Fighting for the Future, page 5
The sun finally slunk behind the blood-red horizon, allowing the city to burst into a multicoloured glow. Some shops closed down for the night while others opened, attracting a whole new breed of customers. Jharkrat ignored it all, packing up his stall as fast as he dared without raising eyebrows. He made his way home; passing by a lantern-lit vendor selling fabrics dyed a rich ruby red and threading his way through the various neon-dunked alleyways, tendrils of steam curling from gap-toothed windows. He swatted a dew-covered palm leaf out of the way, trying not to glance over his shoulder as he walked. There was no way they were still following him now. Surely he was just paranoid.
He stopped dead in his tracks. The door to his room was ajar, light spilling out. He pushed it open, fear knotting in the pit of his stomach. The whole thing had been ransacked top to bottom; drawers torn out, garments ripped to shreds, computer parts shattered to pieces on the floor. Jharkrat closed the door behind him, scuttling to examine the floorboard. A prayer to nonexistence gods leaped to his mouth. It didn’t look disturbed, but he had to make sure…
He undid the screws with sweaty fingers, tearing the board away in haste. Please be there, please be there. Warm relief flooded his system. Serah was still there, safe and sound.
“Jharkrat?” she asked as he reached for the cube, squeezing the cool metal in his calloused hands, the razor edges cutting into his flesh. It was comforting, somehow. “Is that you? Someone broke in here hours ago. They made quite a bit of noise.”
“I can tell,” said Jharkrat dryly, kicking at what had once been a widescreen tablet, the screen shattered like a spider-web. He planted himself on the floor, cradling the cube in his hands. “They really want your system, don’t they?”
“No,” murmured Serah, almost in a grumble. “They just want to destroy it. They can’t have FLT data floating around with the risk of it getting on the market. They—”
“What?” Jharkrat spluttered. “You have faster-than-light data stored inside your system?”
“Yes. But, if it isn’t accessed for five years it gets sealed with heavy encryption. I don’t think you’ll be able to break in.”
Now Jharkrat realized why they wanted the data so badly. He’d seen what happened when the genebank was leaked, coconuts spreading like the plague through the markets. The government had lost billions of baht. And if independent companies managed to use faster-than-light on their own, all their monopolies would collapse. Their starships, their tourism, their engines, everything. It would fold like a house of flimsy bamboo. People could afford to travel. See Earth. Escape from this dump.
And he held it all in his hand.
“Serah,” said Jhrarkrat, excitement dripping from every syllable, “is there a way to extract the data?”
“Perhaps. But I told you, it’s encrypted. There’s a tripwire installed. If it detects someone trying to undo the lock, it’ll self-denotate.” She paused. “It’ll destroy my entire system.”
Jharkrat chewed his cracked lips. He held in his hand what was quite possibly the last Mind in existence, and someone who was becoming a good friend. Was the information worth the risk of losing her? Not to mention the difficulties he could run into if he was caught. Did he want to cause so much trouble over data?
Then he realized it wasn’t up to him.
“What do you think?” he asked, focusing on the tiny black cube that housed the Mind. “I know someone who can help. But it has to be your decision. Do you want to risk it?”
Serah said nothing, the colours of her metal interface rising and falling. “That scientist risked everything to get me out of there with this data,” she said. “I’ve kept it safe for almost a century. They wanted to destroy it, and me along with it.” The device flashed a crimson red. “Yes, we’re going to do it.”
Jharkrat grinned. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”
Jharkrat packaged the cube tightly in a hidden pocket sewn into his trousers, normally used for storing cash. Now he’d be smuggling out the last surviving Mind in New Bangkok.
It was too risky to go out the front. He scaled the chainlink fence out the back and navigated his way around a garden of overgrown foliage and perennials, bursting out through to the street. He wasted no time mingling with the rushing crowd, rubbing sweaty shoulders under a roof of thick wires and holograms.
