Goliath

“Of course. I feel the excitement an astronaut must feel on his first voyage into space. How is the crew?”

“Excited for you, very happy. And Mr. Chau finally showed up, drunk as a skunk.”

“I must speak to him.”

“No need, I’ve already handled it.”

Covah squeezes David’s hand. “Thank you. You’ve been a good friend.”

“And you will change history. Are you ready?”

“Yes. Sorceress, this is Simon Covah. I am transferring command of the ship to David Paniagua, authorization code Covah, delta-six-five-nine-ninealpha-zulu-ten.”

AUTHORIZATION ACCEPTED.

“Sorceress, Simon is ready to proceed with the interface. Instruct him.”

LIE DOWN ON THE TABLE. SECURE YOUR HEAD IN THE SADDLE. PLACE YOUR ANKLES AND WRISTS IN THE RESTRAINERS TO PREVENT MOVEMENT DURING THE PROCEDURE.

As ordered, Covah lies down on the padded table so that the back of his neck rests in a U-shaped section of padding that rises past his jawline. The fit is snug. He slips his wrists and ankles into the leather straps attached along the sides and end of the table, then takes a deep breath.

Situated high above his head is a mirror, angled so that he can see his scalp. On a small table to his left is a large, flat glass container holding hundreds of microwires. At the end of each wire, soaking in a trophic solution, is a minuscule piece of tissue, taken from the roof of his mouth.

Covah cringes as Goliath’s two surgical appendages come to life, swooping down from the ceiling to tighten his bonds. Electrodes are secured to his chest.

PULSE RAPID. BLOOD PRESSURE AND RESPIRATORY RATE RISING.

“I’m just a bit excited. Sorceress, it would be helpful if you described each step of the procedure before performing it.”

ACKNOWLEDGED.

The steel arm on his left swivels above his head, the multitooled palm rotating, stopping at a large syringe.

IN ORDER TO ACCESS PARTS OF THE BRAIN RESPONSIBLE FOR REGULATING PROTEIN AND ENZYME RELEASE, IT WILL BE NECESSARY TO REMOVE THE UPPER PORTION OF THE SKULL.

“Understood.”

ADMINISTERING LOCAL ANESTHETIC TO THE SCALP.

David’s eyes widen as the syringe is repeatedly injected into Simon’s scalp.

Covah winces. “You’re not going to put me to sleep?”

IT IS MORE ADVANTAGEOUS TO KEEP YOU CONSCIOUS UNTIL THE NEURAL CONNECTIONS CAN BE POSITIONED AND CHECKED.

“Understood.” A scalpel flashes past his eyes, sending more adrenaline coursing through his gut.

BEGINNING INITIAL INCISION TO SEPARATE SCALP FROM THE SKULL.

“David?”

“Still here.” He squeezes Covah’s three-fingered hand.

Covah closes his eyes, his breathing becoming more erratic as he feels a moderate pressure above his forehead. Warm blood drips past his left temple into his good ear. “Sorceress, is it … is it really necessary to remove so much of my skull?”

AFFIRMATIVE. ONE-HUNDRED AND FORTY-SEVEN NEURAL CONNECTIONS MUST BE INSERTED INTO BOTH HEMISPHERES OF THE BRAIN, TWENTY-THREE INTO THE CEREBELLUM, SEVEN INTO THE BRAIN STEM, SIX INTO THE PITUITARY GLAND, TWO INTO EACH PAIR OF THE TWELVE CRANIAL NERVES.

A set of forceps disappears beyond his range of sight. He gazes up at the mirror, watching in fascination and horror as the two robotic arms work furiously, slicing into his numb scalp.

RETRACTING SCALP.

Covah feels a tingling and pulling sensation as a retractor-shaped pair of steel pincers peels his scalp away from his forehead and over his crown, exposing the bones of his skull.

A small hose appears. A warm liquid washes the blood from the bone, the refuse collecting in a pan behind his neck.

He looks up at his reflection in the mirror, unnerved by the sight of his exposed skull. A tiny drill bit whirrs above his head. He closes his eyes.

DRILLING HOLES INTO FRONTAL AND PARIETAL BONES.

David’s heart pounds as he watches the drill bit push against Covah’s skull, sending intense chills through his body as it chews quickly through the bone.

REMOVING FRONTAL AND PARIETAL PLATES.

Covah opens his eyes, breathing heavily. Gazing up at the mirror, he sees the three robotic fingers of a clawed hand slip into the freshly drilled holes and lift away the two sections of bone plate covering his forehead and crown in the manner one might lift a bowling ball.

REMOVING DURA MATER. BLOOD PRESSURE AND HEART RATE NOMINAL.

Cerebrospinal fluid gushes down the sides of his head and the back of his neck. He shudders as he stares at the overhead mirror, gazing at the folds, bumps, blood vessels, and deep fissures of his brain.

“Incredible,” David whispers.

BEGINNING IMPLANTATION OF NEURAL CONNECTIONS.

Covah closes his eyes, forcing himself to relax. Minutes later, the gentle knitting sound of whirring steel pincers soothes him to sleep.

10 November

Tiananmen Square Beijing, China

The sun peeks through an overcast gray sky, reflecting off dark gunmetal tanks lined up in rows along the perimeter of Tiananmen Square. The sound of crimson flags flapping against a cold winter’s breeze greets the tens of thousands of Chinese soldiers goose-stepping through the streets of Beijing. Tanks and mobile missile launchers flank the troops on both sides. The showcase of military might moves as one into Tiananmen Square, the dominating presence of the People’s Liberation Army ensuring the president’s speech will be well received.

President Li Peng buttons the collar of his overcoat as he proceeds to the open-air podium facing the largest public square in the world. Seated in the lower-level balcony are members of the Chinese Communist Party, the National People’s Congress, and the State Council. To Li Peng’s immediate left is the vice president and the State Council Premier; to his right, his four vice premiers. Directly behind him are two dozen members of the Politburo’s Standing Committee and his predecessor, former president Jiang Zemin.

Li Peng smiles, the presence of the military parade pumping his adrenaline. He glances at his watch. Twenty-seven hours to go before the terrorist’s deadline, and yet he is anything but nervous. There are no students present, no demonstrators, just loyal Communists. The entire square itself is occupied by the military parade, the largest he has witnessed since the fiftieth anniversary of Communist China more than a decade ago. It is a tremendous show of strength, a reminder to the world that China is still a formidable superpower to be reckoned with.

Today, we will show the world that China cannot be threatened . . .

Li Peng exhales, watching his breath dissipate in the chilly November air while he waits impatiently for the television and satellite crews to complete their work. Mounted high overhead on his far right, blotting out the entire northwest section of the square, is a sixty-foot LED video screen that will be used to display his image to everyone in attendance, as well as those watching worldwide via satellite.

He turns with amusement as his face appears on the rectangular screen, greeted by thunderous applause. Tens of thousands of loyal onlookers have gathered in support, lining the galleries beyond Tiananmen Square. Dozens of crimson-and-yellow Chinese flags and banners dominate the perimeter.

China’s national anthem blasts over the loudspeakers. The president wipes a tear from his eye for the benefit