possible actions and responses in terms of the nanocloud’s well-being. The tribes then reach a cooperatively achieved consensus, usually within seconds, but sometimes longer.”
Being naturally a glass-half-empty gal, I wondered how the nanomites “liked” being kept in a glass box. I wondered whether they might someday insist on being released “for the nanocloud’s well-being.” And should that “someday” arrive, I further wondered how Dr. Bickel would respond to the nanomites’ “cooperatively achieved consensus.”
I didn’t mention my wonderings, though. I simply changed the subject: “How do they fly like that?”
“Oh, they aren’t truly flying, at least not in the sense of birds or insects. They have no wings although each mite is aerodynamic in its shape. They navigate in a number of ways. In sunlight, they can use their mirrors to propel themselves short distances or—”
“They have mirrors?”
Dr. Bickel huffed, a little miffed that I’d interrupted. “Each mite has a tiny mirror that, when packed away, resembles a nano-sized slice of polished silicon. Those flashes and shimmers you see within the case? Those are their mirrors—which they employ for a number of purposes.
“This can be seen when, under the guidance of Beta Tribe, the nanomites deploy their mirrors in an optimal arrangement to take in power from solar rays. The nanocloud can then use the absorbed solar rays to power Delta Tribe’s lasers to—
“What? They have lasers, too?”
Dr. Bickel clucked his tongue. “Really, Gemma. It is proving difficult to provide you with a comprehensive overview of the nanomites when you insist on interrupting every five seconds.”
I raised one eyebrow. “Well, excuse me, Dr. Bickel, but I don’t have a Ph.D. in whatever it is that you have a Ph.D. in.”
I waved my hand in the direction of the nanocloud. “This—all of this—is completely new territory for me and, if you’ll forgive my saying so, your ‘comprehensive overview’ presumes a lot—like that I have a background in ‘nanophysics.’ Well, I don’t. You know very well that I studied history and accounting. I didn’t study science, thank you very much.”
He was taken aback at my longwinded outburst. Maybe I was, too. At work I had never spoken my mind so emphatically, with such vehemence.
No, at work I’d been the dutiful, shrinking wallflower.
“I-I, uh-uh—” He actually stammered. “I-I, ah, must apologize, Gemma. I probably, no, I do sound like a-a puffed-up old windbag, prating on like this.”
“Well . . .” I didn’t want to tell him I agreed but, in fact, I did.
“It was quite, no, it was very inconsiderate of me.” He looked down and ran a hand through his faded rusty hair. “I beg your pardon, Gemma.”
Good heavens.
He was crushed.
I sighed. His apology rather melted my heart, to tell the truth.
“You know, Dr. Bickel, I’m very, um, jazzed by everything you’re telling me, very engaged and intrigued in your many acc
omplishments.” I tried to be soft, conciliatory.
He perked up at this and looked hopeful.
“If you could take my lack of technical knowledge into account and be patient when I need a little clarification, I would love to hear more.”
He blinked and looked up at me, patently sorry.
I think, Dear Reader, that’s when I really started liking Dr. Bickel.
“Perhaps I could list the five tribes? Tell you of their functions?”
“That would be great,” I replied, “as long as I may occasionally ask questions. So I don’t get lost.”
“Yes, yes, of course. Thank you.” His enthusiasm returned. “Well, as I said, Gemma, five tribes. Alpha Tribe holds the nanocloud’s collective memories and learning. Think of them as being the library—the historians—of the nanocloud.”
He preened, gratified to have validated my field of study.
I sniffed. As if!
“Beta Tribe, as I’ve already mentioned, manages the nanocloud’s power needs. Gamma Tribe directs preventive and reparative maintenance—”
“I’m sorry—what kind of maintenance?”
He nodded and made an effort to be civil. “Maintenance is separated into two categories: work done on a regular basis to prevent equipment malfunction and work done to repair equipment malfunction.”
“Preventive—like regular oil changes, stuff like that?”
“Exactly like that. Gamma Tribe maintains the nanomites or repairs them when they break down. Each mite is fabricated with a small bit of extra material for them to create or develop nano-scale tools as needed; Gamma Tribe either makes the tools they need for repairs or directs other mites to make them.”
“Fascinating.” I smothered a smile as I envisioned yellow ‘mini-minions’ running around with tiny tool belts slung about their girths.
“Yes, quite. Then, to answer your question of a few minutes ago, members of Delta Tribe each have a tiny laser. Only Delta Tribe.”
“And they use their lasers to somehow propel the, uh, nanocloud, how?”
“Ah, yes. Delta Tribe aims their lasers at other nanomites’ mirrors in coordinated bursts, generating short, dynamic spurts of propulsion. By focusing their lasers on the leading edge of the mirrors, they push the nanocloud in that direction, much as solar sails might. Delta Tribe directs the placement of the mirrors for their lasers to propel the cloud where joint consensus has determined it to go.”
Stealthy Steps Page 14
