The Dane Commission (The Dane Chronicles)

Rev3: The Dane Commission
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the
products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance
to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is purely coincidental.

Copyright © 2013 by Jerry Cochran

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this
book and or portions thereof in any form.

Cover art Copyright 2013 by Jerry Cochran

Prologue

Two severely dressed young men carrying
briefcases, waited outside the President’s office. Without realizing it, they
had prepared for this moment for most of their lives.

“Well, Dr. Frances,” said Steve smiling
broadly, “Are you ready to pitch your idea to the President of the United
States?”

Sid grinned, “Look Steve it can’t be
any harder than the time we had to speak to the programmers guild. They
wouldn’t stop asking ridiculous technical questions. I don’t think I said two
words the whole night.”

Steven laughed quietly, “I remember. I
nearly lost my voice trying to keep up.”

“But we did it Steve, we won.”

Time slowed as Steven paused and looked
on his friend. It was a moment that would stay in his mind for the rest of his
life; the picture of his friend, his colleague, the man who was going to change
the world, change mankind forever. His crazy college roommate and his vision
for a better world had swayed believers and dissidents alike, gathering
followers from universities and corporations around the world. And now they
were here.

“Sid, you know he’ll be under pressure
to help you.”

“Of course,” said Sid smiling, “This is
really more of a formality than a meeting, it’s all part of the design. We did
this, you and I.”

Steven understood the true depth of
their proposal, of Sid’s mission. He felt the full weight of what they were
about to do. Following this meeting everything would change, not just for them,
but for everyone. Humanity would change.

“Steve, I swear you look nervous,” said
Sid, “Are you afraid he’ll say no? We’ve already been through this-”

Steve shook his head, “No Sid, I’m
afraid he’ll say
yes
.”

For just an instant Sid looked puzzled,
Steven almost laughed out loud. It wasn’t often Sid looked confused.

“You’re afraid of all of the work that
we’ll have to do next?”

“Maybe, I’ve enjoyed our time together
and that will surely change.”

“But that’s not it,” said Sid still
trying to understand.

“No.”

Steven considered, trying to
explain the dangers of driving technology too quickly, pushing forward when the
outcome was so unpredictable. But it was too late now, too much was in motion.
Instead he smiled and reached up to center his friend’s tie.
”There, that’s better,” he said smiling again.

From across the room, a woman said, “Dr. Frances, Mr. Ranks, the President will
see you now.”

CHAPTER 1
“What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make
an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from.
”
 
-
T. S. Eliot

He was late.

Ryan didn’t like to be late, and had
that same sour feeling in his stomach he always got when things were starting
to spin out of control. The border collie his wife had purchased less than a
year ago was staring at him with a full-on expression of love and fealty, while
it sat on the couch reeking of whatever dead thing it had rolled in outside.

There was no time for this.

The dog had already worn thin on Ryan,
and this was another black ball in a growing jar. He opened the back door, and
in his most commanding voice said, “Out.” The one word worked, rousing the dog
and edging him out the door.

Pleased that the dog hadn’t jumped on
him, he moved past the couch headed to the garage, pausing only briefly to note
the lingering smell.

The day was not starting well.

Filled with a stubborn dose of anxiety
mixed with adrenaline, Ryan was on his way to a job interview at the Sid
Frances’ IntelliHealth Research Hospital. Out of work for more than six
tortuous months, his path to redemption was this opportunity. Moving quickly
through the morning hover traffic, he gripped the wheel tightly and pushed hard
to make up the lost time. He would not be late, not today.

 
In the distance he could see the spire of the massive IntelliHealth facility,
towering over the rooftops of the city. At more than two hundred and fifty
stories, their research hospitals were hard to miss.

Following a white-knuckle ride around
and through the morning the traffic, Ryan arrived at the facility and hurtled
past the front gate into the parking lot. He looked up through his windshield,
but was unable to see the top of the building. It wasn’t until he got out of
the car and looked up, that the true size of the thing hit him. The top was
actually hidden in the clouds overhead. Like a giant sundial, the shadow of the
great thing lay across the city blotting out the sun every day for the people
to the west.

Closing his door, he made way quickly
through the cars to the front entrance and finally to the front desk.
Everything was made of chrome and glass. The guards behind the front desk were
friendly enough, but aggressively determined to know why he was here. Ryan
handed them his identification chip carrying his invitation for the interview.

”Very good Mr. Dane,” said the first
guard handing Ryan’s chip back.
“You are scheduled to report to room 75ConfB.” Nodding to the second guard, the
man stepped out and led him to an open elevator.
”Mr. Dane, do you have any questions?”

“No thanks, I’m fine,” Ryan said as
silvery, steel doors closed silently between them.
Ryan was alone in the elevator. The whole inside was mirrored, oversized and
without any identifiable control panel.

