*
There was a slight jolt as the tour boat eased away from Pier 39 and angled toward the bay. Raiff scanned the contents of the sketchbook quickly, shaking his head in silent amazement at some of the drawings, the ones featuring the most detail. Donati had come around to the other side of the table to study the pages as Raiff flipped them.
“I don’t remember drawing those,” Alex told them, breaking the silence and feeling the ship being jostled by a combination of waves and the rolling wakes of the big freighters and cargo carriers clinging to the center of the channel. “It was like I was in a trance or something.”
“Machines,” Raiff explained. “Machines from my world, that practically ran my world. That’s what most of these pictures are of.”
“But how would I know about them?”
“Let’s see if this might help tell us,” Donati said, moving back to the laptop to view the results of Alex’s initial CT scan.
96
CT SCAN
DONATI SQUINTED TO BETTER view the laptop screen, scrolling through the various images. “Come have a look, Dixon. Your boyfriend has something tucked in his head besides his brain.”
This time Sam didn’t even think of correcting him. They’d just passed a family of sea lions nesting on a rock assemblage sticking out of the bay. The boat turned so they had a brilliant view of both the San Francisco waterfront and the city’s striking, if irregular, skyline. Nothing like a large city framed by the water at night.
Sam positioned herself to better see the screen Donati had tilted toward her. The object to which he’d referred was oblong, almost egg-shaped. What looked like small hairs of varying sizes jutted out from it at irregularly spaced intervals.
“You’re looking at a microchip formed of organic molecules instead of silicon, fully capable of interfacing with the human brain.”
“And these tendrils?” Sam posed, referring to the wispy, hair-like things protruding from the organic chip.
“Neuron storage would be my first guess, along with expansion capabilities. If the chip requires additional space, it simply sprouts another. We already know that DNA can reliably store data for two thousand years or more. My guess is the microchip you’re looking at has been genetically engineered to interface with Alex’s DNA in order to cram an incredible amount of information into an infinitesimal physical space.” He moved his gaze to Alex. “Looks like we found the reason you were brought to this planet.”
*
“Then the secrets we’re looking for,” Raiff interjected, “the secrets to stopping this invasion…”
“Might well be stored on that chip.” Donati completed the thought for him.
“Why not just bring it over in somebody’s pocket?” Sam wondered.
“My guess would be the electromagnetic displacement inside the wormhole,” Donati theorized. “In all probability that would cause severe damage or degradation, if not outright destruction, of anything stored on a microchip.” Donati reviewed the CT scan images again to make sure what he’d noted the first time was accurate. “I think the chip was installed while your boyfriend was still in utero, Dixon,” he added. “Have a look. You can see in some of the scans how the brain has grown over a portion of it. You can also see how the soft tissue has virtually melded to it, no attempts at rejection, which can only mean one thing.”
Donati stopped, as if waiting for a response, then continued when Sam, Alex, and Raiff remained silent, as the boat headed straight for the Golden Gate Bridge. “It was manufactured to be able to interface with the human brain and keyed to the subject’s DNA to avoid rejection.”
“You’re talking about boosting brain function the same way you might add RAM to a computer,” Sam theorized.
“Indeed I am, Dixon. But in your boyfriend’s case the chip isn’t connected to any part of the brain. That would seem to suggest it’s an independent body implanted by this means to avoid detection.”
Alex was massaging his temples. “Until I got my bell rung the other night, you mean, and the CT scan revealed it.”
Donati nodded. “Your doctor’s report here notes his utter befuddlement at its presence. There’s a record of him making a call to a neurological specialist, probably to inquire about his experience with such things.”
“That man has been eliminated as well, in all likelihood,” Raiff said flatly. “Anyone who could expose or uncover the truth behind Dancer’s presence here.”
“Which is?” Alex snapped. “I mean, please tell me, because I’d like to know. What is the truth behind what I’m doing here?”
“We’ve got another problem,” Donati said, studying Dr. Payne’s report again. “It appears the chip is now leaking.”
97
ATTACK MODE