by David Archer
They chatted for a few more minutes, and then Sam ended that call and called his wife.
“They tell me we’re all finished here this morning,” he said, “so we’ll be flying out in about an hour. With any luck, I’ll be there in time for lunch. Don’t let Harry eat it all, I’ll be hungry.”
“Don’t worry,” Indie said, “Harry already said he’s buying a couple of buckets of chicken. There should be plenty for everybody. How’s your thigh?”
“It’s sore, but not terribly so. I can walk on it without much trouble. My hip gives me a lot more problem than it does, but I’m used to that.”
“And Doctor Hu? Have you talked to her lately?”
“Yeah, turns out the bullet didn’t really do any kind of damage. She’s up on her feet, and will be released from the hospital today or tomorrow. She’s looking forward to starting work with CerebroLink, although Doctor Prentiss says they are cutting back on some of their plans. The gen-5 chip is being scaled back to limit what it can do, and they’re going to be concentrating more on the genuine medical benefits of the technology.”
“Did Harry talk to you about testifying to Congress? He says there’s a good chance they’re going to outlaw any developments like what happened with Joel.”
“They might, at least as far as the civilian world knows, but I’m sure DARPA will keep working on it. It’s just not sensible to believe that the rest of the world’s going to give it up if we do. I just hope they’ll put some kind of failsafes into it so that we don’t end up with another false god trying to take over the world.”
“Yeah,” Indie said. “Once is enough.”
They pledged their love to each other the way they always did, and then Sam rode the elevator down to the restaurant at the hotel for his final breakfast in California. Summer, Jade, Denny, Walter, and Steve were all waiting for him and waved him over. Darren would actually be spending another week in the hospital before he could come home.
“Ready to get out of here?” Steve asked.
“More than you can imagine,” Sam replied. “I’ve never cared a lot for California, and this case has definitely reinforced my lack of desire to return. I’m more than happy in Denver, and I just hope I get to stay there for a while when I get home.”
“I like parts of it,” Summer said. “The sun definitely shines a lot here. I’ve been laying out by the pool every chance I got, and I’m finally getting my tan looking good.”
“Bitch,” Jade said. “Your tan couldn’t look bad if it tried. Now, me, I have to wear so much sunscreen that the only tan I ever get comes out of a bottle. Life just isn’t fair.”
“Too much time in the sun can give you skin cancer,” Walter said. “That’s not good for you.”
“Hey,” Summer said, “Walter, don’t rain on my parade. I like the sun, it makes me feel good.”
“I, for one, am looking forward to getting back to the mile-high city,” Denny said. “I don’t mind California, but a guy can only take so much of getting blown up and shot at and beaten before he’s ready for a bloody vacation, right? I’m giving you notice now, Sam, I’m taking a week off as soon as we get home.”
“That sounds like a pretty good idea for everyone,” Sam said. “How about it? A week off, to celebrate a successful conclusion to this case?”
All of them raised their coffee cups into the air, and the motion carried unanimously.
*
“Do I look all right?” Sam asked.
“You look fine, Sam, boy,” Harry said. “Stop fussing. This isn’t a job interview or a date, it’s a bunch of stuffed shirts who want Johnny Public to think they give a damn about his safety. You just sit there and answer their questions, and don’t let them twist your words around to mean something other than what you said. Trust me, Congress critters are good at that kind of thing.”
A door opened and a page stuck her head out. “Mr. Prichard? Senator Ryan says they’re ready for you.”
Sam took a deep breath. “Here goes,” he said. He followed the page through the door, with Harry right behind him. She led them down to the big table that sat in front of the impaneled senators and congressmen, and pointed at the chairs they were to sit in. They stood in front of the chairs for a moment as the sergeant-at-arms approached and stood before Sam.
“Raise your right hand,” he said, and Sam did so. “Do you solemnly swear that the testimony you are about to give to this committee is true and complete to the best of your knowledge, and that your written testimony already submitted is also true and complete to the best of your knowledge?”
“I do,” Sam said. The sergeant-at-arms turned and walked away without a word, and Sam and Harry sat down.
Sam had been called to testify before a joint congressional committee that was investigating the impact of BCI technology in the aftermath of the events that had taken place in California. The chairman of the committee was Senator Ryan, who was seated in the middle of the panel table.
Ryan looked down at Sam, then turned his eyes to Harry. “Harry Winslow,” he said. “How have you been, you old goat?”
“I’ve been well, lately, Fred,” Harry said. “Ever since I retired, as a matter of fact. Got myself out of reach of you political fatcats.”
Ryan chuckled. “Good to see you again, Harry. Are you here officially?”
Harry shook his head. “Friend of the Congress, although I’m more a friend of the witness. I’m along for moral support and to keep you bastards from badgering this poor guy.”
Ryan, still grinning, said, “Let the record show that Mr. Winslow is referring to the witness, Samuel Wayne Prichard. Harry, from what I know of Sam Prichard, he doesn’t need you to protect him.” He turned his eyes toward Sam and nodded politely. “Mr. Prichard,” he said. “This committee appreciates you taking the time to come and speak with us. If you will permit, I’d like to cut right to the chase.”
