Lucifer (aka the Lucifer Code) (2001)

by Cordy, Michael

  'Papa Pete? Say something. I know it sounds crazy but I've got to know what you think.'

  'My child, I don't know what to say. This isn't something to which I can give a quick answer. I've seen too many things in my years as a priest to know that - particularly in view of how uniquely close your relationship was with Ariel. Ancient philosophers right up to Descartes believed that human consciousness, or the soul, resided in the brain.' Riga tapped his head. 'Even gave the exact location. Said it was in the pineal gland. But what you just said is so ... unusual that I've got no instant spiritual, philosophical or rational response. I need to give it more thought.' He sat back in his chair. 'But you really think Ariel's still alive somehow? What's this Dr Fleming guy say?'

  Amber shrugged. 'He's smart and I like him, but he's a scientist and not really interested in theoretical stuff. He wants practical solutions, doesn't like things he can't explain, and he sure as hell doesn't believe in an afterlife. He's promised to examine everything when I return, but I know he's convinced that I just had a dream.'

  'Being practical ain't always so bad,' said Riga.

  'Look, Amber, I return to Rome tomorrow, and I'll give it some more thought. Anyway, see what Fleming says and call me with any news. I'm sure there'll be a rational medical explanation.'

  'I hope so,' said Amber, pushing the wine bottle towards him.

  Riga placed a hand over his glass. 'Not for me, thanks. I suddenly got a headache.'

  black granite slab beside the gatehouse. The words etched into it in silver read:

  *

  Optrix Industries.

  The next day

  In the morning Amber felt more optimistic as she drove across the Bay Bridge to Optrix's Berkeley headquarters. Talking to her mother and Papa Pete had encouraged her to believe that Fleming and his NeuroTranslator would indeed find a rational cause for her problem.

  Yet as she sat in the insulated cocoon of the Mercedes, it didn't seem so impossible that some vestige of Ariel, the wave state of her metaphysical consciousness, might still exist in the particle state of the shared section of their physical brain. At a level she couldn't articulate, Amber still felt that her headaches might be a symptom of a greater malaise, and that to cure her Fleming would have to do more than use his NeuroTranslator to exorcize her phantom pain. He had somehow to understand her connection with Ariel.

  As she put her foot on the gas and the Bay Bridge receded in the rear-view mirror, she could see the dark glass tower of Optrix Industries loom into view, gleaming like a pillar of polished ebony. As she approached the imposing gates she turned to the Optrix Industries Optoelectronics Research Headquarters. Let There Be Light.

  The guard waved her through on to the campus and she parked by one of two ultraviolet-proof colonnades that allowed visitors to enter the building without being exposed to direct sunlight. She scanned the parking lot, and recognized the customized black Lexus with heavily tinted windows.

  Inside the reception atrium, heels clicking on the polished marble, Amber greeted the security woman behind the desk.

  'Welcome back, Dr Grant. I hope you're feeling better.'

  'Much better, thanks, Irene.'

  She entered the first elevator and pressed the button for the top floor. When the doors opened, she walked down the curving corridor to her office where her secretary a tall brisk woman with short fair hair, was waiting. 'Dr Grant, how you feeling?'

  'Fine, thanks, Diane. Any urgent messages?'

  'Professor Mortenson in the main lab rang to say they're having problems with the Lucifer optical memory pixels.' Diane checked the electronic notepad in her hand. 'He says the electron-hole pairs are proving unstable. They aren't staying apart for as long as they should at room temperature.'

  Amber frowned. Mortenson was one of her senior physicists but, like many of her team, he lacked initiative. She accepted that, as a workaholic who wanted to be involved in all aspects of development, this was partly her fault. It was time, however, to make people think for themselves. 'Tell him to review the ratios of the gallium arsenide and aluminium arsenide layers in the semiconductor - and to check the photon energy levels at the same time. If that doesn't do the trick then ask him to suggest how he intends to solve it.' She handed her brochure-thin briefcase to Diane. 'Would you put this on my desk? I gotta go see Bradley.'

