by Ted Peters
Members of the group expressed satisfaction as they felt the miniature treasure and passed it along. Chang demanded their attention and introduced a new member of the planning committee.
“I’m Wu Phee Seng, from Beijing,” he said as he stood. He was unusually diminutive, short and skinny with a burr hair cut and glasses. “You Westerners may reverse it to Phee Seng Wu. I’m with the China Aerospace Corporation. The CSAC along with the China National Space Administration or CNSA are state-owned companies. Indirectly, I represent the government of the Peoples Republic of China. It is a pleasure to be present with you today.” He sat and smiled.
“I have invited Dr. Wu to join us,” said Chair Chang, “so he can help us with the transmission portion of our project. We plan to make use of NASA’s satellite system for our communications. Dr. Wu will provide the expertise we need to negotiate with NASA and set up the system.” All those around the table nodded in mini-bows. Dr. Wu responded in kind.
“Why not simply attach our TaiCom transmission capacity to a Chinese satellite?” asked Sharma. “Why NASA?”
Doctor Wu smiled with a knowing almost condescending smile. “Let me explain in strictest confidence. In order to secure our cryptography from surveillance, hacking, or piracy, we are using quantum transmissions. Perhaps you have heard of ‘entanglement,’ what Albert Einstein called ‘spooky’ action at a distance? When photons are entangled, what happens to one photon also happens to the other no matter how far apart they are. There is no causal connection. That’s why the great physicist thought this is spooky. The Chinese Academy of Sciences in collaboration with the Austrian Academy of Sciences has put a satellite into orbit that can transmit two quantum signals to two locations a thousand miles apart, independently and simultaneously. Each quantum transmission will be unique but with one and only one duplicate, the duplicate available to the monitor. At Mr. Chang’s invitation, I am here to offer this technology to TaiCom.”
“There is no way the Chinese government will allow us to use their most advanced quantum key distribution,” interjected Chang. “So, we are inviting the very scientist who developed it, Dr. Wu, to work for us and to provide an upgraded version for the NASA satellite. Because we are paying NASA, we will get what we want.” A gasp could be heard around the table.
“Unfortunately, Lily Yang will not be with us this morning,” continued Chang. “Taking her place is Kang Yen Yen. You may call her Yen Yen.” Turning to the new employee, Chang added, “Thank you, Yen Yen, for coming on such short notice.”
The new receptionist bowed delicately, then departed to prepare the tea.
“Over the weekend I spent considerable private time in conversation with Dr. Bourne. I am pleased to report that we have devised a plan and a timetable for developing a scalable implant surgical procedure.”
“Yes,” said Geraldine Bourne. “I will arrange for experiments on DNA sampling and implantation procedures at my laboratory and hospital in Canada. I believe we can safely agree to begin implanting at scale by September 1. If I should run into unforeseen difficulties, then we’ll stretch it to October 1. In the meantime, I believe you all can identify the first recipients and make appointments.”
The group applauded, exhibiting high spirits.
“Who will be our guinea pigs?” asked Sharma.
“We have already established proof of concept and have successfully implanted versions of our chip in actual guinea pigs and, of course, Mister Lo,” said Chang. “What we need now is to establish two further things: first, can we avoid immune rejection with our matching DNA plan? And, second, will our implants lead to just the right neural circuitry? Only further human trial can answer these questions.”
“I mean: which human beings will we test?” asked Sharma.
“Ah. Good question. We will limit our human subject pool to a very select market: spies.”
“Spies?” gasped the group.
“Yes, spies. If anybody is ready for IA and willing to pay for it on a gamble, it will be espionage organizations. Here’s our starting list: M15 and M16 in the UK; the Canadian Security Intelligence Service or CSIS; the Australian Security Intelligence Organisation or ASIO; France’s Direction Generale de la Securité Exterieure or DGSE; Russia’s Sluzba Vneshnei Razvedka or SVR; Germany’s Bundesnachrichtendienst or BND; the CIA and FBI, of course; and perhaps our most hungry customer, Israel’s Mossad. They will have the hunger for our products and the authority to command participation among their agents. In addition, they will take care of the monitoring for us. They know how to track a spy and garner the information we will need to watch what happens.”
