by Dan Wells
“Don’t remind me,” said Jaya. Her avatar today was an elf sorceress, her elegant dress hanging down in long, flowing lines. She threw her arm over her eyes in exaggerated despair, and the giant sleeve hid almost her entire body.
“I did my best,” said Anja, though her featureless gray avatar didn’t seem to move or even react as she spoke. “I begged, I pleaded, I even offered to start selling my clothes, but the earlier flights were completely sold out. And my dad will do almost anything for me, but he won’t reassign the company jet.”
Fang snarled, angry all over again. “What’s the point of a company jet if you’re not going to let your daughter pick up her friends in it?”
“It’s not my fault!” said Anja.
“Be fair,” said Jaya. “Her dad is flying us out for the tournament, just not early enough to go to the party.”
“The party is the part with Su-Yun Kho,” said Fang. “Screw the tournament.”
“The tournament is a big deal,” said Sahara. “This is our chance to impress the right people and get invited to a real league. We do this right and we can go pro—”
“I want to bring somebody to the party,” said Marisa, interrupting them all. They’d already had this argument four times, and she wasn’t going to sit through it all over again. Her friends looked at her in silent surprise, and she put on the biggest smile she could. “Two somebodies, actually.”
“Who?” asked Sahara.
“We’re not even cold in the ground and she’s already giving away our spots,” said Fang.
Jaya frowned. “Is this about a boy?” She smiled. “Of course it’s about a boy.” Her smile turned angry. “It better be about a boy.”
“Easy, there,” said Anja, “you’re going to hurt yourself.”
“I have too many emotions!” shouted Jaya. “Mari, just tell us!”
“Bao,” said Sahara, trying to guess. “And . . . I don’t know. That boy from a couple of weeks ago? With the hair?”
“Ooh,” said Anja, “I liked the boy with the hair.”
“Just let her talk!” shouted Fang.
They calmed themselves and looked at Marisa expectantly. She swallowed.
“Not Bao,” she said slowly, measuring each word as it came out, “and not the hair guy. I want to bring . . .” She paused again, mustering her courage, and then spat it out as fast she could: “The people I met yesterday.” She smiled again, though she felt more terrified than happy.
“The terrorists?” asked Sahara.
“They’re revolutionaries,” said Marisa.
“They’re criminals,” said Jaya.
“So are we,” said Marisa. “You broke into Zhang last month, and Anja tries to hack into Kwan, like, every week. Every single one of us is a hacker with multiple security violations.”
“But we don’t destroy anything,” said Jaya. “I was looking for patch data for a laundry nuli—those people from yesterday broke into Sigan’s network and trashed their payment system. Who knows what they’ve got planned next?”
“They want to bring the whole company down,” said Marisa. The girls gasped, and Marisa took a deep breath. “And I want us to help them.”
“Now you’re talking crazy,” said Sahara.
“I like it,” said Anja.
“Careful,” said Fang. “When Anja agrees with you, you know you’re on the wrong side of the asylum wall.”
“We’re not terrorists,” said Jaya.
“Revolutionaries,” Marisa corrected her.
“A revolution from what?” asked Sahara. “They’re a telecom company, not a dystopian regime.”
“Define ‘dystopian regime,’” said Marisa. “I spent all night reading up on Sigan—not just what they say they’re doing, but what they actually do, and what happens when they’re done. They’ve been taking advantage of eroded communication laws for over twenty-five years; they don’t just throttle speeds, they throttle information. Because they control who connects to who, and how, and where. Everything they’re doing to Mirador right now they’ve done to other cities and neighborhoods all over the world. They cut out competition, hike their prices, throttle their speeds, and worse. Communities lose money, which means they lose businesses, which means they lose jobs, which means they lose more money, and it never ends.”
“That doesn’t mean you destroy the company,” said Jaya. “You just find another provider. That’s what capitalism is all about. Come to Johara; we have plenty of service in LA.”
