Maxwell Huxley's Demon

by Michael Conn

  Max has made progress . He has some rudimentary bots running in the lab. Right now , he ’s trying to direct the stupid labs to stop trying to solve specific problems with specific bots. He updates research abstracts and experiments so more work i s on generic nanotechnology. We need nanoBot s that build s nanoBots .

  “Walker, what kind of nanoBot would you make first?”

  “Cherry—Flavoured -Pez -Bot, why?”

  “How about a Ro-Bot?”

  “Is that like an Egyptian Bot?”

  “No, I think that’s a Ra-Bot, ” Max says. “I want a bot that flies, has a little lift and can alter its colour to any colour of the visible spectrum.”

  “OK fly boy, you fly . . . I want armour. I’m off to get food, see you in a bit.”

  Max sets more trolls running. He now has thirty-four fully staffed labs around the world working for him. Leaning back in his chair , he picks up his reader and waits for their best work to come to him. What’s going to happen when I need Virginia again? Max logs onto the platform and assigns a few trolls to work on image pr ocessing and image recognition.

  Walker returns with food.

  “Hey Walker, how many times have you gone to the bank machine since we’ve been here?”

  “Twice, why?”

  “We need to keep bank machine activity to a minimum. I had a thought and pulled some machine code from the old bank machines we were at. I found MGA hooks in the code. They’re trying to track us using the cash withdrawals. For now , just be careful what machines you use. Write yourself an algorithm that will lead them away from this p art of town . . . Did you ever get the credit cards?”

  “I’ll get them tomorrow,” Walker says as he looks at the code Max is writing. “Image processing? What for?”

  “I just think we’ll need it soon enough,” Max lies.

  Walker knows that Max never does anything without a good reason but lets it drop.

  Liar! Max turn s from Walker and digs his finger nails into a palm. I picture her face and hair.

  ---

  With their flight to Mexico City scheduled to land soon , Keith plays with a pack of nuts. Beside him, Sarah stares out the window of the private jet looking for all the world like she wishes she were anywhere but here. Hasting is asleep across from them , sno ring loudly, with his mouth open. Connor and Pirelli are having dinner further back in the plane .

  Keith tosses nuts one at a time at Hastings, trying to land one in his mouth. They let me out. They didn’t release me. I’m just as trapped here as I was back at school . I’m like a dog at the park with a shock collar on . Keith feels a pang of jealousy toward Max. Even if he’s not that good, at least he’s doing what he wants right now. If they had given me what he had , I’d be the one who is free right now. Max is weak. Afraid. Too squ eamish to do what needs doing .

  Keith lands a nut in Hasting s mouth; Hastings sputters, wakes, and spits the nut into Sarah’s lap. Keith smiles, closes his eyes , and plans revenge.

  Chapter 18 –Mexican Show-off

  A boy leans heavily on a cane and walks down a sidewalk in Mexico City near Tres Mosqueteros . This is not just a random sidewalk on a random street . Max researched this address soon after breaking out of the school. Do I hid e plans from people because I need to or because that’s who I am?

  People jostle Max on the busy sidewalk. Max doesn’t care; the longer he can be on this sidewalk in front of this particular building the better. Max looks up and spots three surveillance cameras, not attached to the building he is interested in , but they cover this whole section of street. Max limps to the corner , watching a constant stream of airplanes , on final approach , silently descend ing over the city . You’re an idiot, Max. He grab s the though t and flick s it away like a bug. You’re still an idiot . . . and you’re a liar . He dodge s the thoughts , but it’s too lat e , and he feel s his balance weaken.

  Max stands still for a minute, thankful that he has his cane for stability . His cell phone chimes, letting him know that it made contact. Contact with a Bluetooth enabled phone. It chimes again , letting him know that his co de was injected into the phone. Max continues to make his way along the sidewalk past the CIA field office . His phone chimes a few more times. But Max waits for a different chime.

