SNEAK PEEK INSIDE!
Watching From Within by Daniel LaMonte
Chapter 1
Technology and the Law
Chief of Police, Charles Walker, stood to pace the ornate war room. The appointments were deserving of royalty. The floors were fashioned of marble tiles outlined in teak. The windowless walls, covered in large inlays of layered concave acrylic, displayed three-dimensional projections of various sections of the facility making nearly every square inch of the grounds visibly guarded. The conference table was a perfect dodecagon with a brushed nickel base, a deep glass top and a retractable graphic generator at its center. The table, although surrounded by a dozen ergonomic, executive chairs, played host to only one in attendance.
With an overwhelming sense of trepidation, Walker returned to the tufted high back. He thought he would feel better if he stood to walk the room to calm his anxious gait, but the chair hugged him comfortably and seemed to forgive him of the moment. Confronting his old friend with such dour news was yet another deep score into a relationship wrought with unhealed wounds. Never fully accepting the ever growing rift between them, Walker preferred to believe that the air of their friendlier past would surface again in time. Now, however, would likely not be that time.
Dr. Stephen Paul charged to the top of the world’s leading nano-biotic R&D firm wielding a seething sword against human malady. As a manufacturer of microscopic medical components, he grew and coded nanoscale machines measuring just billionths of an inch per dimension. Such miniscule systems are to this day easily adaptable within a body. By computer program, these particles can be joined together in various topographies to control the elimination of viruses and bacteria, the repair or replacement of damaged tissue and an infinite catalog of enhancements of a body’s natural abilities.
Even with a database replete with the unintended, problematic side effects of Stephen’s work, Walker’s thoughts gradually succumbed to the public’s recent obsession with the man. Godlike was He in His triumph over a foul human frailty that for all previous ages rendered the sufferer woefully impaired if not entombed. Dr. Paul’s nano-circuitry released into the bloodstream and trained for arterial cleansing virtually eliminated all physical diseases of the heart charting Him an unfollowable path to the ranks of the immortals of science. Not everyone, however, remained His supporter.
A vibration emanating from the wrist suddenly interrupted Walker’s thoughts. Scrolling across the throbbing face of the communicator was a statement from the Space Bay Medical Center. Doctors finally upgraded the condition of last evening’s attack victim from critical to stable. Walker found ample relief in the news given that the young woman was robbed at gunpoint then brutally abused in a manner beyond that required for the destruction of Babylon. His uplift in spirit, infused by her emergent recovery, was short-lived however. He returned his attention to the current venue in anticipation of the pending uneasiness and his mind again began to wander.
However noble the cause, the failed clinical human experiments should have left some mark on the good doctor’s conscience. Why had they not? Most science-minded people remained concerned about Stephen’s methods. As invention often does, his fresh discoveries fell upon an unready constituency. Crowds around the globe clamored for just a moment of a taste of a chance of a cure regardless of the risk. Yet, that early votary proved insufficient to armor Stephen against the media-backed outcry for change that ensued once the onslaught of after effects lying stealthily in wait began to surface. Science had not time or resource to exterminate fully the myriad of bugs so cleverly hidden in the system. Many participants lost their lives. Many still do. Let there be Law!
The pleasant, blue-tinted light swelling the room slowly began to morph into a less conformable, oddly smoky air. The moving pictures flashing about the wall froze then faded to black then to clear and reflective. The metal castings of the table illuminated outlining its skeleton. The center of the polygon began to stir and Walker took a deep, nervous breath.
Suddenly, an astute looking man with white hair about the shoulders, trimmed white beard with shadows of gray and a curved, lit, smoking pipe dangling from his lips, appeared from nothingness. He sat at the station most opposite the Chief at the farthest end of the table. Apparently, the man was not quite ready for the meeting as he busily reviewed the schedule displayed on the palm of his outstretched hand. The nano-graphic display, generated with a room full of microscopic pixels, was so convincing that Walker involuntarily began to rub the sweat from his palms as he had in the doctor’s presence whenever the news turned grim.
