MIND FIELDS Read online

  For the first time in recent memory Sandi decided to take the afternoon off. She phoned Sam so he wouldn’t be worried, and went home to dissect the work of BNI in private.

  Sandi pulled into her driveway and tapped the garage door opener. She looked up through the windshield at the blanket of light gray clouds carpeting the sky. She had lived in Baltimore long enough to know when snow was on the way. The garage door lifted, and she pulled her red Mustang convertible into the garage, thankful that she had chosen a house with enough storage space so she could actually use the garage for her car. She hated digging her car out of the snow.

  By the time she went inside and changed into a well-worn pair of jeans and her favorite sweater, the snow had started to fall. She fixed herself a cup of hot chocolate and curled up on the sofa with the portfolio Ms. Prescott had prepared for her. She stared at the file disdainfully, angry at it for spoiling the moment. Curling up in front of the bay window on a snowy day with a steaming cup of cocoa was something she usually associated with unwinding. This was going to be anything but relaxing.

  Sandi opened the portfolio. The face page was the fax indicating how many pages were sent. She tossed it aside and began to read the first document, the patent application from BNI. There on page one was the signature of the applicant, Dr. Paul Hingston.

  “You snake,” she hissed at the paper. She wasn’t really surprised.

  Slowly, Sandi thumbed her way through the pages, first the applications and then the patents themselves. Her anger grew more intense with each turn of the page. “What a slime-ball!” she shouted. “No way could this be a coincidence.” Every page was familiar to her. BNI had duplicated virtually every facet of her work. It wasn’t as if they had gone down an independent pathway and come up with the same conclusions, but this work had all the hallmarks of stolen research. Every aspect of the work she had been doing with Sam Collier for the last two years was duplicated right here on these pages. It was obvious that someone had stolen her data.

  After an hour of filing through the patent literature, Sandi had had enough. She stood up and stretched, then nearly fell as she tried to put her weight on her right leg, which had been crossed under her on the sofa. Pins and needles shot through her foot, and she angrily stamped on the floor, trying to pound some life into it. Once it would take her weight, she began to pace around the room trying to calm herself, but time only made her anger grow greater. Finally, she walked into the kitchen.

  “Computer, phone Dr. Paul Hingston at BNI in Columbia, Maryland.”

  “Searching for number … connecting.”

  Sandi paced anxiously while she was waiting for the call to go through.

  “Computer, audio connection only.” She couldn’t stomach the thought of looking at Paul right now. It would be much easier to give him a piece of her mind with a good old-fashioned audio phone call.

  “Hello?”

  “Paul, is that you?”

  “Yeah... Sandi?” He hadn’t heard her voice in quite some time, but it was a voice that he would never forget. “It’s great to hear from you.”

  “I’ll just bet it is.”

  “What’s the matter?” He could tell by her tone that this was not going to be the kind of call he had hoped for.

  “What’s the matter! You steal two years of my work and you want to know what’s the matter?”

  “Steal two years of … oh, I see. You heard about the patents, huh?”

  “You’re damned right I did. How in the hell do you have the nerve to use stolen data to file for patents? Are you trying to advertise to the world that you’re a thief?”

  “Whoa, hold on a minute. I worked damn hard on the neuronanobots. You knew that we had been working on the same project as you. Don’t you remember that the last time, it was me calling you to accuse you of stealing my work?”

  “I sure as hell do. It’s not too often that someone accuses me of stealing research. I remember it vividly.”

  “Then you shouldn’t be all that surprised that we were still working on the same project. The only difference is that we beat you to the punch this time.”

  “Yeah, right. Give me a break. Do you really think I’m that stupid, Paul? You didn’t even try to hide the fact that you stole my work. You used the exact same gene sequences that we used … exact. What are the odds of that? Do you think I’m dumb enough to believe that’s a coincidence, or did you just figure that I’d never look at your patents?”

