Insequor (20 page)

Professor Grey signalled for his pretty, blonde assistant to go to the next slide. Above Daniel, the light of the projector flicked and they were looking at another row of molecules and atoms. Or was it neutrons? He was starting to lose track.

“At this point the antimatter is stored in our magneto-optical trap, being kept cool through laser radiation.” Grey used a laser pointer as he spoke, the soft eyes almost, but not quite, looking sheepish.

Daniel and Jones had been sat in the presentation for forty-five minutes. He reached over and poured what he was pretty sure was his third coffee; and it was only 10am.

Jones however seemed absorbed. He stared with open eyed wonderment (or was it repulsion?) as the good Professor explained how he planned to create antimatter and store it for their use. Then, came the really clever bit and Daniel was waiting to see Jones’s reaction to the sucker punch.

The next slide showed the robot reaching some complex equipment, Daniel was suspended above whilst the scientists would get to work. More diagrams, a picture of something that was definitely referred to as a
quibit
and then a final shot of the robot – although this one was coloured in blue.

Professor Grey rested his laser pointer on the desk and smiled at Daniel before nodding to the assistant who flicked onto the final slide; a picture of a question mark.

“Gentlemen, do you have anything to ask?”

Daniel had plenty; his grasp of the theories was limited and most of what he’d picked up he had to check online, but he wanted see where Jones was at.

“None here.”

Jones turned to him, wide eyed and stuttering. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know if you have any questions?” said Grey.

Jones blinked, finally. “I mean, I don’t understand. Are we going to blow up the planet or something?”

Grey chuckled, “Good heavens, no.”

“Then this matter and antimatter business; I know enough that when they meet they release a lot of energy. I mean, I’ve read about that.”

“Yes, that is true.”

Jones’s eyes crinkled; the crow’s feet either side dragged in more of the surrounding skin. “So we’re going to set one of these off in that Abraznian valley.” He turned to Daniel, “Right?”

“Wrong.”

Jones sat back in his chair. Looked up at the question mark on the screen. The ex-detective’s sixth sense was not working right now and Daniel could see he was frustrated.

“We’re going to use the antimatter and Professor Grey’s…” he clicked his fingers, unable to remember the term.

“Quantum Teleporter,” said the Professor, full of self-importance.

“Right, Quantum Teleporter,” said Daniel, “to make us a copy.”

“A copy?” said Jones.

“A copy. Of the robot. The antimatter version of him.” He clapped his hands and rubbed them together; then waited expectedly.

Jones looked as if he’d just been thumped in the face and, for a second, Daniel thought he was going to topple over.

“Dear God,” said Jones. “What are you thinking?”

“This is the end. The final act. When we have the copy…”

“What?”

The Professor smiled. “We can’t say with one hundred per cent certainty, but whenever antimatter collisions occur they result in a photon emission. The total energy is converted into kinetic energy.”

“An explosion?”

“No, Mr Jones,” said the Professor, “we’re talking about a total conversion of the robot’s counterpart, all that it is, ever will be or has been into pure kinetic energy.”

“Jones, this is the best chance I’ve had.”

“I know, Daniel. I know.”

“Professor, would you give us a moment please?” he said.

“Of course,” said Grey, before turning and leaving smartly. His assistant gathered the papers and laptop he left before following.

Daniel looked across the table, cool air flowing down from air-conditioning ducts over his face. It had been a long week. The initial discussion with Grey had proved to be far too complex. The Professor had an inability to relate to people of a lower intelligence than him; which was essentially everyone.

It took some searching, some teasing and even pleading but he managed to get to grips with the idea after another three sessions. A plan soon revealed itself and he finally understood. Quickly he’d acted; ordering the release of samples from Toby, passing on all the files his own team had sourced, archive footage and of course releasing funds. Lots of funds.

Perhaps he had been too easy to sway, too keen. Maybe even a little desperate. But he wanted to believe it would work. Now, Jones looked over at him, his eyes begging for some answers.

“It’s a lot to get your head around, isn’t it?” said Daniel.

“I wasn’t a science major but surely there are other options. What about the Russians'?”

Daniel laughed at the thought of what a leading government Russian official had proposed only last week. “A trip into Space? And then what?”

“Well we know it can’t fly.”

“So I just stay up there in space, floating around in a Russian tin can for the rest of my days? It wasn’t even a plan. It was just a way for them to get their hands on it for a while.”

Jones sifted through some notes. On one page was a map. “What’s the damage going to be?”

“It doesn’t matter. The whole area’s deserted.”

“Don’t bullshit me.”

He looked back at Jones; serious, stoic. “25 square miles. An area about the size of Manhattan. Any locals have been paid off; they can start afresh somewhere else with a nice amount of money.”

“All of them?”

“There were a few who resisted, but they will have to move one way or another. We’re going to be treating it as an industrial accident; Grey thinks it’ll make it more palatable for the press.”

“You can’t do that.”

“You’re overreacting.”

Jones stood up, his eyes were shining. His hand absentmindedly stroked his chest, flattened down his lapels. “I can’t have any part of this.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Why would I stay? You’re going to get yourself killed. Maybe that’s what you really want, I don’t know,” He waved a hand at the projector screen, “But I know I don’t want to be involved in this.”

“Jones, I have to do this. Can’t you understand?”

“No, I can’t,” he said, and slammed his hand down. “Destroying an economy? Buying a country? Blowing part of it up? This isn’t you, Daniel.”

