by Naam, Ramez
The silver-haired admiral looked up from his slate, met Pryce's eyes, held them steadily. "This mission is a crock of shit."
Becker felt himself bristle. People around the table straightened themselves in surprise. Becker opened his mouth to reply.
Pryce held her raised palm out towards him, her eyes still on McWilliams. The reply died on Becker's lips.
"Go on, Admiral."
"First, we shouldn't have launched those recon drones last night. We have a chain of command for a reason." His eyes flickered over Becker and then Maximilian Barnes.
I've made an enemy, Becker realized. Going around him and his people pissed him off.
"Second, this mission looks good on a slate, but no plan survives contact with the enemy. Everything has to go perfectly for us to get in and out without being detected. That's possible, but unlikely. If anything goes sideways at all, we'll be caught invading an undefended, civilian, holy site in a nominally allied country. And for what?" He slid his slate across the table, a picture of Kaden Lane on it. "For bullshit. It's not worth it."
Everyone started talking at once.
Pryce held her hand up. "Quiet."
The noise stopped as quickly as it had begun.
She gestured to Becker. "This is your plan, Deputy Director. What do you say to the admiral's objections?"
Becker took a breath, tried to project calm.
"Admiral McWilliams is correct that this could go sideways. My commitment to you, Admiral, is that at the first hint that there's any chance of discovery of the mission, we'll abort it. What I weigh against the risks are the national security value of understanding the methods the Chinese have for coercion, the importance of keeping fourth-gen enhancements and Nexus 5 off the streets, and my personal passion for getting a loyal agent home in one piece. I'd think you'd understand that."
"I'd be touched if you showed half as much passion for the civil rights of ordinary Americans," McWilliams drawled back.
Becker flushed.
That prick.
People started talking at once, stumbling all over each other. CIA Director Alan Keyes threw up a hand in exasperation. Senator Engels chuckled in amusement. Maximilian Barnes just leaned back and watched it all, impassive.
"Quiet!" Pryce slammed her hand on the table this time.
Silence returned at once.
"Admiral McWilliams," she said. "Remember where you are, and keep your personal opinions contained."
She slowly scanned the room, as if daring anyone to make a sound. No one did.
"The President has made the elimination of transhuman and posthuman threats one of his top national security policies," Pryce said. "We serve to implement those policies. At the same time, we do not want to be seen as taking unauthorized military action inside Thailand. Given that, I'm going to recommend to the President that we move forward with this operation, under very specific conditions."
She lifted an elegantly manicured hand, locked eyes with Becker, counted off her conditions on dark-skinned fingers.
"First, no action against Su-Yong Shu unless you can provide concrete evidence of direct action by her against American forces and in violation of Copenhagen. Everything you have here is circumstantial. Get proof, and you'll have your clearance to go after her."
Becker nodded.
"Second, only stealthed equipment and only then under the cover of night. Third, no civilian casualties. Not a single one. You load non-lethal rounds and you only switch to lethal if there are no civilians anywhere in the area and you're returning lethal fire from your missing agents or another combatant. Fourth, absolutely zero, and I mean zero evidence of US involvement. This will not become an international incident, and this will not become an issue in the US this November. If there is even the slightest chance of detection, you abort immediately."
Becker nodded again. He didn't trust himself to speak.
Pryce scanned the room, looking each of them in the eye. ERD Enforcement Division Deputy Director Becker, Secretary of Homeland Security Hughes, ERD Director Duran, Director of the Central Intelligence Agency Keyes, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs McWilliams, Secretary of State Abrams, Senate Oversight Committee Chairwoman Engels, Special Policy Advisor Maximilian Barnes.
"Are we all clear on this?"
McWilliams snorted. Barnes watched the room silently. Everyone else nodded, voiced their assent.
"Good," Pryce said. "I brief the President in less than an hour. Admiral McWilliams, you're welcome to accompany me and present the case against this mission. I'll let all of you know the President's decision immediately thereafter. Good day, gentlemen. Good day, Senator."
45
ANYONE
The symphony of mind finally ended. The thoughts of the greater mind went from thick braids to wispy tendrils and then to vapor, dissipating in a glorious sigh of contentment. Everyone opened their eyes, made respectful wais towards the altar.
Ananda gestured for Kade to remain as the others filed quietly out.
"How do you feel now?" Ananda asked him.
Kade considered himself, observed himself. "Better. Calmer. Tired."
Ananda nodded. "Good. This was just a beginning, but a good one. You will heal."
"Thank you," Kade said.
