*****
Sam awoke with a start. She was sweating and tears were running down her face. It was dark. She couldn't see a thing. She didn't know where she was. Was she alive? Was she dead? Was she –
"Samantha?"
A sweet voice that held a hint of concern pierced Sam's thoughts. She couldn't have felt more relief in that moment.
"Mom, is that you?"
The light flipped on and Sam was momentarily blinded. Her sight adjusted quickly but not before a familiar sensation touched her. A hand caressed her forehead.
"Hey honey," Sam's mother said, "You look like you were having a nightmare."
Sam sat up. "I was. The dream couldn't have been more -- ."
A shooting pain racked Sam's body. She drifted backwards towards her pillow a ways before she caught and righted herself. Dizziness made her feel sick and disfigured her mother's face into something that wasn't so motherly. It was then that she looked down and noticed she was wearing pajamas.
"Sam, is something wrong?" asked her mother.
Sam looked up at her. "Mom, did you put my pj's on?"
Sam's mother gave her daughter a quizzical look. "Samantha, are you feeling ok? You know I couldn't have put on your pj's. I was at work all night."
That should have been obvious. Sam's mother was still in a semi-crisp uniform that sagged from the weight of a whole days' work. Sam hung her head shamefully, upset at her own insensitivity. Her mom worked long hours, and asking silly questions made it look like she didn't notice her mother's hard work, which wasn't the case at all.
The head of household for two different High Tracks families, Sam's mother was a manager extraordinaire. She had a commanding presence and executed her duties with military precision, which was to be expected of the overseer of hundreds of employees at four different manor houses. Sam knew that her mother could be severe if the circumstance called for it. Actually, she could be downright mean, but there wasn't a trace of that severity now. Sam's mother looked tired and more than a little worried. Sam forced a smile.
"I'm sorry Mom. I'm just little out of it tonight. I'm glad you're home."
Her mom smiled. "Me too, honey. You were shopping, right? How was your meet up with your friend, oh what was his name?
"Coda?"
"Yes that's the one."
Sam's stomach churned as she hesitated. "So it wasn't a dream."
"What was that, Hon?"
Sam snapped out of it. "Nothing, Mom. I'm just tired. Shopping was good. We met Coda's new girlfriend, Lacey. She was a looker."
Her mother's face soured slightly. "Oh, I'm sure that Camille was happy about that."
Sam shrugged as she started to get up out of bed. "Thanks for checking in on me, Mom. Have you eaten?"
Sam's mother placed her hands on Sam's shoulders, pulled her in to hug her, and then gently pushed her back. "You are more than exhausted. You look sick, and I'm perfectly capable of making myself some food, Sam. You go back to bed. It's quite apparent you've had a long day."
Sam did as she was told. "Good night, Mom. I love you."
"Goodnight honey. I love you too."
The minute the door shut Sam popped out of bed and started to pace around the room. She attempted to remain calm while she replayed the events, which until moments ago she had thought were a dream, in her mind. Images of the mall, Richard, Cammie, Adam, older guys. Unsettling and unsure feelings, impatience, Adam, wonder, warmth, and smiles. Walking, running, fear, pain, and then...Blackness raced around her mental vision. Now she was here. She was in her pj's, sleeping. It couldn't have all been real...could it?
She continued to pace. The men were slavers, human traffickers that took and sold girls to the plantation owners of the Burning Plans. The only way that she and Cammie have survived--
"Oh my George W. Bush! Cammie!" Sam rushed to her wall vid and called up Cammie. She waited impatiently as the connection finalized. Cammie's butler, Alfred, answered.
"Ahh, Ms. Montgomery," said the sharply dressed butler, "It is quite late. Do you mind me asking the reason for your call?"
Sam hesitated. He was speaking completely normally to her; no hint of drama or emergency. It gave her hope that Cammie was all right.
"I'm sorry Alfred, I was just hoping--wondering if--is Cammie ok?"
Alfred's eyebrow rose artfully. "An odd inquiry, Ms. Montgomery. You know very well that My Lady is recovering quietly from your adventures."
"So she got home ok?"
If Alfred was confused by the question he didn't show it. "Were you not the one who brought her home this evening after your outing? It was your code that accessed My Lady's wing of the complex."
