Smashwords Edition
Great Read
Wow!
You will begin this book and not want to put it down until you get to
the last page. Thomas Roberts has created a mesmerizing novel that
had me questioning, wondering and... Read more at:
http://www.amazon.com/Five-Law-Unintended-Consequences/dp/1442126418
An exciting science fiction thriller.
The
Five is an intense page turner that pulls the reader in and doesn't
let go. The Neuraldine Corporation tries to enhance the lives of 5
babies (dubbed "The Five") through a... Read more at:
http://www.amazon.com/Five-Law-Unintended-Consequences/dp/1442126418
This Would Make a Great Movie!!
I
typically do not enjoy anything related to science fiction, but "The
Five" has swayed me. It is not your ordinary science fiction
thriller as I felt personally involved in the... Read
more at:
http://www.amazon.com/Five-Law-Unintended-Consequences/dp/1442126418
More reviews of The Five can found at http://www.fivethebook.com
The Five
By
Thomas Roberts
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidence are products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.
The Cover Image provided as a Photo courtesy of the United States Energy Department.
Copyright © 2009 by Thomas P. Roberts
http://www.fivethebook.com
Smashwords Edition
To Sandy, my extremely tolerant and lovely wife.
Also to Bobby and Skip Cox, Dawn and Bryan,
Trish, Robby and Lisa
and my six grandchildren:
Morgun, Colton, Hunter,
Lexi, Laney
and
Thomas P. Roberts III
Also
A very special thanks to Mark Corker and Smashwords. Mark is a man that says what he will do and does what he says.
Chapter 1 Project Five
“The future is not a result of choices among alternative paths offered by the present, but a place that is created--created first in the mind and will, created next in activity. The future is not some place we are going to, but one we are creating.”
John Schaar
Friday June 5, 2020
It's late afternoon and the sun is reflecting crimson and purple hues off the jagged mountain peaks. Far below, echoing sounds of men scampering and vehicles racing. Above, an eagle cries out against the coming nightfall. The soothing sounds of rushing water from a surging creek or waterfall. The soft sound of wind caressing the tall elegant pine trees as they sway to the slow rhythm.
Kneeling on a precipitous rock ledge, high up a sheer cliff that sloped downward at a sharp angle, Zane could not see the activity of the men and vehicles below. The height allowed a view of the canyon's immense pine forest that stretched for miles, rendering Zane with the feeling of being inconsequential.
The two men climbing behind Abby are gaining ground. Zane stretched his arm downward, nervously wiggling the fingers of his gloved hand.
“Hurry up, come on, damn it Abby, hurry,” said Zane.
“I’m trying; here give me your hand.”
Tiny beads of sweat glistened on her upper lip as she stretched her hand out to Zane. Just as their fingers touched, he saw his wife jerked violently downwards by one of the bounty hunters who grabbed her by the ankle and yanked. Her chin struck the granite ledge as she careened backwards. She screamed “Zane” and then plummeted to the rocks, sixty feet below. Zane leaned over and saw her body. Arranged in a contorted mass, he saw Abby’s arms and legs posed in an impossible and sickening configuration. A picture clicked in Zane’s mind, a picture that would be the source of many nightmares for years to come. Zane stepped back a few feet, out of sight of the bounty hunters. The sight of Abby brought him into a collective state of shock and anger.
The bounty hunter grunted and smiled as he scrambled upwards towards Zane. Zane stepped forward and waited until he was staring into the man’s dark dead eyes. When the bounty hunter started to crest the top of the ledge, Zane took another step forward and shot his foot out, side kicking the man in the face. The fury of the kick snapped the man’s head back. He slid down a few feet but then, like an automaton; he continued to struggle back up the rock face. Zane stepped back, out of sight again and waited.
“Daddy, I’m scared,” screamed the boy.
“Stay back Jimmy,” Zane yelled, his face contorted into a feral mask as he pushed the boy backwards against the large rock wall behind them.
This time, the man climbed to the top of the ledge and stood up. He attempted what Zane thought might be a smile of bravado, however with blood curling down the man’s chin, and with his mouth missing several front teeth from Zane’s kick, the smile failed at its desired effect. The man reached for the holstered pistol and found that during his scrambling and climbing, the holster had swivelled towards the center of his back. As he looked down in search of the handgun, a low growl arose from Zane; he gritted his teeth, took two quick steps forward, and using the bottom of his boot, punch kicked the man in the chest. The man fell backwards, landing on the bounty hunter behind him.
Zane watched as both men, in fierce competition, tried to find balance on the surface of the irregularly shaped rocks, which allowed room for only one.
“Shit,” screeched the man Zane had kicked, as he lost his grip and fell the way of Abby. A heavy wet sound, like a watermelon on concrete as the body struck the rocks below.
Zane reached down and picked up two rocks, each the size of a softball. He drew back his arm and with careful aim, he threw the first. The rock struck the second bounty hunter directly in the face. A splatter of blood and tissue sprayed outward, covering the rock surface. Zane could see that the rock had crushed the man’s nose and ripped a small tear into his left cheek. As Zane drew back his arm to throw the second rock, the man yelled “no,” and in a defensive effort, he turned his face and body away from the impending impact. Zane watched as the man lost his grip on the rock that had served to hold him in place. He attempted to grab the rock where his hand had been previously, but his hands found only a bloody wet and slippery rock surface. This time there was a bone crunching sound, like dry kindling wood breaking, as the man hit a ledge, bounced off, and continued downward.
Zane turned and knelt down, as Jimmy ran to him. He clutched his son and they began to weep together for the loss of a mother and wife.
Zane heard men’s echoing voices far below, and saw the rocks above them dimly painted with light from flashlights.
“We got one of them.” Someone yelled.
“Whew man, would you look at that shit, the bitch popped like a fucking grape.”
“Don’t matter,” said another voice. “We get paid the same, dead or alive.”
