The Omega Project by Steve Alten Read Free Book Online Page B

satellite-based array originally designed to home in on submarine signatures and ballistic missile activity, now traced power outages along a fractured North American energy grid.
    No one so much as looked up as we walked by.
    The general pointed to the map. “The green blips are wind farms; orange, solar arrays; the blue, hydroelectric dams. As you can see, their coverage bands are quite limited. Problem is, we can’t expand the grid without the petroleum-based plastics and other raw materials necessary to erect the infrastructure. It takes energy to make energy—in this case the energy needed to recycle raw materials for new uses, so it’s two steps forward and one back.”
    “What are those blinking red lights?”
    “Fusion reactors. All under construction. Once we get them online this grid will light up like a Christmas tree.” My uncle looked around, perhaps more for the glowing blue orb along the ceiling than for me. “The VP should just be finishing his meeting, let’s say hello.”
    Like a dutiful soldier, I followed my uncle up a short flight of stairs that led to an atrium and the outer doors of what I assumed was a conference room, with the tinting on the thick soundproof plastic windows adjusted for privacy. The general pressed his thumb to a keypad and the locks clicked open.
    Inside, seven men and two women were seated around an oval smart table. Most of the people in the lab coats were familiar—each scientist representing a key sector of the Omega Project.
    The strapping gentleman in the gray suit seated at the end of the table flashed a broad smile as he strutted around the table to embrace me. “Ike, how the hell are you?”
    “Good, Lee. Real good. Or should I call you Mr. Vice President?”
    “Let’s keep it formal for now. Turn around, let me see the back of your skull.”
    I complied without comment.
    When we were facing again, he said, “So you actually went ahead and did it. I wouldn’t have had the guts.”
    “The surgery’s fairly simple, and the results are incredible. It’s like having the Internet in your head.”
    “If it’s all the same, I think I’ll just stick with my h-phone. Sit down, pal, we have a lot to discuss. General Schall, why don’t you handle the heavy lifting?”
    My uncle motioned me into one of the two vacant chairs. “This room is a quiet zone, meaning—”
    “Meaning GOLEM can’t eavesdrop.”
    The general nodded. “Before you assume the worst, I think every person in this room would agree the computer’s performance over the last twenty-one months has been close to flawless, giving us the confidence to use the system to oversee other science-related sectors outside of the energy department. In doing so an interesting thing happened. The more we asked the GOLEM system to handle—”
    “The more efficient the computer became,” I said, looking around the room. “It’s part of the computer’s adaptive programming. Which sectors has GOLEM linked to?”
    “SEA personnel, both domestic and international, all of NASA’s missions, past and present, as well as Hubble. GOLEM’s been using the telescope as a sort of lunar GPS system.”
    “Clever. Optimizing the usage of these varied sensory systems no doubt increased the length of GOLEM’s solution strands, along with the computer’s functional IQ, again all part of its adaptive programming.”
    One of the female scientists cut me off. “Dr. Eisenbraun, does GOLEM’s adaptive programming include the development of proactive mechanisms?”
    “Absolutely.”
    “Then maybe you can explain the difference between proactive mechanisms and cognitive independence.”
    Uh-oh. I glanced around the room. The other scientists’ expressions were as disconcerted as mine must have been. “Are you saying GOLEM has been functioning independent of its programming?”
    “We’re not sure,” the vice president said, “which is one of the reasons we summoned you to Washington. Dr. Nilsson’s in charge of