Qubit's Incubator - Charley Brindley

Charley Brindley

Qubit's Incubator

Qubit’s Incubator

by

Charley Brindley

charleybrindley@yahoo.com

www.charleybrindley.com

Edited by

Karen Boston

Website https://bit.ly/2rJDq3f

Cover art by

Charley Brindley

© 2020

All rights reserved

© 2020 Charley Brindley, all rights reserved

Printed in the United States of America

First Edition April 2020

This book is dedicated to

the memory of

James Seth Brindley

Some of Charley Brindley’s books

have been translated into:

Italian

Spanish

Portuguese

French

Dutch

Chinese

and

Russian

Other books by Charley Brindley

1. Oxana’s Pit

2. The Last Mission of the Seventh Cavalry

3. Raji Book One: Octavia Pompeii

4. Raji Book Two: The Academy

5. Raji Book Three: Dire Kawa

6. Raji Book Four: The House of the West Wind

7. Hannibal’s Elephant Girl

8. Cian

9. Ariion XXIII

10. The Last Seat on the Hindenburg

11. Dragonfly vs Monarch: Book One

12. Dragonfly vs Monarch: Book One

13. The Sea of Tranquility 2.0 Book One: Exploration

14. The Sea of Tranquility 2.0 Book Two: Invasion

15. The Sea of Tranquility 2.0 Book Three

16. The Sea of Tranquility 2.0 Book Four

17. Sea of Sorrows, Book Two of The Rod of God

18. Do Not Resuscitate

19. Hannibal’s Elephant Girl, Book Two

20. The Rod of God, Book One

21. Henry IX

Coming Soon

22. Dragonfly vs Monarch: Book Three

23. The Journey to Valdacia

24. Still Waters Run Deep

25. Ms Machiavelli

26. Ariion XXIX

27. The Last Mission of the Seventh Cavalry Book 2

28. Hannibal’s Elephant Girl, Book Three

See the end of this book for details about the others

Chapter One

West Chelsea, New York City

Tuesday morning, 10 a.m.

“Thank you for the opportunity.”

Catalina took the offered straight-back oak chair. She watched the man behind the desk as he read her CV.

Thirtyish, confident, well-dressed. I wonder if he’s the owner or manager?

She adjusted her short blue skirt, then rested her tightly clasped hands on the iPad in her lap.

Victor Templeton was clean-shaven, with a little gray sprinkled throughout his sun-bitten hair. His face looked weathered, tired. He watched Catalina for a moment, but her steady gaze didn’t waver. He wrote the number “7” on his notepad.

“Whatcha got…” he glanced at her CV, “Miss Catalina Saylor?”

Catalina’s hand shot to the right side of her thigh, where she patted her skirt.

They’re gone! She panicked. How could I lose them?

Her heart raced. Jerking her hand one way then another, she finally felt a familiar object, then the second one.

There you are. Thank God!

The concealed pocket held her treasures. All her skirts and dresses had pockets hidden within the folds of cloth. She never wore pants or shorts. Without her talisman, she would be lost.

“Sound imaging for the blind,” she said in answer to his question.

Victor spun a yellow pencil on his desk. “Hmm…like a bat’s echolocation?”

Catalina’s breathing returned to normal as her heart rate slowed. “Something like that, but using AI to convert the radar bounces into a non-visual image.”

Victor scribbled the number “8” on his notepad. “Non-visual image.” It wasn’t a question; he repeated her phrase as if trying to give it substance. “Being fed into the blind person’s optic nerve?”

“No. To her fingertips, making her surroundings into a tactile image.”

“You have ten minutes to sell this idea to me.”

Catalina tossed her head to the side, like a girl with a long strand of hair irritating her face; however, her short chocolate-brown hair, neatly brushed and pushed back, hardly covered her ears. A little blush on her cheeks would have added depth to her statuesque beauty, but she never wore makeup, thinking it was a waste of time. Maybe someday, if she ever wanted to advertise her availability for dating.

She opened her iPad and placed it on the desk, facing him. Reaching over the top, she pressed a key.

A stick-figure with a long cane materialized on the stark white screen.

Catalina sat back, keeping her eyes on Victor.

As he watched the iPad, the figure mobilized and made its way along a sketched-in street. The figure slowly morphed into a human form—a woman, then clothing was added; a flowery blouse and long skirt, both in black and white.

She tapped her cane on the sidewalk, feeling her way along.

The sidewalk and buildings took on more detail as the sounds of murmured voices and traffic came from the iPad speakers.

Color was added to the woman’s clothing as she made her way through the passing pedestrians; chartreuse for the skirt, and a shocking orange for her blouse. The outlined buildings became shops, with books and jewelry displayed in the windows, while a convenience store came into view ahead of her.

“Who did this animation?”Victor asked.

“I did,” Catalina said. “Most of it.”

He used his pen to slash through the “8” and wrote “9” beside it.

The blind woman came to a street crossing and stopped when the end of her cane dropped off the edge of the curb.

She tilted her head, listening.

“Anyone there?” Her voice came from the speakers.

A girl, maybe ten years old, came to her side. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m blind. Can you help me across the street? This is Forty-seventh, right?”

“Yes, it is.” The girl took her hand. “What happened to your eyes?”

“Afghanistan.”

“Step down.” The girl led the woman off the curb and into the street. “We can cross now. You were hurt in the war?”

“Yes. What’s your name?”

“Monica. We’re in the middle of the street, but we still have the light.”

“Do you live nearby?”

“Two blocks. Mama sent me to the store for baking powder. Get ready to step up on the curb.”

The white cane tapped ahead of the woman. When it touched the curb, she felt for the height.

“If you can’t see, why do you wear sunglasses?”

After stepping up on the sidewalk, the woman felt for her glasses and removed them.

“Oh,” Monica said.

The woman’s eyes were cloudy orbs, scared and misshapen.

“I see what happened. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Thanks for helping me.”

“What’s your name?” the girl asked.

“I’m Cindy.”

A knock came at the office door, then a young woman with red hair peeked in. “Your next appointment is here.”

Victor kept his eyes on the video as he held up his hand toward her in a ‘Tell the applicant to wait a few minutes’ gesture.

Catalina stared at the redhead. Dangly earrings. Perfectly shaped, gold enclosing jade stones. Ovals!

The young woman glanced at Catalina, then nodded to Victor and closed the door.

The video suddenly rewound back to the stick figure in the first frame. It started as before, but now, as the animation progressed, the white cane was equipped with a shiny metal cylinder wrapping around the shaft, near the handgrip. A bracelet of similar design circled the woman’s left wrist. Both had blinking green LEDs while emitting a soft beeping sound.

When the woman came to the curb, she shifted the cane to her right hand, then held up her left, with the palm forward. The beeping sound accelerated. She cocked her head to the side, then after a moment she slowly shifted her open palm to her left. She paused there, then moved her hand all the way around to the right.

The blind woman waited until the sounds of traffic stopped, then held out her palm to her left, apparently checking for any cars turning right, and into her path.

Satisfied it was clear, she stepped off the curb and walked confidently forward, avoiding a yellow taxi that had stopped halfway into the crosswalk.

She was soon on the other side of the street and striding toward her destination.

Victor leaned back in his chair as Catalina took her iPad, turned it toward her, and clicked off the video.

“Nice. I understand the concept,” he said. “But not only will it require some very dense coding, you’ll have to work out the computer-human interface.”

“I know it won’t be easy.”

“Are you a coder?”