by Ian Williams
“Where are these people now?” Graham asked the Chief Superintendent.
“Outside, with my officers. We’re taking them back to be interviewed.”
“Can I speak to one of them first? We need some idea of what they were doing here.”
The Chief Superintendent called over to an officer waiting by the entrance, who quickly dashed out. Moments later the door swung open again, smacking against the wall. The noise echoed around the building and startled an unseen bird, which began to flap around somewhere within the shadows above them.
Graham jumped as a struggling man was hauled in. The officer did his best to avoid being kicked by the man as he pushed him forward.
“Tell us what you’ve been doing here,” the Chief Superintendent said.
The man was proving to be quite the handful, despite being slightly shorter than the officer holding him. His scruffy clothing looked at least one size too big, which made him appear more like a teenager than an adult miscreant. The unwashed smell that followed him suggested he had not only missed today’s wash, but at least a week’s worth. He concentrated on the floor and ignored the question altogether.
Graham decided he should try and get some insight into the man’s operation, before the officer set about making him answer through force – which the officer’s unmoving glare hinted he was only moments away from doing. “I’m Graham, from Simova. Did you and your friends set this up?” He had not meant to sound like he was asking a child. The teenage look of the man had brought it out of him unintentionally.
The man raised his head and appeared to consider speaking. Everyone waited, anticipating some in-depth description of what they had been up to. Unfortunately for Graham the man chose another approach altogether, and spat in his face. At which point the interview was abandoned and the officer holding the man began his own interrogation, with the butt of his weapon.
“Maybe I should have asked him,” Elliot said, with a smirk. He wandered back to the wall of computers and began to look it over with his clear plastic tablet.
“Thanks,” Graham replied. However disgusting a gesture it may have been he vaguely understood the man’s reaction. He and Elliot were his enemies, regardless of whether they garnered an ill will toward him. He rummaged around in his pocket for a tissue or a cloth. When he could find neither he rolled up the bottom of his work shirt and scrubbed his face with the eagerness of someone cleaning a dirty sink.
“I apologise for that,” Chief Superintendent Jackson said.
“No problem,” Graham replied.
“I’ll clear my officers out and let you get to work.” Again Chief Superintendent Jackson called out to his men and was immediately obeyed. He gave the order to leave with a wide sweeping hand toward the exit, and then turned back to Graham. “If you need anything just ask one of my men and they’ll get what you need.”
Graham nodded and then watched as the room cleared, leaving only him and Elliot inside. It was still anything but quiet. The blanket of noise from the cooling fans continued unabated as they drew already warm air into the depths of the system. At least the pigeon above them had settled down.
Ten metres or so ahead, Elliot walked along with his tablet aimed at the computers. Graham decided to join him rather than break out his own device. “Anything interesting?” he asked.
Elliot continued to work as he spoke. “Nothing at all.” He waved the tablet up to the top of the computers and then back down again. Once he finished the move he dropped the device to his side. “I mean there’s absolutely nothing. I can’t get any readings from any of this. What the hell is it all?”
“Nothing?” Graham said. He took the tablet from Elliot and performed his own inspection. He trusted his partner, it was just odd to be faced with something so unconnected. He looked through the screen and waited for a representation of the system’s activity to begin shining back at him. But nothing happened. Not for one second did he think the readout would be the solid green that told him everything was OK. He did still expect to see something at least.
“See?” Elliot asked.
“Yeah. This stuff is too old by the looks of things.”
“It’s creepy, that’s what it is.”
“There must be something up-to-date in here. How were they interacting with this stuff?” Graham said, looking through a gap in the many wires.
“My guess is they took that part with them.”
“What, when the police stormed the place? They didn’t have time. There must be something, look at that end and see what you can find.”
Elliot jogged off and was soon far enough away to reach the end. He then stopped, looked up at something and disappeared around the corner of the computer wall.
At his end, Graham began to pull at an assortment of the hanging cables, each one thick, around an inch wide, and woven around others of equal thickness. He tried to follow one by pulling it out and sliding his hand along it, only to become stuck as the tension overwhelmed him. None of it was in any shape to be prized apart by his hands alone. In frustration he began to yank the cables in an attempt to release one of them. When this also failed he gave up. Nothing he did could make a difference anyway, not while the thing had no visible input device. All he risked doing was pulling a muscle in his arm.
From the other end of the warehouse came a loud whistling sound that immediately caught Graham’s ear. When he finally managed to escape the tangled hell of cabling, he saw Elliot waving to him. Another whistle told him it was urgent. Elliot had found something.
For the first few steps Graham attempted to jog just like Elliot had. His breathing soon became heavy as the air that entered his lungs was already far too warm. He already found it hard enough to run these days, without a lack of quality air making things worse. “What?” he said after a less than brisk walk.
“I found something,” Elliot said, with an excitable clap of his hands.
“I gathered that. What is it?”
Elliot led the way around the back of the computer wall and stopped a few metres along. He then placed his hand on something hidden in the darkness. When Graham failed to spot it, Elliot rolled his eyes and said: “Just watch.”
