by Cody Sisco
Ozie shrugged. “They’re mobile and autonomous. It just takes a little reprogramming. They usually cluster over important population centers. A simple bit of coding, and they’ll adjust their orbits, increasing coverage here so that we can link processing capacities across the A.U.’s western nations. We’ll churn through the data, and then everything will go back to normal.”
“What are you doing with the data exactly?” Elena asked.
Ozie smirked and waggled a finger for Victor stay silent.
Victor smiled apologetically at Elena and shrugged. He said, “Ozie, we need to be realistic. The amount of processor time is gargantuan. It would take years on the fastest computer.”
Ozie smiled. “How much processor time?”
Victor calculated hastily. “Somewhere between four to six billion exaflop-hours.”
Ozie’s eyes widened, and his thin lips parted. “Whoa! That’s enough to plot a round trip to Mars for an entire botfleet.”
“What are you planning?” Elena’s eyes searched Victor’s face. Before he could answer, Ozie shushed him.
Ozie said, “Let me think.” A slow grin spread across his face. His eyeglasses flashed, reflecting the bluish image from a vidscreen on the wall. “We could chain the low orbiters together and get global coverage.”
Two people in ultra-pliable synthleather tracksuits passed slowly toward the back of the room. Victor flinched. He looked again. They weren’t his pursuers. But they could sneak up at any moment. “We need to talk about the people following me.”
Ozie nodded. “We’ll get to that. Hear me out first. Chaining the nodes is possible but risky. This kind of stunt is uncomfortably public. The Mesh reports would cover it; most governments would notice; every cybersecurity firm in the world would know. Actually, I’m not sure I can do it, and I’m sure I can’t do it alone. I’d need your help.”
Here it comes, Victor thought. I’ll bet he wants money. He leaned back and watched blobs of light in the ceiling chase each other, dozens of blue, green, and red trails flared in their wake. One blob caught the other in a spectacular crash that lit the entire room in a flame-yellow glow. Ozie had never had any qualms about asking Victor to pay for his tech schemes.
Ozie cleared his throat and pulled at his shirt collar. “It’s going to take a lot of resources. I need 100,000 AUD.”
Elena smirked. “Told you.” She laughed bitterly. “He wants your money. That’s the only reason he dragged you here. All this talk about your granfa and conspiracies is a lie.”
Victor looked carefully at Elena. The tension under her eyes, the curl of her lip, the way her nostrils flared. She was starting to buckle under the strain of running.
Ozie was manipulating Victor—yes, he was conspiracy nut, certainly—but Victor knew Ozie wasn’t greedy and they made a good team.
Victor placed his hand gently on Elena’s shoulder. “You said you wanted to help me, Elena. I trust Ozie. I admit we haven’t told you everything that’s going on. What we’re planning could help overturn the Classification System, or at least make sure its expansion isn’t driven by profit. Don’t worry. He’ll keep us safe.” Victor turned back to Ozie. “So what is the money for?”
“Equipment. Code. A few favors. It’s not cheap to move a fleet of satellites!”
Victor began calculating how much he would earn annually on the investments his granfa had left him. Was Ozie’s help worth three years of that income? He’d pay anything, do anything, to learn what had really happened to Granfa Jeff. “Agreed,” Victor said.
Elena rolled her eyes and said, “This has nothing to do with finding out who killed him. You know that, right?”
Victor said, “It’s all part of the same package: decoding the gene, figuring out what we are, why Granfa Jeff was killed, how people with MRS should be treated, opening the data egg—they’re all related.” He looked at Ozie and said, with a shade of doubt creeping into his voice, “At least we think they’re all related.”
Ozie said, “About decoding the gene: your program takes care of the processing, but we’re still going to need the Human Genome Initiative’s libraries of sequences in order to make the comparison with the BioScan data.”
“The HGI?” Elena’s eyes grew wide. “You are not planning to steal from the Institute! Tell me you’re not!”
Victor swept the room with his gaze. “I don’t see them lying around here. We need the libraries to filter the MRS genomes to find the right sequence.”
