He did so despite a slight limp and the ever-present aches in his legs and right hip, in part a legacy of a nightmare now almost two decades removed. He did so despite the campus's cutting-edge communications net, which could drop him into a high fidelity VR space with anyone on Terabyte payroll, from the office next door to the Nevada Annex or the Joint Materials Process Module orbiting 12,000 kilometers overhead.
He did so because he liked the woods, and because he did not want to surrender to time or to the pain, and because the walk had become a mind-clearing meditation. He invariably left his comset behind in his office, and his staff knew better than to disturb him on 'his' trail, even on those occasions when he loitered an hour or more in making the transit.
That morning, however, he was not loitering. The message from Jordan Kilmer, a member of the Biophysics workgroup, had been equal parts urgency and intrigue: 'Director, we've had an unexpected development in the TOCS project. Please come to the lab at the very earliest moment possible, so I can brief you - and you can advise me. I'm sending the rest of the team home until we talk.'
TOCS was the Trace Organic Contaminant Separator, a direct descendant of Horton's modification of the Mark V Trigger for deactivating chemical weapons. The goal of the TOCS project was to produce an analyzer-projector which could swiftly break down poisons already ingested by a living organism. The unsolved challenge of TOCS was to refine the selectivity of the projector to the point where only the contaminant was destroyed - and not any structurally similar compounds necessary for life. The toll in research animals had been so high that Kilmer's nickname was 'Killer', and Biophysics was commonly referred to as the Morgue.
Horton found Kilmer tuning his test rig in Biophysics 3, an otherwise deserted lab whose high windows admitted light but allowed no view. The test rig filled a large utility cart. Five meters away, a cage containing a dozen guinea pigs rested atop a lab stool.
'Hey, Jordan. I thought you were working in Two,' Horton said.
'Director - Christ, I'm glad you're here. I got this out of Two and locked it up as soon as I realized what was happening,' Kilmer said, straightening up.
'Why, what's going on?'
'We upgraded the analyzer with the new long-molecule smart filters yesterday. I've had three people working on them for four months - organic chemistry married to high-level Boolean logic -'
'I remember. Teething pains?'
'Not exactly.' Kilmer moved around to the other side of the test rig, and waved Horton to follow. 'Watch the cage. Keep your eye on the big one on the right.'
'With the mostly black face?'
That's the one my sample came from,' Kilmer said, and started the analyzer. The test rig's displays were busy with numbers and waterfall graphs for more than two minutes, then became quiet again. 'The system's locked in on the sample, and selected an H-wave profile. I'm going to give the go-ahead for treatment.'
'Okay.'
Kilmer pushed a safety interlock and turned a spring-loaded knob. The test rig hummed briefly, and as it did, the black-faced guinea pig collapsed.
That was fast,' Morton said. 'Is it dead?'
'Extremely,' said Kilmer.
Horton was a touch surprised by the indifference of the other guinea pigs, which continued to nibble lettuce unconcernedly. But the result itself seemed quite in keeping with TOCS's previous problems.
That was the only one of the group contaminated, I take it?' he asked.
'None of them were contaminated,' Kilmer said, shutting off the test rig.
Horton's eyebrows narrowed. Then what was your sample?'
'One strand of fur plucked from its back.'
Horton stared at Kilmer, then at the cage. 'What happened, Jordan? Explain this to me.'
'A single simple error in twenty-six billion bits of code - a NOT where there should have been an AND. The analyzer selects for the DNA pattern of the sample, instead of excluding it. It's almost like a mutation, really. But you see why I had to close up shop. One microscopic flake of someone's skin hitting the open sample tray, and -'
'Are you saying that you can selectively tune for any DNA pattern with this?'
'Yes.'
'How selectively?'
'I don't think it could distinguish between identical twins,' he said. 'But other than that - well, all of those animals are litter-mates.'
'Sweet mercy,' Horton said. He cautiously approached the cage, his eyes wide with awe and dismay. 'So, in theory, you could target any individual organism -'
'Not in theory,' said Kilmer, following. 'I just did it. I did it three more times this morning, and twice yesterday. Given enough markers from a DNA profile, it will zero right in on a single individual. All it takes is a drop of sweat or blood, a flake of skin, a hair -'
Standing on opposite sides of the cage, they stared long and hard at the dead guinea pig and its unknowing siblings. The perfect murder weapon,' Horton said hoarsely. 'An assassin's dream. It'll kill only the person it's tuned for, and no one else in the entire world -'
'You see why I had to lock it up?'
'But you can't lock it up, Jordan. Don't you understand?' There was anger in his voice, and fear. 'Nature doesn't keep secrets. She won't play along, no matter how you cozen her.'
Horton turned away suddenly, and in doing so his gaze settled on the brass plaque beside the lab door - the plaque which bore the face of PeaceTech's benefactor, and his old friend and mentor.
'What now, Karl?' he asked despairingly. 'Now what shall we do?'
Arthur C. Clarke, The Trigger
(Series: # )
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