Mind's Eye (41 page)

“The counselors being Eric Trout and Tyrone Tienda?”

“Exactly. Although when I went to camp, the counselors weren’t trained killers with guns.” Megan sipped her coffee. “I wonder how many implants you’d have to stick in a human head before we stop having such a vital need to take comfort in the arms of fellow primates?”

Before Heather could answer, Altschuler came through the door with an excited gleam in his eye. “Where’s Nick?” he asked.

Megan shrugged. “He was in the living room with you,” she said. “Maybe he went to the bathroom.”

“I’ll look,” said Altschuler and left the room once again.

He returned with Hall in tow a few minutes later. “I think I’ve found a way to solve Nick’s little problem,” he announced when they were all together.

Hall’s face lit up. “Fantastic. But I thought you said any tinkering with my implants could be dangerous.”

“I did. But I’ve been researching and thinking about possible underlying causes of your condition. I’ve come to believe there must be some frequency range for which the Internet works but your psionic power doesn’t. I’m sure I can write some fairly simple iterative software I can send to your implants. Programming them to modify frequencies every few seconds. You just have to keep surfing the web and reading minds while I do. I’m convinced we’ll find settings that will allow the Internet to work, but will cure you of your ESP. Once we do, I can nail them down, and modify your software so your implants can’t ever accept further changes to these settings. That way, nothing on earth can ever bring it back.”

“How long will it take for you to prepare on your end?” asked Hall excitedly.

“A few hours.”

“
Outstanding.
And this will give me time to film my bit for the press conference. If this works, Alex, I owe you a dinner.”

Altschuler laughed. “Well, with that as motivation, how can I miss?”

Alex Altschuler excused himself to lie down on a bed, close his eyes, and focus on manipulating files and software with his thoughts, while the other three civilians relocated to the living room and the television.

There hadn’t been a TV built in the past five years that wasn’t Internet ready, and which didn’t have a built-in high-definition camera for video-conferencing and for making simple YouTube videos, of the type Hall intended to make now, to be shown the next morning at the press conference. The better TVs both filmed and received in 3-D, and the one in the safe house was no exception.

The only problem was that Hall had no idea how to proceed. They discussed it for almost forty minutes, out of earshot of their bodyguards. In the end, they concluded there was no way to prove in a video format that Hall could manipulate the Internet with his mind.

Sure, if he were giving a live demonstration, it would be easy. Have several well-trusted journalists send a text message to an address in his brain while he was standing blindfolded in front of them, and be amazed as he read the message back to them. Or ask him to go to random URLs and read off from the pages he found there while they checked his accuracy on their own computers. There were dozens of compelling demonstrations that quickly came to mind.

But video was canned, and could be faked. Megan could write a text, show it to the camera, and then Hall could repeat it a moment later while blindfolded. But viewers couldn’t know for sure Megan hadn’t told Hall the contents of the message beforehand.

Their most creative idea involved Hall blindfolded, with several thick ski caps also over his head, in the same video shot as Megan rolling three dice. She would then enter the random results of the dice roll into her cell phone, also in front of the camera, and hit send. Moments later Hall would read off the numbers. She could repeat this several times. Since there was no way for Megan to know what numbers the dice would land on, there was no opportunity for collusion.

There were only three little problems with this idea. One, video editing techniques had become so seamless the entire shot could have been faked. Two, there was no way to know someone wasn’t watching off-site and communicating the numbers to Hall through a hidden transmitter in his ear. And three, talented magicians could pull off feats even more impressive than this.

In the end, Hall introduced himself, recounted his last conscious minutes on board the
Explorer,
and described his internal Internet capabilities. He detailed the system’s ability to bypass ears and eyes, and therefore cure deafness and blindness, and to allow surfing with thoughts alone. He waxed poetic about what it was like to be able to instantly harness the greatest repository of information the world had ever known. Then he worked with Megan to provide several demonstrations, before finally acknowledging that he was aware his demonstrations were not conclusive, and could have been faked. He promised, however, that as soon as his responsibilities to help those investigating the
Explorer
tragedy were discharged, he would demonstrate the capabilities of his implants conclusively to any number of famous reporters, in person, until not a smidgen of doubt remained.

Once his piece was ready, he sent it off to Fyfe in New York. It was off the cuff, unrehearsed, and the production values were amateurish, but Megan insisted its very lack of polish lent it a certain authenticity and appeal.

If lack of polish truly was a positive thing, thought Hall, it would be an extraordinarily appealing video, indeed.

49

Alex Altschuler was ready with his software even before Hall had finished his video presentation. With his most important job completed, Hall sat on the couch with his eyes closed while Altschuler retreated to the bedroom once again.

Eric Trout and Tyrone Tienda wandered through the area twice each, but were paid to protect, not to ask questions, so they didn’t comment on the odd behavior of the people they were protecting: one asleep in a bedroom in the middle of the afternoon, one apparently asleep on the couch, and two women on another couch studying the sleeping figure with almost giddy anticipation.

Heather and Megan would have liked to continue their discussion and get to know each other even better, but neither was about to risk missing the outcome of this experiment.

Less than an hour later Hall’s eyes shot open and he jumped to his feet. “It
worked!
” he shouted, his expression both triumphant and stunned, and a moment later he looked to be on the verge of tears.

