The Genesis Code

by Lisa von Biela

  Maria glanced sharply at Tyler. “Were there problems with Simmons? I thought we had a story for him.”

  Tyler faced her. “I used the story we agreed on, but in the end I had to ad lib a little to get him to accept the device willingly. I’d say we barely pulled it off. I doubt the same approach would work with Weston now, because we’re further away from when we did his physical. That story wouldn’t hold water at all.”

  “How about ‘it’s the procedure or his job’?” asked Simon.

  “And if he chooses to walk, then he leaves with at least some knowledge of the device, and we have the potential for a leak.” Maria shook her head. “Not acceptable.”

  “You’re right, of course. We’ll use a story with him. We just have to come up with a compelling one,” said Simon.

  “If it’s this much trouble to perform the procedure on a one-off basis, is it practical to even consider rolling this out in any kind of volume?” Cline sounded whiny.

  “That might actually be easier than the one-offs. I have an idea to run past you and especially Josh. But before we roll it out in any volume, I want to see Genesis piloted in at least one more person, perhaps several.” Simon turned to Reyes. “Jeff, you’re meeting with Weston tomorrow. You said he looked highly stressed earlier today. Can you try to capitalize on that to get him to make an appointment with Josh?”

  “Yes, I can do that.”

  “If you can get him to make an appointment, I’ll make sure he gets the implant,” said Tyler.

  The others all glanced at Tyler. Cline started to open his mouth, then shut it. Tyler did not expand on his comment.

  Simon wondered what Tyler was planning, but decided silence was best on the point. “Good. Keep me posted. Just make sure there are no leaks. Now, assuming our pilot results continue to look good, we need to consider how to roll this out in volume,” said Simon.

  “What’re you thinking?” Maria leaned forward, her green eyes glittering.

  “Human-implanted chips are already in mainstream use: identification, medical records, micro-currency, security. I’m thinking of taking advantage of that by piggybacking onto the sort of chip that grants access to smart buildings. We could install such a security system, and roll out the security chips as part of the implementation,” said Simon. “Josh, here’s the question for you. Can you either implant Genesis along with such a chip, or customize such chips with Genesis’ functionality?”

  “I’ll take a look at that. If I can work out the details, that’s a great way to get past the problem of objections, though I still need to look at how quickly I could produce enough devices.”

  “No small expense for the security system, but it does make the perfect cover. And OneMarket is known as a high-tech firm, so it’s natural we’d go to a high-tech security system. Excellent idea, Simon.” Maria smiled.

  “Thanks, Maria. Josh, let me know the feasibility of piggybacking the devices as soon as you can, so we can see what our options are. Meanwhile, let’s move on Weston in the next few days,” said Simon. He sat back in his chair, pleased with his investment so far.

  CHAPTER 23

  Mark sat uncomfortably in Reyes’ office, shuffling the pages of his woefully incomplete project plan in his lap. The sheets shivered in time with the coffee tremors in his hands. He tried to still his hands, but they refused to obey.

  Reyes sat at his desk, silently reviewing his copy, his eyebrows forming a disapproving scowl.

  Mark was ashamed to present such an incomplete plan. He knew Reyes would rip it to shreds, but it was all he’d had the time—and energy—to come up with before the meeting. He’d spent countless hours working on it in his cube, but the result looked like something he’d slapped together in fifteen minutes. He just couldn’t seem to focus, to pull together all the steps he needed, let alone assemble them in a timeline, with critical paths identified.

  He hadn’t had a single decent night’s sleep in the last couple of weeks. Sheila had kept a cold distance, and when he did fall asleep, his dreams were replays of his work day, but with some ominously disastrous ending. He routinely woke up sweating, his heart pounding.

  “This is shit.”

  Mark lurched out of his daydream to find Reyes glaring at him.

  “I know Terry had you helping on some of the diagnostics, but you knew about this assignment for two weeks now. And this is as far as you’ve gotten?”

