Jintao Read online

  Sitting up abruptly, Quan commanded the house to project a four-by-three-meter view field. He gave it search parameters: California, coastal land for sale or lease. The system instantly displayed a list of twenty-two parcels.

  “What’s the climate like there?” asked Sealy.

  Quan opened a sidebar and said, “Dry and warm.”

  “And what’s that?” Sealy pointed at a pair of huge domes sitting alongside the ocean.

  “It’s called San Onofre. It’s an abandoned nuclear site. Too exposed . . . and too close to that military base,” he said, pointing to Camp Pendleton. “We need something more remote.” His hand began directing the view field north, up the coast, past Los Angeles, past Santa Barbara.

  Ning entered with tea, setting cups on the table. After pouring, she looked up and said, “California: birthplace of the internet, the GUI, and the neural CPU.”

  “Are you online?” asked Sealy.

  “Yes,” said Ning. “There are over sixty million facts concerning California. Shall I list them?”

  “Thank you, no,” said Sealy. “That’ll be all.”

  Quan was on autopilot. He launched a second view field and initiated another search, looking into the policies of the USDOE, the NRC, and the California Nuclear Commission. There were clear guidelines for what he intended to build. Independent research laboratories were allowed to have small, sealed reactors, SSTAR units they were called, and they could be installed with very little oversight. He quickly pulled up construction requirements: a concrete vault, air filtration, cooling systems, alarm systems, backup systems. Easier than he expected.

  Sealy was transfixed by the speed and ease with which he moved through the documents.

  Minimizing the NRC specs, he opened a window into the Jintao Corporation database. Hurtling down lists of documents, he came to files concerning the future Kau Yi Chau power station. Opening the original government contract, he highlighted a section of the covenants.

  “Under the maintenance terms, if any component was found to be defective, it is the responsibility of Jintao Corporation to remove and replace it.”

  He closed the file, turned to her, and said, “If the reactor is deemed defective, it can be sold as scrap.”

  “I’m not sure I follow,” said Sealy.

  “There’s a lesson in the Tao: The more one acts in harmony with the universe, the more one will achieve, and with less effort. The reactor has been modified. We can’t leave it and it will draw attention if we try to export it. I found a way to dispose of it legally.”

  He returned to the review of coastal properties, zipping through satellite images, geo-seismic data, and plat maps.

  “These properties are for sale. Are you thinking of buying? How will you pay for it?”

  “I’ll access the family trust,” said Quan. Bringing up one brochure after another, at last he said, “This is the one.”

  She read the description and said, “It’s over thirty hectares. Do you need that much land?”

  “In a couple of years, the work we’re doing will grow into something much bigger. Besides, it’s a good value and it’s remote.”

  “Something bigger?” she echoed. “What do you have in mind?”

  “What we’ve stumbled onto has huge potential. It could change everything.”

  “What do you mean by ‘a couple of years’? How long would we be there?”

  “Long enough to make sure the facility is running well. It shouldn’t be too long.”

  Quan had brought up a list of attorneys prequalified by Jintao Corporation. He highlighted a San Francisco firm: Dempsey, Cheng & Pierce LLP, lawyers the corporation used for international mergers and acquisitions in the United States. Without delay he checked the time and directed a call to one of the senior partners and left a message. He wanted a charter drafted for incorporation of a new research facility: the Brane Research Center for Quantum Physics. Under the newly formed corporation, the attorneys were authorized to purchase the land for the asking price with no contingencies.

  Sealy didn’t know what to say. Life was taking unexpected turns and things were moving fast. What she envisioned, a trip for lovers to a scenic destination, was turning into a massively complex project.

  “This isn’t going to be a vacation. Seems like you’re going to be just as busy as you are here, if not more so. Maybe I should just stay here. What do you think?”

  “I don’t want us to be separated, but at first it will probably make sense—setting everything up. I would hope not more than a month.”

  Just then, Lotus burst into the room like a bolt of energy. “Hey guys. You’re up early.”

