The Cure (19 page)

A thoughtful look came over Hansen’s face as he considered the best way to move the conversation forward from this point. “Everything you said before we were interrupted is absolutely true,” he began. “As far as it goes. Just having a cure isn’t enough. And approval could take a decade, even if a corporate sponsor stepped up right away based on an anonymous tip, and the FDA allowed it to happen. This is time we, as a species, probably don’t have. And you’re also right that the very people we need to cure are the ones who would refuse to take it.”

Hansen paused for several long seconds, as though not eager to continue.

“So tell me where I’ve gone wrong,” prompted Erin. “Come on, Kyle, don’t keep me in suspense.”

Hansen sighed. “Drake wasn’t planning to give them a choice.”

Erin rolled her eyes. “Okay, shoving it down the throats of millions of psychopaths won’t work either. Not that they’d identify themselves. And even if they did, and you could force them in some other way, it’s ridiculous. Unless you really do believe that Santa can visit every kid on earth in a single night.”

“There is a way,” Hansen assured her. “One whose delivery doesn’t involve chimneys. Drake has engineered a cold virus to carry the cure. A
hypercontagious
cold virus. Within a year, probably less, it will infect every man, woman, and child on earth. It’s designed to be very mild, so ninety-nine percent of the population will get nothing more from it than a runny nose and maybe sneeze for a few days. One percent of the population, however, a few weeks after being infected, will no longer be psychopathic.”

The enormity of this vision was mind-numbing. Erin’s mouth fell open and stayed there for an extended period as she wrestled with the sheer audacity and scope of the concept. “You can’t do that,” she whispered.

“Maybe
we
can’t,” he acknowledged. “But Drake and his computer, after coming up to speed on our genetic code, can. The Wraps have developed genetic engineering to a level we can’t yet begin to approach.”

Erin shook her head. “I don’t mean you can’t do that because of the technology hurdle. I mean even if you
could
do that—you
can’t
do that. My actions have breached ethics, I know that. But this would be a breach of ethics on one of the grandest scales in history.”

Hansen nodded. “Which is why Drake didn’t tell you about it. He knew you’d feel this way. Which is surprising given what you’ve been through at the hands of one of these monsters.”

Erin’s eyes widened and she visibly shrank back on the bed. The expression on Hansen’s face made it clear he regretted saying these words the instant they had come out of his mouth.

“What do you know about that?”
she demanded. “Those records are sealed.”

Hansen lowered his eyes. “Nothing is sealed when it comes to Drake and his advanced computer,” he said softly. “And I am truly sorry. I’m sorry that we abused your privacy in this way. And I’m sorry that this happened to you. I can’t even imagine. But the way you picked yourself up and recovered from this is unbelievable. Inspiring. How you could trust anyone ever again, especially a man, I’ll never know. I couldn’t in your shoes.”

Erin wasn’t sure
she
could in her shoes either, which probably explained her lack of any kind of meaningful, long-term relationship. She blamed it on her dedication to her work, and that was part of it—but there was far more to it than that …

She looked away. She felt more violated than she had in years—possibly since the incident had occurred. But she needed to shake it off. It wasn’t Kyle’s fault for reading a profile that Drake had thrust in front of him.

Or was she already going out of her way to find reasons to forgive Kyle Hansen? To minimize his part in this? Was that why Drake had sent him? Did he and his computer predict she would be attracted to Kyle’s warmth and obvious sincerity? Was Drake even more adept at manipulation than a human?

“Is that why Drake chose me to be his partner in crime?” said Erin. “Because he figured I’d have a grudge to bear? That I’d be easier to convince to ditch my principles for a cure?”

Hansen opened his mouth to answer and then closed it again. A few seconds later he said, “That’s something you’ll have to ask him. I wasn’t involved in this decision. Drake likes to keep things compartmentalized, and until recently, I had no need to know just who it was that was testing psychopaths.”