“Where the hell is that chopper?” Someone yelled.
“They’re twenty minutes out,” someone yelled back.
Zane grabbed Jimmy up in his arms and began around a large boulder to their right. There had been lights shining on the boulder seconds before. It was almost completely dark now and Zane knew he had to get Jimmy out of there fast.
Why did he have to go up the cliff first? She could probably have made it, and if she had, she would not be dead now. Not the time, he chastised himself, as the worm of self-doubt tried to eat its way to the core of his brain.
He set Jimmy down and looked at him. The boy was in a daze; he said nothing, staring straight ahead.
“Jimmy,” he said in a hushed voice.
The boy did not answer.
“Jimmy, look at me.”
The boy still did not respond.
“Jimmy, I’ve got to leave you here for a minute.”
Jimmy jerked, and turned his eyes towards Zane.
“No, don’t leave me, please, Daddy, don’t leave me.”
“Ok,” he said to the boy. “Ok, but I have to try and find a way to get us over the top; we’re running out of time.”
“Ok, but please don’t leave me Daddy,” the terrified boy cried.
It had been over a year since Jimmy had called him Daddy. He was “Dad” to his son ever since he had turned nine years old.
“Shhhhh,” he whispered, as he wrapped his arms around the boy.
“Shhhhh,”
Jimmy began to cry into his father’s chest. Trembling, he clutched at Zane trying to wrap his arms around him.
“Listen, we’ve got to get out of here, do you understand? They have a helicopter coming. We have to leave before it gets here, do you understand?” he said with a more stern and demanding tone.
“Yes,” the boy said, nodding his head.
Zane removed his backpack and pulled out a coil of thin nylon rope. Then, he removed his knife from its scabbard. He cut off a ten-foot length of the rope, replacing the coil to the backpack and his knife to its scabbard. Zane tied one end of the rope around Jimmy’s left wrist, making sure the knot was not too tight. The other end he tied around his left wrist.
“How’s this, will this be better?”
Jimmy nodded his head.
“Good,” he whispered.
Zane put on his backpack and in a stoop, he walked forward, followed by Jimmy. Within fifteen minutes, they had reached the top of the dark mountain peak. Zane heard a thunderous whomp-whomp-whomp-whomp sound, turned and looked back at the helicopter below them, shining its powerful spotlight at the face of the mountain where they had been just moments before. Moving cautiously, he led Jimmy down into the darkness below them, not risking the use of his flashlight. A fingernail moon and bright stars faintly lighted the path. Within an hour, they no longer heard the sound of the helicopter. They had reached the tree line twenty minutes before and were now having difficulty due to the darkness under the canopy of the trees. Zane sought out a place to rest and found shelter under a ledge of a rocky outcropping. He placed his hand over the lens of his flashlight, and turned it on. Zane let out only enough light to see what was under the ledge. He sat Jimmy down on a soft grassy area and sat next to him.
“You have to get some sleep Jimmy.”
“I don’t feel much like sleeping.” Jimmy paused. “Dad?”
“Yeah Jimmy.”
“Why didn’t one of us stay behind and let mom go up first?”
Zane paused and thought about the question.
“I didn’t think she could have made it up by herself,” he said to Jimmy as well as to himself. “Also, one of us had to stay behind to help you get to the top of that ledge. Jimmy it is not us that you want to blame, or find fault. It is The Five and those bounty hunters. They are the ones responsible for your mother’s death, not us.”
“Yeah but…”
“There are no buts about it. Get those thoughts out of your mind.”
“Who are the bounty hunters and why did they kill mom?”
“I don’t know for sure who they are. Your mom and I started calling them bounty hunters because they do not look like the FBI or police officers. They just look like, bounty hunters or bad guys.”
“Well, why are the FBI and the police chasing us?”
“I think The Five have a way to control them, or at least some of them,” said Zane.
A few minutes of silence passed and Zane reached into his backpack and pulled out a couple granola bars and two bottles of water. They ate in silence. After Jimmy finished his granola bar, he took a long drink from the bottle of water and replaced the cap. He lay down next to where Zane was sitting and within a few minutes, fell asleep.
Saturday March 17, 2001 St. Patrick’s Day
As Zane replaced the keys into his pocket and turned the knob on the front door, he jerked from the sharp pain in his right elbow, an injury he received from a kick during a sparring session at the gym. The kick had hit a nerve and Zane smiled as he thought about what kind of person would make up a term "Funny Bone.” Zane pushed the door open and found Abby standing in the center of the small foyer; she had her hands behind her back and her face had a look that said, "I know something you don't know.”
Zane could smell something good emanating from the kitchen.
“What's up,” he said with a suspicious smile.
“Oh, nothing,” she said, tickling his curiosity even more.
“Come on Abby, I know that look. What have you been up to?”
“Oh, I've just been on the phone, and then I had to run out and get groceries for dinner.”
“We were going out with Josh and Susan weren’t we?”
“Yeah, but I got this phone call and had to make a change of plans.”
“Ok, I give up, who called?”
“Oh, just someone that wanted to talk about a job. Let me see, what was his name?” Abby placed her left index finger to her temple; eyes closed and chin up, as if in deep thought.
“Let me see, his name was,” she paused, “oh yeah! Devon… Devon Aldine!”
“Are you sure” asked Zane?
“Yep, he even invited himself to dinner. The audacity of this man,” said Abby with a broad grin.
“Devon Aldine?” asked Zane incredulously.
“The one and only,” replied Abby.
“The Neuraldine, Devon Aldine?”
“Zane, he’s going to be here in about one hour. Fortunately, he gave me enough notice to run out and get something for dinner.”
Devon Aldine was the Founder and CEO of Neuraldine. Devon was a pioneer in the field of Artificial Neural Networks, “ANN.” Most people refer to ANN as “Artificial Intelligence.”
