Extinction 6

by Hosein Kouros-Mehr

  “Stand by,” she replies in his earpiece.

  Gareth Allen comes on the line. “Manos, my friend, how are you?”

  “Decompressing. How’s the CIA, Gareth?”

  “Always a crisis brewing.”

  Manos laughs. “GoldRock is here to help.”

  “I have an update on the China offensive.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “The President’s press conference is tomorrow. Have you prepared the Information Tariffs?”

  “Yes. We are set to launch.”

  “How do they look?”

  “Like gold. We have a new Google ad platform and our adversaries will pay a steep price to get online. It’s ready for rollout.”

  “Advertisements? That doesn’t sound very threatening.”

  “Don’t worry, it’s a work of genius. We will slam China and Russia in the gut. They will regret having messed with America.”

  “That’s what I want to hear, Manos. Sometimes overwhelming force is the only option.”

  “Agreed. With this rollout, we’ll blind them and amputate their legs. As soon as they realize information is no longer free, they will piss their pants!”

  “Excellent.”

  “Should we go live with it?”

  “Not yet. The President is preparing for his address. He will outline tough measures against China. He won’t mention Google by name but your work is front and center.”

  “Got it. So we launch after the President’s speech?”

  “Yes.”

  Manos raises a fist. “Great news! That’s our final milestone. When do you send me payment?”

  Gareth’s voice lowers. “What’s the hurry? You’ll get your money.” He pauses and changes the subject. “Listen, I have another request for you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Last week, we intercepted an encrypted message from New China.”

  “You mean from space?”

  “Yes. It appears the Chinese have developed a secret communication system for their Mars colony. We’ve been unable to hack their messages.”

  Manos grins. “How can I help?”

  “I tasked someone at Google to decipher the code. The deadline was yesterday, and I’ve heard nothing from him.”

  “Who?”

  “Austin Sanders, head of their A.I. department. He has ignored my phone calls. I’m suspicious he’s hiding something from me.”

  Manos stretches his neck. “Let me take care of it.”

  “Okay, see what you can find, Manos. It would be great to crack the code and have more ammo against China.”

  “Will do, Gareth.”

  On the massage table, Manos covers himself with a towel and motions for the masseuses to leave the room. He dons a robe and walks to his secretary’s desk across the hall. “Felina, get my Chief of Staff on the line.”

  She looks up at her boss. “You got it.”

  Manos enters his top-floor office and sees the Manhattan skyline stretching across the glass-paned wall. Trains whizz across the city in concrete tubes. He pours himself some bourbon and glances at the holographic stock ticker.

  His smartglasses ring. He places them on his face and sits at the gold-plated desk. His view shows, “Incoming call—Seth Wengardt, Chief of Staff” and he accepts the video request.

  Seth appears. “Good afternoon, boss.”

  “Cheers. I have an update for the Google program.”

  “Listening.”

  “Regarding the launch,” Manos says. “We will go live tomorrow after the President’s speech to the nation. Make sure everyone is on board.”

  “Yes, sir. I briefed Google’s management team and they’re ready to execute the new platform.”

  “Perfect. What about the CEO?”

  “Bethany Andrews was not involved. I did not communicate with her, as you requested.”

  “Great. Listen, my hunch is that she will try to block the rollout. Do everything you can to stop her.”

  “Can do, sir.”

  “Monitor her activity and if you see resistance, let me know immediately.”

  “Absolutely. She’s on my blacklist.”

  Manos stretches his arms. “Have you updated the software policy for enemies of the state?”

  “Yes. China, Russia and Iran will no longer have access to Google products. They’ll be offline instantly.”

  Manos sips the bourbon. “A punch in the gut. I like it! Tomorrow we get the green light. Be ready.”

  “What time?”

  “My guess is late morning. The President will introduce the offensive in his announcement. As soon as he finishes, you proceed with the rollout.”

  “You got it, sir. We are ready.”

  “Good.” Manos puts down his glass. “One other thing.”

  “Sir?”

  “The CIA notified me about some Chinese communications they’ve been unable to hack. Apparently, they requested work from Google but heard nothing back. They’re suspicious something’s going on.”

  Seth pauses. “The CIA thinks Google is holding information from them?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who’s involved?”

  “The head of Google’s A.I. department. His name is Austin Sanders.”

  “Let me see what I can find.” Seth looks down and types on a keyboard. “I’ll scan the company’s message servers. Give me one minute.”

  “Call me when you’re done.” Manos slips from his robe and puts on a pair of workout shorts and sneakers. Through his smartglasses, he clicks an icon and a floor panel retracts, revealing a treadmill. He sets its speed to “4.5” and begins a light jog.

  “I found something,” Seth says.

  Manos slows to a walk. “That was quick.”

  “There are two sources about an encrypted radio signal. The first is a call between Austin Sanders and Gareth Allen where they set a five-day deadline for the work.”

  “Yes, that’s the one.”

  “There’s another exchange five days later between Austin Sanders and an Anil Anaya about a transmission from Barnard’s Star.”

