Michael sat in his office, once again continuing his endless battle against countless projects and reports waiting for his approval , while taking the occasional sip from his black coffee, when he heard a knock on the door. Admiral raised his head and quirked a brow, "Come in!"
The door opened to reveal a familiar face. A dark skinned african american, appearing to be in his mid 50s. That was none other than Langston Graham. Director of the CIA. Admiral's eyes narrowed. In their youth, two of them had worked together on several occasions and carried out some high risk covert ops in Gulf. Graham had been very competitive and ambitious even back then but they had been on good terms. However as time went by and he grew up, the way he used to see the world evolved, he got married, then got a boy and girl, brought a house. And by the time his children went to college , he also underwent some life altering events, many of his philosophies, especially about how the intelligence agencies and personnel in general should operate , had completely changed and were now nearly opposite from what they once were.
Each morning before he left home for work, he took out his guts and put them in fridge. He got more and more upset everyday but there wasn't much he could do apart from voicing his own conflicting opinions, every once in a while. As much as he hated to admit, he had to make a living. Michael knew how his peers thought and rarely interfered with the way they ran their agencies, apart from voicing his very own conflicting opinion, every once in a while
However seeing Graham walking inside his chambers meant that something unexpected had happened, which unnerved him a bit even though he didn't let it show
"It's been a while, Warhawk. Good to see you are still managing despite your age." Graham greeted before taking a seat.
Admiral gave a slight chuckle "I still have a lot of fight left in me Viper. But don't you think the director of CIA should have more pressing matters to deal with rather than discussing my retirement plans?"
"Indeed, too many scandals to handle. Belgrade bombing, One of the agency's star agents going rogue and screwing up the entire Intersect facility and last but not the least, the top secret tank plans getting stolen en route to military base but I think I will survive." Graham said , his gaze lingering on the american flag both of them loved and desired to protect in their own ways , " Besides who knows better than you, how good I am at hanging in there."
Admiral nodded, taking a deep calming breath before slowly taking a sip from his coffee, " Time will soon pass us by. I can only hope the next generation lives up to the challenge." He said before turning back to the director of CIA "And hopefully they don't take the teachings of clandestine to heart." Graham's eyes narrowed down slightly, "It would be better if they found their own path, based on their own human reasoning and experiences. Anyways enough beating around the bush. What has brought you here? "
"I have heard about a certain rookie analyst, young and quite skilled working for your agency, Charles Bartowski.. And he is not just an analyst either. A few months ago , NIH researchers wanted to know how land use and roadways impacted air pollution and, in turn, how pollution would affect health in local residents. he played a major role in the creation of an advanced GIS technology , a Geo AI first of its kind to be exact. Which helped them analyze traffic patterns over different times of day in relation to the concentration of harmful particles in the air. By using this information to predict when pollution levels would become dangerous, the city could issue warnings as early as possible. If I am not wrong, this success earned you a lot of budget dollars" Graham replied
"Well, he is such a gem of a person and one of the most brilliant minds to join our agency " Admiral said with a hint of pride in his tone.
"Indeed, I mere wish to inquire though. Why you took an interest in him two years ago out of nowhere? He was a proven cheater, at least for the time being, wasn't he? "
"It's a long story. The short version is we recruited him for his hacking skills at first after seeing his performance at a DATACON event. And by the time his polygraph exam was going on, Stanford declared him innocent from any and all wrongdoings. " Michael remarked in a casual tone
"Hmm...Interesting." Graham responded in a thoughtful tone. He clearly recalled who Charles Bartowski from five years back. George Fleming, The CIA recruiter stationed at Stanford, attempted to get him employed by their agency. Citing his intellectual abilities and amount of knowledge he possessed in various tech related fields. However, one of the recruits who also happened to be Bartowski's roommate. And someone he really wished he didn't recruit at the time. Bryce "Pain in his Ass" Larkin. Who managed to convince him that Bartowski was nothing but a scam artist who made easy money by using his hacking skills to steal test answers and sell them to other students. Bryce even promised to hand him over to the authorities himself, which he did.
