Flight or Fight (The Out of Dodge Trilogy Book 1)

by Scott Bartlett

  Everything he’d said was true, achingly true, but it wasn’t the whole truth. Because for every bit of motivation provided by his resentment of FutureBrite, his love for Natalie provided an equal amount. He already knew what it would do to him to let Natalie be taken onto a prison barge while he remained here in Dodge. He could sense the shape of it, the crushing weight, and fighting it with every synapse and nerve in his body was as much an act of self-preservation as it was an act of love.

  The reason he didn’t tell Maria that was because he was afraid she would refuse to continue helping him. And because he loved her, too, Schrödinger help him.

  At last Anders emerged from the washroom, beaming with pride. “I’ve got it!” he said. “We’re looking for a web address!”

  “Obviously,” Carl said. “What were you doing in the washroom?”

  “Having a bowel movement. We’ve been looking for some sort of secret code, when what we want is in plain sight. Come on, I’ll show you!” The propagandist trundled into the TV room.

  “You were in the washroom for a half hour,” Maria said.

  “It was a long bowel movement, okay?” They could hear him playing Carl’s lifelog footage again and chuckling to himself. “Hurry, hurry. You’ll miss it.”

  When they joined him, he’d paused the feed on a freeze frame of Rudy’s face.

  “Look at that,” Anders said in a tone of wonderment.

  “What are we looking at?” Maria asked.

  “Check out the spot on his neck, just below the ear.”

  “Looks like a blemish to me.”

  “I don’t think so. Will I zoom in?”

  “This is your house,” Carl pointed out. “You can do what you want.”

  Anders did zoom in, and as the area beneath Rudy’s ear enlarged, Carl saw that Anders was right. The spot was resolving into a tattoo of text that looked very much like a URL. Finally, it grew big enough for them to read: “libertyequalityfraternity.info.”

  “Schrödinger,” Maria said. “I can’t believe it was that simple.”

  Anders hastily cleared some junk away from another wall, opening up a space large enough to accommodate a web browser, which he used to visit the website. It featured nothing but a blank text field.

  “This is it,” the great propagandist said, and now his voice was hushed, which somehow made him seem even more excited than before. “This is the moment.” The man gestured to the browser, and there was nothing understated about his movements. “Enter the code.”

  “Go on, Carl,” Maria said. “Enter it.”

  Unfortunately, he’d thrown out the paper bearing the code Rudy had given him, so they had to fast-forward Carl’s lifelog to when he’d opened the envelope. Glancing back and forth between the two screens, careful not to make a mistake, Carl entered the long string of characters.

  “Might take a while to load,” Anders said. “In fact, if it’s all two hundred thousand documents it could take days. They won’t have paid for a subscription to net neutrality. To do so would have alerted the authorities to the site’s existence, and they would have busted it open long ago.”

  “We don’t have days,” Maria said.

  But as soon as she finished talking the page did load, displaying a short paragraph of gibberish.

  “What’s this?” Anders said. “What’s this?”

  “Here.” Maria motioned for him to get out of the way and give her access. “Let me try decoding it with my encryption key.”

  That did it. Maria’s key—Maria’s key specifically—caused the cleartext to emerge, and Carl took a moment to marvel at the level of secrecy, coordination, anticipation, and even gambling it had taken for this moment to come together. That the originator of the message had correctly predicted that Maria would be here to decrypt it impressed him immensely, and left him feeling a little more reassured about who he was working with than he’d been before.

  Then he read the text. It didn’t provide a download link for the FutureBrite documents, nor did it discuss where they might be obtained. It didn’t even reference the documents. It merely said, “Tell the censor to meet me at the Air Earthport eight o’clock on Monday evening. I’ll be holding a Rubik’s cube.”

  “That’s in less than an hour,” Anders said. “You’d better get a move on, Carl.”

  “Me? It said for the censor to meet him. Who’s that?”

  “I think it’s you,” Maria said. “You do work at SafeTalk.”

