But it wasn’t. She knew that now.
Maybe she should see all the cities, and work to save them all. Every one. She had heard Chicago had a great wall around the downtown, that Salt Lake City had the best engineering anywhere, that almost every building had been redone without the weird sentimental history that kept Seacouver a contrast.
Adam’s hand plucked at her sleeve, and she turned to be introduced to the junior ambassador from Salt Lake City, an older woman with gray hair, bright eyes, and a blue kimono that draped over a slightly plump body. Marie Severson. Coryn tried to impress the name, the face, into her memory. Politicians did that. Leaders did that.
The introductions continued, the effort quickly reminding her of the Ambassador’s Ball, even though the only music was live piano from a single woman playing in the corner, and the dress was at least one notch down. Fancy, but with a serious edge the ball had lacked.
The security expert from Portland took Adam away from her for a private conversation, and Coryn looked for Imke. She couldn’t remember meeting anyone from Chicago in the last hour, although she’d been listening for that.
She slid carefully around small knots of people deep in conversation, grateful that no one stopped her. After twenty minutes, she felt like she’d seen the whole vast floor, and passed all of the artfully arranged tables, which had flowers in the middle and food arranged all around in small colored-glass bowls.
She wasn’t hungry, but wandering around introducing herself to strangers had become wearying. She found a chair with a view of the city and sat, grateful for a few minutes respite from the crowd. A hand grazed her shoulder. She looked up and behind to see that Adam had found her, and that he had Imke in tow. He looked a little quizzical. “Imke here seems to think you’ll be sitting by them. They’re calling us to dinner.”
Coryn smiled and stood up, straightening her shirt. She caught a mischievous look in Imke’s eyes and returned it with a smile that seemed to come from her belly. “Why yes, I think that could have been arranged.”
Adam gave her a look that might be confusion, or might be hurt. She steeled herself against it. He could always sit on her other side if he wanted.
She followed Imke in, admiring the way they moved, and the easy, flowing black robe they had chosen. Imke’s hair jewels were almost the same as yesterday, only all in white and gold.
It turned out there was not one table, but four. The current mayor of Seacouver was at one side of the long head table, Julianna and Jake seated about five people away from him. Adam, Coryn, Imke, and about twenty others surrounded the table farthest from the decision-makers and closest to the doors.
The tables were set for fall, with yellow and red-orange leaves and great bulbous blue hydrangeas lording it over gold tablecloths and freshly made plates with the name of the occasion on them: Quarterly Dinner for Central and Northwest Cities. She laughed at the stuffiness of it, then paused. Why had they asked her to come?
Adam sat at one side, she and Imke far down the farther side.
Coryn leaned toward Imke, keeping her voice casual. “I thought you were playing tonight.”
“Doubtful.” They shrugged. “If I get out of here on time. We have two leads in the band because this happens.”
“Is your mayor here?”
“He flew in yesterday with news.”
“What news?”
Imke narrowed their eyes briefly and shook their head. Rather quickly, they leaned across the table and started introductions. Coryn took careful mental notes. It helped that she had met most of her tablemates in the first whirlwind moments when Adam introduced her around.
Luckily Adam and Imke both drew far more attention than she did. Both knew how to work a table so well that Coryn decided they wanted to be actual politicians in their secret hearts of hearts. That left Coryn free to listen to the small talk of big cities, which varied from conversations about what to do with surplus power to how to attract immigrants from each other. Surprisingly little of the talk was petty or even inconsequential.
Sitting next to Imke and not being able to touch them was tantalizing and a little frustrating, although twice she caught quick, smoky glances from the singer’s dark eyes. After the second one, she looked up to find Adam watching her. He raised an eyebrow, and she realized she couldn’t interpret the expression on his face. He seemed . . . intrigued.
Shortly after Coryn finished the one-bite each trio of pumpkin crème brûlées that made up dessert, Imke rose from the table and took her hand. Adam had stood as well, along with a tall woman who had been sitting beside him watching his every gesture as if she was dreaming his hands would touch her instead of the air.
A band began to tune up. The lead singer began talking people toward the dance floor.
The four of them walked right through the dance floor and through a door she hadn’t even seen, then through two more doors and up a flight of stairs onto a rooftop patio room fully enclosed in thick glass that silenced the city noise. The top third of every window was tinted a deep security gray. Guards stood watch, their backs pointedly toward the room. This still left a view almost as good as the one Coryn had admired on the way in.
Imke took her over to a tall black man with a wide smile that drew attention away from his wide shoulders. As soon as she saw him, Coryn recognized him as the mayor of Chicago. Imke stopped in front of him, and here it was harder to focus on his smile. He was one of the largest men Coryn had ever met. Tall, broad, and well-fed, although not fat. “Mayor Broadbridge,” Imke said, “I’d like to introduce you to a key board member of Julianna and Jake’s new foundation. This is Coryn Williams.”
Coryn grimaced at the way Imke made her sound far more important than she felt.
