by John Akers
Cevis finally stepped back but continued to hold Pax by his shoulders. “Hello, Oreste,” he said warmly. “It’s good to see you. How are you?"
“Uh, I’m good, thanks. Clearly, I don’t need to ask you how you’re doing.” Cevis laughed loudly, his voice echoing down the mountainside.
Pax nodded back toward the helicopter. “Nice toy you have there, by the way.”
“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Cevis replied, still smiling. “I commute to work with it now, so I don’t have to stay at the apartment during the week anymore. I leave at dawn and return at night, and no one around here is affected by my comings and goings.”
“Nice to see you’re still as antisocial as ever.” Pax was surprised at his sarcasm; it was as if his subconscious had opted to pick up right where they had left off after their last conversation.
Cevis’ didn’t seem to notice. He chuckled and said, “Why be mired amidst the rabble when one has the means to avoid it?” Then he pulled on Pax’s shoulder and said, “Come on, let’s go eat.”
They headed up the path toward the house, with Cevis still keeping one arm wrapped firmly around Pax’s shoulders. Pax found himself flummoxed by Cevis’ unexpected amiability. He didn’t know whether to be pleasantly surprised or concerned that Cevis had flipped his lid. Eventually, he decided to say something practical.
“So, what are we having for dinner?”
“Salade niçoise, grilled Alaskan salmon, asparagus au gratin, and wild rice. Accompanied by a very nice 10-year old Riesling.”
“Sounds delicious. I just realized I’m starving. I skipped lunch today so I could afford to take this time off.”
Cevis chuckled and said, “Soon, you may have more time than you think, old friend.”
Pax wondered what he meant but decided not to ask.
They approached a 12-foot wall made of rock and mortar with stones the size of a man’s head. Two eight-foot oak doors swung silently outward, and as they passed through, Pax noticed the wall was at least three feet thick. A smaller path branched off to the left and led up to a two-story building that Pax knew was Cevis’ home lab. The outside was brown stucco, but Pax remembered Cevis telling him that underneath the walls were made of engineering brick and steel sheeting. Even if one of San Diego’s periodic firestorms reduced the surrounding forest to charred matchsticks, Cevis’ lab would remain unscathed.
Ahead of them was a single-story building made of sandlike bricks that looked every bit as impregnable as the outer wall. A second set of oak doors opened, and they entered Cevis’ home.
The door opened onto a short entryway which in turn led to a spacious but austere living room. The floor was made of variegated earth-colored tiles, on top of which rested a multi-sectioned Mission-style sofa made of walnut and distressed brown leather. The sofa faced an eight-foot OLED screen hung over a fireplace large enough for Pax to lie down in. It was immaculately clean, to the point that Pax wondered whether it had ever been used.
They went into the dining room to the far end of a long mahogany trestle table where two plates of food were waiting. As they sat down, a Chopin nocturne began playing in the background. Pax noticed for the first time that Cevis’ house bot hadn’t greeted them.
“Where’s Risi?” he asked, as he shook out a brown linen napkin and placed it on his lap.
“I dismissed her until after dinner,” said Cevis. “What we’ll be discussing must be said in private.” Cevis put his napkin in his lap, then looked at Pax. “In fact, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like this to be a truly private conversation, like people used to have in the BC days.
“BC days?”
“Before connectivity.”
Pax started to laugh, but stopped when he saw Cevis reach over to the seat next to his and pick up two circular boxes. They were identical, each a foot in diameter and six inches tall. Pax immediately recognized they were UV silencers. Composed of a multilayered wire mesh that blocked radio waves in the cellular and Wi-Fi ranges, along with a honeycombed acoustic foam to block all sound waves, they would completely cut a UV off from the outside environment, even if it wasn’t turned off.
Cevis placed the boxes on the table between them. He removed the lid from one box, took off his Univiz, placed it inside, closed the lid firmly, then pushed it off to one side. “There; Cyrus is safely put away now.” He nudged toward the other box toward Pax with one hand, then gave him an expectant look.
The request surprised and angered Pax. “Don’t you think that’s unnecessary?”
“I apologize, Oreste, but I must insist,” Cevis replied. “What I have to share with you is so important I have to be absolutely sure one of these technological marvels you’ve created doesn’t inadvertently record and share our conversation with any other people or systems.”
“I can assure you nothing is recorded when a Univiz is set to full privacy mode,” Pax said, his jaws tight.
“Please, Oreste. Humor an old friend.”