Out of anger and disappointment, Graham tried to hurt Bartowski even more and he also wanted to teach the brat a lesson for messing with his agency's recruitment process, The Provost was initially expected to strip him off his scholarship, give him a few months of community service and let him take his final exam, giving him a lighter sentence based on his overall nice behavior and the evidence pointing towards his guilt appearing to be rather dodgy. However, using his political might Graham forced Stanford to expel him altogether.
But somehow, he had been proven wrong. He shouldn't have jumped on conclusions based on what he heard from Larkin and Fleming. Which made him feel frustrated a bit. Not because he felt apologetic about what he did with Bartowski back then but it was due to the fact that his hast cost him a bright and brilliant recruit.
"Do you intend to play a bigger role in the new Intersect initiative? Bartowski can prove to be an ideal candidate for project omaha." Graham offered with a glint in his eyes, " Great memory, off the chart IQ, a keen eye for detail and sharp perception, just the sort of person we need to upload and retain encoded in their brains. I am pretty sure we can work something out for the better of both of our agencies . Besides, keeping an analyst under control shouldn't be much difficult."
"I am sorry old friend. " Michael remarked in a dry tone, " I don't mind lending you support or helpful advice as far as technical or scientific aspects are concerned, I will personally refrain from getting involved with "unethical" things like that. And I certainly can't force someone working under my agency to be part of something which I deem to be neither safe nor ethical. I don't want to make the same mistake previous director by bringing in Dr Hartley all those years ago " He concluded with in a stern tone, leaving no room for further argument.
Graham's eyes dangerously narrowed, "Once more, you still suffer from the same stubbornness which has always prevented you from seeing the big picture. It is a shame that you have forgotten your own lessons." Michael's eyes met his glare before Graham turned towards the door, "In any case, I can rest easier, for the time being. After all, who knows? NGA's policies won't be the same when a new director swears in." The man said, walking out the door. In truth, he intended to make his own observations as well. He already knew that in secret Bartowski underwent federal agent training, specializing in cyber forensics and EOD. A very reliable source stationed at Ft Bragg confirmed someone closely resembling taking special classes there multiple times but his name didn't appear in any official records. Graham couldn't help but feel slightly suspicious about everything. Carmichael was part of something big, something important, something which could even make or break his entire career, He felt in his gut and he had learned to listen to that feeling to get what his mind missed.
He needed to keep a closer eye on Bartowski.
...xxxxxxxx...xxxxxxxxx...
Needless to say, Charles was still having a bit of hard time catching up to everything that just happened. However at this point of time, he was kind of used to stuff like this. After learning the truth about his father and turned into a live action computer program himself, there wasn't much out there which could faze him. Even the fact that he was waiting with Casey in an otherwise empty hallway and he could clearly see him playing with his Glock 29
Who the hell is this person? And how rude can he get? He is treating a guy he just met as an inferior being. The only other person I can think of like that is a saiyan prince with a weird haircut who went through existential mid life crisis just because he wanted to get a different hair color.
Casey on the other hand seemed a bit intrigued. Towards his utmost displeasure he never really got the chance to be a drill sergeant but that was because drill sergeants feared him. Putting the fear of God or himself in civilian employees was just he needed to do to cheer himself up. He could tell that Bartowski was a bit nervous but he tried his best to let it show. He just sat there quietly, concentrating on the contents of the file. To give where credit was due, he looked the part of a serious company scientist. Even though he was just a rookie who finished his masters at National Intelligence University last year. At least that's what his file said.
Precisely one hundred fifteen minute and thirty five seconds later (Chuck kept the track) the door opened. Casey and Chuck stood up expectantly.
"You better behave yourself out there Bartowski. You are going to meet a very powerful individual in Intelligence community."
Chuck turned to Casey, trying to force a smile on his face.