  Paul didn’t know what to say. The odds of them both coming up with precisely the same gene sequencing, the identical mechanism for having the Phase Two nanobots to find the Phase One bots, synapse with them, transform into synthetic neurons and synapse with the healthy neurons in the brain were miniscule. “About a million to one, I’d guess.”

  “What? Is that all you’ve got to say?”

  “They were an exact match?” Paul still couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

  “Exact. Every one of them. Like you didn’t know.”

  “No, Sandi. I didn’t.”

  They both knew that there was only one explanation. Somebody had to be stealing data from one of their labs and giving to the other.

  “I’ll get back to you, Sandi.” The line went dead as he hung up.

  “No you don’t, Paul Hingston. You’re not walking away from this that easily.” But it was too late. She was too spent to call him back.

  God, he sounded sincere, she thought to herself. That self-righteous son of a bitch really thinks that I stole the data from him? She thought for a moment. Could Sam have been stealing the data from BNI and feeding it to me without my knowledge, somehow guiding me to my conclusions? They had worked so closely together on this project that sometimes it was hard to remember which ideas had been hers and which had come from him. Nah.

  It had to be Paul, that bastard. Unless …I suppose someone in his lab could have been pulling one over on him, stealing my data and spoon-feeding it to him. I can’t believe he could really be so naive … well, it probably was him, but in either case, I’m going to make sure he knows I’m on to him. I’ve got the proof right here. Sandi patted a large manila envelope, containing a hard copy of her research on the Phase Two neuronanobot programming. She loved her computer, but never completely trusted digital records. She always kept a back-up paper hard copy of her work. She made up her mind right then to send a copy of her work to Paul. There wasn’t anything to lose; he obviously already had the data and the patents to prove it; there were no secrets left to steal.

  Sandi’s work was all dated, a paper trail of her painstaking research. This would prove that she had done the legwork independently, that it really was her work. She wasn’t quite sure why, but she wanted to make certain that he knew it.

  Sandi lit a fire in the fireplace, and went to the bookcase to make a selection from her library, mostly art and travel books, except for the vast collection of science fiction paperbacks that lined the top two shelves. She smiled as she pulled out a copy of Asimov’s I, Robot, remembering the intrigue it had brought into her life those many years ago when she had first read it. It was one of the stories that had first kindled her fascination for sci-fi, and more importantly, had whetted her appetite for scientific research into the seemingly impossible.

  She curled up on the sofa in front of the crackling fire and opened the book, taking care not to tear the brittle pages from their cover. The musty scent of the old paperback comforted her. She considered it a rare opportunity to relax with a good book. These days, most of her reading was limited to nanotech journals. She glanced out the window at the gathering snow and smiled serenely. It was nice to leave her problems behind, even if only for a little while.

  ___

  Guy Andrews had a musician’s work schedule. He worked late at the downtown nightclub, The Pendulum
Pit, most nights and slept much of the day away. Guy was surprised to see Sandi lounging on the sofa when he came downstairs. Sandi was a workaholic; she never came home early.

  “Hey, what’s the matter, babe, you sick?” He stretched his arms up high over his head and yawned as he came down the stairs in his long flannel robe.

  Sandi looked up from her book. “Nah. Just decided to take the day off. The neuronanobot project is done for now, and I decided I needed a break.”

  “Good for you,” he said as he gave her a kiss. “So, what do you think, should we go into Hunt Valley and celebrate at Sal’s Place?”

  Sal’s was a casual little Italian restaurant, one of her favorites, but she didn’t want to hassle with getting dressed and braving the cold night air.

  “Nah. Let’s just stay in … a little pasta, some wine, a nice crackling fire …umm, sounds perfect, don’t you think?”

  “I didn’t really want to go out anyway,” he said as he put his arms around her.

  “Hey, want to go upstairs and work up an appetite first?” She winked at him.

  “You don’t have to ask me twice,” he said, reaching out to help her up from the sofa.

