Dash was not a great swimmer, but she had dutifully taken the introductory swimming courses on the BrainTrust, since, as Colin had said, “You’re living on a boat. Yes, it’s a big, safe boat, but it’s a big, dangerous ocean too. Knowing how to swim is just common sense.” After checking to make sure Ted was okay—no problem there, he swam like a fish—she side-stroked toward the reef, silently cursing her glasses, now coated in frothing seawater.
The copter flipped on its side suddenly and sank. Ted sighed. “Well, it almost worked.”
Between gulps of air, and unintentional gulps of salt water as the waves came and went erratically, Dash offered comforting words. “It worked more than well enough, Ted. Thank you for rescuing me.”
They heard the drone of the helicopter approach as they reached the reef. Ted replied, “We may not be out of the drink yet.”
Two peacekeepers walked to the edge of the reef and offered assistance. One was a seeming giant, as pale as Ted. The other was just as tall but thinner, and about as dark as Dash. Both wore standard peacekeeper uniforms. Enough ocean spray had hit them to leech the shirts of their crispness, but the men still looked very determined and very professional. They pulled Dash and Ted from the water.
Dash stood up, shuddering once before regaining control. “Thank you.”
The pale giant answered first. “Delighted to be of help, ma’am.” He half-bowed. “Wolf Griffin at your service.”
She looked him over carefully. His blond hair was cropped much closer than most she had seen. “So which military service gave you your training?” she asked, knowing it would be a terrible mistake to guess wrong.
“Marines, ma’am. Semper Fi.”
Dash nodded. “Ever faithful. I’m surprised to see you on the BrainTrust. Is that not disloyal to your home country?”
Wolf pursed his lips. “In my day, we took an oath to the United States. Nowadays the kids take an oath to the President for Life. My Daddy always used to say, ‘Loyalty above all things, son. Except for honor.’”
Dash nodded. “Well said, and wisely.” She turned to the other man, who wore a turban. The turban was folded with a distinctive inverted “V” above the forehead. “You’re a Sikh?”
The man stood straighter. “Most people think I’m a Muslim.” He smiled appreciatively at her. “But then everyone says you’re not most people.”
Wolf roared with laughter and slapped the Sikh on the shoulder. “That’s for sure.” He looked at Dash and nodded toward the other man. “Aar here is a Khalsa. An elite warrior.”
Aar rolled his eyes. “Not anymore.”
Wolf shook his head. “Okay, he’s a lapsed Khalsa.”
Dash studied Aar carefully, then realized the problem. “You trimmed your beard.”
Aar nodded. “Unforgivable.”
The droning of the helicopter grew louder. Wolf stepped in front of Dash. “Stay behind me, ma’am.”
Dash hopped out in front of him and, standing as tall as she could, threw her arms wide. “No, get behind me, both of you. They are under strict orders not to harm me. I will protect you.”
Aar gurgled in helpless laughter. “Protected by an itty bitty girl. Captain, you’re never going to live this down.”
Dash found herself thinking about what a sight they made. Here she was, in an immodest bathing suit protecting a hulking Marine with her body, facing one of the most powerful assault copters ever built.
How had she wound up here, anyway? Had she made such poor decisions in this life? Could it be punishment for some transgression in a previous life? And above all, how long would it take for this absurd incident to be forgotten?
Then she noticed that the copters and boats that had been coming to her rescue had all stopped behind the reef. Apparently, everyone was confident that her two peacekeepers could defeat the Russian assault helicopter. This comforted her until she realized that half of the people in those copters were now taking videos, no doubt already going viral. This absurd moment would never be forgotten. Her parents would be apoplectic. Sigh.
Wolf snorted at Aar’s earlier disparagement of his location behind Dash. “I’m not exactly happy about letting her stand there, but I’m not clear on how I’m supposed to stop her. And no one will question my masculinity, not to my face, anyway. And get yourself over here like the itty bitty girl told you to.”
