Interface: A Techno Thriller (6 page)

Jo put her hands on her hips. "Aren't you the one who said your mother should have gone to the doctor sooner, and if she..."

"Yes, thanks. I'd rather not think about that right now."

"Well, at least you're in the right place." Jo looked around. "CERUS must really love you."

"Let's hope this place's medical care is as good as its accommodation. How did you know to find me here?"

"I'm still listed as your next of kin - they gave me a call." She reached into her shoulder bag. "I've brought you a couple of magazines and a book, but given that you seem to have two hundred TV channels and on-demand movies I doubt you'll get round to them."

"Quite right," said a voice, "since he shouldn't be here too much longer." Dr Chatsworth walked into the room holding a tablet computer, smiling at Jo then Tom. "I've got the results of the tests. Would your friend care to step outside while we discuss them?"

"You've already got results?" asked Tom. "That was fast."

"
Efficiency is part of the service, now about your visitor..."

"Jo's as good as family. You can speak in front of her."

"Well, then I have good news, with a twist." Chatsworth jabbed at the tablet screen. "We ran a full spectrum analysis on your blood and urine. We also put you through an ECG and MRI and we've been monitoring your heart function for the last eight hours."

"Eight hours?" asked Tom. "What time is it?"

"He fainted again?" asked Jo.
 

"No, no," Chatsworth said. "We had him under a general anaesthetic."

"For tests?" Jo asked.

"Some of the scans required Tom in a consistent state of inactivity. It's the most reliable path."

"So what did you find?" Tom asked.

"You're in good health. Nothing to suggest the problem will reoccur."

"Why do I feel there's a 'but' coming?"

"We think we know what caused it." Chatsworth turned the tablet to face Tom. It showed a scattergram. "This is a breakdown of your bloodwork. There are statistically significant flags for a Methamphetamine derivative."

"I took meth?" Tom took a deep breath. "Are you sure?"

"As far as we can be. The markers typically only show up in the blood one to three days after consumption."

"And that's what caused the problem?"

Chatsworth shrugged. "Everyone reacts differently. Also, there could have been a contaminant in the drugs. Now I'm sure I don't need to say that taking this type of substance is risky enough at the best of times--"

"I didn't
knowingly
take it," Tom said abruptly.

"Someone gave it to him," Jo said, "against his will."

Chatsworth raised his hands. "I'm just a doctor. I can't speak to how you came to ingest it. If you wish to notify the police, I can confirm to them that you had Methamphetamine in your system but unless you can demonstrate that you didn't take it purposefully..." Chatsworth seemed to hesitate. "It's really up to you. I know how sensitive employers get about that type of thing these days."

Tom frowned. "You're sure I'm OK now?"

"We'll monitor you overnight and you should come back for daily checks for a week or so, but we've seen nothing to give us cause for concern."

"So I go back to work?"

"As soon as you feel ready." The doctor's phone chimed. "If you'll excuse me."

Jo watched him leave. "Isn't he the slick operator?"

"You don't like him?"

"He sure came up with answers fast."

"Isn't that what he's supposed to do? Look, all I know is that he said I'm OK. I think I caught a break here." Tom smiled. "And shall I tell you what else is a good thing?" He picked up a leather-bound folder. "This is a hospital with room service."

◇
◇
◇

Chatsworth returned to his office on the far side of the clinic, then closed and locked the door. He started-up his computer, logged into an encrypted voice service, pulled on a headset then dialled a contact. "The set-up is complete and the subject should be viable. There appear to be no adverse side effects from the procedure."

"Excellent," replied a soft, metallic voice. "Any difficult questions?"

"He seemed to buy into the story."

"How about the loss of consciousness?"

"He thinks he just fainted. Of course it was always a possibility with Phase One. But we're beyond that now."

"Good. I trust you did not run him through an MRI, as agreed."

"There didn't seem to be any need. What was the concern there?"

"You don't need to know. Are you ready to proceed?"