  “I just…” Mark stopped, wrestling with himself on how much to say. He could try to put on the brave OneMarket I can do everything front. That would be the expected behavior. But the evidence that he couldn’t do everything was clutched in Reyes’ angry hand. Or he could tell the truth: that he didn’t quite know how best to approach the plan; that he was simply worn out; that he was afraid he was staring failure in the face for the first time in his career.

  “You just what? How can you have gone two weeks and only gotten this far?” Reyes waved the pathetically slim plan around in the air. “We don’t have two weeks slack to play with! You’ve put us dangerously behind on being able to execute on the Venezuela contract, and you didn’t bother to say anything about it?”

  Mark bowed his head. He was utterly screwed anyway; he might as well tell Reyes the truth. He knew he could not catch up on his own. “I’m…behind. I’ve tried to keep up, but I’ve fallen behind. I can’t sleep, can’t concentrate. I’ve tried…” He covered his face with a trembling hand.

  Reyes lightened his tone. “I wish you’d told me sooner. Mark, up until now you’ve done excellent work, especially for someone relatively new to the firm. Sometimes, people here need a little help. If the stress is ruining your sleep, no wonder you’re tired and overwhelmed.”

  Mark looked at Reyes, stunned at the turnaround in his tone. He looked genuinely concerned, the scowl gone. Was it just an act to get him to say more and really hang himself?

  Reyes continued. “Tell you what. I’ll take a cut at the overall structure myself, then I’ll pass it to Terry to boost some of the detail. Then let’s meet again and re-evaluate the situation. Meanwhile, I urge you to see the doctor here. He can probably prescribe something to help you sleep.”

  “Uh…sure. That sounds great. Thank you.” Mark got up and left before his luck ran out. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t been fired on the spot. He probably should have scheduled a follow-up meeting with Toni Hanson before it got to this point; he just wasn’t sure what she could do about his problem.

  As he headed back to his desk, he decided under the circumstances he’d better play ball with Reyes and make the most of this reprieve. He wasn’t wild about seeing a doctor for sleeping aids, but then again, he’d never felt so deeply exhausted. If Reyes and Terry shaped up the plan, he’d better be ready to pick it up from there and get the job done. Or he could be certain Reyes would have no mercy.

  CHAPTER 24

  Evan Cleary sat in his office, scouring the Web for any information on NeurTech. He’d been at it for over an hour, trying one search engine after another, using different combinations of keywords. His muscles ached from clenching in the same position for so long. Nothing. Like it never existed.

  He tried a search on “Josh Tyler.” Two pages of results came up, many of them references for some motivational speaker by the same name. He scrolled along, trying to find one that could be for the right Tyler.

  A quick knock, then his office door opened. Tyler strode in, wearing his white coat and name tag. A stethoscope hung from his neck. “Busy?”

  Evan closed the browser and hastily rearranged some papers on his desk, irritated at the intrusion but relieved Tyler didn’t catch a glimpse of his computer screen. “A bit. What is it?”

  “Our second recipient is waiting in Room 2. I need you to assist.”

  “Why? Is it really a two-person job?”

  “I suspect he’ll need some convincing, perhaps more so than Simmons. Your presence will help, and you can get the instrument tray when I’m ready.”

  “You say
he’s there right now? I’m kind of in the middle of something.” Evan didn’t want to mire himself deeper into culpability by assisting Tyler again, but he also wanted to avoid a direct confrontation on the matter.

  Tyler lingered in the doorway with his arms folded across his chest. “This is Harris’ number one priority.”

  His tone implied Evan could be led around by his paycheck. The truth of it stung, but he suppressed a retort. Tyler didn’t appear willing to take no for an answer. “All right,” Evan mumbled as he rose from his chair.

  “Here’s how it’s going to work.” Tyler spoke in a low tone as they stood just outside the exam room. “I’ll do all the talking. You just stand there for support. You know, the white coat air of authority thing. I’ll tell you when to get the tray. It’s in the cupboard over the sink.”

  Evan nodded, his lips clamped shut. Tyler’s justification for needing him didn’t feel right, but he couldn’t pinpoint what bothered him about it.

