by Peter Tylee
She reached into her jeans and pressed the ‘next’ button to switch identity. A disk swivelled in her little black box, shrouding the previous microchip with titanium and exposing the following one. Now, if anyone scanned her, she’d be someone else. She shivered when she thought, What if a chipping squad has her?Then she swallowed hard, abrading herself for leaving Jen alone.
Samantha wandered around the mall searching for Jen,but still hadn’t found her after two hours. It was just too big. There were thousands of people, none of who seemed the least bit interested in listening to her quandary.And she didn’t dare ask whether anyone had seen what had happened. That’d be too dangerous. There could be a chipping squad around.She tried to see whether anyone was furtively using a handheld scanner but there was too much activity to be sure.
Nothing looks out of place.She knew it was false sanctuary – chipping squads fostered tranquillity, they needed it. They scanned in silence, reading personal information without consent and without anybody being aware of their presence.
So, feeling disquieted but with nothing left to do, Samantha decided to return home. She’ll meet up with us there… if she can.
*
The Raven watched Jennifer’s friend, trailing her from a discreet distance. His philosophy was simple – never abandon a target. He would keep tracking her until he received notification that the contract was no longer available. What if Cameron escapes? What if Sutherland doesn’t turn her in?He knew they were farfetched, but his philosophy had paid off in the past and it seemed like a decent rule to follow.
So, maybe it meant wasting half a day, maybe it didn’t. It was impossible to tell. As long as the contract was still valid, the Raven intended to pursue the target.And the target was Jennifer Cameron. Her friend, Samantha, was just the most likely way of finding her again. He’d watched them for long enough to understand their friendship. Jennifer would make contact with Samantha as soon as she could, if she were able to.
He trailed her to the portals and blinked when she stepped through. The blink was his only outward indication of surprise. His uplink to PortaNet’s servers fed him all the data he needed. He’d learned to dissect the stream and identify the single portal of interest. Samantha had returned to Tweed Heads, but the name PortaNet had filed in its database didn’t match. It had changed, again. He frowned and thought, She has a chip selector.People called them many different things: multi-chip, identity selector, microchip switcher, and even freedom finder. Nobody had ever released a formal name for the illicit device. Merely carrying one was illegalandthe sentence was swift and just – implantation with a fresh microchip.
The Raven selected a portal near his target’s apartment, stepped inside the white circle, and pressed the button that would shift him to Tweed Heads. After the usual disorientating puff, a muggy blanket of humid air smothered him.
Damn you.The Raven hated the tropics. Tropical New South Wales was no exception. It made him sticky and he never showered while he was on a job, though it was tempting to break that self-imposed rule. What if they smell me coming?But that, he knew, was a desperate plea from his weak human mind. The disciplined computer would never beg. He snuffed the thought and found a bench to sit while electronically searching for a map of the area. He needed to find the best vantage to observe the apartment.
*
Outwardly, Dan was a mask of serenity, staring at the dotted white line on the highway that appeared to jump like a string of frogs as he sped past. He’d eased off the accelerator until they were travelling only ten percent above the legal limit.
The highway, Dan was amused to note, was in anappallingstate of disrepair. But upon further reflection, he wasn’t at all surprised. With fewer cars, there wasn’t enough money for the expensive maintenance.The Roads and Traffic Authority hadn’t laid any new roads since ’37, hardly surprising since it cost a million Pacific Dollars per kilometre. He had to swerve for an occasional pothole and use his imagination to picture the lane-markings in many places. It hasn’t been that long since I drove this way. Has it? He could remember a time when the Roads and Traffic Authority had at least kept the highway well maintained.
Part of his mind – the part that kept repeating everything was fine – was enjoying the ride. That part was delighted he’d found an excuse to drive again. He’d been dreaming of it for years. As many other motoring enthusiasts had claimed, ‘drive once and you’re hooked for life’.
