The Professor looked up from the scrolling numbers. "No, no, that's fine for today. Besides, I need to drop off some notes I've been working on for CJ at the interface lab."
"Oh, I can do that for you Professor," offered Warrick. "I'm heading past there on my way to Security. My RFID chip has been acting up. Just need to get it checked."
"Oh, well I was hoping to go over some suggestions with CJ about one or two of his interface trials. We haven't been able to line up our schedules recently."
"It wouldn't be a problem at all, Professor. Like I said, it's on my way. I'll go and load these updates to the lab server and then head over there." Warrick reached out and took the mini-drive from the Professor's desk. He started to walk out of the office and then turned back.
"I know Jameson has been busy with a new interface iteration. I'm sure you two will find some time to chat soon." Warrick smiled and then left the office.
He went to the office next to the Professor's and sat down at his terminal. He loaded the mini-drive and called up the files. He scanned through them quickly, previewing some and skipping others. He bundled the files and called up his encrypted mail server. He attached the files with some simple instructions and sent the message. A few seconds later a message was returned. Warrick read the message, deleted it, and then set the server to scrub his recent activity. He hid the server app and then locked his terminal. Warrick rose from his desk, picked up his tablet, and proceeded out of his office.
He walked through the work area to the secure exit door. Exiting the lab, he took the quickest route possible to a short hallway off to the side of the interface lab. Two secured doors, a security post, and an elevator ride later Warrick walked into the boardroom.
"You're late!" barked the old man.
"My apologies, sir," started Warrick. He then cleared his throat and spoke in a much deeper tone. "I was smoke screening Jameson's lack of availability."
"Still trying to foster that relationship, is he? Well, continue your efforts. The work in the Interface Lab is too close to Thurman's. We need the Professor isolated from it for a while longer." The old man shifted in his leather chair. The floating heads on the monitors grumbled their agreement. "Just the same, we may need to review our social isolation efforts."
"Of course, sir. Shall I continue with my update?" asked Warrick.
"That is why you are here, Warrick," said Kingston from behind the old man's chair.
Warrick glared at Kinston and then addressed the other members of the board sitting in the darkened room.
"The progress in the lab over the last period has exceeded our projections in all categories. At this rate, we will be able to start feeding the Interface Lab data in four or five more cycles, which is two periods ahead of schedule. I will coordinate with Jameson to make sure his lab will be on-line and ready to receive the data earlier than planned."
"And what of the other related experiments in the wing. Is the isolation plan working?" asked a floating head.
"It is," replied Warrick, "aside from the close call on his first day." Warrick stared at Kingston. "The secured lab has been apprised of the Professor's movements throughout the wing using his RFID locator. They are adhering to the no-contact policy quite well."
"Speaking of no contact, Jameson is behaving himself, isn't he?" asked the old man.
"Yes he is. The Professor had worked on some suggested updates for the Interface Lab and was going to walk them over, but I intercepted them before I came here. I sent them to the isolation team and they are currently working on drafting a response from Jameson. They will brief him on the surrogate contact. Aside from these infrequent attempts to interact on the Professor's part, Jameson has adhered to the no contact policy. Personally, I think the Professor was taken by the Interface Lab's research and nothing more. I believe he is trying to be friendly and social."
"Well, it's a good thing you aren't paid to think," retorted Kingston. "What you haven't noticed," continued Kingston as he read Warrick's confusion, "is that Ms. Green has recorded no less than twelve attempts by the Professor to visit Jameson in his lab. If that's the Professor trying to be friendly, then our reconnaissance team needs to be terminated. The Professor is normally consumed by his work and previously had very few professional associations, and almost no social ones that we were aware of. This effort to form a relationship with Jameson has me, for one, concerned. One false move and we have a serious liability on our hands."
"Well put, Kingston," commented the old man. "I want a full review of the isolation team's protocols to ensure we keep the good Professor where he needs to be: in his lab making MESA very wealthy."
"Of course sir, I'll have that review scheduled immediately," said Warrick. He tapped out a few commands on his tablet and then returned his attention to the board.
"As for the progress on the equation, the Professor has made some very intriguing insights. The interval iterations are progressing faster than projected and he believes he is close to starting work on the element trials as soon as the week after next."
"And has he made any indication that he recognizes any of the work from his early experiments?" asked another floating head.
"No sir, I don't believe so," answered Warrick. "While his early work was the foundation for our work here, we have not only surpassed his expectations but, by ultimately using the Interface Lab as the end game, we've taken his work in a direction that he could not have even dreamed of. I understand the need to keep the Professor in the dark about what he is working towards, but I am still pleased at the progress we are making despite the inconvenience of indirect application."
