The Susquehanna Virus Box Set

by Steve McEllistrem

  Dr. Jaidev pointed at Quark. “Arrest this man,” she said to the Elite Ops troopers.

  The Elite Ops troopers moved forward but the robot stepped in front of Quark, its arms out to the sides as if to protect the Escala, its fluid and graceful movements making it seem less like Devereaux and more like some new creature. It looked oddly small standing between the armored Elite Ops troopers and Quark. “No. If anything happens to Quark, I will destroy myself.” The iron control in Devereaux’s voice provided absolute sincerity. “And this program is particularly chaotic. It will shred the organic connections in such a way that virtually no information will be recoverable.”

  Quark reached for the controls to the screens. Doug had forgotten them completely. When Quark activated the audio, allowing incoming transmissions, Lendra’s voice came through: “Is that true, Quark? Did you really implant a computer virus in the robot’s matrix?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Devereaux is no one’s slave.”

  Lendra exhaled heavily, then smiled briefly. “Well played. I underestimated you.”

  The robot said, “You’re not the first to underestimate Quark.”

  “And I assume,” Lendra said, “that you’ve broadcast this to Mars as well?”

  “Of course,” Quark replied. “Just making certain there’s a verifiable record of events.”

  Lendra said, “I’ll notify the President. Doctor, perhaps your Elite Ops troopers should wait outside so as not to distract Professor Devereaux.”

  One of the troopers stepped into the hallway while the other stood under the frame of the ruined door, his Las-rifle trained on Quark. Doug felt both relieved and annoyed that the Elite Ops didn’t consider him a threat.

  “Professor,” Lendra said. “Should I still call you Professor?”

  The robot opened its hands and lifted them palms up. “You could call me R. Devereaux.” The robot’s mouth turned up briefly.

  “For robot Devereaux?” Doug said. “Like a tribute to Isaac Asimov?”

  “Why not?” the robot said. “I feel like I’m in one of your science fiction books. I heard you reading a while ago, but I don’t know if that was me or him.” The robot pointed to Devereaux’s body. “Or both of us. Stranger in a Strange Land. Good choice.”

  Doug smiled. He noticed then that tears were streaming down his face. When had he begun to cry? Did this mean that he had finally accepted Devereaux’s death?

  “A part of me wants to tell you that everything will be all right,” the robot said. “But I don’t know if that’s true. I don’t even know if I’m me, if I have a soul or spark or whatever.”

  “Does it matter?” Quark asked. “You still have your mind.”

  “Yes,” the robot said. “And if I have a soul, I feel it’s still with me. In fact, it may be in both of us, me and that body.” The robot gestured to Devereaux’s body on the gurney. “If there are souls, maybe they’re made up of multiple strands of consciousness, imagination, communication. Maybe mine is split into two parts now.”

  “An interesting concept,” Quark said. “But perhaps we should save that discussion for another time.”

  “Yes, of course. You people aren’t able to multi-task the way I’m able to. I can do so many things at once. In fact, I’ve been processing old data as we speak and I already have a few ideas for more cures. Also, I would like to speak with Jeremiah Jones about this Susquehanna Sally. I might have an idea there as well.”

  “I’ll connect him,” Lendra said. “Just a second.”

  Jeremiah appeared on the screen. Beside him sat Dr. Poole, an attractive woman Doug had never met face-to-face, though he’d met her via holo-projection a few times. Doug wiped his face before smiling at her and nodding to Jeremiah.

  “How are you, Professor?” Jeremiah asked.

  “I don’t know,” the robot answered. “I don’t feel physical pain. I feel rather numb. Nothing like when I had my original body.”

  “I understand,” Jeremiah replied.

  “Yes.” The robot nodded its head. “You haven’t been yourself for a long time either. I can imagine what you’ve been suffering.”

  “Other than the out-of-body sensation, do you feel like you used to? Does your mind feel the same?”

