Freedom Incorporated

by Peter Tylee

  “Well,” Jen said, shattering the tense silence that had settled between them. “This is our last opportunity to pull out.”

  Samantha vehemently shook her head. “Not a chance.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Jen nodded once and flipped the lid on her rucksack. She pulled a black jacket over her conspicuous tank top and buttoned it up at the front. “Ready?”

  “Let’s go.”

  They skirted the vending machines on light feet, heading for the only door they knew they could bypass. It was made entirely of glass, straight from the ‘40s.

  Jen plopped the rucksack onto the ground and took Cookie’s GT-field-jammer in both hands, not yet convinced it would work. Samantha nodded encouragement and she held it to each of the four alarm plates until the red LED flashed green. Then she pulled the handle, expecting an alarm to shriek. The glass was heavy, but the door openedquietly with a gust of outbound air that smelled like stale chewing gum.

  They ducked inside, the anxiety of the moment wiring their mouths shut. Jen cast one furtive glance across the quadrangle, her eyes lingering on their target. The massive plasma screen showed a proud father smiling at his son who stood receiving his degree from the Chancellor of the University. It oozed majesty, and delight, and profound happiness, and made Jen’s stomach churn in disgust. The graduate held a portable computer in his other hand and the words underneath read, “Would you trust an education not earned on a Global Integrated System?” It was one from a series of ads designed to strengthen their stranglehold on society.

  “Are you coming?” Samantha didn’t want to stay in dangerous territory any longer than necessary.

  “Yeah.” It sounded dreamy until she snapped fully out of her trance. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

  They weaved through the maze of corridors until they’d crossed to the far side of the quadrangle, immediately behind the electronic billboard on the second floor.

  “That must be it.” Jen stabbed a finger at the small panel mounted chest-height on the wall. A plethora of green lights indicated the system was functioning optimally. Overkill if you ask me,Jen thought.The previous model was a synch – remove the old image-board and insert the new one. Global Integrated Systems had spent millions developing this system,which they’dboldly announced was hack-proof. Jen remembered the leer on Cookie’s face when he’d heard the announcement. Foolish. They must’ve known they were throwing down a gauntlet.It was like a red rag to a bull for everyone in the ad-jamming business. Jen couldn’t be sure how many other jammers had found a way to circumvent the security on the new billboards, she hadn’t heard any reports. But then she rarely did, Global Integrated Systems didn’t appreciate word of that nature spreading. Ithad taken Cookie two weeks of circuit analysis and testing to come up with an idea and another two weeks to build devices capable of breaching the system.

  “It’s a shame Cookie couldn’t be here.” Jen felt another wave of doubt crushing her breath.

  “We’ll be fine,” Samantha replied, the spot of her flashlight dancing across the room. “He tested it thoroughly.”

  Jen reached into the rucksack and plucked a screwdriver set from the jostling equipment. She handed it to Samantha who immediately began unscrewing the outer case. Jen did her part by periodically squirting a blast of chill-be-quick around the edges. Cookie had warned them about that – a sensor would trigger an alarm if they removed the case, but they could render it inoperable by freezing it.

  There was a protesting groan of cold, hard plastic as Samantha peeled the case from the wall and Jen immediately sprayed more chill-be-quick across the circuits, something else Cookie had recommended.

  They goggled at the jungle of wires and circuits, dumbstruck for a short time by the apparent complexity. “Right, to work then.” Jen mustered her courage and testing the voltage across the key segments of the circuit. It was necessary groundwork in case Global Integrated Systems had hidden an individual code insideevery unit. Cookie had doubted it, but hadn’t wanted to take the chance. Jen pressed the sensors gingerly to the metal trackswhile Samantha read the voltage and checked it against the printed sheet Cookie had given them.

  “Three to go.” Jen was sweating inside her black jacket. “Ground… and the junction between the scaling-circuit and the projector.”

  “Exactly five volts.” Samantha scrolled her fingernail down the sheet. “Perfect,” she said, and gave it a tick with her pencil.

  It was dangerous work. Ever since ’59 and the big push against social dissidents the lawmakers had sought to make an example of jammers. Hefty jail terms, massive fines, years of repaying their debt to society – and the distinct possibility of a terrorism conviction.

  “That’s it.” Jen wiped her forehead with a sleeve.

  “My turn.” Samantha heated the soldering iron and worked to fuse Cookie’s custom circuit – a bird’s nest of colourful plastic-coated wires – with the control circuit. She liked to chat while she worked,keepingher mind occupied by something other than the threadlike tracks. The harder Samantha concentrated on keeping her hands steady, the more they trembled. It was a recipe for disaster when working on such a tiny scale. “So is that the last time you’ll trust Cookie’s judgement in men?”

  “I didn’t really trustit before.” A shudder ran the length of Jen’s spine. She made an expression as if she’d tasted something particularly sour. “He should stick to circuits and stay wellclear of my love-life.”

  Samantha pulled the soldering iron away to laugh. “You should’ve seen him when we first started dating.”

  Jen snickered. “I did. I was there, remember?”