  Tyler knocked and announced them before opening the door. As they stepped into the room, Evan saw Weston sitting on the exam table, dressed in khakis and a dark green polo shirt. He barely resembled the healthy, albeit slightly fatigued, young man he’d examined a few weeks ago. His skin was pale, his eyes weary, his bearing looked like a great weight pressed him down.

  “Hello, Mark. You say you’re having trouble sleeping?” asked Tyler as he approached the exam table.

  “Yeah. Just for the past couple of weeks.” He added in a defensive tone, “Normally, I sleep very well.”

  “Do you think there’s something specific triggering this, or did it just come upon you?” Tyler stood next to Weston, looking down at him, observing but not yet examining.

  “I’m not sure. I did get a new assignment around then. I’ve been really busy.” Weston sighed, slumping a bit more.

  “Sometimes the stress can trigger these bouts of insomnia. I take it the lack of sleep is starting to affect you.” Tyler clasped Weston’s wrist and took his pulse.

  “It’s been hard keeping up with work,” Weston said softly.

  “Of course. And that’s how these things become vicious cycles. You’re tired, you work less efficiently. You fall behind, get more stressed, sleep less. We can break that cycle for you.” Tyler spoke in soothing, sympathetic tones Evan hadn’t thought him capable of.

  Weston glanced up, worried furrows appearing on his forehead. “I’m not keen on the idea of sleeping pills.”

  “Don’t worry. We wouldn’t put you on them long term. Let me check a few things first. I’m going to slip my stethoscope under your shirt now, so I can check your heart and lungs. Breathe in, please.”

  Weston dutifully did as he was told and stared ahead blankly as Tyler pressed the end of the stethoscope to the front of his chest.

  Evan remained standing near the closed exam room door. Weston was so worn down, he seemed only able to focus on Tyler and did not seem to notice him.

  Tyler stepped slightly behind Weston to evaluate his lungs. He pressed the stethoscope’s diaphragm against his back. “Breathe in. Hold it. Breathe out. Again.”

  Weston complied with the directions, and Evan again wondered why he was there and where Tyler was going with the sleeping pill story.

  “OK, breathe in one more time.” As Weston inhaled, head bowed, Tyler thrust his hand into his lab coat pocket and pulled out a syringe. Before Evan could react, he jabbed the needle into Weston’s triceps from behind.

  “Ouch!” He jerked his head toward the injection site. “What did you do?”

  Tyler pressed his hands onto Weston’s shoulders as he struggled to get off the exam table. “Sit down. You’ll be fine.”

  “What was that? What did you do to me?” Weston’s eyes widened. He didn’t appear to be fighting to stand anymore.

  Evan was stunned, everything was happening so fast. But what was happening?

  Weston weakly thrashed his arms and legs as Tyler leaned him back, pushing him flat onto the exam table. “What…” his voice became indistinct as torpor overtook him.

  “Get the tray.”

  Evan hesitated. He desperately wanted to ask what was going on, but was afraid of what Weston might pick up—and take to a lawyer or the police.

  Tyler turned to him. “Get it now. The ketamine won’t last forever.”

  Brilliant bastard. Stick him like a lab animal, dispense with the niceties of getting permission for the procedure. Now he understood why Tyler had insisted on having him there. In case Weston reacted adversely to the ketamine, he’d have an extra pair of hands to help.

  And, he’d effectively drawn him in as an accessory.

  Evan took the tray from the cupboard and moved toward Tyler. The few steps seemed like a mile, as if he were walking through wet cement. Or through the sticky remnants of his conscience.

  Weston lay on the exam table, limbs loose, glazed eyes staring out at nothing in particular. His respirations seemed fine. At least he was tolerating the drug, though he’d probably have a nice batch of nightmares that night.

  Evan held the gleaming stainless steel tray for Tyler. A syringe of local anesthetic, a scalpel, a small stack of gauze sponges, dermal adhesive, and the Genesis device were arranged on it.

