Free Nerve Center by Jim DeFelice, Dale Brown Page B

distinguished Bette Midler. She’d come from Cuba as a girl, though the only trace of an accent was a slight tendency to roll her is when excited.
    Like now.
    “Those drawbacks, which Dr. Rubeo has himself outlined, can be overcome with ANTARES. I have kept abreast of the latest exercises, Colonel; four planes cannot be handled adequately with the present arrangement.”
    “Four can be. We should put our resources into the next generation of control computers,” said Rubeo. Tall and rangy, in certain lights he looked like a young Abraham Lincoln.
    This wasn’t that kind of light. He looked and sounded a bit like an out-of-control animatronic character at Disney World.
    “ANTARES made C3 possible,” said Geraldo.
    “Piffle.”
    “You’re suggesting that the computers would completely fly the planes,” said Geraldo.
    “They already do,” said Rubeo.
    “You cannot remove human beings from the equation.” Geraldo held out her hands and looked at Bastian triumphantly, having played her trump card.
    “I can’t say I disagree with that,” admitted Dog, “though I’m not sure I accept ANTARES as fully human.”
    “It’s as human as language,” said Geraldo. “That’s all ANTARES really is—a very special language. A way of talking to a computer, which happens to control an airplane. Or several.”
    “Piffle,” repeated Rubeo. “It takes over three quarters of the subject’s brain. Tell me that’s human—tell me that’s better than using computers as tools designed to do a specific job. Computers that we can document every function of, every byte of information and logic.”
    Bastian leaned over the table toward Geraldo. She reminded him a bit of the dean of students at his college, an almost matronly sort who could outdrink any sorority on campus.
    “If we build on the previous program, what would be the next step?” he asked.
    “First, we need a subject. My preference would be someone who is ‘clean,’ someone who not only hasn’t worked with ANTARES before, but who doesn’t know how to fly. If we work with a clean slate, we won’t have barriers or bad habits to break. I believe from my review that the biggest hurdle to joining with the computer has been the learned patterns associated with flight. To use my language metaphor again—when you learn a new language, the old one gets in the way. And that goes for ANTARES as well. 1 would propose a whole host of changes from the old program, including some bio enhancements.”
    “Drugs,” sputtered Rubeo.
    “Yes, drugs,” said Geraldo. “Supplements actually, designed to enhance neural and other brain functioning. The tests have already been conducted.”
    “Mmmm,” said Dog noncommittally.
    “On the other hand, using someone already familiar with the procedure would cut down on the start-up time.” Geraldo nodded as if responding to an argument Dog hadn’t made. “At present, there’s only one person on base who has used ANTARES, and that is Major Jeff Stockard.”
    Geraldo opened the folder in her lap, consulting her notes. “I’d prefer to have someone else,” said Bastian. “Jeff is the only pilot presently assigned full-time to the Flighthawks.”
    He also didn’t want to waste him on a project that, in his opinion, might—or should—end up being a dead end.
    “But a non-pilot?” he added. “I don’t know. What if something goes wrong? Who takes over the plane?”
    “C3,” said Geraldo. “The computer defaults have been well tested. C3 is very capable, Colonel; I actually agree with Dr. Rubeo that for all intents and purposes it could fly the planes. Just not as well.”
    She smiled at Rubeo, but he wasn’t buying the bouquets.
    “And unlike DreamStar, the ANTARES pilot will not actually be aboard the U/MFs,” Geraldo added. “So there really is no necessity for the subject to be a pilot.” She glanced at her folder notes. “I have also recorded a steep learning curve for pilots transitioning to the Flighthawk