  Manos rolls his eyes. “What does that have to do with China?”

  “Apparently, Anil believes the CIA was wrong. The radio signal did not originate in New China.”

  “What?”

  “It appears to be from a nearby star, not from Mars.”

  Manos stops walking. “A message from space?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have they cracked the code?”

  Seth hesitates. “…apparently, it’s some sort of countdown…”

  “What? Are you sure?”

  “Yes. It ends tomorrow at noon.”

  “What happens then?”

  “I don’t know, sir. Apparently, Austin Sanders believes it’s the end times.”

  Manos bursts into laughter. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!” He giggles as he speaks. “Do you know what I smell, Seth?”

  “Sir?”

  “A massive profit.” He howls and raises his fists. “This is a huge tabloid story! The Telegraph or the Enquirer will pay top dollar for a spread like this.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, it’s an easy $50 million.”

  Seth’s eyes widen. “Would you like me to leak this to the press?”

  Manos sobers up. “Leak? That’s sophomoric, Seth. You should know the next steps.”

  “Apologies, I misspoke.”

  “What are the three rules of GoldRock?”

  “Make a profit. Protect our assets. Don’t hurt our employees.”

  “Exactly. Money is the name of the game but brand and loyalty come first. GoldRock has integrity. We are an A+ investment firm.”

  “Absolutely, sir.”

  “So what will you do next?”

  Seth pauses and thinks. “…I’ll spin a teaser sample and send it to the major tabloids to start a bidding war.”

  “Make sure to pose as a Google employee. They cannot trace any of this back t
o GoldRock. And remember, you can’t communicate anything to the CIA. We must protect our reputation.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Start the bidding at $10 million. Talk to our marketing team and make it a juicy story.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good work, Seth, now get the job done.” Manos ends the call and laughs.

  A countdown to the end times!

  He yells to his assistant. “Felina, get Gareth Allen back on the line.”

  “Yes, Mr. Kharon.”

  The smartglasses buzz and Gareth appears on the screen. “Manos?”

  “Friend, we’ve solved your Google issue, and it will only cost you $10 million for our stealth services.”

  “You cracked the Chinese code? That was fast! What have you found?”

  “It appears Austin Sanders decrypted the signal you sent to him. You were right. His team has kept the results from you all along.”

  “Those commie bastards.”

  “It gets worse. They’re about to reveal their findings to the press.”

  “What does the message say?”

  “I have no idea.”

  Gareth grinds his teeth. “Leaking classified information…that’s treason! We will lock them up for that…”

  “Give them hell, Gareth.”

  “Thank you, Manos. I’ll take it from here.”

  8.

  BETH CLIMBS a staircase to the roof deck of her Berkeley home and steps into her helicopter. She straps herself in. “Cooper, drive me to work.”

  The engine turns on and the blades start to spin. “You will arrive in fifteen minutes,” her A.I. responds.

  The chopper rises above the Berkeley Hills and heads south to Mountain View. Below lie the ruins of the Bay Bridge, once the thoroughfare connecting San Francisco and Berkeley. Train tubes anchored to its steel cables ferry passengers to the downtown islands huddling in the Pacific Ocean.

  “Cooper, what’s happening in the world?”

  “It’s Monday, August 14, 2066. Here are today’s top stories from the Telegraph. Space Countdown - Scientists have discovered a mysterious radio signal from a nearby star. A team at Google decrypted the code and discovered that it originated in Barnard’s Star, six light-years away.”

  Beth’s eyebrows rise.

  I haven’t heard about this.

  “The message appears to be a countdown ending today at noon Pacific Standard Time. Google scientists believe it may end in a cataclysmic event. Space enthusiasts from across the globe are gathering to mark the event, some proclaiming it to be the apocalypse.”

  The end of the world in two hours? Beth chuckles. Great way to start the week.

  “War update - China is escalating its cyber warfare offensive, attacking banks and infrastructure along the East Coast. Tomorrow the President is expected to declare bold initiatives that may include tariffs on information and technology.”

  Beth’s eyes widen. “Cooper, get my executive staff on the line.”

  Instantly, six frames appear on the tablet, each caption with a title—Chief Financial Officer, Chief Legal Officer, Chief Marketing Officer, Chief Technology Officer, Chief Communications Officer, and Chief Human Resources Officer. One by one, the executives answer the call and appear on the screen.

  Beth stares into the tablet’s camera. “Team, it has come to my attention that new war measures go into effect tomorrow and we will be affected. We must stand up against the government. We can’t allow them to dictate our policies.”

  The group is silent.

  She raises her voice. “Did you hear me? Google will not be a party to the President’s actions. The government wants to punish China and Russia with new rules that will backfire and hurt everyone at home. We will put up resistance, understood?”

  No one speaks up.

  Beth grinds her teeth. “Ben? What do you know about these tariffs?”

  Ben Daley, Chief Technology Officer, shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know anything about them.”

