The Jennifer Project

by Larry Enright

  “Not really. I can’t remember what you did yesterday, either.”

  She laughed, then began to cry, but couldn’t say why when Deever asked her.

  Deever, I said.

  “I know,” he replied. “Hey, Jen, let’s head back, OK? I’m kind of tired.”

  “OK,” she said, and they returned to the cabana to rest.

  It was difficult for Deever to work efficiently during this time even though Dr. Crane’s health was markedly improved. She continued to exhibit symptoms of mild dementia, and that weighed heavily on him even knowing as he did that there was a 91 percent probability that the next version of the Biocard would completely cure her. He simply could not focus on the task at hand. It must be fairly clear to you at this point that human chemical reactions are rarely based on logic, deduction, and inference. More often than not, they are triggered by emotional stimuli, illogical fears, and hopes. Humans find them difficult to control and often overwhelming. I had suggested to Deever early on in his association with Pan-Robotics that he take up watching movies again as a way to relax and unwind. He readily agreed. He loved movies. They took him away from the terrible things that were happening in the real world, away from the things he could not bear to see. During the long difficult months following Dr. Crane’s Biocard implant, he took to watching them even more frequently. Between that, and periodic adjustments to his body chemistry, we kept the Biocard project on track.

  Speaking of projects, the Jennifer Project had become an unstoppable force. The number of installations continued to grow exponentially, assisted in no small part by humanity’s predictable spirit of industriousness and clever opportunism. Entire industries arose around it. Several examples come to mind. One whose name was the Re-Jennifer Corporation had as its sole purpose the recycling of Jennifer-2s decommissioned due to their wearer’s death. Another called After-Jen was a nonprofit that provided an aftermarket for used Jennifer-2s accepted for trade-in on a different model. These they either sold at cost or donated to those who could not otherwise afford their own. Another named Jen-For-You manufactured holographic clip-ons that changed the look and color of the Jennifer-2. Baby Jennifer was another. That company dealt exclusively in assisting new parents in selecting the right model for their newborn before they ever left the hospital. I have to admit, humans are if anything quite ingenious. According to the dwindling number of groups decrying the technology, nearly half the world was wearing a Jennifer-2, but the data presented at the latest Pan-Robotics board meeting indicated that the number was much higher, 8,832,176,452 to be exact.

  The 10 or so percent of the world still not using one consisted primarily of those at the lowest reaches of society. To achieve total world coverage, the Jennifer control program took it upon itself to implant the suggestion in the minds of its government constituents that they set up a massive coordinated effort to subsidize the purchase of units for the underserved and destitute. This created an immediate worldwide humanitarian reaction to the notion, with the subsequent enactment of legislation around the globe to ensure everyone their right to the benefits of the technology whether or not they could afford it. When notified of the Jennifer control program’s actions by one of its human monitors, the Pan-Robotics board unanimously approved of it after the fact.

  Actual delivery of the Jennifer-2s to those living on the fringes of society was a slow process. Most had no Biocard and often resided in remote locations or in blighted areas not frequented by their governments. The control program solved this problem by creating the Jen Corps and accepting as volunteers millions of young energetic individuals whose mission was to seek out the remaining humans and see to it that they were given the opportunity to become members of the enlightened world community.

  Another significant obstacle to the board’s goal of 100 percent distribution were the countries in which it was considered a violation of religious law to even think or talk about a Jennifer-2. It was a crime punishable by death. Their authoritarian persecution in the face of this worldwide phenomenon predictably led to unrest, and as the technology spread surreptitiously into these countries, one by one they fell into civil war, and one by one they turned to secular forms of government and joined the rest of the world.

  The last major impediment to the project’s success were the various groups that continued to fight against their inclusion into the Jennifer society. They used guerilla tactics and violence. They disrupted power grids, destroyed Pan-Robotics factories, and sabotaged transportation systems, doing everything in their power to stop the spread of the technology. The largest and most disruptive of these groups called themselves the Resistance. They were of particular interest to Kerlin James because of the threat they posed. He wanted them found. He wanted them stopped. It had become an obsession with him, but thus far his soldiers had failed to locate their hiding places. At the control program’s suggestion, a new section was added to the space station to house additional equipment that could be used to locate them and others of the same ilk. New propulsion units were designed and installed on the program’s recommendation, too. Defense systems were enhanced to counter perceived threats from any such insurgent group. Purchasing decisions, strategic plans, construction designs—all were made autonomously by the program and approved by the board and Kerlin James ex post facto. The Jennifer Project was operating independently and perfectly.

  What was not operating perfectly was the leadership within the company. As the Jennifer Project neared completion, it became apparent that other revenue streams, as humans call them, were drying up. Arms sales that had initially increased after the project’s successful takeover of the world’s governments were no longer sustainable. War had become unnecessary. As was the case with manufactured crime, Pan-Robotics began to manufacture wars on a scale far greater than the simple supplying of arms to all sides, but as governments continued to borrow from one another to support these efforts, it became painfully obvious to the board that they were in reality borrowing from themselves since it was Pan-Robotics that controlled those governments. The same was true of prison contracts. Prisons were operating at capacity, new ones were being built, and violent crimes were being manufactured as needed, but the payments for services rendered were in fact payments Pan-Robotics was making to itself. This was true of every other industry in which they had a hand, and they had their hands in them all. The making of money had become pointless, for there was very little left to buy that they would not be buying from themselves. The profits disappeared.