  Because of his condition Bradley Soames spent much of his time away from the bright sunlight of California, overseeing his VenTec foundation in Alaska, a private venture technology company that developed cutting-edge initiatives for a variety of specialist clients. He left Amber to look after most of the day-to-day running of Optrix.

  VenTec's location, north of the Arctic Circle, was a closely guarded secret. When Amber had worked there ten years ago, managing the task force that developed the optical computer, she had never known its precise co-ordinates. Although she visited the place often, she would be hard pushed even now to pinpoint its exact whereabouts. Since few top scientists were prepared to work in Alaska for extended periods, even for Soames, Optrix had established its main research site here in the San Francisco bay area. VenTec was a bonus.

  From her office Amber walked the circuit of the dark tower's top floor, passing the offices of the finance director, the human resources director and the commercial director, who were the three other members of the five-strong operating board that oversaw Optrix's worldwide business interests. Her office and theirs enjoyed spectacular views of the bay area but Bradley Soames's office occupied the centre of the circle and had no windows. Two doors protected it from the outside world.

  Amber knew the drill and closed the first door before knocking on the inner one. It opened and Bradley's receptionist ushered her into the anteroom with a smile. 'Good morning, Dr Grant,' she said. 'He's expecting you. Please go right in.'

  Amber opened a door of dark frosted glass and entered an enclosed corridor that twisted in ever-decreasing circles towards Soames's office. As she walked, the light dimmed gradually, enabling her eyes to accustom themselves to the gloom of his inner sanctum. The office was circular. There were no pictures on the soft-textured walls and no windows. A vague smell of medication hung in the filtered air. At the back of the room there was a couch and a glass-fronted refrigerated cabinet stocked with Coca-Cola.

  Soames reclined on his chair, trainers resting on the curved desk that dominated the centre of the room, surrounded by the computer screens that allowed him to keep an eye on his global empire. He wore a pale grey cotton one-piece with integrated cowl and gloves. Inside, safe from sunlight, the cowl hung around his shoulders and the gloves were rolled back, exposing scarred, freckled hands.

  Behind him, in the gloom, she could see two large shapes lying on the ground, staring at her with yellow eyes. Soames had brought with him his two timber wolves from Alaska. He had adopted them as pups to keep him company, feeling some affinity with their nocturnal habits. Everyone at Optrix called them 'the shadows' because they were silent, grey and stayed close to Soames when they were with him. He spoke to them in a strange guttural tongue that Amber didn't understand. He treated them as pets and encouraged her to treat them the same way, but she had once read that you should never hug a wolf or forget it was a wild creature. She had only to look into their bright, unblinking eyes to know that this was good advice.

  The larger one glanced at her then turned away. Amber shifted her attention to Soames.

  Apparently unaware of her, he was talking into a headset, monitoring the screens and reading the Wall Street Journal. He blinked constantly.

  'Marty, I don't care, Matrix have gotta play ball with us if they want to survive. Look what happened to Intel chips and Microsoft Windows when the Lucifer came out. Now it's the world wide web. The entire Internet's gone optical - shit, it's already called the Optinet. And most of it relies on Optrix technology, Marty. This is the light age. Data transfer at the speed of light is what it's all about. Matrix have gotta work with us on our terms or stay in the dark age
s and die.'

  For a moment she stood and watched, studying his pale face, disconcerting blue eyes and golden hair. Many felt uncomfortable in Soames's presence. She didn't. She had never warmed towards him and did not regard him as a friend - he was too emotionally insulated to understand the concept of friendship - but her own childhood had conferred on her an affinity with him. It was also a privilege and an inspiration to feed off his intellect. Working with him made her life valuable, her contribution to the world significant.

