Jintao Page 6

  He felt in his coat pocket for coins to give the poor woman, but he had none.

  Straightening, Quan said, “Sorry. No thank you,” and sailed around her.

  In his pocket, was only the thin plastic card McGowen had given him and the rabbit’s foot, nothing of value to others but precious to him. In other big cities like London, he would have worried about pickpockets, but here, there was little to be concerned about. Street crime was rare in New Hong Kong. The Triads and the Tongs had withdrawn after their bosses turned to white-collar crime, and the gangs made it understood that any of their members who drew attention would be punished severely. In exchange for their brutal self-management, local police had agreed to turn a blind eye to the clandestine bordellos, gambling rooms, opium dens and other forms of victimless crimes.

  Stepping out of the procession, Quan turned into a service alley down the side of the Jintao building. Passing a loading dock, he stopped next to a stout xynite support column towering twenty stories into the crisp blue sky. Behind him, pedestrians were streaming past in a steady blur. Damp filled his nostrils, and he remembered when the columns were framed with nanite caissons. He was a boy then, and the wet xynite slurry poured like an avalanche from an overhead boom while the nanites climbed higher and higher, linking together, forming a mold for the xynite. He watched in awe as an anonymous bystander.

  Inside his pocket, Quan felt for the plastic card and oriented his finger to its contours. The card was the length of an index finger with three small ridges running across its face and a rubberized pad at one end. He fitted his first digit against the U-shaped pad and his biosignature instantly transmitted. In the shadows, next to the giant column, a panel clicked and slid back. Stepping inside, the panel clicked shut and a series of overhead lights switched on revealing a tunnel. It was a secret route, to be used in an emergency evacuation. As an entry, it was a way he could avoid the lobby and the endless exchange of greetings.

  His footsteps reverberated down the tunnel and lights switched off behind him. At last he came to a maintenance room at the core of the building. He was in his teens the last time he had come this way. Generators and racks of electronics were humming and the room smelled of synthetic oil. Doors of a service elevator opened and a synthesized voice announced, “Quan Jintao. Floor, please.”

  Entering he said, “Ten,” and the steel doors shut.

  Inside his father’s lab, he sat at the workbench and dove back into the rabbit hole. The next folder contained a vidi of the survey crew in their EVA suits with mag-boots holding them to the reactor platform. Walking appeared to be difficult and the handheld vidi jolted with each step. Behind them, Earth’s oceans shone brightly—a gigantic blue curve dappled with white clouds.

  One of the crew gestured to the antenna array. The dish faded in and out of view. A power meter was held up and someone said, “We shouldn’t go any closer. Energy is leaking. Need to shut down for repairs.”

  Quan played the vidi clip several times, uncertain about what he was seeing. The antenna dish in the background seemed to distort, then correct, disappearing and reappearing. Perhaps the camera lens was automatically readjusting focus, changing depth of field. Or maybe glare from something out of frame was washing out the image.

  Leafing through another folder, he came across a report from the second crew—a couple of engineers who were there to diagnose and repair the reactor. Testing and gathering data, they posted the live, dynamic values in a sidebar at the edge of the screen and linked them to a three-dimensional spreadsheet. Quan looked back and forth between the ever-changing numbers and the underlying equations. It was clear to him that several components were running beyond their safety ratings. Electromagnetic waves were generating harmonics in several frequencies—fascinating to watch, but potentially dangerous. Concluding that many of the subsystems were damaged, the engineers recommended decommissioning the station altogether.

  Moving on to the next folder, Quan saw hand sketches, annotated with calculations and notes. The sketches depicted a reactor with several different subsystems and the word “Control” connected with arrows to three of the components. On another page, he found a sketch of a magnetic wave generator that had been revised several times.

  Without fully understanding what the sketches meant, Quan went to the next folder. There he found a CAD file of a very dense machine design. Modeled in 3-D, the machine was annotated with links to schematics and parts lists. Puzzled, Quan settled back in his chair, running his fingers across the top of his head.

  Is this Father’s work? What was he doing? Trying to redesign the power station?

  The calculations were beyond anything he encountered in his most advanced physics classes. There were symbols for leptons and gluons, quarks and bosons, acted on by harmonic energies.

  Can’t be Father’s work. His hands-on engineering work ended ages ago.

  Exhausted, Quan went back out onto the street and walked for a while. He had a lot to think about. Surrounded by throngs of people, he once again became one with the crowd. Walking down side streets, he looked in the windows of shops, stopping for a while to watch a robot cobbler repairing shoes. Twenty minutes later he returned to Victoria Road and to the Jintao building.

  Back again inside his father’s space, he tried to understand the purpose of the machine design. He flipped back and forth between the notes, drawings, and equations, and watched the vidi clips again. He followed the logical train of thought, from the measurements gathered at the reactor to the mathematical analysis and the complex machine design. After two more hours of immersion, he needed another break.