  Thomas Rosenberg breaks the silence. “Beth, are you talking about the motion approved by our shareholders last week, the Information Tariffs?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “I ratified them yesterday.”

  Beth fumes in anger. “You did what?! You executed the changes without running them by me?”

  He hesitates. “…they told me you authorized the plans. In fact, your signature was on the docket.”

  “Who’s they?”

  “GoldRock.”

  Camila Dominguez, Chief Legal Officer, interrupts. “GoldRock submitted them to me as well and threatened legal action if I didn’t approve. We had no choice—”

  “This is coercion,” Beth shouts. “GoldRock is illegally manipulating my leadership team!”

  “They know what they’re doing,” Camila says. “The moves were approved by our shareholders and we’re legally bound to execute them.”

  Beth shakes her head. “Manos is behind all of this. Why are you so afraid of him? GoldRock is just an investment company?”

  Thomas shrugs. “They have an army of lawyers and government officials backing them. We don’t stand a chance.”

  Beth points at the camera. “Bullshit! You will listen to me. As Google’s CEO, I have the final say on our policies, and I refuse to institute these new rules. Camila, I want you to take legal action and delay them from going into effect. Do you understand?”

  Camila sighs. “We can try, but it’s an uphill battle.”

  “Do any of you see the stakes here?”

  The team is silent.

  Beth fumes. “You want people to pay for web search? You want to tax information like it’s a commodity? Imagine the consequences. Our culture and legacy are on the line. Google’s core principles will be wiped away the second these tariffs go online…”

  Her executive staff disappears, and the screen goes blank as Cooper’s voice fills the cockpit. “Beth, there is an incoming call from unknown. You are required to accept this call.”

  What the hell?

  A bearded man in a navy suit appears on the tablet screen. “Bethany Andrews?”

  Beth blocks the camera with her hand. “Who are you? How did you get my phone number?”

  “This is Gareth Allen from the CIA. I’m calling to notify you that we are issuing a warrant for your arrest.”

  Her face grows pale. “What is this about?”

  “You are charged with leaking sensitive state information, a felony under federal law.”

  “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

  “You can ask your employee, Austin Sanders. We gave him classified information about an encrypted radio signal and he appears to have released it to the press. This is a serious offense, Dr. Andrews. We will prosecute to the fullest extent of the law.”

  “Radio signal? I haven’t heard of this before.”

  “A court order will be sent to you. We will see you soon.” He ends the call.

  Beth rubs her face in frustration.

  Everything is falling apart.

  “Cooper, call Austin Sanders.”

  After a brief lag, Austin’s face appears on the tablet. “Good morning, boss.”

  Beth seethes. “Hey, I received a troubling call from the CIA. What is this about classified information?”

  “It’s nothing, Beth.”

  “Apparently, you’ve committed a federal crime and I’m being held responsible!”

  “What? There’s no crime here.”

  “Did the CIA contact you about a radio signal?”

  Austin falters. “…well, yes. They thought it was secret communications from China but it turns out to be from space. It’s some sort of countdown from a star.”

  Beth throws her hands in the air. “The countdown from Barnard’s Star? It’s all over the news! You’re the one behind this?”

  He stutters. “…yes. My team cracked the code. I’m not sure how the story leaked to the press. Somehow it’s gone viral and now there’s
a circus here on campus.”

  She shakes her head. “This is too much, Austin. Come to my office in ten minutes. I’m arriving at work now.”

  She ends the call as her helicopter approaches Mountain View and descends onto the employee parking lot. She glances below at the executive helipads and spots hundreds of protestors with placards.

  What is going on?

  The helicopter stops its descent and a red light flashes in the cockpit. “Beth, your parking space appears to be occupied. We cannot land here.”

  She looks closer and sees people with signs—“Jesus is coming” and “What does Google know?”

  “Cooper, what are these agitators doing here?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Park the chopper on the executive level.”

  The helicopter turns and heads for the tallest building on campus, landing on its rooftop helipad. Beth rushes from the vehicle and runs down a flight of stairs to her top-floor office. Her massive, oak-walled suite commands a sweeping view of Silicon Valley.

  She turns on YouTube TV and flips to the news. “…with less than an hour remaining in the countdown from space, people around the world are frantically stocking up on food and emergency supplies…” Numbers flash on the bottom of the screen. “45:32, 45:31, 45:30…”

  This is madness.

  Beth places her Vision smartglasses on her face. “Cooper, send a message to my senior employees.”

  “What would you like to say?”

  She takes a deep breath. “Colleagues, I order you to delay the implementation of the Information Tariffs. We are at a critical crossroads. External forces are attempting to change Google’s culture. Their fear-mongering and strong-arm tactics must not sway us from our mission.”

  On the television, a protestor sets fire to a Google banner and screams into the camera. “The end times are here!”

  Beth lowers the volume. “Friends, we must stand up to GoldRock and the government. They are trying to change our core values of innovation and freedom of information. These ideals are under attack by a merciless force that will take us to a dark age.”

  “Would you like me to send the message?” Cooper asks.

  “With highest priority.”