Harry Harrison - The Turing Option

“You will identify yourself. Name, date of birth, place of birth.”

“Why, your honor?” Brian asked in a wondering voice, his Irish brogue suddenly thick.

“Because you have been ordered to. Statements have been made about your health and sanity that need corroboration. You will answer the question.”

“Must I do that? I know why. I’ll bet it’s because these people here been telling lies about me. Have they told you wild stories about me being only fourteen years old when with your own fine blue eyes you can see that is not true?”

“Perhaps something of that nature.” The General’s eyes sparkled as he leaned forward. “You are speaking for the record.”

Benicoff moved away so the General could not see his face. He had spent time in Ireland. He knew what “putting the mickey to someone” meant — even if the General did not.

Brian hesitated and looked about him, licking his lips.

“Am I safe now, General?”

“I can guarantee that one hundred percent. As of this moment the United States Army is in charge.”

“That’s nice to know. I feel a great relief as I tell you that I woke up in me hospital bed, sore in the head. And with not a memory I could find after my fourteenth year. I may not look it, General, but as far as I know I am fourteen years old. And very tired. Feeling suddenly ill. I have something of medical importance to discuss with my attending physician.”

“Mr. Benicoff,” Dr. Snaresbrook said, right on cue, “would you and General Schorcht please leave. You may wait outside.”

Whatever the General had to say never came out. His face was bright red, his jaw working. In the end he spun about so sharply on his heel that the pinned-up arm of his uniform jacket flew up. Benicoff was holding the door open for the General and closed it behind them as they left. Worried, Dr. Snaresbrook hurried to Brian’s side.

“What’s the trouble, Brian?”

“Don’t worry, Doc, nothing terminal. I just had enough of that one. But, yes, there is one thing.”

“Pain?”

“Not quite. If you will excuse the expression — I just have to pee.”

Almost two weeks passed before Benicoff saw Brian again. But he did get daily progress reports from Dr. Snaresbrook, which he passed on instantly to the President’s office. He did not hurry the second report that he had to file every day. Out of sheer malice at three in the morning, his E-fax was programmed to send a copy of the progress report to General Schorcht’s unlisted security number. In the hope that some excitable staff officer might find an item in the report that was interesting enough to wake up the General. This thought sent Benicoff to sleep with a smile every night.

He also E-faxed a daily case report of the Megalobe investigation at the same time. These were getting shorter and emptier of any progress with every passing day. There had been a flurry of activity when a series of caves had been discovered not too far from Megalobe; a result of one of the more way-out theories that had been developed. This theory expanded on the supposition that maybe the truck that had been at the laboratory that night had left the valley after all. But had left empty. The stolen items might then have been buried at a prepared site, to be dug up later when things had cooled down. Therefore all the excitement about the cave discovery. But the caves contained only fossilized bat guano which, Benicoff thought to himself, described just about everything else about the case that they had uncovered so far.

He had jogged through Balboa Park for an hour just after dawn then, showered and dressed, he had scowled through a low-cal breakfast and black coffee. At nine he had phoned the electronic company to check the delivery time of the items he had arranged for. Then, after returning the calls from the East Coast that had been recorded while he was out, he sealed his computer and took the rear elevator that connected with MegaHertz car rental in the subbasement of the hotel. The yellow electric runabout he had reserved was waiting for him. He checked that it had a spare tire, that there were no obvious dents in the body and that it had a full charge in the battery. Traffic was light until he reached the Coronado Bridge where the tail-back from security reached back halfway along it. He switched to the VIP lane and stopped only at the far end when the marine guard flagged him down.

“I’m afraid you can’t use this lane, sir.”

“I’m afraid I can.”

His pass and documents earned him a salute and another inspection at the VIP entrance. There were more salutes here — along with a complete search of the car. And all this just to get into the public part of Coronado. The searches became even more enthusiastic when he reached the gates of the military base.

Brian was standing at the window when Benicoff came in, turned around with a smile.

“Mr. Benicoff, it’s good to see you. We’re kind of short of visitors here.”

“Even better to see you — and you look great.”

“And that’s just about how I feel. They took the bandages off my back and arm yesterday. I’ve got a couple of nice scars. And I’m going to get a cap instead of these bandages tomorrow. Everyone keeps peeking at my skull but won’t let me see it yet.”

“Which is probably not such a bad idea. And I can give you some more good news. Dr. Snaresbrook and I, after a frontal assault on the naval authorities, have obtained reluctant agreement to have a computer terminal plugged into the room here for you.”

“That’s great!”

“But you’ll notice that I said terminal and not computer. A dumb terminal to the hospital’s mainframe. So you can be sure that every keystroke you enter will simultaneously appear on General Schorcht’s screen.”

“That’s even better! I’ll see to it that the good man has plenty to read to keep his blood pressure up.”

“Love at first sight. I appreciate the way you put the mickey to him.”

“I had to. He looks and sounds just like one of the nuns at school back in Tara, the one who used to break her ruler over my knuckles. And speaking of breaks — any chance of breaking out of here? Getting some fresh air?”

Benicoff dropped into the armchair, which squeaked under his weight. “I have been fighting with the authorities on this one as well. When the doc says that your health is up to it you can use the balcony to the tenth floor.”

“With ropes attached so I don’t jump off?”

“Not that bad — I took a look at it on the way up. Some Admiral’s personal little perk, I imagine. It’s pretty big, with lounges, trees — even a fishpond. And well guarded.”

“That’s another thing I wanted to ask you about, Mr. Benicoff—”

“Just Ben, if you please, which is what my friends call me.”

“Sure. It’s about these guards, really, and what’s going to happen to me when I get better. Doc said to ask you.”

Benicoff climbed to his feet and began to pace. “I’ve thought about that a lot — without finding a good answer. When you leave this hospital I’m afraid that you’ll have to go to someplace equally secure.”

“You mean until you find out who it was that stole the AI and shot me — the same people who then came back later on and tried to finish the job.”

“I’m afraid that’s it.”

“Then — can I see a printout of everything that has happened since the attack and theft in the lab, and everything you have discovered since?”

“It’s classified Top Secret. But since it is all about you, and you’re not going to do much traveling for a while — I don’t see why not. I’ll bring you a copy tomorrow.”

A nurse poked her head in the door. “Some equipment here to be installed. Dr. Snaresbrook has approved it.”