Devon Aldine hosted a series of PBS Special Programs on Artificial Intelligence. Using computer graphics, he described his innovations by explaining how the human brain worked. He explained that much is still unknown about how the brain trains itself to process information.
There have been so many different theories; as he started to get a better understanding, he found himself confronted with a lot of confusion and contradiction. Devon stated that he did a lot of research into who was the best authority and decided that Dr. Joseph Rothschild of Harvard University was that authority. Rothschild was a prominent leader in the neurological field.
He was the authority Devon would subsequently rely on to gain understanding of how the brain processed information, not just decision making and memory, but all of the neurological processes. Devon learned that in the human brain, a typical neuron collects signals from others through a host of fine structures called dendrites. The neuron sends out spikes of electrical activity through a long, thin strand known as an axon, which splits into thousands of branches. At the end of each branch, a structure called a synapse converts the activity from the axon into electrical effects that inhibit or excite activity in the connected neurons. When a neuron receives excitatory input that is sufficiently large compared with its inhibitory input, it sends a spike of electrical activity down its axon. Learning occurs by changing the effectiveness of the synapses so that the influence of one neuron on another changes. The key words here are “excite and inhibit.”
A basic artificial neuron has many inputs and one output. The neuron has two modes of operation, the training mode and the using mode. In the training mode, the neuron is taught to fire (or not), for specific input patterns. In the using mode, when the neuron detects a taught input pattern at the input, its associated output becomes the current output. If the input pattern does not belong in the taught list of input patterns, the neuron uses the firing rule to determine whether to fire or not.
The firing rule is an important concept in neural networks and accounts for their high flexibility. A firing rule determines how one calculates whether a neuron should fire for any input pattern. It relates to all the input patterns, not only the ones on which the node was trained. Devon provided a simple firing rule called the Hamming distance technique as an example. Devon explained how firing rules compared the taught set (1) and the untaught set (0). The decision to fire or not is determined by comparing patterns of one group of node characteristics versus others. There were more sophisticated rules, but what Devon was struggling to understand was clustering. The other part of the science of neural networks revolves around the myriad of ways these individual neurons cluster together. This clustering occurs in the human brain in such a way that information is processed in a dynamic, interactive, and self-organizing way. Biological neural networks construct in a three-dimensional world from microscopic components. These neurons seem capable of nearly unrestricted interconnections. That was not the case for existing, man-made networks. Integrated circuits, using ANN technology at that time, were two-dimensional devices with a limited number of layers for interconnection. This physical reality restrained implementation of the types, and scope, of artificial neural networks, especially those implemented in silicon. Devon changed this reality by creating the first Artificial Neural Network algorithm that produced a three-dimensional outcome that worked in harmony with Devon’s Integrated Chip.
Not mentioned in the PBS special, was that Devon went to work for the Intellichip Corporation in their R&D Department. Intellichip accused him of being in violation of his non-compete contract and stealing some of their technology. Intellichip also accused Devon of spending time working on his own 3D Hybrid Poly-Si chip while receiving payment from Intellichip to do the research for them. The lawsuit that ensued ended in favor of Devon Aldine.
Nevertheless, this was just half of the story because the 3D Chip was only functional if he could manipulate and reorganize the neuron clusters. Devon achieved this with a piggyback chip that he named “The Boss.” The Boss Chip, using Devon’s algorithm, programmatically re-dopes the neuron in-vitro via ultraviolet light. Then the Boss reorganizes the neurons into desired clusters. This was a new and different paradigm for ANN. This new revolutionary concept changed an entire industry, and gave birth to The Neuraldine Corporation.
Then, Devon developed the “Lifetime Operating System.” This new type of operating system used Neuraldine’s ANN software. The longer the user operated his computer with this system; the better the system operated for the user because the computer had logical memory and could make decisions based on the knowledge of the user. The benefits were numerous and security problems became nonexistent. When you bought a new computer, you transferred your personalized operating system to the new computer. Computers became a more personal necessity rather than just a tool.
Devon also created a new method of marketing this system. Rather than charge a large upfront cost, he charged a small monthly fee. At first, his critics thought that this marketing scheme would fail. However, within a year, Neuraldine’s market share was ahead of the third largest of the three companies offering operating systems. Within three years, Neuraldine had captured most of the personal computer operating system market and Devon was on his way to being the richest man in the world.
“You need to start getting ready, said Abby. Go take a shower and put on a clean shirt, and wear your herringbone sports coat with that red tie. You know the one, the dark red power tie.”
“Oh, yeah” said Zane as if in a hypnotic state.
“Come on, snap out of it,” yelled Abby.
“Yeah, right, I forgot, what is it you wanted me to do?”
Abby laughed.
“Go take a shower.”
“Right, right... Go take a shower, I’ve got to go and take a shower.” .
Abby laughingly grabbed Zane by the arm and started pulling him towards the bathroom.
Against their parent’s wishes and advice, Zane and Abby had decided to get married in their sophomore year at MIT. Abby was the one that really pushed for it, saying that as partners, they could help each other through the perils and dangers of acquiring a University Degree. Zane was reluctant at first, but the more he thought about it, well, the idea had its good points.
Zane fell in love with Abigail Lee Shriver the first time he laid eyes on her at the University’s Annual Odyssey Ball. His roommate knew Abby’s roommate. When they were introduced, a vague sensuous light passed between them. They spent the remainder of the evening together. Abby was declining dance offers about every five minutes, so they decided to walk outside to the green, a grassy area that separated the MIT Chapel and the Kresge Oval. They sat on a concrete bench and talked for hours. Zane found that Abby was a bright, spontaneous, and determined woman. She had no problem sharing her innermost thoughts. Abby’s black hair was shinning in the moonlight; she had a small genial mouth and sparkling blue eyes. Her skin was almost too perfect, like peach tinted cream. She had a slim wild beauty, and this was repeatedly causing Zane’s pulse to quicken.
