working with terrorists on a bioterror plot, had become laughably implausible. And she had warned them about Smith and had risked herself to extricate them.
And although he tried to resist, her looks and personality continued to cast a spell on him. As much as he needed to affix his gaze solely on the entrance and stay alert at all times, he found his eyes inexorably returning to hers as they spoke. He needed to keep the Greek myth of the Siren sea nymphs firmly in his mind. Was he really being as objective in considering her arguments as he needed to be? Were there holes that he was failing to consider?
However much she explained away, he kept returning to the same place: the deaths surrounding her childhood were indisputable. Griffin had verified as much when Desh had been asleep on the hacker’s couch. And the evidence against her in the killing of Lusetti and her brother was airtight. As appealing as he found her and as artful as her explanations had been, it was still more likely than not that most of what she said was an elaborate fabrication.
They both hungrily ate their first piece of pizza in silence, after which Desh announced his plan to use the restroom and scout the mall once again. He spent a few minutes in the restroom scrubbing his face with soap and cold water, feeling reinvigorated as he did so, and then exited the restaurant.
Throngs of brightly colored shoppers of every description paraded through the mall in all directions, creating a random, ever-changing mosaic of humanity. Some race-walked as if on an urgent mission while others strolled leisurely. Some were empty handed while others carried soft-pretzels, ice cream, elaborate purses, or plastic shopping bags filled to the brim with recent purchases. A young girl pointed excitedly to a pair of shoes though a window as her mother looked on with an amused expression on her face. Desh envied them their untroubled innocence.
He pretended to look in a few store windows and wander through the mall for the next five minutes, furtively scanning the crowd as he did so, but detected nothing out of place and no sign of pursuit.
He returned to the booth to find that Kira was almost finished with her last piece of pizza and the waiter had refilled his drink. Kira eyed him warily as he sat down. “Any suspicious activity?”
Desh shook his head. “I think we’re probably in the clear,” he said. “If they haven’t found us by now, they’ll have moved on. They’ll never believe we’d do something as stupid as making sitting ducks of ourselves—literally—in the middle of a busy restaurant.”
“Stupid like a fox,” said Kira with a twinkle in her eye.
Desh smiled. He lifted a large slice of pizza and gestured to Kira. “By all means, continue,” he said. “You left off when your boss turned up dead.”
Kira gathered herself and resumed her narrative. “After the break-in, Morgan’s death, and discovering the listening devices, I became more secretive than ever. I routinely swept for listening devices and I performed all animal experiments in my condo rather than at NeuroCure’s facilities.” She paused. “I worked on both of my primary goals at the same time, but I achieved the leap forward in neuronal optimization first.”
“How long after the break-in?” he asked.
“About nine months.”
“I assume you tested it to be sure it worked.”
“Yes. I engineered a batch with an exceedingly short half-life in case there were complications. I was only in this state of super-optimization for about two seconds, but it was enough.”
“Enough for what?”
“Enough to be certain I’d succeeded. Those two seconds felt like five minutes. The first level of optimization is beyond description. The second level is beyond imagination.” Her eyes widened in wonder. “It was a transcendent level of thought. Awe-inspiring. So much so that I was afraid to ever try it again.”
This time Desh knew only too well what she meant. Once again, she had been afraid of the corrupting influences of untold power.
“The lower dose was having a cumulative effect,” continued Kira. “The more I transformed myself the greater my tendency to embrace the idea of ruthlessly selfish behavior. My emotional side became ever more suppressed, and my feelings of superiority continued to increase. It’s hard enough retaining the vestiges of altruism when you become convinced there is no afterlife. And when you’re powerful enough to do whatever you want. It’s even worse when you begin to see normal human intelligence as pathetically insignificant.” She looked troubled. “If this was how I began to view humanity when optimized to the first level, how would I view our species if I spent more than two seconds at an even more elevated level?”
Desh continued eating as she spoke but he was quickly losing his appetite. Was there really a plane of intelligence so elevated that normal human intelligence didn’t register? He killed insects without much thought. Beings whose intelligence was as far beyond human intelligence as his was beyond an insect couldn’t be blamed for indifference to human life, or even active slaughter of any human that stood in their way.
God as ruthless sociopath?
Or was God, despite infinite power and intelligence, the one exception to the “absolute power corrupts absolutely” rule? Even assuming everything in the bible was completely true, the answer to this question was not obvious. Religions that would be appalled at a characterization of God as anything but a loving father readily accepted that He had wiped all life from the planet, save for two members from each species, simply because He was annoyed at humanity’s bad behavior.
Desh pulled himself from his brief reverie and considered the woman in front of him, whose large, expressive blue eyes continued to act as black holes, drawing him into their irresistible gravity wells, defying his every effort at resistance. He needed to stay objective. It was time to get at the heart of the matter. “You’re very good,” said Desh. “I’ll give you that. But before you go any further I’d like to back up. I want you to explain the deaths of your parents and uncle. And the murder of one of your teachers and the disappearance of another.”
She frowned and shook her head. “My parents and uncle died in accidents. As far as the teachers go, I have no idea what happened to them. But I had nothing to do with it.”
“So you acknowledge that one disappeared and the other was killed horribly, by an obvious psychopath?”
“How could I not? It’s the truth. I’ll never forget it. It was all anyone could talk about for a long time.” She leaned in intently. “Are you suggesting you have evidence that I committed these crimes?”
“No. But the circumstantial evidence is pretty conclusive.”
“It’s only
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, if you already think I’m a psycho killer and you examine my past through this lens, you’re bound to find evidence to support this contention. This is classic data mining. You draw a conclusion and then mine the data retrospectively to find support for it. You invariably do. I’ll bet if we looked at your hometown and vicinity over all the years of your childhood we could find a disappearance or two, some murders, a few
“Probably. A few random events can be explained away as coincidences, but there is a limit. Your teachers —maybe a coincidence. But add in both of your parents and your uncle as well—I’m not buying it.”
Kira shook her head, pain etched in every line of her face, as if the wounds from these tragedies had never entirely healed. “I don’t know what to say. But I’m willing to bet you can find others who lost parents and also a relative in tragic accidents. Bad luck happens, David,” she insisted. “One of the ways I got through it all was by reminding myself of this. I was at least lucky enough to have many good years with my parents. There are orphans and kids in war zones who aren’t even that lucky,” she finished.
Desh frowned. This line of discussion was getting him nowhere. He wondered why he ever thought it would. What had he expected, a confession? And she did have a point. He
Desh sighed. “Let’s table this one for a while,” he suggested. “Why don’t you tell me about your fountain of youth.”
