Brain Storm by Richard Sapir, Warren Murphy Page B

interested.
    Dr. Curt Newton, their leader, was shouting something at a group of them about proper algorithmic treatment on the neural net. It sounded like just another load of gibberish. This was common to Holz.
    Since he had stolen Newton away from MIT a few years earlier to spearhead the interface project, he had been subjected to the worst kind of scientific lingo.
    He had a nagging suspicion that these scientific types were just blowing smoke with a bunch of trumped-up terms. In fact, when this jargon seemed to have gotten completely out of hand early on, Holz decided to put Dr. Newton on the spot. The scientist wanted to conduct something called PET research as an adjunct to his interface study. Holz had demanded to know what the equipment was for.
    "It's used for diagnostic imaging," Newton had explained.
    Lothar Holz had nodded as if he understood.
    "PET stands for Positron Emission Tomography,"
    Newton had said patiently. "It gives us the chemical physiology, as well as structure of the brain." He could see that he wasn't getting through to Holz. He spoke very slowly. "A patient is injected with a glu-coselike substance which emits positrons. The positrons then collide with electrons to form photons. We can then detect and record the speed and path of the photons through the brain."

    Completely lost, Holz had asked gruffly, "Is it necessary for your research?"
    "Crucial."
    Newton had the PET imaging scanner the next morning.
    Holz felt the same way now as he had then. Everyone in the interface R&D complex in Edison, New Jersey, was running around as if preparing for a cor-onation. And they were acting as if the nondescript old man whose brain patterns they had downloaded were their new king.
    Holz tugged the picture down from above Dr.
    Newton's screen.
    The image was in color, but Holz would have argued that fact with anyone. The old man still looked as if he were in black-and-white.
    Or shades of gray, anyway.
    "What's so special about him?" he inquired blandly.
    The technician who was monitoring the rate the information was flowing into the smaller computers had just gone to the back of the room to check the mainframe.
    "Only the culmination of years of research,"
    Newton said. He snatched the picture away and replaced it above his screen.
    Feigning boredom with the entire procedure, Holz asked, "Is he really worth all this effort?"
    Curt Newton actually stopped typing and stared at him in disbelief. "Are you kidding?" he asked, shocked. "This guy is like nothing I've ever seen.
    His mind is so orderly, if we can figure out how it works, we could work backward from him. His brain would be a flawless pattern for reverse interface engineering. Years of work could literally take only weeks."
    Holz laughed derisively. "I doubt that."
    "Lothar," Curt Newton said icily, 44if you were impressed by the demonstration at the bank this morning, I can assure you that you will be stunned by what we cart do with what we learn from this man."
    Holz paused to consider. The truth was, he had been impressed by the demonstration. PlattDeutsche America had become complacent in the marketplace of late and had accepted the downsizing of the military without much of a battle. Though he hadn't exactly lied at the press conference when he listed all of the peaceful applications of the interface technology, the truth was, he was hoping to make the United States government realize what it was missing out on if it didn't sign on with PlattDeutsche. A big, fat government contract would help finance further development.
    It had been a gamble. The board hadn't been pleased with the unauthorized test at the bank and the president of the company was screaming for his head. Holz had found that out through his own Private channels. He smiled inwardly. If the president ever found out who really ran the company, he'd probably have a stroke. Holz was being called before the board for a meeting that afternoon. Maybe he'd drop the big secret on them