Remember (25 page)

The injection process attracts attention. Little arms (with the hands of a person and bot) extend out and pull a small dial on the outside of each syringe making slow progress. I see what else needs doing.
Start clean out process on circulation pump.
I walk almost completely around the server looking for it. Right where it connects to the other tank a small bench holds the pump and a backup. I turn on the backup and put the primary into maintenance mode.

Everything finishes with the additions. I take off the empty ones and press the switch on the tech injector. It fills up and returns to my pocket. I head through the security door. A cam right on the hallway door spots me, shoot. Leave calmly as possible. The conference room beckons return of the equipment. Almost forget, take off the node in the elevator. I can't risk the cams catching me again.

The conference room stays the same as when I left. The requested data appears on my tech. I put the tech injector on the table, along with Otto's pad and the tech node. Scanning the supplies reveals all the data wiped, just in case some of this stuff gets into someone’s hands. My pad acts as a backup.

Tues 7/11/17 8:42 a.m.

S
omehow, I end up in Claire's office, not sure why I'm watching her closely inspect the glass surface of her desk. The apartment proves a better place for decompressing after a stressful morning. Exact opposite here. When we occupy the same room without any buffers, long, drawn out arguments ensue. I just need to leave and go home. I do just that.

"Hold on a sec, Conor," Claire says suddenly.

I stop and look back.
What does she want with me?
"Sure." I turn around and approach the counter.

Claire steps off the stool with one foot on the foot bar. "I have a quick question for you. Where did you disappear off to before work? We usually come here, at the same time, just not some days. What did you do, anyway?" She stops the rolling-chair stool from spinning with one hand. She has a black sweater with lines across the bottom half.

I press my palms into the counter dividing us. "Not that it is any of your business, but I just had a rough time sleeping. I go down to the coffee shop to get a wakeup call, as in coffee."

She bites the edge of her bottom lip. "I never drink that stuff. I'm more into yoga. It wakes me up, every time."

“Yoga?" Claire looks thin in a healthy way everywhere.
Not that I’m complaining, but she doesn’t look the part of a yogi I would trust.

She looks through me at something and keeps talking. "You know, you get into a pose that makes it harder to breathe. With enough practice you are able to focus on your breathing in any position."

I try annoying her for some reaction with brutal honesty.
"I've never believed in all that Eastern Voodoo. I'm not going to start now."

She stares, trying to believe what I just said. "I just can't listen to you, sometimes. You are sticking with an archaic Eurocentric view?"

I pull a little away for my next salvo. "
Oh
, sorry about that. I don't believe in meditation, yoga, or Thai Chi."

She takes a big breath. "Why do you go down to drink such an expensive cup of just coffee."

Claire just forgot about the whole mediation discussion? It must still bother her as we never reached a conclusion in any of our other arguments.
"It isn't coffee, thank you very much. I happen to drink a latte."

She nods over expressively. "Isn’t that a heavily watered down version of an
espresso
?"

So she does know about coffee.
"It's what I like with my issue of Omnipresent News."

She searches the drawers of her desk looking for something. "That newspaper is frontloaded with political puff pieces. Any serious news is buried in the last pages."

"What do you suggest I should read, if not Omnipresent?"
I feel nothing I say works for Claire. Why do we even talk about any of this stuff?

"I read News. It's a smaller newspaper, but it offers much better serious news. You can look at my copy. Here." She hands me a pad from somewhere in the desk cued to a front page article.

I read through the article it’s open to.

News

Mount. Outlook

Stories without slant, spin, or selective coverage, seriously.

Fri 8/5/12

Protest Ends in Confrontation

The upcoming vote on natural food growth sparks a weeklong protest. The protest concludes as of today, in the governmental district of Mountain Overlook, unfortunately with some injuries. The protesters — based on the ideals of the natural food movement — believe synthetic food harms those whom consume it. Scientific evidence continues to be inconclusive on the subject.

