Breakpoint (19 page)

Gaudium had just been introduced as they walked into the hall. He was walking up a set of stairs that rose up from the back of a very deep stage. An aging heavy-metal band was crashing out its noise, and there were literally smoke and mirrors. Blue smoke wafted up from below stage and ancient disco balls were spinning. The scene was replayed on two giant screens, one on either side of the stage and, also on the screens, streams of greenish numbers and symbols scrolled down and a sentence blinked on and off at the bottom. “Is he The One?” The crowd roared. When they quieted down, the band stopped and the disco balls ascended out of sight. The last whiffs of blue smoke floated out into the hall.

Will Gaudium began. “It's time for humanity to take the red pill!”

The crowd roared again. Susan yelled in Soxster's ear, “What does that mean?”

He looked incredulously at her and yelled back over the crowd noise,
“The Matrix,
sister. The pill that lets you see reality? Seriously, Susan, you gotta get out more!”

Gaudium continued. “We have seen a revolution in our time. The IT Revolution. It has made the world a better place. It has allowed us to share knowledge, strengthen free speech and human rights. But now it is going too far.

“The hardware and software I and others invented was for human use. But now we are giving control of IT over to the machines. Machines that write software humans can't read or understand. Machines that run everything we rely on all day, every day. Machines that spy on what we say, what we write, what we eat, what we buy, what we do.

“Now IT is busy creating nanobots to enter our bodies and probes that will connect our brains to cyberspace. Science fiction? No! As a result of the Human Brain Reverse-Engineering Project, hundreds of humans have
already
downloaded much of their memories and thought patterns onto computers.”

The crowd buzzed.

“Now IT is joining up with genomics to create Enhanced humans—if we can even use the word ‘human' to describe creatures with forty-eight chromosomes instead of forty-six. Science fiction? No! I know for a fact one laboratory has been generating just such creatures ever since last year!”

The buzz grew to a roar. “What's he talking about?” Soxster asked Susan.

“Beats the shit out of me,” she replied, “but this is certainly not him in his mellow winemaker mood.”

“My friends, this is all no longer theoretical. The technology is accelerating every day. Most of the breakthroughs the public does not fully understand, and many they do not know about at all. If they even know about Living Software, they think of it as some benign way to make our programs run smoothly—but I am telling you: When a machine is as smart as a human, it will not be long before no human is as smart as a machine. If we allow Living Software loose in cyberspace, it will take over like kudzu in Carolina, like zebra mussels in a pond. The machines will no longer be our servants—they will be our masters.
The Matrix?
Science fiction? Not anymore!

“Four years ago, when we crossed over from eliminating genetic defects to creating Enhanced humans, science went over the line. Bio Fab and Synthetic Biology, which should be an oxymoron, is over the line. When they link up Globegrid and let Living Software run loose on it, we will cross the final barrier. We will have reached the Breakpoint!”

The crowd was quiet now, trying to absorb his words.

“We face a Hobson's choice. As every new advance fundamentally alters what it means to be human, we will either destroy ourselves…or somewhere along that path, something will go very, very wrong. The only thing that might save us from destroying ourselves completely could be an event so terrible that it shocked us out of our complacency. Without Hiroshima, the Cold War might not have stayed cold. We do not wish disaster upon ourselves—we cannot—but in the world that we are creating, would it be the lesser of two evils if it wakes up and saves humanity from its own enslavement?”

“This is starting to creep me out,” said Soxster. “Can we go?” Reluctantly, Susan agreed. In the corridor, she said, “Sounds like your fellow hackers aren't as willing as you to let Living Software put them out of business.”

“Yeah, well…” Soxster looked puzzled. “I have no idea what half of that stuff was. His Breakpoint sounds like Kurzweil's Singularity, but downloading human brains onto computers? Forty-eight-chromosome people? Got me. I'd say he's let the alcohol content of his pinot get too high.”

