BRAINSTORM

Chapter Sixteen - Robots or real?

Jack pushed the button to begin the conference call. "Thanks, for agreeing to this meeting." His voice vibrated eerily off the walls of his office.

"I represent your TR group." Each word sounded distinct from the others, as though a computer spoke. Jack was curious. Were they people, computers, or a little of both?

"So the rest of them aren't there with you?"

"No."

Jack coughed. He looked down at his notes and mentally took questions that could be answered with only a yes or no off the list. "Do you have any questions about my work?"

"No."

He hadn't realized that would be a one-word answer, too. He changed tack. "I noticed that you're looking at a slightly different set of proteins then I was. Can you explain why?"

"You were using the wrong ones."

Jack clenched his fists. "Obviously, but can you walk me through it?"

"Dr. Kerwin, all of this is already on your tablet."

"Humor me."

"If I must."

"Please. But first I have another question."

"Yes?"

"Don't you mind that you never get credit for your discoveries? Why doesn't it bother you?"

"We do get credit. Everyone knows you're here, don't they? When you leave and have your template for a cure, it will be obvious that we provided the answer."

"You don't even have names."

Jack looked down at the tablet that was displaying their conversation as it happened. He took his own notes, too.

"Our name is Tabula Rasa."

"I mean individual names."

"That is the only name we care about, Dr. Kerwin."

If that were true, it was pretty bizarre. "Forget it. Let's go back to the question about the protein sequence."

"As you wish."

~~~

Jack's mouth hung open, and his head lolled forward. His body was limp. He made a strange gurgling sound. He repeated the odd iteration then suddenly jerked up straight, realizing he'd been snoring.

Jack smiled inwardly, shaking his head and rolling his shoulders backward several times, glancing up at TR's monitor. It looked the same as always. Clearly, he was no longer enthralled with sitting and watching TR work, since it was literally putting him to sleep.

He reached for his notes from the morning's phone conference and pulled up the corresponding page from the embedded tablet in his cubicle. He would have liked to be able to print from it, but that was not allowed at CIRAS.

Jack went over the questions he'd asked them this morning and their responses point by point. He was on the fifth page of notes when something stuck out. The notes indicated that TR referred to a segment of genetic code with a different label than what they had originally given this grouping earlier in the discussion. The name was similar, but it definitely wasn't the same. Why hadn't he noticed that this morning?

Jack scrolled through the last few days of TR's computations and notes. He found the label reference he was looking for, and he was right. It was not the same.

Jack checked his notes one more time. There was definitely a discrepancy. It might look minor to those who weren't in his field, but it was very important. Any label used for a gene grouping was permanent. Changing a label could mean losing track of that particular piece of the computer model, and finding it again would require dozens of hours of work to retrace steps and find the problem.

It was a rookie mistake, and it alarmed Jack considerably. He was quite awake now.

"Computer."

"Yes, Jack."

"I want you to request another meeting with my TR group." Jack leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed, expecting resistance.

"Already? You just talked to them this morning, Jack."

Jack's expression hardened. "Yeah, I know, but I need to ask them a question about something we talked about. It can't wait."

"You could ask me."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean what I just said. You can ask me."

"But I definitely need to talk to them. I mean–"

The computer interrupted him. "Just ask me, Jack."

Could a computer get angry? "Okay, fine." Jack explained the incongruity he had found between the two labels.

The computer took longer to answer than it ever had. "I understand why that would be distressing. Can you tell me the incorrect label from this morning?"

Jack read the sequence from his notes.

"Yes, that is incorrect. But maybe you are the one who made the mistake."

"I didn't make a mistake. This is all I've done for half my life, for Christ's sake!"

"Then you won't mind looking at the transcript of the conversation I just sent you?"

That made sense. "Yeah, sure. Hold on." Jack pulled it up and brought himself to the pertinent section on the tablet. "Hey." He frowned. "Hold on a second."

Jack shook his head and blinked his eyes several times. This couldn't be right. Yet, the symbols glowed with crisp distinction on the screen. The genetic label on the tablet was now the original one that TR had used. What the hell?

"Is there a problem, Jack?"

Jack looked up at the computer, bewildered. "What? No. I mean, I don't know. They were different, and now they aren't anymore. I don't get it."

"Well, you haven't been sleeping enough, Jack. Maybe you were just confused."

It was true that he hadn't been sleeping well. But he knew what he had seen and heard. That meant . . .

Jack made a quick decision. "Yeah, that must be it. Sorry to bother you."

"I am a computer, Jack. I can't be bothered."

"Yeah, right."

Jack stumbled out of the narrow opening of his office and sat down on the edge of his bed. He needed to think. He raked his hand through his hair.

What the hell was CIRAS keeping from him, from all of them? TR was just a group of people, right? They were weird people, freaky smart people, but human, right?

Jack paused. Maybe that was it. Maybe they weren't human anymore. Maybe TR members were genetically engineered, or altered, or had cybernetic components. He shuddered at the Borg-like images that intruded into his mind.

Considering the high technology CIRAS was capable of, it was feasible. Maybe all those strange metals were used for more than just sterile looking furniture. Maybe he couldn't meet with his TR group in person because then he would see for himself what CIRAS had done—how they had changed people into machines.

He made a decision to go to Jameson and see if he could get the truth from him, knowing he'd never get it from Maxwell.