  ___

  One hour later, they were sipping Chianti in the kitchen. She was stirring in the not-so-secret ingredients of her not-so-famous spaghetti sauce, and he was grinding some fresh garlic for the bread. They had so much fun cooking the meal together that they were almost disappointed when it was ready to eat. This is something Paul would never have done, she thought to herself, inhaling the fragrance of the freshly baked garlic bread as she watched Guy pull the tray out of the oven. God! Stop thinking about him, girl. Don’t ruin today with the past.

  They set up a bridge table and ate by the fire. The food was wonderful, but as romantic as the evening was, she was ready to go to sleep as she sipped the last of her third glass of wine.

  She slumped into Guy’s arms as they sat on the sofa watching the fire die down. “I’ve got to get to bed. Can you take care of the fire while I go take my insulin? I want to make sure I do it before I’m too tired to see the syringe.”

  “Sure, babe,” he said as they struggled up off the sofa together.

  Sandi had been diagnosed with diabetes as a child. Although great strides had been made in the treatment of the disease, she still needed to take a shot of Synthulin, a synthetic long acting insulin, once a week. She always took it shortly before going to sleep. After all these years, it was second nature to her, but tonight she really hated sticking that needle into her arm. It was like a pinprick awakening her from her ethereal dream; the pain was minimal, but it was enough to disturb her preciously serene state of mind.

  It was at that moment she decided what her next project would be – the fabrication of a nanobionic insulin pump, an organic, artificial pancreas made from nanobots that could be injected into the bloodstream, and then assemble themselves into a functioning pancreas once inside the body. It would be the perfect cure for diabetes.

  She tried hard not to think about her new project that night, but it was no use; her mind was in high gear once again. Only the wine enabled her to drift off that night, but the rest of her weekend would not be the respite she had hoped for. It would be even better.

  ___

  The sunlight glistened off the snow and slipped between the slits of the Venetian blinds in the bedroom. Guy was fast asleep, but Sandi felt the call of a new day and craved a hot cup of coffee. She edged slowly out of bed so as not to disturb her lover, slipped on her green corduroy robe, and made her way down to the kitchen.

  The skies had cleared by morning, and the day that followed was filled with an invigorating sunshine, enhanced by its brilliant reflection off the glazed-over snow carpeting Baltimore County. Sandi had moved north of the city to a cozy suburban neighborhood in Phoenix, Maryland after she left Paul. The commute was rough for someone who had lived on or near campus for so many years, but it was well worth it. When she arrived home each evening, she felt like she was in a different world.

  Wintertime was really something special; while the city turned black with soot-covered road slush from the salt trucks and auto exhaust, Phoenix was awash in the pristine beauty that nature meant for the snow to be. The rolling hillsides were covered with the dusty, white powder and the trees, especially the evergreens, were draped in a blanket of snow, weighing down limbs that arched gracefully toward the earth. As the day passed, the warm rays of sunshine bathed the snow-laden branches creating an evanescent trickle of water, lasting just long enough to refreeze at the tips of each branch and glisten in the afternoon light. It was truly a winter wonderland.

  Sandi was on vacation in her own home. The love of someone who could share this beauty with her made it all the more special. Being a guitar player had its trials and tribulations, but today Guy Andrews was glad to be a musician. Even though Sandi had made a spur of the moment decision to take the afternoon off, Guy had no problem arranging to spend it with her; in fact, he had no problem clearing the whole weekend to be with her. Guy was not the most successful of performers, and his work was limited to late-night gigs at The Pendulum Pit, where he was often pre-empted by more popular performers on Saturday nights.

  Sandi was thrilled that he had made time to be with her. From the moment they had first met, their relationship was magical. Guy always seemed to know exactly the right things to say, the right things to do. It was as if he had some sort of connection to her inner soul, a messenger that knew her innermost thoughts and feelings. She was sure it was fate, that somehow it was ordained that they be together. Within weeks of their meeting, Guy had moved in with Sandi. She often found herself wondering what it was that attracted her so strongly to him; they had so little in common. Then he would go and do something perfect.

