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Cyberpunk

Page 50

by Victoria Blake


  invocation I need to do to get this goddamned weenix box to kill this shit?

  I mean, it’s not as if any of our customers are ever going to pay us again. I’d ask the guy who wrote this code, but he’s pretty much dead as far as anyone

  can work out.

  He reloaded. There was a response. It was short, authoritative, and

  helpful—just the sort of thing you almost never saw in a high-caliber

  newsgroup when a noob posted a dumb question. The apocalypse had

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  awoken the spirit of patient helpfulness in the world’s sysop community.

  Van shoulder-surfed him. “Holy shit, who knew he had it in him?”

  He looked at the message again. It was from Will Sario.

  He dropped into his chat window.

  > sario i thought you wanted the network dead why are you helping

  msces fix their boxen?

  > [sheepish grin] Gee Mr PM, maybe I just can’t bear to watch a computer

  suffer at the hands of an amateur.

  He flipped to the channel with Queen Kong in it.

  > How long?

  > Since I slept? Two days. Until we run out of fuel? Three days. Since we

  ran out of food? Two days.

  > Jeez. I didn’t sleep last night either. We’re a little short-handed around here.

  > asl? Im monica and I live in pasadena and Im bored with my homework.

  Would you like to download my pic???

  The trojan bots were all over IRC these days, jumping to every channel

  that had any traffic on it. Sometimes you caught five or six flirting with

  each other.

  It was pretty weird to watch a piece of malware try to con another instance

  of itself into downloading a trojan.

  They both kicked the bot off the channel simultaneously. He had a script

  for it now. The spam hadn’t even tailed off a little.

  > How come the spam isn’t reducing? Half the goddamned data centers

  have gone dark

  Queen Kong paused a long time before typing. As had become automatic

  when she went high-latency, he reloaded the Google homepage. Sure

  enough, it was down.

  > Sario, you got any food?

  > You won’t miss a couple more meals, Your Excellency

  Van had gone back to Mayor McCheese but he was in the same channel.

  “What a dick. You’re looking pretty buff, though, dude.”

  Van didn’t look so good. He looked like you could knock him over with a

  stiff breeze and he had a phlegmy, weak quality to his speech.

  > hey kong everything okay?

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  CORY DOCTOROW

  > everything’s fine just had to go kick some ass

  “How’s the traffic, Van?”

  “Down 25 percent from this morning,” he said. There were a bunch of

  nodes whose connections routed through them. Presumably most of these

  were home or commercial customers in places where the power was still on

  and the phone company’s COS were still alive.

  Every once in a while, Felix would wiretap the connections to see if he could

  find a person who had news of the wide world. Almost all of it was automated

  traffic, though: network backups, status updates. Spam. Lots of spam.

  > Spam’s still up because the services that stop spam are failing faster

  than the services that create it. All the anti-worm stuff is centralized in a

  couple places. The bad stuff is on a million zombie computers. If only the

  lusers had had the good sense to turn off their home PC s before keeling

  over or taking off.

  > at the rate were going well be routing nothing but spam by dinnertime

  Van cleared his throat, a painful sound. “About that,” he said. “I think it’s

  going to hit sooner than that. Felix, I don’t think anyone would notice if

  we just walked away from here.”

  Felix looked at him, his skin the color of corned beef and streaked with

  long, angry scabs. His fingers trembled.

  “You drinking enough water?”

  Van nodded. “All frigging day, every ten seconds. Anything to keep my

  belly full.” He pointed to a refilled Pepsi Max bottle full of water by his side.

  “Let’s have a meeting,” he said.

  There had been forty-three of them on D-Day. Now there were fifteen. Six

  had responded to the call for a meeting by simply leaving. Everyone knew

  without having to be told what the meeting was about.

  “So that’s it, you’re going to let it all fall apart?” Sario was the only one

  with the energy left to get properly angry. He’d go angry to his grave. The

  veins on his throat and forehead stood out angrily. His fists shook angrily.

  All the other geeks went lids-down at the site of him, looking up in unison

  for once at the discussion, not keeping one eye on a chat-log or a tailed

  service log.

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  WHEN SYSADMINS RULED THE EARTH

  “Sario, you’ve got to be shitting me,” Felix said. “You wanted to pull the

  goddamned plug!”

  “I wanted it to go clean, ” he shouted. “I didn’t want it to bleed out and keel over in little gasps and pukes forever. I wanted it to be an act of will by the global community of its caretakers. I wanted it to be an affirmative act

  by human hands. Not entropy and bad code and worms winning out. Fuck

  that, that’s just what’s happened out there.”

  Up in the top-floor cafeteria, there were windows all around, hardened

  and light-bending, and by custom, they were all blinds-down. Now Sario

  ran around the room, yanking down the blinds. How the hell can he get the

  energy to run? Felix wondered. He could barely walk up the stairs to the meeting room.