Abby suspected that Zane bordered on introversion, unaccustomed to speaking to women and even a bit shy. His light hair was in stark contrast to his deep tan. His wide shouldered rangy body and the way he moved, left her of no doubt of his athletic abilities. Despite his shyness, he carried himself with a physical air of confidence that she was acutely conscious of and found herself watching him with intensity. They were almost complete opposites. Abby later told Zane that it was sometime during their conversations, that she decided she was going to marry him.
Years later, Zane could remember every word spoken between them.
Abby’s parents offered a modest wedding, and they married during the summer break of their sophomore year. Zane’s grades could not have improved because he was already at the top of his class with a four point zero grade average in Computer Sciences. However, it did improve his lifestyle. Zane was happier than he thought possible. Abby, on the other hand, saw her grade point average go up one-half point. Abby’s major was in Psychology. Abby was also as happy as she had ever been. That was two years ago.
Zane was drying off when it dawned on him that “The” Devon Aldine was going to offer him a position at Neuraldine. Then in a few seconds of doubt, he thought, maybe he was just going to offer him something from one of his many small subsidiaries. No, he thought, he would not be coming here in person to offer anything but a position with Neuraldine.
“Right,” he said aloud.
The aroma was unmistakable, Abby was making her famous “Corned Beef and Cabbage” with boiled potatoes and her Irish pub salad. Zane was leaning over tying his shoes when the doorbell rang. He jumped up from the bedroom chair as Abby ran into the bedroom.
“It’s him,” she squeaked.
“I think I will go and get the door,” he said in a feigned attempt at normalcy.
Zane stiffly approached the door as the doorbell rang a second time causing him to jump. He looked back, and Abby held up both hands with fingers crossed. She had the most beautiful smile, he thought. Zane opened the door and before he could say anything, Devon Aldine walked in and grabbed Zane’s right hand and began shaking it.
“Hi, I’m Devon,” he said.
“Hi,” responded Zane, “I’m Zane.”
“I knew that,” said Devon.
“You did?”
“Of course I did, you didn’t think I would fly out here from Colorado, if I didn’t know everything there was to know about you, did you?”
“Well, I guess not,” said Zane. Abby walked over and taking Zane’s arm said,
“Hi. I am Abby, Zane’s wife.”
“I knew that,” replied Devon
“You did?"
There was a pause, and then they all started laughing.
“Sorry,” said Zane, “you’re a bit of a celebrity around here, and I think we are both a little star struck.”
“You can say that again,” said Abby.
Devon Aldine was a tall lean man in his early forties. His features offered nothing you could call distinguished, except for his smile. Devon’s smile was big, sincere, and contagious. He was dressed in a modest pair of gray slacks and a peach colored golf shirt. Devon’s sculptured, brown and slightly sun-bleached hair gave him a youthful appearance. His
skin tone displayed a healthy tan bestowing him with an athletic look.
“Please, said Devon, can we just sit down and chat for a few minutes. I am sure I can convince you that I breathe the same air and eat the same food as you folks do. In fact, I smell something that I do not get to smell very often and that’s home cooking. Zane, you must be a wonderful cook.”
Zane looked at Abby, then back at Devon, and saw just a hint of a smile. Zane laughed.
“I wish.”
“Speaking of smells, I had better go and turn down the Corned Beef, I would just die if I burnt dinner,” said Abby.
“Why don’t we join Abby in the kitchen, they say that the kitchen is the heart of the home,” said Devon.
“Ok, after you,” said Zane, giving a maitre d’ like underhanded wave in the direction of the kitchen. Devon and Zane sat at the table while Abby went to the stove and checked on the corned beef and potatoes. Satisfied that nothing was burning, Abby sat next to Zane.
“How would you both feel about living in Aspen Colorado?” asked Devon.
Abby looked at Zane with a big grin. Zane paused.
“I’ve never been to Colorado, but I hear it’s a nice place.”
Abby nudged her foot against his leg under the table.
“I think I, or should I say we, would love to live in Aspen.”
“Well,” said Devon, “not exactly Aspen, but are you familiar with the Neuraldine facilities outside of Aspen?”
“Yeah, who’s not,” said Zane.
“Well, we have a large number of employees working at those facilities, so Neuraldine, that is to say, I have built Condominiums to accommodate this large community. We have our own private schools, an Infirmary that is better equipped than most hospitals, and we even have a small grocery store and restaurants on the compound.”
“I have had my eye on both of you for quite some time and to be frank, I think you both would be a real asset to Neuraldine. What do you think?”
“Did you say both of us?” inquired Abby not sure she heard right. Zane watched as Abby’s face suddenly lost its color and she shakily looked at him. Zane winked at Abby in hopes that the gesture might substantiate or corroborate what Devon had just said.
“Yes, I did say both of you. We have a particular project that is in desperate need of Zane’s knowledge and background in Artificial Neural Networks, and as it happens, we need a Psychologist for this same project. I would have been here to talk with each of you even if you had not been married. In other words, you both have what I want, based on your own individual merits.”
“Wow!” It took all of Abby’s self-control to keep from jumping up, with her balled fist in the air and yelling “Yeah!”
Zane said nothing but smiled at Abby.
“I don’t need your answers tonight, but I would like to fly you both to our Neuraldine facilities next weekend. What do you say?”
Abby nudged Zane under the table again.
“What time would you like to pick us up?”
Small talk consumed the rest of the evening. Devon had asked Zane how he thought the Red-Sox were going to finish this year, and Zane asked “The Red Who?” They laughed and as the evening wore on, both Zane and Abby found themselves really starting to like Devon.
