The Mystery Brain
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I had an idea. I went back to my old lab on the outskirts of Boston and started studying what has left of Dr. Halsey’s old research team: the people who’d tried to figure out how her mind worked. They’d studied her for years, but they hadn’t figured out a damn thing. The only clue I found was a single photograph. It showed a young man with black hair, wearing a white coat.
He was smiling at something he must have thought very funny—it wasn’t easy to tell if it was me or not. His name was John Rainbird—his father had been in the army until he got shot up fighting on Mars; his mother was a doctor. She’d died giving birth to him.
The doctors had told him that he might never be able to walk properly again, but he’d gone home and started working with computers. Eventually, he became the director of the Department of Neuro-Psychiatry at Harvard Medical School.
He must have done some good work, too, because after his mother died, he decided to give the whole field another try. I called Dr. Rainbird myself. He gave me all kinds of advice, and eventually, I asked him about the mysterious photo. “That’s John Rainbird,” he said. “He’s still around.”
“Is he interested in my case?”
“You mean is he interested in you personally? No, not really. But he knows your history.”
“How well does he know me?”
Rainbird smiled. “Well enough, apparently.”
I didn’t ask any more questions. I knew what I had to do. I made plans to fly there the next day. I couldn’t afford to go through normal channels; I needed special clearance since I wanted to see him alone. That would cost some money; so I paid the price with one of the fake identities I used as a backup plan.
Dr. Rainbird met me at the door. He was about sixty, with graying hair, blue eyes, and a pleasant face. He greeted me warmly, shook hands, and led me down a hallway to an office that seemed like his own personal space—everything looked familiar, just as if I’d been here before.
It took him a long time to get comfortable and start talking, and when he did, I found myself thinking that I was probably older than he was, although in the photos of us, I always looked much younger. We talked about our lives.
“What are you doing now?” he asked.
“Working on a cure for my condition.”
“For your condition?”
I shrugged. “Yes. I’m trying to understand what makes humans different from robots.”
“So what exactly is it you’re looking for?”
I told him about my trip to Paris, and how I’d found out where I was.
“Are you certain they were robots?”
“No, I can’t be sure. But their behavior is consistent with my theory of human uniqueness, which is that we aren’t conscious in the same way that other animals are. Robots are designed to behave in ways that make sense only to people—they have no real personalities, and they don’t think like us.
So it seems obvious to me that I’ve never seen a robot that behaves as naturally as a human being would.”
He nodded, smiling politely. Then he leaned forward slightly and looked at me directly. “Have you ever heard of someone named John Rainbird?”
I shook my head.
“There’s a chance that Rainbird could be the answer to your question,” he said. “Maybe even your biggest challenge. Do you want me to find out for you?”
The idea intrigued me. I said yes and waited patiently while he made the arrangements. It wasn’t that difficult—there weren’t many people who knew me by that name anymore.
It wasn’t easy, though, to explain to Dr. Rainbird how I wanted to meet him.
“We’re not supposed to meet outside of these places,” I told him.
“But that doesn’t prevent us from meeting each other,” he countered.
I sighed. “Look, it’s better if you wait for me here. When I’m ready, I’ll send a coded message.”
“Why don’t we use a regular phone line?” he asked.
I laughed. “I wouldn’t risk it,” I said. “And besides, what would happen if we had to change our minds?”
He chuckled and then looked at the door of his office. “Don’t worry about security, Mr. Smith. If anyone comes near us, I’ll know it.”
I didn’t like the sound of that one bit. “Who—”
Then we heard it: a deep bass drone. It seemed to come from everywhere. A few moments later, I felt something hit my left arm—a soft vibration. I turned to see that Rainbird was holding up an object I hadn’t noticed earlier. He touched it; a moment later, the noise stopped.
Rainbird held it against his ear and listened for several minutes. He nodded, satisfied. “They should be safe.” He handed the item back to me.
“Do you always carry weapons like this?”
He smiled. “Not usually, but lately, things have become dangerous.” He glanced at the door. “Now let’s get out of here.”
***
Rainbird took me back to his car. He drove without any kind of escort, so I guessed he’d made a deal with the police to keep away from me. He dropped me off at a parking garage, and we parted company there.
As soon as Rainbird was gone, I sent my code to him. Then I went inside the garage.
I got a good look at Rainbird’s car, and I memorized its license plate number. I figured the last thing he expected was someone taking a closer look at his vehicle. I thought about getting out and finding a pay phone, or else trying to use my cellular phone as a modem and connecting to the Internet via a wireless connection, but then I decided against it.
Instead, I walked into the garage and headed straight toward the elevators. I got into an elevator that was almost empty, stepped aside from it, and rode up to the top level. I got off when I saw that I was on Level Four.