The act increases the regulations on natural food, mandating further food growth locations from the city proper. Additionally, requires inspecting a greater sample of produce. The governing group cites past food contamination as the reasoning behind this move. Historically a problem, substances unwarranted for consumption end up in food products and cause health issues.

Injuries result from a sudden movement within the group, unsuspecting bystanders knocked down. The injuries amount to nothing more than a few scrapes and bruises. The security presence intervenes and stops the protest with some force. The ensuing confrontation culminates in an uneasy peace. Both sides sustain injuries.

That ends the protests. The governing group has something to think about. Are they determined to stand their ground or are they accepting the opinion of the protesters as their own?

I hand back the pad. "I still don't think a smaller paper can do a good job covering the news."

She holds the pad inside her arms folded across her chest. "Whatever serious news in Omnipresent is just as watered down as your espresso."

That statement feels a little too neat. The newspaper discussion continued the one about coffee. She almost knew.
"Let’s agree to disagree." We shake hands.
It feels awkward and results with mutual discontent.

"Fine with me."

I leave, as usual. Why can't I just let it go? Why? We are just doing it to argue. There doesn't seem to be a good reason. The relative privacy of my desk provokes reading of Dr. Mekova's study. She never mentioned it before.

(—)

Cumulative Methodology to Recover Lost Memories in Traumatic Brain Injury

By: Dr. Irena Mekova, PhD. MD., Dr. Ikeyama Kimura, MD., and Dr. Lukas Monrovia, MD.

Abstract

Despite advances in safety and medicine, traumatic brain injury (TBI) continues as a serious problem. TBI accounts for 50% of all brain related medical issues. Memory loss leads the complications attributed to TBI. Up until this point, the therapies utilized originate from other industries: entertainment, law enforcement, and news publishing. The success of these therapies varies on a case to case basis. A new methodology provides a comprehensive treatment for all memory loss issues. It is explored in this cross-over study.

(—)

I suddenly feel everyone staring at me. Looking up shows, I'm just imaging it. Paranoia shakes away the privacy here. Reading stops and work starts. How to make sure the Agent doesn’t take the study. I want to read and save it. The reasoning eludes me. Any tech I have, they can wipe clean. Anyway, I have a class to get ready for.

Tues 7/11/17 12:49 Noon

I
get something to eat, after nearly finishing the class prep. Claire and Irena eat at our usual spot in the conference room. They talk indistinguishably from this distance. I pick up my food and walk towards them.

Irena finishes talking, “at the final stage.”

Claire says, “You finally decided to join us.”

“Yes, what are you guys talking about?” I set my plate of pasta down near Claire.

“I was telling Claire about my study. I’ve reached the sim body stage. That’s the last one before human testing.” Irena forks her salad of mostly pansies and puts it in her mouth.

I scrap a small section of baked-on cheese from the edge of my plate for somewhere to start eating the pasta bake. “A sim body, that sounds
awesome
. I can’t wait to do something like that. What is it anyway?”

Claire starts laughing. “That’s just like you Conor, getting excited without knowing what it’s about.” She searches the red murky depths of her soup and spoons out a big chunk of plantain banana according to my tech. That food choice exceeds my experience.

Irena points her fork at me while she swallows a mouthful of her scrambled egg (probably a vegetarian substitute) that leaked from her sandwich. “That’s fine, Conor. You just thought of the possibilities and wanted to do it. It is a tangible model of a target area. Unlike most sims, this is the real thing.”

“How do you make one?”

Irena takes a bite out of the remaining half of her sandwich and holds the contents inside the bread with the other hand. “It is just like a regular sim. You design it on a computer. It gives you the materials needed. You setup everything and add tech to grow the right number of cells in the nutrient fluid. The tech assembles the cells into the designed structures.”

Childish excitement of opening presents rushes through me.
“That. Is. just awesome.” I take my first mouth of the hot pasta, cooled from extremely hot. The melty cheese seamlessly transitions to the hints of ragu and contrasts with the toasted breadcrumbs.