Ananda nodded again. "Su-Yong Shu will arrive to visit you tonight. It will be after midnight."
Shu was coming. He had so many questions for her. Was the anger what drove her on? Could she heal? Could she release her hatred?
"I'll see to it that you're awakened when she arrives," Ananda said.
Kade nodded his thanks.
"And tomorrow you move on."
Kade nodded again. Safety meant moving, for now. He would miss this place. There was so much he wanted to know.
"The things you're doing here…?" he asked. "The things you talked about at the conference. Where are you going with all this?"
Ananda smiled. "You've seen some of what goes on here. You've heard me speak. What does it seem like we're doing?"
"You're teaching monks to use Nexus, to integrate it permanently."
"Yes."
"You're showing them how to meditate together, how to synchronize their minds further."
"We're learning that together."
"You talked about group minds," Kade said. "About taking neuroscience from the individual to the group level."
"Yes."
"You're trying to make it real here."
Ananda held Kade's gaze with his own deep, dark eyes. "Yes."
"With you in charge?" Kade asked.
Ananda smiled slightly.
"I meant what I said about Buddhism being democratic. You've been part of the group mind. Is anyone in charge? Is any single neuron in charge in your brain?"
Kade nodded to himself. It had felt organic, emergent, self-directed, without any particular center. They were each pieces of the mind that emerged when they meditated. But how committed to that was Ananda?
"You are in charge, though."
Ananda looked at him calmly. "In the perceptions of outsiders, perhaps. But here? I'm the oldest. I have the most experience. My thoughts carry some weight. When our minds are apart I have certain authority. But when we are connected… the group mind contains me. I'm just one part of it. The decisions it makes are wiser and more just than the ones I can make alone. The insights it can glean and the truths it can reveal are deeper than those I can glimpse alone. I respect that. I am a piece of this, not its master."
Kade nodded to himself again.
"What you're working towards… Is it just for monks?" he asked. "Just for meditation?"
"For anyone who can master it. For any purpose they can put it to."
"Anyone?" Kade asked.
Ananda looked back at him impassively. "Anyone."
"But mastering it takes practice," Kade said. "It takes effort. Hours of meditation every day, for months – years."
"Yes."
"So this won't ever be in reach of most people
."
"It's in reach of them, if they but expend the effort to grasp it."
Kade shook his head. "I mean, practically speaking, most people aren't going to meditate for hours each day."
Ananda nodded slowly. "True. Most will not be willing to expend the effort."
"And if there were a shortcut?"
"A shortcut such as the one that you have taken?" Ananda asked.
Kade nodded. "Something like that."
Ananda gazed at him, considering. "How long did it take you to learn to read?"
The question surprised Kade. "A year or two, I suppose."
"And to speak?" Ananda asked.
"Maybe two years?" Kade ventured.
"Imagine," Ananda said, "a world where it took most of a lifetime to learn to speak, to learn to read or write, where many never even reached that point."
Kade closed his eyes, tried to picture it.
"Imagine that you could show people a faster way," Ananda continued. "That in a year or two you could show them the basics of language, of literacy."
Kade imagined.
"Would you do it?" Ananda asked.
"Yes," Kade replied.
"Even though it would surely be used at times for profanity or vile speech?"
"Yes."
"Even though fools might read dangerous things written by bigger fools, might follow their instructions and hurt themselves or others?"
"Yes," Kade replied.
"Even though writing might be used to describe weapons that could be used to kill others?" Ananda asked.
"Yes," Kade said.
"Even though charismatic fascists might use the power of speech to stir people up, to incite violence, to stoke hatred, to create war?"
Kade swallowed. "Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I think people would use it for more good than harm."
"Is that the only reason?"
"And because I think it's just good. It's just good for people to be able to communicate more easily. It's just good for people to be smarter, to be more connected, to have access to more of each others' thoughts."
"Then you have my answer."
The old monk rose smoothly to his feet and padded silently out of the great hall.
Kade sat there alone, for long minutes, intensely aware of the weight of the fob on the chain around his neck. Eventually he rose painfully, crutched his way slowly out of the hall, and went to see if anything was left of dinner.
46
CALM BEFORE THE STORM
Becker got the call from Pryce less than an hour after the meeting ended. The President had approved the plan, with the conditions she had specified.
"Don't screw it up," Pryce told him.
Becker hung up and called the Boca Raton with the news. They were in business.
In his room, Kade turned off all net connectivity on his slate, then slowly eased the chain over his neck and slid the fob into place.
