Genocide of One: A Thriller (28 page)

On the Indonesian island of Flores, until only twelve thousand years ago, there was
a species of human called
Homo floresiensis
, or Flores man. These individuals were only a meter tall. Their cranial capacity
was only a third of modern man’s, but they were intelligent, able to use fire, make
stone implements, and hunt. Kento found it surprising that modern humans had lived
on the same island with
Homo floresiensis
for tens of thousands of years. In other words, for tens of thousands of years, the
two species had coexisted on one island. It wasn’t clear whether they had much contact
with each other, but even now in Flores there were legends told of tiny people who
lived in caves. But like so many species before them, Flores man died out.

Whether it was Flores man, Neanderthals, or Peking man, when all these species of
humans went extinct there must have been one final survivor. This person had a mind,
had feelings, and could grasp the situation he was in. He—or she—must have understood
that no one else of the species remained, that he was the last and completely and
utterly alone. The loneliness and despair must have been overwhelming. Kento felt
his chest tighten at how miserable the person must have felt.

If even one of the warnings in the Heisman Report proved to be true, mankind would
suffer the same fate. Kento returned the books to the shelves and left the library,
pondering again section 5. It made sense to think that mankind was still evolving.
There was no biological proof whatsoever that evolution stopped with present-day human
beings.

As he walked down the streets of Setagaya, Kento pulled his copy of the Heisman Report
out of his pocket. The report said that when these “superhumans” appeared they would
“possess an intelligence that vastly surpasses ours.” Regarding the properties of
this intelligence, the report had stated, “They will have the ability to perceive
a fourth dimension, to immediately grasp complex wholes; they will have a sixth sense,
an infinitely developed moral consciousness—mental qualities that are incomprehensible
to us.”

Kento was especially struck by the fact they would be able to
grasp complex wholes
. For a scientist, such an ability was a kind of dream. Within a cell, for example,
there are many signal transmissions connected to the mechanism that produces PAECS.
The thousands of interconnected biochemical reactions were so complex that it was
impossible for humans to grasp even the entire workings of a single cell. It was beyond
human intellect.

But what if it
were
possible?

Kento suddenly came to a halt, the people behind him almost bumping into him. He stood
stock-still in the middle of the street in this busy shopping district as all the
clamor and noise around him faded away.

Beyond human intellect
.

The words swirled around in his head. And he could hear Jeong-hoon Lee’s voice.

No human could create this kind of software
.

If an evolved species did appear, though, wouldn’t it be possible for it to create
a perfect software that designed new drugs? Software that could make a three-dimensional
model of the protein, design the material that would bond with it, and even correctly
predict the pharmacokinetics of the drug?

He made it appear to reveal tremendously complex biological activity down to the level
of molecules and electrons
.

But what if GIFT didn’t
appear
to show this, but actually
did
reveal this complex biological activity? Didn’t this mean that the kind of evolution
the Heisman Report warned about was already taking place on the earth?

Kento looked down, pushed his glasses back up his nose, and continued to ponder this.
If an intellect that surpasses that of humans appeared in this world, how would a
superpower like the United States cope with it? Wouldn’t they try to kill it? Even
if they attempted to use this superhuman intellect for their own benefit, they couldn’t
handle it. Not only would they be unable to control it, they risked being controlled
themselves.

And what sort of actions would this “super race” take? The Heisman Report predicted
that it would try to destroy the human race, but Kento wasn’t convinced. First of
all, our inferior intellect couldn’t predict what sort of judgment this superintellectual
species would make. After all, the individuals possess
mental qualities that are incomprehensible to us
. Also there was the one clue that suggested their intentions—namely, GIFT. If this
truly was a complete software system created to design drugs, then it was indeed a
gift to the human race. Far from destroying us, the super race would have given a
boon to mankind, an invention that would save us from countless diseases. Creating
this software could be their message to us that they were not our enemy.

Kento felt he was getting a little ahead of himself, so he returned to the starting
point. Directly or indirectly his father must have come into contact with this superhuman
intelligence and gotten hold of GIFT. And if the United States had then gotten wise
to this and moved to stop it, everything that had happened would make perfect sense.
But in order to prove his hypothesis Kento would need to get evidence that this super
race actually existed.

