“I know. That’s why I am making it. Oh yes, one other thing. But we can take care of that tomorrow as well.”

“What is that?”

“I want to see a lawyer.”

Benicoff waited until Brian had finished his breakfast before he went in to see him. Made small talk about his health, the weather, told him that he was trying to get a court order to unlock the computer file which might be in later in the day, waited for Brian to open the topic. Waited in vain. Had to do it himself in the end.

“I got a pretty disturbed call from Dr. Snaresbrook. She tells me that you want to stop the memory sessions. Want to tell me about it?”

“It’s, well, a kind of personal matter, Ben.”

“If it’s personal — then I’m not asking. But if it bears upon my investigation, or AI, then I’m interested. They are all really tied up together, aren’t they?”

“I guess so — which doesn’t make it any easier. Can I talk to you as a friend, then? Which I think you are.”

“I take that as a compliment. And we were pretty good friends before all this happened. What you have gone through was damned rough — I can tell you truthfully that a lot of people wouldn’t have made it. You’re a tough mick and I like you.”

Brian smiled. “Thanks.”

“No thanks needed or expected. And I’ll be happy to be taken into your confidence. With the qualifier that you shouldn’t forget that I am still in charge of the Megalobe investigation. Anything that you say that has to do with the case will have to be for the record.”

“I know that — and I still want to help with that as much as I can. For my own sake as well. When I grow up — or when I grew up — past tense — I invented AI, then had it stolen from me along with my memory. So now that I know that AI can be built, I’m going to reinvent it if I have to. But I am going to do it, not another guy with my name. Am I making any sense?”

“In a word — no.”

They both laughed at that. Brian threw back the covers and put on his robe, kicked into his slippers. The window was open and he went and stood before it, breathing in the clean ocean air. “A lot better here than the Gulf. Too humid there, too hot, I never did get used to it.” He dropped into the armchair.

“I’ll say it another way. Let’s imagine that what happened to me, the shooting and everything, let us say that this thing happened to you. There you sit, thirty-seven years of age…”

“Many thanks. Fifty is closer to it.”

“Right. So how do you feel if I told you that you got knocked on the head and that you are really seventy years old? But that’s okay because I’ve got an invention that will jiggle around with your mind and make you seventy again.”

And Benicoff frowned into the distance. “I’m beginning to get to what you mean. I don’t really want to be that old without having lived to be that old. Bringing back those memories would be like letting a stranger into my head.”

“You said it better than I could. That’s exactly how I feel. If I find out that there are holes in my past memory, things that I need to know but have forgotten, sure I would like to fill the holes, so we are keeping on with the brain sessions. But I’m going to grow into the future, not have it pumped into my head.”

“What about your education? You can’t very well say that you have a degree in something that you can’t remember.”

“Point taken. If I can’t remember something then I’ll just have to relearn it. I have a transcript from graduate school, lists all the courses and lectures — and I’ve a copy of my reading list. And the doc says that if those memories are still there we might be able to find them. I’m willing to do that. If not — I’ll just learn them again. In fact a lot of the texts are completely outdated and I’ll need help on my reading list.”

“Let me see your list for Expert Systems. I still try to keep up with the literature.”

Brian looked up, startled. “But I thought you were…”

“A civil service drudge! I just grew into that role — and not by choice. I started out writing Expert Systems and went from that into troubleshooting others. I got so good at it that I ended up here. The sad story of my life.”

“Not too sad. Not everyone can phone up the President and have a chat—”

As if on cue the telephone rang and Brian picked it up, listened then nodded. “Right. Tell him to come up.”

“And I’ll be going,” Ben said. “I already made that lawyer you had on the phone just now wait an hour until I was through.” Ben laughed at Brian’s shocked expression. “The President’s investigator is all-seeing — never forget that. Part of that job is seeing that you stay alive. All visitors are screened. For the time being privacy is out.”

As he said this Ben put his finger to his lips, then pointed upward and shaped his mouth to silently say General Schorcht. Brian nodded understanding and Ben left.

He should have thought of that for himself. His terminal led right to the General and here, on a military base, it stood to reason that the room was probably bugged as well. That was something else that he had to keep in mind.

“Come in,” he called out when he heard the knock. His eyes widened when the uniformed Army officer opened the door. His name tag read Major Mike Sloane.

“You asked to see me.”

“Not knowingly. But I did want to see a lawyer.”

“Then that’s me.” He smiled, an easy grin on his lean, tanned face. “Adjutant General’s office. Cleared for Top Secret, which is how I got to read your file. So tell me, Brian — what can I do to help?”

“Are you, well, sort of cleared for civilian law as well?”

Mike laughed. “There is only one kind of law. I slaved in the legal snake pits of Wall Street before I opted for travel, education and career.”

“How are you on contracts?”

“A whiz kid. That was one of the reasons I enlisted — to get away from corporate law.”

“An important question then. Will you be helping me — or the Army?”

“A good question. If there is an overlap the military comes first. If this is strictly a civilian matter it is confidential between us, or until you hire civil counsel. Going to tell me what it’s about?”

“Sure. As soon as I know that it is confidential. I know that my terminal is bugged — is there a chance that this room is bugged as well?”

“Now that is what I call an equally good question. Give me a few minutes to make a call and I’ll see if I can give you an answer.”

It was more than a few minutes, closer to an hour before the Major returned.

“Right, Brian, what can I do for you?”

“Was the room bugged?”

“Naturally I cannot answer that. But I can assure you that our talk is confidential.”

“Good. Then tell me — can I sue Megalobe for not protecting me, for putting me in a situation that was hazardous to my health?”

“My first reaction is to say ‘Not easily.’ The government owns a good share of the company and no one ever got rich suing city hall. Then I’ll have to see a copy of your employment contract.”

“It’s on the table, right over there. That is what got me upset. And I don’t really want to sue them, the threat will do. Any threat to get a better contract than that one. Do you know all about me — about my memory?”

“Affirmative. I read the complete file.”

“Then you will know that I have no memory of the past few years. So I was reading some of my correspondence and I discovered that far from being a benefactor, Megalobe put the financial squeeze on me when I ran out of money to finish developing my AI. I discovered, unhappily, that I was almost completely bereft of any financial sense. But I wanted to finish the work so much that I let myself be bullied into signing that contract. Which appears to give the company a lot more than it gives me.”

“Then reading it takes top priority.”