Wired (11 page)

For a moment, Peck thought he had turned into the invisible man, or become a mist, a vapor, floating down the hall toward
a chimney. Graham walked completely through the office without anyone speaking.

“Oh! Hello, Graham,” one of Al Meacham's assistants sitting at the end of the room said nervously. “Glad to have you back.”
The man stood up and immediately walked toward the water cooler. A secretary smiled perfunctorily and then ducked her head.

Graham turned the corner and saw Sarah Cates sitting at her desk typing.

“Graham!” Sarah immediately stood up. “You certainly got here in a hurry.”

“Sounds like we've got a problem over on Fifty-fifth Street,” Graham said.

“Big!” Sarah's eyes widened. “Terribly big. I got a call moments ago from the mayor and he was extremely pleased you would
be here today. He wants you to call him on his personal cell phone immediately.”

“I'll make it in my office.”

“He changed his phone number a couple of days ago to prevent any media intercepting his calls.” Sarah handed Graham a piece
of paper. “I wrote the new number down for you.”

“Thanks.” Graham took the note from Sarah and closed his office door behind him. He punched in the numbers and put the phone
to his ear. “Mayor, this is Graham Peck. I'm in the office.”

“Good! Excellent!” Bridges shot back. “I'm on my way back to the office. We will have a staff meeting when I get there. Shouldn't
be fifteen or twenty minutes from now. We have some urgent problems to discuss.”

“I'll be there.” The phone clicked off.

For a few moments Graham didn't move, holding the telephone in his hand. The mayor hadn't mentioned Maria's death either.
His rapidly spinning world had come to a shrieking halt; he had never felt so lonely as he did in that moment. Obviously,
no one in the building wanted to speak to him. Had his mother's death turned him into a pariah? Was there something about
him that was different from all of those other uncountable days he had walked through the office just as he did this morning?

He reached over and punched the intercom button. “Mrs. Cates, please come in.”

Moments later the door opened and the secretary walked in with a notepad in hand. “You called. What can I do for you this
morning?”

“Please sit down.”

Sarah Cates kept the warm smile firmly in place. Her eyes looked far less assured and she seemed slightly nervous.

“Sarah,” Graham began uncharacteristically, “level with me. What's wrong out there?”

“Out there?” Sarah shrugged.

“Look. I walked in here today and nobody even looked at me. No one has said a word about what happened in my family, and even
you seem a little tense.”

The smile disappeared from Sarah Cates's face. She didn't answer.

“So, tell me.” Graham leaned forward across his desk. “Why am I getting the distant treatment?”

Sarah looked down at the floor for a minute and then took a deep breath. “No one knows what to say, Graham. Death is… a…
well… one of those things we simply don't talk about. No one knows how to think about dying and then one of us has a family
member killed.” Sarah cleared her throat nervously. “They're all good people, but they don't know how to respond
to you
. That's the problem.”

“My mother's death has made me
an outcast
?”

“Look, Graham. None of the staff has any negative feelings toward you personally. It's just that they don't want to talk about
death.” Sarah shifted nervously in her chair. “The truth is that they don't even want to think about dying or disappearing.”

Peck slowly leaned back in his chair, staring at his secretary. “This is the way we deal with death these days?”

“Graham, no one knows what's happened to millions of people that disappeared in an instant. We don't want to think about it,
remember it, see it, much less talk about it at work.”

“I see,” Graham said slowly and deliberately. “Death is now the final obscenity. We shouldn't use the word in polite company?”
He pushed back from his desk. “Thank you for your honesty.” Graham pointed toward the door. “Please call me soon as the mayor
is back here for the staff meeting.”

“Certainly.” Sarah stood up nervously. “I'll call you at once.” She hurried our of the room.

For a few moments Graham stood at his desk, shaking his head. “I can't believe it,” he said to himself. “My mother dies and
everyone is so frightened that they won't even give me a simple ‘Sorry to hear it.’” He sat down slowly and stared at the
wall.

