Clean Copy

5. The Offer

5 THE OFFER

Zheng retreated behind his desk and opened a file folder. He examined the contents and seemed to be in no hurry. “Ms. Marino, you must realize your position. You have no power. You can’t really learn why your brother was killed, you have been harassed by men and have no recourse, and you are poor. I am offering to change all that. Now, you must listen patiently to what I have to say. I respect women and their contributions. They can reach objectives not accessible to men. You are here because of your background, everything in your background, including that unfortunate incident in your boss’s office about the Nicaragua file.”

“How—”

Zheng held up a hand. “We have details—names, dates, even photographs—that show how and why your brother died. We know who was responsible.”

Andy straightened at the mention of her brother. “What about my brother?”

“Patience. You think you are motivated by the simple need to know what happened. But that is not what you want. The need for justice, even revenge, drives you. We will show how the U.S. Department of Defense caused your brother’s death. You can then exact justice and revenge.”

The speaker’s words fascinated her. She was in over her head but wasn’t sure she wanted to swim to safety.

“You must perceive what vulnerable means. You are helpless facing the U.S. Army, the U.S. government, even the male hierarchy at the CIA. We offer a way to overcome your frustrating weakness. I’m offering a trade. We get your background, capability, and motivation. You get information and power.”

Zheng touched a deep truth that Andy had not realized lay within. Her frustration was rooted in her inability to avenge her brother’s death. Knowledge alone was not her quest. She wanted revenge. That was an epiphany.

“From mutual benefit flows cooperation,” Zheng said. “We work, in the last analysis, for ourselves. You must see your alternatives clearly. Either you continue as an ineffectual gnat, or you can become an irresistible pathogen.”

“Fine,” Andy said. “I get the point.”

“Another point, Ms. Marino.” Zheng opened a desk drawer, extracted a large photograph, and passed it to his guest. “This woman depends on you.”

Andy stiffened. The photo captured her mother’s vulnerability. It showed Xianxingzhe’s power—their knowledge of her mother and ability to photograph her.

“We know of your mother’s illness and her need for your financial help. Success in this task will pay handsomely.”

Andy met Zheng’s eyes.

“Good, we have an understanding.” Zheng touched a switch that activated a large flatscreen. A picture of the campus of Xianxingzhe Group appeared. “This company is an organization of great scope. Economic success makes it a surrogate for the Chinese people. I must do today what will guarantee our future, Xianxingzhe’s and China’s.” The man, whose grey business suit bulged with muscles, moved to the windows and gestured Andy to follow.

Andy looked down on neat modern buildings guarded by parking lots. Pairs of strolling workers appeared as black specks from the high perspective.

“Do you know the origin of the Xianxingzhe name, Ms. Marino?”

Andy shook her head.

“It is the name of China’s first bipedal, humanoid robot, a machine that stood one hundred forty centimeters tall, weighed twenty kilograms, and could walk two steps per second. The Chinese characters of its name mean ‘forerunner’ and signaled the beginning of robot creation by China. We were proud of that creation, that great event, but the Japanese called it Senkousha and ridiculed it, calling it a military weapon, saying the bulging plastic joints at the crotch was its cannon. They made internet games based on the crotch cannon and showed the thrusting of its hips to fire the weapon. But Xianxingzhe was a major achievement, and this company is named for that first robot. We do not intend to be ridiculed again.”

Andy analyzed the situation. Given what had been done and what she’d already heard, she doubted she could walk away. Even if she could, Chinese authorities would see nothing amiss in a company stealing technology. It was the national pastime. Her only option was to learn as much as she could. “You are truly a visionary leader, Mr. Zheng. Perhaps we can develop a mutually satisfying relationship, but I need to know exactly what you want me to do.”

Zheng gestured to the chairs. “Some research must be widely shared to ensure world stability, equal competitiveness, and peace. Tea?”

Andy nodded. “Research on what?” She suspected the references to world stability and peace were propaganda, perhaps megalomania, but she played along.

Yingyi picked up a red phone and spoke briefly in Chinese. Moments later a striking woman entered in a short-sleeved, ankle-length red dress decorated with strands of white and pink flowers at the shoulders. along one side, and at the bottom. Andy thought it both formal and serviceable. The servant set cups, tea, and almond cookies on the table between them, poured, and waited for Zheng to taste the offering. He nodded and she left.

Andy sipped tea, sampled a cookie, and waited.

Her host said, “The area is robotics, but our interest is derivative: neural recording.”