After several moments, the virtual Dr. Paul turned to look across the table. He unwrinkled the patent grimace on his face to reveal a well-trained smile. Lowering the pipe, a fresh smoky plume escaped from his lips as he spoke.
“Welcome, Charles. I intended to be with you in person, but my schedule got the best of me today. I was called away quite early this morning to my Freeport office. I expected to jet back in time to greet you, but as you can see…”
“That’s quite understandable, Stephen.”
“Well, then. I was delighted to hear from you. It has been so long since we’ve had a chance to visit, virtually or otherwise.”
Dr. Paul paused for a reply with a puff of his vintage Briar, but Walker did not offer any pleasantries.
“When we spoke last evening,” continued Dr. Paul, “you mentioned an urgent matter. Is this something that you wish to discuss with me now, here, or shall we postpone our meeting until I am able to be in the room?”
Removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes as if the permeation of virtual pipe-smoke gave cause, Walker began, “I had an interesting conversation yesterday with the district attorney.”
“Did you?”
“He informed me that he is planning to reopen the investigation. Apparently, he’s convened a panel of sources against you and the firm. Of course, I made it quite clear to him that, to the best of my knowledge, you are no longer involved in the trials.”
“You know that we closed that practice even prior to his inquiries last year. His ‘panel of sources’ must be up for reelection.”
“Well, I told Walsh that any intelligence in his favor is either hand-picked to skew the data or carefully crafted propaganda of the Zealoterian Militia. Still, he’s leaning on people in your own circle. I’m afraid that nothing I can say to him is going to call off his blood hounds.”
As he spoke, the Chief kept his eyes fixed upon the doctor’s likeness for the reaction to his words. However, he immediately conceded that although the nano-graphic images presented a scene as true as life, the system would not reveal any posture that Dr. Paul wished to conceal.
Walker continued, “It seems that you have a mutiny on your hands, Stephen. Whistleblowers have spoken. The State has apparently been quiet until now, but I understand that the counsellor is seeking an injunction, this time with criminal indictments. And, he assures me that he has the votes.”
The hologram was in stasis for several moments while Dr. Paul prepared his retort. He cleared his throat expelling a plume of smoke with a force greater than necessary to display his frustration. Then he spoke.
“That is very disappointing, Charles, very disappointing. I have such hope for the things we are doing here at Gensitech. But, admittedly I”– a sigh –“I suppose I have always known that I could not keep my work shut up forever, that we would be compelled to disclose our confidences, eventually.
“But, we are not ready. No, the world is not ready! We must proceed with extreme caution. An investigation during this sensitive time would be catastrophic to our progress. Our own understanding of the magnitude of our findings is still incomplete.
“And, you, Charles. This chaos may put you in a very difficult position. You may need to make a choice. We’ve had our differences over the years, but you have always stood by me.” Then after a thoughtful pause he asked, “Will you stand by me now?”
Walker raised his eyebrows, focused on the tabletop and swallowed hard as he silently pondered the question.
“I pride myself on knowing good people, on surrounding myself with those that believe in our visions, on having a team loyal to their last breath,” said Dr. Paul, “but, perhaps some of my fold have chosen another path.
“I assure you that any desertion of my people is not the result of broken laws but is in direct response to the domestic terror activity against the Corporation. My team is frightened to the core. Until recently, we have been able to keep worker identities a secret but there is a leak somewhere in the machine. Perhaps the exposed are feigning whistleblowing measures as a means of being passed over by the radicals.
“The Zealoterian Militia has claimed the lives of a dozen of my lead nanoscientists, several over the past year. They have drone-bombed four of our laboratories in the last 90 days. Believe it if you can, these militia extremists actually feel that by killing our researchers they are performing a service to humanity!
“No, Charles, it is quite evident, an untimely investigation, which will undermine the privacy of my people and expose our intelligence gathering technology to the public, will undoubtedly mean we must brace ourselves for a war.”