With a flick of a switch the wall to the side of the computers lit-up, throwing a glow across the empty room. Graham leaned around the side and saw the screen that had been stuck like wallpaper to the wall. It had been hidden due to its design, which was thin and clear just like Graham’s wrist screen. Except unlike that, this screen stretched across the entire height of the wall and most of its width. What it displayed was nothing more than colourful and moving patterns. Not quite the threat they were waiting to find.
“Cool,” Elliot said, peering through a gap in the computers.
Once facing the screen they both had to step back to see its actual size. By the time they reached the halfway mark toward the beginning of the computer wall they could finally see the whole display. And that was not all. On a small table to their right were the glowing keys of a QWERTY keyboard, which had also been hidden by the dark before. The primitive nature of the equipment that surrounded them unfortunately required an equally primitive means of communication. They were wired too, with each connected to the system via a mess of cables, all snaking off in different directions across the floor. Only the large display appeared to be of modern design.
“Let’s see if we can get something out of this thing,” Graham said as he walked toward the table.
As he approached, he noticed the weird patterns that swirled and mingled on the huge screen beside him. One of the shapes even moved as he walked. It went through various different colours as it ventured across the screen, until it eventually settled on a shade of blue. When Graham reached the table the shape stopped, almost like it were copying him.
The table had two glowing keyboards laid out side-by-side. Two people had been working with the system it seemed. Why, and to what end, remained a mystery. Even though the keyboards were touch sensitive and set into a thin sh
eet of flexible plastic, they were still less than up-to-date. Such was the evasive nature of these hackers that they remained firmly in the unconnected realm. From what Graham could see, the entire set-up appeared less capable than his washing machine. Yet something did catch his eye.
“Hang on a minute,” Graham said, drawing Elliot’s attention away from the keyboard he was investigating. He placed Elliot’s tablet down and tapped at the keys with a clumsy heaviness that betrayed his lack of experience with a QWERTY keyboard. When nothing happened on the wall display he decided to explain himself instead. “Look,” he said before pointing to the far right-hand corner of the wall screen. “What’s that look like to you?”
Elliot followed the thought immediately after spotting the same thing. In the far right corner sat a shape that had remained in place the entire time the screen had been on. It was much smaller than anything else, as it hogged the corner it resided in. The one thing that stood out to Graham was the way it acted. While the rest of the screen had been awash with moving colours and interacting patterns, this tiny little piece had tried its best to hide.
“Aaron did say someone had mentioned MARCs,” Elliot said.
Graham left the table and approached the screen. He moved slowly just in case it turned out to be exactly what he believed it to be. “He said a bunch of MARCs. If that’s one of them then it isn’t the same as the ones we usually see. For starters, why isn’t the system malfunctioning?”
“We don’t know it isn’t.”
Elliot’s logic was hard to refute. Nothing there told them how things were supposed to work, let alone if it had begun to act-up.
“Well, there’s only one way I know of pissing off a MARC corruption,” Graham said. He returned to his work bag by the entrance of the room and pulled out his Shock-tool. The bulb-like implement was his favourite piece of kit. The Isolators had become a pain-in-the-ass and were always threatening to burn out. Not so with the Shock-tool. Unlike the Isolators, this tool kept going regardless of how many times he used it or how much power fed back into it and began flashing about inside the bulb.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Elliot paused and placed his hands on his waist before continuing. “I mean, we don’t know how many may be in there.”
“Can you think of a better idea, because I can’t? Besides, this place is separate from the rest of the city’s network. So we don’t need the Isolators this time. Even the newer tech here is physically wired in. They can’t escape even if they wanted to, we’ve found no wireless route in or out of here. Plus if we blow it, who cares, no-one will miss this place or any MARCs that might be hiding in here.”
“Fine, just take it easy OK.”
Graham gripped the tool tightly in his hand, making sure that no part of him touched anything but the rubber handle. He quickly looked back to Elliot. His partner had grabbed his clear plastic tablet again and was holding it up to the screen. He turned back. As he neared the screen he became solely focused on the small, greyish shape that still hung to the edge.
“Anything showing up?” Graham asked, as a bead of sweat ran down his nose.
Elliot shook his head while scratching it with his right hand. “No, all I’m seeing is the screen. This thing can’t get a readout from inside.” If not for his decision to crop his hair to within an inch of its life, he would have had hair to pull out. As it was he had to settle on other ways of venting his trepidation, and scratching his head seemed to be one of them. His excitement had since faded.
“OK, stay back.” With less than a metre to go until he could reach out and touch his Shock-tool to the screen, Graham slowed down even more. He then stopped and kept his right foot in place as he slid his left toward the glowing wall. With his legs at an angle – and as far apart as he could stretch them – he held out the tool. Sweat ran down the length of his arm as he reached out. Any MARCs within the machine would certainly not appreciate what Graham was about to do, and he knew from experience they would show it.