“Sigan owns all the hardware in Mirador now,” Marisa snapped. The other girls fell quiet, and Marisa looked at the floor, too emotional to dare meet anyone’s eyes. “I heard my parents talking last night—we’re going to lose our house, maybe the restaurant. We might have to move.”
“I’m . . . sorry,” said Anja. “You know I’d do anything I can to help—”
“I’m not asking for money,” said Marisa.
“You’re asking for revenge,” said Sahara. Her voice was cold. “That’s not who we are.”
“Hurting Sigan won’t keep another company from coming in and doing the same thing,” said Jaya.
“I’m not worried about that right now,” said Marisa. “I’m worried about my home, and my neighbors, and how everyone who has the power to do anything is just turning a blind eye. Look: I need to break into Sigan’s network anyway, because it’s the only way to find Grendel, and I can’t use the same trick that got me in the last time. The database is airgapped, which means we have to get inside the building to access it, and this party is inside the building. It’s our only chance.”
“You say that as if it actually makes sense,” said Sahara.
“I want us to mean something,” said Marisa. She looked at Sahara. “Sigan is doing something horrible, and no one is stopping it. We might be able to.”
“I want us to mean something too,” said Sahara. “I know I keep saying this, but the Forward Motion tournament can be the difference between obscurity and celebrity—and celebrity matters. It can take us from a bunch of nobodies to a bunch of somebodies; if we can hit the pro circuit here, that’s not just fame, that’s money. That’s influence. You can support your family without becoming a terro—” She corrected herself. “A ‘revolutionary.’ Mari, you almost got black-vanned by a security thug just for looking around in their network; if they catch you actually sabotaging their system, who knows what they’ll do to you.”
“So help me,” said Marisa. “We can do this.”
“It’s not worth the risk,” said Jaya.
“I don’t know,” said Fang. “Mari might have a point.”
Marisa looked at her in relief, then at the whole group. “That’s two of you who support me, and two who think I’m crazy.”
“I still think you’re crazy,” said Anja. “That’s why I support you.”
Marisa shook her head. “Let me at least tell you my plan.”
“Yes,” said Sahara, “definitely tell us the plan. But it had better be amazing.”
The four girls looked at her, waiting, and Marisa nodded. “Okay. The man I met yesterday is named Alain Bensoussan, and most of this plan is one he already worked out: find Sigan’s financial records, expose some international trade violations, and let Johara destroy them for us.”
“This doesn’t sound nearly as awesome as I’d hoped,” said Anja.
“I know trade violations aren’t sexy,” said Marisa, “but they’re effective.”
“Johara was accused of some trade violations last year in Nigeria,” said Jaya. “A local telecom called AirWave took over half our business there before we finally stabilized.”
Marisa nodded. “The government won’t step in, but another megacorp can do it for us if we give them enough ammunition.”
“So if Alain and Renata already have a plan,” asked Fang, “why do we have to do anything?”
“Because they can’t execute their plan without getting inside the building,” said Marisa. “If we give them your tickets, we can
hack a hard-line workstation while we’re at the party.”
Anja giggled with delight. “This just got awesome again.”
“Even if we can get to a workstation,” said Jaya, “how are we going to log in?”
“Sigan uses Gamdog 4.1 for their file system,” said Marisa. “Gamdog 4.1 has an overflow vulnerability we can use to bypass the login; I read about it on Lemnisca.te. They’re relying on the airgap to provide most of the security, as they expect the most dangerous hacks to come from outside the system.” She looked at Jaya intently. “This plan will work.”
“So now I have a whole new question,” said Fang. “If we can do it all ourselves, what do we need Alain and Renata for?”
“Alain knows what we’re looking for,” said Marisa. “We get him in, he does the job, boom.”
“It’s still too dangerous,” said Jaya. “It’s scary enough if they catch you online—how are you going to get away if they catch in person?”