  He walked around the lab and stretched. Bending sideways at the waist, he noticed something in the back corner of the lab. Behind a mobile oscilloscope, an unusual assembly sat on top of a three-wheeled dolly. He recognized the shape, from one of the sketches in the files. It was waist high and spherical, with several devices attached to its outer wall. With feet firmly planted, he struggled to pull it out into the open. By alternating his pull, first right, then left, he was able to lug the heavy object into the light.

  Curious about what was inside, he looked around the room for tools. From a multi-drawered crib he selected a handful of different tools. Using an adjustable wrench he removed one of the attached devices. Turning it over in his hand, it looked like a power coil. He set it down. Next, with a socket he undid a cover plate. With his cheek pressed to the curved surface of the orb and a small penlight against his other cheek, he looked inside. There were studs welded to the interior wall where something had once been attached and there was an electrical connector dangling from the ceiling. Whatever had been in there was gone and he felt robbed.

  What is this? Some sort of test fixture?

  Maybe it was used to analyze the orbiting power station. Or maybe it was unrelated. Quan went back to the view field, skimming through the files until he found a sketch that resembled the sphere. Indeed, it showed another component within it’s walls. From the look of it, it appeared to be a generator of some kind. The related cells on the spreadsheet indicated that it would generate non-linear harmonic energys. This presented a quandary. Harmonic frequencies in the power grid were a frequent cause of power quality problems. Why would someone design a device that would create them.

  Quan continued on, trying to understand what his father had found so intriguing. After another hour he came again to the last sentence:

  MUST SEE WITH MY OWN EYES

  It was past the end of the corporate workday and Quan needed McGowen, if he was still in the building. He accessed the com center and was attended by the on-duty avatar that relayed the call to McGowen’s extension.

  “McGowen here.”

  “It’s Quan and I’ve finished going through the files.”

  “Find anything useful?”

  “There’s a lot that I don’t understand. It’d be good to have your eyes on it.”

  “I’ve delegated most of my workload so I’m free to give you whatever
help you need.”

  “I have to admit, the science and engineering in his files is over my head and there aren’t any notes to explain what he was doing. I did, however, find mention of two people who may have worked on this project—someone called Dr. von Ang and someone named Diayu Lee. They may be able to explain what he was doing and where he might have gone. See if you can find them and schedule separate meetings.”

  “I’ll get started on it.”

  “And don’t say anything about the files we found. There’s probably a reason father wanted this kept private. For now anyway, it’s just between you and me.”

  “Roger that.”

  7.

  McGowen found Gaston von Ang’s name in the company’s directory of qualified consultants, and twenty hours later the pale young man was standing in Quan’s outer office. He was tall and thin with sandy brown hair cut straight across the shoulders of his black WAN-suit. The suit was a micro-tailored European cut, highlighted with blue piping at every seam. On top of each shoulder, the blue line became a complicated pattern, overlaying the suit’s embedded antennas. He stood still, with hands clasped behind him, speaking instructions to a distant mainframe, while a tiny projector sent a stream of data to his retina.

  A live image of the young scientist floated in the corner of Quan’s view field while he read the man’s credentials: dual degrees . . . particle physics and nano-electronics . . . top of his class . . . PhD from the Sorbonne . . . advanced research at CERN . . . long list of corporate consulting jobs . . . Swiss national . . . third-generation physicist . . . nineteen published papers . . . consulted with Jintao Space on four projects.

  Quan swept the information aside and pinged his secretary. She said, “You may go in now.” The door to the inner office clicked and automatically opened.

  Out from behind the desk, Quan went to greet his guest. Shaking hands, he said, “Thank you for coming, Dr. von Ang. I’m Quan Jintao, Master Jintao’s son. Please have a seat.”

  “Yes,” said the scientist as he went to an empty chair on the opposite side of the desk. “I can see the resemblance.”

  “I understand you worked with my father.”

  “We worked together on several occasions.” Von Ang’s eyes lowered for a moment, then looked up. “He is a remarkable man. Is there news of his whereabouts?”

  Quan couldn’t help but notice how straight the man sat in his chair, and how his cold blue eyes seemed to pierce him with a penetrating gaze. It was as though von Ang was acutely aware of Quan’s thoughts, even before he was.

  “His disappearance is still unsolved, and I’m trying to understand what happened. I thought you might be able to bring some light. I understand you worked with him quite recently.”

  Von Ang continued his penetrating stare. “That’s true, and I’ll be glad to answer any questions you have.”

  “Did the police contact you?”

  “Not yet, but I was questioned by your corporate security.”

  “What did you tell them?”

  “Only that I worked as a consultant several months earlier and have no idea where he may be.”

  “I wish to ask about the last project you worked on with my father.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Were you working under a nondisclosure agreement?”

