This quasi-hermit lifestyle suited his needs most of the time, but when a need arose to contact another person he found his own restrictions problematic. The odds of being able to find someone who could give him some understanding of his strange sleep problem, without hiring a medoc, which meant having his information loaded into and scrutinized within a variety of government systems, was extremely low. That he was even considering reaching out to someone showed that he was getting desperate for answers.
Anhukarr tried not to think about his failure to get answers the way he normally did, with careful research throughout the interconnected networks both public and private. That failure didn't make his sleep problem worse, but it certainly worsened his mood.
After eating a nourishing, if rather bland, meal to reenergize himself, Anhukarr activated his work board and triggered several scripts that would give him succinct updates to various things he already had in motion. He skimmed over the results and was glad to see that his unexpected absence from his projects had not created any particular problems. The list of pending tasks, however, was annoyingly long.
"Well," he mused softly, "it looks like the important bits are in place. Now it is time to demonstrate to the authorities that I'm not playing games, and at the same time get rid of one Zyrlan Kottes. Daring to suggest that he is me, or that we are even on the same level of intellect and political thought, was a mistake he never expected to be fatal. Fool!"
Once again, with the fluid motions that underscored how Anhukarr was fully immersed in his task and only barely aware of his surroundings, he launched into his next attack. This would be the first that would end up with people dying, but the thought of that did not slow him down. Scripts were triggered, defenses were breached, servers were crashed or rebooted at optimal times. As the effects of his actions triggered fear and alarms in the building where Kottes was held, the moment of executing the other man drew near.
"Video, I want a video feed, it's only right to see the doomed, to be present however I can for his execution," Anhukarr said without realizing that he had spoken aloud.
Three more taps on his work board and a rectangle appeared. An instant later it displayed a silent video stream from the surveillance camera in the jail cell where Kottes was now looking around wildly. Anhukarr could see a faint flashing that shone into the room through the small communication window, and when Kottes held his hands to his ears it confirmed for Anhukarr what he already assumed, that the building was filled with deafening noise from the sirens that he had reprogrammed.
Anhukarr was mildly surprised to see that there were two other men in the cell, but it didn't change his plans. Perhaps they were innocent, or perhaps they deserved to be incarcerated. Either way, sometimes those who weren't the target had to suffer to take out a target. The government certainly didn't shy away from collateral damage, and Anhukarr knew he would have to play on their level to succeed.
"This is it," he said as his finger hovered over the icon that would trigger a shift in that distant building’s ventilation system. One tap and the jail cell would be flooded with enough chlorine gas to promptly annihilate those inside.
He moved to tap the icon, but realized after a heartbeat that his hand did not actually move. He looked down at his hand with a snarl.
"This is not a time for weakness!"
He looked back at the video feed from the cell. He could see the prisoners were clearly becoming more agitated from the flashing lights and inescapable sirens. He didn't want to admit it, but intentionally taking the lives of those in the cell was turning out to be something he could not casually dismiss. When he was making his preparations for this attack, he had merely assumed that his own compunction would not be an obstacle. Through the haze of self-anger that swept over him, a new idea reached him.
"Yes," he murmured, taking his finger away from the lethal icon. "Yes, she might think much more poorly of me if I kill like this. And the point, it has almost been made anyway. Just a slight modification..."
Anhukarr opened a new editing window and made a few changes to his script. He hoped the new values would suffice. There was no time to research it, he had to act based on his memory of earlier research. At the least, he was confident that the change would prevent the prisoners from actually dying.
As soon as he was done, his hand flew to the icon where it had hesitated before. This time there was no hesitation, and Anhukarr saw the effects almost immediately in the video feed. Kottes and the other prisoners panicked as they apparently realized that chlorine gas was being pumped into their cell, but Anhukarr's script cut off the supply much earlier than planned. The men would smell it, and probably experience discomfort, but not die.
He launched one more script which would unlock the cell door after a short delay. His revised mission complete, Anhukarr triggered his closure script which would back him out of the systems he had breached and clean up his tracks as it did.
"Now," he said softly, opening a fresh workspace on his work board, "we can't assume the cretins will put two and two together, so it is time for me to finally say hello to Rann Pillane."
Before he began drafting his message to Rann Pillane, he prepared the route it would take to avoid being traced back to him. Weaving in and out of a variety of systems, from mundane and properly functioning public services to compromised corporate and government servers to criminal operations that were never secured as much as their activities warranted, Anhukarr devised a complex trail that would never be worth untangling. This was so routine to him that he barely gave it any thought, and every time it was different to avoid exposing a pattern that could be used to predict and trap him. With the route prepared, he composed his message.
Rann Pillane:
I could have killed Kottes. I could have killed them all. I think this should be obvious, even to the fools with whom you associate. Don't think I wasn't tempted. But murder is not the point. Not murder of individuals, at least. Death of individuals may happen, but that is a consequence, not a goal. However, death of structure, death of enforced conformity, death of reflexive compliance... Such deaths are another matter entirely.