From there I climbed to the roof, and then down to the street, where I waited in a dark corner for several minutes before Rainbird arrived. The elevator doors opened, and then I spotted Rainbird’s car coming in from above. He was alone. He parked next to my car and got out.
“Good day?” I asked.
Rainbird looked at the ground. “Not so great.”
“What happened?”
“You were right about them being robots.”
I sighed heavily. “How did they react?”
“Well, nothing. They didn’t try to attack us. They just stood there and stared at me.”
I looked around. “Where are they now?”
“Sitting in the lobby,” Rainbird said. He motioned to the building. “They’re waiting for you.”
“All right, I’m on my way.”
“Wait,” Rainbird said, stopping me. “This isn’t going to be pleasant.”
“No?”
“It might be better if you stay behind.”
“Are you joking?”
He shook his head. “Sorry. But if you don’t go with them, there’s no telling what they might do.”
“That won’t happen to me. I promise.”
“All right, suit yourself. Come here.” Rainbird pulled two handguns from his holster. “Take these,” he said, tossing one of the pistols to me and one to Rainbird himself. Then Rainbird put his hand on my shoulder and steered me through the revolving door. As we entered the lobby, he stopped me again, turned to face the robots, and aimed his gun.
“Stand still,” Rainbird warned them. “Nobody is shooting you today.”
The robots sat down and looked at Rainbird with their flat black eyes.
Rainbird holstered his weapon. “Come on, Mister Smith,” he said, leading me away from them. “Let’s go home.”
***
We walked past all three robots as though they weren’t there. Rainbird led me to the elevator, stepped inside, punched up a floor, and held open the door until I reached it. Then he followed us inside. The doors closed, and Rainbird hit the button for the ground level.
Rainbird kept his attention on my back as we descended, and the robots never moved. Finally, we got to the ground floor and exited. I turned right toward the exit, following Rainbird, who led me out into an alley and then into a nearby building. We went up a couple of levels, and Rainbird stopped at an apartment.
I knew it wasn’t Rainbird’s because we passed by another door that had his name and address on the outside. The one we were at had no name at all. Rainbird knocked once, and then he pushed the door open. I stepped inside.
Rainbird locked the front door, and then he turned to me and said, “Stay close.”
I followed him into his apartment. When I stepped inside, I immediately smelled coffee brewing. I went over to his kitchen table and grabbed a mug. Rainbird came out of the living room wearing a white robe; he’d probably been watching TV.
“I’m sorry to disturb your evening,” Rainbird said. “But I think you know why I called you in.”
I sat at the table and filled my cup. “Why am I here? To give them their data drive?”
“No,” Rainbird said, setting his own drink down beside the mug I was using. “I need you to come with me.”
Rainbird took some papers out of his drawer and set them on the coffee table. He spread them out, revealing a blueprint of a large area of land—a square parcel surrounded by high walls covered with barbed wire fencing. Rainbird pointed to it. “Do you recognize this?”
I glanced at the map. “A cemetery?”
“Yes,” Rainbird replied. “And not just any cemetery, either.”
“It’s in New Jersey?”
“Right.”
“Where?”
“Haven’t you heard the news lately?” Rainbird leaned forward. “Have you seen a headline?”
“The cemetery is gone.”
Rainbird nodded. “Gone. All of it.”
“How did they get it out of here?”
“Some sort of giant robot?” Rainbird laughed humorlessly. “No, they used humans, lots of them. And when they were done, everything else was demolished: the buildings surrounding it, the streets, the sewers… Everything except the cemetery itself.”
Rainbird paused, staring at the floor. “The cemetery was supposed to be buried forever.”
I looked back at the map. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” Rainbird said, picking up his pen and turning his attention back to the paper. “It just disappeared.”
“So how did they get it out?”
Rainbird shook his head. “Who knows? Perhaps they simply teleported it away.”
“Teleported?” I repeated.
Rainbird nodded. “I think we’ll find that’s exactly what happened.”
Rainbird picked up his coffee, turned, and left the room, heading to the bathroom. He shut the door behind him. After a moment or so, he started humming the theme music from Jaws. That gave me something to watch while I waited for Rainbird to finish washing up.
It also served to make me feel less nervous about being there—if Rainbird felt relaxed enough to hum along with one of his favorite movies, I could certainly relax, too.
When Rainbird returned to his spot next to me, I asked him, “Why does it have to do with Haven?”
Rainbird didn’t answer immediately; instead, he took a sip of his drink. Finally, he said, “Haven is dead.”
I couldn’t tell if he meant that literally or figuratively.
“I told you before,” Rainbird said, “that Haven had already lost its mind by the time we arrived. I don’t know what’s left of it now, but I doubt anything’s alive.”
He stared down at his lap and finally said, “They’re coming. They’re coming to destroy what they can’t get. And they’ve sent us here to prevent that.”
The End