"I appreciate your concern Agent Casey but I believe I am more than capable of taking care of myself . My INT levels are over nine thousand" Chuck finished with a two finger salute.
"Good for you." Casey remarked without a care in the world, throwing him a mild analytical gaze before both of them entered inside the room and it didn't seem like government was spending enough money on the furniture. Just a single chair sat behind a desk, with nothing else but a small laptop resting on it. There was only one other chair in the entire room. Behind the desk sat a woman with reddish hair, a decade younger than his boss but she wore very stern expressions on her face. She was looking at him with a curious measuring gaze, as though he was some sort of equipment she was considering purchasing. It was clearly making him uncomfortable.
It didn't take him much time before realizing that she was none other than the Director of NSA, General Diane Beckman. She was a public figure so he obviously knew about her.
"Good Afternoon, Mr Bartowski. I believe we have met each other before."
"Yes Ma'am. You awarded me my degree last year alongside many other NIU graduates. Where you delivered a speech about NIU becoming the center of academic life for the intelligence community."
"Ah, I remember now. You were part of the team which won the cyber grand challenge that year."
"Yeah, It was not all me though. Everyone worked really hard for that. Besides anyone can win a competition so it's not that big of a deal."
"May be. May be not. But finishing your Masters in Science and Technology Intelligence in just six months is ." Beckman spoke out with a hint of curiosity and amusement in her tone, Chuck didn't really know whether to feel happy or sad. Usually being in spotlight was supposed to be a good thing but right now that didn't sound like a good idea
"So what can I do for you? Ma'am?" Chuck asked, clasping his hands together. Sweat beaded down his neck as he waited what felt like an eternity to wait for her response
Leaning forward from her chair, She sharply narrowed down her eyes at him. "After 9/11 all Intelligence and law enforcement agencies were asked to play nice and share their details with each other. In order to do that, we built a very special kind of supercomputer which not only had every scrap of our data but look out for mindful chatters and patterns. Allowing it to watch and listen to even we didn't. Last month, A CIA agent whose codename used be Brian Anderson decided to go rogue out of blue and tried to steal it. Even though he got shot and died before he could do that, he still managed to convert everything into a series of pictures encoded with government secrets and stored inside this PDA and if we can't manage to process all the data within a week , this machine will self destruct and all those secrets will be gone forever. "
"And you think I can help you with this ...thing?" To be honest the idea seemed quite ludicrous to Chuck
"Under ordinary circumstances...I wouldn't have allowed it. " Beckman replied in a thoughtful tone "But after seeing one of your past...projects I changed my mind. "
"My past projects?"
Beckman unwrapped a bundle in her right hand , revealing what appeared to be a pair of normal looking glasses. She slightly tapped on the top of it causing the glasses to shine with a slight cerulean glow for a moment.
Chuck instantly froze, starting to feel a bit hot under his collar.
Fourteen year old Chuck was crying on a bench. He had a really bad day today. He was short, he was scrawny and the fact that he was smarter than the entire class combined didn't help much. He hoped to make new friends in the school He hoped the situation would change but no...He always seemed to attract the worse to him. Everyone ignored him like a plague and when they interacted with him, It was either just to taunt him or make fun of him. He sat in the bus stand alone. He had always been alone. But before his parents were with him but now...even they were gone. Ellie tried her best but the loss of their parents was a void that won't be filled for his entire life.
Suddenly, The sound of a horn blowing got his attention. He looked up only to see a twenty something woman walking out from rather old and rusty but still working car. It was none other than , Eleanor Bartowski, his beloved sister slash current guardian if he had any. She blinked at seeing the frail teen crying and immediately sat besides him. She patted Chuck 's shoulder and spoke in a very soothing tone.
"What happened Kiddo? Why are you crying rivers like this?"
