He closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, urging his thoughts into focus. The phone buzzed in his hand as another alert appeared at the top of the screen. This time, from Cal.
Got time to chat?
He ignored it, instead tapping a link to a recommended article from his feed—this one about microplastic concentrations in marine vertebrates. Maybe he could duck Cal for the rest of his time at the center, but that wasn’t realistic. Unless he still planned to pay for a flight home himself, he’d need Cal to take him back to the jet at Wheeler, or arrange a commercial flight.
The phone buzzed again.
Need to go over the offer
Jayson narrowed his eyes, parsing the message to make sure he understood. A simple enough statement, but so at odds with his expectations, he assumed he’d misread it.
Offer?
To join the team
He snorted. They really thought they could subject him to some bullshit psychological game, insult him, and then pretend it was no big deal?
Not sure this is right for me
Interview didn’t go well
Just the opposite
Richard liked your passion
He tapped out a gut response and stared at it, his finger quivering over the send button.
Richard can fuck himself
“Shit.”
He shook his head. Was pride even relevant in the face of a global crisis? He recalled Samaira’s unspoken words on their walk the day before. Suck it up, buttercup. There’s work to be done. He backspaced over the message and replaced it with something he wouldn’t end up regretting.
Tomorrow?
Tomorrow is good
Meet you in the caf for breakfast @8:00
***
Jayson sat across from Cal in the cheery morning light of the cafeteria with a forkful of scrambled egg in one hand and a thick document in the other.
“Big contract,” he said, gauging its heft.
“That’s the NDA—the nondisclosure agreement,” replied Cal. “The employment contract isn’t as detailed.”
“Why an NDA? I thought you wanted to share your knowledge with the world.”
“Oh, absolutely. We’ll share the outcomes. It’s the methods that need to be protected. You’ll apply the same technology that makes Hitz-It.com the most highly valued company on the planet.”
“Really? How does a social media company’s technology apply to agriculture?”
Cal smiled.
“Sign the NDA and find out.”
Jayson pushed his plate aside and gave the document a cursory look-over. Turning to the last page, he looked up and locked eyes with the recruiter, searching for a sign he wasn’t about to make a mistake. Cal handed him a pen.
Staring at the signature line, marked with a yellow sticky note, Jayson had a brief flashback. In his mid-teens again, he stood on a ten-meter diving board above the frigid water of an old limestone quarry the city had converted into a public swimming pool, the narrow ladder behind him crowded with people waiting their turn.
On the grass below, a group of bikini-clad girls from his school sat on beach towels, shielding their eyes from the sun as they watched the antics of their pimple-faced, testosterone-fueled classmates. Taking a deep breath, he signed the contract with the same sense of inevitability that had propelled him into the murky water.
“Great,” said Cal as he took the document and slid another in its place. “Just a couple more things to sign before we get you to work.”
“Woah,” said Jayson, holding up his hands. “I still have a month of work on my thesis.”
“I already spoke with your dean and faculty advisor. The Center is providing a grant for your research, which will continue here at our facilities.”
Jayson’s mouth fell open.
“How is that possible?”
“It’s already two in the afternoon in Guelph,” said Cal. “Plenty of time to get things worked out.”
“And my apartment?”
“We’ll cover the remaining rent and hire someone to pack up your stuff. Do you have anyone who can meet the landlord with a key?”
Why the rush? He’d assumed there’d be time to see his family and wrap up a few things back home before relocating. Maybe his friends would even throw a party—if he dropped a hint or two. Now it seemed as if the Center would not give him that opportunity. Something else still bothered him, too.
“What about Richard?”
“What about him?” asked Cal, furrowing his brow.
“All the stuff he said in the interview.”
“Nothing personal. Just a test to see if you had the mettle for the fight ahead.”
“So, he doesn’t have a problem with me?”
“Of course not. He insisted on hiring you. He likes you.”
Jayson raised an eyebrow, wondering how Dr. Vandergroot treated people he didn’t like.
“Meet us in the courtyard by the main building in an hour,” added Cal. “You can get to know the real Richard Vandergroot, and put all that behind you.”
Cal clapped him on the shoulder, scooping up the signed documents as he excused himself.
Jayson shook his head again as he reached for his phone. He sent a quick text to his parents, telling them he’d call later with some news. Then, realizing he had some time to kill before the next meeting, he checked the latest recommended headlines from his feed.
Sir David Attenborough says immediate action necessary to avert climate disaster.
Anton Kamaras implores fellow billionaires to focus on earth, not space.
Why technology alone cannot save the planet.
