Interface by Neal Stephenson, J. Frederick George Page B

the rising sun flag of the Imperial Japanese Navy, etched in silver against a neutral gray background. At the center of that sunburst was a tiny square region that contained several hundred thousand microscopic transistors.
    But neither Park nor Toyoda nor Dr. Radhakrishnan looked at that part of it. They were all looking at the interface - the boundary between the sharp edge of the teflon casing and the brain tissue, with its infinite, organic watershed system of capillaries. It looked good: no swelling, no necrosis, no gap between the baboon and the microchip.
    "A keeper," Toyoda said, grinning, pronouncing this newly acquired bit of American slang with great precision.
    "Bingo," Park said.
    "Which baboon is this?" Dr. Radhakrishnan said.
    "Number twenty-three," Toyoda said. "We implanted three weeks ago."
    "How long has he been off the antirejection meds?"
    "One week."
    "Looks like he'll do well," Dr. Radhakrishnan said. "I suppose we should go ahead and give him a name."
    "Okay," Park said as he slurped uncertainly at his lukewarm java. "What do you want to call him?"
    "Let's call him Mr. President," Dr. Radhakrishnan said.
    Two men were waiting for Dr. Radhakrishnan in front of his office. It was unusual, this early in the morning; Dr. Radhakrishnan's secretary wouldn't even be here for another half hour. One of the men was Dr. Artaxerxes Jackman, of all people, looking somewhat grumpy and astonished. The other man was a stranger, a man in his forties with sandy blond hair. He was wearing the best suit that Dr. Radhakrishnan had ever seen west of the Mississippi, a charcoal-gray number with widely spaced stripes, sort of a City of London number. Both men stood up as Dr. Radhakrishnan entered the room.
    "Dr. Radhakrishnan," Jackman said, "no one was here so we just figured we'd set up and wait for you. I want you to meet Mr. Salvador here."
    "Dr. Radhakrishnan, it's a pleasure and an honor," Salvador said, extending his hand. He wore no jewelry except for cufflinks; when he extended his arm, just the right amount of cuff - plain, basic white - protruded from the sleeve of his jacket. He did not go in for the crushing American style of handshake. His accident was definitely not American either, but beyond that, it was as untraceable as a ransom note.
    "You are up bright and early," Dr. Radhakrishnan said, ushering Mr. Salvador into his office. Jackman had already departed, slowly and reluctantly, casting glances over his shoulder.
    "No earlier than you, Dr. Radhakrishnan, and certainly no brighter," Mr. Salvador said. "Jet lag would not allow me to sleep later and so I thought I would get an early start."
    Dr. Radhakrishnan handed him some coffee. Salvador held the mug out in front of him for a moment, examining it like a freshly excavated amphora, as though he had never seen coffee served in anything other than a cup with a saucer. "Comanches," Salvador paid, reading the mug.
    "That is the name of the football team associated with this institution," Dr. Radhakrishnan said.
    "Ah, yes, football," Salvador said, his memory jogged. He was s howing all the signs of a man who had just flown in from some o ther hemisphere and who was trying to get cued into the local c ulture. "That's right, this must be high football territory. The pilot t old me that we are on mountain time here. Is that correct?" "Yes. Two hours behind New York, one ahead of L.A." "I didn't know that such a time zone existed until this morning." "Neither did I, until I came here."
    Salvador took a sip of coffee and sat forward, all business. "Well, I would love to indulge my weakness for endless small talk , but it would be wrong to waste your time, and it is rude for m e to sit here being mysterious. I understand that you are the w orld's best brain surgeon."
    "That is flattering but not exactly true. I could not even aspire to that tide unless I devoted myself to doing procedures."
    "But instead you have chosen to devote your career to