  'No, Marty, there's nothing to discuss,' Soames said abruptly into the mouthpiece. 'Think about it. 'Bye.' He pressed a button on one of the screens in front of him, killing the link, and turned to Amber with a grin. 'How'd it go?' Before she could answer he said, 'You heard? The Nobel committee finally decided to give me the physics prize but I told 'em I don't want it. I don't need the money and I sure as hell don't need the approval of that bunch of mediocre old jerks.'

  Before she had time to respond, he moved on. Reaching under the desk he took out what looked like a credit card. 'Check out this optical prototype VenTec came up with. Fax, EVmail, video phone, wireless Optinet connectivity and the power of a full-size computer all in the palm of your hand. Awesome, ain't it?'

  Keeping one eye on the wolves, she took the device from him and sat down. 'It's great ... I didn't know you were working on this.'

  Soames wasn't looking at her any more. He was scanning the newspaper again. 'We gotta discuss the China initiative. I know VenTec can create an entry-level optical computer so cheap that Optrix can get one into every household there by . . .'

  Amber Grant gave a weary sigh. It was like dealing with a child - a brilliant, powerful, mercurial child, but a child nevertheless. She raised her voice and said, 'Bradley, land on earth for one minute and focus.' She waited for him to look up. 'I've just got back from the clinic'

  'I know,' he said. He gave a small smile then, his scarred lips curling up to expose incongruously perfect white teeth. 'Discovered anything?'

  'Course not. I only just completed the first scan. You were right about Miles Fleming, though. He's real smart. How'd the rest of the Lucifer soft-screen presentation go in London?'

  'Great - after everyone stopped worrying about you, that is. Had to fly back to VenTec that night but they seemed mighty impressed with the launch. Anyway, I want to know exactly what Fleming's first thoughts are.'

  'Don't know yet. Gotta go back for a longer spell. A month.'

  Soames shrugged. 'Whatever. I need to find out what's behind these headaches of yours.'

  She laughed. 'You need to? I figure I need to find out a hell of a lot more than you do, Bradley'

  'Oh, yeah, sure,' he said awkwardly. 'Just keep me posted on what Fleming says.'

  Half of Amber wanted to tell Soames about her dream, but there was something about his almost clinical interest in her condition that stopped her. 'I suggest we keep my treatment discreet,' she said. 'We don't want the investors getting unduly concerned about my health. I think we should link my collapse at the presentation with stress and concern for my mother, and tell the Optrix board I'm taking compassionate leave. I know at least two people competent enough to run the main projects. Any other issues can handle themselves while I'm away'

  Soames nodded. 'You seem to have everything under control. I suggest you tie up any loose ends and get back to your doctor.'

  She smiled. 'Thanks for being so supportive, Bradley'

  'No sweat,' he said, his scarred face creasing unnaturally as he returned her smile. 'I understand how important it is to look after your health.'

  As she turned to leave, she heard him clear his throat, the signal that he was on the verge of uttering what he liked to pretend was a casual afterthought. 'Just an idea,' he said, 'but don't let Fleming be too linear in his diagnosis. If I were you I'd encourage him to think outside the box. You know, explore every eventuality, however bizarre.' He shrugged. 'Just a thought.'

  Amber frowned. It was a good thought and echoed her own concerns about Ariel so closely that she felt uncomfortable. 'Thanks, Bradley' she said. 'I'll bear that in . . .'

  But he'd already zoned out, immersed in his computer screens. That was the thing about Bradley: just when you thought he was being human and caring, you got a sharp reminder that he didn't think like other people.

  *

  The Red Ark. 33deg 26' S, 16deg 12' E.

  The next day

  Aboard the Red Ark, the Red Pope drummed his fingers impatiently on the desk as he waited for the KREE8 high-resolution holographic plasma screen to fizz into life. When the Doctor appeared, a blood-red cruciform brooch pinned to his white coat, the screen gave his face an eerily effective three-dimensional appearance. Cardinal Xavier Accosta studied it for a second, careful to hide his disgust. He needed this brilliant man and was grudgingly grateful for his dedicated and selfless support. Not only had the Doctor secretly helped fund the startup of Accosta's electronic Church but his technical expertise had enabled it to spread at a speed that had baffled the world. His genius had also been instrumental in fulfilling Accosta's dream of making the Soul Project a reality. But he still couldn't bring himself to like the young man.

