Mad Worlds Collide

by Tony Teora

  Creativity to a Zok was eating 5 times a day instead of 4.

  This is where the Earth came in. According to one old Zok religion (out of thousands of Zok religions), there was a planet of Hope that the Zoks could reach if they killed themselves in battle. The more furious the death, the higher you moved up on that eternal resting ground. This religion was called GuGu. The Zoks eventually discovered their recent position floating in the new strange Galaxy. Some figured that God wanted them to reach their final resting ground, and the good book of GuGu told the story of how they would find that location. Even the GuGu preachers could not believe their good fortune in the news that they were on a course to cross a planet that matched the requirements of the GuGu prophecy. The preachers upped the cost of the weekly GuGu preaching money baskets, and rewrote certain parts of the good book of GuGu based upon a vision of the elder GuGu priest. The vision came from drinking an intoxicating beverage called "Slok" in combination with an overloaded MagnoReceptor.

  The religious component of the Zok race made up over 99 per cent of the population. The military faction that controlled the planet used religion for control.

  What the military really wanted was the human melting pot of genetic juices. The Zoks were not stupid, just a little boring in their methods. They knew they needed to find a way to mix in their genetics with the Earth inhabitants. They could then take over their planet and that of Earth -- such was the plan. Being smart, yet being cloned with over 1000 warriors, tended to confuse the Zoks on their actual purpose in life. One thing was clear though, the Earth was in view and there was work to be done: they needed Robert and Big Blue.

  Big Blue amazed the Zoks. The Zoks knew computers. Zok computers were millions of years ahead of anything the earth had, except for one -- Big Blue. Big Blue resisted their hacking probes. The Zoks were sure it had something to do with a man called Robert Davichi. They decided to kidnap him, Big Blue and anyone who got in the way.

  Robert went to work in the company limousine. He passed through the security gate, entered the garage then took the elevator.

  Upon entering the top floor, he received cordial bows from three top managers. They directed him into the MI Japan boardroom overlooking the Kudanshita war memorial. Fifteen or so people sat drinking Polish mineral water and chewing on French pastries. A few young secretaries were handing out green tea. Robert went for the black coffee and cheese donuts, then took his seat. Gill was due in less than five minutes. The report Robert had put together would shake up the team. He could not tell them everything -- that was a Davichi trait. He had to make sure the data was correct for the big one. To explain something this big required accuracy. If Robert erred, it meant career suicide. The big one would have to wait a day, but todays other news would be big enough. Tomorrow’s news would be unbelievable, earth shattering. If he was right, and Robert knew he was right.

  Gill opened the main door and walked through with his secretary, Betty, a phony blond, and the CFO of MI, sweaty Frick Herman by his side. Frick wore his standard charcoal gray suit and red Harvard striped tie. The tie always looked like it was choking Frick, whose neck appeared smaller than Gill’s. Frick looked like he was melting, sweating from the heat, but the room was cool. Some said Frick had a gland problem. Robert shook Frick’s hand once. It felt like the inside of a warm wet Chinese takeout food container. Frick had curly red hair, overly large blue eyes and the build of a skinny jogger. Frick knew money. He could calculate the profit and loss for any MI branch office with a few keystrokes on his WebTele. Frick pushed the keys with an old number 2 pencil. Somehow it made Frick look smart.

  Not a good day to talk to Frick, thought Robert. A blue green bruise sat on Gill’s nose. He’d bumped it in the fighter plane cockpit

  Gill walked to the main table. "Hi everyone, relax and take a seat. Please excuse the nose-job. I had a bumpy flight but got some great publicity."

  People took seats. Robert sipped his coffee and sat to the right of Gill, then Frick sat to the left of Gill. Robert saw Betty turn on the tape recorder to keep a historical record of the meeting. No Betty, please don’t use the recorder today, thought Robert. Why Gill wanted video copies of all board meetings made no sense. It limited corporate freedom. Gill used them to show the SEC how clean he was compared to the previous CEO. He freely sent in copies of board meetings he thought gave a good impression of MicroIntel. Chip Tucker hated the idea, but Gill was stubborn. When Gill was pissed, he cursed at his people worse than any trucker in a full-up whorehouse. Robert’s team spent weeks editing out all the curses for the video collection. People in the edit room called the videos Nixon’s Revenge.