Sam again hesitated. Now that didn't make any sense. Nobody had her access code. Nobody. Was she the one that brought Cammie home?
Sam fought the urge to shake her head. She smiled sweetly instead. "Alfred, what is Cammie doing right now?"
Alfred eyed her suspiciously. "She is sleeping Ms. Montgomery. Will there be anything else?"
Sam shook her head.
"Then good evening. I will inform My Lady of your call."
The vid blinked out.
Sam resumed her pacing. Her worry lessened slightly as the knowledge that Cammie was home and safe sunk in. They had both gotten home with no apparent injury. This sent Sam's mind whirling.
She spoke aloud. "This doesn't make any sense! There is no way those slavers would have let us go and no reason to think that rent-a-sec could take them. They were military, right? How is that possible?"
She kicked over a bag in frustration. "What's even weirder is Cammie and I got home without incident. I'm even in my pj's. That means that the person who saved us knew where we both live, but how could they know where we live unless – "
Sam tripped over the bag, falling flat on her face. Pain shot through her hands and head as she fell to the floor. She swore aloud and looked at what had caused her fall. It took her a second to recognize it. The contents of the bag from her shopping trip were jumbled with her half-open school bag. It seemed so long ago that they had been in the store looking for the perfect dress. She reached over the bag and grabbed the dress that Richard had bought her. A gesture of affection and one of the few ways he reached out, but not one that she understood. No one understood him. Sam had a sudden desire to speak to Richard, to hear his voice. Richard usually went to bed early unless he was caught up in some sort of academic "I'm-smarter-than-you" pursuit. She also knew that he would be super pissed at her if she called and woke him up. No, she couldn't just call him.
Sam went for her interface. She would check Richard's ViiS locator before she tried to call him.
Sam opened her school bag and felt around for the thin device. Involuntarily, her hand clamped down on something that was not her tablet. She tried to let go but her fingers wouldn't listen. It was strange. She could move her muscles, just not in the way that she wanted. Sam pulled her hand from the bag. It was the tin box she had found in the lake. Sam stared at it.
What in the--why can't I let go? she thought. Sam worked her fingers, trying to get them open for a brief span. They wouldn't let go. She centered the desk's corner in the middle of the box and pushed. Again her fingers would not let go. She was just about to lie down on the ground and start pushing with her feet when the box released her. She could move her fingers again. She dropped the box.
The metal hit the ground with a heavy clunk. The sounded resonated, but not the way a metal box should. Sam was no physics expert but she knew enough to know that the size, weight, and density of the box shouldn't have been enough to make that sort of sound. She half expected the floor to be cracked.
She moved to pick up the box and then stopped. What would happen if she got close to it again? She didn't want to touch the box with her hands so she did the only thing she could think of; she kicked it.
It slid unremarkably across the floor. At least it didn't stick to her foot.
&nb
sp; Sam checked the place where the box had hit. The floor looked as it always did, gleaming and polished. Sam stared at the spot in disbelief then looked over at the box. This was very strange.
What the devil are you?
Her curiosity got the better of her, and despite her earlier apprehension, she reached down, using the corner of her pj's to buffer her touch. She moved in slowly edging closer and closer until--she touched it.
Again, nothing strange happened.
Sam felt a bit of disappointment, though she really didn't know why. She should be happy that her hands weren't acting like a magnet, but still she was disappointed. She hadn't imagined it, had she?
Sam pulled her hand out from under her pj's and tried again.
For a third time, nothing happened. Baffled, she gripped the box with both hands and walked slowly back to her bed and plopped down on it. She held the box as her mind wandered.
Was she just so tired that her mind was playing tricks on her, or had that really just happened? What about the date with Adam and getting attacked by the slavers? How much of that was real? If her ordeal at the shopping center had not been a dream and indeed happened then she had definitely been through the ringer. Perhaps right now was a dream.
Sam shivered and shook her head, remembering the dream and the scary way it had unfolded.
The road, her dead friend, the rumble of the transport. Then there was the feeling of restraints and the bright light overhead. They had felt so real but was different than what had happened at the shopping center. That had been real. She was sure of it. Those men had attacked her, a security guard had showed up, and now she was home wearing her pink pj's. Things had grown weirder from there. She had been looking for her interface and had grabbed the box on accident.