  Tyler gently turned Weston’s head, then injected lidocaine into the area behind his left ear. After waiting a few moments for the local to take effect, he deftly implanted the device and applied the liquid sutures so no trace of the procedure would remain.

  “Put it back in the cupboard.”

  Evan did as he was told, then remained near the sink, morbidly waiting to see what would happen next.

  After several minutes, Tyler began chafing Weston’s hand and gently patting his cheeks, as if he’d just passed out. “Mark? You OK?”

  Weston spoke groggily, “What happened?”

  “You passed out. It’s a good thing you came in. The insomnia has really gotten to you. I’m going to prescribe a mild sleeping pill—just for a week—to get you through this. You need your rest. Here, let’s see if you can sit up.” Tyler helped Weston to a sitting position.

  “Oh, I’m still a little dizzy.” Weston wobbled and held a hand to his forehead.

  “OK, we’ll have a nurse come in and sit with you until you’re ready to get up. I’ll have your prescription waiting.” Tyler helped Weston lie down again, then pressed the call button on the wall to signal for a nurse.

  A knock sounded on the door a few moments later. Evan let the nurse in. She waited with a questioning look on her face. “Yes?”

  Tyler smiled. “Mr. Weston fainted during his exam. He’ll be fine. Just needs someone to sit with him until he’s able to get up and go. I need to get his prescription ready.”

  The nurse went over to the exam table to monitor Weston and make sure he didn’t roll off the table. He looked up at her, then closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead with one hand.

  Evan left the room with Tyler. As soon as they were alone in the pharmacy area, he whispered, “Why did you do that?”

  “You mean the ketamine? Simple IM injection, no need to find a vein. Takes effect quickly, and it’s short-acting. Makes him just cooperative enough, without putting him fully under.”

  “That’s not what I meant. How could you inject him without consent?”

  Tyler glared at him. “Did you have any better suggestions? You saw how we barely got Simmons to accept the device. I didn’t think a fake story would work with this one, and he couldn’t leave without the implant.”

  “But he’s liable to find a lawyer when he realizes!”

  “That won’t happen. I programmed his device so he won’t remember the procedure. Worked with Simmons. He’ll think he fainted, he’ll get his sleeping pills, he’ll get his rest. And he won’t have a clue.” Evan watched silently as Tyler prepared Weston’s zolpidem prescription. He appeared completely undisturbed by what he’d done. How far would he go?

  As he stuck the label onto the prescription vial, Tyler s
aid, “Don’t worry. It’ll get easier.” He smiled.

  “What do you mean?” The day forced procedures get “easier” is the day I’d better burn my medical license. “I met with Harris the other day. Weston here is just a continuation of the pilot phase. If he works out as well as Simmons—and I’m sure he will—we’ll soon be busy planning the mass rollout.”

  Evan wondered if it was a bluff, something Tyler was making up to gauge his reaction. “What do you mean? How can these procedures be done in any real volume? You can’t just blow-dart everyone with ketamine.”

  Tyler frowned. “Certainly not. Sooner or later, someone would have a reaction, and there’d be trouble. No, Harris came up with a great idea that eliminates the issue of consent.”

  “What would that be?”

  Tyler inclined his head as he seemed to consider his next statement. “I’m looking into some technical issues first, before any plans are finalized. You’ll find out soon enough.”

  Evan struggled to form a response. “But only two people have received the device so far—and not for that long. Realistically, we don’t know anything about side effects, and he’s already planning a rollout?”

  “We’ll probably implant several others before the pilot is considered complete. In the meantime, I’ll keep an eye on Simmons and Weston and any other early recipients while we work out the details of a full rollout. There’ll be time to monitor for side effects.”

  Evan’s throat felt painfully dry as he considered the implications. The entire population of employees tricked into receiving a chip capable of forcing information into their minds. Downloading technical information specific to their jobs was one thing, but how long would it be before less benign uses came along? Mind control, behavioral adjustments, attitude shifts. If Harris didn’t mandate them, he was sure Tyler would test them out in his newfound pool of human lab subjects.

  No consent required.

  CHAPTER 25