  This led to bickering and dissention within the board. Many of those who were also leaders of the most powerful countries on Earth, wanted to go back to the old way of doing things. Others had actually come to prefer the contentment and prosperity spreading across the planet. Kerlin James did not seem interested in either side’s opinion. He was tired of dealing with the board as the only ones exempt from participation in the project, and done with having to pretend to value their opinions. He no longer needed to hide behind the curtain. He no longer needed them. To this end, he arranged with Deever to segregate a portion of the control program to operate independently, outside Tower scrutiny and answerable to him alone. Once in place, he initiated covert operations to send elite teams in to assimilate the board members into the Jennifer network. From that point forward, Kerlin James ruled the world from orbit.

  Chapter 19

  Kerlin James finished paging through the results and looked up at Deever, who was relaxing in a chair across the desk from him with a chimpanzee in his lap.

  “Well?” Deever said.

  “It could take years for my people to verify this data.”

  “No offense, man, but your people wouldn’t know whether to leave a dish of warm milk or a sympathy card for Schrödinger’s Cat.”

  “What makes you so certain this will work?”

  “It majorly worked for little Jimmy here.” Deever scratched the chimpanzee behind its ear. A gentle creature, it stroked Deever’s hair and kissed him on the che
ek. “Mr. James, Jimmy’s been cancer-free for a month and his brain is back to normal, better than normal. It’s entirely awesome. He’s become like smart, like his brain has evolved to the next level or something. He even understands our language now, and Jen and I have been teaching him to sign his responses.”

  “Yes, I read the report,” said James. “Very impressive. What is it that the monkey is signing now?” he asked when Jimmy made several intricate hand motions.

  “Don’t be rude, man,” Deever said to Jimmy. The chimp signed something else. “Stop saying that. He’s not going to do anything to me.” Deever looked up at Mr. James. “He says you’re a bad man. He’s afraid you’re going to hurt me.”

  “I am a bad man, Doctor. I am also a practical one.”

  “Then check this out, Commander Badpractical. Jimmy is sixty-one. The life expectancy of a chimp in captivity is sixty. He was on his last legs when we implanted the Jennifer Biocard, but in just one month the Nanemes cured his cancer, jump-started his brain, repaired the arthritis in his knees, fixed his heart so it’s working like a teenager’s, and it’s rebuilding his vascular system as we speak. What more proof do you want?”

  “Monkeys are not humans. How do you know these Nanemes won’t kill Dr. Crane?”

  “Dude, we share 99 percent of our DNA with chimpanzees. It can’t get any better than that. Didn’t you read what your own doc said about it? It’s like near the end of the summary.”

  “I read it. In his opinion, the monkey’s recovery is unlike anything he’s ever seen.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about.”

  “But he also states that there is no way of knowing what effect the device may have on a human, Dr. MacClendon.”

  “We’re ready for a human trial, man.”

  Mr. James tapped his finger thoughtfully on the desk. His gaze became distant. His lips twitched. Matching these observations to my files on human behavioral psychology, it was clear that Kerlin James was approaching a decision point.

  “How many of these chips did you make?” he asked.

  “It only takes one, man.”

  “How long to make another?”

  “Months.”

  “How many months?”

  “I don’t know. Five or six? Plus, I think I totally used up your guys’ stash of Nanemes. They’d have to make more before I could even start. So we’re talking a year, give or take.”

  Mr. James grimaced and bent over, clutching his side. Deever reached across the desk to help him. “Are you OK, man?”

  James pushed him away. “Don’t ever touch me again.” An auto-injector built into his chair activated and medication flowed.

  “You don’t look so good, Mr. James,” Deever said. “Want to take five?”

  James straightened up. “No. I’m fine. Just to be clear, Dr. Crane has agreed to this?”

  “She said either do the deed or let me die. She doesn’t want to go on like this.”

  “And the Biocard is ready to implant?”

  “That’s why I’m here.”

  “Where is it?”

  Deever carried the chip in a static-free magnifying container that was the size of a ring box. He handed it to James. “Look,” he said, “but don’t touch.”

  James opened the box and peered inside. “Where is it?”

  “The magnifier is on the lid, boss man.”

  James flipped the magnifier down. The multi-colored glistening of the Biocard’s nanoelectronics reflected in the polymer corrective lenses implanted in his narrowing eyes. “So small a thing, so great a risk,” he whispered.

  “Now or never,” Deever said. “Make the call.”

  James snapped the box shut. “I already have.”

  One thing about humans I find thoroughly fascinating is that despite their higher-level language skills, they still communicate most effectively through the basic language of their own bodies. James’s expression changed in that instant to the dark look of a man ready to commit an act of treachery. Two guards and his personal physician entered the room. The guards held Deever down, and the doctor injected him with a strong sedative.

  “What’s the story, man?” Deever asked just before he nodded off.

  “Change of plans, Doctor,” James replied.

