On a flat tabletop near Allison's hip, the edges of a large vertical rectangle began to glow, the shape resembling an elongated computer screen. A 3D puzzle shimmered into existence. Allison's graceful hands touched the 3D images, moving them sequentially until they locked into place. The technology displayed the shapes so viewers on all sides could watch her movements.
The puzzle pieces clicked, and a mechanized female voice intoned, "Good morning. Please state your name."
"Allison Dupree."
The disembodied voice responded, "I am authorizing access to files on this terminal … " Ellipses flashed as the system processed Allison's information on multiple levels. Guests watched in silence until the computer spoke to her again in surround sound. "Hello, Ms. Dupree. Would you like to retrieve your files, or do you wish to begin a new project?"
"Upload the most current file."
The files loaded onto the see-through screen before the audience could blink. An icon flashed signaling completion. "Your files are ready for viewing."
Whispers flew amongst the guests. A representative from the CIA spoke up. "What happens when someone other than Allison tries to access the files?"
Logan was ready with the answer. "Think of my security measures as an elaborate sign-in platform linked to your existing IT system." He paced as he explained. "Instead of the typical 'user name and password,' you connect each piece of the puzzle in a certain order you specify. Now, even if someone else discovers the sequence to unlock your data, the Invisi-Screen scans and reads your unique bio-imprint as you move the objects. If I press the image after Allison … "
Logan tapped the 3D image. The viewer went black then reverted to the original puzzle pieces floating independently. "As we speak, the system has closed access to her files. The signal sends an alert notifying the program of an abnormality."
"What happens to the files now?" Cardinal Montague from the Vatican asked, his voice raspy with age. "Will important data be lost … how do you say, in cyberspace?"
"I'll let Allison show you."
Allison's green eyes sparkled with excitement. It sent a tingle up his spine that she appreciated the complexities of the system as much as he did. Her admiration meant a lot, on a personal level. It went both ways. She'd taken it upon herself to use her gift with languages to translate the voice-activated components into French, Italian, Spanish and German, which might've taken his company months to create. This international coalition of observers was only possible at this point because of her.
"The system recognizes and responds to my voice," Allison explained. "It will bring up the puzzle for me to reconstruct." She went through the motions as she spoke. "After the bio-scans reanalyze my fingerprints and the vein pattern in my palm, my files reappear intact."
A chairman from the International Monetary Fund scoffed. "Suppose someone's holding a gun to her head?"
Logan held back a grin. This capability he'd personally engineered, drawing from his experiences in espionage as a former commander of a U.S. Special Forces team.
"Remember the retinal scans, facial recognition and thermal imaging software? My system goes on to pinpoint signs of distress within those parameters, like pupil dilation, heart rate elevation, changes in core body temperature … watch."
Privately, Logan had looked forward to this part of the demonstration most. Coming up behind Allison, he slid his arm around her waist and drew her back against his chest. His body went on high sexual alert. What he would give to have Allison to himself in the dark room with nothing but clothes separating them. His hand flared across her hipbone. One fingertip found the line of her panties. He was tempted to trace the seam downward. He forced himself to ignore his pounding lust. He drew his hand up to cup her waist instead.
With his free hand he mimicked the shape of a gun and held it under her jaw. "Get into the system," he demanded, simulating a hostage situation.
She pressed the screen.
"We're sorry," the computerized voice stated. "Access denied." A wide green laser swept the room floor to ceiling. "Detecting an unauthorized entity. Image recording to defense database … " Ellipses flashed. A red icon popped up on the Invisi-Screen . "Match: Logan Stone. Occupation: Owner, Stone Security. Known address: Seventeen Wellspring Drive, Denver, Colorado. No weapon detected. Description dispatched to security personnel."
In the far corner a printer spit out a piece of paper. Releasing Allison, he retrieved the print-out and held it up to the guests. The page displayed the picture on his diver license, along with the data the system collected with a single laser scan.