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top of his skull—a brain-machine interface (BMI) device hardwired into his cortex. A large LCD TV was on the wall three feet directly in front of him, but no picture was present.
    “Is that the wireless BMI?” Pearce asked.
    Dr. Rao nodded enthusiastically. “Three months ahead of schedule.”
    There was a knock on the door.
    “Come in,” Rao said.
    The door swung open.
    “Ian. Good to see you,” Pearce said. They shook hands. The wiry Scot had a kind, expressive face beneath two high arching eyebrows and a great shock of hair. Dark eyes betrayed his fierce intelligence.
    “Come here, you,” Judy said, wrapping Ian in a bear hug. They were close friends, though Ian preferred something more.
    “I see you’ve all met our wee friend Jack.”
    “How are the legs these days?” Pearce asked.
    Ian lifted one of his Genium bionic legs. His own legs had been amputated above the knee after he was cut down in the 2005 7/7 bombings in London. The new high-tech knee joints were controlled by a microprocessor that allowed for nearly perfect mobility. “Never better. I’ll be sword dancing before too long.”
    “Shall we begin?” Dr. Rao shut the lights off. Instantly, the LCD panel lit up with a computer program.
    “Looks like a flight simulator,” Judy said.
    “It is,” Rao said.
    “Where’s the joystick?” Judy asked.
    “There isn’t one,” Ian said.
    A wire-framed Predator was centered in the screen, swooping low over a vast virtual desert, following a black ribbon of asphalt highway.
    “Jack’s flying it with his mind,” Pearce said to Judy. “Dr. Nicolelis did something similar to this a few years ago.” He tried to hide his irritation.He could’ve watched this demonstration from the comfort of his cabin instead of flying all the way here. In fact, he’d seen Nicolelis’s work on YouTube months ago after Rao sent him a link.
    “Similar, but not exactly the same,” Rao said. “Watch.”
    Moments later, an animated flatbed truck with a mounted machine gun appeared on the highway, surrounded by three other unarmed cars. The armed truck began firing at Jack’s drone. Jack swooped and swerved to avoid the antiaircraft fire.
    “Dr. Nicolelis’s monkey could only track targets with his mind. Jack can avoid being a target. He can also do this.”
    The truck continued firing, but the other three cars fell away. Suddenly, a missile shot out from beneath the drone’s wings. A moment later the truck disintegrated in a ball of digital fire, leaving the three other cars unscathed.
    Rao beamed. “I bet my monkey can blow up his monkey.”
    “And you’ll notice, little Jack isn’t just using his motor skills to track a single target. He’s making target choices ,” Ian said.
    “How?” Pearce asked.
    “We hacked into the deeper cognitive functions of his cortex,” Rao said. She turned the lights back on, ending the game. “So what you’re seeing is not only a brain-machine connection, but also a true mind-machine interaction.”
    Pearce nodded. It was impressive. One of the biggest challenges to achieving true autonomous drone capacity was artificial intelligence programming. If a computer program could ever simulate a sentient brain—and there were plenty of arguments against that eventuality—it would still be years away before that goal would be achieved. But why try to emulate a human brain with software if an actual brain could be used instead through BMI?
    “Can you imagine the possibilities? Artificial limbs, exoskeletons, blindness . . . the medical applications are endless,” Ian said.
    “So are the military ones,” Judy said. A rare scowl.
    “Do you understand now why I wanted you to be here in person?” Rao asked. She had just made Pearce Systems one of the most important players in the field of neuroprosthetics.
    Pearce nodded, trying to hide his excitement. “If you really want to impress me, next time have Jack fly me up here himself.”
    “Then what will I do?” Judy