“Shocks, this is a bad idea!” Elena said.
“We do what we need to do,” Victor said.
Ozie smiled. The café’s lights reflected off his ivory teeth. “Victor, you’ve got the right attitude. All it’ll take is a data leech on one of HGI’s machines.” Ozie’s grin widened. “Think about it. What an opportunity! You’re going to steal from the King of Las Vegas.”
Chapter 26
Organized Western States
5 March 1991
Elena woke at the sound of a car door slamming. The room around her smelled of fake flowers, sweet, cloying, and artificial—probably an automated morning spritzer carrying a wake-up scent. These brainhacker types seemed to have no limits when it came to drugs.
Then she remembered. Stimsmoke, last night. It was only a puff from the waifish boy, Sebastian, before Victor had run into them, but it meant she’d fucked up again.
Victor entered with his bag and a wad of trash balled in his hand.
She sat up and blinked. “Spring cleaning?” she asked.
“Getting the car worked on. Now that we’re out of SeCa, they can retrofit it for automation.”
“How exciting,” Elena deadpanned. She rubbed her eyes. Her throat felt scratchy and dry. Stimsmoke would numb it, if she had any, but she knew she must not succumb to the temptation again. “I still don’t understand why you let that dweeb manipulate you.”
Victor looked up from the vial he was filling with herb dust, alcohol, and water. “We told you. He wants me to find the mirror resonance sequence. I want the data egg opened. We have a deal.”
“You trust him?” She lay back on the pillows, rubbing her throat.
Victor capped the vial and put it in his bag. “Not really. Truth is, I would probably help him anyway. He always dangles a carrot a little bit further. I can see him doing it. I should care that he’s manipulating me. But I’m certain he can help me find out what happened to Granfa Jeff. And in the meantime, if he can help other people like me, then I’m going to help him.”
“He’s going to bleed you dry.” Elena squinted. “I know you’re looking for the MRS gene, but I don’t understand why.”
Victor put his bag down. “The tests are run in a black box. We run the test, we get a result, but we never actually see the sequence. The reference file, the actual sequence of base pairs, is encrypted.” Victor sighed. “When I think of how much information is locked away in private databases . . . Ozie’s right, it’s a disgrace.”
Elena snorted. “How else would it be? Free information for everybody? His ideas are screwing with your head.”
“I’m not completely clueless. We’ve got the raw data now. I’m not going to give Ozie what he wants without getting something in return.” He picked up his bag. “I’ll be at the café after I take the car in.”
“I’ll come find you later,” she said.
After she dressed, Elena stepped outside, trying not to think about stimsmoke. She still hadn’t told him about Lucky and Bandit. Guilt was a knife jabbing her, especially after he’d been so understanding about the stims. After she’d moved to the R.O.T. and her life became a sad series of mistakes, keeping secrets, no matter how painful, always seemed easier than telling the truth. Why couldn’t she ever do the right thing at the right time?
Elena’s MeshBit chimed as she crossed the gravel parking lot, already feeling the day’s heat. She answered and heard Bandit’s voice.
“Runaway girl,” he said, “You should have been in touch yesterday.”
Elena grimaced. His voice sounded like fingernails dragged over concrete. She said, “I’ve been busy.”
“Where are you?”
Elena walked back to stand in the shade of the building. “We crossed the border.”
“I figured.”
She pulled the MeshBit from her ear and looked at it. Could they track it? She’d have to ask Ozie for help. She returned the MeshBit near her face. “Was that your van on the side of the road?”
Bandit grunted. “Maybe.”
Elena scanned her surroundings, a vast dirt plain with mountains to the west and desert to the east. She asked, “How did you know we were in the mountains?”
“Just stay in one place long enough for us to catch up. The border is closed today. Something to do with a security breach.”
Elena looked at the road leading to the café. So Ozie’s handiwork wasn’t undetectable. That didn’t bode well for Victor. “Who ran you off the road?”
“Didn’t get a good look. Thought it might have been you.”
