Callsign: King - Blackout

10

Despite his stylish dinner jacket and immaculately coiffed silver hair, Graham Brown seemed no less banal a personage than he had in his first and only other encounter with King, in the remote Algerian villa where Sara Fogg had briefly been held prisoner.

Brown waited for the applause to die down before lifting the microphone and addressing the crowd. “Is everyone having fun spending my money?” he quipped, triggering a symphony of cackles and guffaws, and another round of clapping.

“Seriously folks,” he continued, sounding to King’s ear like a cut-rate stand-up comedian, “I don’t want to keep you from the festivities, but I just wanted to take this opportunity to thank you all for traveling here, from every corner of the globe, to take part in our little symposium.

“Power. It’s the reason we’re all here. And I’m not just talking about electrical energy. In times past, human society hungered for literal food, but now our greatest need is for the energy to drive our machines and our electrical devices. We have become entirely dependent on technology, and if the energy supply that makes it function were to be interrupted, it would be a disaster far worse than any famine or drought. Power, real power, belongs to those who can control the energy supply. And you, my friends, have that power.”

King listened attentively as Brown seemed on the verge of launching into a megalomaniacal diatribe, and he noticed others in the crowd murmuring uncomfortably.

“Or perhaps to put it more accurately,” Brown continued, softening his rhetoric. “You are the faithful stewards of that power. Society has entrusted the care and protection of its future to you, but make no mistake: it is a great responsibility. The power, of which I speak, does not rest with any one of us, nor with any man, nation or corporation. Nevertheless, it is something unscrupulous men might desire, and that is where we are vulnerable.

“I organized the Global Energy Future conference to call attention to this vulnerability. Our stewardship requires that we protect our trust-this great and potentially terrible power-from those who might seek to seize control for some dark purpose. As you are all doubtless aware, much of our power grid relies on early 20 ^ th century technology. The transmission of electricity through copper wires, for example, where ninety-nine percent of the energy is lost to resistance. The use of decades old computer systems for managing the grid. These are but two examples of challenges we must address if we are to meet the needs of the future.

“What we have done here this past week is merely to state the nature of the problem, but I’d like to think that we have also explored some possible solutions. Many of the technologies we’ve showcased are still in the conceptual phase. Others are presently too expensive to meet the demands of economic efficiency. Nevertheless, we must be willing to take some risks.

“It’s no coincidence that I have chosen to close the week’s activities with this casino event. Gambling is the perfect metaphor for the challenge we face. Will we play it safe? Stand on seventeen? Or will we take bold risks, losing sometimes, but in the end, winning the jackpot?

“I hope you will consider this metaphor as you return to your homes and your jobs. The safe bet, the status quo, is a slow path to failure. And the stakes are very high, my friends.”

Brown lowered the microphone, and on cue, the gathering clapped again, but this time the applause was more subdued, respectful rather than enthusiastic. The host however was not quite finished.

“Now, as a way of repaying you for having to suffer through my little speech, I have a little surprise.” Brown looked offstage and nodded to one of the stewards. “As I mentioned, there are some fantastic new technologies that aren’t quite ready for widespread distribution, but one of them is now ready for some real world field testing.”

As he spoke, a line of stewards trekked onto the stage and hastily deployed a folding table, upon which they deposited two elegant, covered, silver serving trays. When they had finished, Brown stepped behind the table and took a piece of paper from his pocket. “Would the following men please join me on stage?”

King’s curious musings about the contents of the serving trays were interrupted when he heard Brown speak the name of the man whose face he now wore. After overcoming his surprise and dismay, he jolted into motion.

As he moved onto the stage, King’s thumb brushed the ring on his third finger of his right hand, spinning the band around so that its decorative face was toward his palm. The ring, a Cold War-era spy gadget on loan from the CIA-probably from their museum-concealed the poison-tipped needle that would, if all went according to plan, take Brown permanently out of circulation. A gentle tap on the jeweled head-the pressure of a handshake or a squeezing grasp on the upper biceps, perhaps the result of an attempt to arrest a feigned stumble-would thrust the spring-loaded needle into its target.