The mayor’s attention felt like a mountain looming over her, and she couldn’t tell if his reputation as a strong mayor or his physical presence was more intimidating. “Pleased to meet you,” he said, his deep, resonant voice pitched for her ears alone. “I’m always pleased to meet people whom my esteemed mentors know.”
Just then Julianna came up on her far side, a surprised smile flitting ever so briefly across her face.
Good. Coryn gave her a quiet nod and returned her attention to Mayor Broadbridge, aware that he’d just asked her a question about the foundation; she’d almost missed it.
She smiled and launched into the logistics of getting the permit, thankful that she’d met with Julianna and Jake and heard how the cities were—again—fighting the feds.
Imke pulled her to the side as people started to take seats at the table, and she sat between Imke and Adam in a row of vaguely comfortable seats at the back of the patio. Most of her view was obscured once she sat down, although the tops of buildings glowed with colorful patio lighting and the top of the curve of the Bridge of Stars was visible, it’s observation decks a comforting white light.
“We get to listen,” Adam whispered to her. “Don’t speak unless someone asks you a question. Take your notes mentally. If there’s anyone I—we—haven’t introduced you to, let me know.”
She sat back, working to take in the whole room without looking like a curious child.
The head table included Justin Arroya, the current mayor of Seacouver, Julianna, Jake, Mayor Broadbridge from Chicago, Susannah Biker—the tiny woman who was the new mayor of Portland Metro—and a taller woman whose name escaped Coryn but who came from Calgary. The gallery of watchers like herself was about twice that big, and mostly gathered in small groups that probably represented the cities.
Not one robot.
Very few of the people from the dinner outside had been included. Were they having their own meetings? Or still dancing while the important people talked?
The whole political thing seemed like its own dance. Blessing had described it that way. Thinking of him got her to sit down and pay attention.
Imke touched her knee briefly and whispered, “I’ll find you after the meeting.” They rose and moved over to join the Chicago delegat
ion.
Imke had said that she was important, or lucky, or something. That she was in a place and time that mattered. Not like the people in the middle of the room, of course, but who would have expected her to even get to see such a meeting? Drawing a deep breath, Coryn silently vowed to prove that she belonged here.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The high-powered meeting room appeared plain, but complex touches made it look classy. Every corner held vases full of flowers above small trays of appetizers. The scent of summer flowers felt at odds with the fall colors of the trees on nearby roofs.
Mayor Broadbridge towered over his colleagues even seated, and when he stood he looked like a giant. “Thank you all for coming. I’m sorry to meet like this, but there are dangers that must be communicated.”
He paused, letting everyone settle, and then said, “As always in these meetings, information is not to be shared outside of this room unless the mayors collectively choose to do so.” He glanced at the staff area, his gaze taking in Coryn, Adam, Imke, and everyone else as he paused to make his point. His attention turned to the collected presence of the mayors. “We are all under attack.”
Whispered conversations stilled.
“We are under attack,” he continued, “from Inside and Outside. Our systems are under attack. Our values are under attack. The planet remains under attack. This—” He paused, spreading his arms out, smiling. “This is not new. It is how we live. But this time, it is a coordinated and widespread attack. Seacouver and Portland Metro took the brunt of the first exploratory sorties. Some people died. Others were harmed. The cities continued, and they have stronger defenses.
“The next attacks will be fiercer. Some of our best analysts will tell you why they have concluded this. Please pay close attention.”
People sipped at drinks, shifted uneasily. A chair leg scraped across the floor. “First,” he said, “We will pledge our support to each other. This is our tradition, and this meeting may be the most important that I have ever called.”
He took a single slow breath. When his deep voice broke the silence, he spoke clearly and loudly. “I, Rufus Broadbridge, pledge to maintain a strong city, a just city, and a free city. I pledge to assist the mayors of other cities in the great Federation of North American Mayors to remain strong and free. I pledge the uninhibited flow of information, trade, safety, and security.”
Coryn had seen the words in a high school text. She’d even heard a recording of Julianna and Jake saying them. But she’d never heard them live, spoken by people in power.
They had force.
Justin Arroya stood next, dressed in a dark blue suit with his usually wild hair slicked down. Julianna and Jake stood beside him as he spoke, although they were silent. At first, it surprised her that they didn’t each speak the pledge, but then it dawned on her that they demonstrated unity by standing in support of the man who had replaced them in power.
Susannah Biker’s voice trembled as she spoke. Perhaps this was the first time she had said the words out loud. She hadn’t been running Portland Metro for long, and the pledge was not a part of governing a single city but a binding between cities.
When the woman from Calgary pledged, Coryn recognized her name from stories about a difficult election she almost lost. Helena Hall. She was nearly as tall as Mayor Broadbridge, thin almost to bony, with dark hair and eyes, pale skin, high cheekbones and a tattoo of a sun on the far side of her forehead, the rays shading down to her eyes. Her voice was far stronger than Susannah’s, and the last few words seemed to hang in the air as she completed the pact.
I pledge the free flow of information, trade, safety, and security.
