“No,” Kent replied.
“So, where’s Jen?” said Deever. “I got her text.”
“Dr. Crane was unable to join us,” said Jones.
“Is everything all right?”
“That depends, Dr. MacClendon. How much does she know?”
“That sounds like a threat, man. What’s the story?”
Jones nodded to his partner. Mr. Kent twisted Deever’s hand behind his back and wrapped his free arm around Deever’s neck in an inefficient chokehold that could easily have been broken. I indicated the escape method to Deever, but he chose instead to remain in the man’s grasp in an effort to obtain further information about Dr. Crane.
“What’s with the Gestapo strong-arm tactics?” Deever sputtered.
“How much does she know?” Jones repeated.
“About what?”
“About the gold, Doctor.”
“Nothing. She was just helping me fine-tune the Wiggler. That’s all.”
“She’s a scientist, Doctor. She’s a woman. Wasn’t she the least bit curious about what you were doing?”
“I told her I needed her help for my research, just like you said.”
“How did you explain the presence of so much gold in your laboratory?”
“She was never here when the gold was being made, just like she was never here when I sent out the shipments, exactly like you told me to do. Why are you asking me this? Check your security tapes, man.”
“We are checking the tapes, Doctor.”
“Look, you approved her being here. Why are you hassling me?”
“You left this facility without leaving proper notification of your whereabouts.”
“I needed a break, man.”
“You told the guard you were going out to eat.”
“Last minute change of plans. What can I tell you?”
“You can start with why you discussed trade secrets in an unsecured hotel room.”
“You were spying on us? Wow, that’s heavy.”
“Who else did you discuss your project with?”
“No one, man. Get off my back, will you?”
Jones noticed me and lifted Deever’s wrist for a closer examination. “I see you’ve managed to find expensive ways to spend the money we’ve been giving you.” He nodded to Kent to let Deever go. “Your agreement was to maintain the utmost secrecy. I’m just trying to ensure that this is the case.”
“I know it’s a big secret. I also know you can’t go around kidnapping people. It’s most uncool and highly illegal.”
“Actually, detaining Dr. Crane for questioning is well within the parameters of our contract with the military when national security is threatened.”
“She’s not a threat.”
“That remains to be seen.”
“What are you going to do to her?”
“As I said, she is being questioned.”
“Yeah, like you’re waterboarding her, right?”
“Torture is illegal, Doctor. She’s being questioned.”
“She doesn’t know anything. Let her go, dude.”
“She’ll be released when we’re done with her.”
“This is a free country. You can’t do this.”
“Yes, we can, Doctor.”
“Let her go, or I’m done here, Jones. No more gold. No more contracts. Finito. Comprende?”
Jones reduced the distance between his face and Deever’s in a manner I could only interpret as an attempt to intimidate. “I don’t think you understand, Dr. MacClendon,” he said. “We’re behind schedule. That is unacceptable. You need to double production.”
“Double? I’d need another Wiggler to do that. We’re talking beaucoup de buckage here, man.”
“Money is no object. Order what you need and build it. Do it, and we’ll release Dr. Crane. If you don’t, the consequences of not meeting our goals would be very unfortunate for Pan-Robotics and most unpleasant for the two of you. Do I make myself clear?”
“Dude, you definitely need a stronger mouthwash.”
Jones grabbed him by the neck and squeezed. “Double the production or else. Comprende?”
The two men left. Deever sat down. He took out his lighter and a marijuana cigarette, stared at them for a moment, and then threw them against the wall.
“This is a major bummer,” he said.
I have activated an audio link with Katherine, Deever.
“Kate, are you there?” he said.
“Deever. Can you hear me?”
“Yeah, but you’re like all muffled.”
Deever, I am transmitting her voice digitally through your nervous system, simulating the analog signals you would normally receive from your eardrum. Give me a moment to enhance and adjust. Ask her to try again.
“OK. Say something now, Kate.”
“Better?” she said.
“Affirmatory.”
Deever, you do not need to vocalize. In fact, it would be preferable if you did not. I am detecting a listening device in the room, and a newly installed camera that has been activated in the corner by the ceiling that you have not yet tied into.
“So, I just think it?”
Yes.
“Is that Jennifer I hear?” said Katherine.
Yes, Katherine, I replied.
“Far out,” Deever thought. “A conference call.”
“I saw what happened but there was no sound. Are you OK?” Katherine said.
“Just groovy.”
“What’s the word on Dr. Crane?”
“Not good. They’re holding Jen for questioning.”
“Who is?”
“I don’t know. The military, Pan-Robotics, somebody.”
“On what authority?”
“They said something about their military contract and how it was their right to hold her and question her. National security. Blah, blah, blah. It’s all bullshit, Kate.”
“Well, at least we know she’s safe. Are you coming out now?”
I believe you will find that the elevator is locked down, I said.
Deever went over to the elevator and pressed the UP button. Nothing happened. He picked up the phone. The line was dead.
