The Dane Commission (The Dane Chronicles) (5 page)

“Yes sir, it has been terrific, and
everyone has been very helpful.”

“Wonderful, that’s good. Have you
received your computer, and have you had a chance to get briefed on it yet?”

“Yes, on both counts. I’m ready to get
started.”

“Excellent,” Mr. James said, “Today I
want to explain a little more about the problem we have, and explain about the
help you will get from Information Services. Also, Ryan please call me Ben, it
will help move things along more quickly.”

Ryan pulled out a pen to take notes.
“Don’t worry about taking notes right now, Ryan. This meeting is more
conceptual in nature.” Ben walked around his desk and sat back down.

“Basically, what SID said in your interview was correct. The problem does seem
to be limited in proximity, and it is indeed limited in scope, albeit, a very
big scope. Let's start with the research component of this Facility.”

“There are many, many scientists
working upstairs, each with their own research staff and labs conducting
studies, and experiments constantly. The complete volume of their research data
is immense, stored locally, and must be available instantly around the world
for collaboration. Their data, when observed independently, shows no indication
of any flaw or discrepancy. None.”

Ben stood up and walked to his
mini-refrigerator to get a bottled water. He waved one to Ryan who shook his
head, and without pausing continued, “Now consider the hospital component of
the Facility. Each and every patient has a volume of information that describes
them, and we are currently treating nearly 15,000 within these walls. The vast
archive of patient data we hold is the foundation from which the research is
derived and later executed.”

“Ryan, our interest in this project,
and the reason you were hired, is to closely examine the point where the
research queries for data and treatment, meet the volumes of patient
information and care, and learn why there are occasional disagreements.”

Moving back to his desk, Ben continued,
“As far as I am aware there are only 144 instances of these disagreements,
which my group calls ‘data collisions’. Also, as far as I am aware, our
facility is the only instance of this anomaly. Somewhere within this Facility,
there seems to be an error that causes, random and infrequent data bits to be
scrambled.”

“Our concern is that, when these data
collisions do occur, they can create erroneous treatments from the prescribing
research scientists resulting in incorrect treatments for the patients. While
the percentage of these occurrences is below .3 of a percent, it remains true
that if even one person comes to harm, we have failed in our mission.”
Ben leaned back in his chair, making eye contact with Ryan. “So far, all of the
treatment errors have been caught in time, and no one has been injured.”

“Ryan,” he said, “having this problem
at our facility is an embarrassment, and it could lead to serious attention,
especially if someone is harmed. My people can’t seem to get a handle on where
the problem lies. From what has been reported, I don’t believe this is a coding
problem. That’s why we hired you rather than another programmer. What we need
is a detective who can answer the question,
‘Under
what circumstances is this glitch going to occur?’
After that I can have my
staff scrutinize that bit of the program and make any necessary corrections.”

Smiling again, Ben said, “I realize it
must sound overly complex and ambiguous at the same time, but there you have
it. Ultimately, I’m hoping that you will be able to reproduce the error, and we
can move on from there. Any questions?”

“Not at the moment, I believe I
understand. Probably I’ll have thousands after I’ve had a chance to get deeper
into it,” he said.

“Sure, sure that’s to be expected,”
said Ben as he looked out the window and took a long drink of water.
“I’m sure it will take some digging just to figure out where you should even
start your search.”

Glancing at his watch, Ben said, “Let's
go over to the programming staff. These are the guys that can answer questions
for you and write test queries, that sort of thing.”

With that Ben stood up, walked around
the desk, and out the door. Ryan followed as they went back down to the 75
^th
floor and headed to a series of cubicles on the far right-hand side.

This was an area where it looked as if
the people, who worked here, might actually live there too. There were lamps,
mini-fridges, pillows, a small vid player here, another one there. Cheap
headphones lying about, and papers, pencils and raggedy binders were
everywhere. There was a doll of some sort pinned to the outside a cubicle wall
with a note saying
‘Death to the Pizza Mongers’
. Soda cans and pop tarts
seemed to be the meal of choice. The waste cans were full to over-flowing as if
even the cleaning staff were reluctant to come here.

Ben was unperturbed as he stepped over
a guitar that had fallen to the ground. Without hesitating he reached in and
squeezed the shoulder of a young man with long hair sitting in front of a
multi-screen array. With earpieces playing some sort of techno jam, he appeared
to be watching lines of code rapidly moving by. A text editor of some sort was
waiting for him on another screen, and the others displayed a series net apps
and mail programs. Ignoring the clutter, Ryan thought it was an impressive
set-up.

As Ben shook him from his cyber
reverie, the young programmer turned and pulled the audio pieces from his ears,
“Yes sir, Mr. James what can I help you with?”

“David this is Ryan Dane, the fellow I
told you about yesterday. I would like you to introduce him to the rest of your
group, and explain how you can help him on the data-collisions project.”

“Yes Sir. I’ll introduce you to the
guys right now; they’re all here.”

Ben turned to leave, “Ryan, you’re in
good hands. Call me if you need anything. I’ll check in with you later next
week to see how you’re coming along.”

“Thanks Ben!” Ryan said.

He wasn’t sure if Ben heard him or not.
It looked like he was making a hasty retreat.