John Blair was quick to add, “And we have the added benefit of competition. Once one spy organization learns that this product will be available to the others, it will not want to be left behind. We might even find ourselves in a bidding war. They’ll fight to be in on the ground floor.”
“It could become a cyber arms race,” said Buzz Kidd. “And, we’ll turn out to be the winners of the race.” His smile was matched by the victorious smiles around the table.
“If it becomes a cyber arms race,” asked Sharma, “what’s to prevent our competition from removing our implant, duplicating it, and manufacturing a competing brand?”
“We’ve thought of that,” said Chang. “The chip includes a self-destruct mechanism. As soon as the satellite discerns the chip’s surgical removal, it signals it to malfunction. By the time our competitor puts it under an electron microscope, the circuits will look like spaghetti.”
More grins of satisfaction.
Kidd offered a contribution. “What we’re doing here is taking a baby step up the long path to creating posthumans, the intelligent species which will surpass us. This will be expensive. We will need large amounts of capital. By selling this technology now, we will build up the reserves we need for future R and D.”
Heads nodded.
Chapter 28
Taipei
Khalid Neshat leaned forward and entered the conversation. “Did I hear you mention Mossad?” he said to Chang. “Has Mossad shown interest?”
“Yes, indeed,” emphasized Chang. “We have not yet begun a systematic marketing to all such organizations, but our preliminary conversations with Mossad representatives indicate a high level of interest.”
“What then would be our plan?” asked Neshat. “Would Mossad provide a handful of individuals for the clinical trial? Would Israel be the only provider?”
Kidd took over. “Here’s our strategy. Suppose we say we need twenty individuals to volunteer for the first clinical trial about September 1. This means, of course, that they will already have amplified data access and be prepared for highly sophisticated operations. We will have instantly created a cadre of super-spies. Our buyers will be motivated to pay just for the clinical trial opportunity. We might even expect some buyers to cough up extra dollars for the privilege of being the only contract, providing all twenty guinea pigs. An exclusive contract, so to speak. That’s what Coke does to Pepsi, and vice versa. We can capitalize on spy jealously.”
“Is Mossad likely to outbid the CIA?” asked Neshat.
“It could happen,” responded Kidd. “Let’s go fishing with our idea and see who bites.”
“Before we continue much longer on this topic, let me remind you of what’s coming.” Chang took the chair again. “In two weeks, on Thursday afternoon and evening, we’ll reconvene at NASA Ames in Mountain View, California. I believe you already have the details. Yen Yen will provide each of you with your invitation and security credential on the way out. Buzz’s friend Alan Kurz will host us on behalf of TTU, Transhumanist Technical University; and Chris MacDonald will host us on behalf of NASA. It will be a splendid event. And, we will move our entire project along. See you in California.”
As chairs slid and bodies meandered toward the conference room exit, Neshat approached Wu. “If you need a partner in setting up the satellite transmission component, I’m willing to help. I’m a quantum
specialist.”
“Thanks. Please remind me of your name. Doctor...?”
“Neshat. I’m Dr. Khalid Neshat.”
“I look forward to working together.”
Chapter 29
Chicago
The parsonage porch just off South Burnham Avenue in Chicago was crowded. Midnight the black cat sat regally on the door threshold surveying her kingdom. Pastor Leona Foxx sat on the top step, petting Buck the Siberian Husky who lay unmoving so as to not disturb the affection. Cupid, the six year old girl who lived three doors north on South Burnham, sat like Sitting Bull helping the pastor to pet the dog. Jerry Talin leaned on the fence; he looked vacuously away from the assembly toward infinity.
Hillar Talin sat on the bottom step concentrating on his laptop, furiously moving his fingers from key to key. Graham Washington bent forward, looking over Hillar’s shoulder to watch his movements on the screen.