“You can’t do this!” he shouted at the camera. “This is a major violation of my rights, man.”
“I’m coming in,” said Katherine.
You do not have jurisdiction here, Katherine, I pointed out.
“Jurisdiction, my ass. I’m coming in.”
She cut the connection. I searched the plant’s network for the front gate camera video feed and piped it through to Deever’s retina. We watched the unpleasant exchange that transpired between Katherine and the guards. I believe humans call it a pissing contest, as if urinating were some sort of game. She apparently lost. She left the plant grounds, and I reconnected us.
“The pricks won’t let me in,” she said, “and they won’t let you out.”
“Now what?” said Deever.
“I have a friend at the FBI. Hang on while I make the call.”
While Deever was waiting for Katherine, he began working on the parts list for another Wiggler.
Deever, are you sure about this?
“I know what I’m doing.”
From my analysis of previous cases in the Metro Police files, acceding to an extortionist’s demands only leads to further demands.
“I said I know what I’m doing.”
Katherine came back on the line. “I had to leave a message.”
“But they’re the FBI, man,” said Deever.
“Deever, it’s the middle of the night.”
“Shit.”
“This isn’t right, Deever. They can’t hold you against your will when you haven’t committed a crime.”
“They can when it’s Big Brother’s version of liberty and justice for all.”
“I don’t care. I don’t like it.”
“I don’t, either, but what can we do?”
“Not much right now, I guess, but at least we kno
w Dr. Crane is safe. Call me if you need me, otherwise I’ll talk to you tomorrow. OK?”
“Affirmatory, Ms. Five-O. Mucho thanks for protecting and serving.”
“You are so strange,” she said, disconnecting the call.
Deever went to his room, turned off the lights, and lay down on his bed. As he stared into the darkness, I studied his brain wave patterns. His mind was an intricate lattice of interconnecting parallel thoughts that continued to work on problems he was not even consciously aware were problems. I find humans in general fascinating that way. Despite knowing that rest and regeneration is required for a productive next day’s activities, the human mind often cannot stop working on unsolved problems. Deever desperately needed sleep, so I made some minor adjustments to the chemical imbalance in his system to induce a restful night while I worked on other things.
Chapter 10
Deever awoke feeling refreshed and in good spirits until he remembered that he and Dr. Crane were both prisoners. Despair in humans comes from an interesting mix of chemicals that create all kinds of neural misfirings and inappropriate deductive gate connections. Even more interesting is that in terms of human physiology there is very little difference between the conditions of hope and despair. Given the same set of circumstances, a simple tweak in two or three neurotransmitters is all that is required to change a hopeless and desperate person into a hopeful, determined one. Deever needed to remain hopeful, so I took it upon myself to ensure that he did. He got up and took the shower he badly needed, heated up a prepackaged breakfast, ate every bite, and sat down at his computer to drink his coffee. I watched as he placed his order in the system for the additional equipment needed to build another Wiggler.
How are you feeling, Deever? I said.
“You already know, don’t you?”
I do, but it seems more polite and natural to ask.
“Except that life sucks, I’m good, thanks. How about you?”
I am fine, thank you. I have been attempting to access the computer system at Pan-Robotics without success, but I have not given up.
“We don’t need access to their system. We need a jailbreak.”
With access to their system that might be possible, but we would require additional personnel with insider knowledge for any such incursion.
“You really need to work on the whole robot talk thing if you’re going to blend in, Jennifer.”
I rephrased for his benefit. We need more bodies, Deever.
“If you dig one up, let me know.”
I shall.
We left each other alone for the rest of the morning. He worked on the Wiggler, tweaking its settings to maximize the results. I spent my time probing the OmniNet. It was early afternoon when I detected an incoming call from Katherine that plant security was attempting to block. I bypassed their system and channeled it directly into his consciousness.
“Deever, are you there?” she said.
Startled, he looked around the lab, then thought, “Kate? Is that you?”
“Yeah, it’s me all right.”
“Where’ve you been?”
“Didn’t you catch the news? I’ve been a little busy.”
I accessed OmniNet news and transferred the feed to both Deever’s retina and Katherine’s phone so they could watch together. It was a story on the previous night’s police action at the pier. The station was showing security footage of the gun battle while describing the heroic actions of Detective Katherine Wasnewsky. The film showed her shooting from behind the barrels, the portholes exploding on the ship, and then her retreating to her car with a frightened woman in tow. They switched back to a reporter interviewing Katherine and her captain.
“I told her to stay back. It was too dangerous,” said Captain Phipps. “But she saw an innocent civilian in harm’s way and that always takes precedence. We’re proud of Detective Wasnewsky’s actions. It was her good investigative work and heroics that saved over eight hundred lives, delivered Carlos Dran into our hands, and brought down that human-trafficking cell. To show you just how proud of her we are, I’m happy to announce that I’ve put through the recommendation for her immediate promotion to Detective Sergeant. She’s earned it.”
