Calm Act Box Set (Books 1-3)

by Ginger Booth

  Emmett nodded gratefully. “Yeah. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. In the Apple Zone, most people only have meshnet.” The Apple Zone was the region we’d just left, encompassing North Jersey, New York City, the northern suburbs, and Long Island – inside the epidemic control borders. The region the Calm Act walled in to die before Project Reunion.

  Emmett continued, “Seems strange for Pittsburgh. But Tolliver interdicted Internet for the whole state, before the war. I thought they kept internal comms, though.”

  “Was Pittsburgh in particularly bad shape?” Kalnietis asked.

  Emmett shrugged. “I was focused on the Apple.”

  “Would you have expected Pittsburgh to be in bad shape? It was a large city.”

  “Not that large,” Emmett countered. He took his phone back and brought up the stats. “Only 300k in the city. Big metro region, couple million people. But that’s stretching into West Virginia and Ohio. Plenty of agriculture. Hell, they even have fuel. Lots of fuel.” He sighed. “New York, New England – we could wish for this resource profile.”

  “I understand Rescos, like yourself, use a 10-point scale to describe the ‘level’ of an area,” said Kalnietis. “With this profile, what level would you expect, under a ‘good’ Resco?”

  “Level 6 to 9,” Emmett replied. “Sky’s the limit, really. But Schwabacher said Pittsburgh was fishy.”

  “The governor-general of Ohio?” Kalnietis confirmed. “‘Fishy’? What do you think he meant by that?”

  “Don’t know,” replied Emmett. “But he was the one pushing for me to come out here. Taibbi – Penn’s governor – didn’t argue.” Emmett looked pained. “Taibbi didn’t seem to know much about Pittsburgh. Anyhow, Ohio and Penn have a re-industrialization plan, centered on Pittsburgh. One of the main planks of Schwabacher’s 5-year plan for the Ohio valley. But Pittsburgh was already ‘fishy’, and now this.”

  “But you report to General Cullen, in New York–New Jersey,” Kalnietis probed. “Or do you revert to New England, after Project Rebuild in the Apple Core?”

  Emmett sighed. “I work for the Army. Somebody’s Army. I was due for reassignment. So they figured I was available. They asked me to do this first.”

  Gianetti stepped in again. “Why would the hero of Project Reunion be reassigned out of New York City?”

  “I was expecting Long Island or North Jersey,” Emmett allowed. “Cullen wants to spread out his senior Rescos. He wasn’t happy having two of us in one city. It’s Ash Margolis’ home town, and he’s senior to me. So we agreed I’d stay to get the Apple Rebuild off to a good start. Then leave the Apple Core to Ash and move on.”

  “You’re not offended by this?” Gianetti pressed.

  “Relieved,” Emmett replied. “Not my kind of town. Just felt obligated. I care about the apples – the survivors there. Been through hell. Admire them, you know? Couldn’t leave in good conscience until they were set on a good road.” Emmett still had mixed feelings about leaving them, his heroes, and it showed on his face. “But Ash is solid. They’re in good hands.”

  “So what do you see as your assignment in Pittsburgh, Colonel MacLaren?” Kalnietis redirected. “And how can we help?”

  “Well, I hope IBIS can tell us why Dane Beaufort is dead,” Emmett replied. “The mechanics of it. Who killed him. They want me to figure out whether he was a good Resco, what he did right and wrong. Assess Pittsburgh. And recommend whether Pittsburgh should get a new Resco. Default is no.”

  “No?” Gianetti asked sharply.

  “No,” Emmett confirmed. “A Resco is a privilege, not a right. The default is that they’re on their own. Sink or swim.”

  “But they’re in good shape to survive that,” suggested Gianetti, “based on their resource profile?”

  “That’s the crux of what I have to answer,” said Emmett, “in my recommendations.”

  “What law governs that decision?” Kalnietis asked.

  “None that I know of,” Emmett replied. “Resco is a military posting. General Taibbi can assign a Resco wherever he sees fit. The murderers will be executed, though. Under martial law.”

  “What would happen if General Taibbi were at fault?” Kalnietis asked delicately.

  “War,” Emmett replied. “That’s what happened to his predecessor, General Tolliver. Until Taibbi’s forces killed him. Depends on how bad Taibbi was, of course. Cullen and Schwabacher wouldn’t bother to fight him, unless he was a problem for them.”