The tangled streets started to blur, the countless foodstalls, massage parlors, nightclubs, shrines, rippling lights and tooting auto-ricksaws sweeping past as Jharkrat twisted and turned through the tumult and the heat and the smells, waiting for the meaty hand on his shoulder that would drag him away and shove a .45 in his mouth.
No one came.
He carried Serah through the sea of teeming bodies, ducking under a low-hanging billboard and making his way into the dingy alleyway where old women made prayer beads with gnarled fingers, twisted like tree roots. He stepped in a shallow puddle, the water shivering as he wormed his way through a labyrinth of bustling back alleys, finally climbing a corkscrew staircase up to the fourth floor of what appeared to be a dilapidated apartment building. He made sure no one was looking before rapping his knuckles on the peeling wood.
The door promptly swung open. There she was, grinning at him with teeth that were black as ink. “Sawa dee, Jharkrat. Long time, eh?”
“Hello, Kwan. You still chewing those nuts?”
“Of course. Try it sometime for yourself, eh?”
“No thanks.” He stepped inside, the air conditioning fast freezing his sweat. Explosions boomed out of speakers in the adjoining room. “Got something for you.”
“Ah, yes,” she said, meshing her tiny hands together. “That’s what you always say.” She led him down the narrow corridor and into the lab. At least two dozen screens had been squeezed in here, bulging cables stapled to the ceilings and walls, pumping terabytes of data by the second. Half of the desks contained hackers, hooked up to screens by interfaces and headphones, pounding away at sticky keyboards. Kwan sat down on her overstuffed chair, taking a sip of what could have been water or vodka. “I’ve seen it all before, my friend.”
“Not like this you haven’t.” Jharkrat reached into his pocket, ripping away the stitching and bringing out the cube.
Kwan’s expression didn’t change. “What is it?”
Jharkrat opened his mouth to tell her, but Serah was faster. “You’re Jharkrat’s hacker friend, I presume?”
Kwan’s lazy smile wilted. She gripped the cube in a trembling hand. “You found a Mind?” Jharkrat nodded. “How?”
“Doesn’t matter,” he said. “Serah’s got something valuable inside her. I need you to extract it.”
“You’ve named it?” Kwan demanded. “If the Ministry catches us…”
“Then I’ll go somewhere else.” Jharkrat was about to stand up when Kwan motioned him back down again.
“Stay put,” she hissed. “Better me than someone else screwing it up.” She turned to her computer, fishing for a cable. “What did you need?”
“There’s some encrypted data I need you to unpack.”
Kwan made a small snort as she plugged Serah to the computer. “Too easy. You insult me, peuang.”
“There’s a tripwire installed,” Jharkrat said. “If triggered it’ll wipe the entire system.”
Kwan nodded, eyes sliding across the widescreen. “Ah, yes. I see it.”
“Can you break through?”
Kwan swerved around to him with a sly wink. “There you are, insulting me again.” Her fingers danced over the ash-stained keyboard in a rhythmic tat-tat-tat. “It’ll take some time. A couple hours at least.” She motioned towards the door. “Please leave. I won’t have you breathing down my neck.”
Jharkrat hesitated. It needed to be done, but he didn’t want to leave Serah in anyone’s hands. He trusted Kwan, but this was almost like leaving his daughter behind.
Almost.
“Go on,” Serah said, as if reading his mind. “I’ll be fine here.”
“See? Even she knows.”
Jharkrat took the hint. He swung the exit open, letting the soggy night swallow him up.
Jharkrat couldn’t sleep.
It wasn’t just because his wafer-thin mattress had nearly been torn in two. It was Serah who lingered in his mind, tattooed on his brain. The daughter he’d lost. He could almost hear her raspy breathing as she lay comatose in the hospital bed, feel the life seeping out of her as he stroked her silky black hair, praying she would recover, that everything would be all right.
It had never truly sunk in that his daughter had gone. He’d never moved on. Maybe that was why he named the Mind after her. To keep his daughter alive.
He wasn’t going to lose her again.
He unwound his legs from the sweaty sheets. He wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight. Best to make the most of it. He pulled on some clothes with haste, heading out the door.
