Collective Intelligence

association, inhibiting corporate collaboration.

  There was some truth to their assertion: Half of the University's VC contacts had shied away during the court case and were only now beginning to sniff again at its incubating projects. And, after a year of mending fences and finding them perpetually in ruin, Jankowiak had committed to a fresh start.

  Ryan rued the day his adviser would leave academia. But he also wanted to further his knowledge for more than an education. In that regard, it made his decision to seek the private sector more palatable.

  With his reservations in check, Ryan offered to escort Pawluk to his adviser's office. A moment later he knocked at Jankowiak's door.

  “Come in.” Came Jankowiak's voice.

  Pawluk waited for Ryan to open the door. Jankowiak did not seem surprised by his visitor.

  “Dr. Pawluk,” Jankowiak smiled. “What brings you into my neck of the woods?”

  “Honestly, I was just passing through,” Pawluk replied. “Then last night my department head asked me to take a detour.”

  “We're not that far out of the way.”

  “No, not at all.” Pawluk laughed.

  Ryan began to leave.

  “I was just talking to your protege,” Pawluk acknowledged him. “Perhaps he can be included in the discussion?”

  “Certainly,” Jankowiak agreed. “Ryan, please come back in an hour.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Ryan answered. Why did I say, 'Sir?' He wondered as he departed.

  The hallway was vacant; the coed was gone. Now Ryan had an uninteresting hour to kill.

  Proposal

  After the door closed Pawluk cleared his throat. “My research department has a proposal that may be of interest.”

  “I thought so. Is it for me or for my ready-to-graduate student?”

  “Well, the opportunity is of benefit to both of you—through Ryan's efforts, of course.”

  Jankowiak frowned. “Are you willing to sign an NDA?” He asked.

  Pawluk showed a moment of surprise but then relaxed. The reason for the request was transparent. “Of course,” he agreed. “I suppose I'll need to.” Although Pawluk was disappointed, an half hour later he restarted.

  “We want to offer Ryan a post-doc but,” Pawluk smiled wistfully, “based on this...” He referred to the NDA, ”I'm sure he's already made his choice. Perhaps it would be enough for him intern for six months and help us get a program started?”

  “You're not planning to take on the drug companies, are you?” Jankowiak teased.

  “No, we develop defense related applications.”

  Jankowiak ignored the interesting question to instead focus on the practical. “Who will be your game-players?”

  “Every year we have thousands of recruits,” Pawluk answered. “Most of them are just kids, many are soft and naive. The transition from being a video-game junkie living at home to a military professional and its rigid discipline is challenging.”

  “You're offering them a diversion?” Jankowiak surmised.

  “Yes, but it's not without value. During initial training many have remarkable ideas. Being green they easily think outside the box but, conversely, most are reluctant to express their ideas. It's not hard to understand why. They're surrounded by seasoned and hardened professionals. They're challenged daily and they fail often. They don't want to invite ridicule, especially the self-earned variety. They quickly learn to keep their mouths shut.”

  “Sounds cultural,” Jankowiak remarked.

  “Absolutely,” Pawluk agreed. “We don't want to change the culture but we do want to break through that barrier. We think they'd be inclined to express their ideas in a game.”

  “What sort of ideas? Where would Ryan contribute?” Jankowiak was no longer critical.

  “Several. Obviously tactical...”

  “We haven't attempted tactical gaming,” Jankowiak cut him off. “Our focus is entirely molecular-based.”

  Pawluk's face went blank.

  Jankowiak grocked the gist. “Are you concerned with the proliferation of biological agents?”

  “The parameters of the program aren't fully defined.”

  “I'm not sure where I can help you without knowing more.” Jankowiak remained forthright. “Proliferation or synthesis?”

  “You're not cleared for that answer,” Pawluk stated flatly.

  “I'm not cleared for anything,” Jankowiak responded factually.

  “No, I suppose not,” Pawluk exhaled. “What I can discuss is that we want to develop bio-sensors, rapid detection of carbon-based applications.”

  “I thought that lay in the realm of materials science,” Jankowiak debated.

  “So did solar and LEDs at one time.” Pawluk countered. “Things change.”

  “I see.” Jankowiak leaned back to ponder.