But how?

Kento racked his brains and finally came up with an answer. If he used GIFT and actually
produced a drug that would cure pulmonary alveolar epithelial cell sclerosis, this
would be at least indirect corroboration that this new species actually existed. Human
beings, at their present state of knowledge, weren’t capable of creating software
like that—software that was perfect.

But to produce this drug he would need reinforcements. He’d have to get that brilliant
Korean exchange student to help out. As he tried to figure out a way to get in touch
with Jeong-hoon Lee, Kento realized he still was in luck.

“Kento? What’s up?” Doi’s relaxed voice on the other end of the line gave Kento a
touch of hope. “The caller ID said ‘unavailable,’ so I was wondering who it was.”

“My cell phone’s broken. I wanted to ask you—have you been hearing any strange rumors?”

“Strange rumors? What do you mean?”

“It’s okay. If you don’t have any idea what I’m talking about, that’s fine.”

Doi still hadn’t heard about the police investigation. The police hadn’t traced who
among the other grad students were Kento’s friends, so they wouldn’t have found out
yet about Jeong-hoon Lee.

“Oh—you’re calling about that, huh?” Doi suddenly said, startling Kento.

“That?”

“That girl in the humanities.”

He meant Marina Kawai. “I wish I were, but no.”

“If you buy me lunch I’ll let her know you’d like to go on a date.”

Set up a date? This was hardly the time. He was on the run from the law, for God’s
sake. “No, that won’t work.”

“Really? If not lunch, how about a coffee?”

“No. I’m really busy now and can’t take the time. Okay, I’ll see you.”

“Hold on. Is that all you called about?”

“Yeah.” Doi seemed less than convinced, so Kento added, “Don’t tell anybody I called,
okay? I’ll fill you in on everything pretty soon.”

“Got it,” Doi said, his tone showing he didn’t get it at all. “Whenever you feel like
buying me lunch, give me a call.”

“Okay.”

Kento hung up, shook off the mental picture of Marina Kawai, and looked back at the
list of phone numbers he’d written down. He punched in a number, hoping the call would
go through, and heard the voice he’d been waiting for.

“Hello?”

“Jeong-hoon? This is Kento Koga.”

“Oh!” Jeong-hoon exclaimed, which put Kento on his guard. Had something bad happened?

“Did you hear the message I left you?” Jeong-hoon said excitedly.

“No. Did something happen?”

“It’s about GIFT. I tested the program. Pretty thoroughly.”

“And?”

Jeong-hoon hesitated a moment. “Don’t laugh when I say this, but that program is for
real.”

Though he’d expected this, Kento still couldn’t help but be surprised. He paused to
take a breath. “How did you verify that?”

“Our lab is doing joint research now with a pharmaceuticals company. I inputted the
chemical structure of the new drug we’re working on into GIFT so it could predict
the results. And it got everything absolutely correct, including the side effects.
We haven’t published this data anywhere, so GIFT calculated this all on its own. It’s
the same as if we’d experimentally verified GIFT’s predictions.”

“Did you just try one compound?”

“No. I tried two lead compounds and ten derivatives, and all the data on structure-activity
relationship was within the margin of error. It can’t just be a coincidence.”

“Jeong-hoon,” Kento said, trying to keep his voice from rising in pitch. “What’s your
schedule tonight?”

“I can leave the lab at six.”

“It’s a little far, but could you come to Machida?”

“Machida? Where’s that?”

Kento told him where it was, on the other side of Tokyo. “I have my motorcycle,” Jeong-hoon
said, “so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Just be careful you’re not being tailed.”

“Tailed?”

“That nobody’s following you.” Kento decided it was only fair to let Jeong-hoon know
of the risk he was taking. “I have to apologize in advance, but we’re getting into
something pretty risky here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Worst-case scenario, the police will grab you and kick you out of Japan.”

On the other end of the line Jeong-hoon was speechless.