Dash heard a series of clanking sounds behind her. Moments later Wolf poked a long tube out over her shoulder, pointing at the copter. Dash recognized it with surprise. “Is that Ping’s Big Gun?”
Wolf chortled. “Just like it. Ping was sooo looking forward to being the first person to use one in live combat. I am sooo looking forward to beating her to the punch, sending her a detailed report on its operational effectiveness.”
Dash heard a rising whine as the gun prepared to fire. The helicopter roared closer. Wolf hummed with delight.
Then the helicopter twisted sideways and veered away.
“Damn—I mean, gosh darn.” The Captain sighed. “I guess I don’t get to be first.”
Aar watched the copter shrink in the distance. “We always suspected the Russians had good intel. They must know about Ping’s Big Gun. Otherwise, they’d have kept on coming.”
The Big Gun lifted up and away. Dash put her arms down. For a moment there was quiet.
Dash started to mutter thanks to the two men. Then she remembered what Ping had been trying to teach her for several weeks, trying to make her more American. It was time, she realized, to make Ping proud, no matter how shocking and unBalinese it was. She turned and put her arms around Wolf in a quick hug. “Thank you,” she said, then turned and hugged Aar, “for saving my life.”
Aar cleared his throat in surprise. “Just one of the services we offer, ma’am.”
The sound of a different growling engine rose, and a sea-green speedboat with the words “Stray Cat” on its side charged toward them.
Wolf nodded at the boat. “I think that’s our ride, ma’am.”
A gleaming navy blue copter separated from the pack overhead. Dash could see Gina’s flaming red hair in the pilot’s seat. Dash pointed at her. “Actually, Wolf, I think that is my ride.” She beamed at the two men. “Thank you again. I’ll tell Ping how helpful you both have been. And I will convey your disappointment at not getting to use the Big Gun first.”
Wolf prodded Aar. “Joe Bolay So Nihal.”
“Sat Sri Akal!” Aar offered what was obviously a Sikh battle cry.
“Oorah!” Wolf assented.
COMPLEX ALLIES
Nothing is certain but death and taxes.
—Benjamin Franklin
We have people working on both of those.
—Mark Miller, Chief Architect, Xanadu
The Chief Advisor listened with minimal patience to his good friend, the Russian Union Premier.
The Premier reiterated his assurance. “Dmitri Mikhailov was acting entirely on his own. I haven’t confirmed this yet, but he was probably acting in conjunction with the Russian mob. I’m afraid the secret is pretty much out now that Dr. Dash has a rejuvenation process. Everybody wants it. Honestly, once you get your hands on it, I’d appreciate a chance to use it myself.”
The Advisor relaxed. “And I promise, once I’ve got it, you’re at the top of my list of friends to share it with.”
“Thank you. Meanwhile, I assure you that Dmitri will be punished appropriately for his grievous error. Very appropriately.”
The Advisor shuddered. He knew what the Premier considered to be an appropriate punishment for just about everything that pissed him off. “Whatever. Till another day.” They hung up.
Well, he’d been pretty sure that the Premier hadn’t been behind the kidnapping despite the evidence. He was glad to have that confirmed.
But that still left him with a serious problem. After the failure of his Seal team to acquire the doctor some months ago, he’d been left without a serious backup plan. The time had come for more desperate measures…be
fore somebody like the Russian mob got her. He felt a moment of panic. He had to get the President for Life rejuvenated. He was running out of time.
Dash sat down heavily in one of the chairs at the small table in her office. As she willed her body not to tremble, she reached out to cup the jade figurine of Ganesha, the God of Wisdom and remover of obstacles, in her hands. Even Ganesha, however, could not prevent the deaths of her patients.
Chance rushed into the room and took the chair opposite her. "You didn't have to tell the families alone," she said. "Shucks, you didn't have to tell them at all. You could've left the families to me."
Dash shook her head. "It is my therapy that is killing them, it is my responsibility to watch over them, and ultimately, it is my duty to tell their families." She sighed. "It is hard, but we must look on the bright side. The results this time were better than the first time."
