The Divinity Circle by Paul Casella

Author:Paul Casella [Casella, Paul]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-01-14T00:00:00+00:00

35

Governor Sweeney scrolled through the diary on his phone. He was growing tired of moving events around to accommodate these mind-numbing meetings with scientists. They always followed the same pattern. A full charm offensive for the future President, a touch of humble-bragging—they were all on this journey together, after all. Then, the balance of like-minded souls. Finally, the ever-so-serious explanation of the most up-to-date progress stage in their respective fields. He was aware of his responsibilities to the Circle, but the kill-two-birds-with-one-stone approach to finding Philip was impeding necessary schmoozing and fund-raising for his campaign. He knew where he was with politicians. The fine dining, the faux-manners, and glib off-the-record chats. The money. He especially liked the money. Donations were flooding in, despite not declaring an intention to run.

As instructed, Sweeney arrived at the emergency exit doors to avoid attention. Dr William Wilson greeted him and swung a rubber-coated door open for them to enter. Sweeney was eager for an explanation, so he attempted to keep the pleasantries short. It did not work. Wilson even got to the word ‘Ducati’ before Sweeney moved the scientist on to more important matters.

He was aware whole brain emulation was the most crucial aspect of the Circle’s plans, but it had seemed a pipe dream to that point. The potential increase in pace of computational modelling had changed that.

They walked through a long corridor with steel doors on either side, port-hole windows serving little purpose if natural daylight was the aim. Sweeney heard the bleating of an animal and wrinkled his nose.

“What’s the smell?”

“This is where we keep the wildlife.”

“Wildlife?”

“Goats and mice, mainly. We are passing the tipping point and are moving on from the mice. Fortunately, the human subjects have carried us along much farther and more quickly than expected.”

Wilson led Sweeney to a flight of steel stairs leading to a corridor of glazed offices. The rooms included homely pictures, coir carpeting, and dark wooden desks and bookcases. As unlike a laboratory as Sweeney could imagine. He knew it was just one floor. The rest of the building was a specifically built centre of research and development into emulation. He wondered what use would be made of the structure when Wilson relocated his business to the new location. A slaughterhouse, probably, he thought.

Wilson ushered Sweeney into his office and to a chair in front of his desk. He got straight to it and handed Sweeney a buff-coloured folder. Inside were full-page profiles, including mug shots of subjects.

“May I ask why you are looking for this person?”

“He’s an old school friend, who I know hit upon hard times. I want to help him out.”

“He must have been a close friend.”

“He was,” Sweeney remained expressionless, but after turning each page, he shook his head and handed the folder back to Wilson.

“If I am to sell this to the folks in Washington, I think I had better learn more about the process.”

“My time is yours. There is nothing more important than the approval of politicians in Washington.

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