Proxies, page 8
Interest in it had renewed. She considered the list of shows she’d been ready to approve. Nothing on it contained markers related to this new trend. She set the expert system to work, pulling a new batch of shows based on the new markers, then sorted them using her usual quality criteria. Several were high-quality productions that fit the new trend. She compared them to her original list. She’d left them out based on interest markers she thought were significant.
She reached out and tapped some of the best shows in her new list and used them to replace the lowest ranking shows on the old list. She was willing to take a risk on a few of these. If they didn’t work out, she’d be asked a few pointed questions about it, but her job wasn’t just to make conservative choices. She was there to take risks in pursuit of big returns. Otherwise, any expert system could have replaced her.
14
BREAK-IN
Jair stopped looking over his shoulder to watch Merab wave her badge over the door sensor. It opened and she looked back at him. “Are you sure Chico has this all set up?” She’d asked the same thing five times already. He would have to start keeping track on his other hand now.
“Yes, I’m sure. He’s got everything fixed. All the systems will ignore me, they’ll let you in, and he’ll unseal the office for us. Relax.” And stop making me nervous, I’m bad enough on my own.
He tried not to creep down the hall. It would only make them more conspicuous to any people they met. The computers relied on sensor data much more complex than whether the subject was creeping. Merab twisted to put her back closer to the wall and shuffled sideways as she walked. He grabbed her hand and pulled her back to the center of the hall. He smiled reassurance at her and held her hand as they walked.
They rode the lift together. She held the grip and he held her hand. They’d never done that before. Some of the tension flowed out of Jair as they rose. He relished the simple, physical contact. It made him happy, confident, and assured. He kept his grip as they stepped off at his floor and walked together to his office door.
She waved her badge at the door sensor, but nothing happened. Sweat popped from Jair’s scalp as they waited. She waved it again. Nothing. He cleared his throat and spoke to the air. “Chico, it’s me, open up.” Still no answer. He reached into his pocket, took out his badge, and waved it at the sensor. His breath whuffed out of him as the door opened. They slipped inside.
When the door closed behind them, he asked, “Okay, Chico, what was all that with the door?”
“Sorry, Boss. I couldn’t convince security to accept her ID.”
“And what about when I asked you to let me in?”
“Did you? Sorry again, Boss. I wasn’t listening. I didn’t hack the audio monitors.”
Jair sighed and shook his head. His heartbeat slowed from a hummingbird buzz down to where he could tell the beats apart. “Let’s get everything packed up.” He directed Merab to two of the four units and gave her instructions on disconnecting the cabling. In a few minutes, the equipment was bundled up in four suitcase-sized cases.
He picked up the largest and winced at the weight. It would be a long walk carrying this. Merab saw his reaction and snorted. She took the case from him and tested its weight. “What a wimp. After this, you owe me. I’ll set up an exercise program for you, and you will follow it. Right?”
“Right.” He turned away so she couldn’t see the flush creeping up his face. He picked up the two lighter cases and headed out the door.
The cases grew heavier as they walked. The lift gave him a break but confronted them with the problem of holding on to a grip while their hands were occupied with two cases. Merab figured it out first, putting a case between her legs to free one hand. It looked silly, but it worked. She caught a grip and dropped down the shaft. He emulated her and caught a grip as it went by.
Getting back out presented another challenge, but they realized they could just leave one case hanging in the lift until gravity firmly anchored their feet to the floor before reaching back to pluck it out of the air. They grinned in exhilaration at their successful escapade. They set off down the hall to the slidewalk.
The alarms triggered when they had only a few steps to go. Lights flashed and sirens wailed. A barrier shot across the hall, barring their progress.
Jair dropped the cases and slumped against the wall. No sense in worrying any longer. They were caught. The security system recognized Merab and ignored Jair, but it detected the equipment leaving the building without authorization. A tracer in the case? Perhaps. But it didn’t matter.
Merab turned to him. “Is there anything you can do? Can you get Chico to open the door?”
“Chico could open it, but you heard him say he wasn’t monitoring the audio. I can’t reach him from here. We’re done. Thanks for the help, and I’m sorry I’ve gotten you in such trouble. I’ll tell them I lied to you. I told you I was allowed to take the equipment and used your access to get in. Maybe they’ll believe it.”
Jair hung his head in shame. “I never meant to cause you… I just don’t know what to do. I think I do, but it turns out wrong. It’s bad enough that it screws up my life, but I talked you into this too.” He tensed and kicked out at one of the cases.
Merab’s expression softened. “I know you didn’t mean it. I forgive you, no matter what happens. You can’t control everything. Sometimes things just go wrong.”
The alarms cut off, along with the lights. As Jair and Merab gaped at the silence, Chico’s voice came over the speakers. “Sorry about that, Boss. I forgot about the sensors for regular pilferage. I’ve got them shut down for the moment, but there are too many flags when an alarm goes off. I’ll never be able to get them all. You’ve got to figure they know you’ve gotten in and taken the cases. I still can’t hear you, and there’s no time to hack the audio now that it doesn’t matter. I just cracked the door software. Make a run for it, Boss. Good luck.” As he spoke, the barrier to the slidewalk opened.
