Alt.History 102 (The Future Chronicles)

by Samuel Peralta

  “He said you could help me find some information,” I said.

  “Yeah I know what he said. But what he said didn’t make a lick of sense. What is it you want exactly?”

  “Bannister went through a training program to become a doctor. I’m just trying to find out how that process works.”

  “You got a query?” he asked.

  I had no idea what he meant.

  “What’s your query?” he asked.

  “I don’t know quite what you mean,” I said. “I’m not familiar with how your business works.”

  “Well I can’t do the thinking for you, slick,” he said. “Bannister told me to give you whatever you wanted, but it sounds to me like you don’t have any idea what it is you want.”

  “What is a query?” I asked.

  At this, he finally looked up from his monitor. He looked at me and shook his head. “You want to know something in the computer, you do a query, see?”

  “Okay, here’s a query,” I said. I was guessing at what he was looking for. “How do you apply for a medical training program?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?” he asked.

  I had no idea what he meant. I nodded.

  He sighed and said, “Okay then,” stretching out the words. He shrugged and started typing.

  “Looks like you got about 64,000 pages matching that description. Any chance you want to narrow it down? Or I could just print them all out for you if you want to fetch a wheelbarrow.”

  “Can you just print me the first three?” I asked, only vaguely understanding what I was asking for.

  “I reckon I could do that, provided you read it elsewhere, get out of my hair, and let me get back to my real job.”

  Every conversation with Spivey was just like this one. I walked out with paper in my hand and a smile on my face, but clenching my teeth so hard my back hurt. Nevertheless, I went to visit him at every opportunity over the coming weeks.

  The pages he printed for me were each on some specific topic. Some were long and thorough. Some were just a few sentences. The first pages he gave me were not relevant at all, but they gave me some idea what I was looking for.

  Every time I went to Spivey, I got closer to the information I was looking for. Each page ended with citations to other pages. I never ran out of things to ask him for. Over time, I began to piece a story together.

  Here’s what I learned -

  There were maybe twenty companies that sponsored corporate tutoring programs. I expected them to specialize in diverse fields - medicine, law, engineering, aviation - but they didn’t. Every one of them was a computer company.

  The granddaddy of them all was the Kendrell Corporation, founded in the late 1960s by Grant Kendrell, who apparently is responsible for making computers what they are today. It was said that computers would have ceased to exist without his innovations. The literature on him is vague and reads like a sermon, but it would seem his innovations were primarily centered on making a lot of money for himself.

  He bought up most of the patent rights to anything computer related and kept them highly secretive. He sold computer-based services for top dollar, and this business model made the technology enticing to top minds of the time.

  They say he modernized education, which as best as I can tell means he outplayed the education industry on the business front. His computer-based training programs were faster and more thorough than the traditional schools that came before. Because the technology itself was new and exciting, he attracted the best talent.

  He offered his training programs cheap, covering up massive losses with the profits of his other services. The higher education industry crumbled, either going out of business or being folded into the Kendrell Corporation. Then, once all credible competition had been removed, the prices of his services grew exponentially, until the present day in which Bannister had to give away a piece of his soul to get into his chosen field.

  Tragically, Kendrell was murdered. But his company kept going strong, controlling over 80% of the higher education industry. They completely dominate the areas of medicine, finance, and (of course) computing. Their only competition is a handful of companies mimicking their business model.

  Bannister went through the Kendrell Corporation for his education. I found an advertisement that lists his career - neurosurgery - among fifty others under the medical sub-heading. His career, his fortune, his whole life - they all boil down to this one bullet point near the bottom of the second page of a promotional flier.

  Spivey worked for the Kendrell Corporation as well, on contract to Bannister. Everything I learned about the company, I learned from the company directly. They were so comfortable in their position that they apparently didn’t need to hide anything.

  I had to Spivey looking for a way into the world of the educated, the world where Bannister lived. By the time I left his office for the last time, I was no longer interested in a place at their table. I wanted to see into the kitchen.

  * * *

  I went to Roderick’s one morning to check on Hanna. The gash on her arm was healing nicely and the stitches seemed to be holding.

  “Thank you for helping her,” Roderick told me as we watched Hanna play. His attitude was sober and low key. “You did a good thing.”

  We didn’t speak any more of it. I told him what I’d learned from Spivey - computing, the Kendrell Corporation, education, all of it. He listened patiently, and at the end he was unmoved.

  He shrugged. “I remember a lot of that happening. Kendrell dying was real big news. They had a parade.”

  “Does it seem fair to you?” I asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “They have all this knowledge, all this technology, and they refuse to share it with anybody. They just horde it.”

  “I don’t know about fair,” he said. “It’s the way things are. What can you do about it?”

  “We take it back,” I said. “Kendrell uses their own people for most everything. But their computers are just hardware, equipment. How often do we see a container come through here with Kendrell printed on the side? I’ll give you two guesses what they’re moving around.”

  “What do you mean, ‘take it back’?” he asked. “It was never ours. You’re talking about stealing it.”