No, that wasn't right.
She hadn't grabbed the box; it was the box that had grabbed her. Thinking back to the sensation, it was slight but it was there. The box had attached to her, and for a brief moment didn't want her to let go. The question was--
A throbbing white light exploded around her. She didn't know the source, but the sensation ate her up completely. All she could see was light. She heard a scream but couldn't tell where it was coming from. She felt the sting of a knife cutting skin but wasn't sure if it was her skin. She witnessed the heartfelt plea of someone begging another not to go, but she couldn't tell for the life of her who was leaving, who was staying, or why.
Still other emotions flooded her. Anger, rage, depression, pain, jealously, disgust, respect, happiness, joy, and love all mixed together into a stream of unending color. She didn't just feel the emotion, she saw it in a lightwave structure of hues.
Pain erupted. The colors and feelings retreated from their assault. All of it drained from her faster and faster until nothing was left.
Sam opened her eyes barely and noticed that her face was wet. She touched her own skin and pulled her hand away so she could see it. She realized that her tears were mixed with blood.
MESA Labs
Time: One week after the start of the college semester
Scene: MESA Labs main entrance
The beefy looking man behind the desk continued to scrutinize the identification summary on his screen. He looked up at the small gray-haired man in front on him and then back down to the screen. The small man looked around nervously, hoping to find a familiar face. He was just about to tell the guard to forget it, that he must have come to the wrong building, when Kingston strode out of the security doors behind the desk and up to the Professor.
"Good morning, Professor. I'm glad to see you made it to our cozy home."
"Oh, Mr. Kingston. I'm glad...well, I was beginning to wonder if I had the right place at all," replied the Professor.
"Yes, you are definitely in the right place, Professor. As soon as we finish logging your credentials into our security matrix, I'll give you a tour of the facilities." Kingston glanced towards the beefy guard, who nodded and handed him an ID card.
"Good, good. Here is your temporary badge, Professor. You'll need to use it until we can get you wired up." Kingston handed the Professor the badge as he escorted him to the security doors.
"Wired up?" inquired the Professor.
"Just a phrase we toss around here. You see, our security uses state-of-the-art biometric locks, including rapid DNA scanning and encrypted RFID proximity authentication. We took your DNA at the desk from the epithelials you left on the desktop and coded them into our system. Later we'll get you fitted with one of these."
Kingston held up his right wrist and pointed to the faintest of scars. The Professor had to lean in close to see the very faded dot right above the area that Kingston was pointing to.
"And what is that?" asked the Professor.
"It's our RFID chip, designed and produced all in house here at MESA. The head of our interface lab has a lot of neat little gadgets that the company takes advantage of."
The Professor's face grew a little apprehensive.
"Oh don't worry, its painless and so small you'll never notice it. It samples the DNA surrounding it and then transmits the coded data to the receivers. The radio used is pretty limited, so it only transmits your credentials when in close proximity to a security station here on the grounds. For now you can just use your badge. It takes a few hours for your profile to load through the matrix, so we'll get you wired after the tour."
The Professor's apprehension ebbed slightly as they continued down the hallway.
The two came to a large sealed door with another guard station off to the side. The Professor was so busy staring down the various offshoots and hallways that when he saw the tall, slender strawberry-blonde goddess standing at the desk he let out an audible gasp. She was dressed in a version of the security uniform that the front desk guard had on, but noticeably different. It was almost as if this one had been tailor made to accentuate the woman's ample curves. She looked up from her screen at the noise, appraised the Professor, and then glanced at Kingston.
"Ah, what a happy coincidence. Professor, I'd like to introduce our head of security, Ms. Green. Ms. Green works very hard to make sure all of us are safe here at MESA."
"How do you do, Ms. Green? Is it normal for employees to be unsafe working here?" asked the Professor.
The woman smiled a knowing and somewhat flirtatious smile. The Professor only grasped the knowing half of it.
"I run a very tight ship here, Professor. The safety of our employees and the company's assets is paramount. Aside from the secured areas of the grounds, you will hardly know that we are even here." Again the smile crossed her lips.