  Gill looked around the room, doing a head count. "I had a nice dinner with the Prime Minister last night. He made me promise not to take the Emperor out any more, said some Hawaiian girls got hold of him, then put some pictures in the local news."

  People started to chuckle. "If they can’t take a joke, the heck with them!" Gill smiled in a geeky way. Gill was smart and tough as a business person, but physically he was small and frail. Gill tried to make up for this frailty by speaking tough in front of the boardroom.

  "I’ve got to thank my man Chip Tucker for the idea of the fighter plane. He’s the best marketing and advertising guy in the world -- just don’t pick out anymore software names, please!"

  A few more people laughed. Chip sat next to Frick. Chip made Frick sweat.

  "Ok, we are in some pretty big trouble, according to Mr. Frick Herman. Our stock is down 10% over the last week. I lost 14 billion, but who’s counting?" A few people smiled.

  Gill looked over to Robert. "Where do we stand Robert?"

  Robert knew where he stood: in Buffalo shit. He pulled out his WebTele and turned on its boardroom projector. A technical map lit up the screen showing attempted entries into Big Blue.

  "We have a lot of trouble with the AS2100 software. We have a hacker that will be tough to get. I don’t think we can get our hands on him, we can only try to stop him."

  Gill chewed his knuckles. "That ‘s pretty fucked up, ah, I mean that’s terrible, what do you mean we can get him?"

  Robert clicked another slide showing an F-Caster Satellite in orbit around the Earth. "We can’t get him because he is over 800 million miles away from Earth. He hacked into this F-Caster Satellite, but the source is a radio transmission past Jupiter."

  Frick bit deeply into his number 2 pencil. He connected with the number 2 lead in the pencil and stopped chewing.

  "Well, now that’s really fucked up," said Gill squinting at the screen. He took his glasses off and rubbed them on a tissue.

  Gill looked at Frick, "Well, that news is not going to help our stock prices, now is it Frick?"

  Frick took a pencil out of his mouth and shook his head no. "No it’s not," he said.

  " I know, Gill. It’s not going to help the stock, but we have bigger problems than that." Robert changed the slide.

  "Well, ‘problem’ is a nice way to put it Robert. Who the hell is out there 800 million miles away screwing around with our goddamn software?" said Gill.

  Turn off the recorder Betty, please,Robert said to himself. "I don’t know, but I do not think they are human. And it’s not Voyager 6 or any other manmade system. I believe it is an alien race, and that’s not all."

  Chip smiled, and Frick started to sweat more. Frick wiped his forehead with his handkerchief.

  "Alien?" questioned Frick.

  "Yes, alien." Gill looked at Frick and Frick looked at Gill, like chipmunks staring at each other.

  Gill squinted at the screen. "So Chip, can we market the alien story to get more sales?"

  Chip smiled. " Sure Gill, we could create slogan that says…"

  "Shut up, I was joking. Goddamn it Robert, this is pretty bad news. Damn it! Betty, shut off the Goddamn recorder! We can’t have this shit on tape! Get me some water, I don’t have any water!"

  Betty shut off the recorder and ran over with two small bottles of mineral water. Gill
opened the first up and guzzled the whole bottle in less than five seconds. No one spoke. Gill opened up another bottle of mineral water. Frick looked at Gill in awe, wanting some of the water.

  "Robert, that’s pretty bad news." Gill sipped some more water. "I’m all calm now, what else?"

  Gill pulled on his collar and loosened his tie.

  Robert turned off the projector. "That’s not the worst news. I think I’ll have much worse news tomorrow. This might cost us a lot of money."

  Gill uncontrollably spit water out his mouth like he’d just sneezed. It shot across into the face of Betty. "I’m sorry Betty, please go to the ladies room, I’m really sorry." Betty got up and left the room. Frick offered Gill his handkerchief but Gill did not accept it. The idea of using Frick’s handkerchief made Gill nauseous. He grabbed a tissue from a box, wiped his face and then looked at Robert.