"Yes. The tests will start on his next visit."

"Keep me advised."

Chatsworth disconnected the call. Something about that voice gave him chills. He wondered, not for the first time, if he had made a mistake getting involved with this project.

FOURTEEN

BERN'S LEVEL 90 PENTHOUSE WORKSPACE had, he liked to think, the finest views in London. When coming up with requirements for his 'statement' office, Bern had asked that the architects 'let go of their inhibitions'. The room was triple aspect and, if you included the luxury private apartment, took up fully half of the floor. His boardroom accounted for most of the other half, with a small reception area that housed his personal assistant and a security guard making up the balance.

Bern threw his coat on a stand and stretched his neck. He gave a passing glance at the angular steel sculpture his design team had spent weeks sourcing, then walked the not inconsiderable distance to his desk, deviating only slightly to skirt around the Persian rug that had cost fully half as much as his Aston Martin.
 
He took his seat, then suddenly became aware he was not alone: he looked up and saw CERUS' head of HR, clad in his usual plain grey suit.

"Didn't see you there," Bern said with a frown.

Marron shrugged. "That would be the preferred title of my autobiography."

"Planning on writing one?"

"Writing, maybe. Publishing, no."

"Are you here for the meeting?"

"I wasn't invited. As you are well aware."

"Indeed. In fact I know it was arranged with the utmost secrecy, yet you clearly know all about it. What should I read from that?"

"That I'm doing my job."

"What about the work you've had taking place up on the roof? I haven't been able to land there since the party."

"Also me doing my job."

"I saw workmen carrying up a large number of metal rods but, when I went and had a look, I couldn't see any change."

"Exactly my intention."

"And also a large number of steel drums, which I
could
see. They look a bit out of place."

"They won't be there much longer. As you know."

Bern nodded distractedly. "Was there something we needed to discuss?"

"There was an incident with an employee earlier who fell in his office."

"Is it going to be a problem?"

"I believe I've managed the situation appropriately. He's at a private clinic."

Bern blinked. "Good. We don't need any complications right now. "

"I'd better go so your secret meeting can take place. I hope CERUS' most brilliant minds come through for you."

Bern watched Marron vanish into the shadows.
So do I
, he thought.

◇
◇
◇

Bradley followed Heidn and Holm into Bern's office then locked the door. The CEO nodded to them and gestured towards a conference table across from his desk. They all sat and watched while Bern poured himself a glass of sparkling mineral water.

"You are familiar with our last set of financial results?" he said. "Those that suggest the company is tracking on target for the year."

There were nods from around the table.

"And also the rumours that have been circulating? About how CERUS is about to fail?"

More nods.

"The latter are a more accurate representation of our current status. And regrettably it's too late to contain the problem. The whole company will be lost if we don't produce a miracle in the next sixty days." Bern took a deep breath. "Thankfully, this miracle doesn't have to be something
new
. Two months ago I tasked Neil to trawl the archives for something we could do again, but
better
."

"Intelligent nanites?" Holm asked, adjusting his glasses. "That's why Bradley had me looking at those? I may have produced a null batch in the lab, but monetising the project... that's a
long
way off."
 

Bern nodded. "True. And yet nanites may provide a way to transform a much older project."

Heidn ran his fingers through his long grey hair. "You mean Tantalus?"

"This is what I was looking at?" Holm said. "I just saw some code. What exactly is it?"

Heidn cleared his throat. "Tantalus was a Greek demi-god, famous for his eternal punishment in hell. He was made to stand in a pool of water beneath a fruit tree, the fruit eluding his grasp, the water always receding before he could drink. It's where we get the word tantalize." Heidn leaned back in his chair. "The name was a joke but it became a challenge – a call to beat the odds and prove that it could be done."

Holm waved his hand in irritation. "Thanks for the story, but I don't care about the name. What was the project about?"

"An interface. A point where two systems would meet and interact. Man and machine."

Holm gave a snort. "A brain-computer interface? Twenty-five years ago? Did you even have computers then?"