  “So if he were just a Pennsylvania problem…”

  “Pennsylvania would have a problem,” Emmett confirmed. “That’s the theory. At any rate, I’m not here to judge Governor-General Taibbi. Just offer suggestions.”

  “I see,” Kalnietis said neutrally. “And you, Ms. Baker? I understand you’re Colonel MacLaren’s partner?”

  “Yes,” I said sunnily. “Just keeping my sweetie company.”

  “Uh-huh,” said Emmett wryly. “That’s not fair, darlin’. Agents Kalnietis and Gianetti are on our team here. Agents, you already caught the part where Dee is one of the principals behind the Amenac and Project Reunion web empires? Set up meshnet communications for the whole Apple? Among other tricks.”

  This seemed to catch the IBIS agents off guard. I was a bit miffed and unimpressed that they hadn’t looked into me as closely as Emmett. Perhaps they thought they already knew who I was. As what, a Project Reunion reporter and love interest for MacLaren the hero?

  “That’s about it for tricks,” I soft-pedaled. Looking inoffensive and unimportant was my usual strategy. It’s easier to be devious when people aren’t watching you carefully.

  “Co-author of Project Reunion itself,” Emmett added.

  “What do you mean, co-author of Project Reunion?” Kalnietis asked.

  “She co-authored the plan with me,” Emmett clarified. “It was her idea in the first place, to use Tom Aoyama’s quarantine scheme to save New York. We were partners on it all along. The governor-generals asked me to bring Dee to Pittsburgh. Civilian perspective. Dee knows more Rescos and Cocos – community coordinators – than just about anybody.”

  “Does that mean I get paid for this trip?” I inquired sweetly.

  Emmett tapped the letter in his pocket, appointing him a temporary Colonel of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania. “Got 90 meal tickets. Want some?”

  “Meal tickets?” Kalnietis asked.

  “One year’s food for one adult male,” Emmett clarified. He shrugged apologetically. “That’s what Rescos get paid. Our own food too, of course, but Dee and I grow our own. The meal tickets are to invest as we see fit. As a light colonel, I get 75 meal tickets in New York–New Jersey. Only 1800 calories a day there. Penn pays 2500 calories a day on a full meal ticket, darlin’.”

  “Sweet!” I said. “Huh. Then I wonder if a meal ticket is worth much here.”

  “Didn’t he just say it was worth more?” Kalnietis asked, puzzled.

  I smiled at Kalnietis ruefully. “If Penn can afford 2500 calories a day, people can’t be very hungry.”

  3

  Interesting fact: Strictly speaking, the American ‘Bible Belt’ refers to the southeastern and south-central states, stretching from the Carolinas and Florida in the east, to Texas, Oklahoma, and Missouri to the west, where evangelical Protestants rule in religion and politics, and over 60% of adults consider themselves ‘highly religious.’ But there is also a religious gradient between the Northeast, where religion is nearly taboo in public discourse, and the Midwest, with more evangelicals and Bible Belt sensibilities. This religious shift takes place somewhere between Philadelphia and Pittsburgh.

  To my delight, New England – or its top-ranking resource coordinator, at any rate – had sent along my old pal Marine Sergeant Tibbs to aid our investigation. We had an odd relationship, Tibbs and I. He was my jailer once on a Navy ark, when HomeSec arrested me for founding Amenac. In that role, I’d say he helped launch the ideas that led to Project Reunion. Last year, he’d worked security at
the conference that officially launched Project Reunion. Tibbs was a quiet lad, methodical and bland, who looked like a dull teenage linebacker. I liked him.

  A table was moved to the end of our booth for the two prisoner interrogators and Captain Johnson and his second, Sergeant Becque, to join us. The rest of Johnson’s men and women had naturally chosen seats as far away from the celestial Colonel as the dimensions of the dining room allowed, giving us a modicum of privacy.

  Tibbs dove in. “They were after you, Colonel, not the food. They attacked the produce cars because they had visible armed guards. Had to take them out first.” The food train guards rode between and on top of the food container cars. “Unfortunately, these two don’t know much.”

  Sergeant Becque offered, “They were easy to catch. Hanging back and avoiding action. Figured they were running the raid.”