"Yes, well, Professor, you will be seeing more of Ms. Green later when you get wired, but for now let me show you your new home, so to speak." Kingston glanced at the clock on the wall, nodded to the woman, and then led the Professor off. He did not, however, notice her following him with her eyes as he passed through the security doors. Kingston led the Professor down another hallway with the same offshoots and conjoining corridors as the first.
"My goodness, a person could get very lost in this place," remarked the Professor.
"We've thought of that as well," replied Kingston as he moved over to a screen on the wall. As soon as he approached, the screen flashed a holo-message, "Welcome Kingston. You are in corridor 1 Alpha, section 8. How may I assist you today?"
Kingston motioned to the screen. "Again, the head of the interface lab's idea. Each section of the grounds has these terminals lining the hallways. From here you can access unsecured mail or make a non-private vid call, among many other things. You can also send a message to an employee and the terminal matrix will find that employee anywhere in the grounds and flash the screen nearest them to give them your message. Everything is read from your RFID so the system automatically knows who you are."
The Professor eyed the screen. "So if I do get lost, I just need to remember someone's name to call and come find me," he said with a laugh.
"Even bett
er Professor," Kingston stood in front of the screen. "Directions to the Professor's lab please."
The screen projected a hologram of the MESA logo that then morphed into an arrow flowing through a series of hallways and turns until it terminated at a point on the map. The map continuously changed from 2D to 3D and back again, showing the path.
"Now watch as we walk down the hall. The screens that we pass will light up with our next direction as my RFID transmits my identification," explained Kingston as he and the Professor continued walking down the hall.
To his surprise, the Professor saw each of the screens they approached flash with an arrow pointing the way they should go. Projected animation accompanied the screens where a turn was required, showing the two when to head left or right.
The Professor was very excited to see the next screens and eventually got a little ahead of Kingston. As he was making a right hand turn Kingston called out to him.
"Professor, one moment. I wanted to make a quick stop to show you something I think you will find interesting."
The Professor popped back around the corner as Kingston walked up to a large secured doorway.
"Each section of the grounds is coded to that employee's security level. I wanted you to be able to see this place with me, as your clearance isn't set yet."
The door opened and a slight breeze from the negatively pressurized area behind it swept outwards with an accompanying "whoosh".
The two men walked through the entryway into a brightly lit lab filled with a host of terminals and personnel working away. The Professor saw glass enclosures with people inside them performing the strangest of tasks and making a myriad of humorous looking faces in the process. There was a man hooked up to what looked like an EEG with wires streaming from his head. He looked as if he was attempting to win a staring contest with a robotic arm that was gripping the lid of a jar. Another person had a very large backpack of metal, antennas, and wires and was paying attention to a small remote control car that was zooming about the room. Yet another had a headband on and was staring at a projected chessboard as unseen masters played out a game.
The Professor continued to look around, completely forgetting about his tour guide. He moved from enclosure to enclosure, watching and wondering what these subjects were doing. It wasn't until he bumped into a lab tech that he remembered where he was and who he was with.
"Oh pardon me, I am so sorry dear," said the startled Professor. "I didn't see you there. I was so fascinated by what was happening to that man that I completely forgot to watch where I was going. In fact, I seemed to have wandered off a bit. Do you happen to see Mr. Kingston around?"
"Over here, Professor," called Kingston from across the room. "I'd like you to meet someone."
The Professor again apologized to the lab tech and walked toward Kingston and a taller man, who by his demeanor was very experienced and wise, but didn't look a day over forty.
"Professor, I would like you to meet the head of our Interface Lab, Charles Jameson."
"Please Professor, call me CJ. All my friends do." The taller man greeted the Professor with a firm handshake.
"Well, CJ, I'm pleased to meet you. Do you often make friends of strangers so quickly?" asked the Professor congenially.
"Forgive me, Professor," said the taller man smiling. "I am a closet fan of your work. Have been since you began it. I've read every paper you've published and I watch every lecture you have on the feeds. I guess I feel that I know you already."
