Kara nodded, and with a few mouse clicks, the black nanocarbon drained from the glass tube.
Eric was startled to see a triumphant smile on her face. It struck him as odd, her demeanor at odds with the other techs. He tried to remember details from her personnel file. He knew she was a registered nurse, recruited years before, cross trained in the project’s technology, but the rest of the details were lost in a blur.
On the monitor, a graphical representation of Frist’s body appeared, the skin peeling away until only the skeletal structure remained. A red mesh displayed and wrapped the bones, the proposed pattern. Above the graphic, the words WEAVE BEGINNING floated, next to a countdown timer displaying thirty minutes.
“Nanobots are starting the Weave,” Dr. Elliot said. “You can watch as the red mesh turns green. We can’t actually see it happening, of course, but this screen will give you an idea of their status.”
The timer started counting down and the mesh slowly turned from red to green. The first ten minutes crept by, the audience sitting on the edge of their seats, fascinated.
Eric saw another twitch in Frist’s eyelid.
This time, Smith noticed. He cleared his throat. “Nathan, are you sure the subject is unconscious?”
Nathan nodded. “Of course. You can see his vitals on the screen. He’s completely unconscious. Notice the blood pressure, it’s 105/60. He’s out. If he wasn’t, he would be in agony and his blood-pressure would be through the roof.”
Dr. Oshensker stood and walked behind the machine, threading his way through the cables and IV tubes, inspecting them. “Everything looks good,” Dr. Oshensker said. “The diagnostic data is correct. Blood flow is continuing as expected.”
Eric stood. “Doctor, something isn’t right. Please check again.”
“Feldman, run a high level diagnostic,” Dr. Oshensker said to a technician on the other side of the room.
Feldman typed quickly, then looked up. “Everything looks good, doctor.” He turned his attention back to the computer. “Wait. That’s not right.”
Dr. Elliot hurried to the workstation. “What’s not right?”
Feldman looked up, his face concerned. “See this? It’s being fed from an external database. It’s not live telemetry.”
Dr. Elliot grabbed him by the shoulder. “What? How?”
“I don’t know,” Feldman stammered. “I don’t understand. Let me clear the connections and reset the diagnostics.”
Everyone turned their eyes to the monitor. Everyone but Eric. Eric stared at the nurse, Kara, who smiled coldly.
There was a gasp from the crowd.
“My God,” a woman shouted, “his blood pressure is off the charts. He’s awake! He feels everything. You’ve got to stop!”
“We can’t stop the Weave,” Dr. Elliot said. “If we stop now, the program will crash. It will kill him.”
Eric stood and pointed. “It was the nurse,” he said. “She’s the one.”
Everyone stared, first at him, then at her.
Her eyes were wide. “He deserves it,” she snarled.
An armed guard appeared beside her and firmly grabbed her arm.
“He deserves it,” Kara said as the guard hauled her away.
Both of Frist’s eyelids were twitching, and his left hand started to tremble.
Smith stood. “Dr. Oshensker. Sedate him. Now.”
Oshensker grabbed a syringe, his hands shaking. He managed to fill it and plunge it into the IV drip.
Frist’s eyelids slowed their twitching, his hand tremor slowing to a stop, his blood pressure falling back to normal. The countdown timer continued its descent.
“Eric,” Smith said, “interrogate that woman. Nathan, continue the procedure.”
John woke, his body on fire, burning from the inside. He wanted to scream. A glow filtered through his eyelids and he knew that beyond that glow was life. Someone who could help.
He tried to twist, to move. There was something hard and round in his mouth. A tube or a hose, going down his throat. He wanted to gag but even that was denied him.
And, through it all, the pain!
People were talking, indecipherable. If only he could block out the pain, even for a moment, maybe he could make sense of it, understand what was happening, why he was forced to suffer.
He heard a voice. Something about…weave?
The word held no meaning. Just when he thought it could not get worse, he found that what came before was just a prelude. In that moment of agony, he felt a million pinpoints of sharp, prickly needles burrowing through him.
He tried to scream, to make them stop, and then he heard a voice, an old man’s voice, powerful and confident. The pain lessened and he realized, as the torment finally ended, the voice had called for sedation.
Eric strode through the room, people jumping out of his way.
The nurse, Kara, stared at him, blue eyes shining. He stopped to compose himself, then nodded at the guards. They hustled people out of the room and shut the door, leaving them alone.
He glared at her. “You know who I am?”
She nodded. “You’re Wise. You’re the new base CO.”
“I’m only going to ask once. Once, you understand?”
She nodded again, her eyes losing some of their fire.
“Why?”
She swallowed hard. “I don’t regret it. Can you imagine the pain he felt? The torture?”
Eric waited, silent.
She turned away from him, biting her lower lip. “My cousin. Her fiancé’s son was on a class trip. He died in the blast.”
Eric said nothing.
She continued, “I knew when they brought Frist in. A military man, shaggy hair and stubble on his face. They kept him unconscious until the Implant. I had access to his records, so I dug. Why this man? Then I realized. They had found the man responsible for the Red Cross bombing, the man who killed all those people.”
“Smart. So you swapped out the telemetrics for prerecorded data? Then swapped out the anesthesia?”
“Yes,” she admitted. “I changed the anesthesia. He only got the paralytic. He was conscious, but couldn’t move.”
One thing bothered him. “You knew you would be caught. What did you hope to accomplish?”
“Nothing. I just wanted him to suffer,” she said. “Can you understand that?”
He imagined the anger and the pain, the desire to balance, at least somewhat, the cosmic scales of justice. Yes, he could understand it. “You’ve put me in a difficult position. I can’t just re-assign you. You know too much. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
“You’d have me killed. Or buried in a hole. I know how the Office works.” She shook her head, resigned. “I knew it was a possibility before I started. I could tell you I would return to my job and do exactly as ordered, but how could you trust me?”
Eric pondered that. “Would you do your job? Could you put aside your feelings?”
“Have you really thought this project through?” she asked. “We’re going to take a monster — a killer and murderer — and make him a better killer and murderer. Doesn’t it bother you?”
“I have my orders. Just like you.” He leaned close to her. “I’ve been out in the world, fighting for my country. It’s not always pretty, but even in my darkest hour, I believe in America. I’ve done some horrible shit, things I wonder if I can ever get off my conscience, but in the end I do it because I have faith.”
Kara’s lower lip trembled. “It’s funny. That’s why I joined the military. I’m not asking you to plead for me. Whatever happens, happens. But, I’d do my job. I wouldn’t like it, but I’d do my job.”
Eric took her hand in his and squeezed it. “Maybe that’ll be enough. I can’t make any promises, but I’ll talk to Smith. You have to promise me, though, that nothing like this will ever happen again.”