In progress manuscript for evaluation only. Please do not distribute without the author's permission

Still no alarm. Still no nothing. I hadn’t escaped and no one apparently gave a damn. I considered going back down to twelve and go back into my apartment just as I’d come out. But that seemed a little stupid. If they knew I was gone, what difference did it make how I returned. If they didn’t know I was gone, well then ditto.

I walked into the hallway from the stairwell door and no one greeted me. With an automatic rifle or a handshake. So I simply walked back to the lab door, walked in, saw Cassie still busy at her station, and went into my apartment.

An, for the first time since I’d left that evening, though the hole in the floor, I was surprised. Someone was waiting for me there. Someone I hadn’t expected. Sitting right on the end of my bed. Right above the trap door that had been carefully put back into its place so no one would notice. Christopher Masters. CM. The headman. Looking not altogether pleased at the moment.

21.
“So, Professor Francis, you’ve decided to rejoin us.”

I just tried to outstare him. Eyes locked in place.

“I’m curious,” he said, “as to how you planned to escape off the roof. Some digital life form going to carry you away?”

He blinked. Caught you.

“Actually,” he continued, “you’ve been free to roam the thirty-one stories of the building whenever you wanted. You didn’t have to take such circuitous routes. Up. Down. And with nothing much to show for it.”

“Got a nice view of the city,” I said, “and Pleiades. Haven’t seen either of those in quite a while.”

“A long way from North Dakota, eh?”

I continued to stare. But he was good. Held his own. And blinking doesn’t really count. Everyone blinks. No matter what they tell you.

“You told me to stay here in the apartment or the lab,” I said.

“True enough. I needed you to work, not explore. But we have nothing to hide here. You can leave anytime you want. Not out of the building, of course, but anywhere in the building.”

I let that sink in for a minute.

“But I’m disappointed, Professor Francis.”

“Why? I didn’t get away.”

“Not that. With your work in the lab.”

“Cassandra break the code?”

“Actually no. She didn’t come close to doing that.”

“Then what?”

“While she was working on it, she happened to keep the virus running. I guess you didn’t plan for that. She found something interesting.”

I turned away. He won. I knew what she’d found. And then told him she’d found it.

“What were you thinking, Francis?”

Will, I said to myself. My name is Will!

“After she’d run it for a while, up came a window that said ‘Credit goes to Christopher Masters.’ What do you think would happen after the public got wind of that?”

No reason to answer that. We both knew what would happen.

“Cute trick. I admit that. But we can’t let that happen. Ruin the whole game don’t you think?”

I tried to outstare him again.

“So. We need you to get back to work on a new version. This time without the special window.”

I conceded his little victory. Or rather hers. It was there to find. It had just never occurred to me that she’d run the virus for that many hours in order to find it.

“Am I still free to explore the building?” I asked him.

“Entirely. But only on your time. It cannot under any circumstances keep you from your work.”

I nodded and broke my stare.

“In fact, Professor Francis, I think it’s about time I truly introduced you to the group of what you, I think, call the investors. They’re just about to eat a meal in the dining quarters across the hall.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see,” he said.

“Sure.”

“You’d rather have it up here with you?”

“No, but if I’m not in prison here, why all the secrecy about the cook’s quarters?”

“You’d have to ask whoever designed the building that. We’re not the first people to live here. We just took advantage of what we found.”

“You mean the previous owners set it up?”

“Exactly what I mean. It’s kind of stupid if you ask me. After all, what were they thinking? But why not make good use of what you have. If it presents itself.”

I tried to imagine what business they’d been in.

“What will I find in the rest of the building?”

“Nothing much.”

“What do you mean?”

“I own the building, but only occupy a few floors. It came dirt cheep. Bought it from the government.”

Government?

“Which one?”

“Ours, of course. Yours and mine. When the recession hit, they began giving military and other installations away for almost nothing. I had dreams we might need all these extra floors. So far not. But if things go like I think they will, we’ll need every square inch. Eventually.”

Military facility. Made sense.

“Why the militia outside?”

“Saw them, huh?”

“Hard not to.”

“They’re there for many reasons. Probably the most important one is to protect us from competitors. You see, Professor Francis, we do some top-secret work here. And some people would very much like to discover what. And how far along we are. We need to protect ourselves from them.”

“Like the authorities?”

“If you mean the police, FBI, CIA, and so on, no. They’re our biggest supporters. And WE operate mostly on the funds they supply us. In fact, I would say that they know almost everything we do in here.”

“Almost?”

“Yes. Except for your current role. They know nothing about that.”

“And that’s why you got the building so cheap?”

“Absolutely. I think almost anyone else would have had to pay several times the amount we had to pay. We got quite a deal.”

