Legacy of a Mad Scientist (2 page)

He would live with his sin for one more day. Maybe
tomorrow he would do something different. He leaned back in the
chair and rubbed his eyes. He could still get some sleep before
dawn.

He crossed to the couch in an upright crawl. The soft
leather was cool against his face. He would have to shave before
the long day of meetings.

Fox set a perimeter alert: while the computer
consumed its coins, it would scan the area and wake him before
anyone got too close.

Fox smiled as a concept arose in his mind.

Could he devise an algorithm that would allow the
system to spread its processing power to other objects, instead of
consuming them? It might be able to write to other items, which
would then work for it, nodes in its network, slaves to a master.
The Micronix could create bay stations for incoming data streams,
instead of internalizing everything.

He was sure it could be done. He worked out the
equations and committed them to memory, testing himself, intending
to measure his recollection in the clear light of morning.

A solution to a long-standing problem within reach,
relief washed through him. His muscles unknotted, and he drifted
off to sleep.

Twenty minutes later Fox woke, suddenly startled. He
looked across the room. The desk stood in place and black. The
chair stood away from the desk, afraid to be near it.

Fox rubbed his eyes and looked again. The light-green
desk was now matte black. He noticed the walls and ceiling. What
used to be gunmetal blue had taken on a distinctly darker tone.

Dr. Fox remembered the equations he'd thought of
earlier. He closed his eyes and focused. Sure enough, they had been
recorded by the Micronix and filed under Upload Process
Equations.

Fox pulled up the history logs, and there, dated just
after the thought, was a new process, Upload Transfer. He
terminated it.

It was possible the upload to the facility walls
could be diffused enough to go unnoticed, or at least not be blamed
on him. The desk was another issue all together. Fox opened the
patio doors.

A toilet in the nearby restroom flushed, and a moment
later Fox heard the sound of someone at the sink. He looked at the
device, the coins and knife, stacked on the feed plate.

The consumption had stalled as the Micronix occupied
itself with transferring data into the desk. The ends of the letter
opener were stuck out through the sidewalls of the machine, its
center being liquefied into nutrients for the kernel.

Fox pulled open the center desk drawer. It was metal;
they were all metal. He couldn't put the device in there with an
open feed plate. The machine would try to eat the desk, and he
didn't want to imagine the results. That would involve discovery on
a grand scale. The inky color of the desk was dangerous enough.

Dr. Fox activated a thirty-foot signal jam.

The Micronix confirmed the command as Rob Preston,
one of the acquisitions guys, entered the terminal bay.

Fox smelled the scotch and cigars. Preston had been
with the generals. Rob was one of those guys who behaved as if he
were twenty, well into is forties. It worked for him. Fox didn't
understand men who made a living by bartering partnerships. Preston
measured success by return on investment, not tangible benefit, or
contribution to all mankind.

Fox felt sorry for him, Preston could never
understand the scientists he worked with. As long as Fox had known
him, he'd never taken a stand on an issue. Though he had displayed
a dangerous talent for parroting data, and a nose for loose
investment capital.

"Fox, what's the deal? You're here late."

"Rest when I'm frozen," Fox replied.

"They'll never get that one. Long-term suspension?
Fool's gold. What would we do with it if we had it?"

"Deep-space exploration, maybe?"

"No profit margin."

Fox rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"What's that?" Rob asked, nodding to the device on
the desk.

Fox hesitated. He’d hoped Preston would miss it.

"Is that an undisclosed?" he asked.

"No," Fox smiled.

"You don't have any new projects on file with the
DOD."

"How would you know?" Fox replied.

"People are watching you, and I know that is not on
file." Preston was drunk, and the alcohol was catching up with him.
"That's undisclosed, I fucking know it is." Preston tapped the side
of his head.

The tapping of his head with his left hand, it would
be the left eye that was wired. Probably a straight model,
connected to the forebrain. He undoubtedly had a sub-dermal
personal data recorder, probably a series of implants under an arm
or along his hip.