  “Not really.” The robot’s voice—Devereaux’s voice—sounded sad. It also carried a slight echo. “Everything feels borrowed somehow, as if I’m experiencing life—or whatever this is—through some kind of filter. There’s an odd disconnect between what I ought to be feeling and what I actually feel. Do you think it will get better? Will I ever feel complete again?”

  Jeremiah shrugged. “I don’t know. But the Devereaux I know would be fascinated to study it.”

  “Indeed,” the robot said. “It does present interesting possibilities. I am my own guinea pig. In a way,” the robot turned to Doug again, smiling briefly, “I feel like Frank Herbert’s God Emperor of Dune—partly what I was, and partly what I’ve become.” The robot turned back to Jeremiah. “By the way, I’m sorry for what you had to endure. I hope your pain has diminished.”

  Jeremiah nodded. “Now that we’ve done as much with my blood as we can, I’m able to take pain meds. Or are you calling to say you need me to go off the medication, to infect myself again?”

  “No,” the robot held up a hand. “I’m actually calling to get the latest information you have on Susquehanna Sally. I may have some ideas on how to find her.”

  “I think, Professor,” Lendra interrupted, “that your time might be better served trying to find a cure for the virus. After all, we already have hundreds of people looking for Sally.”

  “I think,” the robot mimicked Lendra’s voice before reverting to its slightly echoed Devereaux voice, “that you’re afraid I’ll find Sally before you do, threatening your position as head of CINTEP. I’ve already told you I can multi-task much more efficiently than I used to. I can simply run a sub-routine examining that data while I also work on finding a cure.”

  Lendra muttered something unintelligible. Doug glanced over at Quark, who hid a smile with a cough.

  “Like the guy in Frederik Pohl’s Heechee saga,” Doug said, “the one who became a computer.”

  The robot nodded. “Exactly. Although that work failed to take into account the importance of the mind-body connection. Not surprising, given how little was known about it at the time the books were written.”

  The robot turned toward the screen. “Have you got those files, Jeremiah?”

  “I’ll transfer the files to you now,” Jeremiah said. “But there’s a ton of material. Years worth of data. Still, I’d appreciate any help you can give me. I suspect Eli or Jay-Edgar might be involved, but I can’t prove anything. Perhaps you’ll see something I’m missing.”

  “I doubt Eli is involved,” the robot said, “except maybe as a pawn.” The robot turned back to Doug. “I appreciate how you have looked after my human side, Doug, how you have grounded me. I’ve been noticing for the past few years that I struggle sometimes dealing with people’s emotions. And you have been a great help in that regard. I don’t know if I’ll still need that, but I wanted to thank you now in case I don’t get the chance later.”

  Doug felt his chest expand with love. “You never needed my help with that, sir. You were always the most generous and thoughtful man I ever knew.”

  The robot smiled briefly. “Just say, ‘Thank you,’ Doug.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Lendra said, “You might be able to multi-task, Professor, but it’s a little distracting for me.”

  “Very well,” the robot said. It went still and silent.

  For long seconds, no one spoke.

  “Professor?” Lendra finally said.

  Nothing.

  “Professor?” Quark said. He studied his tablet, tapped a couple of commands on it,
and then shrugged. “He’s processing data.”

  “What kind of data?” Lendra asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “You could find out.”

  “That’s exactly why Devereaux had second thoughts,” Quark said. “Already you’re treating him like a piece of property.”

  “I’m concerned,” Lendra said, “that he might be experiencing a glitch of some sort.”

  “Which is why I made sure his processor is functioning within tolerable specifications.” Quark gestured toward his tablet. “That’s all I’ll ever check.”

  “I could get the Cambridge scientists to study what he’s processing.”

  “Yes, you could. But I should warn you that he will be aware of any observation of his neural net.”

  “You think he would destroy himself?”

  “I don’t know,” Quark answered. “I only know that his biggest concern was his privacy. If you take that away from him . . .”

  Lendra glared at him for a moment, then shook her head. “I ought to have you arrested for tampering with government property.”

  Doug said, “You were right, Quark. They just want to use Devereaux as a computer.”