I do not care what the government now does with Kottes, but take note: I will treat any hint or suggestion that he and I are one to be a goading by the government to test my restraint, to which I shall answer with none at all.
Regards.
"That should suffice," he told himself, a humorless grin pulling up the corners of his mouth. He inserted an image that matched his acid etchings and sent the message on its way. "I think that will keep them busy enough." Anhukarr stared at his work board for a few moments. A fresh grin spread across his face. “Now it is time for more subtle things, things they will not realize are from me, but will make the citizens question their government as they never have before.”
He had seen a tempting target a few days prior. Now seemed like a good time to take advantage of it. He opened a new window on his work board and began to penetrate a system that was at the core of traffic control. There were several pieces of it that looked vulnerable, and it only took him a few minutes to begin inserting bugs that would misroute people and packages in a pseudorandom manner. There would be no signature on this, for he wanted the blame to fall fully on the government.
Anhukarr eventually powered down his work board and turned away. He was feeling drained after his latest attacks, especially the one where he nearly killed the poseur Kottes. Anhukarr's sleep disruptions made his fatigue even worse. He moved over to his wavecast screen and activated it, selected a suitable video loop, and settled in to do some meditation. It did not take him long to achieve a relaxed state, and he stayed that way for the maximum time that he ever allowed himself to meditate.
When he was done, he rose, stretched, and deactivated his wavecast screen. He knew that he could no longer avoid the process of finding someone who could give him information or insights into his sleep problems. He returned to his work board and activated it again. After some browsing a
nd consideration, he decided to reach out to an old man that he had met years before. It would have been inaccurate to call the old man a friend, but at times Anhukarr contacted him for guidance that he marginally trusted would not be shared with any authorities. Anhukarr was not sure if the old man felt the same way about government that he did, but certainly there was no love of authority in the old man.
Anhukarr tried to open a voice channel with the old man, but he got no answer. He did not want to take the time to rebuild another secure channel, so he opted instead for leaving a cryptic message. This, too, he did not want to do, but it seemed like the lesser of the two evils. Unfortunately, he could not know whether or not the old man would get his message. For all he knew, the old man might be dead now. The only way to find out would be to go to the restaurant that he had indirectly identified in his message, at the correct date and time, and see if the old man showed up.
Chapter Five
The moment Birkran Kinru awoke and opened his eyes, he was flooded with panic. He was not surprised, though. Panic was the most common thing for him to feel when he woke up. He took several deep breaths, as he usually did, and slowly calmed down. It helped that he recognized his surroundings. On rare occasion he didn't recognize them, and in those instances he found it a lot harder to get past the panic enough to move.
"I'm here again," he said after a moment. "I don't like this place. I like the other place better. I like the other person better."
Birkran stood up slowly. The living quarters were familiar enough to him that he knew where to get food, where to relieve himself, and where the cameras and other recording devices were hidden. He attended to the recording equipment before attending to his food and other bodily needs.
When he was ready to leave, Birkran checked carefully to ensure that the passageway connecting the resunits was empty of people. He then slipped out, securing the door behind him. He knew the exit route that was least observed was also the longest and a bit grungy, but avoiding interaction or even being seen was his highest priority. Without thinking about the negative aspects, he promptly headed in that direction. He stepped into a service corridor and was soon descending to a level rarely used by people.
At the bottom level, the stairs ended without even the formality of doors onto a wide, level passage that extended to the left and right of where Birkran entered it. The lighting was sparse and dim, as there was little need to expend energy lighting a passage primarily designed to carry utility ducting and automated service bots. There were various markings on the floor in different colors, many of them merely long stripes of which Birkran could see neither end. The only markings he heeded were bright blue guides, minimally illuminated by low profile, floor-level bulbs, showing where people could walk safely without interfering with -- or being endangered by -- the machines that moved through the corridor.
Birkran looked left and right and could see two large machines going in opposite directions. One appeared to be used for cleaning, while the purpose of the second one was not obvious. He also saw a half dozen or more smaller bots that moved much faster, some moving in one direction and others going the other direction. The smaller machines were more agile and ran on slightly more erratic routes. None of the units that he saw were a cause for concern, but Birkran knew he had to stay aware of what machines might approach. Some had the potential to observe him and even report his presence and activity to a human supervisor. That person might ignore the report, as it was not technically wrong for him to be there, but Birkran didn't want to gamble on that.
After following this route many times before, Birkran didn't really need to look at the markings for where he could safely walk. He did it anyway, out of habit and also to calm his nerves. The path was not designed for human convenience, making odd and often sharp turns at irregular intervals. Birkran moved as quickly as he could, but the path did not allow great speed.