  Quan immediately brought the LÓNG website to the fore, obscuring three sensitive documents.

  Looking around at the floating documents, Lotus said, “Hey, what’s all this?”

  Sealy pushed herself up from the cushions, turned ninety degrees, and pulled her legs underneath her. “We’re were just looking at a possible trip,” she said, gesturing to the simulated coastline. An orange glow was forming on the cliffs.

  “What’s up? A vacation?”

  “California looks like a place we’d like,” said Sealy.

  Lotus spotted the LÓNG website and said, “Isn’t that orbital! That’s the site everybody’s chirping about.”

  “Really? What is it?” asked Sealy.

  “All kinds of rumors. Some people think it’s genius. Others think it’s just nonsense. I think it’s the beginning of an ad campaign. You know—like a puzzle. They give you clues and when you’ve got all the pieces, it turns out to be an ad for vodka or something. Anyway, it’ll really make you think . . . lots of interesting stuff in there.” She turned around, fluffed her hair, and headed for the guest wing. “I’m for a shower. Then, I want to hear all about your trip.”

  26.

  Three days later, in the cold subterranean lab, Quan stood behind a metal folding chair with his hands resting on its curved backrest. Von Ang in his white lab coat and McGowen in his usual turtleneck, listened as Quan put forth his relocation plan. It would be difficult, but it was necessary.

  Quan’s resolve hardened as he spoke. “The work we’re doing is important and ultimately we’ll want to share it with the rest of the world; however, we need to protect it until we’re ready to publish. We’ve been sneaking and hiding and that can’t go on. The best way forward is to move the project to a place where we can work without interference. I’ve secured a place. It’s close to several major research centers, yet remote enough so that no one will bother us. It’s several thousand kilometers from here and it lacks infrastructure. We’ll have to build what we need. I know I’m asking a lot of you—relocating for the sake of this project—but I’ll make sure you have your current salary plus all expenses. I need you both. What do you say?”

  Von Ang was first to speak. “I can tell you right now I am committed to continuing the research. Here or there is the same to me. I am away from home either way.”

  “How long would I be gone?” asked McGowen.

  “It could be a few months or a few years. Your guess is as good as mine. I understand this is a difficult decision. It goes without saying that, if you do go, you’d be free to return at any time, but I’d like at least a six-month commitment.”

  “I get that we’ll be somewhere other than China,” said McGowen. “Exactly where would we be?”

  “The reasons for the move are security and freedom to operate. The United States can give us both.”

  “Can you be more specific?” asked von Ang.

  “California,” replied Quan.

  “As long as you can square things with corporate,” said McGowen, “I’m in.”

  “I’ll take care of that,” said Quan. “Of course, we’ll all need visas, but that shouldn’t be a problem. Incidentally, did you talk to Wei?”

  “Yep,” said McGowen. “He feels fine—no unusual side effects. We talked for half an hour. Says he’s available anytime we need him.” />
  “What about Dr. Lee?” asked von Ang. “Will she go along with us?”

  “No. She won’t be coming.”

  Dr. Lee’s absence was conspicuous. “Lee was our bioscience expert,” said McGowen. “How are you going to replace her?”

  “We’ll get whatever and whomever we need,” said Quan.

  Quan figured that someone must have tipped off the Central Science Committee and he suspected Diayu Lee. She was a government pensioner and was opposed to human trials from the start. Her decision to stay behind reinforced his suspicion.

  “Without her, how will we obtain the molecular scans we need?” asked von Ang.

  “We’ll buy a scanner,” Quan said bluntly. “I’d like you to look into that.”

  “It’s going to be extremely expensive,” said von Ang.

  “And we’ll buy a new reactor, a SSTAR unit. We’ll dispose of this one.”

  “It’ll mean redesign of the system and it’ll take time to integrate the sub-systems.”

  “I’m confident you’ll take care of that. And I need you to oversee the disassembly here.”