The following Saturday, Abby and Zane, disembarked the Neuraldine Jet at the Aspen/Pitkin County Airport. A large well-dressed man who identified himself as John their Neuraldine chauffeur immediately approached them. John opened the rear door to the Neuraldine Limousine and held out his hand to assist Abby into the luxurious car. Zane climbed in after Abby and John closed the limo’s door. John drove them through the town of Aspen; they were both expecting to see a much larger town. John told them the town was a lot larger than it appeared and what they were seeing was just the tourist section of the town. The town had a rustic western flavor, and the large snow covered mountains surrounding it made the town seem surreal. Parked cars and people packed the streets. John turned on Hunter Street and showed them the ski lift and Gondola Plaza. He drove out of the city towards a mountain range to the west of Aspen. Fifteen minutes later, John pointed to some huge mountainous peaks.
“Those are the Maroon Bells.”
“What are Maroon Balls?” asked Abby with a grin.
“Maroon Bells,” corrected John with a smile.
“The Maroon Bells are those mountain peaks west of us; they are quite a tourist attraction. There is a lake at the base called the Maroon Lake and people like to take pictures and hike around that area. Devon purchased the Neuraldine property west of the base of the Maroon Bells. There was a big fight with the Forest Service because he found an area just outside of the Federal Reserve that fell under some old land grant his attorneys dug up. He made sure that the Neuraldine property was not visible and did not interfere with the tourist trade. The property sits in a valley and the only way you can see it is if you fly a helicopter over it. The road we are on now is the Maroon Lake Road. The entrance road to Neuraldine is coming up on the right.”
As he said this, John turned onto a paved road that was not much wider than the Limousine. John spoke into a radio handset that neither Zane nor Abby had noticed before.
“I have to make sure there are no vehicles coming down the mountain. As you can see, this is a one lane street,” said John.
Twenty minutes later, they approached a small scenic lake, fed by a creek that came from the base of the Maroon Bells.
“Devon built this lake to duplicate the aesthetic scenery of Maroon Lake. Although it is much smaller, I believe he achieved the effect.”
Zane saw they were coming up to a brick building with a barbed wire fence that ran on both sides and extended as far as he could see. A candy cane colored wooden or plastic swing arm extended across the road. A man dressed in a security guard uniform and wearing a holstered pistol approached John with a clipboard.
“Hey John,” said the guard.
“What do you know?” responded John.
“Another day and another dollar,” said the guard while handing John the clipboard.
John wrote something on the clipboard and handed it back. At the same time, he lowered the limos rear window. The guard looked through the open window at Zane and Abby. He glanced down at the clipboard then tapped the limo’s roof.
“You’re good to go.”
The guard walked over to the security building and pushed a red button mounted to the side of the door. The security arm raised and John drove the limo up the tree lined entrance road. Two hundred feet later, the road veered right. Zane and Abby gasped in unison. The enormous building was a dark glass and anodized aluminium pyramid. Two years previous, Zane and Abby had attended a wedding in Las Vegas, and they stayed at the Pyramid shaped Luxor Hotel. The Neuraldine building was every bit as large and imposing as the Luxor Hotel. There was an immense fountain outside the building’s entrance, shooting a stream of water a hundred feet into the air. Lush blooming foliage, interspersed with wooden benches and sculptured shrubbery surrounded the fountain.
“Wow,” said Abby.
“That is the usual reaction, said John. Although I must admit I’ve heard a few other explicative’s a little stronger than Wow, and not generally used in the presence of a lady.”
“Ok then, how about Holy Shit!”
Zane shook his head and laughed along with John. When John quit laughing, he pointed to an area to the right of and behind the Neuraldine Building. What they saw surpassed their expectations. They were looking at a small town that had a similar rustic architectural style as what they had seen in Aspen. As John drove closer, they could see a general store; a clothing store; and what appeared to be a small school with a flagpole and a flag in front of the main building. There were kids hanging around outside one of the other buildings. John pointed out the general store and gave them a brief summary of what the store offered. Next to the store was a small café.
“Their eggs benedict are fabulous,” said John.
Further down the street was a more fashionable restaurant that bore a sign with the words “Fresh Seafood and Steaks” under the restaurant’s name, which was simply “Tom’s Place.” There was even a small Credit Union building.
“The Neuraldine Credit Union serves as the local bank,” said John.
“We have a bus; actually, we have two busses that run into Aspen twice a day.”
“How many people live here?” asked Abby.
“Neuraldine employs over two thousand people at this facility,” said John.
“There is a lot more to show you, but Devon is expecting you in about five minutes, I’m sure he will show you the rest,” said John as he turned the limousine around and headed towards the Neuraldine Building.
Saturday June 6, 2020 4:55 A.M.
Zane started to fall forward and jerked awake. There was a far off sound of a helicopter. The overcast sky and the sun had given birth to beautiful mango and alabaster clouds. It was light enough for Zane to see Jimmy. The boy was lying on top of his sleeping bag, a picture of youthful innocence. Zane wondered what long-term effects the events of the last three weeks were going to have on this ten-year-old boy. Then it hit him, he would never see or be with Abby again. He pictured her smile and thought of the laughter she was always so free to give. Zane had to walk away from Jimmy so that his son would not hear him weeping. How can this be? The last several years had been like some kind of far out science fiction novel. The Five, he thought, how could they not have seen what was happening with The Five? Abby was the first to issue a warning.
“They’re not psychotic,” she said, “They are something we know nothing about.”
Well, he thought, she was right; they are something we know nothing about. They were miscreants of doom, the bringers of John’s apocalyptic vision. Even though he, David Morris and Sid Bloomfield had written the programs that provided the high-tech education for The Five, they had no idea about what was really going on inside their minds. We just kept pumping it in and pumping it in, all the knowledge their minds could absorb. Abby warned us, she tried to tell us! However, her warning was years ago, and it was for the sake of the five children, not for the sake of humanity. Moreover, now, these five children had grown up. Now, they were “The Five.” Now, the warning Abby had last issued was for humankind. Was she too late? Were they all too late?
Jimmy let out a soft but distressful groan and Zane returned to the present. Zane quickly wiped away the tear and returned to where Jimmy was sleeping.