“That would suit me fine, senator,” Sam said.
“Mr. Prichard, we have read your written testimony and, to be perfectly honest, I think we all found it rather frightening. The events and situations you describe sound like a Hollywood blockbuster suspense movie, more than a case of industrial espionage gone wrong. I think the main focus of our questioning is going to be on the statements you made regarding the potential dangers of this technology. Is that all right with you?”
“Yes, senator, that’s fine.”
“Very well, then,” Ryan said. “I’m going to open the panel for questions, and I believe Senator Gordon has the first question. Senator Gordon?”
Sam looked at the balding man who leaned forward. Senator Arthur Gordon was an old man, and had spent the last twenty years in his seat. It was said that he knew enough about everyone else in Congress to ensure that they would always go along with him, if he really wanted them to.
“Mr. Prichard,” he began. “In your written testimony, you describe Mr. Streeter as, and let me quote, ‘a likable young man with delusions of messianic destiny.’ You go on to delineate his actions in acquiring the stolen prototype chip, and his subsequent actions with it, but you were quite vague on his motives. Could you elaborate on his motivation for this committee?”
“I can tell you the things he said to me,” Sam said. “He claimed that he had looked around the world and seen, as he put it, that our nations were all run by lunatics who care more about their own power bases than they do about their citizens. He said he saw that many nations had people who were starving, while others were wasting or refusing to grow the food that could feed them. He believed that he was somehow destined to save the world from its own folly, by putting what he thought was a purely logical mind—his own—in control. What he failed to see, though, was that his arguments were completely illogical, and that he was following in the footsteps of so many previous messiahs who have done far more harm than good by trying to impose their will on the people.”
“So his motives, then, you believe were genuinely altruistic?”
“Abs
olutely not,” Sam said. “I said those were the motives that he claimed, but my own experience with him led me to believe that he was deluding himself. In reality, I believe, Joel Streeter simply wanted to be the biggest and baddest kid on the block. By taking that chip and perverting what it was designed for into something that would give him almost invincible power over the rest of the world, he had every intention of trying to make himself a god, ruling the world forever.”
“Forever? That seems…”
Ryan interrupted. “Senator Gordon, I believe it’s Congresswoman Janssen’s turn.”
Gordon scowled, but nodded. The congresswoman leaned forward toward her microphone and smiled at Sam. “To be honest, I want to hear more about this, myself. He said he wanted to rule the world forever? How did he plan to do that?”
“By becoming somewhat immortal. According to the developers of the technology, we are not far from the point where it will be possible to literally copy yourself into a computer and thereby achieve a form of immortality. Joel planned to make many copies and scatter them throughout the world, so that he would always be the foundation of this godhead he was trying to create. Even though he would eventually pass away from old age or illness, the computer copies of his personality would theoretically continue to think and act as he would have done if he were still alive.”
“Oh, how terrible,” the congresswoman said. “Although, I can see some possible benefits of having the ability to copy yourself that way.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Sam said. “The developers talk about the fact that it would potentially allow people to keep a kind of contact with loved ones who have passed away.”
“Yes, and it might also be of benefit to governments, because we could keep elder statesman around for consultation.” She grinned. “I don’t think we want them holding office, though. I think mortality should be a firm part of term limits in politics.”
There were several more questions. Sam was asked about potential military applications, the medical benefits, and just about anything else the politicians could think of to ask. In some cases, Sam had to reply that the answer was classified, because the hearing was being broadcast live. In those cases, though, he had come prepared with printed explanations of those topics that he presented to the sergeant-at-arms to be passed to the committee members. They thanked him for his foresight.
Finally it was over, and Sam and Harry were able to leave. They were driven directly back to the airport, where the little Cessna jet was waiting for them. The pilots were ready and the plane was in the air only moments after they climbed inside, and Sam and Harry arrived back at Sam’s house at just before seven.
Sam parked the Mustang in the driveway, and he and Harry walked up the steps and into the house. Sam was surprised to find that he had a house full of guests, because he found Ron, Jeff, Steve, Walter, Denny, Summer, and Jade sitting around his living room, along with both his mother and Indie’s.
“We hope you don’t mind, mate,” Denny said. “Your bride invited us all.”
Sam put his arm around Indie, pulled her close, kissed her on the cheek, and smiled. “Not a bit,” he said. “There’s nothing I love more than showing this little beauty off.”
Ron Thomas grinned and raised his glass toward Indie. “You are indeed a lucky man, Sam,” he said. “I have often said that your lovely wife looks like a cheerleader at the high school football game.”
“Aww,” Indie said, “that’s so sweet. Wasn’t that sweet, Sam?”
“Absolutely, thank you, Ron,” Sam said.
“Oh, it wasn’t all a compliment,” Ron said. “See, every time I think that, then it dawns on me that—well, that my wife looks like the football.”
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