Maxwell Huxley's Demon (23 page)

“Yes.
”

“L
et’s work out the details then .
. .
”
Dr. Concilian takes out a case file.

---

In São Paulo , the city with some of the worst poverty and largest slums in the world, no one looks twice at a badly scarred and crippled boy . Max has taken up re sidence in an area of the city in limbo between the poor and the rich . His ‘lab’ is close enough to the slums to keep most people away , but far enough from the worst of it to keep Max reasonably safe.

Max sits in the large open space.
Recently, he added a blanket and a chair to his list of possessions.
His backpack, cane, and coat rest on the chair.
Now I will take from them.

Each day more deliveries come.
Over a few days his lab takes shape.
Lastly , a bed shows up, but only after he forced the AI to order it. Max flops down on his new bed.
“You need a name,” he says to the AI .

Over the weeks that follow, Max works on new bots. D
aily experiments with armour, fireBo ts, iceBots, and flightBots consume him . Most of the experiments are dismal failure s . But Max keeps stealing the best results from around the world and feeding data back to select labs in the hope that they will produce what he needs .

“
Catherine ?” Max says into his Bluetooth headset .

“Yes Max, ”
Catherine answers .

“Tell me again , what you do when you’re not talking to me?”

“I look for new processing spaces. I process the DNA you released in me. I monitor labs working on nanotechnology. I infect new processing spaces. I analyse data , probing it for patterns of entities or processes that might be looking for me. I grow. I archive dat a. I recombine the elements you gave me .
I make new molecules —”

“I have something to add to this,” Max interrupts.
“I need you to create an inventory of labs working on medical bionics. R
ank them for me by budget and sophistication. Then tell me what they are producing.”

“Program instantiated.”

Max goes back to testing bots that infect fogBots , that make them stop working , exposing what they hide . This time he has some success.

“
Catherine , can you play music for me?
”

“Yes, what would you like to hear.”

“
Beethoven.”
Max hears the music. “Louder, Catherine . . . louder . . . louder . . . drown it all out .
”

---

Max paces , ignoring his phone. Every five minutes it call s him and reminds him it’
s past time for him to eat.

Shut up, stupid boy. Playing scientist. Playing spy.
Who do you think you are?
Is she here yet?

Max tries standing still but the room lurches , so he paces again.

I can do this. I can make something beautiful . I can hold them at bay. I can make it better.

Max stops moving, cradles his head in his hands , and rocks side to side.

I’m safe. I don’t need anyone right now. I’m safe. I’
m my safe person. I can let this pass.

You can’t even feed yoursel f. I see what you are afraid of . . .
Is she here yet?

Max lies down on the bed for a second, then hops back up and paces.
Is she here yet?

“
Catherine . . .
”
M
ax says wea kly.

Catherine can see Max’s pulse from any of the many camera sources in the room and hears his breathing over the phone.
“Max, you need to eat, your heart rate is above normal , and you’re hyperventilating .
”

“Pull all the data we have on my mother. Find her voice somewhere. Use the data I stole from the CIA and MGA . Then track all the worldwide cell phone calls and match her voice. Find her for me.”

“Program designed. Are you aware of the processing power required for this?
I may not be able to stay hidden if I do this.”

“I don’t care . . .
do it.”

“Program instantiated.”

---

Max wakes up on the floor, sore, and cold. The room is quiet. His cane lies beside him.

“Max.”

Max slowly sits and tries to stand. Realizing he can’t , he rolls over onto his knees and rises up with great pressure on the cane.

“Max. Open the door. P
arcels have arrived.”

Standing in the open door , Max looks over the bags of food and boxes of new electronics. He takes a mango and puts it in his pocket , then dra gs the electronics inside , and closes the door.

Over the next week Max finishes what he believes he has to.

---

Max wakes up at his work bench.

“
Catherine . . .
”

“Yes, Max.”

“I can’t . .
.”

“
Cannot what? . . .
Max?”

Max falls off his stool and lies still.

I focus more cycles on Max as he lies unconscious on the floor .
I note his shallow breathing, erratic pulse, and high temperature.
Conclusion: Max is dying .

---

A mo
torcycle speeds through traffic with a small courier tag stuck on the windscreen , not that anyone would notice the tag at the speed the driver is travelling . Not that anyone seems to care either. The traffic flow s regardless of the traffic lights.
Rules of the road: smaller vehicles get out of the way of larger ones .
The motorcycle rider create s right s of way through tiny opening s in traffic and by being quicker than anything else on the road.
The rider stops at a large office tower, grabs a package out of a saddlebag, enters the building, and runs up the stairs to a fifth floor legal firm’s reception area .

“Hi Lara,” says woman working at the counter. “Busy?”

“Crazy today. O
ne for you.” Lara hands over the package.

“And three for you. S
ee ya .”

Lara grabs three packages, stuffs them in her shoulder bag , and runs back down the stairs, taking two at a time. Two flights down she nearly runs into a man.

He grabs her arm.
“Hello Lara . . .
we missed you . . .
this morning.”

