Like Grownups Do (26 page)

“These friends of mine have, in their
off
time, developed games that will
never
be released to the public. They run only on hardware that cannot be purchased just anywhere—multiple processor arrays and multiple graphics processor arrays, all running in water-cooled systems that could protect a modified Corvette engine. The games themselves are world war conflict scenarios with the most lifelike interaction known to man and artificial intelligence capabilities that…”

Gabriel paused, breathing heavily.

“Artificial intelligence that what?” Babe asked.

“Frightens me,” Gabriel said.

“Until you have been inside one of these games and seen a computer program react as a human would—when you witness an artificial human
thinking…
until you cannot tell the difference
…
”

“I’m sorry. I have said too much already.”

Gabriel leaned forward and whispered.

“There will be no putting this genie back into the bottle, Mr. Babelton. What I am speaking of are only the capabilities of a small group of individuals inside this country. I may only guess at what capabilities exist right now throughout the world among those whose intentions stretch far beyond an entertaining Saturday night.”

“So, these people could be seen as a threat to national security?” Babe asked.

Gabriel shook his head.

“I wish that we could still think in terms of national security. In this present world, what meaning or importance do physical borders possess? Let me give you an example of where computer game development is going.

“Two weeks ago, during a game session, one player made a comment through his headset, ‘Wow. The Pentagon would eat this up. You guys are sitting on a fortune.’”

“There are two men who are the principal developers, and run the private server. They immediately shut down the game, leaving everyone’s audio channel open. After a few moments of silence, a voice said, ‘If such a statement is ever entertained again during a game session on this server, this link will be terminated. If you wish to have your life turned upside-down and inside-out, your home raided—if you wish the privacy you now enjoy to come to an end and you wish to be forever classified as a high-level security risk by every sovereign nation on this planet, you will
NOT
do so as a member of this group. Is this understood?

“Acknowledge immediately by your member name or your involvement will be immediately and permanently discontinued.’”

“Jesus,
”
Babe said.

Gabriel stood and stretched.

“Mr. Babelton, I realize that I am required to divulge my intentions. It would be unrealistic for me to believe that I could be employed otherwise.”

He sat and then moved to the edge of his seat, leaning on Babe’s desk.

“Three years ago I was contacted by one of the members of our group, a member that I knew only by his gamer tag. He sent me a private message on a highly encrypted chat line that had been set up for me by another very
gifted
friend. This got my attention.

“That contact led to my recruitment into a highly classified military intelligence unit. This is the same path that led to my exit from the United States military after two years, and my application for the FBI. As you are aware, peace on this planet has been a tightrope walk for generations. And it becomes more apparent by the day that war or peace may be determined less by guns and bullets, than by bits and bytes.”

Babe sat back in his chair and pulled down on his cheeks.

“Mr. Athas, you are indeed a mystery wrapped in an enigma. FBI Special Agent is not to be the end of your career aspirations.”

Gabriel stood again.

“Correct. I assure you that I am by no means a rogue. The position with the FBI is part of a training agenda, the endgame being preparation for—”

“Cyber-terrorism,” Babe interjected.

Gabriel had a sour look on his face.

“That phrase is more of a media invention, with its color-coded threat levels and forty-eight minute prime-time dramas. I am afraid the day has come in which the fate of our world lies more within small groups highly trained in both combat and cyber-intelligence. In the past, intelligence had to be filtered through politicians before being passed along for strategic military implementation. This strategy is no longer viable.

“We exist in an age when action must be virtually immediate, because the opposition has already adopted this model.”

“Where did breakfast come from?” Babe asked.

Gabriel stopped his pacing.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Babe said.

Gabriel clasped his hands behind his back, at-ease.

“Marie,” he said.

“Marie? Who the hell is Marie?” Babe asked.

“Marie from two blocks—” Gabriel unclasped his hands and closed one eye while looking up and around with the other. He raised his right hand, moving his index finger in one direction and then the other.

“Two blocks southeast; from your home.”

“I don’t know any Marie. But she…brought me breakfast,” Babe said.

“No,
Silly Man.
I
was walking to the bus stop when I saw her trying to load a large box into her van. I stopped and helped her. She was trying to load several large boxes on her way to a rummage sale at the same time that she was making herself breakfast. She practically insisted that I let her cook for me as well. When I declined it appeared to hurt her feelings. So, I asked her if she would mind making a plate for a friend. That seemed to cheer her up.”

Gabriel had resumed his casual posture and wandered to the wall of photos.

“And what about the print—” Babe started to ask.

“Home opener on Friday, Babe,” Gabriel said.

“With the Indians. They will have a very good team this year. Are you going?”

Babe walked across the room and joined Gabriel. The two men stood side by side in front of the baseball posters.

“My dad is coming to town the first of June,” Babe said.

“He’ll be staying about a month. We’re going to a few games. We haven’t been to a game together since ‘02. We saw three games with the Oakland A’s.”

“’02’, huh?” Gabriel said.

“Heck of a team that was. Tim Hudson—”

“Mark Mulder, Barry Zito. Man, what a pitching staff. One
hell
of a team,” Babe said.

“You ever wonder what would happen if Oakland had a competitive payroll?” Gabriel asked.

“Oh, man,” Babe said. “Game over. Just hand them the trophy on Opening Day—don’t even play the games.”

