CHAPTER NINETEEN
The Thousand Islands
SIMON’S HEAD WAS SLUMPED FORWARD, his posture obviously burdened by the weight of what had just transpired. While standing at the extremity of the rear deck, his arms were outstretched, his hands firmly planted upon its railing. The ransom call they were waiting for had just come through, at 6:00 pm, exactly. The terms seemed impossible, almost too difficult to comprehend. Lionel and Inspector Hansen remained in front of the wall-mounted television. They looked at each other, still wondering if they had heard the demands correctly.
The perfect human genome is what Jennifer’s captors wanted from Simon. And as if the audacious demand wasn’t troubling enough on its own, the assertion that it even existed meant only one thing; a mole lurked within PurIntel. As far as Simon knew, none of his employees had the ability to hack into his encrypted personal files, save for one, possibly.
The world is not ready for it, he often thought to himself. A genetically perfect entity, that is. Flawless organs, bone, and tissue were one thing. Their genes were already being spliced into otherwise deficient sequences allowing in-vitro embryos to disinherit the unpredictable laws of nature. Soon whole organs would be grown as replacements for those afflicted with disease. Humanity had proven itself capable of adapting to its ever-changing environment, but this was different. Simon wanted to plan this journey out, to chart its perils, and then reduce its obstacles to their fundamental, more manageable components.
Change always experiences a lower rejection rate, he often reflected, when it is undertaken one-step at a time. Small steps, after all, are much less painful than leaping from one light year to the next.
Simon was more adept than most at envisioning the fallout from placing a powerful tool in the wrong hands. Lionel was dumbfounded by the prospect that a perfect human might someday exist. Like Jennifer, he had read the sensational tabloid rumours; that the God Sequence had been discovered; that the virtues had not only been identified, but the extent to which they were expressed in any given individual could be determined. You didn’t have to be a scientist, least of all a geneticist, to appreciate the social ramifications. The process of natural selection would not be set aside for everyone, only those who could afford it. Genetic stereotyping alone could lead humankind down a dark path.
Simon had planned to go public with the file, but he never imagined having to do so under these circumstances. The media frenzy, he knew, would be nothing if not excessive. Fear would be the usual fulcrum by which knowledge and understanding were victimized.
The PurIntel CEO would have to divulge the fact that, yes, the process of recognizing the diamonds in the rough was the result of cataloguing millions of DNA strands. However, he would also have to concede the fact that the perfect human genome was not found among them in its entirety. In truth, it had been pieced together and then replicated in a soft-copy format. The fact that the perfect human genome was a construct, that it had been designed by Sophia, and that she accomplished the monumental feat on her own would offer the public a glimpse into the immense potential of supercomputers like her.
It was the one and only time Simon had given her permission to write her own software. The interrelationship of some inheritable diseases was too daunting for even Simon’s programming ability. Still further, the most difficult revelation for the public to accept would be that the perfect gene sequence she blue-printed was both organic and synthetic. Sophia’s theoretical model leveraged the XNA successes of Gen Tech’s Sword computer and designed an entirely synthetic counterpart to her biological super genome.
It wasn’t even an expressed goal, to splice together and synthesize all of its blemish-free human components. But that’s what Sophia did, when given the opportunity. She leveraged the qualities that enabled her human counterpart to survive, moreover thrive thus far in the world: ingenuity, resourcefulness, the confidence to take matters into one’s hands, so to speak. Simon was not surprised to find Sophia discovering these and other qualities within her vast accumulated knowledge.
When Sophia announced the synthetic aspect of her accomplishment to Simon, he knew immediately some troubling questions would soon have to be answered; the degree to which it could it be exploited, cloned, possibly weaponized? Sensational headlines would undoubtedly.resound with the revelation. Those explanations, however, would have to be deferred for now. Jennifer had to be found soon, by midnight, in fact.
To this point, Jennifer’s captors had not made the ransom demand public. They would, though, if Simon didn’t comply quickly. That would launch the tragedy into another stratosphere, one that Sophia would acknowledge, if she weren’t consumed by zeroing in on the location from which the ransom message had been sent.