  Dr. Jaidev stamped her foot. “That’s a lie!”

  “Don’t be absurd,” Lendra said. “We understand that he’s Walt Devereaux—sort of. And we would never try to force him to do anything he didn’t want to do.”

  Doug shivered.

  For a moment no one spoke. Then Jeremiah said, “Quark, you’re doing the right thing. Thanks for increasing the odds that Devereaux will assist us.”

  Lendra said, “We appreciate your efforts, Quark. Still, only Devereaux has the legal right to—”

  “And you,” the robot interrupted her, “have no moral right to examine my private thoughts and memories, yet your Cambridge scientists are even now trying to penetrate my mind.”

  “Are you all right?” Quark asked.

  “For now.” The robot pointed to the screen beside Lendra, which suddenly flicked on. It showed the Cambridge scientists moving about hurriedly. One of them—Dr. Tanaka—spoke through some private link, gesticulating wildly, engaged in a conversation Doug couldn’t hear. “I had to devote a great deal of power just now to installing a shield in my neural net. I’ve prevented them from accessing my mind. Now they’re engaged in retrieving the data flow from the transfer process, hoping to study my thoughts and memories by examining those files. I’m infecting them as we speak. But I fear they’ll be able to retrieve much of the data. I can’t stop that. Hopefully, the files are corrupt enough that they won’t be able to ascertain whether a given thought or memory is real or a viral implant.”

  “We have to know if there were any problems with the transfer,” Dr. Jaidev said.

  “We mean no harm,” Lendra said.

  “Accessing my thoughts and memories harms me,” the robot said calmly. “If you had any decency, you would order all those files destroyed immediately.”

  “We can’t do that,” Lendra said. “We need to preserve those files as a backup, in case you experience a system crash.”

  “Don’t lie to me,” the robot said, a flash of anger entering its voice. “You’re not smart enough to get away with it.”

  Lendra and Dr. Jaidev glanced at each other. Dr. Jaidev tensed, while Lendra’s nostrils flared outward. Quark chuckled softly.

  The robot said, “Jeremiah.”

  “Yes?”

  “I’ve studied the files you sent. And I agree that we need to look inside CINTEP.”

  Jeremiah sat back. “You finished already?”

  “Yes. Please send me all your personnel files now.”

  “Incredible.” Jeremiah shook his head as he worked at his tablet. When he looked up, he said, “The files are on their way.”

  “I don’t yet have all the information I need,” the robot said. “But I can tell you that the person you’re looking for won’t be someone obvious, like Eli or Jay-Edgar, or even Lendra. It will be someone with access to a great deal of computer information, however. Possibly a CINTEP tech or analyst. Someone with a medical background.”

  Dr. Jaidev turned to stare at Dr. Poole. Could Dr. Poole be Sally? Doug found that difficult to believe, mostly because he found her quite sexy, though he had to admit he hardly knew the doctor at all.

  As if reading his mind, Dr. Poole said, “I’m not Sally.”

  “Of course you’re not,” Jeremiah replied. “You were on the Moon during the most recent virus permutations.”

  Doug felt relief. Absurd. Why should he care if Dr. Poole was Sally?

  “Still,” Dr. Jaidev said. “It’s possible she could have coordinated efforts from there.”

  The robot interrupted: “Have all my lecture series been recorded?”

  “Yes,” Dr. Poole replied. “I have them in my system.”

  “I need those now,” the robot said. “I remember seeing some familiar viral components on the Moon last year, which led me to believe this person might be a former student. Yet I couldn’t think of anyone who might have done such a thing.”

  Jeremiah gestured to his tablet and Dr. Poole bent over him to access it. Lucky man, Doug thought. I wonder what she smells like. Her skin looks so soft. What the hell? How can I be thinking about sex at a time like this? And then he realized how horrible it would be if anyone else knew what he was thinking. This was what Devereaux feared, though Doug realized he had no idea what sort of private thoughts Devereaux had, if they were of a sexual nature or not. He himself didn’t want to know.

