Authors: Greg Krehbiel
The riots that had forced the government out of its intrusive, paternalistic ways, Jeremy recalled from his history lesson, were over computer security. No one had felt that their privacy, or property, was secure because so much information flowed over the world-wide computer network, and there were too many cases of information piracy. At the same time, everyone knew the military had encryption routines that secured vital information, and when the New Congress convened for the first time, they made that technology available to everyone. Ever since then, security on the hole was the unquestioned operating assumption of Society. Hackers tried to break into the system from time to time, but they always failed. The encryption seemed fool-proof.
That was the assumption, anyway.
But what about these ghosts?
He could only see them in his left eye, which had to mean that they were somehow connected to his connection to the hole, and that might mean that the network was not as secure as everyone believed. But why did he see them at all? What were they?
He was shooting in the dark. He simply had to know more about the technology of the implants, and Hanna's friend MacKenzie seemed like the natural choice. Hanna said she was a genius with computers, especially communications systems. But could he trust her? Should he let someone else in on his secret? What if she turned him in?
As he finished his last lap, he decided he had no choice.
I have to trust somebody.
*
*
*
Exercise was exactly the right thing for him. Meeting Dr. Berry, the doctor who had the power to commit him to an institution, in the Armory and Alehouse pub, where a short time before he'd been harassed by a phantasm, might have been a test of his mettle. But after a couple hundred meters in the water, he felt clean and refreshed, and he had that comfortable, slightly tired feeling in his muscles that followed exercise. It put a confidence in his stride that ghosts and doctors couldn't easily shake.
A waiter brought the complimentary tray of bread and cheese to their table, and Dr. Berry had ordered a bottle of wine and two glasses.
"Busy day?" Jeremy asked.
"Always," she said. "If it's not patients its research, or speaking engagements, or little annoying things, like renewing the lease on the office."
"I'm sorry to put you out, then, making you come all the way over here."
She shook her head. "Washington's still a small town, and I have to get out some time. Besides, I have to keep up with my patients, and this is the most dangerous time for implant psychosis. You're doing very well learning how to use the implant, but some of the data I've been getting concerns me."
"Like what?"
"You've been under a lot of stress, and you've been overly excited the past few days. Especially earlier today -- a couple hours ago. Sometimes those readings can be a bad sign." She paused for a moment to read his face. "So what's been bothering you?"
Jeremy laughed. He tried to make it sound natural, but it felt contrived.
"I thought I'd already had my psychoanalysis for the day."
"And I noticed that you resisted it."
"People from the Community like their privacy."
"Even with their doctors? You're not doing yourself a favor if you don't let me know what I need to know to help you."
Jeremy shook his head. "Who says I need help? You're acting as if it's a foregone conclusion that I'm going to get this 'implant psychosis.' I thought it was rare."
"It is. Perhaps you don't remember, but you do have an enlargement in the occipital region of your brain."
"I do. I also remember being told it wasn't a problem." He didn't say that he'd also checked it out in the literature, and found absolutely nothing to indicate a connection with implant psychosis.
"It probably isn't," she admitted without meeting his gaze. Her face showed suppressed concern, but she shrugged and took another piece of cheese. "If you don't trust me, there's not much I can do for you."
"It sounds to me like the shoe's on the other foot. You don't believe me when I say that I'm doing fine."
"It's not out of the blue, you know. I can access your implant while you're in diagnostic mode, and the data I'm getting concerns me. And it's even more of a concern that you're developing an attitude."
Ah. The last refuge of the manipulative woman.
Jeremy knew there was no response to that charge. Any conceivable response would be cast as confirmation of his 'attitude.'
He took another sip of wine and waited for her to take the next step.
"You're playing a dangerous game here, Jeremy," she said after a minute, with clear signs of irritation. "You're beginning to show classic signs of implant psychosis, and the longer you wait, the worse it will get. If you trust me -- if you let me take you back to the office and run the tests I need to run -- then we can catch it in time, and you'll do just fine. But if you continue with this passive-aggressive attitude, things will just go from bad to worse, and then I won't be able to help you."
Jeremy smiled and took another sip of wine.
"More?" he asked, offering to refill her glass. She scowled, but then turned her gaze away and seemed to be listening to a message. She sat up straight as her eyes flickered about.
"They need me. I have to get back to the office. But don't forget what I've said. I think you ought to reconsider your course."
*
*
*
Once she left, he sat back in his seat and took a deep breath. A faint smile struggled for mastery with an expression of weariness. Through drooping eyelids he watched the light of the lamp sparkle through the deep red wine as he swirled it in the glass. He also noticed that his hand was shaking slightly.
His implant startled him out of morose self-reflection.
From Hanna. Hi Jeremy. Remember me? MacKenzie and I are bored. Can you meet us?
He shook his head and sat up straighter in his chair.
To Hanna. Chat mode requested,
he sent.
Accepted.
Your timing couldn't be better,
he sent.
My schedule just freed up and I'm wondering what to do. What did you have in mind?
MacKenzie wants to go skating. I want to watch a movie. How about you?
Neither of those options had the slightest appeal to him. His mind was consumed with questions about the phantasms, and this might be his best chance, although it would require letting Hanna and MacKenzie in on his story. If he could sit down and talk with them for a while, maybe he could make sense of everything that had happened to him in the last few days.
Actually, this may sound boring, but I've got something on my mind.