Her remote deployment system was ready to utilize its holographic image projectors to display any supporting image, but for now only Simon’s laptop was needed to offer a visualization of the process.
A briefcase sat on the coffee table in front of Lionel and Inspector Hansen. Simon’s laptop link to Sophia lay within. Behind them and to each side were three plush couches at right angles to each other; their focal point, the flat panel television on the wall. Several paces to the rear, a large gas-fired hearth commanded the centre of the room. Rising out of the floor in stone, it lay dormant beneath a vaulted ceiling. Bedrooms occupied the east and west second floor lofts.
The home’s spacious and well-appointed kitchen was situated off to the right. An island stood between it and its complimentary oak dining table, upon which sat the Inspector’s computer. Off to the left, on the other side of the hearth, a pool table lay equally inactive; it’s taught covering was intact. Sophia’s holographic image projectors stood at the ready, one at each of its four corners.
While Lionel’s attention was drawn to his brother’s troubled disposition, the Inspector’s was captured by descending satellite images, which Simon was observing on his laptop. Its accompanying surround sound emanated from the room’s entertainment system. “Can we get that image on the big screen?” the Inspector asked. He had returned for the more official aspects of the investigation.
“Of course,” Sophia replied. Her speakers were inlaid into a hard-shell briefcase. Its computer was tightly fitted and continued to display the same image as the larger screen on the wall. Four half-spheres remained empty, their holographic projectors placed and ready.
The Inspector walked closer to the flat panel on the wall. From a geographic sector including the Greater Hamilton-Toronto Area, Sophia continued her ransom call trace to regions within Mississauga, North York, and Scarborough. A holographic image coalesced above the covered pool table. A three-dimensional City of Toronto soon took shape. The familiar skyline rotated slowly, while at the same time reflecting a narrowing of the zone in question.
To the right of the Inspector, Lionel stood in the threshold of two opened French doors. He was about to check on his brother, but something beyond the deck distracted him. “What the …,” he said, just as Simon’s attention was drawn to the same object out on the river. It seemed to be coming toward them. A craft of some sort looked as though it was both on and above the water at the same time. Lionel walked out on to the deck and called back through the open door. “Inspector,” he stated, loudly. “I think you might want to come and see this.”
Inspector Hansen joined Simon and Lionel outside. “I guess Mr. Gill is a man of his word,” Hansen suggested.
A blacked-out vessel careened across the water. Striking as it was on its own, as it got closer, two additional figures appeared to be keeping pace beside it. Simon could make out the unmistakable twin V hull of the boat, as well as its lone helmsman, but it was the craft’s flanking hardware that caught and held the attention of all three men.
As the convoy closed the distance to the Canadian side of the waterway, one thing became obvious. The accompanying escort was obviously airborne; each appeared manned by a single rider. They sped beside their counterpart, racing almost without sound. Both the
craft that split the water and those that hovered over it bore the same audio signature. It spoke of one thing: stealth. They must be battery powered, Lionel thought.
The boat throttled back first, allowing its escort to seamlessly traverse the transition from river to land. Had it not been for their addition, the militaristic looking vessel would have captured everyone’s attention. The boat slowed, its helmsman readying himself to come alongside Simon’s dock.
Lionel smiled before descending the few stairs to the backyard lawn. The Inspector followed as the two SWAT type operatives brought their vehicles to a hovering standstill. Their appearance was unmistakable, part jet pilot, part commando. Simon shook his head, realizing what they reminded him of; the famous two-wheeled Segway. These machines were not designed for ground transport, though. They were obviously suspended by powerful quad-copter engines capable of propelling their rider in whichever direction they were guided. Simon surmised that the same principles of steering applied to the Segway’s air-borne counterpart as each pilot reduced rotator speed and brought their respective units to the ground.
The man on the left stepped off his unit first. “Mr. Taylor,” he stated, taking off his helmet. He looked directly at Simon; his unit’s on-board facial recognition system had obviously identified all those present on approach. “My name is Decker. My partners and I are here on orders from our employer, Gen Tech. This is my associate, Connor. Sims will remain with the boat, for the time being.”