  I was surprised by his accusation. “Hardly,” I said. “Kendrell has tons of information. But they didn’t do any of the research. They didn’t develop any of the technology. They just took control of it. And then they shorted the supply to raise the price.”

  “That doesn’t give you any claim to it,” he said.

  “It’s not just about me. The Kendrell Corporation is keeping their technology from the whole world, and they’ve got no more claim to it than anyone else.”

  I don’t think he was convinced that my plan was ethical. But that didn’t stop him from asking, “What’s your plan, then? If you’re going through with this, we need to make sure you do it safe.”

  I explained the plan as far as I knew it myself. It was still a work in progress.

  At the Yard, we knew lots of people. I had only been there for a few years, and I’d worked with mechanics, engineers, navigators, accountants, salesmen, smugglers, and thieves. I knew a helicopter pilot. I knew security guards, deep sea divers, and cattle wranglers. I knew a computer operator and a neurosurgeon.

  Knowledge was out there. The Kendrell Corporation’s advantage wasn’t that they knew more than the rest of the world. It was only that they controlled the best way to organize and distribute what they knew.

  I bounced this idea off of Roderick, and he had this to say -

  “When I grew up there were no computers. People learned from each other. Most of what we know now we knew then. And I’m not as old as you think. There are a lot of us still around. You look, you’ll find them.”

  I asked, “If they’re out there, why aren’t they already out there teaching people?”

  “Because they’re old,” he said. “They’ve
already had their careers and now they’re retired. Your generation is younger, better equipped. And they have no reason to try to compete.”

  I was leading him through these questions. I already knew what he would say.

  “This is my point,” I said. “What if we made it easier for them? What if everybody had access to the same kind of tools the Kendrell Corporation does?”

  “Maybe,” he said. “The water is uncharted. But if you sell it right…. There’s not a lot of loyalty to the Kendrell Corporation out there. He didn’t get shot for no reason.”

  That was when the plan fully came together in my mind. I explained it to Roderick as it was occurring to me.

  “I’m not talking about stealing Kendrell’s information,” I said. “That would be too dangerous. We have no idea what safeguards they might have in place. I’m talking about learning how computers work so we can make our own, so we can spread knowledge we all already have. Is that stealing? Maybe. But it is no worse than what they’ve stolen from all of us.”

  He stroked his beard, beginning to puzzle together how it would all work. “The hardest part might be getting your hands on computer equipment. Security is tight. They track every machine.”

  “I’m going to talk to Bannister,” I said. “He’s been letting me use Spivey, but I don’t trust Spivey not to rat us out. Working for Kendrell keeps him wealthy. He’s got a vested interest in things staying as they are. I’m hoping Bannister will let me use the computer myself in off hours. Maybe a few shipments go missing. Happens all the time.”

  “I don’t think that’s wise,” he said. “Bannister isn’t your friend. He won’t help you if it puts himself at hazard.”

  He didn’t even let me protest. He knew exactly the argument I would make.

  “My daughter was dying,” he said. “I wasn’t thinking clearly. But I’m back to my senses now. You were right, that I should have taken Hanna to Bannister. But not for the reason you think.”

  I asked what he meant.

  “Here’s what happened,” he said. “Hanna got hurt running around the Yard. Bannister runs a business. When a little girl gets hurt on your job site, or dies, it’s bad for business. He didn’t help Hanna as any favor to you. He did it to protect himself.”

  * * *

  I wouldn’t say I ignored Roderick’s advice, but I didn’t follow it either. I decided he was too jaded to ever trust Bannister, and it would take more than patching up his daughter to convince him otherwise. He made a strong argument, though, so when I did pay Bannister a visit, I was careful.

  He greeted me at the door himself, smiled, shook my hand, put a hand on my shoulder, and showed me to his study. He offered me tea, and took one for himself. A servant brought them in along with a board with a few fancy cheeses.

  “How are things going with your research?” he asked me.

  I tried to begin on some common ground. Spivey - one thing everyone at the Yard agreed on was that nobody liked him. It was a safe conversation starter with anyone, even Bannister.

  “Slow but steady,” I said. “You know, the hardest part about working with Spivey is working with Spivey.”

  He chuckled politely. “That’s the truth,” he said. “Just remember to keep your questions simple. Be patient with him.”

  “Sometimes I think it would be easier if I didn’t have to involve him at all.”

  Bannister shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. Like it or not, he’s necessary.”

  “Why is that?” I asked. “If he can do it, there’s no reason any of us couldn’t learn how.”

  He didn’t stop to think. He already had an answer prepared for this question. “It’s for our own protection,” he said. “A computer is a dangerous thing.”

  “Dangerous how?” I asked.

  “Well, it’s like what I do. I studied medicine for a long time, under people who assured that I was getting quality information. Now, imagine if I stopped half way through and just started practicing medicine before I was ready. I wouldn’t be very good at it, would I? You wouldn’t want me to operate on you.”

