Veil (14 page)

No how, no way
buckos
, he told
them.

However, he could promise them some kind of
handheld device that was able to extract and insert—or download and
upload, respectively—neuroelectricity. He was certain he could
devise such a contraption. He simply reiterated the notion that he
couldn’t fathom
why in baby Jesus’ diaper
anyone would ever
want to do such a thing. Sure, one could use a device to extract
someone’s neuroelectricity, store it
,
and
then at some point in the future insert it back onto his or her
brain. But … why—oh—why—in the fuck, why? Perhaps they didn’t
accurately describe what they needed? Or perhaps they needed a
nap?

Or was the whole thing like
Punk’d
or
some shit?

Am I on Punk’d?

Hunter pretended to scan the room for a
hidden camera. He peered behind the water-cooler and pried the
bottom of the whiteboard from the wall a bit, enough to peek behind
it. The two science officers didn’t know what to make of the
man.

Pollock sneered at Schaffer with one eyebrow
raised.

This is Hunter Kennerly, bro?

Schaffer wanted to throw a chair at Pollock’s
face, simply from the look alone. Well, and because he was Pollock.
His face seemed designed for the sole purpose of having things
thrown at it.

After they emphasized that, yes, what they
described was exactly what they needed, Hunter repeated himself.
Yeah, it was
possible
. It would leave the person whose
neuroelectricity was extracted in a state equivalent to an engine
running on idle. Sure it was running, Hunter said, but nothing was
going anywhere and the person would probably experience some kind
of deep, dreamless sleep-type state during that time.

He added how the person would need to be
hooked up to some kind of life-support and provided at least some
artificial neuroelectricity until theirs could be restored.
According to Hunter, a person could have undetectable neuroelectric
activity and still not be considered brain dead. So, as long as
they had blood flow to the brain and minimal neuroelectricity
sustaining them, there shouldn’t be too much risk or damage.

Hopefully
.

If they wanted the device, he could make it.
He told them all it would have to do is extract neuroelectricity
and store it in such a way that it could retain its exact pattern
so later it could be reinserted and correctly applied onto the
brain. He added how, with considerably more time and money, he
could probably create one that extracted neuroelectricity,
memorized the pattern, compacted it all and then reassembled the
pattern on the fly during discharge, not unlike an embroidery
machine. Schaffer and Pollock conferred with each other and then
asked Hunter which kind of device would be smaller: the one that
retained the exact shape of the neuroelectrical pattern or the one
that simply memorized it.

“The one that memorized it would be smaller.
It would require more circuitry and programming, but it would be
much smaller. It would probably resemble a Taser,” he speculated.
“Instead of merely extracting and storing electricity it would
collect neuroelectricity, memorize its pattern, condense it all
down, and later upload it back onto the brain in that same
pattern.”

Schaffer and Pollock thanked Hunter and told
him that they would work with him starting the next day to begin
designing such a device. They summoned a serviceman to escort
Hunter to General Coffman’s office and then afterwards to his
accommodations
.

After Hunter left, Schaffer and Pollock
remained in the lab. They stared at some of the diagrams Hunter
drew on the whiteboard.

“Why does it feel like we’re missing
something?” Pollock wondered out loud.

“I’m sitting here asking the same thing,”
Schaffer confessed.

Neither could understand how something
seemingly so complex and profound could be reduced to a contraption
the size of a stun gun. Surely there was something else to Veil;
some process that occurred in Tsay’s huge mainframes, which took up
an entire room
.
There had to be something
they weren’t considering. If it was that simple and could be done
with one little handheld device, how was it never done before? How
was it never considered before? How could it all be that simple?
And the size of a friggen Taser.

Maybe they were upset someone could come in
and not only easily solve a problem that seemed overwhelming to
them but also suggest they were both idiots for thinking they could
do what they were wanting to do in the first place. Schaffer and
Pollock looked at each other and in that moment they felt like
equals.

Schaffer shuddered and promptly exited the
conference room.

“Your dad was a what … ummm a…” General
Coffman started before he had to refer back to the paperwork he was
reviewing. “A Lieutenant Commander. In the Navy.”

“Sir, he was, sir,” Hunter nodded.

“Retired now,” the General read on.

“Yes
,
sir
.
He and my mother live up in
Washington.” Hunter suddenly remembered where he was and added,
“The state, sir.”

“Get along with them?”

“Yes
,
sir. Both.
Pop’s my best bud,” Hunter lied. His father was an abusive,
power-hungry, homophobic whiskeyoholic. In other words, a lot of
fun. Lots and lots of fun. About as fun as Hunter’s entire
childhood. Oh, happy happy, joy joy.

“Been reviewing your file.” The General
continued to thumb through the results of the clearance Schaffer
fast-tracked. “Eagle Scout, Order of the Arrow, graduated
valedictorian from Georgetown, then a graduate program at MIT,
doctorate from Caltech, stayed loyal to them and still working
there. Published, awarded, well respected. No detectable
participation in any Socialist liberal bullshit Occupy movements,
no criminal record, no abnormal violent tendencies. No delinquency.
No faggotry.”