“If you’re done being amazed, can we move on?” Claire impatiently searches her soup before taking a mouthful of empty broth.

I take another spoon and hold it up. “Sure, did your micro-tech come in?”

“It’s good you asked. I’ve been looking at it the last few days. I still can’t believe it works.” Claire starts spooning up the remaining broth.

I smile a little about feeling the same as Claire, just a minute ago.
“What’s so different about it?”

“It is just tiny. Normal H-tech is 50 to 75 nanometers in size. The micro-tech is ten to twenty times smaller than that. How does it all fit?” she asks forgetting about everything else.

“Couldn’t they have shrunken down the components?” Irena chases peas around her plate with her fork then uses a spoon to help.

“That isn’t possible. The physical constraints limit the size. There must be something else going on. I just can’t figure it out. What do you think I should do, Conor?” Claire cuts up the piece of mango left at the bowl’s bottom. Tech says it tastes sour, but not too sour and offers to sim it.
No.

Her expectant eyes have me thinking for a few secs. “Is there anything different about micro-tech except its size?”

“There is one unusual thing. A power source has to be connected through the node until the tech reaches the destination. That could mean something.” Claire empties her bowl and sets it aside with the spoon. She wipes her mouth with the cloth napkin on her lap.

I suggest something familiar to me, but foreign to her.
“Then you have just one choice. Do an experiment.”

Claire puts the napkin on the table. “I’ll just check the specs to see what happens.”

“Come on, where’s your adventurous personality now?”

“I’ve never had one.” She strategically picks up her spoon and wipes it with the napkin from before.

“It’s not that tricky.”

“I could do it. I just need a sim of what's happening. I can use a sealed tube filled with saline. Then, I just have to add H-tech and micro-tech. Use a node and see what is going on.”

I resist the urge to clap.
“That’s what I’m talking about.”

“If you two are finished with the love fest, we can move onto something more inclusive of the group,
children
,” Gary comes between us.

“What?” Claire asks deadpan.

“Be serious, Gary, I don’t do anything except argue with her. There’s nothing going on between us,
seriously
.”

Gary pokes me with an elbow. “I’m just pulling for a joke. Just be steady.”

Irena asks, “How is your study going?”

“I’m excited and relieved it’s almost finished. The first two weeks helped get everything setup. I made six dream progressions for the thirty subjects,” Gary answers. He sits a little straighter.

Claire looks to Gary. “What probs did you run into? Anything to do with tech?”

“That’s exactly what happened. The daily dream uploading had some bumps. The subjects didn’t always put on a node every day. The AI sim couldn’t be trusted half the time. The evolution is you can dictate what feelings the sim gives viewers.” Gary turns back to his plate of lasagna.

“How did you solve the probs?”

“I tracked down the subjects that didn’t connect and talked with them about it. The study needed dreams to be created as I went. If the AI sim didn’t work, I just had to do it myself. I managed to keep the gears turning.” Gary sighs with relief.

“What do you think the results are going to be?” Irena nibbles on the crust of her sandwich before using it wipe up the salad dressing.

“I think it’s going to do the job, my work is good enough to see a result. A few slips aren’t going to ruin anything.” Gary takes a generous mouthful of lasagna.

I ask something that should make him feel better about his hard work.
“At which point could this become main stream?”
A stiff delivery works wonders.

“It could happen today. The biggest prob with it is the hands-on requirement. You need a node on for some part of each day. The dream designing devours time. You spend a few hours for each dream week. The dreaming totals just a few hours of remembered time. To get it to go smoothly… will take a few years. The legal issues are another thing.” Gary cleans up his lips with a napkin and returns to eating. He must want to get back to work or something.

“That doesn’t sound like anytime soon.”

Irena says, “It’s been fun. I better get back to my sim body.” She takes her blue glass plate and returns it before heading upstairs.