“If you don’t mind the risk, then I’d really like you to come over.”

After a moment Jeong-hoon asked, “That’s the worst case?”

“Yeah.”

“And the best case?”

“We save the lives of one hundred thousand children.”

“I see,” Jeong-hoon said, his voice upbeat again. “I’ll be there.”

While he was
waiting for his superiors to arrive, Rubens stayed in the little conference room
off the main operations center and reviewed the material they had on the mission.

First was the NSA intercept of Kento Koga’s communications. Kento had accessed an
online protein data bank and done a BLAST search for “mutant GPR769.” Next he’d phoned
someone named Yoshihara and asked to see him. His goal was to gather information on
pulmonary alveolar epithelial cell sclerosis. According to the CIA, Yoshihara was
an intern at a university hospital.

Then there was the call from a public phone in New York, the warning call to Kento.
The NSA had scrutinized the synthetic message, which used an artificial voice, and
concluded that the Japanese was unnatural. The meaning was clear enough, but the sentences
sounded odd to a native speaker. NSA linguists soon cleared up this mystery. They
inputted English sentences into commercial translation software and came up with exactly
the same Japanese sentences. Most likely the person who sent the warning to Kento
Koga didn’t know Japanese and had the software translate some simple sentences. The
question was, who was this person? And why had he accessed Operation Nemesis?

Rubens looked through the last report, a list of private defense contractors killed
by insurgents in Iraq. Included in the list were fifteen operatives who should have
been chosen for Operation Guardian. Since the candidates had, one after another, been
killed, the other members—other than Warren Garrett, who’d been at the bottom of the
list—moved up. Three of them had reached the top: Jonathan Yeager, Mikihiko Kashiwabara,
and Scott Meyers.

The White House had begun to view these precise attacks by Iraqi insurgents with some
alarm. The enemy lay in wait along the routes the military contractors took. But how
were they getting hold of the details of top-secret operations? Could someone be intercepting
and decrypting American military communications?

For a while Rubens turned his attention to these attacks in Iraq—to one incident in
particular, in which four military contractors were slaughtered in a provincial city.
These former Special Forces ops were ambushed in the street and shot and killed at
close range. People nearby, ordinary Iraqis whose worsening feelings for Americans
exploded into rage, had shouted out a chorus of
Allahu akbar!
Military contractors operated outside the bounds of law, so they could, and did,
kill ordinary Iraqi citizens with impunity. And this domineering attitude helped spur
anti-US sentiment. The corpse of one of the Americans was kicked so badly the head
was wrenched off, while another was hung from a bridge on the main highway.

The United States was merciless in its response to this atrocity. Along with the Iraqi
army, they formed a joint strike force of eight thousand troops and conducted a general
attack on this city, which was a hotbed of insurgent activity. A fierce urban battle
ensued, in which eighteen hundred soldiers and civilians died to avenge the death
of the four contractors. On top of this, the United States used several depleted uranium
bombs, the radiation from which would no doubt produce a sharp rise in cancer and
deformities in children. All this was done by creatures who boasted that they possessed
the highest intelligence on the planet.

“Did something happen?” Rubens turned at the sound of the calm voice and saw Dr. Gardner
standing at the door. He’d been called to the operations center in the middle of the
night and was dressed casually, without a tie.

Rubens waited until the science adviser had seated himself across the table. “Are
we maybe underestimating Nous’s intelligence?”

From the question, Gardner knew a critical problem had arisen. His gentle eyes stiffened.
“It’s not beyond the realm of possibility. At this point we can’t say anything definite
about Nous’s intelligence. It’s all speculation.”

“So you wouldn’t deny the possibility that his intelligence already exceeds that of
modern man?”

Gardner nodded. “Or that he shows an extraordinary ability in a particular area. As
with total factorization.”

“How about other areas?”

“We should go back to the Heisman Report,” Gardner said, linking his hands behind
his head and gazing up at the ceiling. “The hypothetical abilities quoted for this
super race in the report—the
ability to perceive a fourth dimension
and
a sixth sense
—these are all nonsense. If Nous tries to think about the fourth dimension and beyond
he’ll still have to depend on mathematical abstractions. And a sixth sense is the
realm of the occult. As a scientist I have nothing to say about that.”