  Gill twisted his head like he had a cramp and spoke, "Worst news? Cost us a lot of money? Hey listen Robert, shit doesn’t get much worse than shutting down our AD2100 software. I made a deal with the Prime Minister last night that we’d be getting this wrapped up real soon. If there is something you are holding back that is worst news, I think now is a good time to come clean. What’s cooking?"

  Robert knew he should have left the issue alone. The word ‘deal’keptcoming out of Gill’s mouth, turning Robert’s stomach inside out. Deals were the life of Gill and constant trouble. "Gill, it might not be such bad news, but it might. I don’t want to speculate until tomorrow. I’ll know then."

  Gill shook his head. "It’s bad enough that we have the government in our network, now we have an alien trying to get in and you tell me it might get worse, but you can’t tell me how much worse?"

  Robert looked at Gill with that. He thought, you dirty son of bitch, you said you turned that government deal down, but you didn’t. You lied, didn’t you?

  "What do you mean we have the government in our network? They’re using processing time, aren’t they?" Robert demanded.

  "Not exactly, Robert. You see, the Anti-Trust Department was going to shut us down last year, so I let them use Big Blue for government research. I also gave them a back door to the com lines. They were trying to track terrorists and it was either that or they were shutting down Big Blue, which meant shutting down AD2100. I couldn’t allow that."

  "So instead we have a security threat to our system from the US?" Robert shook his head.

  "Well, it’s better than whatever thing is out there past Jupiter."

  Robert agreed with Gill. The alien hacker had to be worse. The government was just paranoid, looking up everyone’s asshole, but fairly human. The alien agenda was unknown, and this unknown caused fear. Robert had an idea why an alien might enter the system, but that would have to wait until he could confirm some information.

  Gill finished his second bottle of mineral water. Frick stared at Gill as if he were some kind of exotic pet in a store. Gill grimaced. Frick turned his attention to his WebTele, grabbed another number 2 pencil, and started chewing.

  Gill glanced at Robert. "I can’t wait until tomorrow, just give me the basics. I’m the CEO and I want to know now!"

  Robert had to give Gill something.

  "OK, I tracked another hacker in the system, and it’s not the government. I think I can get this one."

  Gill looked at Robert and shrugged. "That’s all?"

  Robert did not want to explain more. Getting this hacker was possible, but it had more repercussions than Gill could know. This hacker was the reason the aliens were trying to get into the system. Robert was sure of that.

  "How the fuck are we going to stop this hacker a eight hundred million miles away? And what do we tell the US? Shit, if this is an alien, they’ll be all over Big Blue like flies on shit! Ah, goddamn it, I’m cursing all over the place. We’re going to lose a lot of money. We’ll never catch Barnacle Bill. Who would have thought some dumb ass sailor would discover a billion-dollar medicine drinking fucking barnacle remover? Life isn’t fair!"

  Gill folded his arms and closed his eyes in thought. He knew his situation; the news would destroy Big Blue and AD2100. But Gill was not a quitter. He had perseverance and he could slowly eat a competitor piece by piece, The alien was a competitor, but it could be eaten.

  Gill unfolded his arms, "Can we talk to this alien hacker Robert? Can we make a deal with this guy? Maybe sell him something, maybe a copy of Big Blue?"

  Robert looked at Gill as if Gill had popped a blood vessel in his cognitive reasoning center. "Gill, they are trying to steal Big Blue! They are trying to figure out how we built this thing. You want to try and sell Big Blue to aliens? Our government uses Big Blue to calculate the weather, to calculate new nuclear missile designs, to calculate population growth, to control global warming and besides all that MicroIntel spent one thousand man-years in programming the thing. Please don’t tell me you’d sell it to aliens?"

  Gill would, but the way Robert put it made Gill think. Gill looked at Frick who was chewing his third number 2 pencil. Sweat was running down part of Frick’s forehead. Gill had wanted to be the richest guy in the world, but now he had to compete with aliens. Life was not fair, but Gill wasn’t either." No Robert, we can’t sell it when you put it like that! Can we make them think we are selling it, and sell them something else?"