Walker tilted his head, raised his arm and spoke into his wristcom, “Transmit file E11-17 to Paul, Stephen. Gensitech catalog. Level 5 security. Feedback ON. Join.” The crystal on his wrist flashed with a warm aqua glow and almost immediately in a pleasant female voice the device replied, “Join completed.” Then, the communicator’s illumination darkened.
Nearly simultaneously, the virtual wrist of Dr. Paul flashed blue. He pressed his thumb to the perimeter of his wristcom. The crystal light faded to a green hue and a mechanized voice said, “Level 5 security access granted. File E11-17 to Screen 2.” Then, the room lighting dimmed.
With a flicker, a set of acrylic panels from the conference room wall fused in a three-dimensional formation. Several highly focused streams of variable frequency light emanated from somewhere behind slotted compartments in the ceiling. A sophisticated animation, beginning with pixels flying all around the room, melded into a spherical rendering of the Gensitech corporate logo hovering above the table. A musical tone echoed throughout the meeting chamber just long enough to deserve attention. Once the file loaded, the start-up tone faded and the system began to replay the contents of secure file E11-17 in nano-graphically generated, three-dimensional virtual reality, so lifelike, that both men felt as though they were present at the time of the incidents.
Blue uniforms flooded the stage as a team of police officers confronted a sole Caucasian man in his late twenties. At first glance, the scene appeared to be a routine stop for an air traffic citation. However, the officers began a detailed search of his hovercopter, parked atop Quasar Tower across from the New Harbor City Sky-7 precinct. Clearly, the violation was something more.
The detainee walked to the back of the vehicle to speak to the lead investigator performing the search. When the two were standing within a few feet of each other, Walker pointed his finger at the screen on the boardroom wall. The camera zoomed to a much closer view of a slim, young detective. The sharp dressed gumshoe sported a scruffy mustache and goatee to complement his full, jet-black, curly hair and his laid-back manner, appropriate of a Florida native.
“This, as I am sure you are aware from the papers, is detective Mitchell Page,” the Chief said as he waved at Screen 2 to pause its motion. “He just made Lieutenant. I’ve asked him to lead the criminal investigation, which includes each incident of violence against you and the corporation. Last week he questioned several suspected members of the Zealoterian Militia. While performing a routine identity scan, Page discovered their brain-prints to be erratic, rendering them virtually invisible to our security monitors. It seems as though the Zealoterian followers have found a way off the grid.”
Silence.
“The young gentleman that Page is questioning here is someone you will remember, Stephen.”
Dr. Paul set his pipe onto a crystal cigar tray.
Walker waved at the screen, which jumped forward in time several minutes. The motion on the console continued. Detective Page was using a hand-held scanning wand when he found the hot spot. The detective positioned the scanner directly over the face of the young man under investigation. Pulling the monitor back to read the data, he mumbled, “That’s odd. Where’s his brain signature?”
Immediately the detective received an urgent call on his private channel.
“Mitchell! Mitchell!” was the scratch over the com, “It’s Chief Walker. Transmit that scanner signal directly to my office. I want that bio-pattern analyzed in the lab. I’m not sure what we’re looking at here, but it’s definitely not Zealoterian related. Page, please ensure that young Dr. Baine is comfortable and that he is not detained any longer.”
“Roger, Chief. Page out.”
Walker once again waved a hand to pause Screen 2. With a second wave, he zoomed-in on the detained.
“Jesse Baine,” he said. “I’m sure that name still means something to you, right?”
“Absolutely, you know it does. Tall, long black hair, large brown eyes, strong chin, muscular build. All he needs is a handlebar mustache and he would be his father’s clone.”
Walker agreed.
Scratching his head, coiling up his face and speaking almost to himself, Dr. Paul continued.
“I lost track of young Jesse some time ago, after all his family made sure that he had the proper care. The signals from the implant were disabled when he came of age. There was no need to monitor the graft further, our job was done.”