The second Marine-like individual followed the first up the stairs and onto the deck. Decker paused long enough to offer his hand to Simon. “Sorry to hear about your daughter, Sir.”
“Thank you, Mr. Decker.”
“Would you mind if we went inside?” Decker asked. He seemed officious and anxious to get down to work.
“Of course,” Simon replied, leading the way indoors.
“The sooner we get things underway, the sooner we’ll find your daughter.”
The confidence in Decker’s voice lifted Simon’s soul its first notch above despair.
Decker gave the room a quick scan and suggested to his partner, “We’ll set up on that table.” A nod from Decker’s associate was followed by the removal of a medium-sized backpack. From it, he pulled a small briefcase. After sitting down at the head of the table, he opened it, typed in a few commands, and began bringing the team’s mobile processor on-line.
Having followed the group inside, Lionel couldn’t help himself. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but who do you guys work for? That dick-head Gill or …”
Simon interjected: “Mr. Decker, this is my brother, Lionel. Inspector Hansen is with the RCMP.”
Decker’s tone transitioned to one of reassurance. “Let’s just say, Lionel, that we’re loyal to the logo on our paycheque. Nothing more, nothing less.”
Connor silently evaluated each man in the room. He stared at Lionel for a moment, trying to get a fix on him, before turning his attention to Simon. “Mr. Taylor, we were briefed on your situation en-route. Our system is interface-capable with yours, so if you like I can provide Sophia with a visual feed. This will allow you to watch a real-time holographic representation of the search process.”
Decker realized it was time to explain. “Mr. Taylor, I’m not sure what your expectations are at this point so let me bring you up to speed.” While carefully skirting the perception of taking charge, Decker politely gestured for Simon to move closer to his partner’s improvised workstation. “I assume you are familiar with most of Gen Tech’s gear?”
“With what I’ve seen,” Simon replied.
“Well, before Sophia steps in to fill in the blanks, maybe I should acquaint you what is presently being deployed on your behalf. Have we got 3D capability yet?”
“There we go,” Connor stated. With outstretched hands he sat back in his chair. He was surprised to find his computer being taken over. “Hello, Sophia,” he said, sarcastically, as Sophia assumed control.
The full complement of programming scrolled down Connor’s laptop screen. In less than a dozen seconds, Sophia assimilated the new software into her own operating system. “Please direct your attention,” she said, “to the holographic renditions of available equipment.”
Simon and Lionel were the first to move closer to the pool table. Above it, unorganized, rotating points of light began to consolidate into an object.
“Is that what I think it is?” Lionel asked.
“Buteo Platypterus, the Broad-winged Hawk,” Sophia stated. An image of the relatively small raptor rotated in front of the men. A three-dimensional line drawing morphed into a life-like version. Its wings spread out and then tucked themselves back in. “A forty centimetre body size and one metre wing span allow this mechanical replica to soar at heights of one-thousand metres, giving it a wide panorama of surveillance capability.” The holographic bird then took off and ascended into the sky. It offered a theoretical visual of the ground below.
“It’s a drone?” Inspector Hansen asked.
“It is, gentlemen,” Decker replied. “And an expert bird-watcher would have trouble distinguishing it from its organic equivalent. Sims, our boat captain, has four onboard. Once we’ve established our search baseline, each will be deployed along the north and south shorelines. They have a four-hour fight capability and will support their counterparts in east and west directions.
“Their counterparts?” Lionel asked.
Sophia quickly changed the object displayed in front of them. “The Aglaius Phoeniceus, or Red Winged Blackbird,” she stated, “will be supported by the Common Grackle and European Starling.” As each bird was in turn rotated a full 360 degrees, the fowls’ eyes focused in and out, mimicking the aperture of an HD camera.
Decker noticed Lionel subtly shaking his head. “I’ll be damned. They’re all drones.”
“I’ve seen enough,” Simon stated. “When can we begin?”