"Oh, well now I am the one at the disadvantage of not knowing you so well. But from what Mr. Kingston has shown me, just with your contributions to the security around here I do say that I am intrigued already by your work. Tell me, what are all these people doing that had me so engrossed?"
The taller man smiled and motioned for the Professor to come with him to the glass enclosures. "Here at the interface lab we work on perfecting the synergy created by connecting the human brain to an external processor. These trials you see here are all iterations of types of computer/human interfaces or CHI's that we have developed."
The three men started to cover the same route as the Professor's previous solo trek around the lab.
"This subject here is interfacing with the robotic arm to give it commands to unscrew the jar. Here a modular interface is assisting this subject to send radio waves to control the car. It's been doing left hand circles for 20 minutes now, so we're trying to get the darn thing to change its direction. We just can't seem to find the right frequency."
"What was that? Did you say frequency?" asked the Professor.
"Yes, we tuned the pack to emit different frequencies that match with different simple commands. Forward, backward, right, left. However, it seems that the subject is having difficulty adjusting his focus as the car is doing dizzying circles."
"And what about this man staring at the chessboard?" inquired the Professor.
"Not staring Professor, playing. This is one of our most advanced iterations. And one of our most gifted subjects." The three men watched as virtual pieces were moved back and forth across the floating board.
"Extraordinary!" exclaimed the Professor. "Tell me, do you have any contracts for this work? I mean, who funds your research?"
Jameson was about to answer when Kingston cut him off. "Mostly pharmaceutical companies. Although we do have large contracts with various defense departments from across the collective, a large part of our research is self-funded as well. MESA labs has quite the portfolio and we've done well over the years."
"Most interesting. The university is just now getting interested investors to look at my research. It was most exciting."
"Yes, well you are in for a rollercoaster ride here at MESA," Kingston replied. "You'll be a kid in a candy store with all the resources and personnel you'll need to bring to fruition your passion for Harmonicum research."
"Yes, well I am looking forward to furthering Harmonicum. So many possibilities." The Professor turned again to look at the virtual chessboard. "I dare say, Dr. Jameson – I mean CJ – that Harmonicum would be of a great worth to your work here in your lab."
Kingston sharply met Jameson's eye.
"Yes, well I am sure that it would. Perhaps in the future we could harmonize the frequencies of our efforts," Jameson replied.
The Professor turned around slowly to look at Jameson.
"Well, Professor, we have a lot of ground to cover. We should get you to your new lab. Jameson." Kingston nodded curtly and whisked the Professor off.
"It was nice to meet you. Thank you for the tour," called the Professor as he and Kingston exited the lab.
A few hallways and corridors later, the terminal screens showed they were approaching the Professor's lab. Just before they arrived, they passed a woman entering the largest secured door that the Professor had seen thus far.
"My goodness, that lab looks enormous," said the Professor, craning his neck to see past the closing door. "Looks like a whole array of human and animal trials. Could we tour this lab just for a moment? It looks fascinating."
"Unfortunately no," Kingston quickly replied. "That lab has the highest security clearance of all the labs on this wing. Our contracts dictate that all personnel who work or even merely visit are vetted and cleared by the contract holders. Perhaps when you're settled in a few weeks or months, we can arrange a tour."
The Professor watched as door slowly closed. "Yes, I would appreciate that very much, Mr. Kingston."
The two made a few more turns and finally arrived at another secured door. Kingston showed the Professor how to operate his security badge and temporary DNA scan. The door swung open and they walked into the new lab. Lab techs were running around calibrating instruments, working with technicians who were setting up large racks of equipment, and generally looking busy.
The Professor noticed that the area was divided into three main sections. He could see an office section complete with open area workspaces and a few closed offices, a mai
n lab area that took up the majority of the space, and a third area consisting of sealed experiment bays.
"Amazing. This is impressive indeed," marveled the Professor. His eyes swept the room, taking in the various areas, machines, equipment racks, terminals, monitoring interfaces, and all the people. "This is at least three times the size of my university research facility."
"Actually, about four times. There is an additional set of experiment bays off to the right there," indicated Kingston.
The Professor's eyes grew wide. "And the staff? Certainly all these people are just getting things in order. How many will stay once the lab is set up?"
