Page 12 of Dark Island: Rescue
5
NAVUH
Navuh stood at the window of his office, hands clasped behind his back, watching the construction crews swarm like industrious ants over the damaged sections of the compound. It was costing him a fortune to bring so many tradesmen to the island, and the security risk associated with so many humans roaming freely was not negligible, but the sooner the repair work was done, the sooner he could reopen the brothel for the influential businessmen and politicians the exclusive resort attracted.
What they paid for the privilege of being guests on the island was substantial, but it paled in comparison to what the information he extracted from them was worth. Even more profitable was what he could get them to do for him in exchange for him keeping recordings of them with lovely young women in compromising situations from surfacing on social media.
In the meantime, though, Navuh could focus on improving his enhanced army.
Three days had passed since Doctor Konstantin Petrov's arrival on the island, but Navuh had deliberately waited before summoning the man to his presence. Better to let him acclimate while observing him when he wasn't aware of being watched.
Was he really as mad as the medical records from the insane asylum claimed? Or was it an act?
The surveillance team's reports had been interesting. The Russian spent most of his time going over Doctor Zhao's research files while drinking vodka. He'd filled five handwritten notebooks with equations and diagrams that looked like the fevered scribblings of a madman. Which, technically, they were.
The intercom on Navuh's desk buzzed, and a second later, his assistant's voice sounded through the device. "Lord Navuh, Losham and Doctor Petrov have arrived."
"Send them in," Navuh replied without turning away from the window.
Losham entered first, and even without looking, Navuh could picture his adopted son's appearance—immaculate as always and dressed in a perfectly tailored suit that remained crisp despite the island's humidity. Losham understood the importance of presentation.
A pang of sorrow pierced through Navuh's heart as he thought about Lokan, his real son, who had betrayed him. Lokan was a lot like Losham, intelligent, articulate, and decorous. He wasn't as brilliant as Losham, but he was more honest, more devoted, which was incongruent with the reality of his betrayal, but still true.
Unlike Losham's light, measured footsteps, thesecond set was heavy and shuffling, and curiosity had Navuh finally turn to look at his guests.
Doctor Konstantin Petrov was short, perhaps five feet seven, with wild gray hair that stuck up at odd angles as if he'd been electrocuted, and a long, unkempt beard. His rumpled gray jacket was stained, and in his hand he held a large bottle of vodka like a talisman. But it was his eyes that were his most striking feature—pale blue, almost colorless, and burning with an intensity that reminded Navuh of the enhanced soldiers' gazes.
"My lord," Losham said with a slight bow, his cultured voice carrying just the right note of deference. "Allow me to introduce Doctor Konstantin Petrov."
"In the flesh." Petrov executed an awkward bow and raised the vodka bottle in what might have been a toast or a greeting. "Lord Navuh, the king of this island. Or should I say its god?"
Navuh tilted his head. "A god?"
He liked the title, but it wasn't accurate. Regrettably, he was only a demigod.
"Because you think you can play God with consciousness." Petrov's accent was thick, his words slightly slurred. "I mean it as a compliment. I prefer working with a god than with the boring bureaucrats who run the asylum."
Losham's face tightened with barely concealed mortification. "My apologies, Lord Navuh. Doctor Petrov is not entirely lucid, but that's the best we were able to achieve. His brilliance seems to manifest most clearly when he's drunk."
Petrov took a swig directly from the bottle. "Alcoholsilences the screaming. It's a crude medicine but effective." He walked to one of the chairs facing Navuh's desk and collapsed into it uninvited. "Your Doctor Zhao was an amateur, by the way. Brilliant, but still. He was like a child who discovered fire and immediately tried to burn down the house."
Navuh's eyes narrowed. The disrespect Petrov was showing him and Zhao's work should have angered him, but he found himself oddly intrigued. "Explain."
Petrov leaned forward, his unfocused gaze suddenly sharpening. "The enhancement compounds were crude but effective." He lifted his bottle. "Like this." He took another long swig. "They forced uncontrolled evolution through chemical trauma. Zhao didn't understand what he was doing. He thought he was enhancing the soldiers. Ha!" He took another drink. "He was breaking down the barriers between individual consciousness and the quantum field. Creating accidental mystics. No wonder they went insane."
A quantum field? Mystics?
Navuh had a vague understanding of quantum theory, but nothing that could explain what happened to the enhanced soldiers. Petrov might be talking nonsense and using terms he thought Navuh didn't understand to make himself appear smart, or he might be simply just as mad as the doctors from the insane asylum had claimed.
"Can you improve upon his work?" Navuh sat behind his desk.
"Improve?" Petrov laughed, a sound like breaking glass. "I can do better than improve. I can give you soldiers who touch the collective unconscious withoutdrowning in it. But first, tell me—" He gestured with the bottle, sloshing vodka dangerously close to the rim. "Do you understand what consciousness actually is?"
Losham sat on the other chair. "Doctor Petrov, perhaps we should focus on more practical matters."
"Practical?" Petrov's voice boomed. "You want practical? Fine. Your enhanced soldiers are experiencing quantum entanglement at the neurological level. Their brain chemistry has been altered to perceive quantum superposition states. They're not sharing thoughts. They exist in multiple probability states simultaneously. It's beautiful and terrible and completely uncontrolled."
Navuh leaned back in his chair, assessing the human. It sounded like drunken ramblings, but he might have genuine insight. "Do you understand what's happening to them, Doctor Petrov?"