Chance nodded. "I've read the reports. In your first tests, your patients were twice as likely to die as they were to rejuvenate. This time, we had four deaths, two patients who experienced no effect, and four successful rejuvenations for ten to fifteen years apiece. You've basically doubled the successful rejuvenation rate."
"It is still entirely unsatisfactory. It must be improved upon." Dash pulled out her tablet. After syncing the tablet to the wallscreen, she pulled up a list of ten new patient candidates. "This is our next group. They have all been vetted by Dark Alpha 42."
Chance blinked at the list. "Dark Alpha 42? What on earth is that?"
"It is one of the startup companies on the Dreams Come True. They have an AI by the same name they have been developing. It is a far-reaching enhancement of the Alpha Zero AI."
Chance rolled her eyes. "Okay, and what’s the Alpha Zero?"
"It was an AI that shook the research world way back in 2017. After just four hours of training, it was one of the best chess playing programs in the world."
Chance eyed the list of patients. "Cool! So what's the AI's explanation for what makes these patients more suitable for the current version of the therapy?"
"I have no idea," Dash responded. "The Dark Alpha series of AIs don't offer explanations. Like the original Alpha Zero, which integrated two very human systems of AI with a nonhuman neural network learning algorithm, the Dark Alphas all have nonhuman elements. Dark Alpha 42 has the most nonhuman elements of any AI ever built, and the least chance of explaining anything in a way that a person could understand."
A look of alarm overcame Chance’s features. "But… That's illegal! All AIs are required to give simple explanations for all their decisions. Any analysis that uses insights beyond human understanding must be discarded."
Dash tilted her head from side to side indecisively. "Well, that is not entirely true. It is true that the European Union, back in 2017, passed regulations that would bankrupt companies that used AI driven decisions that could not be easily explained. At first, the enforcement was weak, and companies could get away with simply putting yet another checkbox in front of the user to authorize the AI. But as enforcement grew more stringent over the course of the next decade, research into nonhuman analysis processes withered and died."
By this time, Chance had figured out where the discussion was going. "Of course! Except it didn't really die, did it? It only died dirtside. Nonhuman AI survived, and continued to evolve, here on the BrainTrust. Right? And while it would be wonderful to have a nice simple explanation from a more human AI that we could use to separate good rejuvenation candidates from those who would die, we are much better off with good decisions with no explanations than we were with poor decisions with good explanations."
Dash smiled brightly. "Welcome to your first BrainTrust moment. That moment when you realize that things that are not possible elsewhere happen every day here. Do not worry. I still have BrainTrust moments like that myself." She headed out the door. "Shall we go break some laws, save some lives?"
Mediator Joshua Pickett softly sang Goodbye, Columbus as he walked from his home on the Chiron over to the Haven. Most people would’ve taken an arvee between the ships, which he considered silly since it really wasn’t all that far away. The total distance from his home to his office was less than a kilometer, little more than a ten-minute walk, too short to even make using a bicycle worthwhile, much less a car.
Besides, he enjoyed the view as he walked across the gangways that connected the isle ships. The plexiglass tunnel connecting the Chiron to the Elysian Fields showed a particularly impressive sight, the iridescent superstructure of the Elysian Fields across which flowed a brilliant display of swirling colors much like the titanium jewelry it had been stressed to mimic.
Another advantage to walking was the opportunity to stop at Joy’s Coffee Hut on the Promenade of the Dreams Come True before crossing the last gangway onto the Haven. He was sitting there, stirring two packets of sugar into his caramel frappuccino when Mediator Chibuzo walked up to him, chuckling. “So, Joshua, I hear you can run from trouble, but trouble will find you nonetheless.”
Joshua looked up from his tablet. “Darnell, nice to see you, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Darnell took the seat across from him and gave him a guttural laugh. “So you haven’t seen your docket for today yet? And you haven’t read the news?” He slapped a beefy hand on the table. “Man, you have all the luck! And you don’t even know it yet!”
