VORTEX AND TAKAYASU
The driver opened the door, and Steve stepped out of the limousine and looked around. When was the last time he’d visited the company grounds? It wasn’t really allowed after the changeover, so it
must
have been at least three or four years. The main building was unobtrusive and (
"to be honest, Dad, a little ..."
) plain. Spread out by about fifty to a hundred yards each, several smaller buildings surrounded the headquarters. The grounds were largely covered with asphalt, which reflected the sun’s heat in a bright glare in Steve’s thermal sight, a glare that did not and could not actually inhibit his vision. He switched back to normal viewing and addressed Alan. "Where to?"
"To your left," Alan answered from the other side of the limo. "We’ve a number of tests to run, and there’s another new development I want to introduce to you."
Steve grunted an acknowledgment and headed for the nearest doors. The building reminded him of an aircraft hanger, with tall, concrete walls and a high steel roof. He grasped the handle and entered. The interior was dimly lit, but his eyes adjusted instantly. He saw a great deal of empty space in the center, with diverse equipment against one of the walls. A black woman stood by the various apparatuses, glancing over her shoulder at his entrance before returning her full attention to one of the monitors. Alan was taking care of the limo, so Steve strode to her side of the large room.
"Hello," he said when he drew closer. She turned to him again, and he extended his hand. "Steve Davison."
She smiled and accepted his offered handshake. She was an attractive woman, with short hair, a petite frame, and a nice smile. Steve guessed she was in her mid-forties.
"Ardette Blounts," she said. "I was terribly upset by what happened to your father, to your family. And I think it’s very
fitting
that
you
are our implant recipient."
"Yes," Steve said, forcing neutrality onto his face. "And thank you." He had a feeling one of the toughest parts of the time he’d be spending here would be the cloying condolences from others. He would just have to keep reminding himself that they meant well, and that they cared for his father enough that many of them were potentially risking their careers, or maybe even time in prison, by helping him in secret. If the PCA found out, there would be hell to pay.
"Are you ready, Steve?" Alan asked as he joined them.
"And willing," Steve said. Removing his jacket, he added, "I guess we’ll see about ‘able’ soon enough."
"I have confidence in you, Steve," Alan said. He removed his own jacket and rolled his sleeves up to the elbow.
"I have standard targets set up across the bay," Ardette told Alan. "And two reinforced blocks for the vortex test."
"Very good," Alan said. Steve caught just a hint of warmth in their exchange. A relationship? "All right, Steve, we’ll try your lasers first." Reaching onto a shelf, he collected the now-familiar eye-band and walked over to Steve ...
After the initial programming, he stepped back. "Okay, Steve, face the steel blocks in the middle of the bay and pick one."
Resting on risers some twenty yards away, the blocks were about two feet wide and three feet tall. Steve randomly selected one just off center. Without looking away from it, he gave Alan a thumbs-up.
"In the same way that you change light spectrums, think ‘laser.’"
Steve followed Alan’s instructions. After a moment, the letter "L" literally appeared in front of him, then quickly changed into the cross-hairs of a target sight. Guided by his mere focusing, the sight settled in front of the chosen target.
"Got it."
"Now
fire
," Alan ordered.
Steve pushed, and twin, red beams sliced through the air and into the block. The block sizzled, smoke rising from the metal, and the lasers slowly burned through it. By the time they reached the far wall, their power was diminished beyond cutting through to the outside. The lasers maintained their flow until Steve relaxed.
"Excellent," Alan applauded, grinning ear-to-ear.
"It took more effort than I expected," Steve commented.
"That’s a safety feature," Ardette explained. She turned away from her monitors to speak to him. "We’ve configured your implants to minimize the possibility of accidental firing. Likewise, your weapons will always discharge at
minimum
power unless urged to a higher level. Your lasers could have easily destroyed that entire block instantly, but you’ll want to work up to that. Also, your weapons will
not
function when your eyes are closed — you’ll never have to worry about firing them in your sleep, and you can blink freely during their use without damage to your eyelids."
"Thanks. I was going to
ask
about that," Steve said with a grin. "Alan, how are these things
powered
?" He tapped his temple. "And I don’t just mean the eyes. Where did the
energy
for those lasers come from?"
"The eyes themselves — their basic functions and non-weaponry features — are powered by twin packs just underneath your frontal lobes. They’re a significantly compact, light-weight, and advanced new design based on the plutonium-two-thirty-nine oxide frequently used for pacemakers—"
"Woah, hold on a minute," Steve cut in. "Are you telling me I’ve got radioactive isotopes
in my head
?"
"They’re perfectly safe, Steve," Ardette assured him.
"They’ve been using them for
decades
for heart patients," Alan agreed. "And these are perfectly shielded, so you’ll experience no problems with microwave ovens or—"
"But what if they’re
ruptured
?"