God how I wish I could use my GPS, he thought as he took the map and compass from his backpack. They had decided against using anything electronic because they were not sure just what The Five’s capabilities were. Why had David and Sid chosen Sedona, Arizona? What could there be in Sedona? Getting out of Colorado had turned out to be a nightmare.
They were looking at three days before they would get to Dolores, a small country town of less than one thousand people. They would have to get supplies in Dolores, and then they were going to have to travel on flat ground, with very little cover.
I wish I had my Land Rover, thought Zane. His mind traveled back to Thursday when they had passed through the small town of Rico. A Dolores County Sheriff tried to pull them over. Zane didn’t go crazy and try to out-run the Deputy. Instead, he drove at the speed limit, ignoring the lights and siren. Abby was looking at the map, trying to find a route that might be too difficult for the Deputy’s Crown Victoria. She told him to turn right on the next path, and when he started into the turn, the Deputy rammed his Land Rover. Jimmy saw it coming and yelled, “Dad” just as the Ford hit and they all jerked to the side. The collision pushed in the right rear quarter panel and bumper far enough in for it to rub against the tire. Zane took off down the small trail with the Deputy following. The big, bulky Crown Victoria was no match for the Land Rover and in less than a mile; the Deputy drove off a small embankment and rolled over once before landing back on its wheels. When Zane looked back, all he could see was a cloud of dust reflecting the red and blue colors from the Crown Victoria’s damaged emergency lights. Forty-five minutes later, Zane noticed smoke coming from the rear of the Rover. When he pulled over and stopped, he saw the flames.
“Get out, he yelled, the Rover’s on fire”
Jimmy was smart enough to start throwing their backpacks and bedrolls out of the door before he jumped out.
“Run,” Zane yelled. “Get far away from the Rover, run!”
Zane ran over to Jimmy’s side of the Rover and saw the backpacks and bedrolls on the ground, he started picking them up and tossing them far away from the burning Rover.
The right rear tire had caught fire from the friction caused by the metal and plastic quarter panel rubbing against it. Zane knew the gas tank sat above and between the two rear wheels and was afraid it would blow. He was almost right. The gas tank did not explode but a fuel line did, making a soft popping sound as it began spraying gasoline further up the frame towards the front of the Rover. Zane watched as the paint on the driver’s door began to crinkle from the heat. Within seconds, flames engulfed the entire vehicle. The wind directed the black smoke to where the three of them stood dazed as their dire situation slowly began to form a reality that had not been there a few minutes before. Zane watched as a tear slowly made its way down Abby’s cheek, while Jimmy seemed mesmerised by the flames. The smoke was stinging their eyes but they stood, not wanting to move. When the smell of the burning tires and intense heat became unbearable, Zane gently herded Abby and Jimmy to an area that was not down wind.
“Well shit, I guess we’re on foot,” said Zane with anger and disappointment, as he began retrieving their belongings.
That was only two days ago. Maybe when they got to Dolores, he could buy a cheap car. He still had more than two thousand dollars cash. Surely, he could pick up something for under a grand. From Dolores they would travel to Cortez. After Cortez, they would go to Tawaoc. Sid had told him that after he had traveled along State Highway 491 for about thirty miles, he would come to a fork. He was to take the Highway 160 at the fork. The Arizona State line was about forty miles from the 160 junction. Five miles prior to arriving at the Arizona Border, he would pass over a river. Just past the river, there was a small dirt trail. Sid said to take this trail to avoid any border Inspections. The trail ended up in Teec Nos Pos, a small Navaho Indian town just across the border.
He heard the helicopter again, but this time it sounded a lot closer. Zane nudged Jimmy awake, grateful Jimmy had been able to sleep for the last eight hours. Breakfast consisted of beef jerky and apple juice. With the helicopter flying so close, they could not chance a cook fire.
“When are we going to get there?” asked Jimmy.
“Hey, do you remember when we used to hike in the mountains, you know, down by Woodland Park?”
“Yeah,” said Jimmy, “but when are we going to get to where ever we are going?”
“Jimmy, remember when your mother and I had that talk with you about death and dying. Remember, it was right after NaNa Shriver passed away and we went on that long hike?”
“Yeah,”
“Do you remember what your mother told you? Your spirit or your soul is a form of energy. Remember, the soul, like energy, can change into something else, but it never goes away.”
“Yeah, but what has mom changed into and where has she gone. Why can’t whatever she changed into be with us now?”
“Where your mom is now, is a much better place than here,” said Zane.
“You mean she is somewhere where there is no Five?”
“Yeah, and she is someplace where you are not allowed to be sad or unhappy, they just won’t allow it, said Zane. She
look down at us, and she knows that one-day, we will join her in this happy place. That makes her very happy.”
“Dad, was mom scared, do you think it hurt very bad when she died?”
Zane looked at Jimmy and paused.
“No Jimmy, it all happened so fast, she didn’t know it was going to happen. She didn’t feel any pain at all.”
“How do you know?”
“Because, I saw what happened, and you’ve got to believe what I am telling you. Your mom did not feel anything at all. It was as if someone turned off a light. That’s how fast it was.” Zane reached out to Jimmy and pulled him in, holding his son in a tight loving paternal hug.
The clouds were slowly turning a dark charcoal gray, threatening inauspicious thundering of what the future could possibly bring.
Monday November 5, 2001 10:35 A.M.
“You mean the parents just gave their kids away,” said Abby?
“No, we explained how important this program was to the future of mankind. In addition, how their children were going to help other children all over the world. Of course, they received enormous remunerations,” said Louise, Abby’s Department Manager, and immediate Supervisor. Louise was an attractive black woman in her mid-forties. She had thirty-three employees that she supervised and was a respected and well-liked department manager.
“You mean Neuraldine bought them off,” said Abby with disdain, folding her arms in front of her, communicating a body language signal of defiance while closing herself off from Louise.