Each time, Coryn felt the words shiver through her. She’d never thought about that before. The flow of these things. Information flowed, trade flowed, but safety and security? Perhaps. Systems connected inside of each city and between cities.
The cities had not made a mistake when they starved the land between them of any but the most basic connectivity. It strengthened them to have more capacity for information, computing, and communication.
Mayor Broadbridge drew her attention back to the table. “There are always dangers. But there is currently an unprecedented amount of coordination among our enemies.” He paused, looking around the room again, apparently a habit of his, a way of demanding attention. “We will share four primary dangers. These are threats to our systems, erosion of values, collecting forces, and the building and preparation of small armies.”
A few hands went up, but the Mayor held one of his large hands up, and the others fell.
“Please hear the speakers out. To begin, I’d like to call up one of my aides, Imke Boro, who will discuss the dangers to our systems. Imke has been working with staff here in Seacouver for the past few months, but they began their discovery at home in Chicago. They have much to tell us. Please listen carefully.”
Imke didn’t even glance at Coryn as they took the front of the room. They held themselves so upright they looked taller than they were, and they had the presence of mind to stand still a moment before starting. Wall screens lit up with a pale blue background and a timeline. The presentation data stream appeared on Adam’s slate, and he held it at an angle so Coryn could see.
Imke began. “The first alarming event was the ruthless murder of many Listeners.”
Which Coryn finally understood. Poor Liselle. Aspen had come to her from Liselle’s murder, and now he was out there again. She shivered.
“Next, Portland Metro and Seacouver both suffered successful attacks on external and internal infrastructure. In Portland Metro, the hackers sent in compromised ecobots, starting with a fairly simple attack. The primary purpose appears to have been testing whether or not Wilders and other NGO staff could be turned against the city.”
Coryn winced. Adam, who knew a little of her participation in that attack, put a hand on her knee. She kept her face still, staring at the slate.
Imke continued. “They followed this with a second attack, which included trained fighters and more severely compromised ecobots. This, again, took place mostly in Portland. At the same time—and this is significant when you think of the pledge that you all just spoke—at the same time they attacked Seacouver’s primary transportation and utility systems. A few people died immediately, and some less fortunate or more fragile people died because they couldn’t reach the medical care they needed. The water system in all of Seacouver was turned off by a delicate and effective hack, and restored only with Seacouver’s best programmers and the help of a number of cyber-war fighters who don’t even work for the city.”
And a few warriors who worked for Julianna. LeeAnne, Day, Blessing, and Pablo. The memory made Coryn smile.
“There were other heroes as well. Two sisters and Jake, who talked Seacouver’s people through the last hour or so. One of them is here, in this room.”
Imke pointed and all eyes shifted to Coryn.
Coryn fought down an absurd desire to wave.
Imke winked and turned back to the crowd. “I believe a far larger attack is planned.”
Those words drew everyone’s attention back to the screens. Adam’s hand finally slid away from her knee as he fiddled with his screen.
“All of our systems are connected. We have multiple safeguards and many ways to kill the connections from one city to another, one neighborhood to another, one street or even one household to another. But as we sever those connections, we lose information, we lose effectiveness, and we lose trust. If connections remain severed long enough, we lose the integrity of our systems. For example, if a sewer lift station is compromised and shut out of the system, it will revert to its most basic duties for some time. It will still pump sewage uphill and into the systems that take it to be treated. But if external conditions change, such as a comprise of any kind at the treatment plant, the lift station will not know that. It will continue to do the most basic part of its job until sewage begins to back up, and then it will stop taking mo
re.
“You can imagine the domino. All of our systems are that connected. The sewage system talks to the water system, since sewage get recycled back into the water system after it’s purified. It also talks to the parks maintenance systems, and from there to the robotic forces that do the harder work in the parks and to volunteers who earn their basic income weeding and planting.
“Misinformation can spread and do significant damage, and that misinformation can start with any connected system and go through all of the others.”
This seemed basic. But perhaps Imke was just making sure that everyone in the room shared the same understanding.
Imke stepped closer to the head table. “We have evidence that all of our cities have been compromised. This shows in small ways. Very small ways.”
Beside her, Adam smiled. It dawned on her that his surprise that Imke would choose to sit with her might have been jealousy of Coryn. What a tangle. If she could only see inside of people’s hearts.
Imke used Seacouver and Chicago systems to demonstrate a slight, broad, uptick in small compromises, quickly fixed. “Whoever did this—” They spread their arms wide and paused. “Whoever is orchestrating this knows the alarm thresholds of all of our infrastructure systems, and how to disturb them without causing a single human to notice.”
They stopped, the implications clear. Only programmers or artificial intelligences inside of the city could know that much.
Imke looked beautiful. Strong. Entirely at home on a stage. Coryn could barely tear her attention away from them.
Imke nodded. “This compromise is not limited to just the megacities, but includes smaller metro areas like Spokane. It includes Chicago as much as Seacouver and Portland Metro. I’m willing to bet that it includes Calgary.”
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