But the other half of Dan’s inner thoughts were in turmoil, and they were the cause of the deepening scowl that crept across his brow. There’s something about her…He couldn’t put his finger on it.He wanted to turn and stare. No, don’t do that, bounty hunters don’t stare at their targets.So he battled the overpowering urge and his neck muscles locked with the clash.
Occasionally something profound gnawed at the edge of Dan’s consciousness. It didn’t happen often, and he could never fathom or explain it. It irked him because he prided himself on logic and his ability to rationalise all feelings and decisions. Intuition?He clamped mercilessly down on the word. That was Katherine’s arena.
That’s it! She reminds you of Katherine, Danny-boy.He mentally slapped the offending voice before yielding to his need to look at her. In doing so, he hoped to silence such conjectures forever. But, contrary to his desire, looking at her just amplified the unwanted feeling. He turned back to face the road and gripped the wheel with his vice-like hands.
Why do they want her?He wished he knew. He’d never asked any of his targets before. That, he considered, was particularly unprofessional. Never get involved.It was a rule written in the blood of less careful hunters. But now his desire to know clashed with the good sense of remaining impersonal. Their titanic conflict warred on his face, narrowing his eyes to icy slits and rippling his jaw muscles under his skin.
Desire won. “What are you wanted for?”
It shook Jen from her silence but magnified the venom lacing her words. “Don’t you know?”
Dan never allowed his targets’ emotions to provoke a reaction, and he never got angry. He prided himself onit. This time was no exception; he wouldn’t let her draw him into an argument. His reply was calm and honest. “No. We’re never told.”
Jen coughed a laugh and pierced him with a furious look. It reminded him of Katherine on the occasions when he came home late after forgetting to call.
“Don’t you ever wonder whyyou’re ruining peoples’ lives? Or taking life from them?”
He didn’t think that was an appropriate moment to tell her he’d never killed anyone. At least, not recently.He shivered at the dark memory that was boiling up from his past, and slammed the door of recollection shut. He already had plenty of nightmares to contend with. “Yes, sometimes. But it goes with the job. Sometimes it’s frustrating, other times I think it’s better I don’t know.”
“So what makes you interested now?”
Dan shrugged. “I was just curious. You know… what a young girl like you would’ve done to get into so much trouble. Not everyone has an elimination order attached to their sanction.” And not many survive long enough to reach an exclusive list.
“So are you going to kill me?”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because of the elimination order.”
Dan shook his head. “The WEF have only authorised your termination if you fail to co-operate.” He waved an absent hand. “The Raven fibs on his reports and uses the elimination order as an excuse. He just likes chaos and death.”
“Have you ever heard of Mike Cameron?”
Dan froze and mentally slapped a hand to his forehead. Of course! That’s why she looks familiar.“Yeah, the anti-globalisation protestor that was assassinated a few years back.”
He wasn’tjust an anti-globalisation protestor!Jen thought. But she said, “Then you understand why they want me.”
Mike Cameron first drew attention to himself in 1998 when he wore a Pepsi t-shirt to a Coca-Cola day organised by his high school. D
an remembered – he’d studied the enigmatic man while working for the New South Wales Police Department. The school had suspended Mike for his act of defiance and, at the age of 19, he embarked upon a career of activism. His tireless efforts unified the resistance against globalisation, corporatism and the present form of capitalism. Dan recalled that Mike’s real activist ambitions had only materialised during the great depression of 2012, which had left him with little choice. In 2039 he became the central voice for what people knew simply as ‘the opposition’, and he used his influence to try to force a conscience upon the corporations that ruled the failing democracies of the world. But in 2059, the same year that microchipping became mandatory, Mike Cameron and most of his immediate followers were assassinated in a wave of violence and terror that left the opposition fragmented and leaderless. Then the corporate behemoths drove the final nail into the opposition’s coffin when they privatised project Echelon and used it to enforce the law with rigid oppression. Since the WEF classified activism as a form of terrorism, activists could expect severe penalties if caught. So activism went underground. But with no meaningful way of communicating, and therefore no possible way of co-ordinating large-scale protests or demonstrations, the splintered groups gradually faded from corporate radar. And the world quietened with the opposition’s demise. A few recalcitrant groups who thought they were clever for vandalising corporate property in the dead of night were all that was left of the once mighty resistance. But those groups were small, pathetic. Nobody considered them a serious threat to corporate control, and nobody bothered dismantling them. It was more economical to let Echelon pluck them off one by one.