“Look, Abby.” said Louise trying to be patient, “What we are trying to accomplish will revolutionize how we learn. Think about it. A child, any child, will be able to learn what now takes twelve years to teach in less than three years. The child’s intellect will not matter because we are using a ‘Hard Wire’ method of getting information into the brain; we are setting up memory and learning patterns that were not there before. It will be like breathing, nobody taught you how to breathe, did they? Well, learning will be like breathing, effortless!”
“So what you are saying is that the ends justify the means,” said Abby.
“Yes, there have been occasions in history where men and women have made sacrifices and volunteered for something risky that would ultimately benefit mankind,” said Louise.
“You mean like the Tuskegee Experiments?” asked Abby.
“No, this is nothing like that at all and I resent your making that kind of comparison.”
“I’m sorry,” said Abby, in a softer tone. “This just does not seem right to me. I mean, these are babies; no one is asking them if they want to take part.”
“Look,” said Louise, “there are more than six million kids out there requiring Special Education. There is Autism; Attention Deficit Disorder; Dyslexia; Dyscalculia; Dysgraphia and many other learning disabilities. Our educational system is not equipped to handle these disabilities. They are choosing to medicate, not educate. What we are doing at Neuraldine is non-invasive. We are addressing that part of the brain that will not affect personality, the id, ego or super-ego.
Abby sighed as an indication of possible submission.
“I wasn’t much on Freud’s structural model, but I’m getting your point.”
“Think about this, let's take an inner city child, and let's call him Freddy. Freddy is in the third grade. The school he attends is substandard. The teaching staff has limited resources due to the low tax base. These schools do not attract the best teachers, and minorities frequently become labeled ED, Emotionally Disturbed, rather than one of the many learning disability labels that should apply. Now, these five babies will have a chance to end all of this. If we are successful, every child in the world will have an effortless and superior education. These babies will know how to add, subtract, and multiply. They will be knowledgeable of history, the arts, and the sciences. All of this by the time they are five or six years old, when a normal child is still struggling with his or her communication skills, these children will have the equivalent of a high school education. With the Neuraldine method, there is no such thing as a learning disability.”
“What I don’t understand, is why the parents can’t get involved. I mean, why couldn’t they have weekend visits or something?”
“Project Five is just the first of our students, Dr. Rothschild requires total familial isolation for the first five so that we can evaluate educational progress and look for any psychological side-effects,” said Louise.
“Psychological side-effects, I thought this method would not affect the, how did you put it; the id, ego or superego?”
“What I said was, we are not dealing with that area of the brain, and there should be no side-effects. However, Dr. Rothschild, like any good researcher is covering all of his bases. When he publishes his paper for peer review, there will be questions about the psychological effects of his process. Dr. Rothschild will have to address this in the Neuraldine Patent.”
“Neuraldine is going to patent this?”
“Well of course, Neuraldine is a business, and business makes money on what they produce. If everything goes as expected, Neuraldine’s Neural Net software will be a small part of Neuraldine. Abby, your responsibilities will be to document, not to treat. Your documentation will be a very important part of Dr. Rothschild’s program. I understand your husband, what’s his name?”
“Zane,” responded Abby.
“Yes, Zane, I understand he will be an important part of the programming team. He will be working with David Morris and Sid Bloomfield. I have heard good things about both of them from Dr. Rothschild. Shall I introduce you to The Five now?”
“The Five?” asked Abby.
“Yes, that’s what we call the babies, The Five. Dr. Rothschild came up with that label at same time he decided to name the program, Project Five.”
“Yes,” said Abby, “I would like to meet the babies.”
Later that afternoon Louise introduced Abby to a rotund and gregarious Dr. Rothschild. He was not at all, what Abby had expected. He ended every sentence with a smile or a short laugh. However, when he spoke of The Five Project, he turned very serious. Dr. Joseph Rothschild started out as a medical doctor. He slowly, because of his innate abilities, gravitated to the research side of his profession. He was at home in the
University environment and was a master at gaining grants to
further his research. Devon lured him away from Harvard with
the promise that he could continue his current research without
the financial limitations of grant money.
Rothschild had presented a paper to the “Science Now”
Magazine, that postulated his “Theory of Memory Mapping and
Neurological Data Input.” There was a good deal of criticism
from the science community, but when Devon read the article,
he saw the potential immediately. Rothschild was recruited and
Neuraldine’s Project Five was born.
“So, how was your day,” asked Zane as he sat down to a
plate of spaghetti?
“My day? My day was quite intriguing,” answered Abby in a tone that Zane recognized as either being that time of the month or something had her extremely agitated.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, what I mean is, my Brain and Cognitive Sciences Education at MIT forgot to teach me the Fundamentals of Pediatric Psychology. They just skipped right over that and went directly to Child Psychology.”
Zane laughed.
“I see you met The Five.”
“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” said Abby.
“Well, what did you think?”
“I’m not really sure about how I feel about all of this,” said Abby. “I think when I know a lot more about Rothschild’s process; I might feel a little better. Can you tell me anything about it?”
Zane thought for a moment.
“You have heard me use the word binary in conjunction with programming, right?”
“Yeah,” said Abby.
“Ok binary is all ones and zeros. If I wanted to write the capital letter ‘A’ in binary it would go like this: zero, one, zero, zero, zero, zero, zero, one. Rothschild’s theory is that we can encode data directly into the human brain via an external stimulus, using the code that we are currently developing in my department.”
“What do you mean by ‘external stimulus’,” asked Abby?
“Ok, using binary as an example again, if I attach a six-volt electrode to your middle finger on your right hand, and I give you a shock, we call it a tap because it sounds better and you barely feel it. That single tap represents a zero. Now if I attach an eight-volt electrode to your index finger on your right hand and give you a tap, this tap represents a one. Therefore, to communicate the letter A, we would give your middle finger one tap, and then we would give your index finger one tap followed by five taps to your middle finger then one tap to your index finger.”