  This was one of those times. Paul would have never spontaneously taken off just to relax. There were certainly many things that she loved dearly about Paul, but she didn’t want to think about those things right now. She was glad to have Guy here with her now to share in this winter wonderland.

  As much as Guy liked to sleep in, the smell of coffee lured him from his bed. He walked into the kitchen and gave Sandi a peck on the cheek. “Mornin’, lover.”

  She smiled and got up to pour him a cup.

  “So, I’ve got you for the whole day, huh?”

  “The whole weekend,” she said. “Think you can stand it?” She put the mug down in front of him.

  “It’ll be a struggle, but I think I can manage.” He reached up and pulled her close as he sat by the table, burying his head between her breasts.

  She gave him a kiss on the top of the head. “Umm, don’t start that now. I want to get outside and enjoy some of this glorious weather.”

  “Too bad,” he muttered as he let her go.

  They spent the day doing something she hadn’t done since childhood —they played in the snow. She had forgotten how cleansing it could be. With a little practice she regained her skill at making the perfect snow angel. Guy was laughably bad at it. She complained about having given up her sled years ago, but Guy saved the day, appearing with two plastic trashcan lids. They raced to the hill in the park by her house. It was a steep cascading hillside that dropped off toward the Gunpowder River. The hill was a popular spot for local kids to gather after a fresh dump of snow. A dozen of them had already flattened out the powder, making for a rapid ride down the hill. They gawked at the two “old people” as Sandi awkwardly snuggled into the trashcan lid, and then screamed as Guy pushed her down the hill, following close behind as he jumped into the other lid.

  “Jeez, act yer age, would ya!” she heard one little boy shout as she fought to stay upright. She gathered speed quickly, and soon her ecstasy turned to apprehension as the river grew closer and closer. It was quite shallow here, no fear of drowning, but the t
hought of crashing into the ice-cold water and smashing up against the rocky bank was less than appealing. She threw herself off the makeshift sled and screeched, as much with joy as with fear, as she rolled to a stop in the fresh snow.

  For a brief second, she lay on her back staring up into the sun, realizing thankfully that her body was still intact, but then Guy landed on her with a thud.

  “Whew! What a rush,” he screamed.

  “Ooph,” Sandi grunted, the wind knocked out of her.

  “Uh, sorry, San” Guy said, seeing the dazed look in her eyes. He gave her a slow, simmering kiss and the world seemed to melt away.

  By the time they got home, they were both drenched and chilled to the bone. It was nothing that a soak in a hot bath and a romantic evening by the fire wouldn’t cure.

  When unburdened by the realities of everyday life, Guy was perfect for her. They spent the weekend in fantasyland; music and books by a crackling fire set against the glory of Mother Nature were the fare for the respite. She was totally removed from her work both physically and mentally. It was brief, but it provided the cleansing that she needed to rejuvenate herself, to rekindle her creativity.

  By the time Sunday evening rolled around, Sandi felt like a new woman. She had not been so relaxed in years. Guy had promised the owner of the Pendulum Pit in Fell’s Point that he would be back at work for the Sunday night crowd. Guy had developed a bit of a following over the past few months, and his presence would be missed. He felt good about being needed at work.

  Sandi protested meekly, but in reality she did not mind seeing Guy walk out the door to go to work that evening. Mindless passion could be wonderful, but only for so long. She took advantage of the solitude of the evening to finish reading I, Robot, and went to bed early. Weekend mornings after an evening of wine and passion were tough to negotiate. Sandi had learned long ago to forgo alcohol on Sunday night; it made starting the work week much more tolerable. She was looking forward to starting off the week with a new attitude. An early evening with no wine or worries would surely do the trick.