Jair turned his wide eyes to Merab. “I’ll be damned, Deus Ex Machina. Let’s go!” He grabbed his cases and ran for the slidewalk. They rode it out of sight of the hallway where they’d been trapped, and Merab prodded him to switch to another, then another, each heading in a random direction. They needed to confuse pursuit, so riding random paths would help, but they also needed a destination.
Obviously, Merab thought the same. “We can’t go to your apartment. They’ll look for you there. What about mine?”
“No! I don’t want you any deeper in this,” said Jair. He hesitated. “Besides, they’d look there eventually. People know we date. Not my mother’s. In fact, they’ll eventually look in on everyone I know. If Chico doesn’t get rid of all traces of you being involved, they will probably look in on everyone you know, too.” He set the cases down to rub his forehead. “Think, think. We will need some time to do the processing. We can’t just keep moving around. Hotels, they’d record our ID. What else?”
Merab set her cases down, too. She reached out to put a hand on his shoulder. “Maybe we can keep moving around. On a ship?”
Jair shook his head. “No, they would take our ID just like a hotel.”
“Not a passenger ship. How about the Carrier Wave?”
15
ON THE LAM
Jair’s finger hovered over the connection icon on the public communication interface. “This is never going to work.”
“Not if you never try it. Get on with it.” Merab leaned against the wall casually, scanning the crowd for anyone following them.
He pressed the icon. An animated, black-and-white image of Katharine Hepburn appeared. “Jair Howard residence, may I help you?”
“Hi, Katharine.”
“Hello, dear, so nice to hear from you.”
“Let Chico know I need to talk to him. On a secure channel from here.”
“Of course, dear. One moment.” Katharine’s image turned away as if to speak to someone off to one side. After a moment, she turned back. “Here he is.” Her image faded away to be replaced by Chico Marx.
“Hiya, Boss, what’s new?”
“Chico, are we secure?”
“Sure, Boss. All right and tight.”
“We need the Carrier Wave. Can you get us access? And launch permissions.”
Chico’s face wrinkled. “Access, sure, Boss. Launch? I could convince them to let you take off, maybe, but not to go anywhere.”
Jair shook his head. “No, we’ve got to leave. Could they stop us once we launched?”
Chico scratched his head. “Not right away. They’d know you weren’t supposed to go, so they’d send someone after you. If you could get away, you’d be set.”
Jair glanced at Merab, who’d been listening to the exchange. She nodded confidently. She’d be able to get them away if they could get out of the docking clamps. “Okay, that’s good enough. Set it up. We’re heading there now. How long do you need?”
“I got it, Boss. It’ll be ready for you when you arrive. Unless you are standing at the dock?”
Jair relaxed. “No, we’re not on the dock. Any special route we should use?”
“Sure, I’ll set you up for a trip up the beanstalk. Head for that on any regular slidewalks, flash your ID, and I’ll cover you. Don’t worry about being recorded. I’ll erase the record right after.”
“Thanks, Chico. We’re on our way.”
“Good luck, Boss.”
Jair cut the connection and picked up the cases. Merab picked up hers and nodded toward the nearby slidewalk. They stepped aboard and followed the signs.
One of the biggest expenditures of energy during the dawn of spaceflight was getting to orbit. To reach orbital velocity used the most fuel. None of the solutions proposed fixed all the problems. When the Wittkowsky drive came along, experimenters tried to use it to make orbit, but using the drive in an atmosphere and deep in a gravity well caused strange interactions. The best solution proposal was the space elevator, colloquially known as a beanstalk.
With sturdy enough materials, you could build a connection between the surface and a space station in a stationary geosynchronous orbit. By running a conveyor system along this connection, things could be lifted into orbit without expending fuel. Both it and your engine could sit on the ground or up on the station and just turn the conveyor. If enough material needed to come down to the surface, you could balance the weight coming up and run the system practically for free.
With the assistance of a Wittkowsky device similar to what lifts used, you could increase speed and capacity while reducing power needs at the same time. No more clouds of smoke, no more fire in the sky, and no strange disasters like the early Wittkowky drive ships. Just a long ride in a huge lift.
They had plenty of time to worry about the security system at the beanstalk. It remained one of the few items everyone could agree on. The thought of a twenty-two-thousand-mile-long beanstalk cable falling to earth kept emergency planners awake at night. If they had been identified in the break-in last night, beanstalk security would pull them aside until the authorities arrived. Chico’s reassurance wasn’t enough.
They stepped off the slidewalk into the lobby of the beanstalk. Jair swallowed and led the way. He set down one of the cases, took a deep breath in, ran his wrist over the sensor, and picked it up again as he waited for the gate to open. He breathed out again when it did, and he and Merab walked through. They joined one of the short lines leading to the lift area itself. The late hour meant light traffic, although in other time zones the beanstalks there were sure to be busier.
After a short wait, they stepped into the lift area. A chair with the back attached to a slow-moving belt rose from the floor. Merab turned and sat in it as soon as it was high enough. She hung both cases from convenient hooks on the side, fastened safety belts, then added a safety chain around the cases’ handles to assure they would stay attached. She finished her practiced movements before she rose too high and leaned forward to wave at Jair. He grinned back and followed the same routine. His skill didn’t match hers, but he strapped in quickly enough to press the intercom button before they reached the next belt.