  The correct chime arrives as he reaches the corner o f the block, well past the non descript door tha t provide s entry into the field office . This chime let s Max know that his c ode is now inside the building. One of the infected Bluetooth phones must have been on an agent , and that agent has now connected their phone to computer systems inside the office.

  Max turn s and walks back to the secure door. As he approaches he takes out his cell phone and taps a code in. The door buzzes open , and he enters, wa lks down a hall , and pass es a man. The man glances at him but keeps walking. Max notes the security cameras at either end of the hallway.

  He turns a corner and walks another hallway , a few more people pass by him. A room to one side is buzzing with people and activity , many flat screen monitors, electronic white boards, and analysts working.

  Max looks through each windowed door as he walks on until he sees a room with a computer and no people. He taps his cell phone , and the door unlocks for him. Sitting at the computer workstation Max again enters a code in his phone and then attaches an external drive to the computer. He waits and counts the passing seconds.

  After ten minutes or so Max gets up, leaves the room, and walks back to the main door. In the final hallway , Max dances a little, as well as he can dance with a cane, and then speaks to the camera before leaving.

  ---

  Mr. Newton’s smart—desk chimes; he puts his drink down and looks at the incoming call queue and sees something interesting, a call bubbled almost to the top of my queue upon receipt. He can’t remember the last time that happened and wonders w hy the CIA would be calling him ?

  He picks up. “Newton here.”

  “Hello Mr. Newton, this is Agent Clark.”

  “Agent Clark . . . It’s been a long time since we spoke.” Mr. Newton pulls up a memory of Iceland . They certainly do put the school s in the worst places.

  “So Mr. Newton, sorry but I don’t have much time today, I need to get right to the point. I have a video that I would like to share with you. Can you open the link I sent; I’ll walk you through it?”

  “Certainly .” Mr. Newton opens the link . “Ready.”

  Agent Clark controls the video for both viewers ; the first scene shows an empty hallway. “This is the entry hallway in one of our field office s in Mexico City.” A man walk s down the hallway and leave s the building. “See, that man?”

  “Of course.”

  “Well he’s an experienced agent . He says when this video was taken, he passed a boy of about ten in this hallway . He says t he boy scanned in , so he didn’t question him. He assumed he was one of our child agents—”

  “Hold on,” Mr. Newton interrupts, “what boy?”

  “Exactly. Now let me show you another clip of a computer lab.” The scene switches to an empty lab.

  “Let me guess, someone saw a boy in t here?”

  “Well, something did, ” says Agent Clark. “A laptop in the corner with a web cam recorded this.”

  Mr. Newton sees a brief video of Max walking in , sitting at a workstation and connecting an external drive. “I see your videos don’t match.”

  “Certainly not. A very good point right now is that none of our workstations will accept connections from an external drive , and we should have received a security alert as soon as this con nection was attempted. It gets even more interesting in a minute; let me fast forward a bit.” The scene moves quickly back to the hallway from the first scene. “See, no one here right?”

  Mr. Newton agrees. Then Max appears out of nowhere, just blinks into existence. Mr. Newton watches as Max looks back at the camera and then move s away with very odd movements. It reminds Mr. Newton of Charlie Chaplin.

  “OK, let me re
wind and pause this just before the boy appears. Now remember, this was taken directl y from our security recordings. Our recordings also have audio. Let me play this back with audio.”

  Mr. Newton sees an empty hallway, then Max appears along with music. A dance track layered over the old We No Speak Americano song. Max dances with his cane down the hallway in time to the music.

  “Wait for it . . .” Agent Clark says .

  Before leaving, Max turn s to the camera, the music stops, and Max says , “Say hi to Mr. Newton for me.”

  “So—Mr. Newton , ” Agent Clark speaks slowly. “I’m pretty sure this boy is one of yours. He has my data and apparently he has control of my security systems. Now the CIA can be patient, given the quality agents you have produced for us in the past . But the thing is, this boy . . . this boy might have downloaded a terabyte of data or more . I say might have, because the workstation he was on shows no record of his actions. Also, this boy has no security clearance, he ’s not American, and he seems to be running loose from MGA . So Mr. Newton—you get this pet of yours under control , or the CIA will put him on a short leash .”

