“Half of science these days is finally catching up to the whims and dreams of writers from the 1950s,” Gaddis said. “Theoretically, it should have worked. The brain has plenty of unused space, but Abigail could never make an effective addition without corrupting the download and causing fatal complications in the host brain. For complex reasons, the sensors that logged downloads couldn’t interpret Abigail’s augmentations, and they read as empty space. A cluster of voids, if you will.”
Con drew in a sharp breath, catching on. “Which would mean you were right. My aunt didn’t delete her research.”
“Which brings us back to Brooke Fenton,” he said with the disdain usually reserved for rare cancers. “She was the only person to confirm this so-called erasure. My guess is when she realized the scope of Abigail’s research, she decided to hide it and claim Abigail destroyed it before her supposed suicide. It’s been right there all this time. Brooke has simply been biding her time for the opportunity to tiptoe it out.”
“But why would she steal from her own company?” Con asked.
“Because no one makes movies about the Tim Cooks of this world.”
“Who’s Tim Cook?”
“The CEO of Apple after Steve Jobs died. Did a damn fine job too. But it was never his company. Brooke always aspired to a Steve Jobs kind of greatness but knows now she’ll never have it. I think she’ll be looking to sell to the highest bidder. The Chinese would be my guess. They’ve been playing catchup for ten years and would give Brooke the deed to Hong Kong Island for Abigail’s research, since it would certainly leapfrog them past anything we have currently.”
“So Brooke Fenton murdered Con D’Arcy so that I could carry Abigail’s lost research out of Palingenesis in my head. I really am her unwitting courier, just like you said. And that’s this cluster-of-voids thing in my head. Do I have that about straight?”
Gaddis handed her a tablet. “That and it’s killing you.”
Wonderful. She scrolled slowly through the doctor’s analysis of her scan. Much of it was technical, but Con understood the bottom line. She came to an image of her scan; beside it for comparison purposes was the scan of a neurotypical download. Hers was much darker, with slashes of empty space. The cluster of voids.
Gaddis said, “Whatever Brooke inserted has corrupted your download. Your brain is attacking it the way the body might reject an organ transplant.”
“How long do I have?” Con returned the tablet and sunk back, adjusting to the weight of her new reality. She imagined that later she’d have all kinds of emotions about it, but for now, she felt only a spreading numbness. All this time, she’d been fighting for a life that would be no life at all. It felt like a prank, a practical joke scribbled by a lazy, unjust universe. Well, at least now she didn’t have to worry so much about being driven insane by the lag.
“We simply don’t know. You have some time left. Six months? Perhaps longer with the proper medical care. Again, we’re in uncharted territory here, so it’s impossible to say with any degree of certainty. The good news is that medication can mask most of the symptoms until the end. The bad news is that the end will be swift and come with almost no warning.” Almost as an afterthought, Gaddis added, “I’m sorry.”
Con nodded. “Thanks.”
“With that in mind, there is a possible solution,” Gaddis said.
“What kind of solution?”
“We grow you a new clone. One that correctly matches the age of your last upload, thus eliminating the lag you’ve been experiencing. The other good news is that whatever Brooke Fenton inserted is not a part of your last upload. That means an uncorrupted copy of your consciousness still exists on the quantum servers at Palingenesis.”
That was the second time she’d been offered a clone. She was tempted to ask for one hundred million dollars on top of it. Somehow she didn’t think Gaddis would blink. He had danced around the precise nature of her aunt’s research, but he knew exactly what she’d been working on and wanted it for himself. Con could hear the greed in his voice. That wasn’t why she was going to turn him down, though.
“I’m guessing that means you can’t move this consciousness into a new clone,” she asked, knowing the answer.
“I’m afraid not. The damage is already done. All we’d be doing is moving your corrupted download from one body to another. The outcome would be the same.”