***
Richard stepped from the elevator and nodded to the receptionist as he headed to the courtyard behind the main building. Cal sat at one of several shady tables among the trees with Dr. Adams—and the other one, Jayson Reilly. He frowned.
“Good morning,” he said, forcing a smile as he approached.
They rose to greet him.
“Cal?” he said. “A word?”
He nodded toward the lobby, leading his head recruiter back inside.
“What the hell is he doing here?” he said as the doors slid shut.
“Reilly?”
“Yes, Reilly. I thought I made it clear the interview was a disaster.”
“Didn’t you read my email?”
“Was it longer than two paragraphs?”
Cal shrugged.
“No, Tolstoy, I didn’t read your goddamned email. Why is he here?”
“AI still likes him.”
“What?”
“I know it looked bad,” said Cal, “but it’s a matter of offsetting factors.”
“What factors offset being told to go fuck myself?”
“He’s over ninety-nine percent on acceptance already—highest of any recruits—and he’s filling a big hole in the DNA profiles. Did you know his mitochondrial haplotype is unique among suitable candidates?”
“I didn’t.”
Nor did he see how it could overcome the spectacle he’d made of himself the day before.
“No corrective lenses, no teeth extractions or braces, no appendicitis, no significant risk of genetic disorder, etcetera, etcetera,” added Cal.
“I find it hard to believe the algos aren’t seeing a risk after that outburst. We need people under control when things get tense.”
“Sure, he lost his cool. But other than some aggressive language, what did he do? Classic flight reflex.”
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
Richard raised an eyebrow. True. After the outburst, the Reilly kid had chosen flight over fight.
“What about his skills?”
“Usable, for sure. We just need to nudge him in a different direction.”
Richard shook his head. A moment of silence.
“Let me ask you this,” said Cal. “Do you trust the AI that built your fusion team?”
Richard sighed. How could he not? The test two days earlier had proven them effective.
“Fine,” he said, throwing up his hands. “So we’re done identifying the Gamma recruits?”
“Not quite.”
“What’s the problem?”
“Andrew Jorgensen. He’s becoming isolated, and he’s creeping people out. A lot of the women aren’t comfortable with him.”
“Anything else on him?”
“Acceptance is stalling out. Regressing a bit, even.”
“I assume we have a backup prepped?”
“Yeah. I’m on it.”
“Okay. Let’s get this over with,” said Richard, gesturing to the door. “But you’re handling Reilly today.”
***
Richard stayed in the courtyard with Dr. Adams—Samaira, she’d insisted—after a brief reconciliation with Jayson Reilly. Still midmorning, most people were inside working. Those enjoying the fresh air, talking over cups of coffee in small groups around the periphery, stayed far enough away that their conversations were not a distraction.
“You asked me yesterday about the simulations we used to build our team,” he started. “Are you ready to learn more?”
“That’s why I signed your NDA.”
“A necessary precaution. Your work requires access to the unique technology that makes Hitz-It.com special. It’s crucial the nature of this technology remains hidden from our competitors.”
Samaira nodded.
“As you know, my research with the Navy focused on quantum computing. After that, I came to work for Mr. Kamaras, leading the team that built his first-of-a-kind quantum system.”
“As impressive as that sounds, I have to admit I don’t know what it means—practically speaking.”
“Don’t worry, Dr. Adams. You don’t have to. All you need to know is that it provides us with exponentially more computing power than anyone else on the planet.”
“And that’s how you manage these millions of simulations we spoke about yesterday?”
“Not just that. It means our AI has the power to continually refine parameters and assumptions using real-world, real-time data.”
“Of which you have plenty, as a social media company.”
Richard smiled. She caught on quickly.
“You can imagine how valuable that is to our advertisers. They simulate the effectiveness of their campaigns in a million virtual worlds in the blink of an eye. Then, when their campaigns hit the real world, our AI uses feedback from the platform to make the next set of simulations more accurate.”
“Does that mean they can adjust their campaigns in real-time?”
“Precisely. Now you understand why Anton Kamaras is the richest man on the planet.”
“And now he wants to give something back?”
A na?ve response. He wondered if she believed it. Richard had learned firsthand that men like Kamaras never gave back unless it somehow meant even more for themselves.
“I imagine you’re already considering the implications of our technology for your work here at the Center.”
“I think I’m starting to understand what your tools can do.”
“I’d love to hear it.”
“You’re not just allowing advertisers to sell their products, you’re allowing them to change people’s behavior.”
“Sure. That’s what advertisers have always done. They turn people who won’t buy their products into people who will.”
“But this is different. This is real-time manipulation of behaviors and opinions. Comparing this to a magazine ad or television commercial is like comparing a spear to a nuclear bomb.”