The instant the tool made contact with the screen it burst into life, sending Graham running back toward Elliot. Like an excited prankster who had just knocked on a door and then legged-it, he decided not to turn back to see the results. The shock that had passed from his tool to the screen leapt into action immediately, running the entire height and length of the wall and then on through the wall of computers to their side. A sound like that of a million popcorn machines all popping at once, hammered its way through the room from the far end to the entrance. Each pop was the sound of different parts failing to carry the excess charge throughout the networked computers.
Graham raced into Elliot, pulling him along with an excited giggle. Once far enough away they turned back to find the small shape they had seen now speeding around in a distorted frenzy of static. It was a MARC and it had not enjoyed the prodding from Graham one bit.
Dumbfounded, and with their mouths hanging open, the pair of them became overwhelmed by the rest of the display. The colourful and swirling images they had enjoyed earlier had taken on a new and much more threatening look to them now. Each one thrashed about and tried its best to escape the onslaught from the Shock-tool’s charge. The noise built up until it had begun to sound like a siren, bellowing out a warning to those in danger nearby. Who they were calling out to was anyone’s guess.
Aaron’s original comment had indeed been correct, Graham realised. They did have a bunch of MARCs there after all. In fact, more than they were trained to deal with. And yet dealing with them was the last thing on his mind. The new question he wanted answered was: why? What possible reason could these hackers have for holding so many dangerous corruptions locked up in their system?
They watched as the display continued to flash like a psychedelic orgy of colours and eye watering patterns. Whatever was happening it was not an enjoyable sight to see for Graham as he heard Elliot’s voice in his head. If these MARCs were more than simply a corruption that needed removing, then what were he and Elliot really doing?
Both stood quietly as the room echoed with the sound of exploding wires and erupting capacitors. There was nothing they could do. They would have to wait for the Shock-tool’s charge to dissipate completely before deciding where they went from there. If the job only required that they contain these MARCs then they had no problem. However, if they were supposed to remove and destroy them, then they had an issue. First of which was to figure out how to interact with them. Their modern day equipment did not understand the same computer language. Like teaching a caveman Quantum Mechanics with building blocks, they had the wrong tools to do it.
Eventually the sounds of the computers tearing themselves apart had stopped. Only the occasional pop continued. The chaotic movements on the screen had slowed as well. A large portion of the display had been trashed entirely and could now only display a fuzzy representation of what was happening. But everything was thankfully returning to a much lower energy state.
“I think I just shit myself!” Elliot said.
Graham’s laughter was heartfelt and quickly turned into a coughing fit. Neither of them had seen a reaction like that before. Even though they still had no idea what they were really dealing with, they carried on as if it was any ordinary job. Whatever these were, MARCs or something more than that, they were in the hands of the Simova Company now.
“We’re going to need some help with this one. I’m calling Aaron,” Graham said.
From outside the entrance of the warehouse came the noise of a disruption. It distracted them both for a second. When no-one came in to join them they carried on, with an exchange of shrugged shoulders.
“I’d say we need at least three more teams,” Elliot put in.
With his wrist held up and the screen facing him, Graham waited for the call that had automatically initiated upon hearing his intention, to go through. A second later and Aaron’s still tired looking features appeared.
“Update,” Aaron said. A polite ‘hello’ was never his thing.
&n
bsp; “You were right, we’ve got MARCs here. We’re going to need help, probably three more teams.”
“Fine, I’ll get them sent over as soon as we can spare them.” Aaron interlocked his fingers and looked away before he continued at a lower volume. “What were they doing there then?” he said, eyeing his office in an almost conspiratorial manner.
“Who, the MARCs?’
“No, the hackers.”
“Oh. It’s hard to tell. All I know is that they had a load of MARCs locked away in an isolated network and were probably doing something with them. Some of the ones here are different though.”
“Different how?”
“I don’t know, they’re just odd.” Graham stopped after hearing the noise outside again. “They’re more complex looking and seem much more unusual than I’ve seen before. Can I call you back?”
“No need, the other teams will be with you soon. Get it sorted as quickly as you can.” Aaron had yet to finish speaking before Graham lowered his arm and concentrated again on the door. Something was happening outside and it was drawing nearer to the entrance of the warehouse.
“Shall I go see?” Elliot asked.
Before Graham could answer back the door shot open and landed heavily against the wall. The sound had caught him off-guard and made him stumble back toward the table. Following the door’s abrupt opening came a man dressed in torn and ragged clothing. His face was slightly covered by an angular pattern of tattoos that framed his left eye and the side of his mouth. He was a much larger man than the one who spat in Graham’s face.
Elliot stood nearest to the man and froze, unsure of what to do, with his fists clenched by his side. He looked ready to attack, despite the man’s intentions still being unclear.
“Hey, you OK?” Graham asked.
With the question left hanging, the man walked away and began to study the large wall screen.
“Sir, please step away.”
Graham spun around on the spot and saw a line of police officers all standing in the doorway. Each of them had their rifles drawn and aimed squarely at the man’s back. Graham did as they said and cautiously, and lightly, stepped back. He waved to Elliot to tell him to do the same. Within a few steps they were in line with the police, Elliot to the left and Graham to the right.
