The SONG of SHIVA

by Michael Caulfield

  “Coincidentally – related to Hypothecated Modeling – Atma Pandavas is an old compeer of mine, from my Princeton days. He’s visiting this afternoon, bringing along upgrades for the HM platform.”

  “Atma Pandavas? Coming here ― today?” She hadn’t even known he was in Bangkok.

  “He’s bringing his own crew,” Tardieu explained, “to install those enhancements, supposedly a dramatic improvement in functionality. He sounds quite excited, especially about a new display apparatus the Innovac engineers have just developed. Intends to demonstrate it for the group. Would you like to attend? ”

  “I’d love to.” Not only was the master toy maker coming to town but, apparently, he was bringing the latest creations from his workshop.

  “I see no problem with your sitting in. As I understand it, Innovac has just purchased a local pharmaceutical manufacturer and Atma has come for a quick look-see. Maybe during our meeting I can mention your time-modeling suggestion and see what he thinks.”

  * * *

  “The molecular mapping data the WHO has provided was instrumental in furthering our theoretical work,” Pandavas explained. “Can’t thank you enough for your diligent efforts. With your help, we can now devote our full energy to vaccine development and improving our investigative tools.”

  Two Innovac engineers, flown in from London over the weekend, were busily assembling the new HM rendering apparatus in the middle of a large conference room.

  “Any progress we’ve made, was only possible because of your equipment,” Tardieu acknowledged.

  Lyköan watched nods circle the room. Pandavas’s generosity, of course, had required Lyköan to jump through hoops he hadn’t expected. Faster and higher. Blindfolded.

  Before the plates had been cleared from the restaurant table, he’d been whisked to this ultra-sophisticated World Health Organization lab in the middle of Bangkok. An hour ago he hadn’t known the place existed. On the ride over, Pandavas had dropped the bombshell that items in the initial Primrose delivery, released from bonding only minutes before, were expected within the hour ― right here ― and therefore had to be redirected immediately. Fortunately, he was able to pull the palettes, sidetracking the trucks in transit, and find a carrier willing to deliver them separately to Thanon Sathon Tai without paperwork, on his word only, and then schlep them up the freight elevator. They had arrived barely ten minutes before the engineers.

  Score one for Team Lyköan. His one-man operation had succeeded in this first spur-of-the-moment assignment, but it had been touch and go. Was working for Innovac always going to be like this, the boss one step ahead with a plan only he knew? Or would Lyköan eventually be brought into the loop and join the fold? Had it been another test? Keep him in the dark. Put him through his paces. Lyköan hoped it ended soon. There was a good chance he wouldn’t be so lucky next time.

  Jimmy had shrewdly decided to find more pressing demands for his questionable talents elsewhere, after consuming a three-entrée lunch at the exquisite Baan Khanitha, taking numerous interrupting phone calls during the meal and ultimately disappearing down a nameless soi before the party moved on. The remainder of the entourage, Lyköan and Whitehall included, had been deposited at the WHO downtown office entrance just before three.

  Tossed into this alien environment, where the only other remotely familiar face in the whole line-up of strangers, besides Whitehall, turned out to be Dr. Carmichael, the woman he had injured when making that backdoor exit from Whitehall’s hotel room. He cringed at the memory. No one in the room had missed their curious exchange during introductions only minutes before.

  Tardieu, noticing the flash of startled recognition, had immediately asked the obvious question, “Do you two know each other?” Lyköan’s heart had shifted into overdrive.

  “Well, we collided with each other ― literally ―” he stuttered, “― complete strangers ― two days ago ― but this is some coincidence ― running into you again like this, Doctor ― and so soon.”

  Could he forestall further inquiry, place little consequence on the event and still cling to the truth? “I hope you’ve recovered from my clumsiness,” he added, praying that no additional explanation would be necessary ― nothing that might reveal where and when this had all taken place.