  McGowen observed Quan with interest. Quan’s self-confidence was in full bloom, but there was something new. There was an aggressive energy and a decisiveness that hadn’t been there before.

  ~~~

  The following day, at a bench in the underground lab, Von Ang was reviewing the transfer data and post-transfer interviews. There were two who had gone across, Quan and Wei, and by all accounts they hadn’t suffered any physical setbacks. Of special interest to him was their account of having normal thought processes in the other dimension. Brain electrochemistry seemed to be behaving normally. Their alpha waves were slightly higher than normal—not a serious concern, but something to watch over time.

  Von Ang was watching the vidi of Quan’s second interview when McGowen stepped out of the darkness carrying a toolbox.

  “So, how’s our resident agnostic today?” McGowen snarked.

  Von Ang paused the view field and looked up. “Agnostic? Yes, I suppose so. And you believe the Braneworld is what? A spirit world?”

  “We’re just a bunch of particles in there, but evidently we’re still who we are. Doesn’t that tell you something? Isn’t that proof we’re more than just physical?”

  “The brain is an organic computer. Apparently, it can operate in those conditions. I may not understand how, but that doesn’t prove we’re anything more than physical.”

  “Come now, doc. Don’t dodge the obvious. Trust your instincts. Organs and limbs don’t make a person. What do you think holds it all together.”

  “There are more plausible explanations. Evolution may have been at work in all dimensions at the same time. The Braneworld is just be another aspect of the physical world.”

  McGowen put a large hand on von Ang’s shoulder and said, “Ahhh, you need to open up a bit.” He squeezed von Ang’s shoulder a bit harder. “Look beyond this piece of meat you call home.”

  “Must I remind you? I’m a scientist. I don’t jump to conclusions.”

  “I’ll bet if you took a trip to the other side it would turn your head around,” said McGowen, setting down his toolbox. “Anyhow, I’m here to take this baby apart.”

  “Not just yet,” said von Ang, standing up. He took off his lab coat and trousers, revealing a black skinsuit underneath.

  Surprised, McGowen lit up. “As I live and breathe. You’re going to do it, aren’t ya. Well, I’ll be. Good for you. Like I said, it might turn your head around.”

  Von Ang had weighed the pros and cons of subjecting himself to the machine. He could stay safely in the laboratory, removed from the direct experience, using surrogates, in the way an earthbound scientist might use robots to carry out experiments on a distant planet. Or he could see it directly with his own eyes. While data acquired from his sophisticated instruments was certainly more valuable than the subjective input from eyes and ears, he had an overriding desire to be part of this newly formed club of adventurers. Whether he was aware of it or not, he found himself compelled beyond reason to be one of the boys.

  Fastening an instrument onto his belt, he said, “This is the last chance I’ll have before we disassemble the machine. If you will assist me, I only need five minutes.”

  “Be glad to, on one condition,” said McGowen stepping up to the control panel.

  “What condition?”

  “You can do the same for me,” said McGowen.

  “Alright. Let’s get on with it.”

  Von Ang showed McGowen what to do and, moments later, he was gone.

  Stepping away from the mesh, he looks around at the turbulent mix of suspended particles. It’s as others described—a seething sandstorm. He wastes no time. Unclipping the first instrument, he extends his arm and pulls the trigger. A radar pulse is sent into the mist. Nothing returns. He aims at the floor and pulses again . . . still no echo. He turns the gain to maximum and shortens the wavelength . . . still nothing . . . nothing that will reflect the signal. He reattaches the instrument and unclips another, a pulse generator. Going down on one knee, he pauses for a moment, listening to faint rumbles and intermittent hisses.

  Refocusing on the task at hand, he sets the device on end and pivots its antenna into an upright position. His hand is cloaked in a corona of white porcupine quills. He rotates his wrist, studying the effect for a moment, then stands up. Unclipping a small handheld device, he moves its slide selector into the first position, waiting for a signal to be received from the transmitter. Nothing. He moves the selector to the next position, tries again, then another and another. There it is, the signal is received, only a millisecond pulse of gamma emission, but enough. He retrieves the pulse generator, reclips the instruments, and remounts the mesh.

