by JC Ryan
“Anyone have any ideas? Any at all, even silly ones?” the president asked, looking around the conference table.
“Do we know how this assassination is to take place?” someone asked.
“No,” Lewis replied. “Our informant was given the information on a very basic level. He said an old friend told him, so that he could protect himself from any blowback. He’s in the States right now, part of the reconstruction conference that you called, sir.” The last sentence was directed to Harper.
“Just who is this informant?” blustered the general, who had seen the word ‘idiot’ on the face of the president, even if the man didn’t say it aloud.
“I’m sorry, sir, the man is our asset, and his identity is strictly need-to-know. I don’t see any purpose in revealing it.” Sam set his jaw. He’d reveal it to this hothead over his own dead body.
The general bristled, but was forestalled from speaking by Harper, who had inherited the Chairman from a predecessor. “I asked for ideas, not a pissing contest.” Harper’s threat was clear. Stop jockeying for king of the mountain and think.
The Secretary of State said, “Sir, I don’t think we have time to do anything about this, but it wouldn’t hurt to call Israel and warn them. This is going to come back on them or us, and maybe both. All we can do is be prepared and give them a chance to be equally prepared.” She had a very good point, which Harper acted on at once.
“Make the arrangements,” he directed his own Chief of Staff, who excused himself to do so.
“The way I see it,” Harper stated, “our hands are tied. We can’t stop it, and if we warn Iran, it looks like a threat. Who else besides Israel needs to know? And will any of them try to warn Iran and make it look like we’re the threat anyway? Ideas, people! I need ideas.” Not even in the thick of the 9th Cycle virus that had brought the Middle East to the brink of extinction and the world to the brink of nuclear war had the time been so short to act.
~~~
A few months previously, a chance encounter with a virus that had survived for millennia in an algae bloom in the depths of a hidden Antarctic valley had resulted in a pandemic that killed nearly two hundred million people across the globe, all of Middle Eastern descent. In the countries comprising the Middle East, almost half of the total population was lost, some countries being harder-hit than others.
The devastation wasn’t only to the population; economies were in shambles, infrastructure had failed or was about to. It couldn’t have been much worse if nuclear bombs had been dropped on them. In fact, near Iran’s border with Afghanistan, several nukes had been detonated, the result of an ill-fated attempt on the part of Ayatollah Kazemi of Iran to launch missiles at the US. Losses of life from that disaster and the mass of suicide bombings that took place on the recent Fourth of July accounted for another fifty thousand or more.
Though the virus had been stopped virtually in its tracks by the gene therapy solution found by the Rossler Foundation’s virologist, the world was still reeling from the near apocalypse. Harper’s hair, a rich brown when he took office six years before, had turned completely white in the past four months. More than anyone, except perhaps Daniel Rossler, he felt the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. He had fewer than two years to bring his country out of the deepest recession since the Great Depression. But, he was fully aware that the fissure between the West and the Middle East was deeper than ever and must be bridged before the peace required for a rebuilding effort to be successful would come to pass.
As the world recovered slowly from the devastation of what came universally to be known as the 9th Cycle Virus, after the nickname the Rossler Foundation expedition to Antarctica used, President Nigel Harper had found himself in the forefront of the call for reconstruction of the hardest-hit countries. The conference in New York City was one of his initiatives to move things in that direction. Now, all that was once again threatened by the new crisis.
~~~
“I’m not sure anyone else needs to know, Mr. President. It’s highly unlikely that anyone but Israel or the US would be blamed. We may as well get ready for retaliation, rather than worrying about pulling someone else’s bacon out of the fire.” This came from the Secretary of Defense, with expressions of agreement coming from most of the others in the room.
“Very well. Do we wait until they throw a nuke at us and shoot it out of the air, like last time?” Harper asked, referring to the close call of a few months past.
“Sir,” the general said, “with all due respect, I don’t like to leave it to luck like that. We’ve recently installed new technology in our geosynchronous satellites, thanks to your friends the Rosslers. We now have the capability to knock out their electronics so their birds can’t fly. Without any harm to life,” he hastened to add. The international ban on weaponization of space had tied his hands to a large extent, but he felt that he could justify this technology if called on it.
“What’s all this?” Harper asked. He knew he wasn’t briefed on every little thing, it would have been impossible to keep up. But this was something he should have known.
“It’s called a SEMP,” the general answered. “Sustained Electromagnetic Pulse. As I understand it, it doesn’t destroy the electronics, unfortunately. But it does confuse them for several minutes each time it’s used. We can send a series of these pulses to prevent them launching their missiles. It’s a lot less invasive and aggressive, they would in all likelihood not know that we caused the malfunction and will have no reason to direct aggression towards us.”
“What’ll they think of next?” asked the president, expecting no answer. “Will this protect Israel, too?”
“As long as we can prevent launch of any missile, yes. But, you can’t tell them, sir.” Blanching at the president’s expression, he amended his statement. “Excuse me, sir, I should have said it’s classified.”