  “Fully recovered, I’m happy to report,” Nora replied with an awkward smile. What was the exact definition of coincidence? With the room now filled with quizzical stares, she was happy to omit further detail. Leave the explanation for another time. Or never. It was really unimportant. No need for the details unless someone was tactless enough to ask. Nora hoped no one would. Lyköan worried someone might. Fortunately, no one did.

  Then the awkward silence broke, replaced by anticipatory small talk. A few minutes later Pandavas took center stage and everyone’s attention shifted. Lyköan breathed easier. The danger had passed.

  “As soon as the engineers finish calibrating the equipment,” Pandavas began and the room hushed, “we’ll bring up the most recent and complete depiction of the virus.

  “While they do, a little background. As most of you know, standard holographic 3D imaging can project approximately two hundred degrees of observable surface area. Convinced that such limitations were too restrictive, we set about developing what we are calling an Implicit Projection Display, allowing for a full 360 degrees of simultaneous presentation.”

  Two large chromed metal rings, one suspended just below the ceiling and the other hovering about a meter from the floor, floated horizontally in the center of the room. Seeing no wires or visible supports, Lyköan assumed the suspension somehow involved magnets. The rings were being adjusted from two workstation panels positioned across from each other, just outside the lower ring.

  Hundreds of powerful pulsing lights, emitting distinct but overlapping multicolored beams into the interior space, rapidly circled counterclockwise on the upper ring and clockwise on the lower. Adjusting the beams until they converged in a single column of light running vertically between the rings’ centers, the engineers narrowed the increasingly brilliant column until it had become a thin line shining with the intensity of an unshielded acetylene torch. With a flicker and audible ‘vzzzit’ the line shrank into a single point of painful brilliance, hanging like a miniature sun in the very center of the otherwise empty space, and then vanished. Looking up, the engineers pronounced the equipment calibrated for the demonstration. Circling the lower ring, one of engineers then took a position behind the second workstation. Taking his mark, Pandavas positioned himself in front of the glow of the now vacated second station.

  “Peter,” he said to the seated engineer, “the single viral sphere at seventy percent incandescence, if you would.”

  The room filled with an audible intake of breaths, like the sound emitted by a crowd following an exceptionally brilliant burst at a fireworks display, hushed gasps filling the space in unison, every eye but two fixed upon the object now hovering between floor and ceiling. Lyköan’s eyes, however, had locked on the ringmaster, observing the sparkle gleaming there, reflected in every eye of his enthralled audience. In the whole room, only Lyköan had witnessed this other performance: a campfire-lit glee that might have crept across a barbarian chieftain’s face surveying a field of enemy slain after a hard-won victory.

  Among the slain, Nora stood utterly transfixed. There, in a state of frozen animation, suspended at the very center of the room, between the shining rings, floated the TAI virus, enlarged perhaps three million times. Not a three dimensional representation depicted in two dimensions on a flat panel screen, but an apparently solid, tangible three-dimensional object.

  Pandavas took out an ordinary-looking lightpen from his jacket and shined it on the surface of the meter-in-diameter model. The pen’s ember rippled over the variegated surface of the sphere. Through some magic of technology, this specialized pointing device, an integral part of the new display technology, permitted light to dance off light in an optical choreography of mathematical illusi
on.

  “As you can see from this particular angle,” Pandavas began, “the viral sphere is complete in every detail ― from every conceivable angle. If any of you circle the static image, this will immediately become evident. Of course, the operator still has complete latitude to manipulate the object within the depiction perimeter. There are also several improvements to the upgraded software. The first is the ability to unbundle any of the molecular constructs, unwind the RNA strand in this case, then construct and observe chemical interactions and protein expressions ― down to the atomic level if desired.”

  He's got them in the palm of his hand, right where he wants them, Lyköan thought. Sure seems to love the adoration. Left unassesed for now, however, was whether that was a good, bad, or indifferent thing.