  “Sorry, no,” said Tibbs. “Just disobeying orders.”

  Tibbs summarized what little our captives knew. Their militia leader, Sergeant Lohan, was indeed hanging back from the fray to supervise, and escaped clean. Lohan had told the attacking squad that there were investigators on the train from New York, and they were to prevent the party from reaching Union Station and the city council. Their goal was to take us to another militia leader, Sergeant Bremen.

  Beyond that, our sources were of murky understanding. All they really knew about Bremen was that he was Lohan’s boss, and older, maybe 35. They weren’t clear on whether we were to be taken hostage, or if this was just an unfortunate attempt to talk to us. The prisoners weren’t normally in Lohan’s troop, and had refused to attack the train, because that would be looting.

  “My advice,” continued Tibbs, “is to set them loose with a message: we want to talk to Lohan and Bremen. I’m not sure they’ll deliver the message. But these guys are no use to us.”

  Puzzled, Emmett asked, “Can’t they just give us Lohan’s phone number?”

  Tibbs frowned. “Apparently the locals don’t use phones. There are only a few surviving cell towers. We’re sitting under one of them, and the railroad has comms. But no land lines. Tornados played hell with their long-distance cables. The lines are broken everywhere.”

  Emmett looked to me. “Sure,” I said. “I can set up a Pittsburgh meshnet after dinner.” That was the messaging network I’d commissioned for the Apple Zone in New York, near-field communications passing phone to phone. The mesh was only good for text messages and low-resolution images, not voice. But it didn’t require any infrastructure. Our mesh software also tracked people and resources on a map. “Could take weeks for people to adopt the system, though, Emmett.”

  “No,” said Emmett, “it spreads fast once people know it’s possible. Provided they can charge their phones. But we have power.”

  “They don’t,” Tibbs clarified. “Most people don’t have power. They don’t eat like this, either.” He tilted his head to the buffet. “The prisoners were drooling at us while we ate. Furious that the city council was pretending things were all hunky-dory here. Apparently the area around this hotel is an island of the old normal. The citizenry doesn’t have much.”

  Tibbs looked thoughtful and tilted his head. “Colonel, I don’t think there are many people left in the city. If we’re going to wait to give them phones and the meshnet, anyway… Maybe I’ll bring them some plates of food. Get chummy. Let them talk about life here.”

  Emmett nodded. “Do that. Once you’ve got the gist, I’d like you with me to have another chat with Wiehl later. Thank you, Tibbs.”

  Tibbs and his assigned sidekick moved on to the buffet, to select seconds and desserts for themselves, plus a generous feed for the prisoners.

  “Is that wise, Colonel?” Kalnietis asked. “To give people communications at this point?”

  Emmett shrugged. “Makes it easier to talk to them. And Dee and I can monitor what they say.”

  “Spy on them?” Gianetti blurted.

  Emmett nodded, and held her eye. “That’s how the meshnet works. Amenac too. And the PR News website, since it’s built on Amenac’s infrastructure. Nothing private about it. All tracked.”

  Gianetti didn’t like it. She and Kalnietis really were old-school FBI, out of the loop, if invasion of privacy made them rigid. To me, that was old news. The Calm Act relieved us of any right to privacy, and the martial law governments weren’t rushing to give it back.

  I left them to take out my computer in the lobby and set up a meshnet, wondering what kind of Pandora’s box I was about to unleash. If most of Pittsburgh had been offline for two years, since the borders went up, its people had some rude awakenings in store.

  I figured the far end of Long Island had more in common with isolated Pittsburgh than our community mesh in New York City did. So I lifted Major Cameron’s configuration files as a starting point. He had a very thin feed of news from outside going to a bulletin board post, along with basic help files, local government orientation, and announcements.

  Weather reports and warnings needed to go front and center, of course. I tweaked the parameters for weather and the news feed for Pittsburgh relevance. I dithered a little about whether I should be more even-handed, and provide IndieNews as well as Amenac’s meshnet feed for news. But Indie stories made it to the top 10 on Amenac’s new feed often enough. I couldn’t say anything about the local government, so replaced that with ‘to be completed.’ For now, I introduced our investigation, with links to bios on Project Reunion, Emmett’s and mine, if anyone was curious.