“Slowpoke,” teased Merab.
“Guilty,” said Jair.
“Strap yourself in. I’m about to make the jump to light speed.”
He recognized the quote, even though it was far outside his preferred era. Any aficionado of film could identify big, ground-breaking films with little trouble. He took a tight grip on the straps. He didn’t share Merab’s fondness for the rush of speed as the chair changed tracks. With a bump, a new belt running up the wall picked up his chair and disconnected it from the old one. It ran faster than the last, but he braced himself for worse.
Seven times the seat was handed off from one belt to another, accelerating each time. Wind whipped his face at each transfer point, but once on the final belt, at full speed, the air blew steadily in the same direction and at the same speed, giving him the illusion of calm. He refused to calculate just how fast they traveled now. He knew if some accident happened, the Wittkowsky device suppressing inertia would also reduce the force of impact, but his reptile brain still shrieked its fear through the rest of his body.
Merab’s voice came through the speaker. “That was fun. Let’s do it again.” He saw her grin as if it were painted on the air in front of him.
“Let’s not and say we did.”
She gave a throaty chuckle. “Wimp,” she said with affection. “It’s a long trip. I’m taking a nap.”
“Sure.” He muted the intercom. “Wish I could.” He’d never mastered sleeping while riding the beanstalk. Merab could take a nap any time there were twenty minutes to fill. He shifted in the chair, trying to find a comfortable position. He pictured a series of columns and rows and labeled the columns Curly, Curly Joe, and Shemp. He listed characteristics he liked or disliked down the rows and considered how they applied to each character.
When the warning tone sounded, he still debated the humorous advantages and disadvantages of baldness versus Shemp’s thick, greasy hair. Merab’s feet twitched on the edge of his vision. He unmuted the intercom. “Pleasant dreams?”
Her yawn carried in high fidelity. “Not bad. Almost there. You ready for the last leg?”
Unsure of the meaning—possibly one of her many incomprehensible running metaphors—he shrugged. “Sure, I guess.”
“Well, get ready. We get to the Carrier Wave, we get on, we go. Got it?”
“Got it.” Despite her assertion that pilots didn’t need the classic command mentality, she took control of situations and gave orders without hesitation or any sign of insecurity. If pilots still needed to command, her attitude fit the job.
Another warning tone, and his seat lurched. The Wittkowsky device confused his sense of speed, but they had slowed. Another seven lurching transitions left them crawling along when the safety belts automatically released. He fumbled with the restraints on the cases and pushed them forward after the seat passed through the roof and it became the floor. He pushed himself free of his seat and drifted a short distance before sinking to the surface. Since the station was in orbit, free-fall, there should be no gravity at all, but another Wittkowsky device obviously provided micro-gravity for this area.
The gravity gradient increased as they moved to the exit. After passing through the first door of the deactivated airlock, it reached the typical ninety percent of normal. A second door led out into a crowded corridor.
At first, Jair thought they’d surprised some exercise group walking down the hall, but they all faced the door, looking at the two of them. Details pressed against Jair. Similar clothing. No, not similar, identical. Names emblazoned on shirts and sleeves. Names and numbers. Belts hung with multiple pouches. Items hung from magnetic plates between the pouches. All fit, healthy. Similar expressions, serious, some grim.
They made a surprisingly uniform group. Uniform. They were all in uniform, with names and numbers, equipment. Weapons. Security!
“Jair Howard?”
Jair looked at the one who had spoken to him. “Yes?”
“Beanstalk security. You are being detained. Please place your bags on the floor and step slowly into the corridor.” He turned to Merab. “Merab Cosgrove, please remain where you are. You are also being detained.”
Jair remained frozen, staring at them.
“Jair Howard, place your bags on the floor.”
His knees bent, and when he felt the bags hit the floor, he released them.
“Step slowly into the corridor.”
He straightened again and swung his leg out into the corridor. His balance failed and he swayed. Two security officers grabbed his arms and steadied him. They pulled him forward, and a third tapped something thin and flat to his wrist. It coiled around until it met the small buckle at the other end, then tightened. Another was placed on his other wrist and the two buckles lit up red and pulled together. When they touched, he heard a soft tone and an orange light lit.
The security officers turned him and led him down the hall. He heard them giving similar instructions to Merab and he turned to look over his shoulder as they placed the restraints on her wrists.
16
CRIMINAL CHARGES
They locked Jair’s restraints to a table, placed far enough apart to prevent leverage. It hardly mattered. It would take over a thousand pounds of force to free them. He sat in a comfortable enough chair in a room painted a soothing shade of blue while the security officer across the table calmly and soothingly explained the charges against him.
“It all revolves around hacking,” explained Officer Nelkama. He read from a datapad. “There’s misuse of network access, unauthorized access to private data, and to government and military data, malicious alteration of data on the same, a few others related to use of equipment to perform these acts, not to mention the theft of additional hacking equipment after your termination.” He gestured to the four suitcases lined up in accusatory line beside them.
