The Optogram Page 3

  The gory dead eyes, it appeared, were only for research and reference within the database. Any available graphic software could enhance them for the display required. The retinal scans were a different matter. Those weird plasma-balls were the principal part of the CTO’s pet security project. They had to be precise in their display of unique qualities.

  He ran his hands along the short stubble of his beard and grinned. The CTO was only expecting clean scans in a tidy database. What if he provided her with graphic resolution beyond her wildest imagination?

  The important components were complete, having been created for an earlier project using artificial intelligence to find common traits in fingerprint samples. Fed into a Histogram Matching Image Enhancement model, his software clarified the scans, removing unwanted digital noise. The result allowed his AI to identify unique lines and curves within each individual fingerprint instead of dust, smudges or coffee stains.

  The college provided small batches of images, creating months of tedious manual work. Dunlevy’s vast number of scans, though, were more than enough to train the AI model to spot the commonalities of singular retinal blood vessels. Within a matter of weeks, he could have the scans displaying an unimaginable resolution in just milliseconds. When he had packed it all into an ultra-sexy user interface, he would become the CTO’s golden boy.

  His heart pounding with excitement, Dothan turned back to his laptop. As he closed the image viewer, something hit the floor behind him.

  He twisted around to face Agnes. “Will you please stop with the noise?”

  With a slow, squealing pivot of her own chair, she stared at him through oversized bifocals. The dim reflection of the basement lights against the lens gave her a weird half-eye effect as she smiled, grabbed a stapler from the table and dropped it to the floor.

  Dothan scowled. “Lady, I swear—”

  “Turn back around, child, you got nothing to say to me. I’ll do my job as I like, and I won’t be changing things because of you.”

  Furious, he stood. “Fuh…screw you, then! I’ve got work to do, too, you know?”

  “Work?” Agnes laughed and raised herself to face him. “You think surfing the net and playing video games is work? Let me clue you in on something. I’ve spent thirty years in this dump keeping these files in perfect order for the likes of you and those upstairs. I’ve seen you all come and go, and I’ve outlasted everyone, including the entire Board. So how am I repaid? Nilesh comes down here with his fake smile and tells me you’re going to automate it all. They won’t be needing my services anymore. When you’re done with your toys and swiping right for a good time, I’ll be out of a job. So, do I care that you’ve got work to do? I don’t give a rat’s backside.”

  Dothan’s irritation rose. “You know what? It makes no fucking difference to me you’ve been here since the beginning of time, or whether you’ll be in a tent on Third Avenue in a month. I won’t let you screw up my internship. So, we’ve got two choices here. We can spend the next three months keeping to ourselves, or we can keep making each other miserable. Maybe you think you can drive me out of here by being a total bitch, but, trust me, I can be far worse. Now, I’m going to get back to work. Just cut out the damn noise and leave me the hell alone.”

  Agnes muttered as she shoved her chair aside and wandered off into the jungle of metal shelves.

  With a tense truce established, Dothan returned to immersing himself in code and pixels, determined to create a piece of software showcasing his brilliance and buying his ticket out of this godforsaken basement. If his work sped up the removal of the dungeon hag to the streets, so much the better.

  It was clear he would have to modify his earlier code, which meant exporting data from his personal repository stash. It was less than kosher to use files constructed outside of Dunlevy’s systems, but the entire point of this project was to expedite his career, not to concern himself with ethics.

  One problem left facing him was the complexity of the retinal scans. He had only worked with simple black and white lines in his fingerprint software, but these images were loaded with color details. He needed to find a pre-packaged algorithm able to pick out specific parts of each image to move forward.

  ***

  Despite days and nights of searching, the perfect image-processing algorithm eluded him. Countless code libraries claimed to fulfill his requirements, but all were inadequate. Without the artificial intelligence he needed, he might have to abandon his plans and give Dunlevy the baby database they requested.

  Dothan rocked in the old office chair, listening to the rhythmic squealing echo throughout the damp cement walls.

  He stopped and shook his head.

  What am I doing? I’ll just write the damn algorithm myself.

  ***

  Three weeks of cherry-picking bits and pieces from available artificial intelligence models and incorporating them into his own code produced extraordinary results. His AI exceeded his wildest expectations with its superior learning, requiring only a few hours of training for a successful completion of its ultimate test.

  His arms raised in triumph, Dothan howled.

  “Quiet!” Agnes’s voice echoed within the mortuary of files.

  When did the old witch get here?

  He checked his watch. Seven in the morning. Another all-night marathon. What did it matter? It was time to unleash his software onto the remaining mass of scans and began the automatic process.

  Bleary-eyed and desperate for sleep, he leaned back with his hands behind his head. As he considered ways in which to thank the CTO when she praised him for such outstanding work, he closed his eyes and drifted into a heavy doze.

  A piercing beep startled him back into awareness. Dothan straightened his glasses and grabbed his keyboard as a warning flashed across his monitor.

  What the hell?

  Something had ended the routine. In a panic, he dug through the log, line by line.