“I won’t tell them,” growled Harper. Even though he had a good personal relationship with President David Yedidiyah, of Israel, it was fun to rub the man’s nose in America’s superior technology now and then. Harper still hadn’t gotten over the slight that Israel had handed the US a few months before by refusing to allow him to reestablish embassies in Israel after the US embassy in Tel Aviv had been reduced to rubble by a suicide bomber. On the other hand, there was no question that the Mossad was the premier security agency in the world, surpassing even that of the US, though they were darn good, too. He would have liked to brag about this new defense item. Oh, well, guess I won’t get to have fun this time.
Once again, they were relying on largely untested technology, but the backup plan was the laser technology employed a few months previously. And the back-up plan to that was a preemptive strike with his own nukes. Harper figured he had it covered.
This is nanotechnology
August 15, Boulder
In the aftermath of the 9th Cycle virus, when the expedition members returned home, the mood was at first subdued. The Middle East was still in the grip of the virus, although it was loosening. Robert Cartwright had accepted an invitation to join the Foundation on a permanent basis, and had returned to Australia only to get his belongings and say farewell to his mother, who was looking forward to a visit to her son in the US for Christmas. Robert and the electronics engineer and IT specialist for the expedition, Cyndi Self, were living together for the time being.
JR Rossler’s bride, Rebecca, who had been the expedition’s medical director, had also accepted a permanent position with the Foundation. The four of them spent quite a bit of their leisure time together, as well as working together at headquarters. JR and Robert had become fast friends, and Rebecca and Cyndi liked each other as well. Events in the Middle East seemed far removed from their daily lives in Boulder after the shock of the suicide bomber had been put behind them.
One night as the four were barbecuing in the Rosslers’ back yard, JR asked Robert if he’d ever heard back from his Chilean contact about the strange, light-emitting substance found in
Paradise Valley, Antarctica.
“No, and I’ve lost touch with him. I can’t find out what happened, but the rock was returned to me a week or so ago, after being sent to Australia and forwarded here. I’d still like to know what that thing is. I’ve never seen anything like it.” He handed JR the plate of brats to put on the grill.
“It seems a shame to just drop it. Why don’t you ask Daniel if you can do some more digging?” JR asked, placing each brat carefully across the grill sideways.
“Maybe I will. I’ll give it some thought first, try to come up with someone who may be able to suss it out,” said Robert, while watching the flames dance.
A few days later, Robert knocked on Daniel’s open door.
“Boss, you got a minute?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe.
“Sure, Robert. What’s on your mind? I could use a break from all of this virus paperwork headache.” Daniel put down his pen and focused on the Aussie geologist.
“Well, it’s kind of trivial in that context, but do you remember that Nyree Dasgupta and I found that crazy rock that shot out laser-like light? The stuff that’s lighting the valley?” Robert asked, stepping inside the office.
“Oh, yes, of course. Didn’t you send your sample off somewhere?” Daniel gestured for Robert to sit down, but he remained standing.
“Yeah, but I got it back with no explanation, and I still don’t have an answer. JR and I were talking about it the other night. Since we didn’t get much about 9th Cycle technology out of the ruins, and this stuff might have already been there when the 10th Cyclers got there, we’re thinking we maybe should follow up on this. It may be the only thing of value we get out of those two very expensive expeditions.” Robert’s characterization was an understatement. The expeditions had cost human lives, not just dollars.
“You have a point,” Daniel responded. “What did you have in mind?”
“I’ve an old friend from CalTech, met him while he was on an exchange at the University of Sydney a while back. Name of Mark Hoskins. He’s back in Pasadena, and I’d like to show it to him in person and get his recommendation of someone who can take a look at it and figure it out.” Now that they were at the crux of the matter, Robert got it all out in one breath.
“You need a place to stay while you’re out there, or just the airfare?” Daniel’s question revealed that he’d already tacitly approved the plan.
“Let me give him a call and find out,” Robert grinned.
“Okay, let Traci, my assistant know. I’ll approve it out of discretionary funds, at least until you’ve got a formal proposal about it.”
“Thanks, Daniel. I’ll keep you in the loop.”
The next day, Robert sat in Mark Hoskins’ CalTech office explaining the provenance of the ordinary-looking rock he’d brought with him. When he swore that the rock had been emitting a strong, focused beam of light before Nyree picked it up, and that it had stopped doing so as soon as she touched it, Mark expressed doubt.
“You know, Rob, it isn’t April Fool’s day. What really brought you out here? Just wanting to see an old friend?”
“You can count on that, mate. But what I’m telling you about this rock is no joke. I’m looking for someone who can explain it, maybe even turn it back on,” Robert insisted, turning the rock over and over in his hand.
“This isn’t my area of expertise,” Hoskins said. “Your guess is as good as mine. This ‘rock’ looks manmade. I wonder if the light doesn’t have something to do with subatomic manipulation of some kind. Let’s show it to a kid the physics department recruited for the upcoming semester. He knows more about nanotechnology than anyone on earth, I think.” Hoskins reached out his hand and Robert deposited the rock in it.
“Nanotechnology? You really think it could have something to do with that?” Robert asked, inclining his head in the rock’s direction.
