Harry barely noticed the tingling sensation at the top of his head as the Josephson’s junction hummed with activity. His interface with the quantum computer had become second nature, seamless and intuitive.
He had recently figured out how to use the visualized workspace—an important component of the Root utilities—and was working through a few exercises to solidify his understanding. A thousand images exploded in front of him, all more vivid than in the most intense dream. The workspace was now filled with countless perspectives of the structural attributes of a 1949 Studebaker. Harry zeroed in on the engine block, which was suddenly laid out in a complex series of two-dimensional images.
Harry loved the projective transformations the utility allowed him. It was a potter’s wheel of the mind where he could shape his thoughts into the most unbelievable patterns.
His exercise was straightforward—to combine elements of the mechanical nanotechnology module with the more flexible and programmable nanobot module. He was programming nanobots to assemble a fully functional scale model of a 1949 Studebaker. The end result would be a toy Studebaker of no use to anybody, but the process was a valuable lesson that would sharpen his skills.
The images in the workspace were replaced with a long list of parameters he had selected. He reviewed them quickly, exited from the link, and was again aware of being seated at his desk. A diet soda, to the right of the keyboard, was beaded with sweat. It had sat untouched for nearly fifteen minutes. Harry took a sip and then glanced at the monitor. The same parameters that had appeared moments before in the workspace now filled the screen. Barely looking at them, he punched “Enter” and waited to see what would happen.
Suddenly, from out of nowhere, a cloud of black insects began to whirl around his desk. They were like fleas and seemed to leap about willy-nilly, thickening into a dark cloud. An ingot of metal began to emerge from within the cloud. Gradually, as the cloud thinned out and the insects vanished, Harry could see what his programmable nanobots had created—a ten-inch scale model of a 1949 Studebaker. To Harry’s critical eye, it was a perfect replica. The nanobots disappeared, reduced to component molecules upon completion of the job.
Harry was reaching over to pick up the scale model Studebaker, when he heard a knock on the door.
“Goddamn it!” said Harry, loud enough to scare off most would-be visitors.
Harry heard the hinges squeak as the door swung open and then the thud of footsteps in the outer part of his office. Two seconds later, Eric Meyers stood before his desk. Harry was so surprised by his sudden appearance that he was slow to react.
“I’ve come here hoping to bury the hatchet,” said Eric without preamble.
Harry was perplexed by Meyers’ statement. In his literal-minded way, he thought immediately of John Balis, referred to by everyone at HTPS as The Hatchet.
“You want to bury John Balis?” Harry asked. His disbelief was written on his face. Who was this psycho?
It was Eric Meyers’ turn to look perplexed. “John Balis? Who the hell brought up John Balis?”
“You did,” Harry shouted.
Eric Meyers shrugged off the miscommunication. “Mind if I sit down?”
“Get the hell out of my office.”
Eric Meyers sat down anyway. “I won’t take up much of your time. I know you’re a busy guy. I just want to find out where we’re at with the decryption software.”
“Get out!” Harry screamed.
Meyers continued to react as if Harry’s behavior was completely reasonable. If he flinched, the motion was nearly imperceptible. Crossing one leg over the other, he said in an even voice, “I just want to know where we’re at. As soon as you tell me, I’ll get out of here.”
Harry glared at him. But then he regained a measure of self-control and plopped down into his desk chair. Folding his arms across his chest, he leaned forward and enunciated clearly, as though addressing the hard-of-hearing, “We’ve made a start and taken the first step. Now get THE HELL out of here.”
Deliberately obtuse, Meyers focused on the first part of Harry’s reply. “That’s good—you’ve made a start. The journey across China begins with the first step.” He looked casual and relaxed as he said this, leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head and a satisfied smile on his face.
Harry growled, “Who the hell said anything about China?”
Eric Meyers blew out an exasperated puff of air. “It’s an expression,” he said with an exaggerated shrug.
Harry’s jaw was clenched as he ground out, “A2 + B2 = C2—that’s an expression. What you just said is bullshit.”
This finally earned Harry a reaction. Meyers’ face reddened. “I just want to know where things are at with the programming.”
By now Harry was close to hyperventilating. “You want to know where things are at?” he said in a dangerously quiet voice. “Well, I’ll show you, goddamn it.”
Spinning around, he began to punch commands into the keyboard. He felt a vibration at the top of his head and in an instant Eric Meyers vanished, replaced by the virtual world of the quantum computer. With a single thought, Harry accessed the Root utility. Seconds later a thousand images appeared on his visualized work space. This time, instead of automobile parts, they were human anatomical parts. With blazing speed, Harry selected the parts he wanted to target for programming. After that he shifted his attention to the nanobot directory. Again, with amazing speed, a series of images winked into existence. They were tiny, insect-like devices, nanobots specifically selected for their search and retrieve function. Like a distant echo, he heard the sound of Eric Meyers’ voice.
“What the hell are you doing, Sale? You look like a fuckin’ cretin, sitting there with your mouth open like that.”
A long list of parameters winked into existence in the visualized workspace. Harry reviewed them rapidly and then broke the connection to the quantum computer.
“You are the weirdest guy I’ve ever come across,” said Eric Meyers.
Harry saw the same parameters listed on the monitor in front of him. He punched “Enter” and turned toward Eric Meyers. He was more relaxed now. There was even a smile on his face.
“Wipe that shit-eating grin off your face,” Meyers snarled.
Harry raised an index finger. “Wait,” he said softly. He thought Meyers was going to jump out of his chair and punch him. “Just wait,” he said again.
A cluster of black dots appeared on Eric Meyers’ leg, but the man didn’t even notice. He was too busy glaring at Harry.
The black dots climbed up to the top of Meyers’ leg and disappeared down his waist band. Harry watched as Meyers shifted uncomfortably in his chair. There was a dangerous look in his eyes.
Meyers lurched forward, his look of anger replaced by one of surprise. He yelped like a small dog that has been kicked and leaped out of his chair. He began to leap from foot to foot, all the while swatting his backside with his hands.
“Is something wrong, Private?” Harry asked.
Meyers did not answer. He was dancing wildly about Harry’s office, swatting at his posterior.
Harry walked to the outer part of the office and opened the door, watching with amusement as Eric Meyers danced into the hallway.
“Come back any time!” Harry called after him.