Rubens felt the same way.

“And about this
infinitely developed moral consciousness
, anyone with that would be like God. This isn’t an issue scientists debate.”

Again, Rubens agreed.

“What is correct, though, are the two remaining points. First,
mental qualities that are incomprehensible to us
. It’s natural that humans won’t be able to understand Nous’s thought process and
emotions. If the shape of the brain changes, so, too, does mentality and thoughts.
And then…”

Gardner shifted in his chair and leaned forward over the table. “The last point is
the one we really need to watch out for.”

Rubens was happy to know that he and the science adviser saw things the same way.
“The ability to
immediately
grasp complex wholes
?” he asked.

“Exactly. This short phrase says a lot. Skepticism about reductionism, the ability
to foresee people’s confusion in the face of chaos. The kind of ability scientists
of the second half of the last century hoped the next generation would have. But didn’t
you study this field?”

“At the Santa Fe institute I did research on complex adaptive systems, so I’m familiar
with the subject.”

“If Nous has the ability to
immediately grasp complex wholes
, what, precisely, would he be capable of?”

“He might be able to predict conditions that we see as unpredictable—what we label
chaos. In other words, there would be a further paradigm shift in the field of complex
systems.” As he spoke Rubens became acutely aware of how markedly different this next
generation of human was from present-day man. “If so, he could construct accurate
simulation models for all kinds of things, not just natural phenomena but psychological
and social phenomena. Specifically, there would be a dramatic leap in understanding
of biological phenomena and much more accurate forecasts of economic trends, earthquakes,
long-range weather predictions, and the like.”

“So as we speak Nous might be able to tell us accurately what the weather will be
like ten years from now.”

“That’s one example, yes.”

“If Nous were to acquire those kinds of abilities, would we be able to understand
his thinking? Say he were to write an explanation of weather forecasts; would we be
able to follow it?”

Though caught off guard by this sharp question, Rubens didn’t hesitate. “I think it
would be impossible. Nous goes beyond human intellect. Humans could never follow his
thought process.”

“I suppose so,” Gardner said, smiling faintly. “I suppose you’re correct, Arthur.”

Silence settled over the small conference room. To Rubens, Gardner’s smile was a mix
of helplessness and liberation. Accepting the possibility of human intellectual evolution
meant recognizing the limits of present-day man’s intelligence. And not just intelligence.
The qualities of this super race, as specified in the Heisman Report, were exactly
what present-day humans lacked. Just as we are unable to
immediately grasp complex wholes
, so, too, do we not possess an
infinitely developed moral consciousness
. This isn’t a question of reason but of our behavior as living beings. Only people
who have satisfied their appetites for food and sex talk about world peace. But put
them in a situation where they’re starving, and their hidden, true selves will come
to the fore. As the Chinese philosopher Xunzi proclaimed in the third century
BCE
, we are creatures who “will always fight when we lack something.”

As long as human history continues, the longing for peace will be delayed. There is
always conflict somewhere in the world between peoples. The only way to eradicate
atrocities is to eradicate humans and leave what follows to the next generation of
beings.

A question arose in Rubens’s mind. Was Nous more moral than humans? Or more cruel?
Would he permit an intellectually inferior race to coexist with him, or would he set
out to wipe us out? Even if he allowed us to coexist, we would still be under his
control. Just as people now protect endangered animal species, these superhumans would
keep a few of us around, under their watchful eye.

There was a knock at the door, and Eldridge, director of the operation, came in, along
with the military adviser, Colonel Stokes. Eldridge had on casual clothes, a jacket
over a turtleneck sweater, but Stokes was in full military uniform.

“I already updated Colonel Stokes on the situation,” Eldridge said.

Stokes acknowledged that. “So the operatives have deviated from the plan.”

“Correct.”

“I don’t think that’s anything to get upset about. Special Forces troops are trained
to adjust to the situation on the ground where needed. That’s what they’re doing.”