T
WENTY MINUTES LATER
Graham walked briskly into the large conference room in Mayor Bridges's office. “Good morning,” he said in a flat voice.

Jake Pemrose had already staked out his usual seat at the table with Jack Stratton sitting across from him. Bill Marks came
in ahead of Graham. The men shook hands, made polite conversation, but no one mentioned Maria Peck's death. Moments later
Frank Bridges marched in with Al Meacham. Bridges was wearing Dockers and a pullover sweater. The attack obviously caught
him by surprise. The men sat down quickly and silence settled over the room.

“Graham, I appreciate your being here this afternoon,” Bridges opened the meeting. “We obviously have another crisis staring
us in the face. The explosion this morning was a terrorist attack of some order.” He shook his head. “A bomb was set off in
the basement that destroyed much of the museum and killed several hundred people. Maybe more. I got a call on my way here
from the president that slowed me getting to this meeting. He'll send us any assistance that we need.”

“You're sure it was a terrorist attack?” Graham inserted the question forcibly.

“You always ask the jackpot question,” Bridges answered. “We're not certain. The issue will keep the police and the Homeland
Security people busy until it's answered definitively.”

“Then, it could have been a local extremist?” Graham leaned back in his chair. “Possibly an accident?”

Bridges pulled nervously at the sweater he was wearing. “I doubt it,” he said with cold resoluteness. “But we can't breathe
a word on this subject.” He looked slowly around the room at each man. “Are we all clear that no one can allow any leaks on
Graham's question?”

“Sure, boss!” Al Meacham answered. “You know you can trust us.”

“This is a sensitive issue,” Bridges said. “We can't afford any slip-ups. My opponent is going to scream that we aren't providing
citizens with adequate security. We've got to face this problem before it avalanches.” He looked at Graham. “How would you
answer that one, Peck?”

Graham blinked a couple of times. “I'd ask him if he thinks that the president of the United States was not guarding the country
when the bombs went off on the boat in the Long Beach harbor. Does he think he's smarter than the American military?”

Bridges stared for a second and then broke out in a broad grin. “Graham, you're a genius! Excellent answer.”

Murmurs of approval drifted around the room.

“I like that answer!” Bridges said enthusiastically. “I'm certainly glad
I thought of it
.”

The men chuckled again.

“Okay!” Bridges walked to his blackboard. “I've been thinking about how we'll respond to the entire problem and I've already
talked with the president about this idea.” The mayor picked up his laser pen and bounced it up and down in his hand. “I've
got a word I want to make sure you all know.” He started writing on the blackboard. “Nanotechnology,” Bridge said as he wrote.
“It's the most radical technology in human history. We're talking man-made machines about the size of 100 nanometers or about
100 billionths of a meter. That's a device one thousand times smaller than the diameter of a human hair.”

“A human hair?” Jake Pemrose sat up in his chair. “
Man-made
?”

“You've got it!” the mayor answered. “These tiny machines chines are, in effect, miniaturized computers that can literally
crawl through arteries. Nanomachines are able to lighten or darken your skin. These creations can literally be painted on
your arm and no one would ever know it's there!”

“Are you talking science fiction?” Bill Marks asked skeptically.

“No,” Bridges answered. “The government has been secretly spending billions of dollars a years to perfect these gadgets. They've
got a few nanomachines working now that could transfer garbage dumps into energy. The president tells me they've got nanomachines
that can be coated on your house to generate electricity. How does that hit you?” Bridges smiled broadly.

“Where you going with this?” Graham asked cautiously.

“Citizens want security,” Bridges answered. “They are terrified—they want to know what the city is doing to fight these attackers.
It doesn't make any difference if they're local or international. They want to know that we are providing adequate coverage.
Now we've got it.”

“How?” Peck pushed.

“We can coat an easily accessible part of their bodies… say their foreheads… with a solution that carries nano-devices;
they will tell us if that person is security approved. We can cover the entire population of the metroplex with invisible
security. What do you think of that idea?”

“Are you serious?” Pemrose asked. “I mean is this another political gimmick to keep people happy for a while?”