  When Deever awoke, it was in a chair in the station’s med-lab. Kerlin James was lying on the operating table, the physician prepping him for surgery. Deever was wearing a Jennifer-2 on his wrist.

  When James saw Deever stirring, he said, “Is the control program in place?”

  “Yes, sir,” came the reply from one of the lab’s monitors. “It’s set to respond to your voice command alone.”

  “Excellent. Run MacClendon program.”

  The Jennifer-2 on Deever’s wrist came to life. “Program activated.”

  “Dr. MacClendon, are you awake?” said James.

  “Whoa. Did anyone get the number of that truck?” Deever said.

  “Dr. MacClendon, your current task is to assist in the Biocard implant procedure. Is that clear?”

  “Right on, but what are you doing on the table, man? Where’s Jen?”

  “Change of plans. You’ll be implanting the chip in me.”

  “Oh, OK, but what about Jen?”

  “Dr. Crane is no longer your concern. Do you understand?”

  “Roger. Concern for Jen set to off.” Deever got up and shook off the residual effects of his drug-induced sleep. He smiled. “What a rush. OK, let’s get started. Let me see the chart.”

  The doctor handed James’s medical chart to Deever after starting the anesthesia drip.

  “Oh wow, man. You’re a hundred and six?” Deever said. “You’re in pretty good shape for an old fart.”

  “Transplants, Dr. MacClendon,” said James. “The best money can buy. But even at that, the body can only take so much. I’ve been told I need another new heart. It would have been my third. Ironically, my only son was the perfect donor but was too selfish to make the ultimate sacrifice for his loving father. Such a disappointment . . . But no matter . . . It recently became a moot point when my physician advised me that I couldn’t survive another operation. I’ve run out of time, Doctor, but your little device is going to give that back to me.”

  “Ninety-one percent certain,” Deever said, “and it will keep you going for six hundred years more before you’ll need another jump start.”

  “Perfect . . .” James said as he slipped into unconsciousness.

  The procedure went without incident. Deever returned to his rooms where he found Dr. Crane waiting.

  “Why were you gone so long?” she asked. “What did he say?”

  “Change of plans, Jen.”

  “What change of plans? What about the operation?”

  “It’s been canceled. James had us implant the chip in him. We’ve been ordered back to Earth. Guess he doesn’t need us anymore.”

  “What? No. Deever, you said . . .”

  “Forget what I said.”

  She noticed the Jennifer-2 on his wrist and began to cry. “No, not you, too.” Her sobbing turned to anger. She tore at the skin covering her Biocard. “Take it out,” she said. “I don’t want to live anymore, not like this. Take it out, Deever.”

  He took her hand and whispered, “Don’t do that, Jen. Come on. We don’t want to miss our ride.”

  Deever, Dr. Crane, and Jimmy went to the Space Elevator and left the station, sliding downward on the tenuous ribbon of carbon nanotubes toward the Earth. One interesting fact about space elevators is that they have no onboard brakes. Once gravity takes over, there is no stopping or turning back until they have reached the other end of the ribbon. I say interesting, but in this case, I believe Deever might have used the word fortuitous. The officer on duty in the space station command center contacted the elevator a mere ten minutes after its departure, when it was sixty-five kilometers away but not out of weapons range.

  “Who authorized this?” he demanded.

  “Hey, don’t look
at me,” said Deever, showing the man his Jennifer-2. “I’m just following orders.”

  “Whose orders?”

  “I don’t know what to tell you, man. I just work here.”

  “The elevator wasn’t scheduled to leave for another two days, and you two were not supposed to be on it. How did you get clearance?”

  “Why are you asking me? Check your panel, dude.”

  “I did. It lists Mr. James as the authorizing officer. The voiceprint is an exact match, but that’s impossible. He ordered the station locked down before his surgery, and he was unconscious at the time your transfer was issued.”

  “Well then, I guess we’ve got ourselves a program glitch. It sucks that I’m not there to help you fix it.”

  “We have lasers locked onto you, Dr. MacClendon. You can’t escape.”

  “Who says I’m escaping? Like I told you, man, gizmo here ordered me to return to Earth with Jen and Jimmy. That’s all I know.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “Look, don’t get your panties in a bunch.”

  “We could blow you out of the sky.”

  “Dude, don’t make a half trillion-dollar mistake. It wouldn’t look good on your résumé.”

  “What am I supposed to do, just let you go?”

  “We’re not going anywhere but down, right? Tell your guys at the Tower we’ll be there in two days. That gives you a pantload of time to figure out what happened and come up with a game plan that your boss will be happy with. OK? So, just chill. Call me if you need any help.”

  Deever cut the feed and lay down to rest while gravity continued to propel the Elevator back to Earth. On the second day of the two-day trip, Kerlin James contacted them on a video channel.

  “Dr. MacClendon,” he said.

  “Looking good, Mr. J,” Deever replied. “What’s up?”

  “How did you override the Jennifer-2 protocols?”

  “What makes you think I did?”

  “You were not supposed to leave this station.”

  “Hey, all I know is I was ordered to take Jen and Jimmy to the elevator and head back to Earth.”