Rubens debated whether he should announce his hypothesis, which was sure to shake
them up, but decided to wait a little longer. “The CIA satellite imagery analyst is
on his way here. We’ll know more once he arrives.”

Eldridge nodded. “We need to base our actions on objective evidence. We have that
coded communication between the Congo and Japan. At this point we don’t know its purpose.
If it’s done to interfere with Operation Nemesis, then it’s possible our four operatives
have run into something unforeseen.”

“Any progress on the investigation in Japan?” Stokes asked Rubens.

“We’ve narrowed down the area where Kento Koga could be. He seems to be hiding in
a district called Machida, and starting tomorrow we’ll be watching the local train
station. Our assets in Japan, though, are limited, and other investigations are not
going as well as we’d hoped.”

“How many assets do you have?”

“We have ten full-time police officers on the ground. But they’ve got their hands
full checking Koga’s home, the university, and other possible hideouts. And we have
the Tokyo CIA station chief and a local asset he’s recruited.”

“By local asset,” Gardner asked, “do you mean the one code-named Scientist?”

“Correct.”

“What’s the person’s background? And his relationship with Seiji Koga?”

“I don’t know,” Rubens replied, looking at the military adviser. “I’m leaving that
up to the CIA, so I can’t really say.”

“To sum up, we have to be prepared if things go south,” Eldridge said. “If the operation
starts to get out of control, we need to move into the emergency response phase.”

“What is that?” Gardner asked.

“We treat the four operatives, Nigel Pierce, and Kento Koga as terrorists. Authorities
in each country take them into custody, and we place them in extraordinary rendition.”

“Extraordinary rendition? Meaning…”

“Nothing you need to worry about, Professor,” Eldridge said evasively.

“So-called extreme measures?”

The government official responded brusquely to Gardner’s expression of simple curiosity.
“These are administrative measures based on presidential policy guidelines NSD seventy-seven
and PDD sixty-two. The guidelines themselves are classified. Once a memorandum of
notification signed by the president arrives, the CIA takes over. Is that sufficient?”

In other words:
Don’t dig any deeper
. Wisely, Gardner backed down. “Understood,” he said.

For Rubens the biggest miscalculation was Kento Koga’s actions. He hadn’t believed
a mere grad student could evade the law and successfully remain off the grid. If he
had given himself up to the authorities and let them interrogate him, there was room
to go easy on him. But now Eldridge was considering drastic measures. Like other DC
officials, Eldridge was only worried about not blemishing his career, and he aligned
himself totally with the Burns administration’s way of thinking. If Kento Koga were
arrested now, he’d be whisked off to one of the countries that conducted torture for
the United States and would never see his family again. Rubens wanted to save him
if he could, but unfortunately he wasn’t in charge of secret ops in Japan. Eldridge
was.

“We’ve covered Japan, but how about the emergency response phase in the Congo?” Gardner
asked.

“If the operatives start taking unexpected action, we need to wipe them out immediately,
Nigel Pierce included. We’ll use the local military forces to stamp them out.”

Gardner’s eyes went wide. “Will these outlaws cooperate with us?”

“There’s an arms dealer who operates in the area, and we’ll use him to persuade them
they can make a profit on this. Tell them there are five white terrorists in the Ituri
jungle with a huge bounty on their heads. The military power of tens of thousands,
led by their greed for money, will take care of the rest.”

“But what if there really is an evolved virus? Won’t the insurgents risk getting infected?”

“Rubens’s report shoots down the virus theory.”

Rubens could have kicked himself. The phony report he’d concocted to save Yeager and
the others had backfired.

The phone on the table rang, and Rubens heard the voice of a subordinate seeking entrance
to the operations center.

“Come in,” Rubens said, and Diaz, a CIA agent working with Operation Nemesis, entered
the room with a colleague.

“This is Frank Hewitt, who’s been running imagery analysis.”

The lanky young man Diaz introduced was carrying a laptop. After the usual greetings
Hewitt plugged his laptop into the projector and showed an image on the main briefing
screen.