  >07:17:34.638 ERROR Bad data found in image #UH171

  “Dammit,” snarled Dothan as he killed the routine.

  The process would remain stalled until he resolved the error, if it was even fixable.

  Frustrated, he dragged retinal scan #UH171 into an open viewer application. The algorithm had produced amazing results. Every bright red blood vessel shone within the orange orb in a blaze of glory. The tiniest of fine details were ultra-sharp, and the resolution so pronounced, it rivaled a digital microscope.

  Dothan adjusted his glasses. Something was in the back of the scan. He enlarged the image and moved closer to the screen.

  “What the hell?” he whispered.

  A strange table stretched across the corpse’s retina. Weird symbols appeared inlaid in its lacquered wood top. Intricate feathery wings carved into the curved legs, cascaded into a set of lion’s feet with glittering gemstones inset in its claws.

  “This is crazy.”

  There had to be an explanation. Perhaps it was a double image or even a corrupted digitization. It might be as simple as a reflection on the lens of the fundus camera which photographed this eye.

  The scan was just a couple of years old. The newer cameras used to capture the retina were so advanced, chances of multiple images, blurry shots, or even a speck of dust was impossible. Digital manipulation was also out of the question. The image adjustment by the algorithm would have exposed ragged pixels produced by graphic interference.

  It made no sense. Why had this image melded to that retinal scan?

  Dothan checked and re-checked his code. As expected, his work was perfect. Desperate, he considered trying to erase the anomaly with a graphic editor, or deleting the entire scan, but both presented issues. Besides, should anyone at Dunlevy discover it, they could question his credibility and software, and he could kiss any kudos from the CTO goodbye.

  He turned his chair to stare at the thousands of bo
xes crowding the dank basement. Each of the digitized scans had a corresponding original held in those crates. If the second image had no table, at worst he could re-scan. Problem fixed. His beautiful algorithm would process without another fail. No one would ever find out.

  Agnes tossed a box on the floor and Dothan flinched.

  And now I have to beg the hell-hound to get the file for me.

  Dothan and Agnes had not spoken a word to each other in weeks, leaving a high probability of a delay in the dungeon hag pulling the file he needed. Women, though, were putty in the aura of his handsome face. Distasteful as it was, he could try flirting with Agnes to get that file.

  After clearing his throat, he turned his chair.

  “Hey, Agnes,” he said, lowering his voice and projecting it with a softened tone.

  Agnes appeared to jump at the sound of her name.

  Dothan walked to her desk, leaning on the heavy plastic. “Agnes?”

  She sighed and turned her head toward him. “This had better be important.”

  “It is.” He flashed his most practiced smile. “I’ve had a great breakthrough with my code and figured we would celebrate by me getting us both a latte or macchiato.”

  “You? Want to buy me…a coffee?” Agnes laughed, her raucous guffaws resonating off of the block walls.

  Dothan crossed his arms and nodded.

  She wiped her eyes. “No. Anything else?”

  His cheeks burning, Dothan shook his head and returned to his workstation.

  Bitch, you might think I got served, but I’m just getting started.

  It was time to get out the big guns. Underneath that saggy, wrinkled skin was a woman. He had yet to find one who could resist him.

  ***

  The following morning, Dothan put significant effort into his appearance, which did not go unnoticed by Bekkii when he arrived for work.

  At his workstation, he removed two small boxes from his backpack.

  “Good morning, Agnes,” he said.

  She stopped writing and dropped her pen. Dothan brought one of the pink boxes and placed it on her desk. “I got you a Mexican chocolate from that donut shop next door. I’ve seen you bring them in before, so I’m pretty sure that’s your favorite.”

  Agnes turned to face him. “Okay, that’s enough. What do you want?”

  “Let’s call a truce.” He gave Agnes his sweetest smile, remembering to lower his head to give him the look of a contrite little boy. “I was pretty stressed when I first got here, and we got off on the wrong foot. I’m sorry about that. We’re stuck down here together for two more months. It seems like we should at least try to be civil to each other.”

  She opened the box with a slight smile on her lips.

  Gotcha, thought Dothan.

  “Thank you. That was very thoughtful of you, but I wasn’t born yesterday. You want me to get a file for you. I would venture a guess that you couldn’t care less whether we were…what do you kids call it? Your BVF?”

  Dothan rolled his eyes. “BFF. It stands for best friend forever, but us kids haven’t used that phrase in a decade.”

  It figures the old crow thought I had an ulterior motive. Even if I do, she doesn’t have to assume that was the reason right off the bat.

  Agnes rose from her chair and handed him a form. “If you want a file, you’ll need to fill this out. Keep a copy for yourself and remember to denote the file number on your project form. There’s a five-day turnaround.”

  Dothan scowled. “Five days?” He scanned the paper, pointing to a line on the form. “Why do you need to know the reason? I just need the damn thing.”

  She grinned as she took her glasses off and let them hang from a faux pearl chain. “For this precise reason. Because that’s my rule, and mine is the only game in town.”

  “I’ll bet the CTO and Nilesh would like to know that you’re holding up my project.”

  “Go ahead and complain, and see how far you get.”

