Legacy of a Mad Scientist (23 page)

“Good. Can we get on with it then?”

“You really think tossing Senator Miller’s office
will be enough to shake them up?”

“Stanwood was his right hand for nine years, He would
have never gotten the Intel desk otherwise. Miller is behind
everything Stanwood does, that much I am sure of.”

“I’m glad Snow is in Jerusalem. She’d be examining
his tonsils with her compensator if she thought he was behind all
this.”

Invisible, Ross and Croswell approached the window of
Senator Miller’s unoccupied west coast office.

“Let me clone his system, before you let everyone
know we’re here.”

“Hurry up,” Croswell said, attaching a small
explosive to the window.

“At least let me get what we came her for, before you
go tearing up the place.” Ross operated his Micronix Amplifier,
scanning the Senator’s network for open access ports.

“Sheesh, Fine. Waiting,” Croswell muttered.

“Wait quietly.” Ross smiled.

“I believe Secretary of Defense outranks Major,”
Croswell said.

“You’re a civilian now. You don’t have a rank.
Besides, I’m secret service. We answer to the President.”

“La-ti-da. I could still whip you in a fist
fight.”

“Yeah, for about thirty seconds, old timer.”

“You’re not too spry yourself. About as fast as a
broken-down hound dog with hip dysplasia.”

“I’m fast. I’m so fast I can hack a senator’s desk
terminal while putting up with your lame put-downs.”

“Are you almost finished? I have a charge here that
really wants to pop,” Croswell said.

“I’m done,” Ross said. “Indulge yourself.”

Smiling, Croswell triggered the plastic explosive,
blowing out the senator’s window. Inside, he sprayed thousands of
tiny transmitters in wide band across the ceiling, and then he set
about to trashing the room.

Ross waited, hovering invisibly in the sky, as
Secretary of Defense James Croswell literally tossed the office,
throwing everything around, half of which made it’s way out the
window and streamed away from the building with the afternoon
breeze.

The phase-cam warped the light particles around
Croswell’s armor, rendering him completely invisible. The security
guards opened the office doors and did nothing more than watch as
Senator Miller’s shelves and desk drawers emptied themselves into
the afternoon sky.

Thursday, July 9, 2308

When it was Ashley's turn to spar, there was already
a buzz in the air. Her rebellious performance the day before was on
everyone's mind. She couldn't be faulted for nonparticipation, but
her style threatened to unbalance the ranking structure. In
Ashley's desire not to break her own hands on someone else's face,
she mastered lesson number two without even encountering lesson
number one.

Ashley's match was called. They all stared. She was
the alien. She wasn't playing by their rules.

Ash had no intention of allowing anyone to break her
nose, spit her lip, or blacken one of her eyes. And since there was
no requirement to hit anyone else, she didn't feel she was doing
anything wrong.

This time she was up against an experienced boy,
Jason. He stretched, bounced and shadowboxed in his corner. For one
so young, his musculature was already sharply defined. Ashley knew
that if he hit her, he would make her bleed. He couldn't be allowed
to hit her.

Sihing Cleary was refereeing the match, and when he
blew the whistle, half the heads in the hall turned to watch.

Jason unloaded his prepared arsenal of combinations,
jab, jab, hook, low kick, jab, high kick, hook, elbow, knee.

Ashley dodged the first few strikes and realized
Jason was a robot. He was programmed into formulas of strikes and
kicks. Her father would have called him an automaton. It was also
how Becca danced, mechanically. Jason was more dangerous than Becca
but just as predictable.

Ash stepped back far enough to exaggerate his flawed
operation, he continued to chop and punch and kick at the empty
air, two jabs, a hook, a roundhouse kick, a spinning kick and a
front kick. Everyone could see how ridiculous it was, but he didn't
stop. Ashley stood across the ring, waiting as he punched toward
her.

Frustrated and embarrassed, Jason charged. Ash spun
past him, through him. He couldn't touch her. When he moved, she
moved first. She was a matador and his bull was getting tired.

Ashley walked to the edge of the circle and lowered
her gloves.

Jason recognized the arrogant gesture for the taunt
it was and growled behind his mouthpiece.

He charged again, swinging wildly.

Ashley danced along the edge of the circle, and he
kept coming, infuriated. She let him charge past her, out of
bounds.

Cleary blew the whistle and gestured for them to come
back to the ring. Jason bounced with energy, stomping back to the
center.

Ashley walked slowly, taking forever to get into
position, infuriating Jason. As Cleary prepared to blow the
whistle, Ashley raised her hand and stepped away from the center,
turning her back to them.

She adjusted her shirt, rolled her shoulders and
stretched her neck.

The other matches had ended; the whole room was
watching her. She took her time, not gloating or taunting, but
making Jason furious just the same.

Ash turned back to Cleary and Jason, who growled.

Ashley laughed.

He cocked a fist to swing at her, but caught himself
and waited for Cleary to blow the whistle.

Cleary was content to let Ashley dig her own grave,
and he waited for her to get settled.

Ash smiled and nodded.

Cleary turned to Jason, who nodded. He blew the
whistle and Jason leapt at Ashley, throwing his whole body into the
air.

There was nowhere for Ashley to go, it was too late;
she was caught. She collapsed under her attacker's assault.

Jason, however, was not prepared to catch his prey so
easily, and discovered himself falling with the girl under him. He
wasn't going to hurt her as much as both of them and not
deliberately or honorably, but stupidly.

Ashley held Jason's upper arms as her butt hit the
mat. Her feet came up from nowhere, and she caught his weight at
his midsection. Ash transferred Jason's momentum as softly as if he
were a baby and tossed him across the room.