  The Doctor aggressively protected the secrecy of his allegiance to Accosta's Church, and although he always deferred to Accosta there was insolence in his eye and tone, which Accosta disliked. He was the only person who could address Accosta as 'Your Holiness' and sound condescending.

  Accosta stared at him and smiled. 'You have something to show me, Doctor?'

  Bradley Soames bowed his head deferentially. 'Yes, Your Holiness. I've conferred with Frank Carvelli and the third member of the Truth Council on all one hundred and eight trials.' A pause. 'The last experiment's the most representative of our progress.'

  The plasma screen next to Soames buzzed into life. A woman was lying on a laboratory couch, her smooth shaven head encased in a glass sphere with a visor like that on an astronaut's helmet. Embedded in it was a small concave square of smoky glass resembling a tiny television screen.

  The visor was up, revealing the woman's pegged-open eyelids. Lightly tinted lenses had been inserted in her eyes covering the eyeballs.

  At first Accosta didn't know who the bald woman was, but as the camera zoomed in on her he recognized Mother Giovanna Bellini. Outraged, it took all his control not to cry out. He glared at Soames, trying to read his face, but the scientist's blank expression revealed nothing. 'How dare you do this?' he demanded. 'On whose authority?'

  Soames shrugged apologetically. 'But, Your Holiness, I had no choice after Monsignor Diageo informed me you'd told him she was endangering the project Accosta's jaw clenched. He hadn't expected Soames to go this far. Monsignor Diageo was always discreet whenever necessary measures needed to be taken, but Soames seemed to enjoy testing him. 'She was loyal. I didn't expect you to - do this.'

  'What did you expect me to do with your troublesome priest, Your Holiness?'

  Silence.

  Soames smiled. 'Mother Giovanna didn't die in vain, Your Holiness. By watching her death you'll see how much we've already achieved.'

  Accosta hated Soames then. He hated his youthful arrogance and his relish for the ruthless decisions that so taxed his own soul. But most of all he hated Soames for not allowing him to pretend that betraying Mother Giovanna Bellini, one of his most loyal subjects, wouldn't result in her death. He had learnt to accept casualties of war in the navy and had resigned himself long ago to making sacrifices to protect God's work, but he still felt guilty.

  'Dr Soames,' he said curtly, 'in future on all matters regarding the Soul Project you will act only on my authority. Now show me the experiment.'

  Soames nodded. 'As you wish, Your Holiness.' He cleared his throat. 'Before we start, some background: through quantum physics we've learnt that human consciousness can exist both as a particle, our physical brain, and as a wave, the thoughts in our mind. Physics also teaches us that energy can't just disappear, it has to go som
ewhere. Life energy's no different. And through recent quantum experiments we now know that at the moment of death our life force - our consciousness - leaves our body as a coherent collection of subatomic photons. To detect these photons leaving the body we use a modified photon-detector screen. Interestingly each individual leaves a unique wave interference pattern. To avoid static the subject's head is shaved and to make the life force visible to the human eye we use polymer filter contact lenses, Flavion gas and green-light spectra to modify artificially the electromagnetic radiation frequency.'

  Accosta stared grimly at the screen, eyes locked on the woman's, forcing himself to watch.

  On screen a green gas invaded the glass sphere, giving her face a sickly actinic aura. On the right of the screen he could just see the electrode attached to her left temple. Offscreen he heard a countdown.

  Four . . . three . . . two . . . one.

  The electrode sparked, followed instantly by a flash of light so fast and intense that even on screen it made Accosta blink. Suddenly, like a blown bulb, Mother Giovanna's eyes were blank beneath the lenses.