“Maybe we'll find out at the Hilton,” Susan said absently. Seeing that she had only added to Soxster's befuddlement, she continued “Oh, I forgot to tell you. He's invited us both to lunch at the Hilton. Something to do with some theme park ride.”

Soxster rolled his eyes. “Will we have to kill what we eat?”

2332 Local Time
The Spa, Lower Level of the Mandarin Oriental Hotel
Beijing

“You know who I am?” Brian Douglas asked the man on the other side of the steam room.

“Of course, Mr. Douglas. You arrived here on your diplomatic passport using your true name,” Wi Lin-wei replied in American-accented English. “I am sorry for the venue, but I have established a pattern. Patterns do not raise suspicion. I have a late-night massage and steam here two nights a week. You happen to be staying at the same hotel, using the same health club after your long flight. And meeting here, I can see that you are not carrying a weapon or a recording device.”

“Perhaps you have seen too many American gangster films, Mr….”

“I love movies, American, British. My name is Wi Lin-wei. I work in the office of President Huang.” He walked through the steam and dripping moisture toward Brian. “Your talent spotters would call me a midlevel functionary in a high level office.”

Brian Douglas was surprised at how high level the office was that this source worked in. “Your cousin, Hui, whom you have used as a cutout with us until now, said you had something so sensitive that I should fly my carcass all the way from London to hear it,” Brian said, continuing his tactic of placing the source on the defensive. “Are you here on your own or has somebody sent you?”

Wi looked at the low ceiling, where water droplets were hanging. “Let us say that there are a few who would be glad that I am providing you with this information, but if I am found out they could deny me three times, as Peter did to our Lord. And like our Lord, I would be crucified. I have placed my life in play here tonight, Mr. Douglas. You know what would happen if we were found together. My sources would not be able to save me. But they are high level, the highest.”

Brian Douglas considered his source. Perhaps he was just a very good actor. “And what is your motivation, Lin-wei, if I may be so direct?”

Wi Lin-wei used both hands to do a minor push up on the ledge and then swung his body back against the wall. Adjusting his large white towel, he began slowly: “I believe in what President Huang is building, a nation that is not only prosperous and has modern technology in the cities, but one that cares for the less successful, one that gradually allows more self-expression and institutions other than the Party.” He paused. Brian let the silence hang in the steam. Wi continued, “Mr. Douglas, I have spent some time on trade delegations. In Helsinki, in Stockholm, and even a little time in Edinburgh. No one there wants to overthrow the system, but they are allowed to worship as they choose and to join civil society organizations, to say and write what they want. Also, the governments provide for the less successful, even those in the countryside. I drove for a week throughout the countryside of Scotland with two colleagues. It is so green.”

When it was clear that there was no more coming, Brian asked, “So you love China and just want to see it better? And who does not, eh?”

“The PLA. The military leaders want order. They want the big companies they own to make money, not to share their profits with the poor and the villagers. More important to them even than money is the honor of China. They will sacrifice economic growth for that honor. And Taiwan is an offense to that honor, especially when it shoots down the PLA's jets.”

It had all poured out of Wi so quickly and with such a tone of bitterness that Brian's confidence in him increased. “The money we are paying you—that is not a factor in our meeting?” Brian queried.

Wi jerked this head around to face Brian. “Hui keeps all the money you give him. I told him I do not want your money. I do this for China.”

“You are a patriot, then, sir,” Brian responded, trying to offset any implied insult he may have made. “We cannot stay here much longer. They close the gym at midnight. What is the sensitive information that you want us to have?”

Wi leaned forward. “It is for the Americans, but I do not trust their people to get it to the top there. They lose important information and they leak it. Can't connect the dots. You, I believe, can, your Sir Dennis and what
The Economist
called his English-speaking network of intellocrats.”

Brian could not suppress the smile that Wi's observation produced.