“I have no background in neurobiology.”

“We can fill the gaps in your education. Neural recording research is going on in government-sponsored laboratories because of its military potential.” Zheng put his tea down, rose, and picked up a remote. The first picture to appear on the screen, a flow diagram of the process of recording a brain, set Zheng off on the technical aspects of the project. Then he struck a somber note. “We have not come up with the biochemical scanner or the data-processing software, which depends on algorithms that balance speed and accuracy.”

Andy heard the tinge of sadness in Zheng’s voice. “What are the applications?” Andy asked.

“One word: transcription. Transfer of a human brain file into a biosynthetic brain. The resultant android would not only have its own analytical powers, but also human knowledge and relational capabilities. In sum, a superior organism.”

Andy immediately thought military. “Are you saying robot brains can absorb a human brain?”

Zheng smiled and refilled the teacups. “Precisely, Ms. Marino. It is no more difficult than inducing in sufficient neurons—or what serve as neurons in an artificial intelligence—the proper binomial state—firing or not firing.” He advanced to the next image and continued.

“If you accept that a biosynthetic brain can be programmed, you must expand your thoughts to the next step: programming the natural brain.” He let the concept hang.

Andy’s mind raced. Was this some kind of joke? Is this the evolution of brainwashing? Was it mind control by computer? Svengali with new tools?

“I see you are amazed. Now think of behavior modification. Substance abuse, s****l deviation, personal violence, criminal activity are society’s ills. If one had an accurate copy of a brain, one could modify that copy in a constructive fashion, strengthening pro-social patterns and inhibiting antisocial ones. Then the revised brain file could be returned to overwrite the original, defective copy.”

Andy finished the thought. “Thereby relieving society of the burden of controlling antisocial behavior. Freeing up valuable resources for more productive activities.”

Zheng smiled.

“Aren't you afraid of a society of ants, programmed drones?”

The smile became a grin. “You exaggerate. That is a remote danger, and the potential reward well justifies the risk.”

Andy stood and went to a window, letting silence grow. She asked, “Where do I fit into all of this? You said that this technology had necessary components that remained undiscovered, problems no one had yet solved.”

“I said we had not solved those problems.”

The implication was clear in an instant. “You mean there’s an organization somewhere capable of brain recording and transfer?” she said.

“Precisely.”

“Where? Who?”

“That is information you will have when we come to our agreement. You will procure the blueprints for the scanner and a copy of the software.”

“Why me? I have no experience in field espionage.”

“That is one of your strengths, in fact. You must penetrate an American company that has taken great security measures. For you to be hired by that company, your clean background is not only an asset, but a necessity.”

“I see. But what makes you think success is possible?”

A plane heading west from Capital Airport passed low over the Xianxingzhe Group complex and softly rattled the windows.

“The materials are well protected,” Zheng said. “But the system is not impenetrable. The weakness is people. You will identify and exploit the weakness to obtain the materials.”

Andy circled the office, her mind going over the information so suddenly dumped before her. “How does my independence and power come into this?” she asked.

Zheng paced after his guest. “You will be in charge of this operation. The items you seek are being developed under a United States Department of Defense contract. Getting them will not only strike a blow for world peace but will pierce the heart of the organization that killed your brother.”

Zheng picked up a piece of paper from his desk. “It is time to formalize our agreement. We will provide you with training and resources. When you deliver what we need, we will pay…” He pointed to a figure on the paper he put before her.

The amount staggered her. It was enough to give her mother the best care and leave plenty to make Andy a wealthy woman. She fought unsuccessfully to feign calm acceptance of the new information. “This seems commensurate with the risk I would be taking.”

“We will deposit the money in a numbered account, Miss Marino. When you have the materials, but before we take possession, you will be given access to the account to verify the balance. Then you will be allowed to change the password. Thus, our relationship is terminated, as if it never happened. Based on that fee, can we sign this agreement?”

Andy took the paper, a simple fee-for-services contract, and thought over the payment procedure. She would make sure they were in a public place in the U.S. when they made the exchange. There was really no debate left about the pros and cons of getting involved with a dangerous, illegal, albeit lucrative venture, because there was no way out. Zheng was not opposed to using force and violence. It was agree or die. Strangely, that stark choice did not disturb her. Her brother had never had a choice before he would up bleeding to death on the jungle floor. She sat in Zheng’s desk chair, a choice he eyed with a frown.

“Fine. Let's do it.”