Collective Mind (39 page)

“Give
me the dictaphone, quick! There are scads of cameras here, I don’t have time to
stand here jawing with you!” growled the Professor.

“No,
I won’t! What’s in it? What kind of “sub-insurance?” Bikie’s voice was firm.

Link
coolly trained the pistol on Bikie.

 “It’s
merely a little copy of the latest data base. Harmless, but it means a lot to
me. The latest technologies that have been developed. It is the payment for my
invention. And taking a bullet for it is very bad for your health. You can keep
the hack as a souvenir. You never know, it might come in useful.”

“What
a bastard you are, Link! Now I understand why you didn’t want to go to the
police! You wanted to steal the technologies right from the start, you were
just messing with me! We all took risks here for nothing! Bikie risked
everything!” Isaac was absolutely furious.

“It’s
billions of dollars, you dope! And by right they’re mine! What I said about the
police was perfectly sincere, you, idiot! Everyone wants money. Not only you,
Bikie!” Link started losing his temper too. “Go running to the police, Isaac,
if you’re so smart. You have a good thousand living proofs now!” Then he turned
to Bikie: “And you give me that copy, you, blockhead, or I’ll put a bullet
through that tattooed noggin!” Link aimed the pistol straight at Bikie’s head.

Wolanski
suddenly stepped in between Bikie and Link, turning his back to the Professor.

“Please,
Bikie, hand it over. He was aiming at your head, so now he’s aiming at the back
of mine. Hand it over for my sake,” said Peter. “You’re my friend. Give him the
damned technologies, let him choke on them.”

Bikie
reluctantly handed the dictaphone to Peter.

“An
attractive little gizmo. Very stylish. But not worth dying for.”

Wolanski
turned to Link.

“Here,
take it. And now get lost!”

“Brat!
How dare you? You three are just three dumbheads, blind with hate, three
inquisitors of science! Punks, who tried to kick the ass of evolution. 
Pathetic froggies! Did you really believe that I will help you to destroy my
creation, my child? The most progressive invention of all times? The only
possible safe artificial intellect which has already saved millions of lives? You
are just regular half-wits, you were nothing but the means at hand, like a taxi
driver who brought me here, not more. Collective Mind gave the world as many
good things as God! Or more! It gave peace and happiness, created paradise on
the earth, here and now. Releasing the energy of these people you won’t get
anything, they will all come back, you’ll see. Your lousy freedom is nothing
but fighting for survival. Do you really believe this kind of freedom is
needed? Your freedom results in wars for different spiritual values, material
benefits. Order! That’s what they need! Freedom is in order! Jerks!”

The
Professor mumbled something else and backed away into the lift he had called,
still pointing the gun at them. When the doors had almost closed, he smiled
sneeringly, swung his arm and tossed the gun into the corridor. It fell with a
crashing, the silencer flying in one direction and the gun in the other. The
pistol was not real. It was a plastic fake.

“Ah,
you asshole,” exclaimed Bikie, kicking the doors.

“Let
him go,” said Wolanski. “The Professor is in for a little surprise too.”

“What
have you done?” Isaac cracked down on Wolanski. “That asshole tricked us.”

“Bikie,
Isaac, wait, it’s all right. Here, take your dictaphone, Bikie. The Professor
took away a real dictaphone,” said Peter, emphasizing the last two words. “I
even recorded a greeting for him,” Wolanski said with a smile. “Now we’re
definitely clearing out of here, and quick!”

Recovered
from the shock, the false donors ran along the corridor to the exit. Not
completely recovered yet, Bikie stumbled on the stairway and Isaac helped him
get up. Outside a car with driver was waiting for them. As soon as they all got
in, it drove away.

Bikie
checked that he was holding the Professor’s dictaphone. It was still there, in
his pocket.

“Peter,
can you explain all this, maybe?” Isaac asked.

“In
a moment,” Wolanski replied, “Not here. Did you leave anything in the hotel
worth going back for?”

“Nothing
special. The biker jacket that Bikie gave me. I have my passport with me.”

“Bikie,
how about you?”

“No.
I’ll buy everything new now. And a jacket for Isaac, too.”

“That’s
just great. Then we go straight to my place.”

***

In
the elevator, Link held the dictaphone carefully. It was priceless! “That’s
strange, the keys are not taped over,” he thought. And it looked absolutely
new. He suddenly felt a vague doubt. The screen indicated that there was one
recording. “What the hell is this?” the Professor swore and pressed the
playback key.

“Hi,
Professor,” the dictaphone said in Wolanski’s voice. “If you’re listening to
this, it means I was right. I have a piece of advice for you. It is better to
be a heroic freedom fighter than a member of a terrorist group. I wish you
luck!”

What
sort of drivel was that? Link was berserk with rage. The lift doors opened and
he saw the hall crowded with people. The Professor tried to jostle his way
through them to the exit, but suddenly a man standing beside him shouted:

“Look,
it’s Professor Link!”

