The Tesla Legacy Read Online Free PDF

mathematics at a completely different level than others, and sixteen (cyan, orange) when he’d used it to get into MIT and take control of his own life.
    Joe glanced at the simple white-faced clock hanging from the ceiling—just after noon (cyan, blue). Lunchtime. He wasn’t hungry, but he thought it best to stick to his routine today.
    He picked up the pace and strode across the empty platform and out into the terminal itself. The air felt cooler here, but still uncomfortable. Summer had come even to the vast concourse. The weather brought heat and humidity, but also a lot of women in shorts and miniskirts. An acceptable tradeoff.
    He snapped a leash onto Edison and adjusted the dog’s blue psychiatric service vest. Joe didn’t expect to be hassled, but it was easier to put on the vest than have a conversation with some cop.
    The dog tugged on the leash, pulling them toward the food court, but when Joe headed over to the Apple balcony, Edison obediently followed. The glowing white apple meant different things to different people, but in Grand Central, it meant free Wi-Fi.
    He touched the pocket where he kept his phone in a pouch. He’d designed the pouch to block cellular signals from reaching his phone. It was his mini-Faraday cage. Somebody was marketing them now, but he’d made his years ago. He used the cage so his phone wouldn’t always be communicating with Apple, telling them his location so that they could track his movements. They didn’t need to know what he was doing.
    He took out the phone, connected to the free Wi-Fi, and discovered that in less than an hour’s walk, he’d accumulated a long list of work-related emails. California and Pellucid, the company he’d founded, were waking up. He still consulted there. He was helping to catch bad guys, or at least that’s what he used to tell himself. Now he wasn’t so sure.
    He scrolled through the list of emails and opened the one he’d most been dreading. It was an automated email sent by a tracker he’d installed in his company’s facial recognition software. The tracker checked to see how many facial recognition requests were made and how quickly they were matched. The volume of faces being fed into the system had skyrocketed to hundreds of times more than expected. Either something new had come online recently, or he had a bug to track down.
    By force of habit, he logged into the darknet and scanned through emails sent by those who’d had the opportunity to administer the poison that had caused his agoraphobia. Still nothing interesting, but they would slip up eventually and, right now, all he had was time. He would wait them out.
    With a few quick movements, he disconnected and returned to his own email. The last message in his inbox caught his eye again. It had been sitting there for days, and he couldn’t bring himself to delete it.
From: George Tesla
To: Joe Tesla
Subject: Be careful
 
Son,
I’ve said things I shouldn’t, to people I shouldn’t. I’ve set them on paths. I don’t know where they might lead. Watch your step.
Dad
     
    He sighed. He’d read it many times. It was part of the one-way conversation that his father had started up with him when Joe moved to New York. His father had once been a brilliant statistician and, despite his failings as a father, he’d at least bequeathed Joe the Tesla brains. That should count for something. So, Joe read his daily emails, but he never answered them. He’d never forgiven his father for his many sins of omission and commission during Joe’s childhood.
    Today, too late, he wished that he had.
    Edison nuzzled his hand. His brown eyes looked worried.
    “I’m OK.” Joe scratched the dog behind the ears and dropped the phone into his pouch, cutting himself off from the grid again. “Lunch?”
    Edison’s tail wagged at the familiar word, but his eyes said he knew Joe wasn’t OK.
    Joe headed over to Grand Central’s underground food court. At the Tri-Tip Grill, he ordered steak