A moment earlier the lounging porch party had noticed the approach from the northeast of what at first appeared to be a small object in the sky. As it drew closer, it became clear that a drone was surveying this South Shore neighborhood.
“I think it’s a quadracopter with an HD camera,” said Hillar to the group. He continued to monitor the interploper’s location and movement on his screen. “Now, I can find out if it really works.”
“If what works, Hillar?” asked Graham.
“My radio interception device. I’ve been working on it in my garage. I plan to knock anything out of the sky guided electronically,” he announced with the confidence of Mark Zuckerberg.
“How does it work?” quizzed Graham.
“First, I scan with radar to see if any electronic waves are pulsing in the area. Then, I jam ’im. I make them malfunction. Nobody’s gonna spy on me?”
“For the sake of Bridgeport, Quaz, what do you have to hide?” asked Leona.
“Why are you still calling me Quaz?” protested Hillar.
“Because I always liked Quasimodo, and I like you too.”
Hillar frowned. “I’ve got nuth’n to hide, of course. It’s the principle of the whole thing. Nobody’s gonna spy in our neighborhood. I wanna outsmart the smarties. This is a reality video game. This is war!”
For the first time, Jerry turned to look at the group. Then his expressionless face turned away again.
The invading drone had crossed to the west side of Burhnam and was flying slowly over the Trinity Church parking lot at a height just above the maple trees. The drone seemed to be studying the parsonage porch assembly.
“Watch this,” exclaimed Hillar. “It’s my first real test.” The teenager pressed a computer button.
The quadracopter’s engines sputtered. The craft twisted ninety degrees and dropped to one side. Then the engines shut down. It fell into on to the parking lot black top with a clacking sound. Hillar walked over to pick it up. Then, he walked back toward the porch holding the crashed drone high, looking like a fisherman who had just caught a large mouth black bass.
“Now, you’ve got a problem, Hillar,” announced Graham. “Whoever flew that drone has taken your picture. They’ll come looking for you.”
“Bring ’m on!” muttered the teenager.
Chapter 30
Chicago
Leona along with Noel Freeman stared at the computer screen image attached to the electron microscope. This state of the art microscope belonged to the research division of the University of Chicago Medicine Center in Hyde Park. It was midnight. The hospital hall lights were low, even though the interior of their research lab was well lit.
“Here is where your Chinese friend severed the circuit,” said Doctor Freeman, pointing to a spot on the screen with her pencil point. “See the break?”
“If I put this chip in my own brain, Noel, will it make me smarter?” asked Leona.
Noel laughed. “Nothing like this can make you smarter. It might give you access to information, but it won’t increase your IQ. Anyway, Lee, you’re already too smart for your own good.”
“Thanks for the compliment, but I want to become my own guinea pig. Could we experiment by implanting the chip in my own brain?”
“Why in the world would you want to do that?”
“Because, for the sake of Brooklyn, I want to monitor what the TaiCom syndicate is doing. I would like to gain access to TaiCom transmissions, but I want to avoid any impairment of my own reasoning capacity. I don’t want to lose my mental independence.”
“If we wired it to your pre-frontal cortex, you should be able to read the chip but make your own decisions regarding its content. If we place it just right, you will maintain your own mental control.”
“It must be patient-specific, you know,” said Leona. “It’s gotta connect with my DNA without rejection.”
“Yes, of course,” said Noel nodding. “That’ll be automatic the way I implant it. No problem. But, Leona, as your friend and as a neurosurgeon, I hesitate to recommend such a treatment if it’s not going to be therapeutic.”
“This is not therapy for me. It’s therapy for the world, so to speak. I gotta get inside the TaiCom mind without TaiCom getting inside my mind.”
The two women refilled their coffee cups and stared at one another.
“Do you believe in brain-mind identity?” Leona asked her friend in the white lab coat.