Standing
a bit farther off than the throng of journalists was the Professor’s
red-bearded assistant. Link had summoned him a few days earlier and they were
supposed to meet today. Redbeard watched what was happening helplessly, not
knowing what to do. People were exulting, shouting, squealing. He watched Link,
totally bewildered and frightened, being tossed in the air like a champ by the
ecstatic crowd. Others were trying to squeeze through the crowd with
microphones at the ready. How had they recognized the disguised Professor, and
who had gathered them here?

***

Having
reached the famous Plaza Hotel, the car stopped. Peter asked the driver to wait
for an hour and invited the friends upstairs to his room. He poured himself
some water and finally explained everything.

“In
my bedroom and all over the house, even in the grounds, there are lots of
hidden video cameras,” Wolanski began. “I wasn’t intending to snoop on you.
Well, sorry, maybe just to start with. I didn’t really know you, it was just in
case. After Amsterdam, to be honest, I never looked even once. But then an
alert message was triggered, telling me you’d gone into my bedroom after all. I
was angry, of course, but when I saw that it was Link himself, that you’d found
him after all, I decided not to say anything. But I keep a few personal things
in my bedroom, and it would have been unpleasant if Link found out about them.
I watched the recordings once in a while to check that he didn’t poke around
into my chest of drawers. I also noticed that he always locked the door. That
seemed strange to me. Anyway, I started spying on him.

 “Well,
I wasn’t an undergraded flankey either, and when I realized that if the
Professor was locking the door and working on two devices, but only showing you
one of them, I concluded that he was doing something you might not like. They
were connected in some way, he usually switched them on at the same time. Then
I saw that he had bought a gun. I thought it was real at first too. It really
looks like it.”

“Dammit,
Peter, and I thought you were super-cool, but it turns out you knew the gun
wasn’t real?” Bikie chortled.

“Of
course, I did. How do you think he could have got a real one past the metal
detector? Think about it!”

“Hell
knows. He’s a smart guy.”

“Damn
the gun anyway. In a critical situation like that, no one could tell it was a
toy. Anyway, I had no more doubts: he hid the second device too carefully
before he left the bedroom. And then he stuck the gadget in the casing of a
dictaphone. Sure, I couldn’t make out what it was, but I bought a dictaphone exactly
like that oen just in case.”

Isaac
got a kick out of listening to Peter. It was a real pleasure to deal with
intelligent people. Yes, Isaac had screwed up a bit, been too trusting. But did
he really have any choice?

“So
then it was important not to miss the day when you went for the hack. Hanging
about with you in New York was too dangerous, given that you had already
dragged a policeman bound hand and foot into my home.”

“I
decided not to put you in the picture about that,” explained Isaac. “That way,
if anything went wrong, you could wriggle out of it. Who knows, they could have
stuck you on some kind of lie detector. But that way, you were clean.”

“Isaac,
you frightened me so badly with your secrecy and your coded telephone
conversations that I couldn’t even share my thought about Link with you. And
you also forgot to warn me about the first attempt. You should be grateful it
didn’t work out and we have the dictaphone now. He remained silent for a while,
then added: “And I actually wanted to do it myself.”

“Peter,
you are super,” Isaac smiled delightedly. “But I must admit that I was more
concerned about hacking into the system and giving the Veggies their energy
back. If Link happened to steal something from UNICOMA in the process, I
couldn’t give a damn. They’re no friends of mine. Although, of course, it’s a
pity the Professor turned out to be such a lowlife. He deserves a good lesson
for that!”

“Oh,
you still haven’t heard the end of my story. I took care of that too. I made a
few calls to various editorial offices and told them Link would be at the
American branch of UNICOMA in the former Guggenheim Museum. As proof, I even
sent them a photo from my web camera. I knew he would be in disguise, but
someone would recognize him anyway.”

“And
what if he hadn’t been a traitor?”

“Then
he would have gotten away through the side entrance with us,” shrugged Peter.
Then he glanced at his watch and added: “By the way, it’s time we got out of
here. We’re going to the airport. I’ve already bought tickets for the plane.
The flight’s in two and a half hours.”

“Peter,
but how did you know the Professor would leave on the lift?” Isaac inquired.

“I
didn’t. But it’s quite logical. He’s not twenty years old, to go running along
corridors. But even if he had it would make no difference -– to hell with him
anyway.”

In
the car, Isaac admired the city again. If everything worked out, he would be
back here soon. With Michelle and Vicky. And maybe with Pascal, Bikie, and
Peter. But right now he wanted to go home.

At
the airport, the incredible news was showing on all the channels on all the
screens. People thronged around the monitors. Everywhere it was “Breaking
News”, “Professor Link Found,” “Scientific Genius is Back,” “Rioting Breaks Out
in Veggie Colony in Queens,” “Happies Make Shocking Claims.”

Bikie
and Isaac craned their necks and watched the reports along with everyone else,
their eyes glued to the screens. “Happies Riot in Brooklyn and Staten Island,”
“UNICOMA Does Not Comment,” “Professor Link’s Press Conference Set for 5p.m.”

