Geneva, page 6
Sarah grabs my hand and bellows in my ear, ‘Well, we wanted a distraction; be careful what you wish for, I guess.’
Keeping our heads low, we move towards the door, climb in and buckle up. The worryingly thin glass door is slammed shut, and the helicopter engine gets faster and louder. We suddenly lurch up at a sweeping angle, caught under the thermal of a sudden gust, and my stomach feels like it’s been left behind on the roof. Pavel leans over from the front and thrusts a headset at me; my shaking hands just about manage to pull it over my ears, and I lean my head against the glass. I watch Sarah in the reflection; she’s calm and pensive. As we gain altitude, the blackness of the surrounding area opens up below, broken by lines of moving cars like strings of amber jewels, the small villages clusters of diamonds as the vastness of the Alps unfolds before us. Sarah holds my hand and I grip it, tracing her fingers in mine, not wanting to let go.
We fly low across the lake, a double moon floating in both water and sky. Then we follow the line of the autobahn until the terrain rises dramatically and the chopper ascends. Buffeting in higher winds up here, I breathe deeply through my nose, praying for this to be over.
Higher still through a narrow mountain pass, we bank left and dip towards a smaller cluster of villages, soaring over an ancient-looking château before circling broadly above a remote plateau. Hidden in a dense forest of pine trees I can see a floodlit circular platform come into view, and we hover towards it. The unpredictable winds force the pilot to make a number of attempts to land, finally coming in at a steep angle. The downdraught from the helicopter pelts the snow-laden trees, causing a small blizzard as we land bumpily. I exhale and the door is opened. Sarah takes my arm and we jump out, hunching as we move away from the deafening chopper blades, and follow Pavel across the snowy ground to a staircase that spirals down to a lower level. The wind is calmer here and we are led to a steel door, which swings open as we arrive. A warmly lit concrete corridor beckons us towards a hum of voices and clinking glasses.
The corridor opens out into a vast space, a curved wall of walnut panelling and a black polished concrete floor reflecting both the assembled crowd and the spectacular view through the window on the opposite wall. It’s as if the entire side of the building is missing, revealing the moonlit Alps brushed blue, disappearing into an expanse of darkness. The room is filled with people in expensive tailoring and couture. I feel crumpled and suburban in comparison. As we enter the mass of bodies, a tray of coupé glasses hovers past and I swipe some champagne for us, thrusting one into Sarah’s hand with a wink. Laughter and the hum of small talk trickle around us: the world’s greatest minds and deepest pockets all together in one room. The adrenaline of the helicopter is clearly still pulsing through our veins as Sarah necks her champagne and reaches for a second. I take a small sip; I need to stay focused. She’s looking a little overwhelmed.
‘You OK?’
‘I feel a bit odd.’
‘It’s the altitude. You’ll be fine in a second, but take it steady?’ I nod at her second half-drained glass. She smiles. I’m about to say something else when a voice from behind us interrupts.
‘Professor Collier, I can’t tell you how delighted I am to finally meet you. I’m so honoured to receive you here as our most distinguished guest.’
The clipped Austrian accent betrays the identity of the speaker before we turn to see Mauritz Schiller smiling up at us from his chair. He is striking, his slicked-back silver hair and neat beard accentuating his angular jaw and elongated nose. Dressed in black tie, his stillness and presence seem to create a space around him, an aura of respect that one does not step into. He holds out his hand to Sarah, who steps forward and squeezes it. His eyes remain fixed on her. As always, I’m left floundering like a spare part. I decide to pitch in for the hell of it.
‘Mauritz, great to see you again. Quite the party!’
His eyes flash from Sarah to me, and the line of his mouth drops just fractionally.
‘Dear boy, welcome. Both.’
The change in his expression was almost imperceptible, but it hits me in the stomach. I turn to Sarah. Mauritz’s eyes are shining as she speaks to him. I cast my eyes around the room, taking in the luxury of the place and the elegance of the guests. Pavel is standing to attention at the side of the room, a few metres away, by the door. Ready to ‘terminate’ anyone not complying. Life and soul, he is. I scan for people I might know; the world of neurology shrinks the higher you climb, but there is no one I recognise. Still, the alcohol kicks in and I start to feel looser. I turn back to Mauritz, who is still entranced by my wife.
‘I quite understand your concerns, Professor Collier. But the presentation should be experienced first before we discuss the details.’ Sarah has a lot of questions, but I sense her pushing Mauritz too hard. I touch her arm and she breaks off her conversation with a smile. Then both their heads turn towards me. Except they’re not looking at me, they’re looking over my shoulder. A familiar voice like honey trickles into my ear.
‘How was the flight? Did you enjoy my little surprise?’
I turn to see Helen wearing a velvet tuxedo, wide lapels plunging to the closely tailored waist with no shirt, loose-fitting trousers draping over stilt-like heels, making her taller than my six feet two. My eyes trace from her lips down to her sternum and miraculously contained breasts. I feel the heat of her stare, and not knowing where to look, my eyes flick back to Sarah. She is holding Helen’s gaze with confidence as Mauritz placates her.