  “Fair enough ; my people are on site as we speak.”

  “Well, I hope they’re good at what they do. Sometimes things don’t end well when the city pound picks up your pet.” The line drops.

  This better be worth it . Mr. Newton shrugs and takes his next call.

  ---

  That same night Keith is looking at video from Max’s littl e show at the CIA field office. He can alter security video. He’s getting better or he was always good but hid it in the past. Keith looks at the security tapes over and over. Max outside. Max invisible. Max appears inside.

  Why did he wait so long outside the CIA office before going in?

  Keith scours the computer system looki ng for errant or hacking code, s pending hours with no results. Not until he isolates a physical computer and breaks it down , looking for root kits does he find anything he can salvage. A small piece of code hooked into the video processing algorithms.

  He watches the video again. Max wandering back and forth on the street outside the CIA office. Why?

  He cross references the people passing by Max with the CIA records. There . Just before Max enters , an agent passed near Max. Looking closely, he can see that the CIA agent is on his phone. There it is. There'll be something on that phone.

  Keith calls Pirelli and asks for the cell phone in the video.

  Chapter 19 –Invention

  Walker sits in ‘t he office ’ alone. The factory smells of grease and diesel fuel even years after it was abandoned. The building has a voice of its own. Small creaking sounds, the occasional snap, quiet scrabbly sounds like rats or mice, and of course the loud scraping sound as Max pulls the outside door open. Walker watches Max step in and try to close the door. Max yanks on it a few times , then gives up with a shrug. Walker takes a deep breath. He know s what Max has done, but wants to hear him explain.

  “Hey,” says Max, “sorry that I left without saying anything to you.” Max flops down in a n office chair with a missing leg and nearly topples over backward .

  “So either you didn’t need me, didn’t want me, didn’t care, or thought you had to keep this secret. Maybe in some way you th ink you’re protecting me. So what is it?”

  “I went without you because I knew you wouldn’t want to do it , and I don’t have the energy to fight over things .”

  “Well,” Walker says, “you did promise not to tell them what we are doing.”

  “I didn’t tell them anything. I just broke into an office.”

  “A CIA OFFICE—Max, why?”

  “To make them come here .”

  “That’s it; you broke into a CIA field office to make them come here. I have two questions. First, why do we want them to come here?”

  “So that they are not where we’re going to be.”

  “And where are we going to be, Max?”

  “At a school . . . in the mountains . . . near Kitimat .”

  Walker sighs. “Next question, did you steal anything from the CIA ?”

  “I took a sack of potatoes and some oranges. Oh and a whack of data, couple terabytes . . . just enough to get their attention . . . but on the upside I infected them with our platform. We can get into the pentagon now, which might be useful someday.”

  “Infecting the CIA with a virus is an upside? Bringing the US military into this is a benefit? . . . You know I saw your video Max. I do know how to use our platform. You’re a terrible dancer . Maybe after we rescue her, Naomi can teach you how to dance.”

  Silence overtakes them for a few minutes. Max shifts in the chair and winces. “I’m sorry Walker.”

  “Ya , ya , how much time do you think we have?”

  “I think we’re still safe here for weeks . Mexico City is big , and they don’t have any way to narrow down where we are.”

  “I f you’re looking for me , ” Walker says. “I’ll be over here, angry with you, and fixing the voice recognition and natural language processor garbage you put in my platform.”

  “I’ll be over here, not angry with you, checking on how my nanoBots are brewing.”

  ---

  Max enters his ‘lab’. They designated it the lab because it’s the cleanest ro om in the factory that still has electricity hooked up. Sitting at his new laptop , he scans to see what his trolls have found. A lab in Arizona published finding s on a new polymer for nanotech use. The Large Hadron Collider guy s finally admitted that they’re also working on nanotech. They have a prototype of a self-replicating bot, just add electricity. A Japanese lab has a bot that can see. They ’ve program m ed it to recognize faces. A lab in Italy created a bot that coats your shoes and keeps your feet “dry and elega nt .”