Joshua, who who had been bringing his coffee up to his lips, put the coffee carefully down. He now had a very bad feeling.
Just recently, Joshua had asked Mediator Chibuzo to take his place on the Chiron. Joshua’s specialty was mediating contract disputes. His recent cases, however, had all been outside the realm of his expertise. A peacekeeper dressed like a hooker had assaulted by an attempted client. An honor killing gone wrong, since the woman to be killed was an ex-Pakistani commando. An eco-terrorist who had blown up one of the Chiron’s nuclear reactors in hopes of laying waste to the archipelago. Exciting and interesting to be sure, but enough was enough. He’d figured Darnell might enjoy the change of pace if this sort of thing continued.
Meanwhile, the arrival of the Haven, filled with billionaires starting up new ventures all over the BrainTrust, seemed like a gift from heaven. He applied to be their mediator and had been immediately accepted, presumably because they looked at his credentials and thought he made an excellent match.
In practice, he’d mediated more divorces than business disputes in the weeks since the Haven had arrived, but he’d nonetheless had a very satisfactory run of cases. Simple for a man of his background, and quiet. He’d rather enjoyed the quiet.
Darnell interrupted this reverie. “I’m just going to sit here until you read the local GNews headlines.” He folded his hands with the clear intent of waiting however long it took. “Someone needs to be able to report on your expression when you see what’s happening.”
Sighing, Joshua pulled out his tablet and punched up the headlines. The top story screamed at him: Russian Oligarch Attempts Kidnapping of Our Dr. Dash.
Joshua read no further. The rest was obvious. The Americans had tried to kidnap Dash once before, and now the Russians had taken a shot. And of course, the oligarch who ran the operation was necessarily a resident of the Haven. And of course, to further simplify the matter the kidnapping had surely been attempted while on the Haven. So necessarily it was Joshua’s case to mediate.
Joshua put his hands over his eyes and groaned. “This can’t be real,” he muttered. He repeated this new mantra three times before opening his eyes again.
Mediator Chibuzo watched him gleefully. “Oh, that was everything I could’ve hoped for.” He rose, and offered as he departed, “I have to go tell everybody how satisfying it was watching you learn the news.”
Joshua had visions of Darnell talking with all the other mediators on the BrainTrust. He groaned again.
The Chief Advisor frowned down at the President for Life as he did every month at this time. The President lay on the hospita
l bed wired like a Christmas tree as an armada of computers monitored his medically-induced coma. Maintaining him in this state, the doctors had explained years ago, slowed the rate of his decay. Not to worry about problems from the early days of induced coma tech, they said. Electrostim kept the muscles in top shape, and chemically-induced stimulation did the same for the rest of the organs.
The fact that keeping him comatose prevented him from issuing constant demands was just a side benefit.
A handful of doctors and nurses crowded around, modifying the drips and sensors, bringing the President slowly back to awareness. Too slowly. The Advisor turned to the doctor in charge. “We don’t have time for this. I’m calling in the professionals.”
The doctor looked at him glumly. “We can handle this.”
“Too late.” The Advisor went to the door and called out, “Ladies, you’re up.”
Two porn stars and a centerfold swished into the room. They stripped down to their work clothes and went to work on the President.
The Chief Advisor, unable to watch them perform for more than a moment, turned away from the sight.
The doctor joined him. “I just hate that this works so well.”
The Chief Advisor shrugged. “Don’t take it personally. They’re very good at their business. Trixie hand-picked them herself.” And sent them on to him for a final in-depth interview before giving them the job. Really, had any national leader ever had an admin as wonderful as Trixie?
A low animal sound rose behind them amidst the sounds of gentle female laughter. The Advisor shuddered, knowing he’d never be able to get those sounds out of his head. Still, he had to try. He drifted into philosophical rumination as he often did at this point. It was fascinating to consider the gradual steps that had led them here.
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