‘Sarah, please be assured, I promise to speak to you again after the presentation. We’re excited to hear your reaction.’ He glances at Helen, who brushes a strand of hair behind her ear to reveal the pin-dot flashing light of an earpiece. Mauritz moves away to circulate with his guests. Helen spots my glass is empty and ushers a waiter over to refill it. Pavel has joined us almost by remote control, but then I realise that he too wears an earpiece. Helen’s perfume is heavy and floral, and I can smell the powder on her cheek.
‘So, tomorrow … I was thinking, while I manage Sarah’s press interviews, perhaps you could go with Pavel out to the slopes? I know the interviews are dependent upon Sarah’s decision to endorse Neurocell, but in theory, how does that sound?’ Sarah gives me a withering look. I shrug, it’s out of my hands.
‘You boys go and have some fun while the ladies take care of business.’ It’s barbed but honest.
I smile and shrug at the Russian. His call.
‘Whatever you want.’ He sounds about as enthusiastic as I feel. This is going to be a barrel of laughs.
‘Wonderful. That’s sorted then. OK, now it’s showtime. Please excuse me.’ And with that, Helen strides powerfully through the crowd, leaving the three of us standing awkwardly.
A voice over a speaker cuts through the room, and the rumble of voices calms to a hush.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Schiller Institute. We would like to invite you to our augmented reality presentation of Neurocell. Please take a headset, and a representative from Schiller will be on hand to assist you.’
Sarah and I exchange animated glances. She takes my arm and I lead her away. We both take a set of the AR glasses and fit them over our noses. There is a slight vibration to the ear, and then a tiny pin dot of light projects an image from the corner of the lens, through the iris deep onto the retina. I blink for a second, adjusting to the feeling as we stand on the brink of something exciting and unknown, about to be transported into the future.
The sudden brightness recedes and I feel for Sarah’s hand. She squeezes mine. Hold tight, here we go.
Chapter 14
The room is still and silent as the lights are gently dimmed. The vibration of a tonal soundscape begins to rumble beneath the floor, a deep harmonic sound. The sheet glass wall of the Schiller Institute glows brighter, as if illuminated from within. The view of the valley intensifies; the dark peaks of La Pare and Wildhorn appear to slide closer together across the horizon, and in the far distance, behind the Matterhorn, a pink light breaks over the horizon. The music builds in perfect synchronicity with the rising sun; the light in the room turns to gold, then yellow, then blinding white. The glass wall begins to melt as though it is made of ice, rippling and collapsing until the entire structure itself has fallen away. The music builds to a crescendo of electronic orchestral sound. Then a voice speaks, calm and reassuring underneath the dreamy notes of a simple piano accompaniment.
‘Neurocell has been in development at the Schiller Institute since 2004. Nearly twenty years in the making, it is the culmination of millions of man hours, billions of dollars and trillions of gigabytes of information painstakingly studied and trialled to produce a digital storage capability of one hundred thousand terabytes in a chip no larger than a grain of sand. This work has enabled us to create a new technology that has already changed the scientific world. And now it’s ready for you.’
Mauritz Schiller glides silently to centre stage in front of the open window of this new dawn, and as he turns to face them, the assembled crowd takes a step forward to listen.
‘My friends and distinguished guests, I want to show you a little glimpse of how far we have come. When I was a young man, I had dreams, I wanted to be an Olympian. A skier. That dream was in my grasp until I had an unfortunate accident while in training at the Hintertux Glacier. As I was airlifted off the mountain, they thought I was dead. They fought to save my life and I survived. Brain damage left me paralysed, with just my right hand to guide me through the world. I resigned myself to the reality that I would never walk again. But reality can be augmented. Science can defy limitations. We have brought ourselves to a new dawn.’
The assembly hold their collective breath as Mauritz places both hands on the arms of his chair, presses his weight onto them and, very slowly and deliberately, stands up from his chair.
There are audible gasps.
Schiller then walks forward towards them, tall and elegant, as he must have been in his youth, and spreads his arms wide, bending from the waist into a deep bow. The music rises again and the room erupts into applause. In that moment, the floor and walls shimmer and turn from the black polished concrete and walnut to glass. Beneath their feet, the standing crowd witness a maze of rooms, computers and work laboratories. The light from the sun moves across the floor as Mauritz continues to walk forward. The crowd parts to form a passageway through the room. The vast graphic tessellation of Escher’s Metamorphosis III on the back wall begins to fragment and separate into a thousand pieces, like a puzzle unravelling. As Mauritz approaches the wall, a vertical line bisects the pattern and the two halves slide back to reveal another room.
‘Please, come with me.’
The crowd takes a few steps with Mauritz, and the entire room shifts suddenly. The open space has now re-formed into the central laboratory of the Schiller Institute. Multicoloured low lights flicker from the processors, and the buzz and whirr of the enormous bank of hard drives appear to make the entire room vibrate. On one of the monitors, a magnified image of a crystal capsule appears. On screen, it is the size and shape of a rugby ball. Entirely made of glass with millions of tiny diamonds inside, pulsating with a blue light of electrical current, it begins to float above the heads of the crowd, who stare at the image, mesmerised, pulled towards its compelling beauty. Mauritz continues.