‘Where are the damn buttons?’
he wondered
looking everywhere. He lightly touched the wall thinking he could feel
movement, a slight vibration maybe but so light that he wasn’t sure. After a
few moments, he wondered if there had been some sort of mistake.
“Um, hello? Excuse me, I can’t seem to find the-” he said, cut off as the doors
opened to reveal a large electronic display on the wall just outside. It read
‘Floor 75,’ in glowing red text.

Stepping out, he suddenly felt
very comfortable.
In contrast to the stark techno image of the lobby and elevator, this floor was
home to cubicles, offices and conference rooms. The temperature was warmer, and
the background noise was considerable. Everywhere he saw crowded aisles with
people talking, and walking about.
Moving forward, and looking down an aisle he could see papers on the floor,
someone’s wastepaper basket filled with envelopes and binder wrappings. A pen
hung from a piece of yarn next to a tablet displaying a list of names. Phones
rang and copier machines were humming in the background. Artificial plants and
missing light bulbs in the ceiling, all welcomed him.
Ryan smiled, this was home.

A youngish woman with black hair and
bearing an unhurried demeanor approached Ryan.
“Are you here for the administrator position?”
“Yes, I’m Ryan Dane, and I‘m supposed to meet with-”
“Mr. James, and Ms. Allen?” said the girl, cutting him off.

“Yes, that’s right. Am I late?”
“No, not really. Besides we’re running a little late today, ourselves,” she
said.
“Please have a seat in that conference room over there.” She pointed to a room
across the foyer with a tag that read 75ConfB over the door.
“I’ll let them know you’re here, and they’ll be with you shortly.”
He looked up to say thank you, but she was already gone; lost somewhere in the
papers and cubicle walls.
  

Walking to the conference room, he
stepped inside where a long table surrounded by a lot of empty chairs, waited.
He had picked up a habit from years of meetings to look for the tallest chair
in the room. On quick survey, he found what he was after, and took a seat.
Smiling, he sorted through his things.

The room held the usual trappings;
pictures of company people and places and plaques for nondescript awards
adorned the walls. All very common.
And then there was a very large monitor.
These days it was common to see large view screens for nearly any application,
but this was something different. It covered one wall and there seemed to be
some sort of crystalline quality to a thick glass case that enclosed it.
Obvious speaker plates were positioned at top and bottom.
‘Would someone answer if I said hello?’ he thought.

But before he could test that idea, a sharp
dressed man and woman entered the room.
“Good morning Mr. Dane, Ryan isn’t it?”
The tall looking man stepped forward to shake Ryan’s hand.
“I’m Ben James, and this is Ms. Dorothy Allen,“ he said, “Dorothy represents
the Hospital Patient Services Division, and I speak for the Information
Services Department.”
 

After the usual light greetings, the
pair got settled across the table from Ryan. Not hesitating at all, Ms. Allen
began.
“Ryan, this position has become necessary because we find that we have a
problem. You see our research data is constantly sorted alongside our patient
data. It should always be perfectly correlated. It has always been this way,”
she said, pausing only to look at Mr. James, with obvious disdain, “and yet now
it is not.”
Looking back to Ryan, she continued, “We are currently experiencing points
where the data doesn’t match up. I’m told that the cause is elusive. So much
so, that we cannot find a reason for these errors. However, we are very
concerned; while few in number, these mistakes could potentially alter a
patient’s treatment and cause grievous harm.”

“Certainly, certainly,” said Mr. James,
responding a little too quickly.
“Information Services wants to help, but from our perspective everything seems
to be functioning as it should. We have made a thorough audit of the database
ourselves and found nothing amiss.”

The obviously frustrated Ms. Allen
responded, “Yes of course, but from our perspective the problem persists and is
clearly in the purview of Information Services.” She paused, collected herself,
and smiled at Ryan.
“So you see our dilemma.”

“How many years of data are you talking
about?” Ryan asked.

Unexpectedly, the air was suddenly
pierced with a new voice responding to their conversation. Startled, Ryan
dropped his pen.

“Fifteen years, three months and seven
days,” said a metallic voice at a volume slightly too high and a pitch slightly
too low. It was not a copy of a human voice, not exactly. It reminded Ryan of a
woman’s voice, perhaps one that had been reduced in pitch.

Ben James spoke up, “Sorry about that
Ryan, I forgot to introduce Sid.”
Turning to the screen, Ben said, “Sid, please introduce yourself.”

“Of course,” said the invisible voice, and immediately the huge display came to
life showing a black background, and presenting the IntelliHealth logo floating
in the middle.

“Greetings Mr.
Dane. I am SID, short for Scientific Intelligence Deployment. I cooperate with
the greatest research scientists around the world to interpret biotechnological
science and organize resources for best support of mankind.”
 
“Sid is here to represent the research component to our problem,” Mr. James
added under his breath. Ryan thought he looked annoyed.
“At this moment I am simultaneously attending eleven meetings around the
world,” said Sid in a booming voice, “My interest in this meeting is limited to
a common understanding that the problem described by these two departments is
local in proximity, and limited in scope. The underlying fault is assuredly with
a failure in one data construct poorly designed to interact with another. I am
confident the issue can be resolved quickly.”