Now Fox had to do something about the situation.

If Rob had kept his mouth shut, Fox could have denied
it. The images from the retinal implant could have been scrubbed,
and it would be one man's word against another. However, the audio
feed would be hardwired to the storage, and now that would have to
be erased, as well.

Using the Micronix, Fox hacked the optical signal and
accessed the executive's storage. Immediately Rob's security
registered the intrusion and tried to shut Fox out. The doctor
struggled with the daemons, but they had been upgraded. Fox
recognized them. He didn't have the data wedges to crack their
breakpoints. There was nothing he could do about the audio without
burning his entire system.

In an instant, it was over, he was beaten.

Unless…

The satellite coverage was spotty, but maybe he could
pull down the source code and find a structural gap big enough to
drive a shim into. He needed to stall.

"You negotiate, right?" Fox asked.

Preston burped. “Okay sure. This sounds fun. What’s
it do?”

“Anything you want really,” Fox replied.

Preston narrowed his eyes. “Anything?”

“Well, okay. Not anything. It’s a direct connection
to the net, right in your head. No wires, no plugs, non-invasive
technology. It beams a wireless signal directly into the forebrain.
No Lag, No Drag. If you can imagine it, this will help you find
it.”

“Doesn’t look like much,” Preston said.

Fox raised an eyebrow.
Damn
. The download had
stalled.

He couldn’t tell Preston everything, but he needed to
keep him interested until he could get another stream running.

“Are you kidding? This could replace an entire
technological sector overnight, And, I just had a break trough,
right now, before you walked in the room.”

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” Preston asked, clinging to
the conversational thread.

“That which goes down, must come up,” Fox
answered.

Preston collapsed around a wastebasket, vomiting.

Fox looked on in open disgust.

The download had started again but moved at a
crawl.

“You can see how valuable it is, can’t you?” Fox
asked.

“I can?” Preston replied, spitting into the
wastebasket and wiping his mouth.

“Sure you can. And that which can be written to, can
also be read.”
Why was Fox telling him this? He didn’t need to
know this.

Preston wiped his mouth, repulsed by the smell from
the wastebasket.

“The algorithm I used to write the code is similar to
modern telecoms, but I created a cubed switch structure to support
the human mind. It has limitless storage space. All of my research
is stored in that little device. I can generate and receive
correspondence over it. I can even crack other systems, without
leaving so much as a hint of my presence.” Fox was smiling at the
device, and realized he was talking to it and himself more than he
was Preston.

“You have to know, the FAD will rape you over this
one.”

“The Federal Acquisitions Department can bite me.
They have no proof.”

“They have me. And if that can do what you say it can
do, you know it’s a matter of National Security. That’s treason for
sure.”

Just a few more minutes.

“You know, after all this time, I still haven't
settled on a proper name for it,” Fox said. “For marketing
purposes, it could be called the Mental Computer Interface, as
that’s what it does, but lately I’ve been calling it, The
Micronix.”

Preston seemed to be listening, and the download was
almost finished now. Fox let it run.

“The thing's genesis felt more like discovery than
invention; as if it had been there all along, guiding me, one step
at a time. After the last upgrade to the interface, I have trouble
telling where the box leaves off, and my own mind begins.”
Preston Did Not Need To Know This!

“I mean, maybe the device named itself and then
filled me in. How would I know, right? It’s kind of difficult to
tell which thoughts are mine and which aren't. But Micronix is
still my suggestion for the marketing team.”

“You know how much investors love to rewrite the
title.” Preston held up a finger while his chin rested on his
chest, eyes to the floor behind closed lids.

The download was nearly there, but refused to
finish.

“I didn't think it can think, but if it can, I have
to confess, I might not know it. There isn't any way for me to
pinpoint the origin of my own thoughts, any more than the origin of
those that aren't mine. I’ll tell you, the concept disturbs me more
than a little bit.”

