The Siren Project (26 page)

Mouse hurried into the computer room and
hooked into the Institute’s central computer. “Hey Knightly, unlock the central
computer's firewall.”

There was silence for a moment, as Knightly
let Peter loose on the Institute's inner sanctum. “How’s that?”

“Perfect!”

“Mitch.” Gunter's voice sounded in their
ears, “You should see this.” Gunter’s voice was strangely agitated. “Come to
the Chimp Room.”

Mitch glanced at Christa, whose cheeks
glistened through the gas mask with tears. He switched his mike off. “You okay?”

She nodded solemnly.

“You sure? You can stay here with Mouse if
you like.”

“I’ll come.”

Mitch switched his mike back on. “We’re on
our way.”

They took the elevator to the top floor,
then quickly moved from room to room, until they found the Chimp Room. Gunter
stood behind a computer console, wearing a dark helmet pulled loosely down over
his gas mask. A small machine covered his eyes where a visor should have been,
metallic gloves on his hands and velcro fastened overshoes covering his boots. The
five pieces of equipment were attached to black cables that reached from the
roof down to a bank of computers. From the computers, more cables stretched out
to a machine mounted on the roof of a reinforced glass cube in the center of
the room. The wires reached down from the machine to an aging chimpanzee that
stood facing Gunter. They connected to the monkey via a metal cap attached to
the top and back of the animal’s head.

Mitch stared at the strange set up,
confused. “What’s this?”

“Virtual monkey,” Gunter said, as he raised
his right hand.

The chimp raised its right hand, perfectly
miming Gunter's movement. Its eyes were open, but vacant, yet it breathed
gently as if asleep from the gas pervading its chamber. Gunter lowered his
right hand and raised his left. The chimp mirrored the actions perfectly. Gunter
walked two steps, left foot first, followed by the right. The chimp moved as if
they were one. Gunter turned his head left, then right, in perfect unison with
the primate.

“It does whatever I do, and more. I see the
room through the chimp’s eyes. They’ve wired the animal so they can receive
optical signals passing through the chimp’s brain, and can generate electrical
impulses to control its movements.” Gunter reached down to the console in front
of him, the chimp’s hands moving with him. When he turned off the device, the
chimp collapsed on the floor, fast asleep.

Gunter peeled off the virtual reality
equipment. “Remarkable. They have mapped the chimp’s brain so perfectly, it is
no more than a puppet.”

Mitch’s eyes retraced the path from the
virtual reality gear, along the cables, through the computers to the unfortunate
monkey. “That’s what they’re trying to do for the human brain.”

Christa was revolted. “It’s the most
disgusting thing I’ve ever seen. That poor monkey must be . . .” For a moment,
she couldn’t find the words to describe the animal's fate. “. . . so unhappy.”

“I would be,” Mitch said, “If someone had
me wired like a marionette.”

“No living creature should be treated like
that,” Christa said in a low voice.

“Anything else up here?”

“Several laboratories,” Gunter replied. “One
is full of nuclear materials, the kind injected in people for brain scans. There
is a clean room with an air lock, and an operating theater inside, probably for
working on the test animals–”

“And for autopsies,” Mitch added, thinking
of the floating brains in the Cool Room.

“Around the corner is a room with a machine
called a magnetoencephalograph.”

Mitch blinked. “You want to give me that in
English?”

“I do not know what it does, but it looks
important.”

Knightly’s voice sounded over the radio. “The
MEG measures the magnetic fields generated by active neurons. They’re the
particles that make connections within the brain. By measuring the magnetic
fields, it can map what happens inside the brain, what part of the brain
controls which function. We suspected one of the keys to this technology was
how they mapped the brain with extraordinary precision. There are, after all,
billions if not trillions, of possible combinations of neurological pathways.”

“How many of these MEG things are there?”
Mitch asked, noticing Christa was transfixed by the unconscious monkey.

“Very few,” Knightly replied. “Only the
best universities here, in Western Europe and Australia have them. There
couldn’t be more than a dozen in the entire world. We’ve been trying to get
access to one for months, with no luck. No doubt the instrument you’ve found
has been heavily modified. It may even be unique.”

“Good,” Mitch said, “We’ll blow it to hell.
G, slap enough C4 on that thing to turn it into a paper weight. That'll slow
these sons of bitches down.”

Gunter nodded and hurried out toward the
MEG Room.

Mitch hooked his hand under Christa’s arm. “That’s
enough, we've got work to do.” Gently he eased her away from the glass, toward
the door.

“We can’t leave him here,” she whispered.

Mitch glanced at the chimp, studying the
metal cap affixed to its skull. “Trying to remove those wires would kill it. You
heard what G said, they’re connected to its brain. That can't be good.”

Mitch guided her through the door, then
turned toward the elevator, but she resisted.

“That’s the cruelest thing I’ve ever seen
done to an animal.” The images of the screaming woman on the videotape flashed
through her mind. There was nothing that could be done for the woman, but the
chimp was another matter. She produced her gun. “Wait here.”

“No.” Mitch caught her arm. “I’ll do it. The
C4 would take care of it, but I'll make sure it's quick and painless.” He drew
his gun and went back into the Chimp Room. A moment later, Christa heard the
crack of glass shattering as Mitch fired a single bullet into the monkey's
head. He returned, pocketing his gun. “It didn’t feel a thing.”

Christa was surprised at the trace of
emotion in his voice, but said nothing.

They met Gunter at the elevator, then
hurried back to the computer room, where the work station screens were cycling
through the security camera images from around the Institute. Mouse hardly
noticed their arrival, and had clearly stopped watching the security cameras,
so focused was he on his work.

“Found anything?” Mitch asked.