“Well, I might look nice and nerdy on
paper
,
but don’t let it fool you. I can
still be one tough sonofabitch, sir,” Hunter assured him with the
right amount of masculine arrogance and cockiness.

The General put down the papers and laughed.
He liked the kid. Dad in the service, respectful, off-the-charts
intelligence, gritty. Dad was white, mom was black. Just like his
own marriage. Ok so far for a civilian, he figured. In fact, the
kid looked more like a soldier than a whitecoat. He was strapping,
strong. The kid resembled that Vin Diesel fella, except not
queer
.

I need to ask Lynn if that Vin Diesel fella
is a fairy.

The General thumbed in the direction of the
research building.

“And what do you make of those two?”

“Off the record, sir, Pollock seems like a
well-intentioned buffoon and Schaffer—well Schaffer’s a
self-important faggot, sir. Excuse me for saying so.”

Hunter knew what officers thought of guys who
didn’t work their way up simply because they tested so high, went
to the academy, or were commissioned. It was the same thing the
lower ranks thought of them: they were as weak as guys who never
joined in the first place. The General was about as easy as the two
scientists. Hell, maybe easier.

The General wasn’t about to lose composure
that quickly in front of some civilian kid, although he did have to
swallow back a laugh. Shit, he thought Schaffer might be a fag a
couple of times himself.

This kid’s sharp
, he mused before he
responded.

He figured he could loosen the belt a
little.

“You’re fine,” he started—and gave Hunter
that ‘good ol’ boy’ implicit approval. “But, those are two of my
best guys, which is why they are on this project. And if they say
they need you well then, fuck it, they must need you. But keep in
mind,” he leaned forward and pointed at Hunter, “you signed a
declaration coming in here and swore to protect the safety of your
country and,” he used his other hand to tap on the sheet about
Hunter’s family, “you know what that means. All you have to do to
protect her is keep your fucking mouth shut.”

Although he had to fight back a strong,
reflexive urge to roll his eyes at such bullshit, Hunter played his
part.

“I’m not a rat. And I don’t betray heroes or
my country. When they asked me to help with the project, I knew it
was my duty. That’s how it is.”

“Damn glad to have you aboard son,” the
General approved. He stood up and reached across his desk to shake
Hunter’s hand.

“Glad to be able to help sir,” Hunter
schmoozed and shook the General’s hand with precise firmness,
because he knew the General would scrutinize it.

The General came from behind his desk and put
his arm around Hunter. The two walked toward the door. Hunter
already knew what was next. He could have set a timer and done a
fucking countdown for it. It’s what they all said to him after he
finished his little dog and pony show that pathetically impressed
every single officer he was ever forced to tolerate.

“I’m surprised you didn’t follow in the
Lieutenant Commander’s footsteps.”

And there it is!

Rather than say how he was out having too
much fun doing drugs and sucking dick, he went with the old
standard.

“Bad heart.” Hunter frowned and tapped his
chest with his left index finger. “Congenital.”

“Say no more, son,” the General replied with
genuine sympathy.

His left arm was still around Hunter’s
shoulders, so when he reached across with his right hand to shake
again, Hunter had to wiggle his arm out from between them. Hunter
shook his hand, nodded and left. The General closed the door behind
him.

Good kid
, General Coffman thought. He
grimaced at his next thought.
I’d like to let him
live
.

“It doesn’t work,” Pollock blurted out and
pointed at the device on the lab table. Schaffer was standing next
to the table and shot Pollock a look of disgust.

Huh?
was Hunter’s gut response.

They requested he meet them in the lab after
he was informed that the military canceled his flight. He was
instructed to notify his employer there’d be an indefinite delay in
his return. All that after successful tests of the device he
developed. An entire day’s worth of successful tests. It didn’t
work, his ass.

At least, that was what he tried to convey.
He attempted to muster up as much indignation as he could; he was
pretty sure they bought it. Of course he knew it didn’t work. He
wasn’t sure what they were trying to do but he knew, whatever it
was, the device in front of them wasn’t going to do it. Hunter
wasn’t lying or kidding or being dramatic when he said he didn’t
understand why anyone would ever want to download someone’s
neuroelectricity, only to upload it back onto that person’s brain
at a later time.

That was the stupidest fucking thing he ever
heard and, all things considered, he knew he wasn’t given the full
story. Still, he did what he was supposed to do and in damn
impressive time to boot, if you asked him. Nine days. Nine days
straight, mind you. Nine fucking days to come up with exactly what
they asked. Good luck finding someone else who could come close to
that kind of turnaround. Besides, it wasn’t his fault if it didn’t
work for them
,
because it did exactly what
they said it needed to do.

“It doesn’t work for our specific purposes,
he means,” Schaffer clarified but immediately realized it wouldn’t
actually be much of a clarification for Hunter.

“Uhhh—what the fuck are you talking about,
Carl? We tested it. If one of you two broke it,” Hunter raised his
voice, stared directly at Pollock
,
and
picked up the device, “that doesn’t mean it doesn’t work. It means
you fucking broke it.” Oh how Hunter just loved to act indignant
and self-righteous and angry all at once. He hoped he wasn’t
smiling.