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Authors: Andrew Vrana
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card-reader, like the kind cheap hotels still used on all their rooms. Diane produced her ID card again as they walked toward the door.
“Obsolete,” Mike remarked. “And not very secure.”
“This part of the hospital is old, and they intentionally haven’t renovated it in many years.” She slid her card through the black reader and the door began to slowly swing outward. “Don’t ask me why. All I know is, this is a safe place for our friends to work away from the all-seeing eyes of Silte.”
Through the door the hallway ended abruptly at a three-way intersection. Diane stopped him just inside the closing door and said, “Before we go on, I need to explain some things.”
“I’m not stopping you,” said Mike.
“You’re not dumb, Mike, and you have more official information than me. You know by now this so called ‘mind virus’ is Silvan’s work. What you probably don’t know is its purpose.”
“To neutralize known enemies,” he said, “and to keep potential enemies too scared to fight.” He hated himself for saying it so calmly and easily, but he had long since overcome the shock.
“No,” Diane said, prompting him to raise his eyebrows in bemusement. “Though,” she said, “that is what they want you and me to believe. The true purpose is far worse. Sickening. Mike, what I’m about to show you isn’t easy to deal with. It…well, you’ll see. This way.”
When they were moving again, she led on down the hallway to the right. It was large and white and dimly lit, the kind of dreary hospital corridor where they might stick the patients who probably would never go home. But there did not seem to be any patients here. There were long windows—most of them either dark or shuttered by blinds—that looked into large rooms. The only lights outside the hallway came from a few rooms here and there with glass walls that Mike was pretty sure were labs; occasionally he glimpsed the back of a white lab coat as someone leaned over some piece of equipment or another. Mike couldn’t help but admire their drive, being in here well after 10 p.m., making those last few calculations before they relented and got some sleep. He tried to remember the last time he had been that eager to get his work done—probably not since his days at Silvan Ventures, back when he was still trying to display his value and get that next little promotion on his way to the top. But these people were different. They were in here working overtime trying to save humanity from the evil corporate empire, weren’t they? Looking for a cure to Silvan’s plague? Mike could guess that much without having to have Diane tell him. These people were different from him, and yet somehow the same.
“It hasn’t been easy, reverse engineering OpenLife’s antiviral drug,” Diane said, confirming what Mike had guessed. “They’ve been at it for as long as I’ve been coming here.”
“Antiviral? You mean like a cure?”
“Yes.” She slowed her pace and let Mike move up beside her. The hospital—every hospital under Silte control—received a very limited batch for testing and training. If we could only figure out how to make the drug ourselves, we could preempt their next move.”
“What’s the next move?”
She looked over at him somberly but didn’t answer. Then she turned away and said, “These days, the idea of a monopoly is almost absurd. If one corporation controls a market, there will always be two or three other multinational conglomerates with the money and resources to move in and steal market shares. With that simple fact, monopolizing an entire economy is nothing more than a fool’s dream.” They finally reached the end of the hallway and took another right into a similar but much shorter, narrower one. “That is,” she said, “unless you can give up on controlling the market and instead control the buyer.”
“I’m not sure I follow you.” She was bringing up one of his biggest problems with Project
“Obsolete,” Mike remarked. “And not very secure.”
“This part of the hospital is old, and they intentionally haven’t renovated it in many years.” She slid her card through the black reader and the door began to slowly swing outward. “Don’t ask me why. All I know is, this is a safe place for our friends to work away from the all-seeing eyes of Silte.”
Through the door the hallway ended abruptly at a three-way intersection. Diane stopped him just inside the closing door and said, “Before we go on, I need to explain some things.”
“I’m not stopping you,” said Mike.
“You’re not dumb, Mike, and you have more official information than me. You know by now this so called ‘mind virus’ is Silvan’s work. What you probably don’t know is its purpose.”
“To neutralize known enemies,” he said, “and to keep potential enemies too scared to fight.” He hated himself for saying it so calmly and easily, but he had long since overcome the shock.
“No,” Diane said, prompting him to raise his eyebrows in bemusement. “Though,” she said, “that is what they want you and me to believe. The true purpose is far worse. Sickening. Mike, what I’m about to show you isn’t easy to deal with. It…well, you’ll see. This way.”
When they were moving again, she led on down the hallway to the right. It was large and white and dimly lit, the kind of dreary hospital corridor where they might stick the patients who probably would never go home. But there did not seem to be any patients here. There were long windows—most of them either dark or shuttered by blinds—that looked into large rooms. The only lights outside the hallway came from a few rooms here and there with glass walls that Mike was pretty sure were labs; occasionally he glimpsed the back of a white lab coat as someone leaned over some piece of equipment or another. Mike couldn’t help but admire their drive, being in here well after 10 p.m., making those last few calculations before they relented and got some sleep. He tried to remember the last time he had been that eager to get his work done—probably not since his days at Silvan Ventures, back when he was still trying to display his value and get that next little promotion on his way to the top. But these people were different. They were in here working overtime trying to save humanity from the evil corporate empire, weren’t they? Looking for a cure to Silvan’s plague? Mike could guess that much without having to have Diane tell him. These people were different from him, and yet somehow the same.
“It hasn’t been easy, reverse engineering OpenLife’s antiviral drug,” Diane said, confirming what Mike had guessed. “They’ve been at it for as long as I’ve been coming here.”
“Antiviral? You mean like a cure?”
“Yes.” She slowed her pace and let Mike move up beside her. The hospital—every hospital under Silte control—received a very limited batch for testing and training. If we could only figure out how to make the drug ourselves, we could preempt their next move.”
“What’s the next move?”
She looked over at him somberly but didn’t answer. Then she turned away and said, “These days, the idea of a monopoly is almost absurd. If one corporation controls a market, there will always be two or three other multinational conglomerates with the money and resources to move in and steal market shares. With that simple fact, monopolizing an entire economy is nothing more than a fool’s dream.” They finally reached the end of the hallway and took another right into a similar but much shorter, narrower one. “That is,” she said, “unless you can give up on controlling the market and instead control the buyer.”
“I’m not sure I follow you.” She was bringing up one of his biggest problems with Project
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