“But those aren’t Government Issue protection out there.”

“They are not. Private force. Just like you have in supermarkets. But ours have a bit more firepower.”

“So, then, what do you do here besides hijack guys like me to conduct illegal business?”

“Now that I can’t tell you. Everything we do here is highly confidential.”

“You guys work for the government then?”

“In a way. But certainly not officially. We’re not guns for hire. We don’t sell to the highest bidder. We simply do our best to satisfy Uncle Sam and he in turn pays us for our work. Make sense?”

It did. Except for his current endeavor with me.

“If you’re so damn well paid, why do you need me to bilk millions of people with a computer virus?”

“The answer to that question, Professor Francis, will come in due time. Later. For now, why not we walk across the hall and make some acquaintances?”

And with that, he got up and led the way out of my apartment, through the lab with Cassie number two still lost in her work, and across the hall to the dining room. I wondered as we walked if the cook had to climb a ladder and magically appear there as well.

“No,” CM said,” the cook takes the freight elevator there,” as if he’d read my thoughts.

22.
When we entered the room, all eyes immediately turned toward their leader just as they had when I’d first met them. At least some of them. Apparently a few had missed that earlier meeting. Now we had a mix of women and men, Looked like thirteen in all. An interesting number.

“Good morning,” Christopher said. “As promised, this is Professor Will Francis from North Dakota. He’d like to join you this morning. I told him it would be fine.”

Their looks didn’t change. A kind of idolatry present. Of he had something on all of them. Or they were drugged. Maybe some of each.

“You already know a good deal about him. But he doesn’t know much about you. So why don’t we begin by going around the table with each of you stating your name clearly and then something about what you do here.”

They nodded in unison and we began. After CM and I sat down into the two remaining empty chairs. Right next to one another.

“George Rank,” the one on my right said. “I’m an astrophysicist who also works a bit in chemistry. I know it may sound like an odd combination, but I make it work to some advantage.”

Before he could continue, CM added, “George is being modest. He helped invent a gizmo that increases the potency of radio telescopes by thirty percent in the infrared band. Helps immensely in determining the chemical makeup of objects in space.”

I nodded. Nothing much else to do.

“Pauline Stanford,” the woman to his left said. “I’m interested in mathematical game theory. Also graph theory. I use it to simulate social behavior. Sometimes useful in predicting situations in which large numbers of people might react to certain large-scale disasters. That sort of thing.”

“Again, modesty,” CM interrupted. “Pauline is the world’s best at what she does. Can predict when chaos will culminate in strange attractors as well as what she just said.”

Pauline looked down at her empty plate. Dinner, apparently, hadn’t yet been served.

“Richard Gore,” the next one said. “I write science fiction. Once in awhile a non-fiction book about something science related.”

“He’s a superb writer and futurist,” CM added. And his popular science books are the most understandable and readable on the market.”

I thought I should be making notes. I heard of everyone of these people. Bore least, of course, but I’d nonetheless read one of his books.

“David Epoc,” the next one said. “I do what you do. Research artificial intelligence and artificial life, except in my case I do it as it relates to the arts and especially music.”

I hadn’t heard of him. But his work sounded worth pursuing.

“Again, David’s being modest. He’s published many books on the subject and has computer-composed music the quality of which you wouldn’t believe.”

That brought us to a stunning looking older woman who I definitely recognized.

“Rachael Stern,” she said. “Professionally I’m a biochemist. But lately I’ve been heavily involved in possible extraterrestrial life forms. What they might look like. How they might differ from us. Extremophiles. That kind of thing.”

CM looked at a lost for words, so kept his peace.

And the introductions continued around the table. Engineers. Mathematicians. An artist. An architect. Interesting people. Interesting professions. Incredible collection of possible combinations. A cross section of modern arts and sciences. I recognize about half of them. Maybe six. Maybe seven.

“And there are others as well, Professor Francis. They couldn’t make it. Too busy with their work.”

“Nobody seems to do the same kind of things,” I said.

“Exactly. That’s the whole point, you see. To get interesting, skilled, but different people together to see what kind of things they can build and take apart. In some cases, both. We’re not trying to cover every base, mind you. Just trying to make up for the over specialization we find in the typical research business around the world.”

A noble effort.

“And the ones that aren’t here?”

“Same thing. Different professions, but still the best in their field.”

“And they live here?”

“I’m going to let them tell you how that works. Ladies and gentlemen, I’ll leave you now. Dinner will be served shortly. As always, Gabby will no doubt serve something spectacular. Please feel free to give Professor Francis any information he asks for.”

And he left. Leaving me with thirteen people I’d never met, with whom I’d never spoken, but with some of whose work I was familiar. Damned if I could figure out what as going to happen next.