“I’m not that great a driver,” she said. Things were getting complicated. If Lucky and Bandit were working for the Eastmores as they said, who was running them off the road? And what did that mean for her and Victor?
“What will happen to Victor when you catch up?” Elena asked.
“We’ll keep him safe. Take him back to SeCa.”
“He can’t go back if he’s being reclassified.”
Bandit’s breath whooshed through the speaker. “I’ll have to check on that.” He terminated the feed.
Elena crossed the road and found Victor talking with two mechanics outside the garage. She watched the mechanics inspect the driver’s console together, and one of them affixed a device to the steering panel. They got out of the car and moved out of the way. Victor’s car rolled forward into a repair bay, driverless. That technology would get him arrested if he used it in SeCa. The mechanics hooted, apparently excited for a new project.
“What are they going to do to it?” Elena asked. “Is it ready?”
One of the mechanics heard her and laughed. “Not nearly,” he said, running his hand along the car’s rear left fin. “We got to restore the automation protocols, add transponders, update the driving algorithm. Special package per Ozie’s request.”
“They need all night to do the work,” Victor told her. “We’ll leave in the morning.”
Elena turned toward Victor and grabbed his shoulder. “This plan you’ve cooked up: it’s a horrible idea. We should stay a few more days at least. You need to rest up.”
He shrugged out of her grip. “We leave when it’s ready.” Victor authorized payment for the work on his car and walked outside.
She followed, cleared a lump from her throat, and said, “We can’t leave.”
Victor paused, glancing back, and said, “We are. At least, I am. Stay here if you want.” He turned and walked toward the café.
She trotted after him. “Ozie’s using you. If you really want to find out what happened to your granfa, your best chance is to go back to SeCa and show the evidence to the police.”
Victor wheeled around. “I’d be reclassified in a heartbeat. You know that.”
“Maybe not,” she said. “Your family could help. You’re an Eastmore, after all.”
“I’m going, Elena. Make up your mind before tomorrow.”
She watched him enter the café. He was spinning out of control. How long before he did something he’d regret? But there weren’t any good options. Going back could get him locked up. Staying here wasn’t viable; Ozie was roping him into serious crimes—messing with the King of Las Vegas was a stupid idea. She helped get him into this mess. She had to find a way out. And, she finally admitted to herself, she needed help.
Elena called Linda Eastmore, who answered on the third tone.
“Where is Victor?” Linda demanded. “What have you done with him?”
Elena bristled. Linda hadn’t returned her calls for several days, and now she wanted answers? “He’s fine. We’re—we’re in the O.W.S.”
“I hired you to keep him safe, not go for a joyride.”
Elena straightened. She was doing her best to navigate rough waters. Linda should give her some credit. “Believe me, it’s hardly a joyride. Ms. Eastmore, I need to talk to you about his reclassification.”
“You know they found my father-in-law’s grave desecrated? If Victor had something to do with this, I’m holding you responsible. I asked you to help him manage his condition, not send him off the rails. If you have—”
“Ma’am!” Elena interrupted. “I’m trying my best, but he doesn’t want to go home. He’s worried about his reclassification. We need to know if he can come back to his old life or not.”
“It’s pending.” Linda Eastmore sighed. “Apparently the doctor he was assigned wants to rule him a Class Two, but we’re fighting it. It would help if Victor were here. We can’t keep dodging the Health Board’s inquiries, and they could ask him to come in again any day now. What are we supposed to say? He took a long holiday?” A loud banging sound made Elena hold the MeshBit away from her ear. “I should have known better than to trust you. How could I have thought an addict would be a reliable companion for my son?”
“Is that why you hired those other two to watch him?” Elena asked.
“What other two?” Linda snapped.
“Lucky and Bandit. When Victor visited the herbalist, they took her—”
“What herbalist?” Elena looked at her MeshBit. Was Linda being deliberately rude? Why would she pretend not to know what Elena was talking about? Elena said, “He found a woman in Little Asia to help him. Haven’t they told you?”