  Carl’s mouth quirked. He’d never thought of himself as a censor before, though they were right, that was what he was. The word made him feel both soiled and powerful.

  “What the hell is a Rubik’s cube?” he said.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  People filled the Air Earthport terminal, milling about in a state of ecstasy and apprehension, waiting to be herded through security into the area where they’d wait to leave Dodge forever. Carl could tell the passengers-to-be from their friends and family members easily enough. The former behaved like guests at a boisterous party, the latter like mourners at a funeral. Who knew whether those staying would ever manage to cobble together the substantial savings necessary to reunite with their relations in the New World? This could be their final goodbye, so how could they pretend happiness with the very real possibility of becoming a geezer here in Dodge looming over their heads, or worse, of making a serious misstep and ending up on a prison barge?

  As for the passengers, they were immune to their loved ones’ melancholy. The prospect of having seen their last of Dodge—the last of this rapacious world where the playing field was tilted so that everything slid toward a salivating corporate maw—lit up their faces. The prospect of escape.

  For his part, Carl never expected to get the opportunity. He suspected that choosing self-sacrifice over self-interest, choosing to help his friends over shamefaced fleeing, had killed his chances of ever setting foot on an Air Earthplane.

  A glimpse of vibrant color caught his eye through the sea of swinging, shifting arms, and he strode toward it, ducking around the waiting Dodgians, determined not to let the rainbow cube escape him. When he drew close enough to identify its carrier he saw that it was Jim Ofvalour and gave an exasperated sigh.

  “Why couldn’t you just tell me to meet you here?” he hissed. “Why this business with the rubbish cube?”

  None of the joviality Jim had displayed at the FutureBrite office or over the phone was evident today. The man shot him a blistering glare, by which Carl was made to understand he should stop talking. Then Jim walked off into the crowd, and Carl could do nothing but follow, dodging around a rotund woman, before barely managing to avoid trampling a toddler. Jim navigated the crowd with a lithe grace, while Carl felt like a mallard caught in a washing machine.

  They became separated for a few panicked moments, and Carl caught up just in time to see that Jim had slipped inside the door that sat unadorned in the corner, which led out of the terminal and into the opaque section of the Air Earthport. The customer service station.

  The reps’ station was the last place into which Carl would have expected to be led. The act of entering the station was not inherently suspicious. He’d done so twice in recent months, after all. But given the reason he was here, to obtain hundreds of thousands of stolen documents, he didn’t feel eager to enter a place where he could expect to encounter hundreds of reps. Nor did he feel confident in his ability to behave normally under those circumstances. He was pretty sure if he went in there he would piss himself.

  He’d seen the value in meeting at the Air Earthport. Who would expect a historic transfer of illegal documents to take place in plain sight, right under the nose of the authorities? At the epicenter of their power, no less? But to actually go inside the rep station to do it seemed foolhardy. It felt like a trap.

  But if Jim was working with the reps, what could be gained from trapping Carl in this manner? The authorities had access to his location at all times, and if they’d wanted to arrest him they cou
ld have done so quickly and efficiently.

  And anyway, when it came down to it, Carl had no choice but to follow Jim. To do otherwise would involve returning to a life of helping corporations exploit children. And he refused to do that anymore.

  When he opened the door and saw Jim waiting for him up ahead where the hallway curved out of sight, he could tell the man was not happy with the amount of time Carl had taken to weigh the pros and cons. Carl shrugged, and walked toward him. Jim whirled around and strode out of sight, his stomping footsteps echoing down the hall and probably creating more noise than was necessary.

  The number of hallways taken and corners turned and stairs descended ensured Carl would never be able to find his way out on his own. He hoped that wasn’t the point. At last he came to an intersection of two hallways and spied Jim to his left, waiting impatiently outside an office door. They made eye contact, and Jim disappeared inside, prompting Carl to follow. The plaque on the door read “Spenser.”