  “You’re saying computers are the same way?”

  “Similar,” he said. “If too many people have access, there’s no way to regulate it. With no one regulating access, anyone could go looking up anything, learn half of what they need, and just make a mess of things. Would you feel safe in your crane if the people who designed it didn’t answer to anybody?”

  “Spivey has access,” I said. “And I wouldn’t trust him to do it if he had twenty years of study.”

  “Of course not. He’s a moron,” he said. He laughed, took a sip of his tea, and leaned in to finally arrive at his point. “But he’s regulated. It’s not him you’re trusting. It’s a whole infrastructure of people, from the executives all the way down to the technicians and operators. That structure is what keeps us safe from people who would use that information irresponsibly.”

  I wanted to argue, but it was beginning to dawn on me that Roderick had been right all along. I didn’t know if Bannister believed what he was saying, or if it had been fed to him during his tutelage, but he wasn’t going to be moved by anything I said. The harder I tried to convince him, the more I would expose my real motivation for asking.

  I took the conversation in another direction, asking questions about his training and his job and such. I gave him updates about Hanna. I finished my tea, and I left at what seemed a natural break in the conversation.

  * * *

  I decided not to use either Bannister or Spivey. Not directly. Spivey may have known computers but he didn’t know shipping. Every communication he received, he passed on to us, and everything he sent, he got from us. Most often he dealt with the foreman.

  I rarely spoke to the foreman, but Roderick knew him well. Roderick agreed to help, of course. He would have hidden bodies for me after I helped Hanna. How he persuaded the foreman, I don’t know, and I figured it best to keep it that way.

  Cargo of all kinds came through the Yard. We rarely cared what we were moving, but the manifests were available. It was too dangerous to keep tabs on every Kendrell crate that came through the Yard, but Kendrell did have competitors with comparable hardware. We rescheduled some deliveries, putting several crates of that hardware on one ship.

  We threw some other necessities on the ship, such as manufacturing and electrical equipment. The rest of the ship we filled with random valuable merchandise - appliances, expensive clothing, jewelry, razor blades, and the like. But none of those things were for our use.

  All this shuffling took some strange operations. We took containers off of ships, loaded them onto trains, only to immediately remove them from those trains and put it back onto ships. Containers stood in our staging area for days or weeks, strategically buried by other crates so that they would be missed during inventory. But, in the yard, everyone had his or her own job to do. No one stood back and watched the big picture. The only person who had any chance of seeing anything fishy was Spivey, and he wouldn’t have known what was normal and what was strange.

  Once all of our contraband was on the ship, we gave its route and manifest information to a friend of a friend of Roderick. Roderick’s contact - whose name I intentionally never knew - did a lot of legitimate business with the yard. He was a small time shipper who occasionally liked to do a little business on the side.

  Our unfortunate ship was the largest he ever took down. He dumped our crates on a quiet part of the shore late at night, and kept the rest of the valuables for himself. There was no killing. We gave him everything he needed to avoid it - ship specs, crew dossiers, defensive capabilities and procedures. They took the ship down clean.

  I went do the drop site alone. We’d made a semi with a flatbed trailer disappear from the Yard. Officially it was off site for repairs, but it was in perfect working order. It would have taken me three trips to move the three shipping containers. But, as I returned to the site after moving the second run, there were too many cars parked on the str
eet.

  I didn’t see anybody, but I had a hunch that something had gone wrong. Someone was on to me. I couldn’t guess what they might have known, so I took the rig somewhere out of view, hopped out, closed up the cab, and started the walk home on foot. I never went within two blocks of that shore again.

  * * *

  I went to work the next morning as normal, and one of Bannister’s security goons patted me on the shoulder from behind, just as I was about to make the climb into my crane. “Boss wants a word with you,” he said.

  He led me to an office building on property, one of the few I’d never set foot in. We walked past a room full of cubicles to the stairs, and down into the basement. I went willing. Bannister wasn’t the intimidating sort - or he hadn’t been up until that point.

  They sat me in a room with no windows, a steel table, and an absurdly bright spot light. There were maybe two people behind me, but I couldn’t see them. Bannister paced back and forth on the opposite side of the table, his hands clasped behind him, his eyes to the floor. He didn’t look at me the entire time.

  “I thought I was being generous,” he said. “Spivey’s services are expensive. I could have used them any number of ways, but I gave them to you because I thought you would use them well.”

  I couldn’t tell whether he actually knew what I had done, or if he was trying to lure me into a confession. I didn’t say anything.

  “You’ve endangered the business. If anyone finds out what happened, people will lose confidence in us and take their business elsewhere. What do you think happens to you and your coworkers if the Yard goes out of business?”

  I kept quiet. He looked to me for an answer, and when I gave none, he continued talking.

  “My hands are tied here. I can’t have you go back to work. I can’t risk that you’ll do something like this again. The things in your apartment are being boxed up as we speak. As soon as you have somewhere we can ship them, let us know and we will.”