Wi continued. “President Huang cannot always keep the PLA in line. He has let them go on an alert, moving the fleet out into the Pacific, arming missiles.”

“We've noticed,” Brian deadpanned, hoping that was not what Wi thought was sensitive.

“A dozen years ago, President Bill Clinton sent two aircraft carrier battle groups to waters off Taiwan when the PLA threatened. The American Navy claims publicly that it forced our fleet to turn around in the Indian Ocean during the Islamyah crisis a few years ago. If the U.S. Navy comes to Taiwan now, the PLA will not back down or run away, not without bloodying the Americans. And that could get out of control.”

“And the PLA thinks the American Navy is coming to defend Taiwan?” Brian asked.

“You tell me, Mr. Douglas.”

Was this all a ruse to get the answer to that question or to urge the U.S. to keep the 7th Fleet away? Brian wondered. “They don't tell me their sailing plans. And if they did, of course, I wouldn't tell you.”

“The PLA thinks that they will come—not just to defend Taiwan, but to retaliate for the bombings in America,” Wi replied, the tension rising in his voice.

“So the PLA did the bombings in America?” Brian said, almost casually.

“I don't know. Neither does President Huang,” Wi insisted, “and if I did, I
would
tell you.”

If it was true about Huang, that was an interesting fact, Brian thought. “So what should I tell my cousins in America, Lin-wei?” As he spoke, the miniature device inside his ear canal beeped three times, stopped, and beeped three times more. Then he heard three clear code phrases. “Trouble,” Brian said, and moved quickly to the steam room door. He turned and looked at Wi, who was standing up, looking frightened. “Come with me now. Move!” Brian yelled at him.

“What? What is happening?” Wi asked in the locker area outside the steam room.

“There's a police sweep, checking IDs in the lobby. Special Security police. Some are on their way down the stairs that lead to this spa, now. Grab your shoes, wrap them in your clothes,” Brian ordered. Grabbing his own things from his locker, Brian moved quickly to the rear of the room and jumped up on a bench. Wi followed quickly. Brian reached up and swung open a grate over a large air-conditioning panel. A flexible plastic ladder fell out. “Climb up as fast as you can,” he said to Wi. When Wi disappeared into the ceiling, Brian followed him and pulled the grate back up behind him. “Keep climbing,” he urged Wi. “Push on the grille up there on the left. Don't let it bang. Let yourself down into the room.”

Brian heard voices, calling out in Chinese, from the spa locker room below him. He leaped down into the baggage storage room and saw Wi hurriedly hiding amid the suitcases. “The woman at the spa desk will have told them that there were still two people inside,” Brian said to Wi.

“No, I doubt it,” Wi said, shaking his head. “I pay her much money, twice a week.” Douglas looked skeptical. “I get happy ending after massage,” Wi admitted.

Brian chuckled, not only at Wi's admission but at the sight of himself standing half-naked off the lobby of a five-star Beijing hotel. “All right, then we stay here for a while. You were saying…what I was to tell Washington's pooh-bahs?”

The Chinese man dropped his towel and stood there in his briefs. “President Huang has some people in the Ministry of State Security that he trusts. He has them investigating the PLA's role in the bombings in America. But he doesn't know what to do when he gets the answers, doesn't know how to stop the PLA and their supporters in the Politburo from doing something to Taiwan and its Independence Party. He needs help, Mr. Douglas.”

“The Special Security police don't normally check IDs in a five-star hotel at midnight, Lin-wei. I would be very cautious, were I you.” Brian noticed that Wi was literally trembling. Then he noticed a yellow stain on Wi's briefs. Apparently, he was a genuine source, or a truly excellent actor.

Noon PST
Quark's Space Station Bar, the Hilton Hotel
Las Vegas, Nevada

“I ordered you their blue Romulan ale. They don't have pinot noir,” Will Gaudium said as Susan Connor and Soxster joined him. They were seated in a restaurant that looked like a movie set for some space-travel saga.