  Samantha laughed again. Her vivacious appetite for laughter was why people always thought she was merry. “Yeah, but you should’ve seen how sweet he was. He means well, he really does. He just doesn’t have a clue what his friends are like. You can’t blame him really, he spends more time with them online than he does in real life. Have you seen the way he talks to them? They’re all nuts.”

  “Yeah well Russell had an implant.”

  Samantha stopped work for long enough to gape. “No!”

  “Yep.” Jen nodded, eyes wide. “He tried to comb over it for the date but you can tell.”

  Samantha giggled again. “I wonder if Cookie knows. He probably hasn’t seen the guy for months. Was it recent?”

  “Dunno. It’s hard to tell. They do a neat job these days – have it done Friday and be back at work Monday kind of thing. More chill-be-quick?” Jen offered the bottle.

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  Jen squirted another blast around the edge of the box, making sure the sensor would stay frozen while Samantha finished soldering the new circuit.

  Samantha dabbed the iron to the circuit and the smell of burning resin tickling her nose. She loved that smell, it reminded her of Cookie in his workshop and the time they’dmade love on the bench, surrounded by the seductive haze of solder resin.

  “Suction.”

  Jen handed her a tube that vacuumed the molten solder from the board. It had a mechanical plunger, which squeaked when Samantha used it. Then she lifted the small board clear of the circuit and the plasma screen went dark mid-commercial.

  “Now we’ve gotta hurry.” Jen blasted a final jet of chill-be-quick across the circuit and Samantha commenced work on the final piece of the puzzle.

  With the billboard off, security was sure to notice. Jen figured they had 20 minutes as the best-case scenario, less than five as the worst. She got the screwdrivers ready whilea wallop ofadrenaline tingled her kidneys.

  Samantha made a sloppy connection on the final node and the jammed ads appeared on the plasma screen, or so she imagined. “Go for it.” Jen stuffed some protruding wires back into place and eased the case on as fast as she dared. They worked with a screwdriver each, turning the screws so fast their forearms and wrists began to seize up.

  “Hold it you two!” The gruff voice sounded like the crunch of footsteps on gravel.

  Jen snappe
d her head around, fear dilating her pupils and making the whites of her eyes large. He was coming from their planned escape route, a great brute of a man. He was close enough for her to see his moustache and the thick stubble on his chin. The guard was barrel-chested, more gorilla than man. His enormous hands hefted a nightstick in an offensive position as he lumbered toward them.

  Samantha and Jen abandoned the final two screws and sprinted for the far end of the hall, Jen’s rucksack flailing at her back.

  Her heart pounded in her ears as she darted down two flights of stairs, taking them three at a time. They’d reached the basement. It was dank and airless and an eerie quiet perforated the dark. Samantha’s breathing was heavy with fear and Jen pulled on her elbow to make her follow into the gloom. They shuffled forward as fast as they dared with arms outstretched, probing the darkness ahead.

  “Where are we?” Samantha’s whispered, unable to keep the hint of terror from her tone.

  Jen shrugged, a useless gesture in the dark. “Dunno, I’ve never been down here before.” She scraped her fingers along the wall. Rough concrete.They were in the janitor’s realm, an intricate network of dead-ends and loop-backs where more than a handful of wayward students had become lost and disorientated in the past. She quietened her heaving breath and strained her hearing to the limit.

  Nothing.

  Did we lose him already?Jen doubted it; the guard would have difficulty explaining to a supervisor how they’d escaped. He therefore had ample interest in finding them and would probably search until dawn.

  “This way.” Jen trailed her fingers along the wall and penetrated deeper into the dark.

  Their footfalls echoed down the corridor, deafening them with chills of panic. They both understood the consequences if the guard caught them. He may be big but that doesn’t mean he’s fast, Jen thought. Maybe we can stay ahead of him… as long as we know where he is.Another shiver stung her spine. He’s calling backup.And that changed the game. They couldn’t hide in the maze beneath the University and wait for the resumption of normal activity the next day. Within the hour, the campus would be swarming with guards. All looking for us.Jen had difficulty swallowing.

  She groped in the dark until she felt Samantha and drew her close enoughto whisper in her ear, “Weneed to find a way out of here. Fast. Any ideas?”

  A frown creased Samantha’s brow but the darkness shrouded it. “I know there’s an exit at the back of 6b.” She smiled despite their predicament. “James went down there once to see what it was.”

  “That’ll do,” Jen said. “We’ll be close enough to reception to try and get out there. Except that’s the first place they’ll station extra guards.” It was decision time. Jen weighed up the risks of staying hidden against the risks of slinking out now. Neither was the obvious choice, neither looked appealing. She shuddered at the thought of remaining in the dark all night, but then realised the guards would turn on the lights as soon as they found the switch. That made hiding somewhat pointless. “All right, let’s go.”

  “Which way?” The turning in the stairwell and the pitch black had shattered Samantha’s sense of direction.

  “I think we’re under the Faculty of Applied Science.”

  Samantha sounded dubious. “What makes you think that?”