“Haven’t who told me what? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Lucky and Bandit,” Elena snapped.
“You say those words like they should mean something to me.”
Elena felt her insides freeze. Linda hadn’t hired them. They’d been watching Victor, following him, trying to get their hands on him. And Elena had been helping them.
“Elena, I expect you to return Victor to—”
Elena terminated the feed. She cupped a hand to her forehead. How could she have been so naive? Now Lucky and Bandit were on their way here. She had to find Victor. They had to go.
***
Victor smiled to himself, leaning back in his chair. Ozie had set Victor up at a computer terminal in a private room at the café with large portraits of dogs dressed in ball gowns and suits hanging from the wall. The Bose-Drive had already been copied to the computer’s archives, including both the genomic records and the analytical engine that Victor used in his everyday work.
Ozie was on the other side of the room, peering at vidscreens and tapping on his type-pad.
Everything was easier now that he’d decided to go along with Ozie’s plan. Someone else could call the shots, and he could focus on what he did best: computational genomic analysis. It helped that the tinctures were working. With Personil purged from his system, the herbs coursed through his body, spreading dozens of biological compounds throughout his cells, changing the neurochemistry in his brain, and subtly, steadily coaxing him toward homeostasis. Knowing the data egg constantly nudged him in the right direction also helped, as had an hour meditating with the help of one of Ozie’s brain caps.
Victor knew he should call his family and let them know he was okay. He should talk to Karine and ask her again about the expansion of the Classification system. Instead, he threw himself into his work.
Elena busted into the room, yelling his name. “We’ve got to go!” She stomped over to Ozie and slammed her MeshBit on the table. “Make sure no one can trace this.”
Victor looked up from the screen. Elena’s eyes were wide, and her hands trembled. She was using stims again, he was sure of it. She just had to make it though one more day, and then they’d leave and she’d be safe from temptation.
“We will,” Victor said smoothly. “Tomorro
w morning.”
Ozie started futzing with her MeshBit.
“We have to leave now!” she said in a shaking voice.
He raised his eyebrows. “I thought you wanted to stay?” Why would she want to move on? “As soon as the car work is done, and I’ve programmed the analysis, we go get the genome libraries.”
Ozie looked at Victor over the rims of his glasses. “Are you sure you want to bring her along?”
Victor said, “I don’t see why not.”
Ozie glared at Elena and then returned his attention to her MeshBit.
Elena stood over Victor. “Can’t we leave now?”
Victor looked at the terminal in front of him. “I’m not done with the code. What’s got into you?” He doubted she would admit her stim use to him. Not after she’d crowed a few days ago about how proud she was to quit. “We’ll leave sooner if you stop interrupting me.”
Elena opened her mouth, but no words came out. She blinked and looked as if she might be tearing up.
Ozie stood, walked over, and patted Victor on the back. “Get to work on your program.” He walked to the door and held it open for Elena. “Let’s have a drink on me,” Ozie said. He escorted her out and closed the door behind him. The room was mercifully quiet.
Victor returned to his algorithm. Every line of code mattered when dealing with such vast sums of data. Processing the data in batches meant he had to take special care in how the data was broken and reassembled. Hours flew by.
During a test run on a tiny sliver of genome, Victor recorded a few messages to try out the untraceable messaging function on the Handy 1000 that Ozie had given him. He sent one message to Ma and Fa to let them know he was okay and that he was traveling up the Pacific Coast, intending to visit the First Nations of Canada. He tried not to think about what they made of his granfa’s defiled grave and his sudden absence. He sent another message to Circe, asking her to get in touch with him.
Victor squirmed, thinking about how much further across the line of good behavior he would advance by stealing the gene libraries from the Institute for Applied Biological Sciences. Thus far, he’d vandalized a grave and stolen from his family’s company, but this theft would be an altogether different thing—a monumental heist. Researchers had to be licensed and pay huge sums of money for access to a subset of the Human Genome Initiative’s data troves. Now Victor planned to siphon all of it, a grand crime that would make him infamous throughout the American Union if he were caught.