"That's all wonderful news," remarked the old man. "If we can get that equation built, Jameson's progress in the Interface Lab will skyrocket. Gentlemen, I believe we are closer than ever to being able to terminate the original prototype and proceed with our efforts on the second generation. Jameson's last report on Proto 2 showed promising acceptance of the latest round of coding trials." He turned to Warrick. "Anything else to report?"
Warrick looked uneasy. "There is one concern that may be approaching faster than anticipated. We are coming up on the physical trials. Since the Professor is the expert on Harmonicum, I wish to raise my concerns that the cover story explaining MESA's considerable quantity of Harmonicum may be insufficient to curtail his curiosity in the matter."
"Warrick, your clearance, let alone the Professor's, isn't high enough to even begin to discuss that," replied Kingston. "The original response is the best response. Simply tell him it's classified. Even you don't know where the resource comes from. And since you don't, you won't even have to lie."
Warrick again stared coldly at Kingston. "Very well. That is my update, ladies and gentlemen. I will file my report and return to the lab."
Warrick returned to the elevator and proceeded down.
The old man touched a spot on the table and the floating heads all returned to MESA logos. "Kingston, I told you not to aggravate the situation with your petty pissing match with Warrick. I need him at his best, not being reminded of his inferiority to you."
"Yes sir. I'll watch that," replied Kingston.
The old man stood and walked to the window, his hands folded behind his back.
"Where are we on the facility break in investigation? Heaven knows I've already spent a barge of credits to smoke screen the media. Please tell me you have good news."
Kingston called up a report on his screen. "Well, the scrub team has completed their trace and they have only been able to come up with partial results. The data servers were infected with a rage worm that tunneled through the security wall. That prevented a complete back up from being made before the alarms were triggered."
"Enough with the tech talk, Kingston." The old man turned from the window to stare at Kingston. "Do we have a lead on the lost project or not?"
Kingston slowly looked up from his tablet. "Yes, sir. We do."
***
Warrick continued down the hallway
towards the lab. He was fuming over Kingston's snide remarks about his security clearance. Just as he was concocting things he would say and do to Kingston if he ever had the chance, a screen flashed his name and a message icon bounded outwards. Warrick looked behind him and down the hallway and then came to the screen. He tapped a spot on the screen to silence the voice commands and responses. A keyboard floated towards him and he signed in. He first checked the proximity matrix. The nearest RFID beacon was three corridors over and moving away from him.
Next he signed into his encrypted email server and read the message. He fished out the mini-drive and held it against the small square on the terminal. A progress band rapidly filled as the contents of the drive were swapped with the information from the encrypted server. Once complete, Warrick pocketed the drive. He called up the swapped files and quickly searched through them. Most were replies and notes that appeared to come from Jameson. The isolation team had done quite well in masking their origin, and most even sounded like Jameson's style of writing. Warrick double-checked that Jameson had been informed of the counterfeit response.
He then logged in to the server's impersonation app and called up Jameson's mail. He drafted a quick note thanking the Professor for the suggestions and mentioning Jameson would get to them as soon as he could. He apologized for not being able to accept them in person as this new iteration was consuming all his time. He also mentioned that he had jotted down a few ideas for the Professor and had given them to Warrick. Warrick added a few more details, read through the message once more, and then sent it.
The proximity icon flashed as a tech exited a lab five doors down. Warrick cleared the activity, signed out of the server, and continued down the hallway towards the lab.
***
Ms. Green watched as the activity from the encrypted server flashed across her screen at the security command post. She sipped her rare and illegal jasmine tea, smuggled in as a result of the trade embargo, and observed as Warrick stared back at her on an adjacent screen. She didn't care for the little man at all. Small, scrawny looking, and not very well endowed with manly features, Ms. Green was actually slightly repulsed that she was forced to constantly watch the man. Her good taste prevailing, she darkened the camera behind the screen that Warrick was using. She could monitor his activity without having to stare at the ugly man's face.
She watched as he swapped out the files, drafted the fake message from Jameson, and then cleared his activity just as another tech was starting to come down the hallway. She glanced at the giant 3D map of MESA's entire grounds and saw a dot walking away from the terminal Warrick had just used and another dot approaching it in the same hallway.
Small dots all in various colors buzzed around the hologram. Some were in labs, others in offices, yet others in hallways. Some dots were even outside of the buildings. The entrance guard station had a few and so did the parking lot beyond MESA's perimeter fence, as did the restaurants and shops near the grounds.
From this map Ms. Green could identify, track, and record the movements of any employee, security officer, or visitor. She noticed the group of blue squares congregated in the main lobby. She checked her watch and then called up the lobby cams. She had almost completely forgotten about those wretched children on their field trip. She looked back at the map. The deep red dots of the security guards and the green dot of the public relations director were clearly visible amid the sea of forty or fifty blue squares. She had assigned one of the S&D commanders to escort the group. She quickly located him at the security station and flashed him a message to report to the main lobby.
