Why would they need to know about the projects? Karl asked. Wouldn’t finding the lab had anything to do with installed intelligences be reason enough to target it?
“Perhaps to the stray madman, but a lunatic like that couldn’t get security access,” Maynard continued. “He or she would need keycards, digital permissions, EPID tags, the works.”
Suppose the madman—or woman—had an extensive knowledge of cybersecurity?
“I think you know what the odds of that are,” Maynard said. “A team of twelve of the most renowned cybersecurity experts designed the safe measures around that lab. You think your average hacker could manage that?”
Thompson could, Karl commented.
“All the more reason to use caution,” Maynard replied.
“You’ve gotten older,” a voice whispered into Karl’s ear once he paused at a railing to again look around for his friend.
The psychologist spun around in alarm, a slight cold sweat covering the surface of his body. His panic dissipated when he recognized the speaker.
“Thompson,” he greeted his friend. “I’d say you look the worse for wear out of the two of us.”
The hacker smiled, exposing his large teeth that sat packed in a mildly crooked alignment in his mouth. His lips were surrounded by a thin dusting of facial hair, though Karl couldn’t tell if that was how it was meant to look or if his friend had simply neglected his grooming. Those hairs were light and silvery. The psychologist recalled that Thompson had gone gray quite early in his life.
Thompson’s hair was concealed by a worn Ushanka hat, one that he had pulled the ears down on to cover most of his face. His jacket was zipped up and the dark brown collar was pulled high. To Karl, he looked like the most suspicious outlaw he’d ever met, but to others, he supposed that Thompson merely looked like a drunk with a hangover. People weren’t likely to distinguish between the two.
“You’re alone?” Thompson wanted to double-check.
“For the most part,” Karl replied.
The hacker gave him a sort of wary eye squint, raising his brow in confusion at the same time.
“I’ll explain better when we are alone, but yes, I am physically unaccompanied,” Karl reworded.
“You’re bugged?” Thompson inferred.
“It’s complicated, but trust me, I am not a danger to you.”
“As far as you know,” Thompson retorted.
“I like this guy already,” Maynard commented.
Shut up, Karl urged.
“So, you going to start off by telling me you’re innocent?” Thompson said. “That the things they say about you aren’t true? That you’ve been set up?”
“You almost sound like you got a summary of the situation,” Karl said.
“I figured there were two likely possibilities,” Thompson started. “Either one of my oldest friends—who I’ve known for over a decade both professionally and personally—had a total personality flip and picked up mass murder and prison escape as hobbies, or you were framed. I haven’t quite decided which I think it is.”
“Thompson, there’s a traitor. More than anything, they want me to look guilty, though I have no idea why.”
“From what I’ve gathered, it was an organized attack. Flawless coordination, advanced armaments, and even body armor. But you don’t know why they attacked, do you?”
“No, I don’t,” Karl said.
“Is there anything you can think of?” Thompson spoke without haste in his tone. “Anything you were working on that might provoke such reaction?”
“It’s complicated,” Karl repeated. “Like I said.”
“You’re asking me to harbor you and, in doing so, put myself at great risk. I think you’d best explain what I’m dealing with, if you seek my help.”
Karl hesitated. His internal gears creaked as they spun and spun. They slowed, though, calming to the rhythm of his heartbeat when he managed to contemplate the request.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll have to introduce you to someone.”
Thompson made no attempt to interrupt while Karl explained his story. The hacker’s face was impossible to read, stone-like and cold like a lasagna someone had left out for too long. There was no sense of skepticism, nor was there any of belief or excitement. He chose to listen rather than react until the psychologist paused and urged him for a response with his eyes.
“I see,” Thompson replied. His tone failed to betray his inner thinking. “You were right to come to me.”
“I’m not being delusional, right?” Karl asked.
“Not at all,” his old friend answered. “From what you’ve told me, I would assume you are still in danger as well, and not just from the law. Were you able to make out any names or titles that the attackers might have called each other? Anything that could identify them?”
“Not anything that convenient,” the psychologist replied. “But the one I saw was in military gear. These weren’t homegrown extremists—this isn’t like those chaotic attacks of the terror era; these people had an inside man.”
“I agree,” the hacker said. “And you have no suspicions?”
“No one registers as a suspect in my book,” Karl started. “However, I knew few people, since I kept to myself while I worked. It could be any of the interns, perhaps a double agent of sorts.”
“Or it could be higher up,” Thompson suggested. “From what you’ve said, I would doubt an intern capable of such orchestration. Maybe they could tell others details about the lab, but I can’t imagine they’d have the kind of access that your attackers had.”
“That makes sense to me,” Maynard commented within the psychologist’s brain.
“Maynard seems to agree as well,” Karl mentioned.
The hacker gave a bit of a smile, one that a father might have when hearing about his child’s imaginary friend.
“He does, does he?” Thompson said. Then he leaned in a bit more. “What’s it like?”
“Pardon?”
“You know, having someone else in your head,” Thompson clarified. “Is it as maddening as it sounds?”
“Even more so,” Karl replied.
“You’re telling me,” Maynard said.
“He’s not fond of it, either,” Karl explained.
“Can he hear me now?”
“Yes.”
“He can see me?”
“Yes.”
Thompson had an expression like one might have when they suddenly realized they’d said something very graphic in front of a