  “If Ryan is willing,” Pawluk pressed, “to develop the structure of your game method, it'll get us started. We'd take it from there. And there will be royalties paid on all patents.”

  “Will there be any?” Jankowiak challenged. “I imagine most of what he'd work on would be classified.”

  “Perhaps,” Pawluk conceded, “but that has collateral with the NSF.”

  “Really?” Jankowiak scoffed as gently as he could manage. “Then why offer to pay royalties at all?”

  “Dividends, then,” Pawluk relented, “for us, Ryan and you—a partnership. As you know, your research has been funded by the government and all patents are inherently owned by the government. We've been reviewing your approach and we think it will meet our needs.”

  “Why don't you just launch a program independently?” Jankowiak was not impressed by the strong-arming.

  “Non-compete. Although the government can develop at will, it cannot be in competition with the private sector. Nor can it be in it to undermine your profit.”

  “At present, neither am I,” Jankowiak smiled, “but that may soon change.”

  “I suspected so, Dr. Jankowiak.” Pawluk tapped the NDA again, “but I would like to talk to Ryan—with your permission, of course.”

  “You don't need my permission.”

  “No, but I may need your... persuasion.”

  “I think you may need more than that. To start up a program will take more than one person, no matter how gifted he is.”

  Pawluk's eyes narrowed. Was Jankowiak wheeling and dealing?

  Jankowiak continued. “A contract in hand would go a long way to help acquire serious VC interest.”

  “You're asking a price...?”

  “No, I”m injecting a dose of reality into your request. It's easy to underestimate just how much work goes into developing this platform. As a single consultant, it will take Ryan six months just to design a concept on paper and another year to compile the first working module—no matter how many programmers you give him. I'd like him back sooner.”

  “I see,” Pawluk said. “I'll take this back to my program manager.” Yet Pawluk was smiling. “I see no reason he won't accommodate your request.”

  Year 15

  Tragedy

  “A single car rollover today claimed the life of an embattled Nobel Laureate.” In a somber tone an anchorwoman read the unfortunate news from her teleprompter.

  “Tyson Jankowiak, whose research in computerized gaming led to a breakthrough against the AIDS virus, was the driver and lone occupant of the vehicle...”

  She went on to describe the manner of his death. It was a sensational necessity to keep the viewers engaged before they tuned out the mundane: Jankowiak had been speeding in his late model Tesla and had lost control while navigating the bend of a rain-slicked curve. Another reckless tragedy.

  Then she read through the highlights of Jankowiak's life, breezing over his accomplishments until she could regurgitate an unflattering reference to his legal battle with GenCorp.

  Gossip was delicious; a reputation once possessed by slander would not ever be fully exorcised.

  Then there was a statement from the University presid
ent, footage of CI's modest frontage and the unsubstantiated notation that Jankowiak's secretive work was in peril. She finished with a final pot-stirring of the GenCorp controversy, either ignorantly or conveniently neglecting that Jankowiak had dropped his lawsuits simply because retribution was of lesser value to him than progress. Her cynical eulogy implied hidden wrongdoing, not a lack of funds. Jankowiak's bequeath was a tinted legacy.

  All Hands...

  That afternoon, the shocked personnel of CI gathered in the company lunchroom for an impromptu All Hands.

  “In light of today's tragedy,” Ryan addressed the meeting, “I will speak to the concerns we are all experiencing now...”

  He paused, fighting his grief and unable to speak even while CI's employees instinctively shuffled in their seats. To a person, they surmised that their jobs were at an end. For the fortunate, life savings would be tapped to survive the next few months. For those of lesser means, mortgages and rent payments would be missed; houses would be lost and credit would plummet toward ruin.

  Chance had once smiled upon them but now she showed blatant disfavor.

  “CI will survive,” Ryan promised. “I will not terminate a single employee unless the situation is dire.”

  “It is already dire!” A technician protested. He had been married for two years and his wife was pregnant with twins. This had been his first stable job in a decade.

  “It is urgent,” Ryan disagreed, welcoming the diversion because it allowed him to shore up his grief, “but I will be meeting with investors and partners over the next few weeks to secure their continued commitments.”

  “Is there any advance word?” Another voice asked. It was from a flirtatious admin. She was cute and forward but a burden on her peers. Even in the start-up