Turning back to face Walker, Dr. Paul continued, “Then, of course all hell broke loose with the law affecting every experiment in our portfolio. The Zealoterian terrorists began to claim lives, the trial disrupted years of development and put tremendous financial pressure on the firm, and, well any additional experiments on those older circuits such as Jesse’s implant would have been far too risky to continue.”
Walker raised his eyebrows, pursed his lips and nodded in agreement. Then he motioned to resume the video.
On screen, Mitchell walked a bit closer to Jesse as he re-clasped the scanning-wand to his belt and signaled to the other officers that all was clear.
“Baine, the Chief says that you’re free to go. But, if I were you, I would get myself to a doctor right away.”
“A doctor? What for?”
“This old wand won’t tell me what’s happening in your head, but, your brain-print is definitely not right.”
“My what?”
Page unsheathed his power-diode flashlight and directed a point-blank beam of 200 uninterrupted Watts of light into Baine’s face for emphasis.
Suddenly, Jesse raised his hand to his left cheek. Pain started welling from the very moment of the flash. Breath after breath, the powerfully sharp migraine intensified. Page stood paralyzed as he watched the young man before him crumble. Jesse gasped as he fought back the biting beast tearing ever more forcefully through his face. Turning inward to disengage the sting from his body his adrenalin soared to its mortal limit. In one expunging blast, he launched the cerebral concentration like a missile into the emptiness around him. As Jesse fell to the ground, exhausted, a shockwave struck Page with an impact that projected him through the air, across the sky-pad and flat on his back.
Walker waved at the screen yet again and the scene flashed forward several more minutes. Page was the first to regain consciousness. He scrambled back, reached for a set of mag-cuffs and locked Baine to the hovercopter. Once all was secure, he brushed himself off and tapped his wristcom. The call connected quickly.
“Look, Chief, we’ve got a code six-seven here. I already signaled for an ambulance. Space Bay Med will be here in five. Baine is out cold. Did you see what happened? He went into some kind of fit and belted me with a stunner.” For a moment, there was silence.
Since Detective Page was listening through an earring coil, a communication device pierced like a stud through his earlobe, rather than using his wristcom speaker, Chief Walker and Dr. Paul could hear only one end of the conversation.
“No, no, Chief, I’m fine. It just knocked the wind out of me, that’s all. When I clear the scene, I’ll hover to Space Bay Med myself.”
Walker, interested in sharing both sides of the exchange, paused the screen. He whispered something barely audible into his wrist and waved at the conference room wall. With the hissing of several motor drives, an additional plate robotically assembled to the right of the panel projecting Mitchell Page. Within moments, the streams beaming from the ceiling brought a second scene into focus.
In his Jupiter Street office, Chief Walker, seated with his boots resting on his desk, glared at a large, flat screen displaying a map of New Harbor City. Traffic-light colored icons identified the various yellow, city alerts and red, city emergencies in progress. One unique blinking, red icon was slightly larger than the rest. A thin line from the center of the icon pointed to Detective Page’s name in the officer list. When Walker waved for the action to continue, both screens synchronized into one.
“No, that was not a stun gun from Baine. Whatever hit you came from outside the surveillance range. We’re reviewing data from the wide-angles and the views from Neptune Street now. We should know what happened this afternoon. Anyway, I expect you were hit with a stray pulse from the other side of the Tower. Team Delta was breaking up a robbery in progress at the plaza while you were speaking to Baine.”
Page raised his right hand in salute position to shade his eyes from the sun as he swept the horizon for remnants of Team Delta. Jesse remained unconscious, lying bound and twisted on the ground beside his hovercopter.
The Chief continued, “Look, Mitchell, Baine is not a radical. He’s a scientist at the university labs uptown. He has breakfast at Antoinette’s Place every morning. He and his girlfriend walk Space Bay Park after work every evening and they sneak a nip at O’Spirits Lounge on the weekends. He’s not involved with the Zealoterian hackers.”
“Damn, Chief. You sure have a load of bravo sierra on a guy that’s not involved.”
“Well, let’s just say our paths have crossed a time or two. This might be a big town, but remember, Dr. Cedric Baine was a big man in his day.”