“Good to have you here, Professor Francis, David Epoc said. I’ve heard a great deal about your work. Mighty impressive.”

Mighty impressive? He was the AI, AL expert I remembered. I hadn’t heard of him or his work. Maybe because he’d been locked up here doing his thing for the company, and ultimately for the big G.

“I know you haven’t heard of me, but I too use chaos to produce life-like creatures. I’d like to share notes with you sometime while you're here. If you’d think that would be possible.”

“Sure,” I said, not knowing precisely what was and what was not possible at this point. More confused now than before I’d ever heard of Christopher Masters and his little corporation.

At that point, dinner was served. Gabby, as CM had called him, entered and presented his small staff of servers dolling out generous helpings of all manner of goodies. Something French, something Italian, Something Russian, but I couldn’t give you the name of any. The wine, however, was Napa in California, and several bottles to lubricate our tongues.

And we ate. And drank. Small talk here and there. But it was clear that dinner was for eating and drinking, not for discussing serious research matters. Fine with me. The food, as it had been since I’d arrived, was superb. Delicacies I could name or describe. Didn’t matter. I couldn’t remember having a more memorable meal.

“You live here?” I asked.

Most nodded.

“Why?”

“But how about your families?”

“We don’t live here all year,” George continued. “We come here when needed. The pay’s great and the people we work with are incredible.”

“So you do this because you want to, not because you’re forced to.”

To a person, they stared at me. Then David said, “We do. And I can understand why you ask that. We know that you’re different. You were, shall we say, coerced. But that’s because you were desperately needed, and most likely wouldn’t come otherwise.”

“And because there were others out to claim you for themselves.”

Nods all around.

“For an illegal activity,” I said.

“We know. None of us wanted this. But we all agreed that given the alternatives, it had to be done.”

“And those alternatives would be?” I said.

“Closing down the building that Masters has so carefully put together for so long.”

“Why?”

“Even if it cheats people out of money?”

“No more than taxes do. Think of it this way. We’re just taxing everyone that uses a computer ten dollars to continue using their computers. Not a bad deal, don’t you think? After all, everyone that can afford to buy a computer can afford ten dollars for that right.”

“And this building will fill with equipment and more experts and we’ll get a lot more productivity from that investment than the government would if they taxed the same people.”

“Sure it’s illegal. But no one is actually harmed by this beyond a small annoyance.”

“You all buy into this?” I asked.

“We had to. By acclimation. Everybody. That’s the way this place operates.”

“So you agree with the man.”

“Agree with him. We honor him. He’s keeping science alive at the very moment when it’s falling apart. And what he’s done for freedom defies logical augury.”

What? Augury? I let it go.

“Look here,” George said. “Did he ever lie to you? Even once? No. He doesn’t lie. And he won’t harm you. Or harm anyone you love. He just needs this virus for a couple of weeks and to get the antivirus out there and it will be all over. Clean and simple. And we’ll be up and running again. You’ll go back to North Dakota and continue teaching. And the problems the US is just beginning to face because of this situation will slowly disappear.”

“Because of what you’ll do.”

“Yes. Think of us as a true think-tank. The best of what that term means. And at the heart of that think-tank is Christopher Masters. A truly great man with only freedom and justice as his life’s purpose.”

“Make his seem like a saint.”

“He’s not that. But he’s close.”

I looked around the room. Thirteen disciples. Had they been drugged? Was this some kind of cult? Didn’t seem possible given the combined IQ of the people around me.

“So. According to you, I should let myself be used to create what he wants and then go about my business and forget what I know.”

“Or tell me how you do it,” David said, “and I’ll do it. If it makes you that uncomfortable.”

“Wouldn’t it make you uncomfortable?”

“No,” he said matter-of-factly. “It would make me feel great. Sometimes little sacrifices must be made for the greater good.”

Sounded like something out of a children’s book.

“David’s not a bean counter like you apparently are.”

George, next to me, let the arrow sink in deep before he pulled it out.

“I’m just saying that the letter of the law is sometimes better left to laymen rather than keep us from doing higher things. I would have drunk liquor during prohibition. I often drive faster than the speed limit. Making sure everyone adheres to the letter of the law is ridiculous. It’s the spirit of the law that counts.”

I sat back in my chair and looked around the room. Obviously they all agreed with those who’d spoken. I’d gotten a better understanding of what went on here than I’d imagined possible. More than a simple problem. A contained sort of chaos. Gray. Not black or white as I had thought.

23.
As I took the short walk back to my apartment, I realized the dizzying number of elements in the puzzle of my life. Two Cassies. A good-bad guy running a scientific arts cult of some kind and working for the government asking me to do illegal things. Some apparently really bad guys after me. Held in first a lab, then an apartment, and now in a thirty-one-story building against my will. I left out the meth, my horny lab mate, the trap door in the living room of my apartment, and getting caught trying to reveal my kidnappers to the computer world. And Gabby the cook.

