The Lightcap (2 page)

Hailed for revolutionizing the way humanity interacted with technology, domes also changed how they interacted with each other.  Gone were the days of phone calls and the video calls that followed them.  Thanks to the dome, these were replaced with impersonal messages read aloud by a soft computer voice, affable and detached.  On occasion people would send a voice message, but as more people bought domes these became less prevalent, supplanted by the more convenient Thought Transmission Messaging, or TTM.  Adam referred to it as telepathy through technology, since it reminded him of the twentieth century author who said, “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.”  If this was the Age of Magic, Adam Redmon was a modern-day Merlin, but instead of a wand the soft plastic of the dome granted him powers, incantations replaced by reliable computer code.

Adam could see the imposing frame of the Adaptech headquarters.  This was another change to which he had not yet become accustomed.  Eighteen years ago, right as dome tech was gaining wider reach on the market, Adam dropped out of Princeton against the better judgment of his peers, family, and advisers.  He felt suffocated by the mediocrity surrounding him and needed to make an immediate change.  He was only sixteen at the time, but had made a name for himself by developing crAIck, automated penetration testing software that used adaptive Artificial Intelligence to simulate hacking attempts from multiple concurrent vectors.  CrAIck was used at that time by nearly seventy percent of companies with online presences, and helped end years of escalating lawless chaos, theft, and hacks of virtual properties.  When he dropped out, Adam was courted by several companies, including three in the Top Ten, the ten largest firms in Metra Region.  Adaptech neglected to recruit him for a full time position, instead offering to bring him on as a consultant. 

Despite these and other lucrative offers, Adam chose to work with his friend, Jonathan Bays, who had helped code the crAIck software and was a fellow dropout.  Together they created a small startup, Meshworks, and eventually released crAIck 2.0.  After five years in business the company was acquired by Adaptech, a buyout enabling it to obtain the crAIck source code and a modest patent portfolio.  This time the compensation package offered by Adaptech was more substantial, and included a position with benefits in their Security Software division.  After more than a dozen years in that department, Adam had applied for and earned a promotion to his first managerial role.

That was how he found himself standing before the ten foot tall door of gleaming metal and glass, about to begin his first day as manager of the Programming Division for the Mind Drive v6 project.  Since they had come in after Adaptech acquired their company, Adam and Jon were viewed with skepticism, even scorn.  They hadn’t worked their way up the ladder at Adaptech, but were brought in at a higher pay grade than many who had spent decades toiling in the cube farms, which caused friction and animosity.  Jon did not deal well with the stress, eventually resigning and moving to the other side of the continent.  Adam felt a pang of sadness at the thought of his old friend.

As Adam reached for the vertical bar of metal that served as a handle to the entrance of the Adaptech high-rise, he was jolted from his memories by a slap on the shoulder and an unexpected shout: “Adam! You lucky bastard! Ready for your first day as the big boss?”

He looked over his shoulder and saw the ruddy face of Nate Taylor, who’d been his manager until just a few days before.  Adam smiled.  “Learned from the best, Nate.  Of course, I’m late on my first day.  Murphy’s Law and all that.”

“Hell, you’re a manager now,” Nate chuckled.  “You don’t need to worry about being on time, that’s for the lemmings.”  He pulled open the door and held it for Adam, who subtly nodded his head as a way of thanks.

“Maybe so,” Adam smirked, “but I don’t want those peons to get any ideas.”  Nate laughed.  Despite their joking, Adam knew Nate was a good boss, one who was fair and cared about his employees.  Nate wasn’t the smartest person, but he was one of the kinder people in management, at Adaptech or anywhere else.  Adam hoped his new employees would say the same about his demeanor once they got to know him.  After a few minutes of small talk, Adam and Nate shook hands and parted ways.  Adam wasn’t a fan of idle chit-chat, but he genuinely liked Nate, even if their conversation topics never strayed beyond subjects devoid of meaning, such as sports and weather.

Adam ended up being fifteen minutes late, not bad considering the unexpected walk and the five minutes spent talking with Nate.  The elevator shot to the top of the building, its doors parted and opened to a long, nondescript hallway.  Looking up and down the length of it, one would never guess this was the top floor of the headquarters of one of the most successful companies in history.  Adaptech was an apt name, prescient even, since it had grown in just thirty years from a small company of twenty-some-odd people to a global powerhouse with over a half million employees worldwide.  There had been many challenges as Adaptech grew, including a near closure in its early history, but it had emerged as the clear leader in the field of human interfaces for electronic devices, companies that stood in its way acquired or forced out of the marketplace through backroom deals and the overwhelming strength of Adaptech’s products and patent portfolio.

As in most company headquarters, there were doors everywhere.  With a thought, Adam brought up the instructions for that day’s orientation.  “Room 4C,” the androgynous computerized voice cooed in his ear.

The door was plain, with a small label at eye level that read “4C”.  The only indication of its purpose being the placard underneath that spelled “CONFERENCE” in bold white letters, crying out for attention, demanding the reader attend the important meeting implicitly being held just on the other side.  The handle was cold in Adam’s hand as he pushed down and forward and walked into a bright light, a near death experience merged with a corporate meeting.  He was greeted by expectant faces, and one that was clearly displeased.

“Welcome to work, Mister Redmon,” spoke the lips attached to the displeased face, which belonged to Roman LaMont, Chief Executive Officer of Adaptech.  Adam had not expected him.

“Thanks, Mister LaMont,” Adam said through a smile.  “Sorry about being late, the subway was shut down.  I’ll be sure to allow enough time to account for unforeseen difficulties in the future.”  He tried to force back his rising embarrassment, though he knew his cheeks reddened even as he stretched out his hand in greeting.