She felt a sense of relief that she wouldn't have to deal with the snot-nosed kids. Secondary school or not, all kids were nothing but little brats. She was the head of security, so she had the power to delegate. It had come in handy so many times throughout her career at MESA. She supposed that this was the very reason she was so bitter about the Warrick assignment. Watching and tracking that unattractive man day in and day out, reviewing his messages and monitoring his communications, she hated all of it. Kingston would seriously owe her one.
She knew that the orders came from the old man, but this was Kingston's project. He was the one who suggested she take this on personally, as opposed to delegating it to one of her team members. Sometimes that man made her blood boil. He could be so infuriating… and that's what made him so appealing at the same time. Oh, he definitely owed her for this. Her eyes closed as she pictured Kingston. She could think of a number of ways that the man could repay her. After a brief moment of daydreaming, she opened her eyes.
The commander had reached the lobby and was doing his song and dance about security at MESA labs. The man was good at it, too. He looked like ex-military, and in fact was, which usually impressed the little kiddies. Something about a beefy man with facial scars seemed to add a little something to the tour. Ms. Green started to stare at the beefy man on the lobby cams and then noticed that she was biting her lower lip. No, she thought. "One man per day. You'll have to wait until tomorrow," she said as she tapped his image on the screen.
She looked back at the hallway where Warrick was and saw that he had reentered the Harmonics lab. He was sitting in his office as other colored dots moved around the lab. Next to him was a bright orange dot that marked the Professor. It was the only orange dot on the whole map.
***
The Professor read the note from CJ. Warrick had dropped off the mini-drive and had been in his office next-door ever since. The Professor scanned through the files looking for anything of interest. Some of the comments and notes were very insightful to the work the Professor was doing. He had implemented many of the previous suggestions CJ had sent him and the results had been very good. Other notes were very benign, helping the Professor understand the inner workings of MESA's systems and procedures. These too were helpful, but in a different way. The only downside of reading CJ's notes was that it only increased the Professor's desire to sit and chat with him about their work. He felt that they could accomplish so much more if they weren't reduced to this back and forth messaging.
That's why CJ's last line about being consumed by his latest iteration was so frustrating. Warrick had said the same thing earlier. Still, the Professor had his doubts. Something about the messages from CJ lately had been off. He couldn't quite tell why or how. The reality of it was that he had only met the man a small time ago, and their subsequent interactions had been limited and brief. Still, the Professor felt a connection between them, a budding synergy almost. He hoped that Jameson felt the same way.
Boxed In
Time: About one month after the attack at the shopping center
Scene: Academy Chem lab
"There's just something about you, isn't there?"
Sam sat alone in the chem lab, lounging at her table. It was lunchtime and she was starving, but she didn't want the company of her friends in the lunchroom. The small tin box sat on the table before her. She touched the cool surface. "I wish I could at least make sense of one thing in my life."
Involuntarily, Sam touched the place on her chest where less than a month ago she could have sworn she had been shot with some sort of projectile. The experience had not only left her with nightmares of Rob and his band of slavers, but also with visions of locked rooms and hospital beds, chains and wrist restraints, all accompanied by an overwhelming pain. She didn't know if the sensation was in her head or if it was real, but the ache festered within her, joining the myriad of questions that weighed heavily upon her mind. No answers were given or received. No relief could be found. She was left with the pain in her body and mind, and blood in her tears. Now that scared her.
On the night of the attack she had awoken to find herself in her own bed. Impossible. Comical even. There was absolutely no explanation for her waking up in bed, but she did, pj's and all.
The questions were starting to eat at her. The one thing anchoring her sanity was the fact that she didn't experience it alone. Cammie had been there,
had witnessed the events of the night, but even that connection was starting to feel hollow, like they were both hallucinating. Cammie's story was similar to hers, but with slight variations. Cammie awoke not in her bed, but in her bathtub, as weird as that sounded. Cammie didn't like to talk about the events or the weird aftermath, but Sam couldn't get it all out of her head, partly because of Cammie's unwillingness to discuss what had happened and partly because of her own real or perceived isolation. She sat and wondered contemplatively, alone in a room, asking herself the same question.
How had she and Cammie survived?
Those men, human traffickers that catered to the plantation owners of the Burning Plains, were trained professionals. Ex-military, if Cammie's information was to be believed. There isn't any reason that she and Cammie should be here today, and yet they were. They were here, alive and in one piece, like nothing had ever happened. And what about that security guard? Did he really save them? If so why not say something, get some sort of reward? It just didn't make any sense.
Harmonics: Rise of the Magician (Harmonics Series Season One) Page 14
