Recursion - Blake Crouch Page 0,68
a collection of low-rise office buildings that defines nondescript.
Once outside, Alonzo takes Helena by the arm and escorts her up the walkway to the main entrance, through the double doors, then deposits her by the front desk, where a very tall man—at least six and a half feet—stands waiting.
He dismisses Alonzo with a deep-voiced “I’ll text you,” and turns his focus on Helena.
“So you’re the genius?” the man asks. He has a magnificent beard and thick, dark eyebrows that run together like a hedge below his forehead. He extends his hand. “I’m John Shaw. Welcome to DARPA.”
“What do you do here, Mr. Shaw?”
“I suppose you could say I’m in charge. Come with me.” He starts toward the security checkpoint, but she doesn’t move. After five steps, he glances back at her. “That wasn’t a suggestion, Dr. Smith.”
He badges them both through sliding glass doors and leads her down a hallway of baize carpeting. While from the outside the building resembled a sad office park, the interior, with its grim lighting and utilitarian design, is a soulless government labyrinth to the bone.
He says, “We gutted Slade’s lab and brought everything here so we could properly secure it.”
“Did Raj not convey my thoughts on helping you?”
“He did.”
“So why am I here?”
“I want to show you what we’re doing.”
“If it involves using the chair, I’m not interested.”
They arrive at a revolving door of impenetrable-looking glass and a biometric security system.
Shaw looks down at Helena, towering over her by more than a foot. His face might be friendly under different circumstances, but in this moment, he looks intensely annoyed.
The smell of cinnamon-flavored Altoids wafts over her as he says, “I want you to know, there is no place safer in the width and breadth of the entire world than the other side of that glass. It may not look like it, but this building is a goddamn fortress, and at DARPA, we keep our secrets.”
“That glass can’t contain the chair. Nothing can. Why do you want it anyway?”
The right side of his mouth curls up, and for an instant, she glimpses the steel cunning in his eyes.
“Do me one favor, Dr. Smith,” Shaw says.
“What’s that?”
“For the next hour of your life, try to keep an open mind.”
* * *
The chair and deprivation chamber stand side by side as centerpieces under the burn of the floodlights, in the most exquisite lab Helena has ever seen.
Raj is already seated at the terminal when they enter, and behind him stands a woman in her mid-twenties in black military fatigues and boots, her arms sleeved with tattoos and her black hair pulled back into a ponytail.
Shaw brings Helena over to the terminal.
“This is Timoney Rodriguez.”
The soldier nods to Helena. “Who’s this?”
“Helena Smith. She created all of this. Raj, how’re we doing?”
“Full steam ahead.” He swivels his chair around and looks up at Timoney. “You ready?”
“I think so.”
Helena looks at Shaw. “What’s happening?”
“We’re sending Timoney back into a memory.”
“For what purpose?”
“You’ll see.”
Helena turns to Timoney. “You realize they’re about to kill you in that tank?”
“John and Raj briefed me on everything when they brought me on board.”
“They’re going to paralyze you and stop your heart. Having experienced it four times, I can assure you it’s an agonizing process, and there’s no way to circumvent the pain.”
“Cool, cool.”
“The changes you make will affect other people and cause all kinds of pain for them. Pain they’re not ready for. Do you think you have a right to do that?”
No one acknowledges Helena’s question.
Raj rises and motions to the chair. “Take a seat, Timoney.”
He grabs one of the silver skullcaps in the cabinet beside the terminal and carries it over to the chair. Then he fits it on Timoney’s head and begins to fasten the chin strap.
“This is the reactivation apparatus?” Timoney asks.
“Exactly. It works with the MEG microscope to record the memory. Then when you move over to the tank, it saves the neural pattern for reactivation by the stimulators.” He lowers the MEG over the skullcap. “Have you thought about which memory you want to record?”
“John said he’d give me some guidance.”
“Only parameter on my end is that it needs to be three days old,” Shaw says.
Raj opens the compartments embedded in the chair’s headrest and unfolds the telescoping titanium rods, which he locks into housings on the exterior of the microscope.
He says, “The memory doesn’t have to be extensive. It just needs to be vivid. Pain and pleasure are good markers. So is strong emotion. Right,