  “Carl,” the rep said after motioning for him to close the door behind him. Spenser spoke as though welcoming Carl to a sumptuous banquet attended only by corporate executives. Carl almost expected to be offered a cigar at any moment. “On a scale from one to ten, how ready do you feel to scrub Dodge of corporate corruption?”

  Carl looked at Jim, who stood rigid near Spenser’s desk, his lips a thin line. Then he looked at Spenser again.

  “You can speak freely here, Carl,” the rep said. “One of the only places in Dodge where total privacy can be enjoyed.”

  “You’re helping us?”

  “Obviously. Did you think any kind of resistance movement could exist without the help of a rep?” Spenser smirked. “You need someone to watch over you, to help you hide, to cover it up when you make a mess of things. The reps hold all the power in Dodge. Nothing happens without our participation and oversight.”

  An itch made its home on Carl’s forehead, and he resisted the urge to scratch it. This was a strange way for a revolutionary to talk. From the expression on Jim’s face, Carl thought he probably agreed.

  “So you’re willing to give up that power, then?” Carl said. “I mean, that’s what a revolution would entail.”

  “Well,” Spenser said, “I expect a new regime would reward me for my help.” He snuck a glance at Jim, who continued to stare stoically at the opposite wall.

  “Until then, I’d dial the grandiosity down a bit.”

  The rep’s jeering air of superiority turned to anger. “Who are you to talk that way to me, Intoever?”

  “I’m clearly somewhat important, given all the effort that’s gone into getting me here. Evidently you have some need of me.”

  The color of the diminutive man’s face now matched that of his hair, and his glare said everything that needed to be said on the subject of his attitude toward Carl at that moment.

  Carl went on. “If I’m correct that we stand in the presence of the FutureBrite leaker—am I correct?” Jim Ofvalour nodded. “Yes. Then, Jim has taken an incredible personal risk in an effort to help hundreds of thousands of exploited children with no ability to help themselves. And I just think that for you to waste time bragging about power is grossly inappropriate in the face of such a brave act.”

  Jim’s expression didn’t change, but his posture shifted slightly, enough that Carl perceived the dynamics of the room had changed. Spenser opened his mouth, but Carl forestalled whatever bullshit he’d been about to put forth with a raised hand. “Enough. We’re all united under a common cause, and that’s what matters right now. Why have you brought me here?”

  It was Jim who answered, which gave Carl relief. “You are central to our mission, and have been for years. This scheme involving the FutureBrite documents wasn’t something I cooked up overnight by myself. Yes, I took on the most risk by stealing them, but it’s the result of years of effort by a network of people. You’ve been a part of that network for a long time, even if you didn’t know it until now.”

  “How could I be part of a network I knew nothing about?”

  “By way of your wife. There’s no gentle way to put this. Until now you’ve been an unwitting asset to our cause, managed and exploited by Maria. Quite deftly, I might add. She gamed the algorithms of the dating app where you met so that it would promote her to you, to the exclusion of all other potential matches. You may recall that she’s the one who encouraged you to apply to for a contract at SafeTalk, and through you she gained invaluable intelligence about their systems. Your aptitude allowed you to navigate the corporate world with ease, in whatever direction Maria pointed you in.”

  “I’ve been a dupe, in other words.”

  “Yes. But an amiable one, if it’s any consolation. We’re quite fond of you in the resistance.” Jim glanced at Spenser. “For the most part.”

  “Tell me what you want me to do.”

  “I will, and in doing so I may be able to offer you some welcome news.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Maria’s relations with Gregory Stronger were strategic. She never had any affection for him. Reviled him, in fact. She used him to get the access codes for SafeTalk’s network, which now gives us control over your FutureBrite blog. A valuable asset. Maria used Stronger, and nothing more. Does that make you feel any better?”

  Carl sniffed. “With respect, it’s none of your business how it makes me feel.” He did feel glad to hear it, though. Very glad. “Tell me the plan.”