  “Look,” said Dothan. “I won’t go near the personal details, I just want to see the original scan and compare it against the one I have.”

  “Why?”

  “Because…because I do! It’s technical, all right? You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Try me.”

  Dothan crossed his arms. “Why can’t you get the file? It’s your only fucking job, for Christ’s sake! You can hold the stupid thing while I compare the two scans, I don’t care. I’ll do whatever stupid rule you want to make up on the fly, but I need that file right now.”

  She stared at him for a moment. “First,” she said, “as I told you before, watch the language. Second, I don’t believe you. Those scans on the computer are the same ones taken from the originals. There’s no difference. So, unless you tell me the actual reason you need it, the answer is no, I won’t get you that file.”

  He grunted in anger and smoothed the sides of his hair. The filing system in those thousands of boxes was so complex, he’d never find the scan without her help. Agnes stood, smirking, aware she held hostage the key to his problem.

  “Cool.” He sat and dragged the howling wheels of his chair to the monitor. “If you’re so determined to have a reason, here you go.”

  He brought up scan #UH171 and zoomed into the center of the retina where the antique table sat in its feathered and jeweled glory.

  “My God.” She placed her glasses back on the bridge of her nose. “What is that?”

  “Um, well, it’s a table inside a dead person’s eye.”

  “I can see that,” said Agnes. “I mean, why is it there?”

  Dothan slapped his forehead and opened his mouth in sarcastic surprise. “I have no fucking…I mean…duh! Maybe if you got that file, I could check it against the original. That way, if it’s not there, the scan is flawed. If it is there, then we have a fresh set of problems.”

  Without a word, Agnes checked her system and went into the walls of boxes to retrieve the file. She returned with a brown expandable folder and dug through its contents before extracting a CD. “Since 1995, we’ve gotten CDs of all the autopsy photos and retinal scans from the medical examiner’s office. Load this disc and search for the scan name. That way you won’t have to mess with all the other images.”

  He took the CD, loaded it, and located the matching scan number.

  “Yes!” he said. “There’s nothing there. It must’ve been a flaw on that other image.”

  Agnes leaned in toward the monitor. “I’m not so sure. Didn’t you say that you ran the first image against the whizzy program you wrote?”

  Dammit! How did I forget that?

  Dothan copied the image and placed it in the AI routine. After a brief reconfiguration, he set the software to process the single image, and the routine produced the same beep and error message.

  “Shit.” Dothan turned to Agnes with a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

  He repeated the steps of enlarging the image and, within the depths of the scan, appeared the same ornate table.

  Agnes nodded and smiled. “This will sound weird, but I think you’ve discovered something far more important than a simple enhancement of those scans.”

  “Like what?”

  “I’m not a hundred percent here, but you may have gone and proven optography is real.”

  “I have no clue what you’re talking about,” said Dothan.

  “I’ve only read about it in books,” she said, “and seen some stuff on TV murder mysteries.”

  “Oh, murder mysteries. Great.”

  “Hush and listen. The Victorian police figured an optogram was the last image a person sees when they die recorded on the retina. They even set up a camera and photographed the retinas of Jack the Ripper’s victims, but they found nothing. It was all but forgotten, but I think your program has done it. I bet this table was the last thing…who wa
s it?” Agnes opened the file and scanned through the documents. “Sibella Gale saw when she died.”

  “So what?”

  “Don’t you get it? If you can enhance retinal autopsy files so they display the last image in life, you might have yourself the next big thing in forensic science since DNA. Think about it. A photograph from the dead which can help find murderers. This stupid mistake of yours might be worth a fortune.”

  Chapter Three

  A fortune.

  If Agnes was right, this code opened the door to his wildest dreams.

  “I hate to wipe that grin from your face,” she said, “but there might be one serious hiccup. Let’s say you perfect this software and head out into the big, wide world of venture capitalists. What happens when you discover you have no rights to the software? I suppose you don’t remember that employment contract you signed. It gave ownership of everything you develop in-house to Dunlevy.”

  “Shit!”

  Agnes’s face clouded with anger. “Where did you get that foul mouth?”

  “Sorry, it’s just I never read that thing. I had no idea there was a non-compete clause. I guess I just flushed my chance.”

  “Well, maybe not.” Agnes held up the accordion folder. “It all depends on whether the scan and the information in this file ever existed.”

  “Huh?”

  “I’m saying if everything, including the paperwork, disappeared from Dunlevy’s files and its systems, we hold the perfect case study to help solve a murder and give your software credibility.” Agnes handed Dothan several sheets of paper from the folder. “I just found something that could change our lives. Here. Read through these autopsy notes. Do you remember that body they found on the Nooksack River a couple of years ago? The one nobody could identify for a while?”

  Dothan scanned the handwritten documents. “Yeah. So, the dead girl was Sibella Gale?”

  Agnes nodded. “It says her throat was cut, and they recorded the death as a homicide. I don’t think they ever solved it.”

  “I’ll connect into my VPN for a quick answer to that.”

  “What’s a VPN?” she asked.