“No, I don’t. Here in the lab or in surgery I am a scientist. I think scientifically. I think rationally. I am utterly impersonal, dispassionate, logical, and systematic. But, as you know, I also write poetry. There is nothing scientific about poetry. So, when I’m ready to be a poet, I tell my brain to shut off the science and open up room for poetic thinking. Did you get that: I tell my brain what to do. My brain does not tell me what to do. I give my brain orders and my brain obeys.”
“If my mind is more than my brain, then there is no risk that this brain implant will overtake my mind, right?”
“Well, sorta. Your mind can’t do without your brain, obviously. So, I think it may depend on just how we connect the implant. If we wire it to the prefrontal cortex, I believe you’ll get just what you’re asking for.”
“You believe?”
“I can’t be sure.”
“Why can’t you be sure?”
“Medicine is an art, Leona, not a science.”
“But you just said that you’re a scientist as a neurosurgeon.”
“There’s more than one meaning of science, Leona. You know that.”
Leona paused. “Yes, of course. What do you think are the chances that we’ll get it right?”
“Very good. And, if it doesn’t work, just come back and I’ll remove the implant. Don’t worry.”
“Now, who is talking to me: the scientist or the poet?”
Chapter 31
Chicago
The memorial service was scheduled for 11:00am.
It was now 10:00am in Chicago. Graham sat upright in the La-Z-Boy in Leona’s living room, in the parsonage behind Trinity Church. Buck the husky sat erect on the floor, watching. Midnight the black cat sat with her tail folded under her, also watching. Cupid sat on the floor with her left arm around Buck. Her face registered seriousness combined with bewilderment.
Hillar was stretched out on the couch with his head in Leona’s lap. His eye sockets were swollen, pink, and puffy from crying. Leona gently kneaded Hillar’s hair. Grief, sadness, and desperation hung in the air like mountain fog in the morning.
“Why? Why did he do it, Pastor Lee?” Hillar pined.
Leona continued massaging Hillar’s head in silence. Eventually she broke the silence. “Let me tell you a story, Hillar. Once when I was still a child, my mother and I stayed up late to watch a re-run on television. It was called, ‘High Noon.’ The chief character was a nineteenth century marshal played by actor Gary Cooper. He was Marshal Will Kane in Hadleyville, located in the New Mexico Territory. He had just married a woman who was a Quaker, played by Grace Kelly. That means she was committed to non-violence.
Now, get this: a Quaker marries a marshal! Can you see the plot coming?”
“Yeah, I get it,” muttered Hillar.
Graham began to sing softly, “Do not forsake me, O my darling.”
Leona’s frown shut Graham up. Then, Leona continued. “At high noon on his wedding day, a train was scheduled to arrive in Hadleyville. That train would bring four outlaws who had previously announced they were coming to kill the marshal. They wanted revenge, because the marshal had previously arrested the gang’s leader, Frank Miller. At high noon, everyone feared the town would be overrun with gun fighting.
“So, the townspeople told the marshal to get out of town. Get away! Take the violence away. And, of course, the marshal’s new wife, the Quaker named Amy, wanted him to get away as well. As you can imagine, the conscience of the marshal was torn between standing to fight and running away to avoid the fight.
“Marshal Kane and his new wife left town in their buckboard. But, then came an important moment, literally a turning point. Marshal Kane stopped the buckboard. He thought. Then, he turned around and headed back to town. Amy protested and threatened to leave him. Yet, he continued back to town to fight the bad guys.”
“Why did he go back?” asked Hillar.
“We’ll get to that in a minute, Quaz. When Kane got back to town he had to fight the gang on his own, because nobody else wanted to get mixed up in the violence. During the gun fight, Amy picked up a gun and shot one of the four. By shooting this man, Amy was declaring that her marriage to Will Kane was more important than her commitment to non-violence.
“When the movie ended, Frank Miller’s entire gang was dead. Marshal Kane threw down his marshal’s badge, ending his career in law enforcement. He and Amy drove off into the sunset, so to speak.”