"There would be the danger of radiation leakage," Alan admitted, "but then, the only way that could happen is if the front of your
skull
were shattered or punctured. Under those circumstances..."
"... I probably won’t be around to
worry
about the leakage," Steve concluded. "All right, I see your point." He wasn’t
comfortable
with the idea, but he supposed he would get used to that in time, just like a heart patient. "You said they power the ‘non-weaponry.’ That doesn’t explain the lasers."
"That’s ..." Now Alan looked a little hesitant, which made Steve even
more
uneasy, as Alan had popped off about the plutonium without any reluctance. "That’s where we had to get a little ...
creative
."
"Sounds encouraging," Steve grumbled sarcastically.
"The plutonium packs help with some of the initial charge, but not much — with luck, we hope to never worry about changing them out. The rest of the energy is charged and retained in energy cells throughout the implant structure. Almost every part of your mechanical eyes are capable of energy storage. It’s
very
efficient."
"Uh-huh. And where does this efficiently stored energy come
from
, Alan?"
Alan glanced at Ardette, perhaps for help. If so, he didn’t get it, as she suddenly found her clipboard absolutely fascinating. "From
you
, Steve."
"...
excuse
me?"
"The human body generates more bio-electricity than a one-hundred-twenty-volt battery and twenty-five-thousand BTUs of body heat—"
"I know. I saw
The Matrix
. Are you telling me you’ve turned that science-fiction bullshit into a
real
science?"
"It wasn’t really ‘science-fiction’ even back
then
, Steve, and it was
never
‘bullshit,’ but ...
yes
, we’ve turned it into
practical
science."
"What will it
do
to me?"
"There are
no
long-term side-effects," Ardette insisted. "You
will
feel the effects during extended use of your weapons. The implants can charge to full capacity in less than twenty minutes. At that point, you’ll be able to emit a five-second burst of your lasers, as you did just now, at minimum power levels. The same goes for a three-second vortex wave. But if you fire these weapons again before full recharge, or push them up to higher power levels, you’ll feel the drain."
"Meaning
what
, exactly?"
"It’ll tire you out." Ardette said it with a shrug, and Steve sensed that she was stressing the simplicity of the situation rather than blowing him off.
"That’s one of the reasons I felt you’d make an excellent choice for this venture, Steve," Alan insisted. "You’re in superb physical condition. I know you’ll be able to handle it."
"That’s easy for you to say, Alan. I just learned that my new eyes are
radioactive leeches
." The sharp tone lowered Alan’s gaze. "You should have told me
before
, Alan."
"Steve ... if you’re having second thoughts about this ..."
"No," Steve sighed. "I’ll just ... need time to adjust to all of this."
"Of course."
Steve glanced across the bay at the practice targets. "Can we continue this a little later? I think I’d like to visit my dad’s office, if that’s all right."
"Sure, Steve. No problem. Just be sure to keep your ID badge with you at all times. Do you remember the way?"
"Yeah." Steve picked up his jacket and started to walk off. "Oh. Didn’t you mention some ‘new development’ you wanted to show me, Alan?"
"Yes, but ... it can wait."
Steve stood silently for a moment. He really
did
want to retreat into himself for a while, but he was already feeling bad for snapping at Alan — and Ardette, whom he had just met, no less — and he knew that Alan had been exceedingly patient so far. "Will it take long?"
"Not really, no. I just want you to take a look at something."
"Go ahead."
Moving quickly, Alan produced a box from underneath Ardette’s work table. "As good as your eyes are, we can’t forget the rogues’
own
dangerous abilities. To help insure your safety, we’ve created
this
." The box top was off and from within Alan produced a creme-colored fabric. He lifted it out and handed it to Steve.
Steve examined the material carefully. It
looked
like thermal underwear with much smaller pores, but it felt noticeably heavier. "What is it?"
"The closest comparison I can give you," Ardette answered, "is
micro-chainmail
."
Steve looked at her. "Really?" It felt heavy, but not anywhere near
that
heavy.
"Closest comparison," she reminded him. "It’s designed to diminish concussive force, energy, or even heat or cold much more effectively than Kevlar armor. For example, if exposed to fire, the outside’s temperature would inevitably rise, but the inside could maintain body temperature for a short period of time."
"Mmm." Steve looked at the material, ran his fingers over it. A stray thought, some free-floating idea danced through his mind. The possibilities for this material were
perfect
for ... but no, he wasn’t in the mood to think about that right now. "It’s very impressive," he told them, letting the idea go with a mental shrug. "Congratulations. I’m sure it’ll be extremely helpful in the fight against the rogues." When he finished speaking, he thought back on his words and cringed at how forced and two-dimensional they sounded.
Oh, well.
"Now," he said, dropping the material back into the box, "if you’ll excuse me ..."