MIND FIELDS by Brad Aiken Page A

effective.
      Work had been progressing well since Paul joined BNI, but it was never quite fast enough for Senator Stetson.  JT felt a pang of anxiety when he saw Senator Stetson’s name penciled into his schedule unexpectedly that morning.  It wasn’t unusual for members of the congressional nanotech committee to meet periodically with leaders in the field of nanotechnology, so an occasional meeting with Stetson in the name of senatorial enlightenment would not arouse suspicion, but JT knew what the meeting was really about.  It was always about the same thing.
      Senator Stetson arrived at BNI right on time, as usual, and JT greeted him in the outer office.
      “Good morning, JT.”
      “Good morning, Senator.  Right on time, as usual.”  JT extended his right hand to greet the senator, and guided him into his office.  The door closed behind them.
      “I need an update, JT.  I’ve introduced a bill that will appropriate five-hundred million dollars over the next decade for nanotech research, and I’ve been building a fragile coalition.  It’ll crumble like a house of cards if I don’t have some solid sign of success for the project.   Cole is dead set against the idea.  He doesn’t want to give that much money or that much latitude to any independent enterprise.  That old coot is gonna play by the book on this one.  Even the mention of using nanobots for any covert operations will blow the deal.  We have to convince him that it’s in the public interest to give that grant to BNI or it’ll never fly.  He’s a tough nut to crack, but if you can give me something tangible, I think my friends at the agency can put enough pressure on the rest of the committee members that we may be able to swing the vote.”
      Anderson sat quietly behind his desk.  He liked having the NSA on his side, but it was also somewhat unnerving knowing that he was under their thumb.  He did not want to screw this one up.  It had become much more than the money now. 
      “Let me show you where were at, Russ.  I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”
    Chapter nine

      December 1, 2050

      Harborview Hospital sat on the waterfront in downtown Baltimore, not far from Federal Hill.  The resurgence of the downtown waterfront area in the late twentieth and early twenty-first century was the model for the redevelopment of inner city areas all over the United States.  The rundown industrial and storage facilities had been replaced with modern financial and business towers, and the yuppies that staffed those businesses moved into the city in droves.  Broken down row-homes were supplanted by luxury condominiums, and the growing numbers of prosperous residents were accommodated by new fashion boutiques, upscale malls and a plethora of exclusive restaurants, always filled with young urban professionals who were too busy and too tired to prepare a meal at the end of a long work day.  Unfortunately, accidents happen even in the finest neighborhoods, and even the most privileged amongst us fall ill.  Harborview Hospital was the Rolls Royce of hospitals, built to fill that niche. 
      Harborview was the kind of hospital that not only provided good care, but it did so in an environment that would do justice to a five star hotel.  Rooms appointed with designer furniture and marble bathrooms had small balconies that looked out over the Baltimore skyline, where those patients who were able could sit and enjoy a gourmet meal with their loved ones.  It was not the hospital of choice for those who were found unconscious on the streets in the gentlemen’s club district, but the ID card in Rocky Stankowski’s wallet made it clear that he was not the normal bucolic drunk who stumbled into the wrong alley in downtown Baltimore.  The officers who found him contacted their chief as soon as they saw the card that identified him as a White House employee.  The chief contacted the mayor, who placed a few calls that eventually