  “It’s simple. You have a lot of goodwill built up at SafeTalk, and, more importantly, with Xavier Ofvalour. We have this from reliable sources. FutureBrite stock has prospered immensely from your efforts, and Xavier should be extremely receptive to any ideas you might have about making it prosper even further.”

  “Such as?”

  “A press conference. To sum up your report’s pandering conclusions, and to reemphasize to the public just how essential FutureBrite is to the smooth functioning of the markets. To make sure all future criticism is shouted down by a chorus of self-righteous voices. To make sure dissent is well and truly stigmatized.”

  “That’s doesn’t sound good for us,” Carl said, being purposefully obtuse. Up till this point he’d been standing, but now he took a seat, feeling slightly giddy. The tension-inducing situation he found himself in, the consequences if things went wrong, or even if they went right…it was all becoming a bit much for him, and suddenly he felt like laughing himself hoarse.

  “You and Xavier will give your presentation live,” Jim went on. “It’s important you convince him to do it live, and he’ll go with it, because no one does anything live anymore, and it will make this a must-see event. Xavier Ofvalour, appearing live to all of Dodge? No one will miss it. Meanwhile, on our end, we’ll publish some of the leaked documents on SafeTalk’s own blog, in place of the posts you wrote. When you get to the part of the presentation where you’re supposed to showcase your first post, you’ll be showcasing FutureBrite’s criminal activity instead. And we’ll continue leaking new documents through the weeks and months ahead.”

  “Sounds great. But it won’t work.”

  Jim frowned. “Why not?”

  “SafeTalk will clamp down on the posts straight away, even if they are coming from their own blog. They won’t let them spread. Word will never get out.”

  “That’s where we’ll need your help again. When you go into work tomorrow you’ll give Anders’s geezer remote access to your workstation, which he’ll use to compromise SafeTalk’s systems long enough for everyone in Dodge to learn about the leaks. After that, there will be no stopping us.”

  It didn’t surprise him at all that Suckeggs was a willing member of the resistance. Other than the youth, geezers made up Dodge’s most disenfranchised demographic. Their LifeRanks languished at the bottom of the leaderboards, and they were looked on by everyone as failures. The chance to use long-honed technical skills, which were the only upside of being a geezer, to cause pain for one of Dodge’s most corrupt corporations wou
ld likely give Suckeggs great pleasure.

  “All right,” Carl said. “I’ll do it. On one condition.”

  “Don’t presume to make demands of us,” Spenser growled. “We already know you have plenty to gain from all this.”

  “I expect to end up on a prison barge,” Carl said, meeting the rep’s stare with a level gaze. “No matter how this ends. But your whole operation depends on me. So I will make one stipulation. I want a copy of all the documents, right now, before I leave this room or everything’s off.”

  “Why?” Jim said.

  “Because I don’t trust him,” Carl said, jabbing a finger at Spenser. “And I don’t believe your actions have truly gone as undetected as you think they have. Nothing gets past the watchers, in my experience, and I want a backup plan in case the whole thing falls apart. I want my own copy of the documents, and I want them now.”

  Spenser seemed tense enough to flip his desk over at any moment, but Carl didn’t bother looking at the rep right now. He held Jim Ofvalour’s gaze instead, and Jim held his.

  After a long time, Jim turned slowly to face the rep. “Do you have the ability to completely disconnect your office from the net?”

  “Yeah,” Spenser spat.

  Jim fished two data sticks out of his pocket. Before now, Carl had only seen three in his entire life.

  “One of these is empty, and the other contains the documents. Copy them over then erase every trace of them from your system.”

  When it was done, Carl accepted the stick from Jim, and its lightness belied its import. Carl had just joined Jim as the biggest threat to the markets in all of Dodge.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Carl felt more than a little nervous upon returning to work at the Youth Dignity department. Abject terror may have gotten a little closer to what he was experiencing as he entered SafeTalk’s double doors and made his way up to the department he still headed.