“No kidding,” Gabriel said, “If they could have added one more starter and kept those hitters?”

“Don’t even go there, man. That would be a wicked scary team,” Babe said. “I got to see Barry Zito pitch, he went twent—”

“Twenty three and
five
that year,
”
Gabriel finished the thought, ”Cy Young award. Simply incredible.”

“Incredible,” Babe said.

“I have tickets for Friday. Would you like to go?” Gabriel asked.

“Opening day. And you have an extra ticket,” Babe said.

Gabriel shrugged.

“My great-grandfather came to this country with his family’s collection of precious metals. He had a tremendous belief in the future of this country. With his fortune he invested in commercial real estate; some in downtown Manhattan. He also purchased some very productive stocks.

“While a military salary is not extravagant, I have had little to on which to spend money for the last two years. So, yes, I have two tickets for a baseball game. Should I be seated next to a very large man holding a giant container of beer, along with a giant foam finger, I will be assured of having a little wiggle room. I would be very happy to give you a ticket. You may have to sit next to the foam-finger man.”

Babe laughed.

“Why not? Hot dogs are on me.”

Gabriel stood and handed the test papers to Babe. Babe looked up, puzzled.

“You’re finished? Already?”

He looked over the test papers, front and back.

“Huh.

“That’s all for today, Mr.— Gabriel. Please schedule with Miss Gerard. This should just take one more session at this rate,” Babe said.

“Okay; tonight, then. Six-thirty, in front of the Beer Works?” Gabriel asked.

“Right. See you then.”

Babe made the necessary entries on his computer and typed out an evaluation form. Gabriel had worked through lunch and it was now approaching three thirty. Babe walked into the reception area to visit with MG before leaving for the day.

“Hi, MG. Anything new for me?”

“Jack has two new applicants to preview with me when I find time to get to his office. I was right about the Millie situation. He probably has an idea what’s up but he doesn’t want to know. He’s smart like that,” MG said.

“Did Ga—did Mr. Athas reschedule?” Babe asked.

“Next Monday at ten. You two seem to be getting along better,” MG said.

“Yeah. We’re going to the Red Sox home opener on Friday. He’s a big fan, too,” Babe said.

“Are you su— is that even—” MG started.

“What?” Babe asked.

“Never mind. Above my pay grade, Babe,” MG said.

“You think it’s like a… a conflict of interest, don’t you?” Babe asked.

“I don’t know. Just feels a little…funny, I guess.” MG said.

“I didn’t really think about it. Maybe I’m just a sucker for live baseball,” Babe said.

“Maybe you just need a friend, honey; away from work, anyway. It will be fine, I’m sure. You enjoy yourself,” MG said.

Twenty-Six

“
W
hat do you want on it?” Babe asked.

“All the way,” Gabriel answered.

“Beer?”

“Do they have lemonade?” Gabriel asked.

The cashier nodded.

“Two dogs, all the way; large lemonade and a Sam Adams.”

Refreshments delivered and distributed, Babe told Gabriel, “Lead the way.”

Babe followed Gabriel down the steps slowly, taking in the electric crowd; the sights, the sounds, the smells. The perfectly manicured field and the infamous Green Monster that loomed over them.

God, I love this place.

Down, down, down the steps they went until Babe began to suspect that something was wrong. When Gabriel stopped and waited for Babe to sit down they were on the first row behind the Red Sox dugout looking at two empty aisle seats. Babe cocked his head and looked at Gabriel. He looked at the girl in the seat next to his, who was, or could have been, a supermodel. And she didn’t have a foam finger. Babe looked back at Gabriel.

“Really?”

Gabriel smiled.

“Really.”

In the middle of the second inning Babe hailed a vendor and ordered another beer. He asked Gabriel if he wanted one. Gabriel started to decline, but then nodded.

The game was a close one. It began as a pitching duel and then turned into a slug fest. Babe and Gabriel were caught up along with the rest of their lively section. They reacted to events on the field with cheers and groans, high fives, claps and raised fists.

When the Red Sox left fielder hit a two run, walk-off home run in the ninth inning, Babe and Gabriel were on their feet with the rest of the Fenway crowd. Babe turned to high-five girl he was sitting next to. Amid the screaming and the jumping up and down, she kissed him—on the mouth.

Like grownups do, sometimes.

Babe thanked Gabriel for a great time and they parted to make their way home. Babe sat with his eyes closed on the bus when his cell rang. It was Gabriel.

“Babe?” Gabriel said.

“Yes,” Babe said.

“I don’t want to seem creepy or needy or anything, but I have tickets for Tuesday, with the Blue Jays. The Sox are on the road for two weeks after that. Can we go?” Gabriel asked.

“I had a great time tonight, Gabriel. But I’m not sure—” Babe said.

“Please?”

Well…
shit.
Babe thought.
What’s the worst that could happen?

“Why not? I’m paying you for the ticket, though. You got that?”

“If you insist, Mr. Babelton. Thanks. I will see you Monday. Good night.”

“Good night, Gabriel.”

Babe was energized when he arrived at home. Mr. Pendleton was almost turning cartwheels, so Babe took him for a walk. Winter was almost over and Babe thought that Mr. Pendleton would be able to help him drag off a few pounds before they became shut in again. The evening was brisk and the smoke of a few fireplaces scented their path.