Whiplash

“Blue,” he said, and the door opened.

“Are you going to ask my favorite color?” Brea

“Just thought I’d lighten things up for the colonel,” said a short woman dressed in a black pantsuit as she stepped out from behind the security station opposite the door. It was her voice that Da

“This is Sergeant Mercer,” said Brea

“Procedure,” said Mercer. “Lighten up, Colonel. I promise not to hurt.”

Mercer took what looked like a lipstick holder from her pants pocket and waved it around Da

“He’s clean. Likes the Yankees, though. Might be a problem.”

“Your little wand told you that?” said Da

“We have our ways, Colonel. Welcome aboard.”

The room they had entered was a long, rectangular space that held a security station and an elevator to a lower level. The elevator had no visible controls, nor did it work by voice command. You simply entered and were whisked downward. Da

“What if I changed my mind?” he asked Brea

“Then you get out at the bottom and get back in,” she said as the door opened on the lower level. “But I don’t believe anyone has ever changed their mind. Come on.”

Da

Cabinets were clustered around the girders at the far end. These were computers, most working as massively parallel units in so-called “cloud” arrangements. Thick cables snaked across the floor, co

Overhead lights came on as Brea

He stopped a foot from the wall.

Brea

Da

He put his hand forward, touching the surface of the wall. It felt solid, as solid as any of the walls in his house. He tapped his fingernails against it, made a drumming sound.

I’m losing my mind, he thought.

“Da

Convinced he was about to wake up from the most involved dream he’d ever had, he took a short step to his left, aligning himself with the exact spot Brea

Into a well-furnished reception area.

He turned back around. The wall was a solid, a darkish beige color on this side.

“It’s nanotechnology,” said Brea

“Is it really there?”

“Absolutely. Touch it.”

“I did,” said Da

“But you can move through it, if you move deliberately,” she said. “And if it recognizes you. Like this.”

Brea

“Parlor games are difficult to resist,” said a familiar voice.

Da

“Doc!” said Da

“Apparently,” said Rubeo. There was a slight bit of gray around the temples, but otherwise very little about him had changed in the past fifteen years, including his frown. “Though in this place you never really know.”

Rubeo was no longer a government employee. But several of his companies were under contract to the Office of Technology, and when Brea

“I suppose you want an explanation about the nano wall,” said Rubeo.

“Well, yeah.”

“Very well. It’s a parlor trick.”

The wall worked by arranging energy within certain frequencies; to put it crudely, it was as if molecules were iron shavings in a child’s Etch A Sketch game, and used to draw a wall. The field could be broken by movement at certain speeds, but not others; the wall could not be penetrated by bullets, for example.

“So it could protect against a missile?” asked Da

“Concrete is just as effective.” Rubeo waved his hand. “There are perhaps some uses for camouflage, that sort of thing. Or very expensive walls.”

It also made a high-quality projection screen.

“Have a seat,” said Brea

The wall morphed into a crisp video display, the sharpest Da

“Another parlor trick,” said Rubeo, this time with a touch of pride.

The video ended abruptly, replaced by the seals of the CIA and the Department of Defense.

“The Office of Technology is involved in a lot of projects,” said Brea

The CIA still had its own technology department, separate from Brea

Whether directly funded by the CIA or through the Defense Department, the problem wasn’t coming up with new technology. It was getting it out of the developmental labs and into the hands of field agents. Brea

“Is Whiplash going to be a CIA command?” asked Da

“Neither,” said Brea

“How?”

“We’re going to work that out. You’re going to help.”

“OK.”

Brea

“Let’s introduce him to MY-PID,” she told Rubeo. “We have a meeting soon and I’d like him to be familiar with some of the technology.”