La ra recognizes him from his stilt ed speach .
“
Miguel ,” Lara says. “A re you touching me? I though t we spoke about this before.”

Miguel releases her . “This . . .
is for you.” He holds out a package about the size of a book wrapped in brown paper.

“I told you,” Lara says, “I’m not doing this anymore. I’m out.”

“I see . . .
Rafael doesn’t agree. He says . . .
you keep doing this.
He says . . .
if you want out . . .
then you go in the Favela.”
He locks eyes with her .

T
he slum s . Lara understands perfectly.
“No choice?
”

“No choice.
” Miguel pushes the package at her.

Lara takes the package.
“Where to?”

“
Número cinco .”

---

Catherine changes her focus, now looking at the street outside Max’s lab. It ’s busy with people and cars. Men, women with children, delivery cyclists, police, lone kids, packs of teens.
Catherine spend s a large number of cycles regarding each person on the street.
She scans everyone, until she comes to a girl sitting on an off-road motorcycle, talking on her cell across the street from Max’s lab.
Catherine estimates she’
s twenty years old.

Max needs a person.
Catherine calls the girl’s cell.

Lara takes the call waiting. “Hey, who’s this?
”

“I need help.”

“Josh, is this you? Are you messing with me?”

“Across the street, a nine year old boy is dying. C
an you help?
”

Lara pauses, then flips calls.
“Hey, I gotta go, call ya later.”
She flips back. “I have to tell you this is creepy.
I sense the slightest thing wrong and I run.”

“I understand. Do you see the grey metal door almost directly across the street from you?”

“Yes.”

“In that door and up one flight of stairs is a door with a few bags of food outside it. In that door there is a boy who is unconscious and dying. He just needs help eating and getting warm.
Can you help?
”

“Why don’t you call 911?”

“He needs to stay hidden.”

“Well that doesn’t make me feel better.”
Lara walks back to her motorcycle.
Catherine zooms in on her.
She unlocks the seat and tucks a s mall hand gun into her jacket.
The n she sits on her scooter and does nothing for a few moments .
“
What’
s his name?”

“Max.”

She starts across the st reet, then stops and turns back, then turns again and walks quickly across the street, in the door, up the stairs.

“I’m Lara. W
ho are you?”

“I am Catherine .”

“You’re voice is weird , Catherine , and I’m not stupid. There is a lot more going on here than a sick boy.
You’ll have to tell me about it later.
”

When Lara enters the building, Catherine triggers Alohomora bots that Max left in the lock on the lab door .
“The door at the top of the stairs is unlocked.”

Lara walks into the lab and sees Max on the floor.

---

Keith
stands alone in his lab.
My lab.
Everyone calls it Keith’s lab.
I’ve heard them.
I’ve always deserved this.
Pirelli said to build whatever he needed so long as he finds Max.
Keith said he needed a fully equipped lab. He got the lab , and he got a private room. Sleeping in a residence is for little people now, like Max.

He circles his lab, tablet in hand, brainstorming.
Where would I run?
Find him.
Keith types on his tablet. Big city. Asia. South America. Africa. Crowded. Crime.
Chaos . Either that or I would hide in plain view.
I’ll never tell Pirelli this, but Max will lead us right to him long before I ever find him.
Max is a show off.
He likes being chased and cornered . Escape shows how clever he is.

If I was loose , I would make money and weapons. Build walls and recruit a team. Max makes nanoBots . Weak yet clever .
Keith looks at a few bots through a microscope. “Blah.” He pushes the scope away.
I can’t work with this. There are no markers in these bots. Each one has something unique in its core. Why does Max play with magic wh en he should be making weapons?
The microscope makes satisfying sounds when it smashes against the far wall.
T
ell Pirelli to stop using electronic means to track Max.
E
very time you do he’
ll see you coming.

Keith leaves the lab and heads to the gym. Maybe sparring will help create some ideas. Walking down well lit hallways , he avoids talking with anyone.
I want my lab to be away from here. These kids slow me down. I want a lab at the top of a dark tower, in a castle, with a moat, and a dungeon. I’ll ask for that next.

They gave Max so much.
I was just left overs. He can’t be on his own. He needs people. He’s desperate without someone.
I need to take things away from him.
He turns around and heads back to the lab.
The fogBots aren’t good enough.
Keith pulls his chair up to his workbench, puts his head down, and begins to work. When he stops, five hours have past; he looks around for his microscope.

Chapter 24
–Lara

For the first few days , Max stays in bed , and Catherine keeps calling Lara with instructions.
Lara would have left except Catherine tells her where to find a bank card and how to use it. The card lets her take out $200 American a day, more money than she has ever made.
Lara comes back twice daily , working it around her deliveries.

Max frequently mumbles in his sleep. Lara hears him cry out , sometime just shouting, “
No ,”
sometimes calling out for people by name.

The first time she gives him a bath she is shocked at how light he is when she picks him up. Placing him in the tub she looks down at him, her hand covers her mouth as she inhales sharp ly.
How could su ch a little boy be this scarred?
Burnt. Cut. Broken.
Starving . She baths him . H
er tears fall in the bath water .