“Yes, it is. Didn’t you know that? The boy you met, the loser, the fool. That was all I could have been, with what I had. With the robot I have money, a face and yes, power dammit.”

Jones held out his hands. “Then why do you want to blow it up?”

He took a step back. “What?”

“Why do you want to blow it up? Throw all this away?”

He struggled for words. Images flashed in his head and span upside down. Finally, he sat, staring at the wall. “That’s the paradox, isn’t it?”

They sat for a moment in the light of the projector, before it finally went into standby and they were dropped into the late morning Abraznian gloominess.

“I want to stay with you,” said Jones. “Be with you right to the end. But this isn’t right.”

He got up and walked toward the door. As he turned the corner to head down the corridor he said, “Talk to someone,” before he disappeared and all that was left was the sound of his echoing footsteps. Then that too faded.

The plan progressed swiftly. The Abraznians passed the environmental legislation through a midnight sitting of parliament; eighty votes to nothing. Literally the next morning, Professor Grey started to assemble the buildings and equipment he would need in the marshlands of the south. There, the dark skies watched over a landscape where even the vegetation and occasional pools of water were black. Nothing grew here except hardened weeds and scraggy bushes.

To the north, mountains separated this basin of stagnation from the rest of the lush green country where farms and towns prospered. Daniel had chosen the Kraznik valley as he knew it held the least value and had hardly anybody living in it. They built several buildings over the next months; a reactor house to put in the generators; a fuel dump; several research labs; warehouses; accommodation and washhouses. All in all, it started to resemble more of a small village than an oversized science lab.

Professor Grey seemed to be everywhere at once. Marshalling components and supplies as they arrived, overseeing their storage or assembly and then onto the tests. The never ending tests, hours upon hours of checking, rechecking and then scheduling more tests.

Daniel felt almost a spectator to the show. Occasionally he was asked by a member of Grey’s team for some advice or his opinion on some unimportant decision. But he felt they were all just offering him lip service; trying to make him feel important whilst the other scientists got on with the real work and left him to sign the cheques.

His various offices back home were desperately trying to get hold of him and, after three months of monitoring Grey’s progress, he was satisfied enough to leave the Professor to his own devices and go back to New York. After a long flight he found himself sat at his desk with his assistant, Carl, hovering over him as he looked at a mound of paperwork.

“What is all this?” he asked.

“A lot of contract renewals,” said Carl, a calm, bullish looking guy in his mid-thirties. “There’s invites to various balls and galas, three proposals from R&D and about a dozen or so of the most important letters from influentials.”

He leaned back, stretched and cracked his knuckles. “Can you grab me a coffee, please?”

“Sure,” said Carl, before letting himself out.

When the coffee came he got to work. Most of the contracts were fairly straightforward and just required his signature but he noted a couple were renegotiations. Being out of the country for so long meant his image was starting to decline, one soft drink manufacturer suggested. Could he do a personal appearance or two? Perhaps even a chat-show?

The proposals from his R&D team were, as usual, zany to say the least. The three guys who sat uptown in a small office were media experts, constantly looking for ways to make money or sell image rights. Their latest proposal was having a reality contest where he picked an assistant. Looking through the brief it involved far too much of his time so he discounted it. The other two ideas were a mobile application which allowed people access to the robot’s GPS information so they could track it and another autobiography.

He slurped his coffee and threw that one in the bin. He was sick of autobiographies. He already had three official ones, at least a dozen ‘unauthorised’ biographies and he was only thirty-nine. The latest idea was to deal with his relationship with Veronica; which he wasn’t ready to talk about yet and, even if he was, it was personal and he certainly wouldn’t talk about it in public. A sharp, razor-like image flashed through his mind as he momentarily went back to the faces of Veronica’s family at her funeral.

His phone buzzed and he idly picked it up. “Sir, I have Senator Tulley on the phone for you,” said a voice.

“Put him through,” said Daniel. Tony Tulley was a one-man campaign. Always angry about something but rarely representing his state. Of all the politicians he dealt with, and it was a lot, Tulley was his least favourite. But for some reason this was apparent to everyone apart from Tulley.

“Tony, how’s it going?”

“I’m fine, Mr Loman. How are you keeping?”

“Good, good. What can I do for you?”

There was a moment’s silence, followed by one of his unpleasant chuckles. “Well, see here’s the thing. A couple of buddies of mine at some of the energy companies have heard a few rumours and I sure would appreciate you helping me to set the matter straight.”

Impossible,
thought Daniel,
how could anyone outside of his organisation know? Unless…Jones?

“What rumours are those, Tony?”

“It seems you’ve been working with a Professor, goes by the name of Grey.”

“I work with a lot of science professionals, Tony. You should know that.”

“Of course, of course.” The voice at the end of the phone tried to sound soothing but failed. “It’s just there’s talk your research is straying from trying to find a way of stopping the robot into the realms of energy.”

“I’m not sure what you’ve heard, but our research focuses solely on understanding the robot and how to stop it. If we do ‘stray,’ as you put it, into other realms it’s purely for the research.”

“Well I would sure like to get together and pick your brains. I think it would be in the interests of our country. I’m pretty sure it if there was a lucrative opportunity to be had I could help you with any pesky legislation.”

“You’re a little behind, Tony. I already have my own country.”

“That little European piss pot? You’re going to need a hell of a lot more resources than they can give you. But maybe I can.”

“I’ll bear that in mind, Tony.”

“You do that.”