That was the potential problem with people like Dr. Adams. The ethical considerations of the Hitz-It technology might not sit well. If the algorithms that had chosen her worked as they should, that wouldn’t be an issue.
“You are exactly right. And how do you like our chances in the fight against climate change if we’re the ones using spears to fight off a comparative nuclear missile attack? Those who profit from pollution use every tool available to manipulate public opinion and fuel climate denial. We can’t change that if we’re not prepared to fight on equal footing—or better.”
“You misunderstood me, Dr. Vandergroot. I didn’t mean that as a judgment. I understand it’s my job to manipulate people, and I’m grateful for the opportunity to do it for something nobler than adding to the bottom line.”
“So you don’t have a problem with this? Ethically?”
“Not at all. We’re talking about tools. Nothing else has changed. Human relationships and societies are based on the ability to influence the actions and perceptions of others.”
Richard nodded.
“Look at it from another perspective,” she continued. “What’s the difference between Jonas Salk and Joseph Mengele? Their medical knowledge? The tools available to them? Or what they pursued?”
“I would say it’s obviously the latter.”
“And I would agree. Tools aren’t inherently ethical or unethical. What matters is how we use them.”
“So the end justifies the means?”
She shook her head.
“Too often, people take that to mean you can ignore the consequences as long as you get the desired result. I don’t believe that’s true. But if you fully weigh the good against the bad, then yes, the ends do justify the means.”
Principled—but not na?ve. Perfect.
“I couldn’t agree more,” said Richard. “Come on. Let’s get you started.”
***
As they navigated the halls of the main building, Cal explained the Hitz-It platform’s quantum computing capabilities that would help Jayson make the world a better place through agriculture. As interesting as it sounded, Jayson couldn’t imagine how it applied to his work. He defaulted to his usual practice of figuring it out along the way. Fake it ‘till you make it.
His nostrils flared at the smell of compost as they entered the agricultural lab, where a trio of researchers stood waiting.
“Jayson Reilly, I’d like to introduce you to your teammates,” said Cal.
Jayson nodded, offering a smile. He recognized one from the cafeteria crowd, but couldn’t remember her name. He’d always struggled with that—especially when he met more than a couple of people at a time.
“This is Aiden Watson,” said Cal, gesturing to the tall, muscular man in the middle of the group. “He’s the field crew foreman.”
Aiden wore jeans and a t-shirt paired with grimy work boots, proving he spent most of his time outside. He looked in his mid-thirties—older than the others.
“Welcome to the team,” he said, offering a hand.
“Riyoko Kimura,” said Cal, motioning to the young woman with raven-black hair. “She’s our nutritionist.”
“We met in the cafeteria yesterday,” she said, taking Jayson’s hand.
“And finally, Olena Voloshyn. She’s in charge of lab operations.”
“Nice to meet you,” she said with a nod.
Of the three, only Olena spoke with a discernable accent. She wore a lab coat and safety glasses—as though they’d interrupted her work.
“We’ve got a good start here in the lab, and we’re ready to move things outside,” said Cal. “It’s time to pick up our game.”
“What’s the plan?”
“Our vision of a sustainable future includes community-based farming and local sourcing. It means reducing reliance on transportation, refrigeration, processing, and packaging of foods. It means no more chemical fertilizers and pesticides.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“And your challenge is to do it here first. We want all of the nutritional needs of the Center met by onsite sources—and we want it done in less than a year. No more diesel-powered trucks shipping food to the cafeteria.”
“That’s an aggressive timeline.”
“It is. But with the resources at your disposal, it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“How does the AI play into it?”
Jayson hoped the question hadn’t exposed his ignorance.
“We’ve established a baseline of the Center’s nutritional needs, as well as some basic parameters about the yields and conditional preferences of various crops from around the world. That gives us enough information to run millions of parallel simulations of our food production.”
“Are they accurate?”
“Not likely. At least not beyond a few weeks. You’ll need to get the deviation data back into the system to improve the models. The impact of every soil augmentation, every change in precipitation, every insect infestation—you’ll predict it all with simulations, and then correct for real-world outcomes. Over time, the errors get smaller, and we can predict our ability to support a growing staff years into the future.”
It finally made sense.
“Jayson’s thesis work is on real-time agricultural data collection using connected sensors,” said Cal, turning to the others.
Jayson jumped in, eager to demonstrate his knowledge.
“Imagine a farm as a single network with connected sensors monitoring soil conditions, rainfall, etcetera. We use the data, coupled with GPS-enabled equipment, to deliver the right amount of irrigation and fertilizer to the precise locations that need it. That way, we can reduce water and fuel usage without negatively impacting yields.”
