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cells and leave them until they agglomerate. Then we’ll layer on our neurons and give them time to reconnect in a network. Once the network is dense enough, we’ll have achieved a perfect interface between brain and computer. An end-to-end connection, if you like. Millions of organic microelectrodes transmitting between the Center’s server and my cortex. Basically, it’ll be like upgrading from your granddad’s old modem to fiber-optic broadband.”

“You know how long something like that will take? If it’s even doable?”

“Two years ago, you wouldn’t even have thought it would be possible!” Josh exclaimed. He gestured to the silicone plates where Luke’s precious organic chips were glistening under the light.

“It’s crazy. You sound crazy. But let’s pretend it’s possible, just for a minute. Then what?”

“Then, we’ll shape this headset to fit the exact shape of a skull. My skull. Once I put it on, you’ll run me through a few sessions of intensive simulations. I’ll put on virtual-reality goggles, and you’ll hit play on a sped-up series of images, thousands of images sourced from databases. And at the same time, I’ll be wearing headphones, and you’ll be playing a bunch of sounds, every kind of sound imaginable. Wind, rain, grass rustling, gravel crunching underfoot, a door slamming, a hinge squeaking, wood creaking, the sound of an eraser rubbing against paper, everyday sounds you hear without ever really listening to them, things that nevertheless impact our memories.”

“Where will we get them from?”

“Sound engineers have been using sound libraries for their movies for years now. They’re unlimited. You can find them online.”

“You realize this could make your brain explode?”

“I don’t intend to go that far, but that’s the general idea, yes. By overloading my brain’s switch with all these thousands of ultrafast stimulators, I hope it’ll go crazy.”

“So you want to break your own hippocampus? Josh, you’re insane.”

“Break it? No. But I want to force it to open all its doors at once, yes.”

“And then?”

“It’ll be the biggest heist in the history of science. Finally, we’ll get the chance to step into the underworld of deep memory, and fully copy over the contents before getting the hell out of there. You can be Bonnie; I’ll be Clyde.”

Luke sighed, overwhelmed by Josh’s idea to the point that he almost wanted to just go home. Suddenly, applause broke out from somewhere behind him, and he turned around.

It was Flinch.

“Don’t worry, boys. I wasn’t spying on you. I just happened to be working next door. I heard a noise and wondered who else could possibly be working on this most magical of days.”

“Only a crazy person,” Luke replied. “And another crazy person who heard him.”

“Ah. That’s where we disagree, young man.” Flinch smiled. “What I’ve just heard is beyond unreasonable, but it’s exactly the kind of crazy idea we hope you have in exchange for our funding your studies. Your theory is as intriguing as it is improbable, which is why it may just be genius. What is it they say? That nothing is more imminent than the impossible?”

“Thank you!” Josh said, with barely concealed delight at finally being understood.

“With respect to your headset, I believe we might have something that could save you some time. One of our teams has developed a piece of equipment that could be very useful indeed. I’ll put you in touch with them as soon as possible. Interdisciplinary collaboration is the essence of what we do here, after all.”

“Don’t look at me like that. How was I to know that Flinch would be hanging around?”

“I don’t believe for a second that he just happened to be there,” Josh said.

“What are you trying to say?”

“Despite what he wants us to believe, I think we’re being watched.”

“You think there’s a mic in the lab?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me.”

“So just ask him,” Luke replied as they pulled off the highway.

He dropped Josh off near his bike at the bus depot and promised to think about their conversation. They agreed to meet the next day at the Center.

“Do you think I messed up?” Luke asked as Josh opened the car door. “When I let Tyla go?”

“That’s not the question you should be asking. Or at least, that’s not how you should be thinking of it.”

“What’s the right question?”

“Did you really love her?”

“I felt good with her. It felt right. I have to admit that I’ve been a little lonely since she left.”

“I’m sorry, Luke.”

“What messed things up was all the time I spend at the Center. It’s not your fault.”

“That’s not why I’m sorry. I think you let Tyla go because she’s not the woman you love.”

Before Luke had a chance to reply, Josh had gotten out of the car and was making his way toward his bike.

Hope was sitting cross-legged on the floor with a book opened across her lap, so engrossed in its pages that she didn’t hear Josh shut the door behind him. He watched her for a while. If he had had to draw her, this was exactly the scene he would have drawn. Hope always studied sitting on the floor, twisting a strand of hair between her fingers, a pencil between her lips like a cigarette.

“I thought you’d never get home,” she said finally, without looking up.

Josh kissed her from behind, before settling down to sit in front of her.

Hope shot him a mischievous glance.

“What now?” she asked.

“What do you mean, what now?”

“You crept out while I was asleep, and three hours later you’re back. You look like a kid being taken to Disneyland for a week. Oh, and you and Luke always manage to come up with something when I’m not there. I believe in science, we call this a series of converging elements,” Hope added. “So, are you going to spill? Or would you prefer to go and sleep at Luke’s?”

Josh knew how Hope would feel about the new plan, and her reaction was just as expected. She started by congratulating him. In theory, the idea was a stroke

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