In a rush Erin realized that while it seemed in some ways that she had known Kyle Hansen forever—her libido certainly thought so—she had just met him. She had gained a strong sense of his personality, his sense of humor, and his intelligence, but she knew absolutely nothing more about him. There was so much going on she hadn’t bothered to ask him a single question about himself.

“Time out,” she said. “Before we go any further, let’s do something I should have done a while ago. You know
everything
about me. But who are
you
? And how did you get involved in this?”

Hansen smiled. “You know, it never occurred to me I hadn’t told you already. Sorry. Let me give you the short version. I’m a physicist. Thirty years old. Single. Currently unattached,” he added, and as soon as he did a look of disbelief came over his face. “I’m not sure how my relationship status made it into a CliffsNotes summary of my entire life,” he said in embarrassment. “Must just be a Facebook-generation thing.”

Erin’s heart had picked up speed at this indication of interest on his part, so unsubtle even he was surprised it had come out of his mouth. “Right,” she said with an amused twinkle in her eye.

“I grew up in the Midwest. Indianapolis, Indiana, to be exact. My father was a mathematician and my mother a nurse, and I have two older brothers. Grew up loving science and science fiction. Completed my undergraduate at Purdue, and then went on to do graduate work in computer science and physics at Carnegie Mellon University in Pittsburgh. Working on making advances in quantum computing.”

“That’s an interesting coincidence given what you’ve told me about Drake’s magic computer.”

“Not a coincidence. That’s how I found him. I had a theory about how to isolate quantum events. If I was right, my theory predicted a certain type of quantum pattern when I searched a particular…” He stopped himself in midsentence. “Unless you’ve spent years studying physics this isn’t going to mean much to you. So let’s just use the word
spectrum
for simplicity’s sake, even though this isn’t technically correct. I had a theory for how to identify certain quantum spectra and what this might mean. My thesis advisor, who was British, thought my ideas were
rubbish
.”

“They have such a beautiful way with words over there, don’t they?”

Hansen laughed. “He had some other choice words as well—this was just the nicest. Anyway, I went on to find what my theory predicted I would find—but more organized, and while still at vanishingly small levels, a far clearer signal than I had expected. When I plugged these results into my theory, it suggested a quantum computer was operating. Not the fledgling attempts we were currently making, but a far more sophisticated version.”

“What did your advisor say to that?”

“That it was more rubbish. He said it was obviously an artifact. To him, this was even greater proof I was wrong. After all, for me to be right, a quantum computer had to be operating. And we were decades away from something on that level. In fact, the one we were working on at CMU was the most advanced in the world.”

“He didn’t immediately jump to the conclusion it was an alien design?” said Erin, rolling her eyes. “Talk about lack of imagination.”

“Exactly,” said Hansen with a smile. “Anyway, long story short, I was stubborn. I was able to localize the source to…”

He stopped as though considering what he should say next, and there was something about his expression that made Erin believe there was more to his story than he was telling. On the other hand, this was the abbreviated version, after all, so this was to be expected.

“To Yuma,” he finished. “So I went there and began looking for a source. And I kept digging. Drake took notice. Finally he brought me into the fold. I left the graduate program and my old life behind, and removed myself from the grid. For the past four years I’ve been working with him, and learning quantum physics well beyond what human science has achieved.”

Erin realized so much was going on that she hadn’t really internalized just how monumental it was, how epoch-making, for humankind to finally have unambiguous proof, not just of alien life, but of intelligent alien life—although she still needed to verify for herself just how unambiguous this proof really was. But assuming it was true, it would change the course of human thought forever. She remembered reading a quote from a famous scientist, she couldn’t remember who, speculating about intelligent life in the universe, that was particularly apt to this situation:
Sometimes I think we’re alone. Sometimes I think we’re not. In either case, the thought is staggering
.

“You mentioned you read a lot of science fiction,” said Erin.

“That’s right.”

“I imagine it has to be a thrill to know what this part of the galaxy is really like. To know we aren’t alone. To know that seventeen civilizations exist out there.”