“If they catch him, you mean,” said Sahara. “He’ll be the one doing the hacking, so worst-case scenario, we tell everyone we’re not a part of it—that we barely know him.” She looked at Marisa. “Which is true.”
“Agreed,” said Marisa, though she felt guilty for saying it. Alain had rescued her.
“Is there any chance Sigan will recognize you?” Jaya asked. “You barely got away from them yesterday—maybe it’s not smart to waltz right into their headquarters.”
“If they knew who I was, they’d have come to my house by now,” said Marisa. “The hack was done through an anonymous ID, and the only person who saw my face has been broken down for spare parts by now.”
“See, that doesn’t make me feel better,” said Jaya.
“I will not let this ruin the party,” Sahara insisted. “Robin Hooding a megacorp is all well and good, but this tournament means more—to all of us—than revenge. We have to remember that.”
Marisa looked at her expectantly. “Does that mean . . . ?”
“Yes,” Sahara sighed. “You’ve sold me on the hack, and on bringing in Alain and Renata.”
“Yes!” Marisa shouted, pumping her fist.
“But they’re on their own,” said Sahara firmly. “And if they do anything that could compromise the rest of us, I’m going to sell them out in a nanosecond.”
Anja smiled. “I love it when you guys do crazy stuff.”
“Not in real life,” said Jaya.
“But are you with us, Jaya?” asked Fang. “I’m in, but I don’t want to do this without everybody agreeing.”
“She won’t even be there,” said Anja. “Both of you will be on planes during the party, somewhere over the Pacific.”
Sahara shook her head. “Fang’s right, though—this could ruin all of us if even one of us gets caught, so we all have to agree.” She looked at Jaya. “Plus we might need some help from the outside, monitoring the security system or . . . I don’t know. But we won’t do it without you.”
“Oh, you’re definitely not doing it without me,” said Jaya. “I’m not going to fly all the way there just to visit you in prison.”
“So are you in?” asked Marisa.
Jaya grimaced, trapped in hesitation. Finally she nodded. “I’m in,” she said, “but I reserve the right to call this off the moment anything starts to go sideways.”
“Agreed,” said Sahara. “So: the first step is to figure out the layout of the building.”
“That’s the second step,” said Anja. “This is a live infiltration, so our first step is to talk to someone who specializes in live infiltrations.”
Marisa nodded. “We need to talk to Bao.”
TWELVE
Bao Behar leaned against a light post on a Hollywood street corner, staring at Marisa and Anja with raised eyebrows. “This is a joke, right?”
Marisa shook her head. “Nope.”
“You’re recording me for a segment on Sahara’s show,” said Bao, “like a big prank thing, right?” He looked around at the crowd of tourists gawking at Mann’s Chinese Theater. “You’ve hired some people to act like FBI agents and hide in the crowd, and as soon as I say yes we’ll all get fake arrested and I’ll freak out and Sahara will get like a million extra downloads or something. It’s the only explanation.”
“This is as real as it gets,” said Anja. “That’s why Sahara’s not here, because she doesn’t want her nulis to record this conversation. The nulis will also be our alibi during the party, because we’ll have video proof that none of us left the room.”
“I know it sounds ridiculous,” said Marisa, “but we’re really doing it, and we really need your help.”
Bao squinted in the bright LA sun. His mother and stepfamily—his stepfather and twin sisters—were Chinese, but Bao was half Russian, born in a slum in Novosibirsk. His father abandoned him and his mother when Bao was only two, and they’d survived on the street for nine years before coming to America. Every now and then Marisa thought she could see a hint of that desperate street-rat lifestyle still lurking behind his eyes. “You’re going to destroy an international megacorp,” he said dryly. His voice dripped with disbelief.
“We’re going to wound it,” said Marisa. “Maybe scare it out of the country, best case. That’s still worth it.”