Preston raised his head and looked at Fox and
blinked.

Dr. Fox continued vocalizing thoughts he’d never
before spoken aloud. “When I use my own memory, I can easily recall
lots of information, but sometimes, after processing the data, I
often find myself working in the Micronix environment. I can’t
remember the last time I pressed the power button, the only button.
I mean, it’s always there, at the edge of my consciousness,
whenever I want it.”

Preston looked like he might pass out.

Fox continued, “If I’m doing something physical, it
can be more difficult to interface. Sometimes, if I’m too far away,
response times lag just a little, but those are minor glitches.
I’ve polished the interface to be as supportive to the human mind
as possible. I don’t see how it can be improved.”

The download chimed, it was done.

“Well, that’s not true. I still haven't really
figured out how to secure anything. Since I’m the only user, I
never focused on signal separation, or partitioning. Before it can
be made to work for the public, it needs testing.”

“You’re saying it can read your mind?” Preston
asked.

“Not just your mind,” Fox answered. “You.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Preston asked.

“I think, with what I just discovered tonight, I
think it can make you immortal,” Fox said. “Don’t you
understand?”

Preston shook his head.

Fox opened a file folder. He spread pictures of
constellations and nebulas across the desk. “See that,” he said,
pointing. “That’s Regulas. We can go there.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Deep space exploration, without the suspended
animation. We could go there. Tonight, if we wanted.” Fox lifted
the photo. “I took this, do you understand that?”

Preston laughed. “Next you’re going to say we’re all
stardust.”

“In a manner of speaking, that’s it exactly.” Fox
smiled.

“You’re crazy, man. You know that?” Preston coughed.
“Why take the risk? That’s what I don’t get. You’ve got everything.
Why take the risk?”

Fox reached for a writing tablet and set the device
on it, putting them in the center drawer where it could continue
its digestion in private.

“I hope it doesn’t slide off of this. It has a habit
of doing that if there’s metal nearby. It doesn't need to have the
feed tray out to eat. It can move itself to reach whatever might be
close at hand. If it slides off the tablet, it will try to eat the
desk. That’s how it got my handgun.” Fox was rambling.

Preston coughed.

“I haven’t calculated how the new equations will
affect its appetite. I mean, will it curb it, or kick it into
overdrive? It’s possible the signal requires massive amounts of
energy. Maybe it will need to eat more instead of less?”

Rob straightened up. “Maybe it will, Fox, maybe it
will. Did you ever think of that? You are so screwed. Even if
I
don’t say anything, sooner or later this is going to
explode on you. You do realize that, don’t you?”

Fox put a friendly arm over Preston's shoulders and
led him toward the open balcony door.

"Let's get you some fresh air, huh?"

Preston leaned over the railing, vomiting again.

Fox assessed his options. The download had finished,
but he didn’t bother opening it. He didn’t have the time to scan
new code, hoping for a flaw. He could burn the storage drives; it
might kill the drunken schmuck, or at least fry his mind, but even
if he purged the data stores, it would leave the security daemons
intact. Their logs would show an intrusion, but there would be no
evidence of what precipitated the hack. It would have to be sorted
in court.

Preston gave a forceful hurl, and consumed by a fit
of disgust, Fox seized the man by the knees and lifted him up over
the railing. He executed a coordinated attack on Preston's system,
burning everything, scorching his mind as he watched the man vanish
into the darkness below.

Fox crossed back to the desk and opened the
drawer.

The feed plate was no longer digesting the coins. He
lifted the interface, and they slid from the plate, the one-sided
coins and bits of letter opener clattering into the drawer.

Fox closed the plate and pocketed the device.

He pushed the desk across the concrete floor and out
onto the metal patio. The patio became stained with black splotches
where the desk touched it. Fox tipped it onto its side, against the
metal railing, and the inky color ran all across the bars.