When the path branched, he took the left branch which took him toward a smaller access tunnel. This new passageway sloped down visibly but not so steeply that he had any problem with it. The tracks in it were much simpler, with two machine tracks on the right and center and the human track running straight along the passage on the left side. The machine tracks had a coating on them to assist with traction, although Birkran couldn't think of what machines would require that on such a shallow slope. The straight path allowed him to move faster, and he jogged briskly down the passage until he reached his next turning point.
Birkran eventually reached another intersection and needed to go to the right. There were various markings on the floor to help humans and machines navigate safely, but this time he felt comfortable ignoring them. The only machines in sight were far enough and moving slowly enough that it was a simple matter to cross where he was technically not supposed to walk. The doorway on the far side of the passage opened to a set of stairs leading up.
"Good so far," Birkran said as he began jogging up the stairs, often taking two at a time.
When he reached the surface, Birkran was breathing harder from the long climb. The exertion made him feel good, but he did not allow himself to revel in the feeling in case focusing on that enjoyment made him less aware of his surroundings. The access port through which he passed led out onto one of the old-style streets which, long ago, might have been bustling with foot traffic. Those people would walk right next to surface traffic that was manually piloted. Now this level was deserted of people and the only surface traffic was in the form of steadily-paced bots that varied little from one to the next.
Birkran knew that walking along the deserted street might catch a curious glance from one of the countless passengers that streamed by in the traffic overhead, but people walking at that level was not so rare as to cause any kind of alarm. Nevertheless, he wasted no time and walked close to the base of the buildings to minimize his visibility. He checked the time regularly as he walked, even though he had walked this way many times before and he strode along at approximately the same pace as always.
"Still good," Birkran said when he reached the door to the building that was his destination. He let out a quiet sigh of relief. He grabbed the door handle and pulled, as he had many times before. For the first time, the door did not move. "No! No, it can't be locked. It's never locked!"
Birkran pulled as hard as he could on the door handle but the door did not move even slightly. Panic surging through him, he looked about wildly for some clue, some alternative. The city continued to move at its regulated pace, unheeding of one who did not fit and could not flow along. Birkran thought about pounding on the door, but it seemed entirely unlikely to him that anybody would be at that level of the building, lower than where daily life was focused and higher than the maintenance and storage sections. There would be no sense in hammering on the door if there was nobody on the other side to hear.
"I was told... he told me I could rely on this door never being locked," Birkran said as he finally gave up on getting through the door. "There is no need for it to be locked. No need. No need for it to be locked at all."
Continuing to mutter to himself as his mind felt swamped by dismay, Birkran moved slowly along the sidewalk. His attention to his surroundings was lost, he barely sensed he ground under his feet. He needed to get inside, and now it looked like he would need to use the front entrance to the building. Whether they would let him in was another question. His medoc, whom he only met surreptitiously to avoid official record of their contacts, had never said anything about what he should do to improvise in a situation like this.
Birkran reached an access lift and stepped inside. There was no need to press any buttons or issue any commands. The lift closed its doors when it sensed that there were no more passengers. It then rose smoothly up to the only other stop, where the doors opened to reveal the inside of a skybridge that connected his destination building to the one across the traffic gap. Birkran tensed immediately when he saw at least a dozen people moving along the skybridge in both directions. None of th
em looked at him, and he reminded himself repeatedly of that fact, but he still felt like they were all staring at him. Doing his best to steel himself for what would come next, he headed toward the gaping doors of the main entrance to his destination.
"Oh, it's you, sir," a man in a guard's uniform said to Birkran when he approached. "Trying a new wardrobe, sir? I didn't recognize you at first."
"Yes...?" Birkran responded. He was baffled at why the man would act as if he recognized him, but he could tell his response caused further confusion on the part of the guard. "Do you like it?" he asked lamely, trying to cover for his own confusion.
"Well, sir, it is different," the guard replied. "I'm glad to see you up and about, I'd heard you were ill again. Well, have a nice day, sir."
Birkran nodded and walked past the guard. He glanced about the entry lobby, trying to take it all in without giving the appearance of being a newcomer even though he had never entered the building this way before. He noticed a small group of people moving toward a set of lift doors, so he moved in that direction quickly enough to seem to have purpose but slowly enough that his presence would not catch their attention. He did not want them to keep their door open for him. He moved forward more quickly once their lift door closed.
Once in a lift by himself, he saw that it was a modern model and he only needed to verbally announce his destination floor. The lift moved quickly, smoothly, and quietly, taking him dozens of stories toward the sky before stopping and opening the door. Birkran stepped out without hesitation. The hallway he now stood in was finally familiar to him, but arriving by lift had not given him the chance to make sure it was empty before stepping into it. As the door closed behind him and the lift moved off to its next stop, Birkran saw an attractive woman standing at the door where he needed to go.
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