"All of them, Professor. Each one of these employees is at your disposal to further your work. We provided you with a team of lab techs, analysts, experiment coordinators, assistants, and technology managers. All of their previous assignments have been retired so there will be nothing that will divert their time from you."
The Professor turned slowly towards Kingston, a look of astonishment and giddy anticipation on his face.
A small wiry man approached Kingston and the Professor. "Ah, Kingston. So good to see you. This must be the great Dr. Thurman." The man extended his bony hand to the Professor.
"Professor, this is your head research assistant, David Warrick," said Kingston.
"Very nice to meet you David. Please, Professor is just fine. I've grown accustomed to it over the years of teaching," said the Professor, shaking the young man's hand.
"Likewise. Everyone around here just calls me Warrick. Shall we introduce you to everyone else in the lab?" Warrick turned to address the room. "Excuse me, everyone." All of the employees in the lab immediately stopped what they were doing and all turned to look at Warrick. "I would like you to meet Dr. Eli Thurman, the head of MESA's new Harmonics Lab."
Big Sister
Time: Three weeks into the Professor's employment at MESA Labs
Scene: Harmonics lab
"These results are most impressive, Warrick." The Professor reviewed numbers as they scrolled down a screen. "Far better than I had hoped for. And the work on the interval frequencies?"
"Just as impressive, Professor. The interval team is making great strides in documenting the passive oscillators that show promise. We should have a list for your review by the end of the week." Warrick stood in the Professor's office, delivering his daily update. "And I'm happy to report that the modifications on the spectral array seem to be giving us a more accurate reading."
"Very good, all very good, Warrick. I had no idea that this much could be accomplished in such a short amount of time," mused the Professor.
"Well, it seems that we have a good partnership between your mind and MESA's resources. Is there anything else you need an update on, Professor?"
The Professor looked up from the scrolling numbers. "No, no, that's fine for today. Besides, I need to drop off some notes I've been working on for CJ at the interface lab."
"Oh, I can do that for you Professor," offered Warrick. "I'm heading past there on my way to Security. My RFID chip has been acting up. Just need to get it checked."
"Oh, well I was hoping to go over some suggestions with CJ about one or two of his interface trials. We haven't been able to line up our schedules recently."
"It wouldn't be a problem at all, Professor. Like I said, it's on my way. I'll go and load these updates to the lab server and then head over there." Warrick reached out and took the mini-drive from the Professor's desk. He started to walk out of the office and then turned back.
"I know Jameson has been busy with a new interface iteration. I'm sure you two will find some time to chat soon." Warrick smiled and then left the office.
He went to the office next to the Professor's and sat down at his terminal. He loaded the mini-drive and called up the files. He scanned through them quickly, previewing some and skipping others. He bundled the files and called up his encrypted mail server. He attached the files with some simple instructions and sent the message. A few seconds later a message was returned. Warrick read the message, deleted it, and then set the server to scrub his recent activity. He hid the server app and then locked his terminal. Warrick rose from his desk, picked up his tablet, and proceeded out of his office.
He walked through the work area to the secure exit door. Exiting the lab, he took the quickest route possible to a short hallway off to the side of the interface lab. Two secured doors, a security post, and an elevator ride later Warrick walked into the boardroom.
"You're late!" barked the old man.
"My apologies, sir," started Warrick. He then cleared his throat and spoke in a much deeper tone. "I was smoke screening Jameson's lack of availability."
"Still trying to foster that relationship, is he? Well, continue your efforts. The work in the Interface Lab is too close to Thurman's. We need the Professor isolated from it for a while longer." The old man shifted in his leather chair. The floating heads on the monitors grumbled their agreement. "Just the same, we may need to review our social isolation efforts."
"Of course, sir. Shall I continue with my update?" asked Warrick.
"That is why you are here, Warrick," said Kingston from behind the old man's chair.
Warrick glared at Kinston and then addressed the other members of the board sitting in the darkened room.
"The progress in the lab over the last period has exceeded our projections in all categories. At this rate, we will be able to start feeding the Interface Lab data in four or five more cycles, which is two periods ahead of schedule. I will coordinate with Jameson to make sure his lab will be on-line and ready to receive the data earlier than planned."