Pax recognized Cevis wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “Fine,” he snapped, “if you insist.” He removed his Univiz and placed it in the remaining box, then closed the lid and brusquely pushed it next to Cevis’. “If I keep mine off for too long though, my network will get nervous.”
“They’ll survive without you for a couple of hours,” Cevis said, his expression brightening. He picked up his fork. “Let’s eat!”
Pax looked down at his food and found the first bite of salmon was already pre-cut and resting on the tines of his fork. He picked it up and ate. Fortunately, it was delicious. Within a few bites, Pax had almost forgotten his anger.
They ate in silence for a couple of minutes before Cevis piped up. “So, why don’t you tell me about your big news?”
Pax made a conscious effort to put Cevis’ insult behind him and focus on telling what had happened with Project Simon. Cevis already knew about the project at a high level — Pax had told him about it shortly before Omnitech had bought CortiTrac. Pax had downplayed it at the time, calling it a moon-shot project, and hadn’t mentioned it since.
Now he told Cevis what the team had been up to since then: designing the Univiz sensor grid, building the software program that would relay the information from the neural mesh, building the surgical center, and performing the BCI surgeries on the five alpha test participants. Then, with increasingly animated gesticulations and verbal flourishes, he relayed the astonishing discovery from two days earlier, and how they might have uncovered a new capability of human cognition.
As Pax spoke, Cevis slowed and eventually stopped eating altogether, He sat listening with his hands in his lap, and when Pax finished, he gave an inscrutable smile.
“Wonderful!” he exclaimed. Then his face reverted to its standard expression of having just eaten something mildly unpleasant. “However, if I understand the timeline correctly, you hadn’t even run the first test when you and I spoke on Wednesday morning. Is that correct?”
Pax felt his stomach constrict. “Um, well, no. The first test was actually being run right then. They hadn’t known I was planning to visit the testing that day.”
“You didn’t know the exact schedule of testing for the most important project in your whole company?”
Pax felt his face reddening. “The team had to move one of the participants to an earlier time slot. They didn’t know I’d be attending.”
“So you hadn’t made it clear to them how important the project was to you?”
“They know I think it’s important!” Pax snapped. He picked up his wine glass and downed the rest of it in one swallow. “They also know I’m incredibly busy.”
Cevis regarded Pax with an expression of mild curiosity as he took a small sip of wine. “Still, when we spoke Wednesday morning, you hadn’t even run the first experiment.”
Pax’s face grew hotter. “Right. But I was extremely confident in the team’s preparatory work and was confident we would get positive results.”
“In my experience, a priori confiden
ce in one’s hypothesis is often the biggest barrier to an objective interpretation of data. It seems to me you were a bit premature in advertising your ‘big news’ when we spoke.” Pax said nothing and stabbed another bite of the salmon with his fork. He chewed rapidly, staring angrily at his plate. Why is he nit-picking on this shit for? He looked up again, but unexpectedly found Cevis smiling at him.
“Nonetheless,” said Cevis, “what you have described is a fantastic, if opportunistic, discovery. In fact, I’d say it is one of the most remarkable scientific discoveries ever.”
The hot flush in Pax’s head and neck dissipated completely and his eyes widened. Did he just call my discovery ‘remarkable?’ He blinked and swallowed. Cevis lifted his glass toward Pax and said, “Congratulations.”
The words felt like an elixir that filled Pax’s head and radiated deliciously down his spine and throughout his body. It had been ages since he’d heard such direct praise from Cevis for anything he’d done. He raised his glass to Cevis’, and the tone that sounded when the glasses touched was like a harp string to Pax’s ears.
They finished eating, then Cevis looked out the sliding glass door that led onto the patio. He had a faraway look on his face.
“What’s even more remarkable is you happened to make this discovery at this particular time,” he said.
“Why do you say that?” asked Pax.
“Let’s get a drink, first, and go outside,” said Cevis. “The sunsets this time of night have been beautiful lately.”
Cevis got up and walked over to a liquor cabinet. He took out a bottle sitting by itself on the top shelf and filled two highball glasses. As he brought them back to the table, he said, “Fifty-year Glenlivet, bottled in 1970.” He extended one of the glasses toward Pax.
“Wow. I didn’t know you were a collector.”
“I’m not,” said Cevis. “I bought this many years ago in anticipation of celebrating an achievement I considered truly special. Today is that day, although now for what you’ve done as well.” He walked toward the door, which slid open. Pax stood and followed him outside.
