Calypso Directive by Brian Andrews Page B

typical dentist’s office. In the middle of the room was a single reclining dentist chair with blue vinyl upholstery.
    â€œRoot canal?” he joked, nervously.
    â€œWhy? Do you need one?” she asked. “No.”
    â€œAre you sure?”
    â€œPositive.”
    â€œOkay then, no root canal. Have a seat and open up,” she said, gesturing to the chair. “This will only take a sec.”
    â€œWhat are you going to do?” he asked as she shoved him into the seat.
    â€œMy technician, Jessica, is going to glue this on the back of your left upper incisor,” Abbey said, showing him a tiny white disc, the diameter of a pencil eraser and the thickness of a dime.
    â€œWait a minute—what is that?”
    Jessica the technician said, “Open up . . . just a little cleaning to prep the surface . . . a little air to dry the enamel . . . okay, now we place the device. You’re doing great . . . blue light to cure the adhesive . . . and you’re done. Easy as pie.”
    â€œSay something,” Abbey said to him.
    â€œWhat did you just do to my tooth?” he asked in between exploratory swipes with his tongue.
    Abbey looked down at the tablet computer in her palm. “Good signal strength. Good clarity. Voice ID set. Perfect.”
    â€œDid you just install a microphone in my mouth?”
    â€œNo. I just installed a transceiver on your tooth.”
    â€œYou mean you’re going to listen to everything I say?”
    â€œNo, no. Don’t be silly. We’re going to transmit everything you say.”
    â€œ Everything ?”
    â€œWhen you’re on the job, yeah, pretty much everything. This device enables you to have hands-free communication with any company resource at any time. It transmits voice data to your phone. The phone either archives the data, or retransmits the signal if you are making a call. The phone has its own built-in microphone for redundancy and to record ambient sound that the tooth transceiver misses. This feature enables you to make digital recordings of all your meetings, calls, and field operations.”
    â€œAnd what about my private life? Is that on candid camera too?”
    Abbey laughed. “Don’t worry, AJ, your personal life is not of any interest to us. If it bothers you, then when you’re off work, turn off your phone. We’ll give you a pager, and you’ll be on call . . . like a doctor,” Abbey said. “But I think that after a couple of weeks, you’ll wonder how you ever got along without our T3 system.”
    â€œWhat’s next, James Bond camera glasses?” he quipped, trying to defuse his nerves.
    â€œThe boy’s quick, Jack,” Abbey said, turning to Briggs.
    As they walked through Level Zero, AJ scrutinized the work around him. A myriad of projects were underway in disciplines as diverse as chemistry, material science, electronics, and robotics. He paused, mouth agape at a clear glass cylinder measuring ten feet tall and four feet in diameter. Inside were bees, except they were not like any bees he had ever seen before.
    â€œThey’re my newest prototype. Do you like them?” Abbey placed a hand on the enclosure. “Go ahead, step closer. Get a better look.”
    â€œHow do you prototype . . .” he stopped mid-sentence. The bees inside the glass were not actual bees, but rather robotic impersonations of bees. “Those aren’t bees!”
    â€œThey’re not real bees, but they don’t know that. They fly like bees, navigate like bees, work collectively like bees. They even sting like bees.”
    â€œWhat is it with you people and bees? Why are you making robot bees?”
    â€œThe applications are practically infinite. They’re perfect little infiltrators. I can use them to collect reconnaissance—put eyes and ears in places where people can’t go. Or, I can program them to deliver drug injections to uncooperative targets. And with