  Max mutters and moves on, s kimming down the list. Then he sees it. A German la b ran an experiment last night, a n experiment Max has his hooks in. The experiment worked , but because of Max the lab only sees another failure. Max pulls down the data he needs.

  “WALKER. COME HERE. I NEED YOU, ” Max yells through the factory.

  Walke r arrives after quite some time. “You’re a dork. The CIA is probably on their way here right now , and you’re bothering me with inventor-jokes?”

  “Actually , I do need you. I need your help getting more electrici ty in this room. I also think I might need some batteries for my trench coat.” Max and Walker work together and after a few hours Max has what he needs. Everything is plugged in and ready.

  Max connects his laptop to the systems on the workbench. He sends a command to the platform. Walker back s away, looking a little bit frightened and prepared to take cover , like something might blow up any second. Nothing at first, then a swirling grey-black cloud rises out of a large glass bottle. It looks like a small tornado. Max types , and the tornado disappears. “Walker, you saw that right? I’m not seeing things again?”

  “I saw that. You just contro lled nanobots from our platform . . . from your laptop.”

  “I’m going to be up all night making this better.” Max puts his head down and writes more code to control the bots .

  Walker wanders away.

  Max has his cane on the desk, the bottom cap removed, sliding electronics inside. He taps records on his tablet. “We have a week at best, so we should leave in a couple days . The whispering is here , pushing through the cracks now and then . If I listen carefully, I can make out w hat they are saying. I can’t keep this up forever . Eventually , I have to let them in , they only let me play alone for so long. I have to keep moving forward. I have to find my way to her .”

  ---

  Connor draws a circle on a map of Mexico City , then an X. “The circle is the outer limit of bank machines they have used. The X represents the CIA field office. This would have us canvassing a pretty large area, about twenty city blocks by thirty city block s . This morning, Sarah had an idea. I’ll let her explain.”

  “I was thinking about how Max can
make cell phone calls that we can’t trace. I thought, w hat if we forget about the packets coming from his phone and trace the outgoing packets going to his phone . I know we won’t find his phone exactly because he has his phone obscured , but we might get the last cell phone tower. So I ca lled MGA and explained the idea . . . they won’t give me the outgoing cell packet data of the last person Max called at MGA , classified.”

  “Idiots,” says Hastings.

  “So,” Sara h continues, “I sent MGA the algorithm and just asked for the result. I just want a cell phone tower, the last one that had a packet heading for Max.” She marks another X on the map and draws a line around three blocks. “He made the call from inside this area.”

  “Don’t cell tower s cover a circle?” asks Pirelli. “You drew an odd shape there.” He points at the map.

  “Cell coverage is based on local topography, hills, buildings, and other interference. We got lucky; in this case , the tower covers a very small area. It’s all industrial; we only have to search five abandoned factories.”

  ---

  Max wakes with a start , his face in a puddle of drool beside his laptop . ‘the o ffice’ is dark. Walker must have turned the lights out . Some sound must have woken him. He freezes . Listening for a full minute. Then wakes up his laptop, 9PM Friday. His phone b uzzes, startling him, p icking it up he sees that he has twenty-three new text m essages. He opens the first .

  get out The world suddenly feels creepy. He opens the next text.

  leave Next.

  they there - leave Max scrolls through the rest.

  get out . . . leave . . . leave . . . they there . . . leave leave leave leave leave . . .

  Happy and scared, Max tex ts a reply : understood leaving Max picks up his cane and shrugs into his trench coat, puts his laptop in a backpack and throws it over his shoulder, then stands still. The room lurches. Instead of fighting it, Max lets the whispering roll over him, lets the acceleration happen. Theories explode in his head. His vision improves . Smell s assault him. Along with the acceleration , his chest tightens, his limbs go numb, he get s light headed.