I had no idea what time it was and didn’t much care. I’d sleep when I got tired. Eat whenever the cook thought it proper to do so. And work again on my little mathematical creatures, leaving out the billboard announcing the perpetrator at the end. But could I really go through with doing something this illegal? After all, as innocent as the crew in the dining room had made it seem, billions of dollars would somehow get transferred in the process of saving this whatever it really was. After all, most Ponzi schemes seem trifling to those who think them up and run them. In the end, someone’s got to lose if someone’s going to win.

I still didn’t care what time it was, but I was tired. So I ignored Cassie number two in the room and went directly into my apartment and lay down on the bed. Tomorrow was another day. Or night. Whatever. Probably the wine, I went right to sleep. But it seemed like I’d been out for only minutes when the alarm went off again. Jesus it was loud. I couldn’t think.

Running out of my apartment door I caught a glimpse of Cassie, startled from her compulsion into trying to figure out what was going on. Like me. We both bunched our shoulders. With my newfound freedom, I ran out the door, down the hallway, and into the dining area, half expecting the cult to still be sitting at the large table. The place was empty. What did one do around here if the alarm went off? Who to ask what’s going on?

As I turned to step out the door and back into the hallway, someone dressed in military fatigues rushed by me toward the elevators. I yelled at him, “What?” He bunched his shoulders, too. No one apparently knew.

I then did the only thing I could think of doing apart from going back to my bed and hiding under the covers. I walked down the hallway with the palms of my hands covering my ears, and looking into every room I could find. All were lit. All were empty. Where was everybody?

I made it to the elevators, which were quite busy according to the lights and the arrow pointing to various floors. The action was obviously down on the first floor because that’s where the cars stopped. And then they came up again. I pushed the down button, if for no other reason than that it was something to do at the moment.

In a moment or two the elevator door opened to an empty car. I entered and pushed the button marked ‘GF’ meaning ground floor I hoped and not grand finale. And down it went. Fast and graceful as it had the other two times I’d ridden in it.

And suddenly I was on the GF. The doors opened.

Nothing surprised me anymore. Or so I thought. But I was wrong once again. For right in front of me was an empty lobby. No one there at all. Not even the night watchman. No reason for him to be there, actually, since the sun shown brightly through the tall front windows. Outside I could see a tranquil morning in Queens, but without the walkups and other apartments in a row that one associates with that part of the city. All perfectly normal as far as I could tell.

Where the hell had everyone gone? Had I missed the weekly procession downtown to the zoo? Had the bad guys already taken care of them, hauled them away to be buried somewhere, and left me to fend for myself.

Suddenly the alarm went off. As before, the relief was so incredible when it stopped that I felt euphoric for a second. Then, even though I felt deaf, I heard another sound from my right. Near the entrance to the door to the stairs. I turned and saw David Epoc standing there, motioning me toward him.

“In here,” he said.

Better than any idea I had. And so I joined him and together we went down the last flight of stairs the building had. And there we found the remainder of the thirteenth and vicinity group of scientists, artists, Cassie number two, and CM, all standing there staring at me.

“What the hell’s going on?” I asked.

“Terrorist warning.”

“Terrorists?” I asked.

“You know. 9/11 and all that.”

“Crap,” I said, ‘you mean there’s another one of those happening?”

“Don’t know. That’s what we’re waiting to find out.”

“And we’re gathering in the cellar?”

“That’s about it.”

“In case a plane comes and collapses the building on us.”

“Hadn’t thought of that.”

“Maybe someone ought to. These happen often?”

“Once or twice a month.”

“There are terrorists attacks in New York city once or twice a month? Why don’t I know about this? I read the papers. Nothing there about them.”

“Mostly they’re just trial runs. You know, tests. To make sure we know what to do.”

“Like the things they make school children do in case of earthquakes. Things like that.”

“I suppose.”

“And how often are these real terrorist attacks?”

He looked confused.

“Never. Yet.”

I looked at him, unsure of what to ask next.

“They go off all over the city?”

“Only in the government buildings I think.”

“What do the rest of the people do?”

“Don’t know.”

“And is this a government building?”

“Used to be.”

“But it isn’t now.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why hasn’t someone thought to disconnect it?”

“Probably figured it was a good idea.”

“Of course, the bad guys could be having a field day stealing everything you guys have been working on while we stand waiting down here in the basement.”

“Hadn’t thought of that.”

“There’s apparently lots of things you haven’t considered or thought about.”

“I’m sure Masters has them under control.”