  Harsh daylight flooded in. It was a fine sunny day out there, but

  everywhere you looked across that commanding view of Toronto’s skyline,

  there were rising plumes of smoke. The TD Tower, a gigantic black

  modernist glass brick, was gouting flame to the sky. “It’s all falling apart,

  the way everything does.

  “Listen, listen. If we leave the network to fall over slowly, parts of it will

  stay online for months. Maybe years. And what will run on it? Malware.

  Worms. Spam. System processes. Zone transfers. The things we use fall

  apart and require constant maintenance. The things we abandon don’t get

  used and they last forever. We’re going to leave the network behind like a

  lime pit filled with industrial waste. That will be our fucking legacy—the

  legacy of every keystroke you and I and anyone, anywhere ever typed. You

  understand? We’re going to leave it to die slow like a wounded dog, instead

  of giving it one clean shot through the head.”

  Van scratched his cheeks, then Felix saw that he was wiping away tears.

  “Sario, you’re not wrong, but you’re not right either,” he said. “Leaving

  it up to limp along is right. We’re going to all be limping for a long time,

  and maybe it will be some use to someone. If there’s one packet being

  routed from any user to any other user, anywhere in the world, it’s doing

  its job.”

  “If you want a clean kill, you can do that,” Felix said. “I’m the PM and I

  say so. I’m giving you root. All of you.” He turned to the whiteboard where

  the cafeteria workers used to scrawl the day’s specials. Now it was covered

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  CORY DOCTOROW
r />   with the remnants of heated technical debates that the sysadmins had

  engaged in over the days since the day.

  He scrubbed away a clean spot with his sleeve and began to write out

  long, complicated alphanumeric passwords salted with punctuation. Felix

  had a gift for remembering that kind of password. He doubted it would do

  him much good, ever again.

  > Were going, kong. Fuels almost out anyway

  > yeah well thats right then, it was an honor, mr prime minister

  > you going to be okay?

  > ive commandeered a young sysadmin to see to my feminine needs and

  weve found another cache of food thatll last us a coupel weeks now that were

  down to fifteen admins—im in hog heaven pal

  > youre amazing, Queen Kong, seriously. Dont be a hero though. When

  you need to go go. Theres got to be something out there

  > be safe felix, seriously—btw did i tell you queries are up in Romania?

  maybe theyre getting back on their feet .

  > really?

  > yeah, really, we’re hard to kill—like fucking roaches

  Her connection died. He dropped to Firefox and reloaded Google and it was

  down. He hit reload and hit reload and hit reload, but it didn’t come up. He closed his eyes and listened to Van scratch his legs and then heard Van type a little.

  “They’re back up,” he said.

  Felix whooshed out a breath. He sent the message to the newsgroup, one

  that he’d run through five drafts before settling on, “Take care of the place,

  okay? We’ll be back, someday.”

  Everyone was going except Sario. Sario wouldn’t leave. He came down to

  see them off, though.

  The sysadmins gathered in the lobby and Felix made the safety door go up,

  and the light rushed in.

  Sario stuck his hand out.

  “Good luck,” he said.

  “You too,” Felix said. He had a firm grip, Sario, stronger than he had any

  right to be. “Maybe you were right,” he said.

  “Maybe,” he said.

  “You going to pull the plug?”

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  WHEN SYSADMINS RULED THE EARTH

  Sario looked up at the drop-ceiling, seeming to peer through the reinforced

  floors at the humming racks above. “Who knows?” he said at last.

  Van scratched and a flurry of white motes danced in the sunlight.

  “Let’s go find you a pharmacy,” Felix said. He walked to the door and the

  other sysadmins followed.

  They waited for the interior doors to close behind them and then Felix

  opened the exterior doors. The air smelled and tasted like mown grass, like

  the first drops of rain, like the lake and the sky, like the outdoors and the

  world, an old friend not heard from in an eternity.

  “Bye, Felix,” the other sysadmins said. They were drifting away while he

  stood transfixed at the top of the short concrete staircase. The light hurt his eyes and made them water.

  “I think there’s a Shopper’s Drug Mart on King Street,” he said to Van.

  ‘We’ll throw a brick through the window and get you some cortisone, okay?”

  “You’re the Prime Minister,” Van said. “Lead on.”

  They didn’t see a single soul on the fifteen-minute walk. There wasn’t a

  single sound except for some bird noises and some distant groans, and the

  wind in the electric cables overhead. It was like walking on the surface of

  the moon.

  “Bet they have chocolate bars at the Shopper’s,” Van said.

  Felix’s stomach lurched. Food. “Wow,” he said, around a mouthful of

  saliva.

  They walked past a little hatchback, and in the front seat was the dried

  body of a woman holding the dried body of a baby, and his mouth filled

  with sour bile, even though the smell was faint through the rolled-up

  windows.

  He hadn’t thought of Kelly or 2.0 in days. He dropped to his knees and retched

  again. Out here in the real world, his family was dead. Everyone he knew was

  dead. He just wanted to lie down on the sidewalk and wait to die, too.

  Van’s rough hands slipped under his armpits and hauled weakly at him.