Bradley sighed. "They had electricity and instant coffee too. Stop being ridiculous."

"But there are plenty of BCIs now. You can get headsets for game consoles that respond to brain pulses."

"Not like this one," Bern said. "This is a fully functional bi-directional neural interface. The computer doesn't interpret what you want it to do. It
knows
. The possibilities for such a system... It would be paradigm shifting."

"If it was so revolutionary – and I grant you it would have been twenty-five years ago – why did you stop work on it?"

Bern scratched his ear. "The client pulled their funding. Plus we lost one of the lead scientists. Tragic accident."

"What was so special about this old BCI headset over all those we have now?" asked Holm.

"It's not a headset," Bradley said. He slid a file across the table.
 

Holm flipped it open and whistled. "A computer chip implanted into a person's
brain
? Jesus."

"It was the only way back then." Bern paused. "It's not how we plan to do it this time."

"Wait," Holm said, "I thought we were just bouncing ideas around. You're saying we're actually talking about doing this?"

Bradley stood up and tapped a nearby section of wall. It slid back to reveal a display panel showing the CERUS logo. "A little while ago Mr Bern tasked me with looking at how old projects and new customers might interface, so to speak. One came up." He tapped the display and a wire-frame image appeared and rotated. "We have to make the interface talk to this."

"A helicopter?" Heidn asked. "You want us to make some type of auto-pilot system?"

The image moved to one side and a stream of specifications began scrolling down.

"Not just any helicopter," Holm said. "This is an airborne command centre." He paused. "Russian?"

"Yes," said Bern, "but not military. It's being developed by a private enterprise. For private customers."

"Look at the sensor array," Holm muttered. "That is quite a piece of hardware."

"I'm glad you approve, because we need you two geniuses to programme and implement it with a test subject."

"Hang on a sec. We've gone from hypotheticals to concrete plans to testing this on actual people in the last five minutes!"

"It's a requirement of a deliverable we've committed to," Bern said.
 

Holm whistled again.

Bradley nodded. "This time the process will be surgery free. The nanites will build the 'chip', which won't actually be a chip in any case. Let's call it a node. Anyway, it's not key-hole surgery. We're just talking an injection; the risks are minimal."

Heidn stood up. "We are supposed to be changing the world, William, not helping some rich man fly his helicopter. Tantalus was always about changing the way people interact with computers: getting rid of keyboards, touch-screens, even speech recognition and replacing it with something that works at the speed of thought."

Bern inclined his head. "I want what you want, I assure you. Occasionally necessity dictates that there are some intermediary steps. And this one is necessary to secure the financial future of CERUS so that we can achieve our loftier goals."

"We'd have to go through years of preliminary tests," Holm said. "And who'd agree to be a guinea pig?"

"You just do your part and let the rest of us worry about those things. All I'm asking is
can it be done
?"

"Do we have your word that you intend to take this further?" Heidn asked. "That this isn't just a cash grab to prop up your retirement fund?"

Bern stood up. "I plan to take this
much
further." He looked around the room. "We have an opportunity to turn CERUS' problems into a defining moment. And those who come on board will be rewarded handsomely."

"I don't care about the money," Heidn said. "I want my work to
happen
."

"Hold on there," Holm said. "Some of us aren't indifferent to financial rewards."

"They will be success-based and most generous," Bradley said. "You won't be disappointed. In return, we require your complete attention and discretion: this project is not to be discussed outside those in this room."

"So you know the plan, you know the stakes, you know the rewards," said Bern. "Go make it happen."

FIFTEEN

DANIELLA LAWRENCE HEARD THE RASP as the ancient and overworked air-conditioner struggled against the midday heat.
Outside the grimy window a huge cotton tree loomed over the open-air cafeteria, offering only the suggestion of shade. She stared at it for a moment, thinking she really ought to get some lunch, and then that she ought to try to service the air-conditioner. But there was too much other work to be done.