They headed to the far end of the patio, where the mountain sloped precipitously away underneath them. They both leaned on the wood railing and looked out at the clouds spreading across the desert valley to the north. Their undersides glowed orange and pink from the setting sun, and the air was crisp and cool.
Pax inhaled deeply, then turned to Cevis. “Well, enough about what’s been going on with me. What’ve you got to tell me that you’re being so extra-secretive about?
A smile played at the corners of Cevis’ mouth. “I’ll tell you, but I have to give you a bit of background first.”
“All right,” said Pax.
“As I’ve told you before, I realized I was unusually gifted at a very young age. When I was five years old, I could solve math problems children twice my age couldn’t. By the time I was in middle school, I knew more than any of my teachers. Before I finished high school, I had begun solving problems in genetics and stem cell development even the greatest scientific minds in the world had been unable to figure out.
“As you also know, I’ve always chosen to remain anonymous, rather than take advantage of the celebrity and financial benefit my discoveries could have enabled. The reason for shrouding myself in secrecy is because the work I’ve done, all of it, has been in service to a much larger goal. It has been a dream of mankind’s for millennia, and it captured my imagination when I was only a child. In high school, I’d learned enough to realize that sufficient groundwork had been laid by previous generations of scientists that it might be possible to solve the mystery. I resolved then to dedicate myself to finding the answer, and it has been my motive purpose ever since. All the work I’ve done has been dedicated to assembling the pieces I needed to solve the real puzzle that’s been my life’s quest.”
He looked down at his hands. “This week, I solved it.”
Pax thought he was going to burst. “For God’s sake, man, what? What did you solve?”
“This week, I gathered the final evidence I needed to validate a technique for using stem-cell therapy and some other genetic treatments to prolong mammalian life indefinitely.” In the twilight, the reddening sunset filled Cevis’ pale eyes with a fiery glow.
“Eternal life, Oreste,” he said. “I’ve discovered the secret to eternal life.”
Chapter 17
Friday, March 16, 7:51 PM PT
Los Altos Police Department Incident Report
Case No.: 2035-02716254
Location: 2341 CUESTA ABAJO CT, LOS ALTOS, CA 94024
Incident Type: NETWORK HACKING, HARASSMENT
Date and Time Reported: 3/16/20xx 7:52 PM
Dispatch Date and Time: 3/16/20xx 8:25 PM
Bias/Motivation: NONE
Victim/Missing 01 (V01) Name (Last, First): SANCHEZ, MARIANNE
Last Known Address: 2341 CUESTA ABAJO CT, LOS ALTOS, CA 94024
D.O.B. (V01): 05/12/19xx
Age (V01): 41
Race (V01): CAUCASIAN
Sex (V01): FEMALE
Eyes (V01): BROWN
Hair (V01): BROWN
Height (V01): 5’ 5”
Weight (V01): 148 LBS.
Univiz ID (V01): 1978494843
Victim/Missing 02 (V02) Name (Last, First): SANCHEZ, MIGUEL
Last Known Address: 2341 CUESTA ABAJO CT, LOS ALTOS, CA 94024
D.O.B. (V02): 11/24/19xx
Age (V02): 45
Race (V02): HISPANIC
Sex (V02): MALE
Eyes (V02): BROWN
Hair (V02): BROWN
Height (V02): 5’ 11”
Weight (V02): 210 LBS.
Univiz ID (V02): 1875031692
Suspect 1 (S01) (Last, First): NONE
Suspect Status: N/A OR UNKNOWN
Witness 1 (W01) Name (Last, First): NONE
Related Report(s): 2035-02716248, 2035-02716255
Incident Description:
NARRATIVE GIVEN TO REPORTING OFFICER BY ALLEGED VICTIMS MARIANNE SANCHEZ (V01) AND MIGUEL SANCHEZ (V02) IN THEIR HOME. MR. AND MRS. SANCHEZ REPORTED WHILE EATING DINNER IN THEIR HOME AT APPROXIMATELY 6:15 PM, THEY EXPERIENCED A STRANGE SERIES OF LIGHTING MALFUNCTIONS. WHILE SITTING AT THEIR KITCHEN TABLE, ALL THE LIGHTS IN THEIR HOME SUDDENLY TURNED OFF. INITIALLY THEY THOUGHT IT MIGHT BE A POWER OUTAGE, BUT THEN THEY SAW THEIR IMMEDIATE NEIGHBORS’ LIGHTS WERE STILL ON. THEN THEY THOUGHT MAYBE SOMEONE HAD TURNED OFF THE MAIN POWER TO THEIR HOME, AS THEY DO NOT KEEP THEIR FUSE BOX LOCKED.