"Big...sis! Do you...think I am weak?" Chuck asked hesitantly. The question had been bothering him for a while now
"Hmm...Where does that come from?" Ellie asked with curiosity
"I am not very good at sports stuff. I am scrawny and I even have glasses on the top of that. Liz said that she can't be friends with me anymore cause I am pathetic and not cool like everyone else!" Chuck responded dejectedly, Barely able to hold his tears. With a comforting smile, Ellie patted his shoulders and forced him to look up.
"Answer me, Chuck! Is water weak or strong? If strong, how strong? If weak, how weak?"
"If it meets obstacles, it avoids them. Water is weak and cowardly. Fire is super cool." Chuck replied, pumping his fists in the air
"Water is good. It must give off itself endlessly, to embrace all of creation and revive dead seeds, until the ground dries up and cracks because there is nothing more to give. It makes itself humble and flows to where it flows. Thus , because water doesn't try to become strong, it is good. " Ellie responded with a smile, ruffing his hair.
"But..that doesn't make sense!" Chuck dumbfounded.
"Everyone have their own definition of strength. Some think physical strength is real strength, some consider themselves cool just because they are wealthy and a number of people say that intelligence is the true strength. it's really difficult to figure out how to be strong and cool by others' standards. " Ellie grabbed his hand and put it over his heart, "Don't ever call yourself pathetic ever again Chuck. Because true strength lies in your heart."
The former nerd herder took out a long breath, allowing himself to be free from all thoughts . He rolled his shoulders and flexed his muscles.
"One of my professors at NIU was in her 50's when her eyesight started to fail. She eventually lost all central vision in both her eyes a few months after as a result of age-related macular degeneration. Place a peanut on a table, and She wouldn't be able to see it; if she turned slightly and used her peripheral vision, she might catch a glimpse of it. She couldn't see people's faces or read text on a page. After she lost her central vision, she was kicked out from the academy. After talking with some of my sister's ophthalmologist friends, I came up with the idea to create this glasses. I called them the Explorer. It worked in initial stages but my instructors at NIU deemed the project silly, unrealistic and sheer waste of government resources. " Chuck tried his best to answer in a neutral tone even though anyone could sense disappointment and a bit of frustration in his voice.
"Explain what it did in Layman's terms." Beckman motioned him to continue further.
"CIPS pursued the capability to learn generally applicable and generative representations of action between objects in a scene directly from visual inputs, and then reason over those learned representations. In short attempting to give a machine an ability which existed in animals: Visual Intelligence..."
And just like that he launched into his demonstration.
...xxxxxx...xxxxxxxx...xxxxxx...
In the bathroom mirror, Jonas Zarnow stared at himself. His tired face, bloodshot eyes, the bags under his eyes, the mess that was his hair. Even the color had been drained. Yesterday, he couldn't find the engineer. So he arrived as early as possible this morning to resume his search. Yet, he once again came up empty. There was no finding him/her. It felt like searching for the tiniest needle in the world's largest haystack.
He could keep trying. Keep sorting through various databases, keep checking every cabinet, every desk, within every closet of this agency. But, it would do no good. While it may be possible to find this engineer, Zarnow just didn't want to at this moment. Why even try? Once he did, the only way for him to get out of FULCRUM's servitude was to pick out someone else to take his place. Put someone in the same position his treacherous superior did many years ago.
A part of him couldn't do it. Didn't want to, anyways. Therefore, it was time for him to bite the bullet. He would march into that bastard Roark's office and tell the man in charge of this entire evil spy corporation that he wouldn't go through this any longer. If FULCRUM wanted to kill him for this...Then, so be it.
However, he also knew he can't do that. He wasn't that brave. Besides if he only worked as a company scientist, he would have never made this much money. He had his family at home to think of. Soon, they would finally leave everything behind and have everything they ever wanted to have. The dream house. The life.
How was he supposed to find this person? It was a seemingly insurmountable task . He was sure about one thing though. If Beckman wanted to meet this engineer, She would trust only one person inside the entire NSA to bring him/her in.
All he needed to do was to just wait and watch.