And now it was Jen’s turn.
Dan recalled Mike Cameron’s assassination with a clarity that came from being personally involved. He distantly wondered whether Jen recognised him the way his unconscious had flirted with his memory of her. Probably not.He’d changed since 2059. I look different. And besides, why should she have taken note of me? She’d probably remember the prosecutor, the judge and the defendant… but not the cop who caught the assassin.He’d broken the unwritten rules on that case and thinking about it made the corners of his lips curl. The case had been a designation-52, a UniForce case, which meant cops weren’t supposed to touch it. Dan hated the way that worked. Most cops did. UniForce acknowledged they were breaking the law, but nobody lifted a finger to stop them because of their political influence. Well…Dan clucked his tongue in his mouth. He remembered his Superintendent, his partner, and even his wife had warned him away. Katherine had begged him to forget about the case after she’d watched him pace their bedroom like a caged beast. But Dan knew there were some things he simply couldn’t ignore if he ever hoped to appease his ravenous conscience. So, despite the hellish 3am phone calls targeted to break his resolve, he pored over the case for seven weeks and tracked, then apprehended the assailant.
The bastard had turned out to be a UniForce operative. And boy was he pissed when I caught him.Dan didn’t enjoy thinking about it. The assassin wasstill a free man after UniForce bought a gaggle of lawyers and intimidated a handful of judges to protect the sensitive information in his head.
“You’re following in your grandfather’s footsteps?” Dan thought it was a particularly stupid thing to ask but nothing else came to mind and he wanted to smooth over the uneasy tension that’d settled in the car.
She mumbled something softly. Or perhaps it wasn’t a mumble. Perhaps it was her words fighting against the inward rush of highway air whistling past Dan’s shattered window. “Sorry, what was that?”
“I said I can’t.” Jen raised her voice above the din of turbulent air. “Nobody can. Don’t you get it yet? They’ve fixed it so that nobody can take his place.”
Dan had never given it much consideration. He’d always been laid-back and gone with the flow. Like most Australians I suppose. He’d never wanted to demonstrate against the corporations whose presence dominated all aspects of human life. He’dcertainlynever wanted to incite others to join a foolhardy crusade that was doomed to failure.
But now he wasstarting to think.
And he didn’t particularly enjoy the picture his mind was painting.
I’ve joined the oppressors.Part of him, the part that was still capable of feeling compassion, felt disgusted and gritty. He knew he was a cog in the massive engine that maintained the status quo, a tiny part of a machine that was so enormous he wasn’t sure whether he could fully comprehend its power. And, blissfully, he was unaware of the sacrifice it would take to halt the machine’s advance. Oh God…A stricken expression entered his otherwise composed demeanour. What would Katherine think?Even though she was gone, Dan was still mindful of her opinions and reactions. In that way, she was a powerful force in his life.
“I’m not a terrorist you know,” Jen said. She looked as if she was starting to relax, or perhaps she was just becoming resigned to her fate – whatever that might be.
“I never assumed you were.”
“But that’s the charge I’m probably facing,” she retorted. She wasn’t directing her anger at him, but she didn’t have a definite object to target. She was simply angry at ‘the system’. “I mean, technically speaking, I am a terrorist. That’s how scared they were of activists, they bundled the opposition in with the people who blew up planes and bombed embassies. Don’t you think that’s a little extreme?”
Dan knew she’d backed him into a corner. How could he disagree with that sort of logic? “Yes, I suppose it is.”