“Combined with our technology,” said Olena, “you can create a predictive model instead of the reactive one you’ve envisioned.”
Jayson’s eyes shot to the ceiling as he considered the implications for his research.
“That’s incredible. I had no idea that kind of computing power even existed.”
“We’ve already had promising results applying the technique to medical research and drug development next door where Samaira is,” said Cal. “The potential applications are limitless.”
Jayson rubbed his hands together.
“So, where do we start?”
“Plan the data acquisition network for the fields, and work with Olena to order any equipment you need,” said Cal. “Aiden and his team can set everything up to your specs, and Riyoko is familiar with the Center’s nutritional needs and the simulation data model. She can help you design the software connectors to feed your data into the system.”
Jayson felt a rush of excitement as he realized the impact he could have on the world with access to Anton Kamaras’s resources. A few puzzle pieces were still missing, but he felt increasingly confident his work at the Center could make the world a better place.
“Andrew from IT is waiting in your office to get your accounts and access set up,” added Cal, motioning to the far corner of the room. “Once you’re in, I’ll leave it to you and the team to manage your work and get things moving. Hit me if you have any questions.”
“So that’s it? The job starts now?”
“Congratulations.”
Cal nodded to the rest of the team and left, leaving Jayson in stunned silence. He’d never had a team before, and now he had to lead one.
“Let’s get together after lunch to see where we are before we prioritize the next steps,” he said, trying his best to sound confident.
He clapped his hands together and retreated to his new office, hoping to draw up a credible plan, and show his new colleagues he belonged there.
The roomy, glass-walled space was nicer than his basement cubbyhole at the university. Evidently, the people at the Center saw something in him.
“Not too shabby, huh?” said the computer tech working on Jayson’s new laptop.
“Not bad at all.”
“I’m Andrew,” added the gangly redhead.
“I’m—”
“Jayson with a ‘y.’ Got it here on the work order. Can you go ahead and enter a new password for me?”
Jayson leaned over the keyboard and entered a familiar combination of characters.
“You really shouldn’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Use variations of the same password in multiple places.”
Jayson wrinkled his brow.
“You typed the first ten characters on auto-pilot and pecked in the twenty-two at the end. That’s poor cybersecurity discipline.”
“Noted.”
“Just a few more minutes, and you should be all set. Cal had me go over some of your research papers to make sure we had the software you needed. If I missed anything, just hit me.”
“Thanks,” said Jayson. “What about hardware specs?”
“Overkill, if anything. The quantum stack handles most of the heavy crunching, anyway.”
“Right. I just didn’t recognize the brand.”
“This thing?” he asked, sweeping his arm toward the desk.
The back of his hand caught the top of the screen and sent the laptop clattering to the floor.
“Shit!” said Jayson, raising a hand to his forehead.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” said Andrew. “Richard is going to fire my ass—unless I can tell him you did it.”
“Me? No way.”
“You’ve gotta take the fall for me, man. I’m getting fired this time, for sure.”
“Listen, I can’t help you with that. I think the guy already hates me.”
Andrew laughed. He retrieved the laptop from the floor and tossed it on the desk.
“That never gets old,” he said, shaking his head.
“What?”
“It’s our own design. Everything is solid-state, and built to survive the apocalypse. We can update and repair individual modules, but I haven’t had to do that to any of them yet.”
“Jesus Christ. That wasn’t funny.”
“Sorry, man, but that will always be funny. Don’t feel bad. I get all the noobs with that one.”
Andrew continued pecking away at the keyboard, working through several dialog boxes before pushing away from the desk.
“All set, chief,” he said, jumping to his feet.
Jayson cocked his head, wondering if he’d misheard.
“Uh, that wasn’t a racial thing. I just call people that sometimes.”
“No worries. I didn’t even notice.”
A lie. He had noticed, and Andrew knew it. The computer tech turned red. He nodded toward Jayson’s teammates in the lab and changed the subject.
“What do you think of Riyoko and Olena? Not bad, huh?”
“They seem okay.”
“Have you figured out which one you’re gonna do first?”
“Huh?”
“Olena or Riyoko?”
“Uh, no,” replied Jayson, raising an eyebrow.
“Good choice. Both at the same time,” said Andrew with a wink.
“No. I didn’t—”
“Aiden?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“It’s all good, man. We don’t judge here. Love is love.”
“What I mean is, I don’t think it’s cool to objectify my coworkers that way.”
“Sure, man. Keep telling yourself that. If you need anything else—hardware, software, whatever—just hit me. I’ve already added myself to your contacts.”
Andrew turned away with a mock salute, and Jayson caught him leering as he passed behind Olena and Riyoko on his way out of the room. Gross.