LaMont shook his hand, then abruptly whirled to face the group and said, “Redmon here is your boss.  That’s the first thing you need to understand.  I’m his boss.  The only time you don’t listen to something Redmon says is when I tell you differently.  Now, let me tell you about what you’ll be doing on this new project.”

CEO Roman LaMont was something of an enigma.  Of medium height and stocky build, he looked like someone who’d hold his own in a quarrel, but also as if he’d never be the one to throw the first punch.  By all accounts, he was a shrewd decision-maker who had almost single-handedly taken Adaptech from a shop run out of four self-storage units to one occupying the most high-tech skyscraper ever built during his twenty year tenure at the top.  He was not known for his kindness or approachability, and Adam had heard several stories told in hushed whispers about people who had exited the building in tears, sometimes under security escort, never to return again.  Adam believed it, given what he had seen of the man.  Despite LaMont’s success as a businessman, he still came across to Adam as a smarmy salesman, of the door-to-door or used car variety.

Adam scanned the room.  His eyes went past and then quickly back to a dark-haired beauty he had not seen before.  Her hair was almost the same color as her dome, so similar Adam hadn’t noticed it at first glance, until he saw the round outline of the bubble at the top of her forehead.  There were only two women on his team and she was not one of them, this much he knew.  He’d helped select all but two of the people that made up his group, ten culled from the best programmers Adaptech had to offer, six more poached from academia and private sector positions.  He wasn’t just the leader of this team; he had hand selected them.  All eighteen were there, plus LaMont, and this unknown woman.

Adam used his dome to surreptitiously snap her picture and started a facial recognition search.  Knowing it would take awhile to finish, he focused his attention back to LaMont, who still droned on.

“We’re at the edge of total market dominance.  Now is the time to leverage new technologies and acquisitions to ensure version six of the Mind Drive is better than ever, and solidify our position as the sole trusted provider of brain interface devices.  This revision will be the most advanced yet, and we don’t want our Chinese friends to copy it.  To that end, we’ve brought in Miss Sera Velim, former head of Brain Sync, as Vice-President of New Products and Development.”  As he mentioned her name, the previously unknown woman briefly looked up from her notetab, as if to give the most subtle of greetings, a slightly annoyed look on her face, then resumed taking dictation, or whatever she’d been doing.

End facial recognition search,
Adam thought.  A soft tone rang to confirm his command. 
Sera Velim.  What in the hell is she doing here?
he wondered.  A minor tritone indicated the Mind Drive AI didn’t understand his query.  It had been years since he’d allowed a stray thought to trigger his dome.

The rest of the day passed quickly, stack upon stack of non-disclosure and non-compete agreements signed and handed back until his wrist hurt.  Roman LaMont sat in silent observation for almost an hour after his pep talk, though it pained Adam to even think of it as such.  Adam made a half-hearted attempt at repairing morale, but the damage had already been done and his efforts were greeted with blank expressions and glassy eyes from those seated around the table.  Adam had been so overwhelmed with signing paperwork he hadn’t been able to talk to Doctor Velim.  She hadn’t even spoken to LaMont before she walked out in pace a step behind him, notetab held against her chest.

Adam had some time that evening, once he got home, to look up Sera Velim.  She had been the head of Brain Sync, being thrust into the role after the sudden disappearance of Doctor Pavel Troyka over ten years before.  If Adaptech was secretive, then Brain Sync was a shadow.  No one knew exactly what Brain Sync did, but it had established a name for itself as the pioneer of the Mind Drive, even though it shocked the world and allowed another company to market and sell the finished product.

Brain Sync employees worked under several layers of NDAs and legal agreements.  As far as anyone could tell, many employees weren’t allowed to even acknowledge they worked for Brain Sync, and were given cover stories that included employment through unrelated front organizations.  Despite the fact it had never put a device on shelves, Brain Sync employed hundreds, possibly thousands, of people and had lucrative contracts throughout the government and private industry.  To what end, no one knew.

Sera Velim was almost as much of an enigma as her company.  For instance, Adam knew of her but had never seen her picture.  He was curious if there were even any out there, or if she’d somehow managed to avert leaving a mesh presence, a real challenge in that day and age.  Adam’s first picture on the mesh was from his early teens, taken by a cam recording people walking down a public street.  The way things were then, leaving the house was a reliable way to end up as a series of zeros and ones on the mesh, unless you took precautions.  There were counter-surveillance necklaces, called ramble-jamblers, consisting of a ring of high-output LEDs that cycled through the infrared spectrum, washing out any characteristics that could be used to identify or track the wearer.  They were technically illegal, but were small and hard to detect so many used them.

Velim had been a doctoral student of Troyka.  Some sources claimed she started her doctorate work at fifteen, but Adam had seen other evidence that placed her at an age beyond his own.  Data from the mesh could be unreliable, even on a good day.  When Doctor Troyka disappeared, the authorities suspected foul play or corporate or international espionage, given that Brain Sync had numerous lucrative government contracts.  Foul play was officially ruled out.  No evidence could be found to suggest Troyka had been killed, but he was a high profile person, and it was difficult for anyone to vanish, especially someone of his stature as an innovator and inventor.

Regardless of Troyka’s fate, Doctor Velim had been his heir apparent for years, and, by unanimous vote by the Brain Sync Board of Directors, took what was widely considered to be her rightful place at the helm of the company.  As a privately held organization there wasn’t much public data available on its earnings, but by every indication Brain Sync’s profitability had grown considerably under Velim’s leadership.  Though she was rumored to be caring in her personal life, she’d earned a reputation for ruthlessness in business dealings.  Adam wasn’t quite sure what to believe.  As with most hearsay there was sure to be some level of validity, but any attempt to suss out the ratio of truth to falsehood was nothing but conjecture.