  “To begin that process,” Pandavas instructed, “Peter, please extract the RNA strand from the protein sheath,” The outer coat of the virus was pulled back from the now medicine-ball-sized model, much like the cover might be torn off a baseball, and a rainbow-colored, spaghetti-like lump was magically extracted from the ruptured sphere. A few keystrokes then unraveled the bundled mass and, through the power of embedded algorithmic formulae and raw computational power, magnified and pulled out straight and horizontal, hovering midway between the parallel rings.

  “Now, if you would, proceed along the strand, either direction,” Pandavas directed. The operating engineer manipulated the controls so the now hundred-centimeter-thick model of the RNA strand swept across the display field at a leisurely pace. Lyköan noticed that, at a crisp point one or two centimeters from the inner edge of an imaginary vertical line between the two rings, the model abruptly disappeared in the direction it was moving as, at the other end, additional multi-colored extensions of the model just as abruptly appeared out of nowhere. He had only the vaguest understanding of what he was witnessing, but was no less impressed than the gathered scientists appeared to be.

  After the demonstration had continued for some time Yin Yat Chen mustered enough courage to ask Pandavas the first question. “Dr. Pandavas, if there’s time, would it be possible to display the RNA segment,” she asked, pausing to refer to her notebook, “beginning with the sequence TAGCCAG that we’ve identified as TAI143LV0000361?”

  “Certainly. Peter,” Pandavas directed, turning towards the operator, “would you input those coordinates? TAI143LV0000361, I believe?” Looking back to Chan, he then asked with obvious interest, “And your reason for suggesting we take a look at that particular segment?”

  “We’ve discovered an intriguing protein-expressing portion of the strand at that location which seems to act as an anti-telomerase antibody, turning off the virus’s ability to replicate. But it appears to require some sort of triggering agent for activation. We can’t explain why it’s there, nor do we know what the activating agent might be. Maybe you have some thoughts?”

  “Really? Well, let’s have a look, shall we? I must admit what you’re describing sounds intriguing, if you’ve really identified its function correctly. I haven’t heard anything from our research team. An organism with an internalized extinction function would be, to my knowledge, unique in nature.”

  Nora couldn’t help thinking about the two critically ill patients back in Atlanta. Might this exchange herald a glimmer of hope for them? If so, maybe she could transmit a suggestion in her next communiqué and raise some spirits at the CDC.

  At the same instant, Lyköan was wondering, Yeah, yeah, very interesting, boys and girls, but I’ve got other things to attend to right now and they’re important too. While this dazzling lightshow may be real interesting to all these scientific masterminds, this dog and pony show is of absolutely no help for me getting my job done.

  He tried getting Whitehall’s attention with a glance. No luck. Whitehall may have noticed the attempt, but he wasn’t about to interrupt this command performance. That could wait at least until after the final curtain call.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Infinite Palimpsest

  Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who only dream by night.

  Edgar Allan Poe : Leonora

  The demonstration had ended, but most of the audience remained, coalescing into ever tightening circles of conversation. Not unexpectedly, the largest group surrounded Pandavas and included Nora and Tardieu. Cool drafts blew out of ceiling vents, but the air was still hot and thick, a faint odor of ozone and electronic circuitry hanging in the air.

  Tardieu had button-holed Pandavas and, as he had promised, was interceding on Nora’s behalf. “Doctor Carmichael has suggested ― and I think it’s a brilliant idea ― that we might attempt to direct the next series of mutational algorithms towards predicting when the virus is likely to reemerge. If we're successful, we’ll not only have the histological template, but a timeframe as well. Do you think that’s possible, Atma?”

  “Possible?” Pandavas mused, considering the idea. “More than likely. It would require splicing additional metrics into the existing formulae and writing thousands of lines of new code, but if we're successful, we would then have a target in time. It might take some time to integrate and test the math, but it’s a reasonable hypothesis. Intriguing. And this was your idea, Dr. Carmichael?”

  Nora nodded, satisfied that Pandavas appeared open to her suggestion. “It seemed like such an obvious question. Knowing a specific date, we’d be able to craft countermeasures based on the deadline imposed.”