  “Not now,” he said. “Once we’re safe inside somewhere and we’ve eaten

  something, then you can do this, but not now. Understand me, Felix? Not

  fucking now.”

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  CORY DOCTOROW

  The profanity got through to him. He got to his feet. His knees were

  trembling.

  “Just a block more,” Van said, and slipped Felix’s arm around his shoulders

  and led him along.

  “Thank you, Van. I’m sorry.”

  “No sweat,” he said. “You need a shower, bad. No offense.”

  “None taken.”

  The Shopper’s had a metal security gate, but it had been torn away from

  the front windows, which had been rudely smashed. Felix and Van squeezed

  through the gap and stepped into the dim drugstore. A few of the displays

  were knocked over, but other than that, it looked okay. By the cash

  registers, Felix spotted the racks of candy bars at the same instant that Van

  saw them, and they hurried over and grabbed a handful each, stuffing their

  faces.

  “You two eat like pigs.”

  They both whirled at the sound of the woman’s voice. She was holding a

  fire axe that was nearly as big as she was. She wore a lab coat and comfortable shoes.

  “You take what you need and go, okay? No sense in there being any trouble.”

  Her chin was pointy and her eyes were sharp. She looked to be in her forties.

  She looked nothing like Kelly, which was good, because Felix felt like running

  and giving her a hug as it was. Another person alive!

  “Are you a doctor?” Felix said. She was wearing scrubs under the coat, he saw.

  “You going to go?” She brandished the axe.

  Felix held his hands up. “Seriously, are you a doctor? A pharmacist?”

  “I used to be an RN, ten years ago. I’m mostly a Web designer.”

  “You’re shitting me,” Felix said.

  “Haven’t you ever met a girl who knew about computers?”

  “Actually, a friend of mine who runs Google’s data center is a girl. A woman,

  I mean.”

  “You’re shitting me,” she said. “A woman ran Google’s data center?”

  “Runs,” Felix said. “It’s still online.”

  “NFW,” she said. She let the axe lower.

  “Way. Have you got any cortisone cream? I can tell you the story. My

  name’s Felix and this is Van, who needs any antihistamines you can spare.”

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  WHEN SYSADMINS RULED THE EARTH

  “I can spare? Felix old pal, I have enough dope here to last a hundred years.

  This stuff’s going to expire long before it runs out. But are you telling me that the ’Net’s still up?”

  “It’s still up,” he said. “Kind of. That’s what we’ve been doing all week.

  Keeping it online. It might not last much longer, though.”

  “No,” she said. “I don’t suppose it would.” She set the axe down. “Have you

  got anything to trade? I don’t need much, but I’ve been trying to keep my

  spirits up by trading with the neighbors. It’s like playing civilization.”

  “You have neighbors?”

  “At least ten,” she said. “The people in the restaurant across the way make

  a pretty good soup, even if most of the veg i
s canned. They cleaned me out of

  Sterno, though.”

  “You’ve got neighbors and you trade with them?”

  “Well, nominally. It’d be pretty lonely without them. I’ve taken care of

  whatever sniffles I could. Set a bone—broken wrist. Listen, do you want

  some Wonder Bread and peanut butter? I have a ton of it. Your friend looks

  like he could use a meal.”

  “Yes please,” Van said. “We don’t have anything to trade, but we’re both

  committed workaholics looking to learn a trade. Could you use some

  assistants?”

  “Not really.” She spun her axe on its head. “But I wouldn’t mind some company.”

  They ate the sandwiches and then some soup. The restaurant people

  brought it over and made their manners at them, though Felix saw their

  noses wrinkle up and ascertained that there was working plumbing in the

  back room. Van went in to take a sponge bath and then he followed.

  “None of us know what to do,” the woman said. Her name was Rosa, and

  she had found them a bottle of wine and some disposable plastic cups from

  the housewares aisle. “I thought we’d have helicopters or tanks or even

  looters, but it’s just quiet.”

  “You seem to have kept pretty quiet yourself,” Felix said.

  “Didn’t want to attract the wrong kind of attention.”

  “You ever think that maybe there’s a lot of people out there doing the same

  thing? Maybe if we all get together we’ll come up with something to do.”

  “Or maybe they’ll cut our throats,” she said.

  Van nodded. “She’s got a point.”

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  CORY DOCTOROW

  Felix was on his feet. “No way, we can’t think like that. Lady, we’re at a

  critical juncture here. We can go down through negligence, dwindling away

  in our hiding holes, or we can try to build something better.”

  “Better?” She made a rude noise.

  “Okay, not better. Something though. Building something new is better

  than letting it dwindle away. Christ, what are you going to do when you’ve

  read all the magazines and eaten all the potato chips here?”

  Rosa shook her head. “Pretty talk,” she said. “But what the hell are we

  going to do, anyway?”

  “Something,” Felix said. “We’re going to do something. Something is better

  than nothing. We’re going to take this patch of the world where people are

  talking to each other, and we’re going to expand it. We’re going to find

 

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