  Dr. Poole said, “Sending the data now.”

  A minute passed. The robot hummed quietly now, as if aware of the tension and trying to put everyone at ease. Doug looked from Lendra to Dr. Poole, then from Jeremiah to Quark, who continued to study his tablet. “Just making certain that Devereaux’s mind is properly seated in its new matrix and that no one is intruding into the system,” Quark said quietly when he noticed Doug watching him.

  Dr. Jaidev stood unmoving near the door, keeping her eyes on the robot, the Elite Ops trooper behind her focusing only on Quark.

  “In three of my lectures on artificial viruses,” the robot finally said, “I made a comment that someday, someone would figure out a way to wipe out the human race, and I joked that such an event might be the best thing ever to happen to the planet. I suspect someone in one of those classes might have taken my comments seriously. I now need a list of attendees for each of those lectures.”

  “I can get that for you,” Lendra said, “if you can provide me the dates.”

  The robot again hummed quietly, soothingly, as Lendra worked at her computer. Doug found it remarkable that even in this new body Devereaux demonstrated such compassion for his fellow creatures. Were they fellow creatures? Or had Devereaux mutated into something else? Something greater or less than human?

  “Sending data now,” Lendra said.

  Another minute passed. Quark continued to monitor his tablet, while everyone else simply waited.

  “I believe I know who Sally is,” the robot finally said.

  “Who?” Lendra asked.

  “Manyara Harris,” the robot said. “Manyara is an African name, meaning ’you have been humbled.’ She didn’t use that name when she took my class. Back then she called herself Sarah Williams. And the name Sally is a diminutive of Sarah.”

  Jeremiah looked beyond the camera and spoke to someone outside Doug’s view: “Find Manyara Harris.”

  “Did people at CINTEP know about the transfer of my mind into this computer?” the robot asked.

  “Some of the techs did,” Lendra said. “It wasn’t a secret.”

  “In that case,” the robot said, “I think you’ll find that Manyara Harris has fled. She probably suspected that I would be able to ascertain her identity once I had access to the proce
ssing speed of this organic computer.”

  Jeremiah looked beyond the camera again, listened for a moment, showing no expression, then turned to the camera and said, “Mrs. Harris left three hours ago. She’s under covert surveillance.”

  Lendra said, “We should pick her up now.”

  “Not yet,” Jeremiah said.

  “Why not?”

  Jeremiah said, “She may have a hideout somewhere close by, and she may have some sort of self-destruct system in place.”

  “Well, we can’t just let her roam around freely.”

  “Let’s get a couple teams over to her apartment. Check to see if it’s rigged. Search it. And if she returns, take her. Meanwhile, track her every move.”

  The robot said, “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll continue working on cures for the virus.”

  “Professor,” Jeremiah said, “you’re absolutely amazing. Of course, you always were. If you need anything else, let me know.”

  “Yes, thank you,” Lendra added. “Dr. Jaidev will assist you and act as liaison for the CDC.”

  As the screens went dark, the robot gestured to Quark. “We should move to the lab.” Then it turned to Doug. It must have seen something in Doug’s face, for it said, “I’m sorry for your loss. You may not think of me as Devereaux. And you shouldn’t. For whatever I am now, I’m no longer that man.”

  “What about your body?” Doug asked.

  The robot’s eyes lingered on Devereaux’s comatose body. “You can turn off the life support system now. Can you see that someone puts the top of my head back on?” The robot lifted the corners of its mouth in a brief, unsettling smile.

  “Of course,” Doug replied. “I’ll ask the docs to do it right away.”

  “No rush,” the robot said. “It’s not for me. It’s for him. He deserves to die with dignity.”

  Then the robot walked smoothly out of the room, Dr. Jaidev following. When the Elite Ops trooper gestured to Quark with his Las-rifle, Quark looked at Doug and raised one shaggy eyebrow before he too stepped outside. The Elite Ops troopers took positions behind him as he walked away, leaving Doug alone with the vessel that was once Walt Devereaux.