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Back The Utopia Experiment Save as PDF
Chapters (84)
  1. Title Page
  2. Welcome
  3. Prologue
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. 57
  61. 58
  62. 59
  63. 60
  64. 61
  65. 62
  66. 63
  67. 64
  68. 65
  69. 66
  70. 67
  71. 68
  72. 69
  73. 70
  74. 71
  75. 72
  76. 73
  77. 74
  78. 75
  79. 76
  80. Epilogue
  81. About the Authors
  82. The Covert-One Novels
  83. Newsletters
  84. Copyright

Zellerbach reluctantly activated an icon on his screen and clicked it. Smith tensed as the screen flashed red and buzzers hooted through hidden speakers, but that was all. He waited eighteen seconds for the system to fully cycle but other than the adrenaline he was pretty sure he was generating himself, there was nothing.

Zellerbach glanced down at his feet for a moment and gave his lips another quick swipe with his tongue. It was then that Smith understood. He hadn’t triggered it, instead using his computer to generate some impressive, but meaningless, displays.

Unfortunately Whitfield came to the same conclusion.

“I’m not stupid, Martin.”

“I did it!” Zellerbach protested a little too energetically to be convincing. “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe it really is just an upgrade path. I could have the key wrong, too. I’m not a miracle worker!”

Whitfield glanced at his men, obviously trying to decide what to do. He’d be considering torture, of course. And putting a gun to Randi’s head. But in the back of his mind, he’d know neither of those strategies led to certainty. Zellerbach was, by every measure, a genius in his area of expertise. And that area was computer trickery.

Smith thought he’d considered all of Whitfield’s options and was shocked when the retired marine pulled Zellerbach from his chair and sat, starting to recalibrate the unit to his own mind.

When he was finished, he stood and shoved Zellerbach back in front of the terminal. “Do it.”

“I…I don’t think—”

“I didn’t ask your opinion, son. Just do it.”

Randi seemed happy with the turn of events and gave a short nod. “Go for it, Marty. Can’t get any worse for us.”

He pulled up an innocuous prompt, typing what looked like a nonsensical line of code into it. His finger hesitated over the return button for a moment, but then dropped obediently onto it.

This time, there were no alarms or flashing lights. A couple of seconds passed and Smith started to wonder if the system really didn’t do anything when Whitfield suddenly grabbed his right arm and grimaced in pain. A moment later, he had collapsed to the floor.

“Shut it off!” Smith shouted, dropping to his knees beside the man.

“I can’t. Once it’s triggered, it runs off the internal battery.”

Randi devised a typically inelegant but effective solution—grabbing a wrench and attacking the individual parts of the Merge on the table.

Smith ignored the men guarding them and felt Whitfield’s neck for a pulse. Nothing. Based on everything Smith knew about the Merge technology, it was impossible. But impossible or not, the man was dead.

65

65

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