“No!” Bridges snapped. “I'm talking about a way we can actually create a quick system to tell who is acceptable to our police
officers and who isn't. We would be able to identify a terrorist immediately.”

“Remarkable,” Jack Stratton said. “And it only takes someone painting these nanomachines on a forehead?”

“They'll never wash off,” Bridge insisted. “Once the device is on the skin we can find anyone by simply punching in their
social security numbers on a computer and they'll come up like a flashing light.”

“How would we come at this politically?” Pemrose asked. “That's a sensitive issue for this current campaign.” He lit a cigar.
“People might be cautious about such an unusual idea.”

“Cautious?” Bridges grinned. “I'll tell you exactly how we'd turn fear into our ally.” He started pacing back and forth. “We'll
let our worthy opponent make his attack, scaring people to death. Then, we'll be ready to hit him right between the eyes.
We'll come back with our promise of providing total care for every citizen. All people have to do is come to a nanotechnology
center and have an invisible dot painted on their foreheads. In a second, they will be protected for life. Mayor Frank Bridges
has provided them with an immediate answer.”

“Brilliant!” Meacham said. “We give our opponent the rope he needs to hang himself. Then, we go riding off into the sunset
with him swinging from a tree.”

“And who would you vote for under those circumstances, boys?” Bridges asked confidently.

“Are these nanomachines available right now?” Graham asked.

“There's still a few problems they are ironing out, but the president tells me he can provide us with the security devices
in around two weeks,” Bridges said. “He's thinking about using them all over the country anyway. In a very short time we could
cover this city. Other than the time it takes to stand in line, people would have this nanomachine put on their heads with
the touch of a cotton swab. Bingo! It's done.”

“How much time will it take before our opponent hits this fear theme?” Stratton asked.

“I'd give him twenty-four hours,” Bridges said cynically. “Let him scream and holler for a couple of days. That's about all
it will take to get this show started.”

“Sounds right to me.” Pemrose tapped his cigar into an ashtray. “During the next two or three days we'll be secretly getting
our operation set up to spring on the public.” He pounded his fist into the palm of his hand. “We've already talked about
adding more surveillance cameras. I say, let's do it!”

The men nodded their approval, but Graham sat quietly pondering what he was hearing. The idea might be political dynamite
and it frightened him. This nanotechnology business was a door into a dream world that could turn into a nightmare. They were
playing with the possibilities of technological disaster.

“I appreciate your affirmation, gentlemen.” Bridges smiled broadly, but he kept watching Graham, obviously noticing his reluctance.
“I'll be talking further with the president this afternoon. Let's see where this takes us. Remember! For the time being, everything
is confidential.”

Pemrose and Meacham got up and hurried toward the door. Marks and Stratton followed them; only Graham stayed seated. Bridges
erased what he had scribbled on the board, but kept looking over his shoulder. Graham knew he was watching him.

“You seem to have some reservations?” Bridges turned around from the board.

“Frank, are we moving a little fast here?”

“What do you mean, Graham?”

Graham smiled at the typical Bridges retort. “We could be opening a can of mechanical worms that'll chew our heads off.”

“Explain.” Bridges kept smiling.

“What about the security aspect of these nanotechnology machines, Frank? After these devices are in place, wouldn't everyone
be under the constant surveillance of the government? I mean… couldn't the police instantly grab anyone who comes up on the
computer as a suspect for anything under the sun?”

“Well, Graham, I'm not even remotely considering putting people at risk. My idea is to isolate the terrorist.”

“I understand. However, in terms of surveillance the result is actually the same. People would no longer have privacy.”

“Have you talked with anyone about this?” Bridges asked.

“No, of course not. I just heard you present the idea a few moments ago.”

“Let's not spread this concern, Graham. It could create the wrong response.”

“I understand and I'm not trying to wave any red flags. I'm simply asking you a question. Wouldn't this make people easy targets
for the government?”

“I'll think about it,” Bridges said slowly, “but right now our concern is to keep people from getting killed. That's our big
problem. Security!”