AS MR. SANCHEZ PREPARED TO GO OUTSIDE AND CHECK THE FUSE BOX, ALL THE LIGHTS TURNED BACK ON. MOMENTS LATER THEY ALL TURNED OFF AGAIN. THEN INDIVIDUAL LIGHTS BEGAN TURNING ON AND OFF, ONE AT A TIME, COMPLETELY AT RANDOM. AFTER SEVERAL SECONDS, ALL OF THE LIGHTS TURNED OFF AGAIN, THEN ON AGAIN, ONE AT A TIME.
WHEN NOTHING ELSE HAPPENED, MR. AND MRS. SANCHEZ DECIDED THEY MIGHT BE VICTIMS OF A HACKER, SINCE ALL THEIR HOME LIGHTING IS CONNECTED TO THE INTERNET. THEY DECIDED TO DRIVE TO MRS. SANCHEZ’S MOTHER’S HOME, BUT WHEN THEY OPENED THE DOOR TO THE GARAGE, THEY FOUND THE GARAGE DOORS OPENING, ALL THE LIGHTS ON, AND ALL THE DOORS OPEN ON MR. SANCHEZ’S SUV. THEY DECIDED TO WALK TO THE HOME OF THEIR NEIGHBORS, THE BHATTERJEES.
MR. AND MRS. SANCHEZ ALSO REPORTED VISITING ANOTHER NEIGHBOR, MRS. LYDIA CUNNINGHAM, APPROXIMATELY AN HOUR EARLIER, TO CONSOLE HER OVER THE DEATH OF HER HUSBAND, JERRY CUNNINGHAM EARLIER THAT AFTERNOON (SEE RELATED REPORT 2035-02716248). MR. AND MRS. SANCHEZ FELT IT WAS IMPORTANT TO MENTION THIS BECAUSE OF MR. CUNNINGHAM’S BELIEF THAT HE HAD BEEN THE VICTIM OF A DELIBERATE ATTEMPT TO TRACK HIM AND ATTACK HIM THROUGH THE DEVICES IN HIS HOME. THE SANCHEZES EXPRESSED CONCERN SOMETHING SIMILAR MIGHT BE HAPPENING TO THEM.
PLEASE SEE RELATED REPORT NO. 2035-02716255, TAKEN FROM MR. & MRS. BHATTERJEE.
Reporting Officer Name (Last, First): MARTINEZ, RICARDO
Reporting Officer Badge No: 1889
Date Assigned: 3/16/20xx
Reviewing Supervisor Name (Last, First): FITZGERALD, MARY
Case Status: OPEN
Chapter 18
The first thought that flickered through Pax’s mind was, “The son of a bitch has one-upped me again.” Just as quickly, the full significance of what Cevis had said began to sink in. Cevis didn’t make idle claims. It must be true. Cevis Pierson, the guy I happened to meet in an organic chemistry class, has conquered death.
His eyes wide, Pax said, “Are you serious?” Cevis simply nodded.
“But, how? How is that possible? I remember once you described the difficulty of turning stem cells into specific cell types, like blood or skin cells. Do you mean to say you’ve learned how to do that for every cell in a human body?”
“To be specific,” said Cevis, “a stem cell is any cell in the body capable of reproducing itself. Cells like skin cells and blood cells are stem cells, but they can only reproduce new copies of themselves. Hence, they are called unipotent, or differentiated stem cells. The stem cells you’re talking about are from an earlier stage of development and can form any of the 200 types of cells in our bodies. Those are referred to as pluripotent or undifferentiated stem cells.
Cevis stirred his scotch absentmindedly with a finger. “Back in 2006, Dr. Shinya Yamanaka revealed a technique for creating pluripotent stem cells from existing cells, such as skin or blood cells, rather than cells taken from human embryos. It involved identifying the genes needed to induce the formation of pluripotent stem cells, then attaching them to a special kind of virus. This particular virus has the rather unusual behavior of injecting its DNA into the chromosomes of any cells it encounters. When virulent cells containing the genetic transcription factors for pluripotent gene formation were applied to skin or blood cells in culture, it created pluripotent stem cells. Now referred to as induced pluripotent stem cells, or iPS cells, they are equivalent in every way to pluripotent stem cells from an embryo. With the Yamanaka technique researchers were able to avoid the ethical issues involved in harvesting stem cells from human embryos.”