Hansen nodded, and a euphoric glow spread over his face. “I feel like the luckiest man in the world.”

“So how many people work with him, besides you?”

“Indirectly, several dozen. Directly, just me, and only because I forced myself on him. He couldn’t risk that I would keep pressing, trying to get others to take my theory seriously. He knew he might be discovered if I succeeded, so he decided he had to take me on. More as damage control than anything else.”

“So what’s your role?”

“Well, I learn quantum physics and help in any way I can. Which usually involves interacting with other humans, like his security detail, so he doesn’t have to take this risk.” Hansen grinned. “I have an easier time seeming like a normal human than he does. But not by much.”

Erin laughed. For an expert on quantum physics—whatever that really was—she thought he impersonated a human quite well.

“But Drake does have his tentacles—and I do mean tentacles—into a lot of pies,” continued Hansen. “He’s working with a number of people he doesn’t tell me about. As I said, he likes to keep things compartmentalized. Humans are less trustworthy than any species in the Seventeen, so he makes no exceptions in maintaining an ultra-paranoid level of secrecy and security. And that includes me. As integral as I am to his organization in many ways, information is still on a need-to-know basis.”

“So you knew he had someone testing different dosage combinations, but you didn’t know who?”

“Exactly. Drake is dedicated to seeing that we survive and mature and become part of the diversity of galactic civilization. But maintaining absolute anonymity is vital. So he takes the fewest possible chances.”

There was silence in the room as Hansen allowed Erin to ponder all he had told her.

“So is our time out over?” he said finally. “Did I give you at least some sense of who I am?”

“You mean beyond your relationship status?” she said dryly.

Hansen winced. “Uh-huh.”

“Yes, you did. That helped a lot.”

“Good,” said Hansen. “So let’s get back to the main topic. Eradicating psychopathy forever. Drake predicted it would take some effort to persuade you. Despite…” He stopped, realizing he was about to make the same mistake he had made earlier, bringing up her tragic past.

He visibly switched gears. “Explain to me your ethical issues with this. Let’s forget for a moment that taking this step is necessary to save the entire species from self-destruction. I do get how it’s unethical to cure someone without their consent. But these are
psychopaths
. It seems like they and the world would be far better off—again, even if the stakes weren’t what they are.”

“I’ve done more thinking about this over the past few years than you can imagine,” said Erin. “You do realize that as horrific as these people are, the ones who end up being serial killers are the tip of the tip of the iceberg. All psychopaths are monsters without souls, I’ll give you that. And they typically do leave a trail of shattered lives behind them. But many haven’t been
convicted
of any crimes.”

“You emphasized the word
convicted.
So you’re saying they’ve all committed them, it’s just that most don’t get caught?”

“Pretty much. There is plenty of corruption out there that people get away with. And if it’s bad in this country, it’s far worse in many others.” She paused. “But you’re changing the personalities and brain structure of people who,
technically,
haven’t done anything wrong. They probably have or will, but they haven’t been convicted. And with Drake’s virus they aren’t given a choice. My dean thought using a device to remotely identify psychopaths was like being the thought police, or the pre-crime unit. But this is the ultimate manifestation of that. The virus would be judge, jury, and—well, not executioner. But let’s say—remodeler.”

Kyle Hansen nodded, deep in thought, but remained silent.

“And this is where it gets really tricky,” she continued. “Curing a Jeffrey Dahmer just might be a crueler punishment than imprisonment. Psychopaths in prison are relatively content. They love themselves and never doubt anything.” She looked away. “But recently I witnessed a number of the prisoners I cured. And it’s made me question all of my thinking. I work with the most violent offenders. I’ve come to see that being cured is the ultimate curse for them. They suddenly have a conscience—for the first time. Imagine if I slip you a pill that turns you into a berserker and you savagely kill your wife and kids. Then you wake up and return to normal. For the rest of your life you’d have to live with the memory of killing those who were the closest to you.”

She waited for him to consider this and she could tell that imagining this scenario was making an impression on him.