Pedersen was clearly as intrigued as Smith was, but doing his best to hide it. “Software?”

“We’ve put together a military operating system built on the same platform as the commercial unit. It’s simpler, more robust, and more purpose-driven. Something you can expand on.”

“You?” Smith interjected.

Bailer pushed himself back from the table far enough to take in both of his guests. Pedersen was clearly irritated at the sudden inclusion of his new aide.

“The United States will have the exclusive right to develop and use their own proprietary applications and to control weapons systems.”

“So no other foreign army will be able to use Merge technology,” Pedersen said.

“No other foreign army will be able to use the military version. To the degree that other countries can use commercial applications to their advantage on the battlefield—for instance through audiovisual enhancements, GPS, or communications—they’ll be able to do so. What they won’t be able to do is access the military operating system, create military-specific apps, or control weapons.”

“And you can guarantee that because your company is going to oversee software development for the Merge?” Smith said, studiously avoiding looking at Pedersen.

“Correct. At the commercial level, we reserve the right to approve or decline any application. If we approve it, we compile it and put it up on the system. Because the Merge’s output is so heavily integrated into its user’s reality, the interface has to be very carefully designed. Vertigo is a serious problem, and then there are the obvious safety issues. We want to make sure that no one creates, for instance, a YouTube application that can be used while driving a car. With the military, though, that’s not as much of a concern. We’re confident in your ability to look after the safety of your soldiers.”

“So we’ll be able to compile and integrate applications without your involvement,” Smith continued before Pedersen could jump in.

Bailer shook his head. “We retain the access codes to the operating system. You’ll send your applications to us and we’ll integrate it into the operating system.”

“That seems like a lot of control for us to give up.”

Bailer shrugged. “If you’re not interested, we certainly understand. But I can tell you right now, these conditions are non-negotiable. Christian isn’t going to cede control of his technology. The risks are too great.”

“Cost?” Pedersen finally managed to interject, obviously unhappy with being shut out of the conversation.

“With full integration, we’re estimating about thirty-five hundred per unit.”

The general’s brow furrowed as he made a few mental calculations, giving Smith an opportunity to ask another of the thousands of questions bouncing around his head.

“I have to say that I’m surprised by this. Dr. Dresner has never shown any interest at all in military contracting. In fact, I’d go so far as to say he’s actively avoided it.”

Bailer leaned a little farther back in his chair and nodded thoughtfully. “I can see why you’d think that, but you have to understand that Christian sees America and its military as a force for good. Though admittedly an imperfect and self-interested one. He believes very much in the potential of humanity, but understands that there’s evil in the world that needs to be dealt with. In fact, with his background, he probably understands that better than anyone in the room. What he sees here is an opportunity to help the U.S. be a bit more surgical than wiping out an entire Pakistani neighborhood to kill one suspected terrorist or destroying an entire country to depose a single dictator.”