Ash watched him sail, ass over teakettle, through the
hall. With his head down and his feet toward the ceiling, he flew
through the air. People slid out of his way. He overshot the mat
and crashed in a tangled heap on the hard gymnasium floor.

Ashley got up before Jason even came to a complete
stop. Yet relatively unhurt, suddenly he was back on his feet and
sprinting toward her.

No whistle had blown to stop him, as Cleary,
fascinated by the action, had failed to blow it.

Ash stepped forward as Jason reached her.

She pinned his foot to the mat and turned to the
side.

Jason whip-lashed into the ground. The impact was so
crisp and sharp that the entire room was rendered silent in its
wake.

Cleary found and blew the whistle.

He gestured for Lopez and Shou to help and the three
of them knelt beside Jason. Ashley stepped away from the action.
Everyone was focused on the unconscious student.

Ash drifted further away.

Cleary saw her and led her back to the ring. He
gestured for her to kneel, facing away from where Lopez and Shou
worked on reviving the unconscious Jason.

It took almost ten minutes for Jason to open his
eyes, and another ten to get him walking and talking again.

Finally, Shou decided he was well enough to return to
the ring, where the match was called in Ashley's favor.

Ashley's legs were sore and blood-deprived from
kneeling. She thought it ironic, that both she and Jason limped
from the hall, although separately.

No one congratulated her. No one talked to her.

Ashley told herself that it didn't matter.
What
did she expect?

Her distaste for violent culture, combined with her
superior skills, had shown up instructors and students alike.

Of course, they were quiet. It felt just as awkward
for her.

Thursday, July 9, 2308

Dr. Te’s shop was on one of the exclusive executive
plates, hovering over the old city and casting shadows like lily
pads over a pond. Lao had one of the most expensive corners. The
pads rotated in a twenty-four hour loop; Lao’s shop witnessed the
sunrise every morning, and sunset in the west at evening. The
expensive section also guaranteed virtually zero walk in customers,
and since Lao only saw clients on an appointment basis, he could
keep all his retractable walls open during the day.

The robots loved the stimulation. The empty courtyard
and garden provided everything he needed for them in the way of
testing grounds. Today, however, the retractable panels were
closed.

In keeping with the sweeping curves of the district,
Lao had incorporated circles into every aspect of his shop’s
design. Looking around, Ana realized she was hard pressed to find a
right angle anywhere. Even the couches touched down with rounded
legs.

Ana knelt before the robotic panther and peered into
it’s lenses. “So this is what they want?” Ana asked, getting right
down to business.

“You mean these?” Te replied, gesturing to the
collection of robots, spread across the shelves of the shop.

“They didn’t send me all this way to come back
empty-handed.”

“These are just toys. The controller, now that’s
something special.”

Ana raised an eyebrow.

Te held up a common pair of eyeglasses.

“You did it? After all this time, you finally did
it?” Ana asked.

“Without your husband’s work, it never would have
been possible.”

Ana checked out the activity of the bugs on the
shelves.

“They are all scanning, all independent, all
streaming back to the same source. Many cups may be poured from a
single pitcher,” Te said.

“You’re kidding?” Ana smiled.

Te smiled. “I’m not. The foundation was the mapping
work we did installing you guys into the centaurs. I fine-tuned it
a bit, but the human mind is the best parallel processor ever
invented. You just have to assign the proper inputs. Running an
engine or piloting a terillium drive isn’t so different from
managing a heart and organs. Circulating electrical data is no
different than blood or coolant.”

“So, these are all you need?” Ana asked, gesturing to
the glasses.

“Do you have your amplifier?” Te asked.

“I can’t lose it. I’ve got it in one of these
pockets, somewhere.”

“Well, once you’ve initialized, it’s easy. I created
a partitioned network called Kiowa Field.”

“So, can you run through it for me, just once?”

“You get how the amplifier works?”

“I get that
You
get how the amplifier works.
But I don’t get it at all. All I know is
That
it works.”

“Don’t bullshit me, little girl. You know lots more
than you pretend to know.” Te smiled. “The amplifier has one design
flaw. Physically, it invites investigation. It’s not easily
explained.”

“The commands are all neural, so all you have to do
is close them.” Dr. Te folded the spectacles closed. “And you’re
out.” The machines powered down. “The neural link prevents you
shutting them down accidentally. To sync with it, all you have to
do is put on the glasses.”

He handed them to her. “Go on, give ‘em a shot.”

Ana took the glasses, opened them and gingerly set
them on her face. The lenses were clear, and she waited, but
nothing happened.

“Oh, the password is Mississippi,” Te explained.
“Just think it.”

“Mississippi,” Ana said aloud.

The words
Kiowa Field
appeared before her. She
took a step backward. The expansion suite was overwhelming. Her
visual cortex had grown far beyond the data fed to her brain from
her eyes. She could see what they saw; like a hall of mirrors,
seeing herself from so many angles. She focused on the menu as she
would a Micronix menu, opened it…

“The dog and the lion?” she asked.

“Unfinished, of course. The big ones are tougher.” Te
gestured to the couch. “Go on, put your feet up.”

Ana sat back on the couch, her feet remained on the
floor.

“Just pick one,” Te suggested.

Ana focused on the word
Mt. Lion.
The letters
lit up, their minds had merged and Ana took control of the cat.

“When your projected consciousness meets the model’s
reception matrix, an image of your conscious-self is written into
the robot, as an operator,” Te explained.