He remembered Hanna's offer to help him adjust to Society.
It has to do with the implant. Would you and MacKenzie mind talking me through it? I'll buy you a drink, or we can get an ice cream or something.
Just a minute,
she replied, and then continued a moment later.
There's a great chocolate bar at 11th and Massachusetts. Can you meet us there?
A chocolate bar is a place? I thought it was a kind of candy.
It's both. It's a bar, you know, like ... a bar, but they serve chocolate in just about every way you can imagine. As long as you don't make me eat a sausage for breakfast, I can budget the calories.
Jeremy grinned. Hanna wasn't close to having a weight problem.
I'll meet you there in ten minutes, but I've got one or two things to do, so do you mind if I turn off the chat mode?
No. See you soon.
Chat mode discarded by remote host.
*
*
*
Looking at the evening sky brought Jeremy a sense of calm. The fading light promised to hide him in a blanket of darkness. Childhood ghosts grew more fearsome at night, but he had a feeling that the ghosts that had been following him needed the light to see. He might not have believed that if he had thought it through, but he wasn't thinking now, he was just walking and allowing his mind to wander in nothingness as his body enjoyed the cool breezes of a Spring evening.
He pulled his thoughts back to the present when he turned the corner onto Massachusetts Avenue and saw a row of retail establishments. They were all one- and two-story enterprises that comprised the bottom floors of the traditional 13-floor, D.C. office building. A series of old-fashioned wooden signs hung from the eaves. The one he wanted stood out by its plainness. Amidst oranges and purples and bright greens, the sign for the chocolate bar was chocolate brown, and bore in white letters the name of the place. It was, literally, The Chocolate Bar.
The restaurant was divided into a self-service facility for carry-out and an eat-in area with waiters. Everything sparkled clean and bright, reminding him of pictures he had seen of old-fashioned soda fountains. The tiled floor, the metal hand railings, the white tables and red chairs all gleamed to a polished perfection. A quick scan uncovered no robots, but it had to be their work. Jeremy couldn't imagine that human hands could make a place look so immaculate.
"Hi Jeremy," Hanna called from a table near the center of the eating area. She and MacKenzie rose to greet him, although MacKenzie timidly hung back a little, somewhat unlike her manner in class, or at lunch.
Does she think she's on Hanna's turf?
Jeremy greeted them both warmly and took a seat on a three-legged stool.
"So what's good?" he asked, speaking to the ceiling as he called up the bar's hole address and accessed the menu.
When all the orders were placed they fell into an easy chit-chat. Jeremy felt suddenly light-hearted. The cheery surroundings, the company -- they recalled his school days. His dad always told him it was important to be a fun date, and he began to realize how much he craved simple, friendly time with people about his own age.
The orders arrived remarkably quickly and they started right in. Hanna ordered a chocolate fudge cake, MacKenzie a thick bar of slightly warmed dark chocolate, which she ate with a fork, and Jeremy tried out the thick malted milkshake, complete with a motor-driven straw. After the novelty of the straw wore off, he began to notice the flavor of the shake. It was the best thing he'd tasted in his life.
Hanna and MacKenzie both offered him a bite of their desserts, but although sharing a dish with one woman might be romantic, just swapping food around the table didn't appeal to him.
"So what's on your mind, Jeremy?" Hanna asked as a bus boy took their empty dishes and a waiter poured steaming coffee into gleaming white, porcelain cups.
Jeremy looked down at the table to gather his thoughts. His suddenly serious expression took Hanna and MacKenzie by surprise. "Actually," he said, "I have some important things to ask you both about, but first I need to ask some computer-related questions. Do you mind?" He looked back and forth at both of them, but they all knew MacKenzie was the computer expert. Hanna pointed to MacKenzie with her open hand, as if to say, "ask her."
Jeremy rubbed his eyes as if the afternoon's headache was returning just by thinking about it again.
"Okay, as I understand it," he began, "everybody's implant is connected to a network of millions of computers, and all the implants and computers are tied together by a zillion communications links."
"I won't vouch for the numbers, but go on," MacKenzie said.
Jeremy shrugged and grinned. "Okay. So when I send something over the net, my message goes to some computer somewhere, the computer gives a reply, and that information is sent back to my specific address, to my implant, which formats the information in whatever mode I've selected, ... visual, or whatever."
"Keep going," MacKenzie said approvingly.
"Question number one. Everything I see in my implant is on my desktop. Is it possible to see things from off the hole that appear in your normal field of view -- not on the desktop at all?"
"What have you been reading?" she asked with some surprise. "Just today I read about some really advanced work on that very subject. You see, the early implants had a tendency to get mixed up with people's regular vision. In the left eye anyway. But it was all cloudy and hazy and confusing, and gave people horrible headaches, so they had to move everything into a very limited frame -- what we know now as a desktop. But somebody's been re-evaluating that question, and there have been some breakthroughs."
"Frankly, I think it would be an irritation," Hanna chimed in. "I like keeping things on the desktop."
"You wouldn't say that if you'd seen some of the simulations. It's really amazing what they might be able to do with this. Just ...."
Hanna reached over and took her hand to cut her off.
"I think Jeremy has a couple more questions for you. You can tell us the geek stuff later, okay?"
MacKenzie tried to scowl, but a smiled peeked through at the corners. She looked back at Jeremy.
"Question number two," he said. "Could one of those computers send me some visual information that I didn't request?"