The streets were busy as always despite the early hour, frozen in a never-ending slog of traffic, teeming bodies and heat, clogging up the arteries of the city. Jharkrat clambered up the stairs, not waiting to knock. Kwan met him in the hall, all calm exterior melted away.
“You!” She shoved him against the wall, gnashing those black teeth of hers. “You bastard! Did you know what was inside?”
“You’ve broken through?” asked Jharkrat, grinning.
Kwan hissed, dragging him into the computer room. She clapped her hands, the sound drowning out the hum of computer systems. All heads swiveled to face her. “Out! Now!”
No one dared to object. Desks and keyboards clattered as they rushed to escape her rage. Kwan scarcely waited until they’d all left before slamming the door shut, the frame shuddering. She rounded on him, tiny hands clenched into balled fists. He half expected her to backhand him. “You knew, didn’t you?”
“I—”
“FLT data, out of all things.” She ground her palms against her cheeks. “Maaeng eeuy! I can’t keep this here.”
“Think about how valuable it is!” Jharkrat bristled. “We’ve been looking for something like this for decades!”
“You’ll put us all in danger!”
“Not if we flood the market!”
Kwan blinked, tilting her head towards him. “You don’t want to sell it?”
Jharkrat shook his head. He’d done the math already. The data was priceless. Trying to sell something like this would just draw attention from the crime lords and get them killed. But if they made it public…
“Did you extract it?” Jharkrat demanded.
Kwan blew air out between her teeth. “Yes and no. We managed to fool the tripwire and retrieve the data, but it’s key-coded to the Mind. We can’t make another copy.”
“Meaning what?”
“That I’ll have to go.” Their heads turned to the Mind. Serah had been listening all along. “You’ll have to upload the entire system, and me along with it.”
Jharkrat stood in dismay as the pieces slotted together. They could upload the information, but they couldn’t separate Serah from it. She’d be whisked away to the pits of the Net, lost in a bottomless ocean.
Jharkrat opened his mouth to object, but clamped it shut. He was being a selfish bastard. This wasn’t about him. It had never been.
And it wasn’t his decision.
He approached the table, kneeling down like he was talking to a child. “What do you want to do?” He asked, eyes locked to the tiny cube that had been his friend for the last few days. “It’s your choice.”
The Mind made a noise that sounded like something between a sigh and a chuckle. “I think we both know the answer, Jharkrat.”
The door crashed open. A man stood there, face speckled with sweat as he panted for breath. “The vivanors,” he rasped. “They’re coming!”
Kwan blinked, spat a curse and waved him off. She rounded on him. “You brought them here?”
Jharkrat was lost for words. He’d been careful, so careful to make sure he hadn’t been followed. And this little slip up could cost them everything.
He made a snap decision, not giving himself the chance to back out. “Kwan, are your computers connected to the Net?”
“Yes, but—”
“You need to leave,” he said as others crowded into the room, looking to Kwan for the order. “I’ll take care of this.”
Kwan seemed to understand. She nodded, turned to a handful of men lingering in the corridor. “You. Make their job hell. Hold them out as long as you can.” She motioned to the others. “The rest of you, grab what you can and get to the truck. Destroy what you can’t carry.”
Everyone rushed to obey. Jharkrat caught a glimpse of a locker being flung open, heard the clatter of various handguns and revolvers handed out and magazines slotted in. But that wasn’t what he needed to focus on right now.
He pounded away at the computer, connecting it to the network. Kwan made herself busy ordering various men and women about as they dashed from room to room, arms bundled with hard drives and thick cables. Jharkrat frantically slotted the correct wires into the corresponding ports, linking Serah up to the system.
Shouts of warning floated up. They were getting close.
Jharkrat swiveled around, his eyes locking onto Kwan’s. There was nothing to be said. They knew how this was going to turn out. “You really should have tried those nuts.” Then she was gone, clambering down the back stairs and to the impatient truck loaded with equipment.