"And what of the other related experiments in the wing. Is the isolation plan working?" asked a floating head.
"It is," replied Warrick, "aside from the close call on his first day." Warrick stared at Kingston. "The secured lab has been apprised of the Professor's movements throughout the wing using his RFID locator. They are adhering to the no-contact policy quite well."
"Speaking of no contact, Jameson is behaving himself, isn't he?" asked the old man.
"Yes he is. The Professor had worked on some suggested updates for the Interface Lab and was going to walk them over, but I intercepted them before I came here. I sent them to the isolation team and they are currently working on drafting a response from Jameson. They will brief him on the surrogate contact. Aside from these infrequent attempts to interact on the Professor's part, Jameson has adhered to the no contact policy. Personally, I think the Professor was taken by the Interface Lab's research and nothing more. I believe he is trying to be friendly and social."
"Well, it's a good thing you aren't paid to think," retorted Kingston. "What you haven't noticed," continued Kingston as he read Warrick's confusion, "is that Ms. Green has recorded no less than twelve attempts by the Professor to visit Jameson in his lab. If that's the Professor trying to be friendly, then our reconnaissance team needs to be terminated. The Professor is normally consumed by his work and previously had very few professional associations, and almost no social ones that we were aware of. This effort to form a relationship with Jameson has me, for one, concerned. One false move and we have a serious liability on our hands."
"Well put, Kingston," commented the old man. "I want a full review of the isolation team's protocols to ensure we keep the good Professor where he needs to be: in his lab making MESA very wealthy."
"Of course sir, I'll have that review scheduled immediately," said Warrick. He tapped out a few commands on his tablet and then returned his attention to the board.
"As for the progress on the equation, the Professor has made some very intriguing insights. The interval iterations are progressing faster than projected and he believes he is close to starting work on the element trials as soon as the week after next."
"And has he made any indication that he recognizes any of the work from his early experiments?" asked another floating head.
"No sir, I don't believe so,"
answered Warrick. "While his early work was the foundation for our work here, we have not only surpassed his expectations but, by ultimately using the Interface Lab as the end game, we've taken his work in a direction that he could not have even dreamed of. I understand the need to keep the Professor in the dark about what he is working towards, but I am still pleased at the progress we are making despite the inconvenience of indirect application."
"That's all wonderful news," remarked the old man. "If we can get that equation built, Jameson's progress in the Interface Lab will skyrocket. Gentlemen, I believe we are closer than ever to being able to terminate the original prototype and proceed with our efforts on the second generation. Jameson's last report on Proto 2 showed promising acceptance of the latest round of coding trials." He turned to Warrick. "Anything else to report?"
Warrick looked uneasy. "There is one concern that may be approaching faster than anticipated. We are coming up on the physical trials. Since the Professor is the expert on Harmonicum, I wish to raise my concerns that the cover story explaining MESA's considerable quantity of Harmonicum may be insufficient to curtail his curiosity in the matter."
"Warrick, your clearance, let alone the Professor's, isn't high enough to even begin to discuss that," replied Kingston. "The original response is the best response. Simply tell him it's classified. Even you don't know where the resource comes from. And since you don't, you won't even have to lie."
Warrick again stared coldly at Kingston. "Very well. That is my update, ladies and gentlemen. I will file my report and return to the lab."
Warrick returned to the elevator and proceeded down.
The old man touched a spot on the table and the floating heads all returned to MESA logos. "Kingston, I told you not to aggravate the situation with your petty pissing match with Warrick. I need him at his best, not being reminded of his inferiority to you."
"Yes sir. I'll watch that," replied Kingston.
The old man stood and walked to the window, his hands folded behind his back.
"Where are we on the facility break in investigation? Heaven knows I've already spent a barge of credits to smoke screen the media. Please tell me you have good news."
Kingston called up a report on his screen. "Well, the scrub team has completed their trace and they have only been able to come up with partial results. The data servers were infected with a rage worm that tunneled through the security wall. That prevented a complete back up from being made before the alarms were triggered."
"Enough with the tech talk, Kingston." The old man turned from the window to stare at Kingston. "Do we have a lead on the lost project or not?"
Kingston slowly looked up from his tablet. "Yes, sir. We do."