  “Yes, as always. However, the last agreement was somewhat different. It excluded the corporation and restricted disclosure solely to the Jintao family. Your father said it was a precaution; in the event the company was to change hands—the work would remain with the family. With respect, you and I can talk about things I cannot talk about with anyone else.”

  “I see,” said Quan, wondering why his father would be concerned about the company changing hands. “I’ve read my father’s notes concerning the orbital power station and I’ve seen designs for some sort of machine.”

  “Three,” said von Ang, solemnly.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Three different machines. Prototypes.”

  “Prototypes? Of what?”

  “At first, we were trying to re-create the power station anomaly to better understand the phenomenon. We built a simulator in his laboratory. It was one-tenth scale and it failed to generate the conditions—probably because of its size. Next, we built a full-sized version and added a plasma generator to simulate solar wind. We regulated the energy levels, trying to replicate the original conditions, but the results were intermittent, unpredictable. We tried different control methods, but the system wouldn’t stabilize. Then we started over. Cannibalizing the second prototype, we used some of the parts to build a third, more complex machine. We added a pulse generator, enhanced the wave guides, and added subsystem controllers. Lastly, we installed a machine learning system to adjust the harmonics. It took several months but eventually we were able to reproduce the same phenomenon first observed at the orbital reactor.”

  “All of this was done by just the two of you? Did you design the control systems?”

  “Yes, and yes.”

  “Impressive. But why? Why go through all of that to re-create a malfunction?”

  Von Ang turned his head toward the window, staring at the faraway clouds. “It was a science experiment to see if the anomaly might be related to quantum flux.”

  “I saw references to quantum physics in the files that I didn’t fully understand. Please explain.”

  Von Ang hesitated, collecting his thoughts, simplifying his explanation to a level of complexity that a graduate engineer would understand. He began with the basics, the well-documented evidence of subatomic particles vibrating in and out of existence.

  “I’ve always found it fascinating that particles are intermittent, sometimes here, sometimes not. Decades ago, the Russian physicist Ivan Krakinov put forth the idea that subatomic particles move between our 3-D world and a state where there are additional dimensions. Mathematically, it fits perfectly, but no one has ever been able to prove the theory. Your father believed the disappearing antenna might be the result of particles somehow being forced out of three-dimensional space, not just for pico-seconds, but for extended periods of time. If we could build a device that reproduced those energies, it would not only be a monumental breakthrough in science, but also would also have huge commercial value. To my surprise, we succeeded and the machine was able to render objects invisible for as long as we applied the energies. When the energies were turned off, the objects reappeared. Quite amazing.”

  “That is amazing indeed,” said Quan. “So, the machine actually pushes matter into higher-dimensional space?”

  “That’s one possible explanation; of course, there may be others. What we observed was an effect. The cause is not so clear. More experimentation is needed.”

  Quan rolled a stylus back and forth on the desktop, considering the importance of what he had just learned. The reason his father kept this project out of the company’s reach was becoming apparent. This was more than a science project. Probing deeper, Quan asked, “How was all of this work done without company involvement? And where did the resources come from?”

  “Your father was very resourceful. I never questioned his methods. I was told to hire different fabricators to make each subsystem and none of them were told what the parts were for. We did the final assembly ourselves with robotic assistance.”

  “Where? Where is the working prototype?”

  Von Ang got up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling glass wall of the Jintao tower. His hands clasped behind him and he nodded toward the open sea. “On the other side of Kau Yi Chau Island.”

  Kau Yi Chau Island—a kilometer-long outcropping of rock in the middle of Victoria Harbour; uninhabited; designated as the site for a future power terminus to be built by the Jintao Corporation. Two massive unfinished buildings stood there vacant—the scheduled completion date still years away.

  “You were asked about this by Jintao security?”

  “No. And if they had, I was not authorized to tell them,” said von A
ng.

  Quan reined himself away from the premature conclusion that his father was there, on that island. Someone must have gone there by now . . . looked for him . . . discovered the machine.

  “The machine must have been brought there in pieces,” Quan mused. “But never mind that. Tell me what happened next. After building the third machine. Take me through it—step by step.”

  “As I said, it was just the two of us. I’ve known projects that have languished for years through trial and error, without success—regardless of the size of the team. We were lucky. After relatively few adjustments, the machine produced the desired result and, in less than a year, the effect was stable and we began to investigate the anomaly. First, we experimented with recording devices. They were pushed out of visual range and then returned. Unfortunately, no data was recorded. Then we tried different chemistries. They also came back without effect. There were thousands of things we could try but we had no clear-cut strategy going forward. Realizing this, your father curtailed my participation.

  The experiments have profound implications and they should be continued. If the Krakinov hypothesis is proven to be correct, it would take us beyond the theoretical; teach us something new about the exchange of matter and energy. It would be a major stepping-stone. On the other hand, if the energies were simply cloaking matter somehow, it could teach us about other aspects of nature we have yet to understand.”