Muffled gunshots. Screams. Bullets whistled through the air, shattering glass. His fingers were a blur as he wrenched the gateway open, tethering Serah directly to the Net. In a few minutes she would be gone, the priceless data leaked onto the streets.
But she would be safe.
I might not have saved my own daughter. But I can save you.
“I wish you could come with me,” said Serah, her voice soft.
Jharkrat breathed out through his nostrils. “Me too.”
Bang. Bang bang bang. A smear of red spattered the windows, followed by a roar of pain.
“Twice humans have saved me,” Serah said, her voice dimming as the bar onscreen filled up, sucking her away one fragment at a time. A yell rang out, but the crack of a revolver silenced it. “You risked everything. Why?”
Jharkrat smiled. “Don’t you worry about that now. I’ve made my decision.”
“I wish I could have met your daughter.”
Jharkrat sensed an itch on his cheek and felt a single tear streaming down his face. He didn’t bother to wipe it away. “Me too.”
“I’ll never forget you.” There was a crack of splintering wood as the door was kicked down, armored boots charging down the hall. “I—”
The bar filled up.
Bang, bang. A man was thrown backwards, hosed down by a blaze of gunfire.
“Goodbye, Serah.” Jharkrat stabbed the button marked Enter.
Jharkrat didn’t even turn around as they thundered into the room. He watched them take aim in the screen’s polished reflection. Bullets thudded into the monitor and system, tearing it to shreds with a deafening roar and the fizzle of sparks.
Too late.
The rifle was pressed to his head, the cold kiss of death trickling down his spine as the vivanor’s finger curled around the trigger.
Goodbye, Serah.
Jharkrat gave a final grin and closed his eyes.
Do Anarchists Dream of Collective Sheep?
Izzy Wasserstein
Stop us if you’ve heard this one. A cell of revolutionaries meet in secret, knowing that if they are discovered, they will be tortured and killed. Each of them, one, two, three, four, takes every precaution. Each arrives, certain they were not followed. They greet one another as comrades, for they have placed their lives in one another’s hands.
One by one, they give their reports, share urgent news and essential whispers. One by one, until each has reported. One, two, three, four, five.
First one realizes, then another, and another, until they stare in mutual horror.
Oh, you have heard it? Tell us, then: what’s the true source of their horror?
After we become aware of the infection, or compromise, or corruption in the system, there’s screaming and threats and panic. And after that, we realize the urgency of reconstructing the past. We gather in the common room of our condemned house, around a whiteboard Six scavenged from somewhere, keeping our distance from one another. We’re still wary, still unsure if the virtual attack we’ve endured will be followed by one in meat-space, and if so, if it will include a knife in the back from one of our own.
We eye each other nervously and try to sort out how this all began. Hafsa’s soldering some old tech, turning to precision tasks as she always does when she needs to think clearly. She remembers it this way: Wulf got tipped off to what the corporate server-farm downtown is being used for, its big-box storefront sealed up tight, venting steam at all hours. Few come and go. We figured it for bad news, Hafsa says, but it's worse.
It’s always worse: we still agree on that, at least.
Wulf scratches their head and says it was Six who got the tip, Six who learned that they were beta-ing the latest and greatest in military-industrial shithousery, collating data from Wally stores, insurance databases, patient records, internet scraping, government surveillance—the whole fucked-up mess, and was using it to go full Minority Report—
That’s not right, Kelz says, sweat-soaked and more jittery than we’ve ever seen her, it was simpler than that, and eviler. Just tracking everything about everyone, keeping us all under their collective sweatshop boots until the end of time.
Couldn’t have been that, Rook says, twirling a coin between their fingers. They’ve had surveillance tech for ages. The problem is that they’re perfecting their predictive algorithms—
—Yeah, Minority Report, like I said—
—let me finish? Not for crime prediction, but eradication. Modeling everyone’s behavior down far enough that they don’t have to compel compliance. They just make tweaks that the simulation suggests and, boom, a populace who doesn’t have to do what they’re told, because they’d never consider doing anything but what’s expected of them.