Turning back, Ryan saw that David had
already stood up and was trying to get around a gap between the cubicles.
Turning around in a circle David said, “Hey everyone listen up! This is the guy
working on the hospital data collisions. Poke your head out, and say, ‘Hello’.”

With a few groans and at least one
muffled curse, the rest of the group stood up. No one made a move to shake
hands, or even come out from their cubicles. Ryan got the feeling this wasn’t a
project anyone was excited about. Waiting for the deepening silence to end,
Ryan took a stab at breaking the ice.

“Well today’s my third day, and I
really appreciate all of you taking the time to visit with me. Who here has
actually worked on the project?”
“Hi, I’m Chris. I’ve matched over 40,000 data clusters and observed nothing out
of the ordinary.”

“I’m Les, same here.”
The man in the cubicle next to David stood up. Ryan thought he looked more like
a soap star than a programmer. He shook Ryan’s hand, “I’m Jim and I’ve looked
at it too; there’s a lot of data to consider. We should talk about it in more
detail when you’re up to speed.”

“I would like that Jim, thank you.”

There were two others, peeking over their cubicle walls that didn’t respond at
all.

Ryan looked at David and said, “Well,
thank you very much David. I’m looking forward to working with all of you, and
I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other soon. As Jim said, I need to look
at what’s involved and get more information before I can even start to ask the
right questions. Thanks everyone!”
Ryan took David’s hand and gave it a hearty shake before leaving.

Walking back to his own desk, he knew
he would have to build a relationship with this group if he was going to make
any progress. He didn’t think this would present any problems. They reminded
him of some of the smart and quirky information techs that he’d worked with for
years.

Later that the afternoon, he went to
the 82nd floor for his meeting with Dorothy Allen. It was the executive portion
of the Hospital Patient Research Division. Ms. Allen’s office was near the
center, not far from the front lobby area. As he approached, a secretary with a
stern expression appeared to bar the way.
“Excuse me, may I help you?” she said in an overly dry voice. Older than Ryan,
she still looked wiry and springy and ready to wrestle him to the ground if
need be. He didn’t want to test her.

“Yes of course, my name is Ryan Dane.
I’m a new hire, and I believe I am scheduled to meet with Ms. Allen at two
o’clock,” he said.

“Please have a seat while I check.”
She led Ryan to a reception area not far from the elevators. She began
aggressively pressing buttons on the keyboard at the edge of her desk.
“Ah yes Mr. Dane, I have your appointment,” she said, “I’ll let her know you
are here.”

Not a fan of this overly formal
atmosphere, he surveyed the floor. The detailed arrangement of furniture and
plants obsessively wanted one to feel comfortable, but the result was a rigid
stiffness that made you afraid to touch anything. A Zen garden made of broken
glass and barbwire. Restless, he looked forward to returning downstairs.

A few minutes later, Cynthia returned,
“Ms. Allen will see you now, right this way.”

Ryan followed her to Ms. Allen’s
office, where they found her pouring water from a large crystal pitcher into an
intricately cut glass. He could hear the slight tink as they came into contact.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Dane, may I call
you Ryan?” she said as she put the pitcher down and approached to shake hands.

“Yes please do, it’s really wonderful to see you again. I wanted to thank you
for this opportunity.”

“Well, please call me Dorothy, and it’s
very nice to have you here. I understand you met with Ben James this morning. I
sincerely hope he was helpful in getting you started.”

He could hear the urgency in her voice.

“That’s correct, I’ve met with Mr.
James, and with the team of programmers he has made available.”

“And what do you understand of the
problem now?” she said.

Ryan had years of experience reading personalities, and he knew when to take someone
seriously. Ryan was an excellent communicator because he had always been able
to gauge what the other person needed to hear. Right now, Dorothy needed to
perceive that he shared her perspective on the problem. It was important that
he understood the level of severity she associated with it. Pausing only for a
second, he responded, choosing his words carefully.
 
“I believe patients of this facility are at risk from their treatments due to a
random mix-up of research data that ultimately derives their treatment. The
frequencies of such instances are incredibly low, somewhere much less than 1%.
However, because the result may cause harm to our patients, it violates the
mission of the IntelliHealth Facility, and is therefore unacceptable,” he said
in a single breath.

She sat down on a couch in front of her
desk, and indicated he should sit as well.

“Very good Ryan, well said. Perhaps you
are the right man for the job.”

After joining her, she continued.

“My problem is that the help I have
received from Information Services has achieved nothing. I am the person who
has borne the responsibility of the research and treatment applied to our
patients, and I am stymied by a computer glitch. I am frustrated and concerned
with what might happen… or might never happen. I need to know that our patients
are not at risk from misapplied treatments.”

He listened to her without blinking.
When she paused, he waited the exact amount of time to show a measured
response.
“I understand the scope of the problem and share your concern. I will bring you
some answers as quickly as possible.”

“Thank you, Ryan. Please let me know if
you need anything, and if anyone tries to slow you down, do not hesitate to
contact me. I look forward to hearing your first report.”

He understood that she was dismissing
him, and stood to leave. With a quick nod, he headed out the door, and without
a word made his way back to his office. The meeting with Dorothy Allen had
served to put this project in perspective. He believed Dorothy was genuinely
worried; why wasn’t Ben’s reaction similar? He knew one thing for sure; he
seemed to have two bosses, each with their own agenda.
This was going to be a bitch.