‘Neurocell is an experimental implant. A microscopic Kevlar-coated chip that can be placed at the cranial root between the carotid artery and the vagus nerve. Less than a millimetre in size, it can be inserted with an injection through the mastoid bone behind the ear. The chip is powered by the heat of blood flowing from the artery, and information is passed magnetically into the nerve. We have been determined to find world-altering solutions to neurological diseases that will open the door to recovery for millions of people. Neurocell is the first of its kind. Our pledge is that this will be used exclusively for rebuilding damaged neural pathways and improving brain-related illnesses.
‘As I stand here, a vision of what might be possible for my particular condition, I want you to consider every other neurological disorder: damaged or corrupted nerves, blockages, plaques of the brain in Alzheimer’s patients. This technology can divert signals to unused, undamaged regions to give back life, movement, memory. This is no longer theory; we have the capacity to make this a reality. We at Schiller dedicate our findings to improving the human condition. With your help, we can bring this to every medical institution across the globe – who knows where this technology can take us. This is just the beginning.’
The crystal fractures overhead and rains down tiny diamonds across the polished black floor. Each fragment contains an exploding image: an old man hugging his daughter, his eyes bright; children laughing as they take halting first steps; members of the blind and deaf community seeing and hearing for the first time. The images accelerate in fast motion until there is a final burst of light. Across the sky, the word ‘Neurocell’ blazes over the valley and then slowly fades. The illuminated wall darkens, returning to its former solid state. The black concrete floor and glass wall, looking out across the valley, re-form. The lights dim to blackout, returning the audience to darkness. The AR presentation is over. There is no applause; the audience stands in awed silence.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, please remove your headsets.’
Mauritz is seated by the window, back in his wheelchair, just as he was.
‘My friends, what you have just witnessed is my vision. My legacy. My gift. This is what I am reaching out to you for, asking for your investment. I hope I have managed to convince you of its viability.’
A voice from the crowd interjects.
‘Professor Schiller, are you concerned about the ethical implications of its use commercially rather than medically, which of course is inevitable?’
Mauritz nods, acknowledging the question.
‘We have no interest in developing this for military purposes, or for information, social media, performance enhancement in athletics and sports, or – yes – pornography. Trust me, the financial offers have been tempting, but we have a patent, which ring-fences Neurocell specifically for medical use only.
‘Neurocell can act like a pacemaker for the brain, reconnecting and recultivating dying cells and making use of new ones to counteract the effects of early onset dementia and even, we hope, advanced cases. We have been offered a generous donation from a private benefactor this afternoon and have reached an agreement to begin the early trials in London as soon as we receive a green light.’ The room erupts with applause and heads turn, seeking out the mystery benefactor. Another voice breaks through.
‘How long do you hold the patent for?’
Mauritz’s eyes narrow and he glances over to Helen; she blinks slightly and gives a tiny shake of the head.
‘We will ensure that it is in perpetuity, but that, my friends, will be largely down to you all. Please enjoy the hospitality. I’m here to answer your questions.’
With that, Mauritz spins in his chair and heads towards the door; this is where the hard work begins. Helen strides across the floor after him and puts her hand on his shoulder, claiming him. The rest of the room is moving and buzzing with excitement as the distant beat of a techno soundtrack for the afterparty rumbles under the floor. It is only Pavel Osinov who stands completely still, galvanised. His eyes scan the room, then he breaks to leave in the opposite direction to Mauritz Schiller.
Chapter 15
Sarah
Sam Collier, my father, is standing in front of me, just as he always was, his deep-blue eyes kind and alert. He smiles and reaches out his hand to me. ‘Sarah.’ He remembered; he remembered my name. He does remember me after all. It’s him, he’s fully there, emotionally and physically. I take a little step towards him and raise my hand to take his; he’s so close I can almost feel his touch. I smile back and an overwhelming feeling rises in me; I feel so full of love, almost bursting into laughter. All the anxiety, all the tension, of holding myself together for him, staying strong for him, propping him up, is gone. We’re free from this illness, free to live again with hope. But then I blink, and he’s gone. As I remove the headset, my eyes are clouded with emotion and I take a big breath, filling my lungs with a deep draught of hope and relief. Things are just the same as they were an hour ago, but somehow I’ve just witnessed a new world of endless possibilities. This has changed everything. There is hope.
I have to compose myself, but I’m trembling. The weight of the day on which a death sentence fell upon me suddenly feels lighter. The sense of excitement from the other people in the room confirms I’m not the only one blown away. Possibly by the presentation itself, but in my mind, the dazzling AR was nothing in comparison to the mind-blowing potential of Neurocell. I turn to Daniel, who is grinning at me and searching my face.
‘You alright there?’ He holds my arm, propping me up.
‘I’m fine. I just saw my … I was just a bit overwhelmed.’
‘So? What do you think?’
‘Did you know?’
‘Yes, but I hadn’t realised it was this far advanced. We’ve been fighting a losing battle for so long now, slowing the progress of dementia with drugs, but this could offer a permanent answer.’