  Lying there, waiting for the system to time out, he studies the air above him. Fascinating shapes are forming, dissolving, and re-forming again. They don’t seem to be random. Lines form into a large triangle, then fade away. Three small glowing dots persist where the apexes were persist. Fragments of a grid appear, rippling like graph paper on the surface of a wave. He tries to discern what’s on the grid but it vanishes before he can read it.

  As he dismounted from the mesh, von Ang was exuberant. “Excellent. We have short-range gamma transmission!” He unclipped the instruments and placed them in a metal case.

  “You need to be checked,” said McGowen.

  Von Ang lay down at the medi-bot system and the exam was completed within minutes. They returned to the reactor and McGowen said, “Okay. Now it’s my turn.”

  “You need to have scan data.”

  “Way ahead of you, squire.” McGowen pulled a tiny black stick from his pocket and handed it over. “Dr. Lee did mine when she did Quan.”

  “You’ll need a skinsuit.”

  “Nope,” said McGowen removing his trousers. “I wasn’t scanned with a skinsuit—just my birthday suit.”

  The big Scot tossed his clothes onto a chair and climbed onto the mesh.

  Von Ang laughed, seeing McGowen lying there naked.

  The frame creaked under McGowen’s weight as he turned to look at von Ang. “Piss off. Now be a good boy and give me five minutes.”

  Von Ang stepped up to the control panel and said, “All right. Five minutes. Stay put.” He loaded McGowen’s scan data and the countdown began.

  In the wink of an eye, McGowen was transported.

  Sparkling waves of dust move past him. Here and there the drifts thin out and he can see the dark figure of von Ang. Subtle outlines of equipment flicker in the distance. Sitting up, McGowen sees shimmering clouds moving across the landscape. Looking down he sees his legs covered in white bristles. His hand brushes across, trying to feel his legs, but there is no feeling. A gust of particles appears and floats right through him.

  This is a totally foreign landscape—like being in a vat of boiling sand.

  There’s something far away moving toward him. Strange, the way it moves, like som
ething passing through space and time, lurching from place to place. It’s headed straight toward him.

  Apprehensive, McGowen gets off of the mesh and crouches down. He peers into the blizzard. Whatever it is, it’s close now, very close. His eyes search the mist but he can’t make it out what it is. It circles around him and he prepares to defend himself. Suddenly there’s an unexpected warmth surrounding him. It’s startling. He thrusts his arm in the direction of the warmth. Nothing there, only drifting dust. Then there’s a smell. He inhales. It’s a smell he recognizes, bringing back distant memories. He inhales again. Druamor is what it is, that rare and unmistakable scent. It’s what she wore. A subconscious desire fills him. Peering into the mist. Something touches him again. He flinches. On his cheek, the warmth persists. A kiss.

  Now there is warmth against his chest, around his shoulders. He can feel her now. She’s embracing him.

  “Maggie . . . Maggie is it you? Can you hear me?”

  There’s no answer, only the warmth.

  “Oh, I’ve missed you darling,” he says softly.

  He sits down on the edge of the mesh, bowing his head with the warmth surrounding him, comforting him.

  A voice comes in his head. [We are one.]

  His damp eyes close.

  “Aye, my bonnie lass. That we are . . . and shall ever be.”

  After a few minutes, McGowen was back, lying on the mesh, not moving.

  “Are you okay?” asked von Ang.

  McGowen lay there, staring blankly at the ceiling, a broad smile on his face. He looked up at von Ang.

  “I didn’t want to leave,” he said. “Hadn’t expected to feel that. My God. What a life changing experience. Can’t you just . . . I want to go back.”

  “So do I, but we’ll have to wait. Quan wants the equipment out of here tonight.”

  The framework creaked as McGowen rolled to his feet, dutifully walking toward the medi-bot station.

  Von Ang crossed the room with him. “Tell me your impressions.”

  “You saw it. Just stour everywhere.” He lay still on the gurney while stainless steel arms swept over him. “Although I did feel something unusual. Felt like something I lost a long time ago.”