by AJ Vega
Chapter 18: Convergence
The smell that permeated through the air was a mixture of sweat, urine, and feces. It was only at times when he came back from the mines that he even noticed the odor. Normally, not only was he immune to the odor, but a contributor to it as well.
The guards accompanied him, along with the entire motley crew of prisoners, down the hallway of Thyle Prison where their cell homes awaited their return. Cedric Reigns, also once known in the hacker channels as “CrazyWold,” entered his prison cell. The door slammed shut behind him, signaling the end of the day and the hard labor he had endured earlier in the Martian mines.
Tomorrow, he would awaken from a nightmare-filled sleep to return to the mines and repeat the process. It had become so monotonous that he had stopped wishing for death. To wish for death would imply that he was alive, but he was lifeless zombie—a shadow of his former self. He would continue this process until he succumbed to one of the daily fatal accidents that occurred in the mines. The mines and his cell… his cell and the mines—nothing else remained.
He plodded toward his bunk, the weight of his body magnifying the aching muscles in his legs with every step. Dirty and stained sheets awaited him on the bed, with holes evident in the sheet fabric, all created by unseen critters. He would collapse into it; become one with the dirt and scum of his bed. Wrap himself in the foul sheets, let his body fall into slumber as the tiny critters ate away at the remaining fabric, and perhaps chew away at little pieces of himself as well; he did not care anymore. He was about to fall into the bed when he heard someone call his name.
“Package for you,” the delivery inmate announced, slipping a small box into his mail slot.
Cedric felt like ignoring it and collapsing for the night, but he was not expecting anything and his sudden curiosity invigorated him enough to grab the package. He inspected the small box. It did not have a return address, and it felt heavy. He tore the packaging off and opened the box.
“No way,” he whispered.
Inside the box, he saw a small terminal. Cedrick looked around quickly to make sure no one was watching, and then moved into the shadows, placing the terminal on his bed as he knelt down.
He switched it on and immediately the holographic screen lit up. A message came on with the hacker syndicate logo—a logo popularized by the infamous hacker freedom movement of the late 2070s. Beneath the logo, he saw a coded message, written in hacker-speak—something only the old-school hackers like CrazyWold would be able to understand:
To our brothers and sisters surfing the waves, to our brothers and sisters restricted from them, and in honor of those no longer living: welcome. This terminal is a gift from the new hacker movement, a means to unleash those suppressed behind the cages of the corporations, and the puppet governments who do their bidding.
Our message again is: welcome. Welcome to the movement. As we march ahead, our steps are unheard. As we surf the waves, our splashes are unseen. But the results of what we will accomplish will be in the face of all to see.
Welcome, brothers and sisters; we have a plan. More details will be coming. In the meantime, stay sharp and hide this terminal until we call on you. The movement is now beginning. Welcome.
Cedrick hid the terminal away, a smile creeping onto his lips. He then moved to the barred doors and looked across to one of the other cells. From it the occupant inside looked back at him. They nodded to each other. Cedrick turned to another cell, and another brother looked back at him, and they nodded to each other. That inmate in turn looked across to another cell, and that occupant gazed back and nodded. Cedrick pushed his face into the bars and looked down the corridor. He could see more small boxes being delivered to other cells.
The movement, indeed, had begun.