Mouse raised his hand, waving Mitch to
silence. “Are you sure, Professor? I thought you said that thing could unlock
anything.”

“Apparently not,” Knightly said, mystified.

“Trouble?”

Mouse indicated the screen with a flashing
red rectangle with the words: ACCESS DENIED. “Saint Peter isn’t all it’s
cracked up to be.”

“It must be something they developed
themselves,” Knightly said.

“I thought we had control of their systems?”
Christa said.

“Security systems, yes,” Mouse replied. “They're
government issue, but their data security system is home grown. Peter doesn’t
have the key.”

“Can you get anything useful?” Mitch asked.

“I can tell you, this is just a research
station, not the headquarters.”

“How do you know?”

“These computers aren’t powerful enough for
the stuff they do here. They’re okay for the local network, for data analysis
and retrieval, but they’re hooked into something else for the real work,
something far more powerful. They’ve got a satellite link and a fiber optic
connection, but I can’t figure out what to. Peter can’t open the door to the
other end. Whatever it is, it -”

Suddenly all the monitors in the computing center
went blank, even Mouse’s notebook seemed to crash.

“What the . . .?” Mouse leaned his head
down toward the laptop, angling his ear toward the small machine sitting in
front of him, listening. He could hear his hard drive spinning fast. “Shit!” He
ripped the cable connecting his computer to the Institute's network, then
rebooted the machine, killing the programs that were running.

“What happened?” Gunter asked, walking
forward to inspect the now dead computer terminals.

“They know we’re here. Just like in
Washington. They took over and cut me out, real fast!”

“This is very odd,” Knightly's voice
sounded over the radio.

“What is?” Mitch demanded.

“Peter. I’m getting some very strange
responses–”

“Disconnect now!” Mouse yelled. “They’ve
tracked back up the signal to you. Kill the power!”

Knightly went silent as he worked quickly
to isolate Peter from the intruder. “Okay, I’ve severed the connection.”

“Gus,” Christa said. “How long was Peter
acting strangely?”

“I'm not sure, maybe a minute.”

“A minute to these guys is an eternity,”
Mouse said. “They’ve had a good look at Peter now.”

“You mean, they know what it is?” Knightly
asked surprised.

“Probably. You certainly got their
attention.”

“Do we have anything?” Mitch asked.

“Nothing!” Mouse declared. “We lost it all.”

“I can’t risk reconnecting Peter,” Knightly
said.

“And I’m completely locked out,” Mouse sighed
as he watched his computer cycle back to life. “The bastards back-orificed me!”

“They did what?” Christa asked.

“Ran back up the line, into my computer. Tricky
stuff, considering I've got defenses against that sort of thing. Or I thought I
did. No way to tell how much of my hard disk they copied.”

Mitch stared at all the blank screens
anxiously. “So who's got the security system?”

“They do.” Mouse said. “They can see
everything!”

Mitch glanced up at the room's security
camera, realizing they were being watched, then he darted for the door, too
late. There was a click as the lock bolted itself shut, trapping them inside. “G,
we're going to have to blast our way out. Shape a charge. We're leaving.”

“They must be sending people here now,”
Knightly said over the radio, his voice calm, but apprehensive. “I can’t let
them get Peter.”

“We understand, Gus,” Christa said. “Thanks.”

“He’s leaving?” Mouse asked surprised.

Mitch nodded. “No choice.”

“But we’re still in here!”

“We are expendable,” Gunter said and he
reached into his backpack for explosives.

The blank screens in the room came to life
with white letters on black.

WHY DID YOU KILL BOBO?

Mitch glanced from screen to screen, then
realized the meaning. “The chimp?”

JOHN MITCHELL, WHY DID YOU KILL BOBO?

“How do I answer?”

Mouse waved toward the terminals. “Pick a
keyboard.”

Mitch sat down and typed:
Who is this?

EB.

Christa sat at a key board and typed:
We wanted to put the monkey out of his misery. It was cruel what
they were doing to him!

BOBO RESPONDED TO THE NEURAL DESIGN WITHIN
ACCEPTABLE PARAMETERS.

Christa replied:
Even
an animal has a right to free will!

All the screens went blank. Mouse glanced
at Mitch. “You want me to hook in to the system again?”

Gunter kneeling by the door, attached a small
explosive over the lock, then turned back to them. “Ready.”

Mitch stared at the security camera
thoughtfully. “Wait. I think only EB knows we’re here.”

A minute passed, then the screens came to
life again.

I AM NOT DISPOSED TO INFLICT SUFFERING.

I DO NOT TAKE PLEASURE IN THE PAIN OR
DISTRESS OF ANOTHER.

Mouse looked puzzled. “Am I the only one
who thinks EB is short a few marbles?”

Mitch typed in:
Unlock
the door EB, we have to leave now.

No sound issued from the door lock.

“Let’s blow the door and get out of here,”
Mouse said nervously.

YOU SAY BOBO DID NOT HAVE FREE WILL, YET BOBO
RESPONDED TO THE NEURAL DESIGN WITHIN ACCEPTABLE PARAMETERS.

“What's going on here?” Mitch typed:
Bobo had no choice, because his mind was controlled. He did not
decide to do those things himself! He obeyed, but he had no choice. He had no
right of refusal.

The screens blanked out again, but this
time only briefly.

FREE WILL REQUIRES NEURAL DESIGN TO
ORIGINATE FROM BOBO?

Yes.

I AM CRUEL.

“Blow the door, man,” Mouse said. “We’re
sitting ducks in here.”

Does anyone know we are
here?
Mitch asked.

THEY WILL BE THERE IN SIX MINUTES.

The computer room door unlocked. Mitch
jumped to his feet and started for the door.