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As if reading his mind, Olivia spoke the words he’d been thinking, “The FBI will be knocking on our doors. It will be tricky because there is so much that I can’t share with them.” She slapped the visor back in place. “I’d like to change the subject, please.”
“You choose.” Nutsbe was paying close attention to the flow of traffic around him. He didn’t know if he was still primed from the sniper or what was happening, but a prickle across his scalp told him to stay vigilant.
Olivia watched him work the gas and brake pedals. “So how is it you can drive the car? I’m trying to work it out in my brain. I have a friend who has M.S., and once she lost sensation in her feet, she had to give up driving a standard car. She had the assistive technology installed for her hands.”
“Let me start by telling you that I can, at any point, use my hands. I’ve trained extensively and been tested for proficiency in using my bionic limbs. There’s just no leeway in state law, so I am required to have the hand capability. That’s this here.” He pointed. “Now, to answer your question, the surgeons I was telling you about in Afghanistan?”
“Yes.”
“They kept as much of my nerve and muscle tissue as possible in my residual limbs. Later, they mapped out what touch point triggered what sensation in my brain. When they touched here, it felt like my pinky toe. If they touched there, it felt like my heel. So that’s one set of sensors. Then, other sensors read the muscles in my thighs, knees, and glutes. The AI system determines the movement associated with which sets of muscles are firing. The software puts it all together, and while not perfect, it’s darned good. That group keeps making strides forward.” He sent her a smile so she’d pay attention to his play on words. “Today, I’m field-testing new prostheses. They have a system they’re experimenting with to help with stability. So far, high marks.”
“Science being accumulative,” she let that thought trail off, then said, “Another friend, acquaintance really, she has an ALS diagnosis. She’s watching this research group who just did their first brain implant. It’s supposed to be going really well. The implant is attached to a computer, and the patient can communicate and access the computer by thinking things. Can you imagine the impact on someone with, say, quadriplegia or Parkinson’s? I can think of a host of other issues that might really benefit.”
“An incredible achievement if it’s safe.” Nutsbe focused on his rearview as Beowolf got to the back of the cargo space and stared out the window, panting.
“In the future, I wonder if something like that could somehow get integrated with prosthetic limbs. Maybe someday cyborgs might actually be a thing.”
Yeah, the magical what-if. One of Nutsbe’s least favorite topics. “I don’t need that,” he said evenly. “I work with the research scientists because I’m one of the few who can help them. They were there for me at a time when they could make a huge difference in my life, and I’m extremely grateful for the opportunity to pay that back. But I’d be fine either way. Alive is good.”
“Alive is good. Yes.” She was quiet for a moment. “So what risks?”
He glanced her way.
“Besides infection and other obvious things, you seemed to have more than that in your voice when you said, ‘If it’s safe.’”
“Extrapolate out from this story: I have a friend whose pregnant wife and baby were kidnapped. The criminal hacked into her car’s computer system and was able to follow her GPS. When she was on a remote stretch of road, they used the car’s computer brake system to stop her vehicle. The criminal walked over with a gun, and there was nothing his wife could do but comply.”
“What?” Olivia screeched. “They had outside control of her car?”
Maybe the wrong thing to bring up at the wrong time. He’d switch it back to medical. “Can you imagine if a bad guy could hack a medical pump? A pacemaker? A brain with a new sensor?”
“When the enemy is inside the house,” Olivia whispered.
“Exactly.”
“Yeah, that’s a lot to weigh into the equation.” She looked down at her hands knotted in her lap and seemed to force herself to ask. “Is your friend’s family okay?”
“Smart woman. Very pragmatic. She figured a way out. Iniquus has a program for our significant others on how to handle situations. She put that training to good use. And she saved her family.”
Olivia scooted around in the seat, looked out the back window for a long moment, and then faced Nutsbe. “Would you train me?”
“To be a significant other?”
“I-I-I,” she stammered.
Nutsbe reached over and squeezed her arm. “I’m giving you a hard time. You’re asking about what to do when? If you were getting carjacked like she was?”
“Yes, carjacking. It’s a major problem in D.C. right now. The other day, the thieves shot that dad. I know they will often bump your car, and when you get out to exchange information, someone runs up, jumps in, and takes off. I know that you’re supposed to let them go.”
“Right,” Nutsbe agreed.
“The guy happened to be standing at the door.” She skated a hand out. “I’m not blaming the victim in any way. I’m just saying that sometimes things go okay, and sometimes they just don’t. We don’t have any control except, in my mind, in trying to be kind. So I guess my question is, what should I do beyond trying to be a good person and not give karma a reason to create havoc?”
Nutsbe nodded. “Okay, some carjacking, basics.”
“Just a minute. Nutsbe, could we go back to the first part of this conversation?”
He looked over to her and pulled his brows together. He didn’t know what she meant by ‘the first part of this conversation,’ but her tone told him she had some big emotions brewing, and he gripped the wheel.