The fob drew power from the slate. It came alive in his mind, opened itself to his Nexus, connected him to the slate. A Nexus interface card. The one they'd printed for Wats, no doubt.
And on the same fob, data storage. A script. The sort of script he'd expected.
He lay back, and began to copy the Nexus files from his mind to the fob. He made a few small changes along the way, just in case.
Satisfied, he pulled it from the slate, hung it around his neck once more, let the slate connect to the net again, and lay down to sleep until Shu arrived.
• • • •
Su-Yong Shu said goodbye to the final guests at the VIP reception. It was nearly 11pm. The conference was ended. The post-conference workshops were ended. The post-workshop final reception was ended. Finally she could attend to important matters.
The black Opal rolled into sight. Feng got out, pulled open the door, lifted the umbrella against the night rain. Time to go.
"Stand by for flight operations," came the voice from the bridge.
Nichols watched nervously.
"Flight deck opening," said the bridge. "Flight elevators 1 and 2 engaging."
On the foredeck of the Boca Raton, nearly a third of the length of the hull was retracting, radar and sonar absorbent panels receding into the ship's belly, then sliding slowly and smoothly to the side to reveal the full forty-meter length of the forward combat deck, now configured entirely for flight operations.
Slowly, two fully fueled, armed, and loaded XH-83 Banshee stealth assault helicopters rose up into view. Each carried a pilot and six heavily armed and augmented Navy SEALs. The helicopters' folded-in rotors began to unfold into flight configuration. On the deck, their engine whine would be audible now, as their systems warmed up.
Fueling hoses decoupled from each chopper with a puff of out-gassed steam. Weapons checks completed, green across the board. Engines, green. Stealth, green. Electronic warfare, green. Nav, green. Flight, green.
The rotors locked into their fully expanded configuration.
"Go for rotor spin up," the bridge voice said.
They began to spin, lazily at first, then faster, then faster still. Downdraft flattened the seas to either side of the ship.
"Three seconds to clamp release. Two… One…"
The deck clamps released the landing gear of the choppers. As one, they rose up and forward, into the night sky.
"Banshees away," the bridge said. "C&C, you have the ball."
"Roger that, Bridge," Jane Kim replied. "C&C has the ball. C&C out."
In the air, the Banshees began to retract their landing gear. With the landing gear pulled in, the choppers would be nearly invisible to radar. Their chameleonware underbellies would make them blend into the dark sky to ground observers. It was midnight. The two choppers would fly low and fast, five meters off the surface, make their target around 1am, and be back with Lane and Cataranes a little after 2 o'clock.
"End flight operations," came from the bridge. "Elevators 1 and 2 to bays. Stealth hull closure in three… two… one…"
The radar and sonar absorbent hull of the great ship began to close over the combat hull once more.
Shu reclined in the plush rear seat of the Opal, slate in hand, following up on conversations and business from the conference and post-conference workshops. Sometimes she wondered why she came to these things.
They were almost to Ananda's mountain sanctuary, starting the winding trip up the mountain road. She'd been here only once before. Ananda's monks were of great interest to her. The abilities of a properly trained human mind never ceased to amaze her, even now. What they could do if they combined the best of her knowledge and Ananda's training methods…
Feng was suddenly alert. Something had caught his interest. Something had buffeted the car slightly, like a burst of wind.
He tapped a button on the console, muted the Brahms he'd had playing for her.
"What is it?" she asked.
The Confucian Fist didn't answer. Instead he killed the petrol engine, let the car coast on batteries, hit a button to lower the windows.
He's listening for something, she thought. She knew better than to interrupt him at such a moment. She felt for the contents of his thoughts, subtly, so as not to distract him.
Feng tapped another key. The windshield became a display. Infrared, she read from him.
There. On the display. Two faint red spots. Fainter than a human body. But elevated, above the ground. Receding, away and up. And in Feng's superhuman hearing, the faintest hint of the whup-whup-whup of rotors.
"Helicopters," he said aloud. "Stealthed. Heading where we are."
Shu felt a chill.
"Could they be Thai?" She knew the answer as she voiced the question.
Feng shook his head. "No. Chinese, EU, or American."
How long? She read the answer in Feng's mind. Five minutes until the choppers reached the monastery on current course and speed. Ten if they slowed over the mountain to come in silently.
She opened to her higher self. The ligh
t and power of her massive intellect coursed through her. She absorbed all knowledge of American military helicopters. Chinese Ministry of National Defense databases opened to her, showed her the known and suspected positions of all American forces, their capabilities. So… an American ship might possibly be in the Gulf of Thailand?