“Well I haven’t done any of that. I’d never touched a gun until today. I’ve never handled explosives, and I’ve never threatened anybody. All I want is to share my point of view – the same way corporations share theirs. That’s it. And for that I’ll either be sent to prison for the rest of my productive life, or executed… which might be preferable.”
“Hmm,” Dan replied. It was all he could manage while so deep in thought.
But Jen was just getting started. “What makes them think their message is so important, so correct, that they have the right to silence all opposing voices?” She clenched her hands into fists and frowned with such intense frustration that it bordered on madness. “They think they’re so fucking righteous! Or maybe they’re scared they’re wrong. Maybe deep down they’re afraid that if someone draws attention to it, people will demand change.” Jen sneered. “They’re terrified of change, I know that. But is it really worth killing for? They’ve killed so many already. They killed my grandfather. They killed his friends and colleagues. I’m sure that Raven freak has killed people. And how about you? Mr Daniel Sutherland?”
“It’s just Dan.”
“Okay. How many people have you killed, Just Dan?”
“I’ve never killed for UniForce.”
“Ha!” But Jen stopped her ridicule short when she saw the truth scrawled on his face. Although it was a guarded answer, she believed it. “Okay, well maybe you haven’t. But I’m sure you have friends who’ve killed for their corporate masters.”
“No. I have no friends.”
“Jesus, who are you? No friends? Sheesh!” But, again, she saw the truth on his face and caught a glimpse of his pain searing just beneath the surface. She softened her tone and said, “I’m sorry.”
Dan faked a smile; it looked strained. “That’s okay.”
“Hasn’t a company ever fucked you over?” Jen asked, pleading her case. She saw him as her judge, jury and executioner – if he so chose.
Dan nodded. “As a matter of fact, yes.” UniForce. Every time they sell my exclusive lists to the Raven.
“And did you do anything about it?” She eyed him curiously, wondering what other gems she’d glean from his expression. But Dan had erected his stony mask again, so she saw nothing. Yet she’d glimpsed something, twice, so she knew he had emotions. And that was good. Maybe I can still get out of this.
“No, I can’t-”
“There!” she exclaimed, triumphantly cutting him off. Then she smile
d and added, “You see? They have all the power. They hold all the cards. You’re just living off scraps. When one of them fucks you over there’s nothing you can do. You just accept it and go on. And thatis the world my grandfather was fighting to change.”
It was starting to make sense.But just as reason dawned, Dan felt as though an ocean of guilt was tossing him around like a tiny cork. Were my other targets the same? Am I just a corporate tool? Is apprehending these people really the right thing to do? For the first time since Katherine’s death, he wondered whether he’d be proud of his work when he met his almighty maker. If such a thing exists.The jury was still out on that issue. His microchip read ‘agnostic’ in the field reserved for religion. He wanted to believe. He’d wanted so desperately to believe in an afterlife since Katherine’s death. But how could he console the notion of a god with what was happening in the world? It was the same everywhere, droves of ex-believers were abandoning the world’s major religions and flocking to Xantex prescription houses instead. Why not? It was a faster fix than religion and didn’t require any painful soul-searching. Besides, Xantex had better commercials.
He crammed his chaotic thoughts behind the already-straining doors of mental discipline and refocused on his immediate concerns. What am I going to do with her?He found it curious – Jennifer Cameron was the first person he’d apprehended from his new list and he was thinking about letting her go. How the hell did that happen?At this rate he was going to lose a fortune. Yet, somehow, the importance of turning a profit was quickly losing its significance. What’s the point?He desperately needed something fresh in his life, some kind of purpose other than being a capitalist drone. What’s the point of having money if I have to sell my soul?The maths on that just didn’t add up.
Dan risked another look. She’s pretty.She did remind him of Katherine, no matter what he tried to tell himself. Not her looks, Katherine was taller and heavier and had a cute little gap between her front teeth. Yet there was something in the way Jen held herself, the way she spoke and the things she said. It pained him a little.