He hugged Heather, kissed and hugged Megan, and when Altschuler vaulted into the room a short time later, Hall gave the scrawny scientist a bear hug that might have lasted ten full seconds, lifting him off the ground and spinning in circles.

“Thank you, Alex!” he said exultantly.

“You’re very welcome,” said Altschuler when Hall let him go. “But next time, you really need to buy me that dinner you promised
before
I let you hug me like that.”

Hall laughed.

Megan’s eyes became moist. “I am
so
happy for you, Nick,” she said softly.

Heather didn’t doubt it. She was also certain Megan was happy for
herself
as well, having no idea how any woman could handle being romantically involved with a man who could read her every thought.

Hall closed his eyes and let out a long breath. “This is
awesome
,” he announced. “No more endless chatter. No more vicious, ugly thoughts from kids and parents and bosses and employees. No more disturbing sexual fantasies.”

 Heather had been told what Nick was going through, but as the newest member of the group, it hadn’t really sunk it. “You really picked up stuff like that all the time?” she said.

“Yes. I learned to deal with it—for the most part. Suppress it and ignore it. Turn it into white noise and desensitize myself to it. But if I was around even a moderate-sized group of people, and focused on individual thoughts for even a short time, I was drowned in this type of ugliness. And some thoughts couldn’t be ignored no matter what I did. The more wicked, caustic, hateful thoughts seemed to be stronger than the rest and could break through the noise.” Hall shuddered just from the memory. “But thanks to the genius of
this
man,” he added, slapping Altschuler heartily on the back, “the long nightmare has ended.”

Heather Zambrana caught Alex’s eye and nodded approvingly.

 “Now I just have to find a way to prove I’m ESP free to a certain colonel,” said Hall. “And all of us live happily ever after. Especially me,” he said, smiling broadly at Megan.

“I don’t want to bring you down,” said Altschuler, “but you need to be sure Girdler doesn’t manage to kill you
before
you’re able to share the good news.”

“You do have a point,” said Hall. “And it is harder to come up with a convincing demonstration when you’re dead.”

Heather smiled, impressed that Hall could use gallows humor when his was the neck that was
in
said gallows. But after what he had been through, maybe it was either that or go insane.

Two hours later, Hall and Altschuler insisted on preparing dinner, using Internet recipes they conjured up in their heads to match the food they found in the refrigerator and freezer. In another hour, all six residents of the safe house were dining on tomato basil soup, Caesar salad, and lemon chicken. Trout and Tienda, who had spelled each other while they caught a few hours of sleep, took their food back to their stations on the inner perimeter of the house, while the four civilians ate at the kitchen table.

After dinner the group returned to the living room.

Heather couldn’t believe how well everything was coming together. Historic events were occurring at a rapid-fire pace. Not only did these represent monumental leaps forward for humanity, and not only were they amazing to be a part of, but they also gave her and Alex even more in common than they had before. As they began to pick up and reinforce each other’s mutual signals of interest, by nine at night they found themselves so close together on the couch they were nearly touching. Even so, Alex still acted like Heather had a force field around her. And she was too shy to break the physical ice further.

When Alex got up to use the bathroom, Heather had a quick verbal exchange with Megan and then returned to her place on the couch. When the bespectacled scientist reseated himself, Megan walked over to them and shook her head. “I’m afraid I have some bad news,” she said. “I spoke with Trout. It looks like you two will have to share a room tonight. ” She turned to Heather. “Do you have any problem with that, Heather?”

Heather shook her head. “None at all,” she replied.

“But I don’t understand,” said the smartest person among them—at least in some ways. “There are plenty of rooms. Why would we—”

“
Really
, Alex?” interrupted Megan. “Heather here says she doesn’t have a problem sharing a room with you tonight. Are you sure you want to ask questions?”

Altschuler gritted his teeth and looked like he wanted to slap his palm against his forehead. “Right,” he said with a stupid smile. “If we’re short of rooms, we’re short of rooms. You know, if we have to make that sacrifice, I’m certainly willing to do my part.”

“Well played, Alex,” said Hall with a grin.

The conversation continued, and soon Altschuler had his arm around Heather and she had her head on his chest, both of them content as could be.

The group was discussing their favorite movies twenty minutes later when Eric Trout rushed into the room and over to a window. “I just got an alert from Tanya,” he said, speaking once again of the PDA that serviced the home’s TVs, computers, and security system. “Do you hear that?”

Now that he mentioned it, Heather realized she did hear something—several sirens, very faint in the distance. Everyone joined Trout by the window. The sirens grew louder, and soon the unmistakable flashing lights of several police cars could also be seen in the night sky.

“Are they coming here?” asked Altschuler, a hint of panic creeping into his voice.

Trout put in an immediate call to Ed Cowan and described what was happening, but within minutes it became clear the cars were not headed in their direction, after all, to the relief of the group.

A short time later Cowan called back and had a brief conversation with Trout.

“Cowan did some digging through police channels,” explained the bodyguard. “Some woman was getting brutally beaten in her house. Apparently, by some guy her husband hired to kill her. And to do it slowly so she would suffer.”

Megan shuddered. “And I thought
my
parents’ divorce was bitter,” she whispered with a mixture of sadness and revulsion. “Talk about hating your wife.”

“Were they able to save her?” asked Heather.

“They were,” replied Trout. “They caught the bastard who was doing it before he finished. The woman will need a few nights in the hospital, but she should pull through.”

“Thank God,” said Heather.