  Robert had not thought of cheating the alien hacker, but Gill’s idea did have merit. "You have a good point, Gill. I can set up something with Big Blue to give them something, but not what they really want. But I need to do more checking and it won’t be easy."

  "Great! Maybe we can convince these guys to stay out, and then get Japan all locked up with the installation. Let’s do it!"

  Gill spoke to Robert privately after everyone left. The private meeting lasted no more than ten minutes but Robert and Gill came to an agreement. Gill would kick out the US military out of Big Blue if Robert would figure a way to kick out the alien hacker. They figured out a way to keep the Anti-Trust union out too -- if it all worked. The only missing part was the last hacker.

  If he was right, Robert would have to make the deal of his life with this hacker. The hacker had a lot more power than he knew, but Robert knew the hacker. Robert was sure of that. When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.This was a Sherlock Holmes quote that Robert recalled. The hacker was what the aliens wanted, but Robert had to get the hacker first, before it was too late. The hacker knew about the US military connection, this must have triggered him into action. It was all making sense now, if sense could be made.

  General Schwartz sat in an underground bunker on the outskirts of Washington DC next to fat black man wearing a blue Disney Polo shirt, Victor Longfellow, the top programmer in the NSA. Victor chewed on a Snickers candy bar at the same time studying the outputs of a green flashing computer screen.

  "Why do you eat so much chocolate, Jones?" asked Schwartz.

  While still chewing Victor mumbled, "I think better when I’m eating chocolate, plus it tastes good."

  "Well, can you finish it quick? I hate talking to people with food in their mouths."

  "Sure," said Victor taking a large bite.

  "So what have we got? Are the new chips working?" asked Schwartz.

  "Funniest thing I’ve ever seen, General. Jone’s team got the crypto-codes from Robert on his flight to Japan," said Victor swallowing half the Snickers in one gulp.

  "Jones said the dummy used an non-secure login during his flight," said Schwartz.

  "Well he’s not such a dummy, Sir. He needed to override the plane’s control system. Seems like somebody wanted to kill the guy."

  The General ignored the statement. "So, are the chips working?"

  "Well that’s the other funny thing, I think they are defective too, that something got inside them and changed their wiring. We’ve still got someone in our system."

  "What about the missile control? Do we have missile control?"

  "We
ll, it looks like we still do, but to everyone else it’s going to look like someone else has control. I still don’t like the idea."

  "Victor, your job is not to think. Now if we launch onto Washington from off-shore, how long to impact Washington DC?"

  "Well, the USS Ticonderoga is scheduled to be off the coast of Baltimore in two days. If she launches six of her Cruise missiles, Washington would be totally wiped out in less than five minutes. The Norad command would know in forty-five seconds and the President would be on his way to a bunker in less than three minutes. He’ll have two minutes to get cover."

  General Schwarz thought: Not enough time with the DC convention. The VP will get his too at the other end of town in Congress. Only the Speaker of the House will be around, and he’s in the ‘ole back pocket. The military will have its coup d'etat and get rid of a president who keeps cutting the military budget. I’ll be in charge, and with the Zok weapons we’ll have everything!

  "Good Victor, good. Everything is fine."

  "Not really, Sir. With those chips all screwed up it’s hard to tell who knows what. If this gets out, we’re cooked."

  General Schwartz looked at Victor finishing his candy bar. He visualized Victor roasting on an open grill, slowing turning over hot coals, with a large candy apple in his mouth.

  "It’s only two days. I think we can survive for two days," said the General heading toward an exit. "If you see anything strange, keep me posted. I have a meeting with Jones and then I fly to Colorado. You better get out early tomorrow too. You don’t want to be in Washington for the fireworks, do you Victor?"

  "No Sir," said Victor.

  Schwartz walked down the hallway to room called the coffin: asecure conference room with a one-foot thick steel door. Besides being soundproof, the room had walls so thick that not even the slightest electromagnetic signal sound could get in or out. The room included a battery-driven internal air-machine that sucked in carbon dioxide and put out oxygen. The machine could run for forty-eight hours. Even the lights in the room were battery driven, and were changed weekly. For security the steel and lead box was it.