He might not get this close to Brown again.

King played the scenario out in his mind as he strode forward. Too obvious, he decided. Too many people watching. He couldn’t afford to attract attention or raise suspicions. The boat was crawling with Alpha Dog security guards. The ring was his only weapon and it had only one dose of tetrodotoxin, just enough to bag the objective.

Be patient. You’ll get another chance.

Nevertheless, he could feel his skin burning with rage beneath the disguise as he passed behind Brown. The man had kidnapped Sara. He’d sent a hired killer after King in Arizona. And in his quest for- what exactly? — he’d very nearly eradicated all life on the planet, not once but twice.

But then he passed Brown and stood with the others-ten of them altogether-waiting to see what surprises the man had in store.

The host faced them, speaking once more into the microphone. “I’ve chosen you from the group because each of you manages a large power plant, and as such are in a unique position to benefit from my little gift.”

Plant managers, King thought. Was this part of Brainstorm’s master plan? Damn, I should have paid attention to the names.

With a flourish, Brown removed the domed covers to reveal ten small black rectangular boxes arrayed on swatches of red velvet. King blinked, tearing his gaze away from Brown, and glanced at the offering.

“Cell phones?” remarked one of the other men, with more than a trace of disappointment.

Brown smiled patiently and picked up one of the rectangles. “Appearances can be deceiving. This device may look like an ordinary cellular phone, but trust me when I say that it has as much in common with the iPhone or Droid in your pocket, as those devices do with an old-fashioned rotary dial telephone. Those devices have been called ‘smart phones.’ Well, gentleman, this…” He held it up, turning to the rest of the audience, “is a genius phone.

“It’s actually much more than just a telecommunications device. Don’t let its size fool you. Each of these little boxes holds more computing power than the mainframe networks that most of you are probably using at your plants.”

There were a few skeptical glances, but Brown continued without missing a beat. “Witness the next evolution of the computer: the quantum processor, courtesy of my new friends at Jovian technologies. Instead of using printed silicon chips, these devices carry out calculations at the atomic level. That’s how we’re able to get so much computational power into such a small package. But that’s only part of it. Quantum processing speeds also make it possible to utilize a remarkable new ‘stutter logic’ artificial intelligence interface.”

King raised an eyebrow at the mention of artificial intelligence, and recalled their original supposition about Brainstorm. Was that Brown’s game? Was he trying to create the independent computerized entity that he had, for so long, pretended to be?

“I can’t give you all the specifics,” Brown went on. “I’m not a ‘techie’ myself. But this AI application streamlines the user interface. No more logic errors or confusion about trying to figure out the correct sequence of operations. You just tell the computer what you want-it responds to either voice or text commands-and it can figure out what you’re really asking. It probably understands better than another human would.

“Gentleman, these devices aren’t just for checking your e-mail or downloading YouTube videos. With just one of these, linked to your existing mainframe, you could single-handedly run your power plants, at least insofar as the computerized systems are concerned. In fact, you could do it from anywhere in the world.” Brown smiled, then after a thoughtful pause, added: “And of course, they are fully functional phones, too.”

“Oh great,” said one of the other men with mock sarcasm. “Wouldn’t you know it? I just signed a two-year contract with T-Mobile.”

Brown swept up the quantum phones and began distributing them to the men. “Not to worry. They are completely compatible with your existing phone carriers. The quantum processor can wirelessly synch with the phone you are now using-just hold it next to your phone, turn it on and tell it what you want to do.”

King watched as the other men eagerly followed Brown’s advice, and took out their personal phones. For his part, he simply dropped the new acquisition into his pocket where it joined the cigars he had pilfered earlier. Aleman would get a kick out taking the gizmo apart.

With the presentation of the quantum phones complete, the recipients began folding back into the crowd, eager to show off the unique devices. The men closest to Brown managed to buttonhole their host, and were expounding on some of their pet ideas for retrofitting the power grid. King lined up behind them, absently twirling the ring, and waited for his chance. A few interminable minutes later, he heard Brown excuse himself, preparing to move away.

King seized the opportunity, pushed past the other guests and stuck out his hand.