A building finally came into view, still distant but unmistakably the one he was looking for. Most of his communication with Christian Dresner was over computer links; the few times they had met face-to-face, it was always at one of these remote bunkers. From the outside, they all looked exactly like miniature versions of the swooping, thick-walled research facilities he’d also strewn across the world. It was like a tic.

Bailer eased up to the gate and, for the first time in his life, was just waved through by one of the highly trained guards Dresner seemed to think were necessary to protect him. From what, no one was sure. Former Israeli and U.S. special forces seemed like overkill to keep him safe from a world populated mostly with starstruck fanboys.

Interestingly, the apparent lack of rigor didn’t reflect an easing of Dresner’s obsession with security as much as a simplification of it. The guard’s Merge would have instantly confirmed his identity through both facial recognition and an encrypted system that authenticated brain wave patterns. The latter system was one that was being kept under wraps while the public learned to deal with inevitable privacy concerns, but it had incredible potential for making financial fraud and identity theft a thing of the past. Among other things.

His was the only car in evidence as he pulled up to a heavy front door guarded by yet another broad-shouldered man with eyes hidden by dark sunglasses. There was no need for an escort because the layout was exactly the same as it was in the compounds he’d been to in Scandinavia and South Africa. Predictably, the massive garden Bailer entered was created in the familiar Japanese pattern but populated with local plants.

He found Dresner at the back, sitting alone in an intimate conversation pit shaded by a high wall. He stood and they shook hands with warmth that Bailer assumed wasn’t felt by either side.

“I appreciate you coming personally, Craig. I feel like our first discussion of this should be done in person. That is to say, I’m very excited to hear what you have for me.”

“And I appreciate the invitation, Christian. As always.” It was a lie, of course. This was a spectacularly bad time for him to be away from DI’s headquarters. A much worse time than Dresner could possibly know.

“Please sit,” the old man said, settling back down and pouring Bailer a glass of water. “And tell me how it’s all going.”

“Mostly as projected. The stores can’t handle the demand for demonstrations, but that’s something we anticipated. On the other hand, seventy-three percent of the people who do go through a demonstration, buy.”

“And what does that translate to in numbers?”

“After five days of availability, eighty-nine percent of users still are on the headsets but a surprising fifty percent have immediate plans to get implants. That number is trending steeply upward, as people’s experiences are almost uniformly positive.”

“Age distribution?”

“Not surprisingly, sales are overwhelmingly to people in the twenty-five to thirty-five range. However, adoption among older demographics is on an upward trend that right now looks geometric. The sleep function is probably the most enthusiastically embraced facet of the Merge—I’m not aware of any meaningful negative publicity. I wouldn’t be surprised if we see enormous adoption by seniors who use the system only as a sleep aid.”