“We’ll never know if we don’t ask. Come on, I think he should be in his office.” Hoskins got up to lead the way.
A few minutes later, Robert was being introduced to a Roy James, newly-minted PhD out of MIT. Robert knew they were getting younger and younger, but this guy couldn’t have been more than about 26 - 28 at the outside.
Even though physics wasn’t Robert’s specialty, he had a decent understanding of the atomic table. It was his job to know the more common minerals when he saw them, and he understood that some of them differed only by a few protons or electrons from the others. That, however was the extent of it. When it came to creating new elements, which scientists have been doing since 1940, and lining atoms up to miniaturize sophisticated functions on the molecular level, he was in far over his head.
It quickly became apparent that young Roy James was one of the most brilliant people Robert had ever met, even if he was also one of the most socially awkward. In their initial meeting, Roy seemed nervous and gawky, unable to look Robert in the eye or speak without stuttering. Until he heard the story of the rock that Robert and Mark had brought with them. Then he transformed almost miraculously. He asked to examine the rock under the 10th Cycle microscope that had been provided for his lab, and became very excited.
Exhibiting a new ability to speak precisely, he asked Robert to repeat the story. “Where did you say this came from again?”
Robert repeated his explanation, emphasizing that when Nyree picked it up, the light emission stopped, but that before that this small sample was part of a larger pile of the same substance that was emitting thousands of candlepower of focused light which, upon striking the unique mist layer created by the extreme difference between the warmth and humidity of the Antarctic valley and the cold, arid air above the volcanic cone, illuminated the entire valley with reflected light.
“We think there were probably dozens of them located on the shelf level where we found this one, but the discovery was so startling that we decided to bring this one back down and study it rather than try to locate others. It seemed more important at the time,” Robert explained. “We think it might have been 9th Cycle technology, but we don’t really know. Could have been 10th. I don’t know how the valley would have been inhabitable without some kind of light source for the 9th Cyclers, though. It would have to be pitch dark in there except in the height of summer when the sun is high enough overhead to shine down into the valley. And even then, it would be like a cloudy day.”
“We have nothing like this today!” Roy enthused. “We couldn’t even come close to it! Your physics researchers haven’t found anything about it in the 10th Cycle library?” He’d heard of the library, of course. You’d have to have been completely cut off from modern society not to have heard of it by now. But, he’d never had the chance to see the archives.
“Don’t know that they’re looking for it.” Robert responded. “Research is pretty much hit and miss even now. The library is so vast that there don’t seem to be enough people to dig everything out quickly. Why?”
“Why?! You’re kidding! Do you know what nanotech could do for us?” Roy asked. When he went on, it was clear it had been a rhetorical question. “Just the efficient use of existing resources alone could save billions of dollars! Take my dissertation, for example, ‘Nanotechnology: Exploring the Practical Boundaries of Increasing the Capabilities of Electronics Devices While Reducing Weight and Power Consumption’. I speculate that we may be able to create a cell phone that can be inserted in your ear, no larger than a hearing aid that will operate on its initial charge for up to a year. You won’t even know it’s there until someone speaks in your ear.”
Roy seemed so excited by that possibility that Robert hated to point out that something like that could cause traffic accidents galore as startled drivers suddenly heard their wives calling them with a grocery list, or worse, yelling at them for not remembering to take out the garbage. Obviously, there were many gadgets that nanotech could improve; Robert just wasn’t sure that a cell phone was one of them. Nevertheless, he caught the gist of Roy’s enthusiasm as the other man went on to extol the m
any benefits of nanotech. That gave Robert an idea.
“When do your classes start, and are you ready?” he asked Roy. Hoskins started to interrupt, but Robert waved him down.
“Middle of September. Yes, all of my lectures are prepared. I’m just waiting for my research funding to come through before I start my next project. Why?” Roy was still turning the rock over under the microscope, seeking anything that looked like an on-off switch.
“I’d like to arrange to bring you to the Rossler Foundation for a few days. Maybe if you gave a presentation about how important it would be to find 10th Cycle information on this, if any is to be found, someone would start looking for it. We’ve got a whiz of a data specialist that knows his way around the index better than anyone, name of Raj. You two would get along like a house afire.” Hoskins was shaking his head, but neither of the other men noticed.
“I’d love to. Let me make sure it wouldn’t violate my contract with the university, and if it can be set up in time for me to start the semester on time, I’ll be there.” Roy was looking forward to exploring the marvelous 10th Cycle library. Hoskins had a bad feeling about the whole thing. The university may not have their whiz kid for long.
Exchanging contact information, Robert and Roy lost no time in making the visit a reality, with Robert expressing gratitude to Mark for introducing him to the young genius.
“Glad I could do it, Rob. Say, I wouldn’t mind an invitation to hear that presentation,” Hoskins said, doubting that he’d ever hear it at CalTech, the way things were going.
“Consider yourself invited. I’m sure Daniel and the rest would have no objection. I’ll shoot you an email to confirm.”
With that, Robert headed back to Boulder, sure that he had just been instrumental in bringing a potentially important line of study to the Foundation.
