Ramez Naam - Apex

“But we’re also poor,” she went on. “We have the third largest economy on the planet. We have more than our fair share of billionaires. But, despite our efforts, almost a tenth of our population still live in real poverty. Only half of our children complete their primary education – eight years of schooling. And millions receive only a year or two at best.

“Kade, what you told Secretary Aggarwal – whether you guessed it or found it out through other means – is partially correct. We see Nexus as a potentially pivotal tool for our nation. If we can help our children learn faster, if we can augment their brain power, then we can help them climb out of poverty faster, and help them create more wealth for the nation as a whole.

“We want to uplift our people. We want to use this technology for the greatest push in human development the world has ever seen. And we want your help.”

It was almost exactly what Kade had hoped for. It was very nearly the best case scenario he’d imagined.

Yes, Kade thought. I’m in. This is exactly what I want.

But he was going to press for more.

Feng had agreed. Sam had agreed.

He had to. This was bigger than him. Bigger than them. Bigger than India.

Tit for tat. Iterated Prisoner’s Dilemma. Break the cycle.

His heart thumped inside his chest. He wanted to lick his lips, forced himself not to.

He closed his eyes instead.

Sam’s voice was in his head, a study in controlled anger, in bitter strategy, moves plotted on the plane of the man she’d executed.

You’re valuable, she’d said, growling out the last word, her hands clenched around the controls, as Indian fighters and drones guided them in.

He’d stared at her. He was so angry. She’d crossed a line, executing Shiva Prasad in cold blood, after he’d disarmed the man, after he was helpless, after the man could have been redeemed.

But he needed her. Needed her brain, her hardness, her experience with the world of spooks and spies.

You have bargaining power now, Sam had gone on. Not later. Not after you say yes to whatever they want. Now. Only now.

She’d unclenched one hand from the controls then, reached over and tapped the MISSILE LOCK indicator, then looked back over her shoulder at him, her eyes still full of rage.

Use that power, Kade , Sam had said. Make a home for these kids.

They had the same priorities in that, at least.

“Kade?” Lakshmi Dabir’s voice cut in.

He opened his eyes. They were both looking at him. He nodded agreeably to Lakshmi Dabir, his heart pounding in his chest again.

“I’m very happy to hear your plans,” he said. “Of course I’ll help. I’d be honored to.” He paused. “Under certain conditions.”

Rakesh Aggarwal frowned. Lakshmi Dabir looked at Kade quizzically.

“First,” Kade said, “India will leave the Copenhagen Protocol.”

Aggarwal laughed out loud. “Mr Lane, you’re in no position to set conditions.”

Kade breathed slowly through his nose, inhaled stillness, inhaled tranquility, exhaled the fear and doubt.

“Second,” he went on, “anything I help you with will be given away freely to the rest of the world. You’ll be first mover. You have the largest population. You’ll benefit most. But everyone else gets the same shot.”

Lakshmi Dabir raised an eyebrow. Rakesh Aggarwal snorted.

Kade pushed on.

“Third,” he told them, “you’ll introduce legislation ruling out any use of Nexus or any other neurotechnology for coercion, interrogation, or surveillance, even on the part of your police or national intelligence.”

Aggarwal made an outraged sound. “This is absurd. You can’t demand that we start drafting laws based on your whims!”

“You’re a parliamentary system,” Kade said. Outrage was easy to deal with. Factual debate was easy. “The Prime Minister’s party can offer whatever legislation she wants.”

Lakshmi Dabir was looking at him thoughtfully. “This is true,” she said slowly. “But we’re in a coalition government. There’s no guarantee our partners will vote for it, even if the PM were to want such legislation.”

Kade nodded agreeably.

“All I ask is that it’s introduced,” he said, “with an honest effort made.”

Aggarwal shook his head. “This is ridiculous, Mr Lane.”

“Fourth,” Kade raised his voice slightly, let his own passion rise, his own anger, his own outrage at the things he’d seen, let it chase away any anxiety that remained. “If I ever find signs of any surveillance, coercion, mind-reading, or mind-control tools built off Nexus or any related technology, I will destroy those tools, and I will publicize them, to the entire world.” He waited a beat, as Aggarwal’s face grew more outraged, as Lakshmi Dabir looked more and more thoughtful. “And if you involve me in this project,” Kade continued. “And if you build such things, I will find them.”

They don’t know what you’re capable of , Sam had said. You’re a question mark. Use that to your advantage.

“This is pointless,” Aggarwal said. He rose.

“Sit down, Rakesh,” Dabir said softly. “Hear him out.”

Aggarwal stayed standing.

Kade took another slow breath. A calming breath now.

“Fifth,” he said, his face cold now. “Your government will introduce legislation prohibiting discrimination and penalizing hate crimes against individuals on the basis of genetic, neurobiological, computational, or other enhancements, and give these laws teeth in places like Bihar province.”

Bihar, the orphanage, weeping in the ashes for the dozens of his children who’d died.

No. That’s Shiva’s memory, not mine.

“Ahhh,” Aggarwal was speaking, still standing, his voice dripping with contempt now. “Bihar. Shiva Prasad, eh? You know we landed marines on Apyar Kyun not long after you left there? We’ve heard interesting stories from the staff we’ve questioned. Is it true you have Shiva Prasad’s memories? Is that why you killed him? No more use for him?”

Rakesh Aggarwal leaned forward, put his hands on the table, pushed his face forward towards Kade’s.

“Tell me, Mr Lane: Did you pull the trigger? Did you put the bullet in Shiva Prasad’s brain?”

Kade closed his eyes in pain and shock.

Sam raised the pistol, pointed it at Shiva’s head, just inches from his skull, less than two feet from Kade.

“No, Sam. Don’t do this. He tried to do the–”

Muzzle flare. Shiva’s brain collapsing in shards of chaos. Wet matter splattering on Kade’s face.

She just executed him! In cold blood!

I could have saved him. Oh god, he was good inside. I could have saved him. We could have saved him, the children and I…

Memories were swirling in his head: swimming in Azure seas, playing with the enhanced children, testing them through the games his team had devised, watching the software they were architecting come together, the satellites launch, dreaming of the future he’d build, the future when he’d unite a billion minds together under his direction.

“Rakesh!” Lakshmi Dabir’s voice was sharp.

Kade’s eyes flew open. His heart was pounding.

Shiva’s memories. Not mine.

I’m not Shiva.

I’m not.

Aggarwal slowly pulled himself back upright, sneering down at Kade now.

Breathe, Kade told himself. Breathe.

I’m not Shiva.

I’m not dead.

And I didn’t kill him.

Aggarwal was still staring at him, contempt written all over his face.

Kade swallowed.

There was a script. Back on the script.

He forced himself to speak, to push for what he knew was right.