“The worst case is that you all get caught, including me as an accomplice.” His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out to look at it—Bao was one of the only people Marisa had ever met who didn’t have a djinni, communicating solely through exterior devices. It struck her as unimaginably primitive, but he refused to do it any other way. He read something on the phone’s screen, then held it up for them to see. “I’m at capacity for this corner: one hundred dollars. You know what one hundred dollars will buy? Like, one and a half of your fancy salads.”
“Will everyone please let go of the salad thing?” sighed Marisa.
Bao started walking, and the two girls walked beside him. “This is where I am in life,” he said. “This is what I do. My stepdad can’t work, and my mom has to take care of him, so I support them and my sisters doing this: skimming micropayments from tourists’ djinnis. Everyone who shopped at that gift shop for the last couple of hours paid, on average, about twenty-five cents more than they thought, and all of that extra was collected through this phone onto a dummy account. I have to keep the amounts small so that nobody notices, and I have to keep moving so that anybody who does notice won’t find me. And if I do that in enough places, day after day and week after week, my family can eat and pay the rent.”
“I know it’s hard,” said Anja.
“I’m not telling you that it’s hard,” said Bao, “I’m telling you that I’m busy. My sisters help—and thanks to Mari hacking their IDs, they help a lot—but they spend most of their time in school and that’s where they belong. I’d rather they have a real life.” He waved the phone. “I’m out here doing this so they can stay in school, and if I stop coming out here because I’m in jail, my family will starve—or my sisters will have to drop out to start skimming full time, which I’d say is just as bad.”
“We can play the stock market,” said Marisa. Anja and Bao both shot her confused looks, and she hurried to explain. “That’s how Alain is financing his operation—we could do the same.”
“Who’s Alain?” asked Bao.
“He’s the criminal we’re working with,” said Anja.
“Revolutionary,” said Marisa.
“Please,” said Bao, stopping at the street corner. “He may have convinced you, but there’s not enough handsome in the world for him to sell me that line.”
“There’s a girl, too,” said Anja.
“She’s kind of scary, though,” said Marisa.
“Hey,” said Bao, “I like scary.” Marisa tried to read his expression, but his sunglasses made it impossible.
“Besides,” said Anja, “I’ve never even met them.”
Bao snorted. “You’re doing this with people you’ve never even met?”
&n
bsp; “I’ve met them,” said Marisa, “but I haven’t introduced the others because we don’t even know if they’ll agree to our plan. We wanted to talk to you first to see if it was even possible.”
The light changed, and they started across the street. “Let’s see,” said Bao, tapping the screen of his phone. “The KT Sigan building has eighty-two floors, helipad on the top, balcony garden on the seventy-seventh—”
“How do you know all this?” asked Marisa, craning her neck to get a look at his phone. “What are you reading?”
“Personal notes,” said Bao. “There is a reason you’re coming to me for advice.”
“So you’ve infiltrated Sigan before?” asked Anja.
“No, but I like to know my options. I’ve got notes on most of the major office buildings downtown, just in case. Most of it you can find online if you take the time, so I just . . . took the time.”
“You’re my hero,” said Marisa. “What else can you tell us about the building?”
“The elevators don’t go all the way to the parking garage,” said Bao. “They upgraded the main elevators about fifteen years ago, but the underground stuff they couldn’t replace for some reason. Building codes or something. So the garage elevators are the old style that only go up and down.”
“Will that help us or hurt us?” asked Marisa.
“Probably won’t affect you at all,” said Bao. “I’m just telling you what I know.”
“What about breaking in?” asked Anja. “Alain will have to slip away from the party, find a workstation, and have access for at least ten minutes, maybe as long as half an hour, to find and download everything he needs.”
“We assume,” said Marisa.
“Well,” said Bao, stopping on the sidewalk and staring at his phone. “It’s not impossible. I know that I could do it a lot more easily than any of you could, because the building has scanners all over the place.”
“They track where everyone is inside the building?” asked Marisa.