  I added a single announcement:

  IMPORTANT: Investigating death of Major Dane Beaufort. Witnesses contact @IBISAKalnietis#Beaufort. Pittsburgh community coordinators, contact @RescoEMacLaren#PittCoco. Also wish to speak to Sergeants Lohan and Bremen at @RescoEMacLaren#PittTrain.

  With any luck, that should start generating leads for Emmett and Special Agent Kalnietis, neatly sorted into message buckets. For our troops from New York, meshnet propagation was a simple tap on a button. We were already on our neighborhood Brooklyn meshnet, and several others. Everyone else in the hotel with a functioning phone also got a prompt, as the viral software insinuated itself into the neighborhood. I hoped I wouldn’t need to wander through the hotel, person to person, and explain. Nope. Kalnietis, Gianetti, Tibbs, and Wiehl popped onto the net quickly. Kalnietis even took the hint and set his mesh handle correctly to ‘IBISAKalnietis.’

  Two more problems to solve. One, I had no intention of donating my equipment to Pittsburgh. I wanted another computer to run the meshnet. Two, I needed more phones to hand out, and recharging centers, to spread the net wider and faster. The sun had already set, and Pittsburgh hadn’t looked open for business even in daytime. So I thought those challenges would have to wait on tomorrow.

  But a brief consultation with hotel manager Wiehl worked wonders. The hotel kept lost-and-found bins of abandoned items. This provided my choice of three laptops, over fifty phones, and all manner of charging cords. And just off the lobby, the hotel featured a high-speed Internet cafe room, where guests could plug in when the WiFi was clogged. The Internet room had charging stations in plenty. All I had to do was warn our door guards, and advertise the charging station on the meshnet resource map.

  I’d barely managed to plug in the discarded laptops to start charging before the first locals arrived. By the time I finished sorting out the rejects from my spare phone collection, the room was filling up nicely. I’d explained what was going on to enough locals that they mostly educated each other now.

  A rather intent pair of guys in militia camouflage even helped me plug in my spare phones. At a guess, they’d been posted outside to observe the hotel. I popped off a quick note to Tibbs and Emmett about them, but limited myself to being friendly to everyone. Soon Tibbs’ side-kick, Nguyen, wandered in to recharge his phone and lazily kibitz with them.

  Mission accomplished in the recharging station. I took my pick of the three free laptops back out to the lobby with me, plugged it back in, and cloned the meshnet mast
er terminal software onto it. Within a few minutes, I was able to let it take over the meshnet traffic load.

  Less than two hours from start to finish, and our new meshnet already had over a thousand users. Two more charging centers even advertised themselves on the map. Ours had a waiting line of 40 people the guards kept outside, the limit they’d allow in before we closed for the night at 11:00. Visitors were allowed to charge up to five phones at a time, provided there were enough cables. This kept the parking lot social scene lively, as those turned away bargained with people in line to charge a phone for them. Nguyen and his new pals left their phones plugged in, and wandered outside to continue socializing while they helped insure good behavior.

  Back in the dining room, I delivered a kiss on the crown of Emmett’s head. “You left me some dessert!” I said with a smile. I’d snagged blueberry pie and a pastry on the way in.

  “Uh-huh,” Emmett agreed. He pulled me down to his seated level and returned my kiss and grin. “You do good work, darlin’.”

  I settled into the booth beside him. Our IBIS agent friends stared at me in fresh consternation. I smiled sunnily at them. “Any leads?”

  They nodded slowly. Kalnietis murmured, “You’re scarier than he is,” with a nod to Emmett.

  “Good!” I assured him, and dug into my pie. I’d hoped we could let the meshnet spread and collect up leads, while we headed for bed. I should have known better. Emmett and the agents were glued to their phone screens.

  “Darlin’, what do you think of these churches?” Emmett asked.

  I shrugged. Churches and I coexist amicably in the world. I didn’t plan to visit one tonight. They seemed to be popping up all over the meshnet map. I was happy for them, to the limited extent that I cared. Anyone on the mesh could add markers to note places of interest – eateries, charging stations, warnings, churches, whatever.

  But Emmett tapped a church marker open to show me. Normally, a church would add a bit more detail to their marker on the map, like on the curbside sign outside a church. Denomination. Pastor’s name. Hours for religious services. A brief thought for the day, like ‘Jesus loves you’, or ‘Happy Easter.’