“At
the very least, we totally liberated New York,” Bikie whispered contently.

“That’s
for sure. Today we’re definitely the world’s newsmakers. When we get home,
we’ll celebrate big time!”

“I
wonder if Pascal, Michelle, and Pellegrini are seeing this.”

“You
bet they are!”

Bikie
turned towards Isaac, lowered his eyes and said in a guilty voice:

“You
know, I wanted to tell you something. I hope you’ll understand… I’m not flying
out with you two, Isaac. I’ll come back, but not straight away. Michelle’s
waiting there for you, and Vicky. You won’t have any time for me right now
anyway. And I want to breathe the air here for a while. I’m absolutely loaded
now. Yesterday I went into a Harley Davidson store and there was this real
blast of a machine in there! I want it. Since I am in the States and I am rich,
I’m going to buy that beauty and ride right across America. I can even meet the
local boys and ride with them for a while, I’ll drop into Chicago and Vegas.
I’m sure you understand, little bro. It’s an old dream of mine, and I don’t
want to put it off any longer. Future is unpredictable, you know.”

Isaac
gave Bikie a hug.

“Good
luck, Bikie. I’ll tell you honestly, I will miss you. Hanging with you was cool
and a lot of fun. Stay here, of course, I understand. And while you are at it,
you can hide Link’s legacy somewhere good and safe.” Isaac handed Bikie the
hack and the copy of the database.

“Good
luck to you too, Isaac. Of course, hanging with you was pretty boring, not
heavy, but…” Bikie smiled. “Ah, to hell with these wisecracks! Of course, it
was awesome! I’m even sorry it is over!”

The
guys hugged each other again and walked off in different directions.

Isaac
looked out the plane window. He had changed the world irreversibly. After this,
Collective Mind would be a matter for the police; let them now deal with the
Agency, and the millions of Veggies all around the world. Isaac’s team had
produced what was most important: enough evidence to put an end to the whole
thing.

He
recalled the news reports: the amazement and horror of the newly awoken
Happies, the bewildered policemen, Professor Link, the spokesman of UNICOMA.
Many of the former Happies wept, some from happiness and joy, others from grief
at losing years of their lives.

Yes,
the world will become more dangerous, but it will be itself again, the stars
will come back to the sky and hits to music. The best minds would now
understand the true value of their lives. After their fortunate rescue, they
would never again agree to become Happies. It was as if some huge plane had
crashed and everyone had survived. They had all been given a second chance, and
they won’t blow it.

It
was good that Pellegrini was on top of everything. Let them decide what to do
now when and where to summon Isaac, Bikie and the main witnesses Pascal and
Link. How everything would be done, through an urgent session of the UN itself
or some other international organization, was none of Isaac’s concern. The
important thing was that COMA and downloading would be stopped forever.

Isaac
felt a lot better. Vicky would soon be completely well.  Recalling his rating,
he thought that they had given him five stars for a reason. In a year at most,
he will earn money from his invention and buy a decent place to live because he
couldn’t hang about at Wolanski’s place forever. Isaac felt different, new
somehow new and free: from being a talented but unsuccessful inventor, he had
become a self-assured individual. In the last few months, he had acquired some
remarkable friends, one of whom he had brought back from the past by plucking
him out of the quagmire of the “time machine.” But the most important thing was
that he had won. And his victory made him worthy of a girl he would never even
have dared to approach: the beautiful Michelle Blanche.

He
was not worried about Link’s sinister prophecies because he was just an old
man, protecting his creation with his head off. Not a single idiot will come
back to Unicoma, that’s for sure. Maybe he was right and this type of
artificial intellect was the safest. But did people need it? The world had been
living without it, well, yes, dying from diseases, but advancing. Freedom is
more valuable than a warm bath. You get tired of the warm bath one day. The
idea is to have goals and chances to achieve them so let people make their
choice. Isaac caught himself still mentally arguing with the Professor, which
made him feel a little uneasy. “Inquisitors, war” were those words that firmly
stuck in his head, like a splinter.  No, the person who gives you your choice
back can’t be considered inquisitor, by no means. “Wars for different spiritual
values” was very well phrased. That was what happened between him and the
Professor.

“Well,
after all, we won,” he thought feeling tired of these thoughts. Soon he fell
asleep.

***

Somewhere
on the top floor of a Manhattan skyscraper, in the setting of a luxurious
penthouse, the artist Andrei Sharov, an ex-Veggie, was sitting on a hugely
expensive sofa. He felt like having a drink but there wasn’t anything. He sat
there, turning his head stupidly from one wall to another. Hanging on the walls
were high-quality reproductions of his pictures, which he remembered having
sold to the owner of a little restaurant. Lying on the tables were brightly
colored catalogs and magazines with articles extolling his talent.

A
woman he didn’t know, who said she was there to look after him, explained that
it was his apartment, and he had been living here for four years.

The
artist simply couldn’t believe that he was so rich and famous. He thought he
must have gone crazy, or it was all just some beautiful dream.