  “Why yes, of course,” Pandavas agreed. “I’ll contact our people, the team that developed the original algorithms. They’ll have a much better idea how extensive a codec alteration will be needed ― and more importantly, I think ― how much time and what resources will be required.”

  Out of the blue, a deflating suspicion crossed Nora’s mind ― one that ran completely counter to the current of the conversation. She had no idea what had prompted it. Some territorial instinct perhaps. While Pandavas might be a scientist first, he was also a consummate businessman.

  Could it possibly be, Doctor, she wondered, that with thousands of corporate scientists at your disposal, redirecting a few to placate me right now might pay huge dividends to Innovac later on?

  Innovac’s working on the TAI virus anyway, right? Sure. Do Carmichael this little favor. Stroke her obviously inflated ego. What does she know about Hypothecated Modeling? And someday, if and when the Innovac Empire needs a quick approval ― say from the FDA ― maybe you call in the marker?

  Am I being too suspicious? I don’t think so. Corporate chieftains are always thinking, planning dozens of moves and years ahead.

  While the air of suspicion was escaping from Nora’s ego, Lyköan and Whitehall were off by themselves in an otherwise empty corner, carrying on a discrete dialog, their anxious eyes darting about the room.

  “Ah, there’s the rub,” Whitehall said, in voice barely above a whisper. “The people we really should be watching weren’t here for the Pandavas vaudeville performance, perhaps by design. Could be a bit of magical misdirection, allowing the Thai authorities to further their intentions while we’re being otherwise entertained.”

  “If we could only listen in on Jimmy’s phone conversations,” Lyköan said, giving voice to a longstanding wish. “I bet that would tell us plenty.”

  “You realize, Lyköan, that’s not completely impossible.”

  “What, bug his double-bud? How?”

  “Very discretely, of course,” Whitehall explained. “The most cunning encryption is no match for a really tenacious code-breaker.”

  “You got a cryptographer on the payroll?”

  “Hired and already hard at work,” Whitehall replied. “A word to the wise though, lad ― for your own protection. If you haven’t already begun transmitting all your sensitive info via hard-wire lines and even then, only if you’re certain the line is secure, I'd highly recommend you begin doing so.”

  Was Whitehall suggesting Lyköan’s past transmissions had been intercepted, a
lready been compromised? Before he could ask, a flicker in Whitehall’s eyes warned of someone’s approach.

  “Am I interrupting a palace plot, gentlemen?” Julie Prentice asked good-naturedly, adding a conspiratorial wink, both eyes displaying a feral glint that Lyköan did not find at all unappealing, “or are you just hiding in this corner to escape the old man’s blathering? In either case, your secret’s safe with me.” Prentice sidled closer. Pursuing the potential Primrose security breach discussion would have to wait.

  “Have to admit, that was quite a show,” Lyköan managed calmly, adding, “But we underlings still have our own chores to get to if we intend to stay in his majesty’s good graces. While the boss is otherwise occupied, maybe we can get some actual work done.”

  “Such as?” Prentice asked.

  “For starters, the rest of the Innovac shipments still sitting dockside,” Lyköan answered. “Be nice to know if any other items from those containers might be earmarked for the WHO.” Out of the corner of his eye he watched Gordon and Narayan approach. A transitory thought crossed his mind, that those two might be more dangerous than the luscious Ms. Prentice or any plot she might be thinking of hatching.

  “I can help you with that, Lyköan,” Gordon said, entering the circle of conversation uninvited. “Atma wants four of the ten new database servers delivered and installed right here, by tomorrow afternoon – at the latest. These two old college chums think they’re onto something sure to solve this TAI virus mystery by week’s end. Maybe tomorrow.” Lyköan caught Gordon’s obvious sarcasm. “While we jump through every conceivable flaming hoop seeing they do.”

  We? You mean ME, don’t you? Lyköan thought. But what emerged from his mouth was, “Just as long as somebody tells me how high to jump. Or am I supposed to already know?” He could tolerate the insipid banter if it kept a slavering new boss’s teeth out of his tender throat.