“That sounds a lot more complicated that just saying ‘A,’ why two different voltages and why the right hand?” asked Abby.
Zane took a drink of wine from his glass.
“Hold your hands up, point your two index fingers at each other, now bring them real close and let them touch. The electrical stimulus that occurred, the instant they touched, traveled to your brain at a speed of approximately two hundred feet per second. Your fingers are the most sensitive part of your body. That is because the fingers have special nerve endings that are much more sensitive than the ends of the nerves elsewhere in the body. These nerve endings in the fingertips allow us to feel things that practically no other nerves can feel. The reason we use the right hand, is that it contributes to a relatively better perception by the left cerebral hemisphere. The left side of the brain deals with logic. It’s more analytical, rational and objective. The reason for two different voltages is to prevent ‘Sensitivity Confusion’. Sensitivity Confusion occurs when you feed data at faster rates, so by using two different voltages, the brain can discern between the two fingers.”
“This sounds like it is going to take longer than just sitting down and teaching them the alphabet and their numbers,” said Abby.
“It sounds like a long process when I explain it, I mean, zero, one, zero, zero, zero, zero, zero, one. Just keep in mind that our goal is eight hundred kilobytes per minute. That is over forty-eight million bytes per hour. In twenty-one hours, we can feed a gigabyte of data directly to the brain. Now, take a second and let those numbers sink in.” said Zane. “These numbers are just estimations and they are on the low side. It is possible that we will feed three or four times that much data.
“You mean, you only have to feed these taps into the fingers, and presto, the six month old baby knows the alphabet?”
“No, I’ve over simplified the process so you could get a grasp of how it works. Dr. Rothschild has shown that in order to comprehend the continuous stream of cacophonies and visual stimulation that battle for our attention, humans will breakdown activities into smaller, more digestible chunks, a phenomenon that you psychologists describe as ‘Event Structure Perception.’ Event Structure Perception was originally believed to be confined to our visual system, but Rothschild’s research has shown that similar processes occur with all our system senses. Therefore, with this in mind, you can see why the isolation of The Five is critical. When we start out, it is imperative that we keep outside stimulus low so that the chunks of data can be large. Once we have established our neural network, we will eliminate Event Structure Perception, because we have taught the brain how to focus and shut out any outside stimuli. Initially, we will support the electronic stimulus with audiovisual input, teaching the alphanumeric system. There is three years of pre-training, teaching the code, which is the equivalent of teaching them to talk. Once we have achieved this, the basic memory patterns have been permanently imprinted. Then we use ANN coding to build a matrix of memory patterns. We actually start training the brain how to think and solve problems. Dave, Sid, and I have been working on a compiler, which interprets bitwise data before transferring it to The Five. Dr. Rothschild has a five-year plan, which if successful, will provide The Five with knowledge comparable to a high school education.
Abby paused and lifted her wine glass, pedantically looking at the purity of the red fluid. She took a drink.
“What about communication and social skills?”
“There is a department that deals with walking, talking and all the normal things a child is exposed to as it grows,” said Zane.
“Do you hear yourself? You just referred to a child as an ‘it.’ You and everyone else around here are talking about these children as if they were some new breed of lab rat. Where is the humanity in all of this?”
She stood up, picked up her half eaten plate of spaghetti, and started for the kitchen. Zane stood and followed her. While she was at the kitchen sink, scraping the uneaten spaghetti off her plate, Zane came up and put his hands around her waist.
“This just doesn’t feel right to me!”
“Let’s not talk about it anymore,” said Zane as Abby turned on the water and then switched on the garbage disposal.
“Yeah, it’s been kind of a long day. Honestly Zane, I am having a hard time getting my head around this new concept.”
Saturday June 6, 2020 9:00 A.M.
President Harry S. Brooks sat behind his desk in the Oval Office, awaiting his Secretary of State, Harold Chambers, and the Vice President, Maxwell Duran to discuss recent problems with Pakistan. President Brooks was a tall lean man with an affable but commanding personality. His thick dark hair gave him a youthful appearance that belied his true age. The President’s Vice-President, Maxwell Duran, was the converse of Brooks. Duran was about five foot eight inches tall with abnormally broad and muscular body. His hair was thin and receding. Duran was neither affable nor charismatic. When his political backers informed him that Duran was to be his running mate, Brooks described Duran as rude, crude and socially unacceptable, and refused to consider him as his running mate. His backers changed his mind. Campaign funds seemed to make Duran more acceptable. Their strong dislike for each other was a comedic subject for staffers and interns.
Mary Wilson, the President’s secretary, knocked lightly and then opened the office door, announcing the arrival of Duran and Chambers.
“Gentlemen, come on in,” said President Brooks.
“Good morning Mr. President,” said Harold Chambers as he and Duran sat on the Sofa in front of the President’s desk.
“I’m not sure that it is,” said President Brooks. “We should all be out on the golf course, instead of here.”
Duran and Chambers gave a brief nod and polite smile of acknowledgment.
“Ok, let's get down to business, what in the hell is going on with Pakistan?”
“Anwar is simply going back on his word, said Chambers. He called me last night and said he was under too much pressure by the Pakistani Senate, particularly that ass hole Aziz. Remember, I told you he was going to be a pain in the ass when they elected him as the Senate Leader.”
“We need to bring him to our side of the table,” said Duran.
“And Max, just how do you propose we do that?” asked President Brooks.
“LISTEN TO WHAT WE HAVE TO SAY”
“What…, what…, what was that?” asked President Brooks.
“LISTEN TO WHAT WE HAVE TO SAY”
The voice inside President Brook’s head had a metallic echoing effect, sounding like multiple people speaking in unison.
Chambers and Duran looked at each other and then back at the President. Brooks had a tormented look on his face as he said, “What in the hell is going on, did you guys hear that?”