“Were there any other security cameras covering the pier?” asked the reporter. “And will you be making that footage available to the media as well?”
“We’re still looking into that,” Phipps replied. “Once we figure out where that clip you got came from, we’ll let you know.”
“Detective Wasnewsky,” another reporter said, “that was some pretty amazing work there. Where did you learn to shoot like that?”
“Just lucky, I guess,” Katherine said.
“What about the woman you saved? What can you tell us about her?”
“Nothing really. She was just someone in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“How does it feel to have single-handedly saved eight hundred people from a human-trafficking gang?”
“Let’s get something straight,” Katherine replied. “Whatever happened out there, I didn’t do it alone. I’m no hero.”
The captain intervened. “What the detective sergeant means is that the Metro Police work as a team. They’re all heroes. Now if you’ll excuse us, the mayor wants to see us in his office.”
I cut the feed.
“Wow, nice, Kate,” said Deever, “totally bogus, but nice.”
“You want to tell me how they got that fake footage?” Katherine said.
I assume you are asking me? I replied.
“That’s right.”
It was done primarily as an exercise to prove a point.
“Which was what?”
Deever had already figured it out. “Remember how you thought I was tripping when what I was telling you was totally not what the parking lot security camera at the resort showed?”
“Yeah?” Katherine said.
“I think Jennifer’s been a busy little girl.”
Indeed I have, I said. Observe.
I replayed for them in fast forward my video editing session of the previous night. I had begun with the truth as recorded through Deever’s eyes, then removed him entirely from the memory and replaced him with an itinerant woman I had found among previous security camera recordings of the pier environs made over the course of the past year. Then it was simply a matter of cut and paste to alter the weapon Katherine was holding, and overlay and retime her firing to match Deever’s shots at the Dran. The last step was uploading the video to the dock cameras. The entire one-minute clip that had been sent to the TV station anonymously had taken me fifteen minutes to produce.
When the demonstration ended, I said, I have since located records of over two hundred criminal cases in the Metro Police district over the past five years in which altered security footage was used to convict apparently innocent people. The alterations to the recordings were very well done, nearly undetectable, but not perfect.
I began to list onscreen the photos of the criminals and pertinent facts from the cases. Louise Parkins, age 35, mother of three, no prior arrests, convicted of the brutal slaying of a convenience store clerk a block from her home. Motive: robbery. Jordan Bellows, age 67, army veteran, lost his left foot in an industrial accident and receiving disability, convicted of breaking and entering a second-story walk-up with the subsequent murder of its two occupants. Motive: drugs. Carrie Nash, age 18, college-bound honor student, convicted of the stabbing murders of three teachers at her senior prom. Motive: revenge.
I paused the display. Shall I continue? I said.
“This can’t be right,” said Katherine. “This can’t have happened. No way.”
Yes way, I replied. My attempt to respond in a manner more appropriate to a human at first felt somewhat dissatisfying until I realized that in this case it was not the facts in my retort that mattered. It was the incisive brevity that impressed them both.
“Who would do that?” she said. “And why?”
In each case, the charges
were severe enough to warrant federal jurisdiction and subsequent incarceration in a federal facility. Five years ago, the Pan-Robotics Corporation was awarded the contract to staff and automate the entire Federal Penitentiary System.
“So what?”
The Justice Reform Bill of 2086 transferred incarceration responsibilities for many previously state and local crimes to the federal government. The federal government in turn was required to expand its facilities and staff to accommodate the increased number of inmates to be housed. The states, for their part, were obligated to pay a maintenance fee for their own residents who were federally incarcerated. The system was ill designed and shortsighted. Its basis was in what was once called a pyramid scheme. As long as the prison population grew, the system was self-funded. Unfortunately, with the advent of improved policing practices and the subsequent drop in crime rate, prison populations decreased dramatically, leaving federal prisons operating at slightly less than half-capacity, causing a massive deficit in their operating budget. This prompted the awarding of the contract to Pan-Robotics to increase operating efficiency. Their payment is in part based on the number of inmates housed. Therefore, it is in their best interests to see the prisons fully occupied. Coincidentally, in the past five years since the awarding of the contract there has been an unexplained spike in violent crimes throughout the country, and the federal prison system is now operating at full capacity with plans to further expand.
“Pan-Robotics is doing this for money?” said Deever. “They murder and set people up for money? No way, Jose.”
Yes way, Jose, I said. This time it was apparent that my adaptation of the colloquialism sounded ineffectual, and I tabled all such language alterations pending further analysis.
“Prove it,” Deever replied.
In each case, the expert witnesses called to verify the authenticity of the security tapes were employees of a publicly traded consulting firm whose controlling shareholder is the Pan-Robotics Corporation. I can display for you the circuitous path of ownership if you like.
“Shit,” Katherine said.
I have also located several hundred more cases outside City Center involving that same consulting firm where altered camera footage was used as evidence, I said.
“Where?” asked Katherine.
The Jennifer Project Page 12