  “This tunnel curves to the right.” Jen had been thinking about that while they’d beenstumblingthrough the dark.At first she thought the zero visibility had distorted her sense of direction, but she eventually came to trust her judgement – the tunnel curved. “If we keep going this way we should be near 6b.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Ballpark anyway.” Jen shuffled forward, her paces shortened by the uncertainty of each footfall.

  They’d been walking for several minutes when the first wave of flickering tickled the fluorescent lights above. Samantha and Jen squinted to protect their eyes. After two more flickers, a searing light flooded the tunnel and briefly blinded them.

  They found the switch.Jen wired her mouth shut in case they were nearby. She motioned atSamantha to hurry and jogged quietly in what she still considered the ‘right’ direction. With the lights on it was easier to recognise the curvature of the corridor. They could also seethe damp rising from the concrete floor, which helped muffle their footfalls. And Jen clenched a protective fist around her rucksack to squelch the muted jingle of equipment.

  From somewhere behind, Jen heard voices. They were hushed, urgent voices, and they triggered another wave of adrenaline-induced panic. Suddenly the necessity for leaving the main corridor exceeded her desire to reach the 6b exit.She herded Samantha into an antechamber and quietly closed the door, thankful it didn’t screech on its rusty hinges. Then she pulled the catch that released the lock, wincing when a clack echoed through the halls. She visualised the guards trying to pinpoint the source of the sound, isolating the direction and refining their search. That won’t keep them out forever.

  She swivelled just as Samantha found the switch for the lights and a flickering fluorescence illuminated their tomb.

  Samantha gasped, “This is it.”

  “What?”

  “I recognise it. This is where James and I were.”

  Jen raised an eyebrow, “You were here too?”

  “Come on, it’s this way.” Samantha grabbed Jen’s hand and tugged her through a room filled with so many pipes they could barely see the concrete walls. Water had pooled on the floor from a leak and they splashed across the puddle just as someone pounded on the door behind them.

  Twenty metres later they arrived at a pair of solid steel doors. They swung ponderously outward to more steps when Samantha pushed on a horizontal bar. Jen touched a warning hand to Samantha’s shoulder and silently crept up the stairs. Samantha had been right – the entrance to lecture theatre 6b was to their left. Jen carefully scanned the area and strained her hearing, trying to detect whether anybody was hiding in the dark.

  “Okay, let’s go,” she whispered.

  They scuttled stealthily across the carpeted floor and looped back to the same glass doors they’d used to enter the complex. The screen caught Jen’s attention and a smile tugged on her lips despite their predicament. It depicted a gagged student sweating in frustration at the cloth stuffed in his mouth. An evil-looking computer lurked in the background, and underneath in nightmare-green were the words, “Would you trust your education to a Global Integrated Silence?” The jammed images would change every five minutes. Cookie had said his alterations were so complex that itwould take a technician half a day to fix. That was half a day for students to sit in the quadrangle and read the truth. Global Integrated Systems had knotted their own noose by attempting to make their circuit hack-proof. They couldn’t switch off an individual screen without affecting the network, and they weren’t likely to shut down the entire system just to disengage onejammedscreen.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Samantha said, stirring Jen from her reverie.

  “Okay.” She felt pleased with herself. “Let’s go.”

  They hurried around the edge of the quadrangle, staying low and hunched over in case security personnel were nearby, which seemed likely.

  Five minutes later they were clear of the University and had a leisurely stroll to the nearest portalstation. As usual, Samantha was beaming. “We did it!”

  Also as usual, Jen was more subdued, though the thrill was burning inside her like an intense flame. “I just hope they can’t undo it easily.”

  “I hope they shut the system down! But even if they don’t, we’ve still won.”

  “This round.” Jen’s smile dissolved as she thought about the long-term ramifications of their actions and about what they still had to do. “It hasn’t even begun yet.”

  Samantha disagreed. “Sure it has. It began decades ago. It just slowed down recently, that’s all. But we’re helping to speed it back up again.”

  Jen shook her head and said, “No we aren’t.” The thought punched her in the stomach, knocking the wind fr
om her. She knew they were barely more than vandals. So far.But her grandfather’s vision hadn’t rotted with his corpse; it lived on, skipping a generation to saturate Jennifer Cameron with a sense of purpose. “We haven’t started yet.” She turned to face her friend – her only friend, aside from Cookie. The other people in her life were mere acquaintances. How could she call them friends if they knew nothing about her secret life as a jammer? And she couldn’t tell them, they wouldn’t understand. Nobody understood. Nobody except Samantha and Cookie.

  Samantha stopped, returned the look, and said, “Why do you say that? We’ve been jamming for two years.”

  “And whathave we achieved?” It came out harsher than she intended and Jen immediately regretted her tone. She bit her lip and reminded herself that Samantha wasn’t the enemy. “I don’t want to be just a jammer.”

  “Then what do you want?”

  Jen clenched her jaw and absently brushed her hair back over her shoulder where it belonged. “I want to be an activist. A real one.”