Page made the connection.
“Hey, I’ve seen Dr. Baine’s old file, Chief. His obit said that he invented some kind of medical implant. The Zealoterian Militia could not have had a bigger prize back in the day. I just wonder if those damn terrorists haven’t honed in on a new, younger target.”
Another motion from the conference table moved time forward yet again. Detective Page was gone and in his place, the likeness of District Attorney Walsh sat alone on a metallic red, replica 1957 Chevy Bel Air golf cart somewhere between the fifth green and sixth tee at the Space Bay Country Club. A Scrub Jay was pecking a peanut from his fingers as his high security wristcom call was connected.
“Walker? Walsh. I’d like to have a few words with you, and I’ll get right to the point. I’m shooting a career round here and I don’t want my irons to cool.” Shooing the Jay from his hand he continued.
“Chief, I think it’s finally time to take another long, close look at Gensitech Corporation. Paul is up to something. Several informers have come forward against the firm. They can substantiate a clear connection between last year’s mysterious blood poisoning pandemic killing over a thousand people in the southeast and a curious nanoscale parasite found lodged onto the auditory nerve of the inflicted.”
“Blood poisoning caused by manmade, microscopic machines? Proving a correlation is unlikely, don’t you agree, Mr. Walsh? Doctors have only conflicting opinions on how anyone contracted the disease and everything I’ve seen thus far points the finger at several other possibilities, each as viable as the other. Do you have clear evidence of criminal activity?”
“As I’m sure you are well aware, Chief, often it’s the absence of clear evidence that tells you that you’re on target. A magician is unlikely to be successful if he leads an observer to his slight-of-hand.
“I may have been but a junior assistant prosecutor in the original case, State versus Gensitech, but a hung jury never sat well with me. Maybe this is our chance to finally take the Wizard down.”
“Well, if we dig deep enough we’re likely to find a few bones, I’m sure, but in my experience an ‘absence of clear evidence’ is a reasonable doubt. In this case, should your absence of evidence become actual proof, wouldn’t the new law take this matter out of local control? I would expect the FBI to be leading this investigation.”
“Walker, we will take care of Florida business right here in New Harbor City. This is a crime against the State.”
“Don’t get me wrong. If I had even a chestnut of corroborating evidence, I’d be first in line at your door seeking warrants. But, for the time being we’ve got nothing.”
“My team is preparing a report detailing personal observation of firmware tampering for Gensitech Corporation’s arterial medication. The experiments have started again but this time they are illegal. A little more discovery and I will have what I need to nail Paul to the– ouch!”
The attorney jumped from the golf cart and began brushing away the swarm of enemies attacking his ankles. His otherwise polished demeanor rapidly wrinkled by the power of his amygdala as he mumbled, “Damned fire ants! They’re all over me! I’ll have blisters for a month!”
“OK, well, thanks for the good news, counselor! Keep me abreast of the findings of your investigation. Of course, if you need our assistance in any way the New Harbor City Police department is always ready to serve.”
Still swatting the demons from his cuff, the attorney gave a half-hearted salute and cut the communication short.
Dr. Paul waved his virtual hand to stop the video. He stood up nervously, knocked the spent tobacco ash out of his Briar and tapped his wristcom to save file E11-17 for a later viewing.
“Charles,” he said, “I will be back in town this afternoon. Let us resume our discussion at that time. Considering all I have seen here this morning, there is still a great deal of information that I would like to share with you. What if we meet here in the war room at 1700 hours?
“Very well,” agreed Walker.
“Alright, I’ll see you then. And, Charles, thank you for the briefing.”
The symphony of lights in concert above them stopped. The panels went black, moved back into standby, and the low benign hum of the sound system subsided. The center of the polygon stirred once again. The image of the doctor vanished and the nano-graphic generator sunk deep into the center of the table.
Chief Walker moved forward in his chair. Not quite ready to rise, he rested his elbows on the glass, his hands on his face and exhausted a well-deserved sigh of relief.
