The Doorkeeper's Mind

by E. L. Morrow

  Because Marie had not yet received her communicator from her previous home, she had to improvise by commandeering the information screen in the PIC pod. Use of a public device meant that the eight onlookers had to be sworn to secrecy about the names. Before they could let the event go, they agreed to meet again in a year, to retell the story.

  Transportation provides a dedicated pod for the event. It picks up seven of the people who were on board at the same stops as the first time. One is in the hospital, and Marie is out of state. The others are on board as the pod moves to the same siding where all the activity had occurred. The screen comes on with Marie’s image as she speaks.

  “Hello, friends. I can hear you, but I can’t see who is there.”

  All seven identify themselves, including Ann and Thelma. Ann was with Marie on their way to meet Vivi and pass on a research package. Thelma began spreading stories about “the angel on the bus.”

  Later Thelma was inducted as “an angel” to help her focus on her health and looking for places to do good—always with the help of others. Thelma was instrumental in preventing the kidnapping of a Financial Sector worker by the same people who took Marie’s predecessor.

  But the reason for today’s reunion is to remember what happened and see how the story has changed. After a bit of catching up the subject turns to what happened this time last year.

  “What have you heard about the incident?” asks Marie.

  “I heard that you popped out of the screen, then it changed to the house.”

  “My friend at church said the pod went into the house and we took her to the hospital.”

  “The consensus, in my bridge club, is that an alien knocked us out and put the memory in our minds.”

  When those on board told what they remembered it was summarized “A brave young woman saved two lives, and reminded us that all this passive surveillance serves a positive purpose.”

  Marie informed them that the woman who was injured is now in graduate school studying counseling.

  Forty-Five

  This is Not a Drill

  At age 32, Dr. Timothy Byers Thompson was at the top of his field. With two Ph. D’s, one in Forensic Digital Analysis, he was in demand as a speaker, analyst, and instructor.

  Ten years later, he had resigned himself to a mediocre career as an Assistant Professor of Software Development and Diagnostics, at a mid-sized university in a Non-Structured State. That changed when he decided not to attend another boring seminar on subjects he could teach better than the presenters.

  His wife (she never used the accepted term of mate) was to be out of town on work the same days as his conference. He thought it would be an excellent opportunity to reassess his life and options. He planned one last time to look in the Unstructured States for a position offering some hope of advancement—or at least not allow his intellect to atrophy. Plan B was to scour the available possibilities in the Structured States. Of course, he would need to convince his wife they could live under the limitations imposed by the structure of the planned economy.

  Arriving at home unannounced for the first time in their 23-year marriage he found his wife not out of town on business but in bed with two men. To add insult to injury, one of them was his friend since college and current boss.

  In the ensuing confusion, wife and boss tried to explain. “It’s no big deal; we’ve been doing it since before grad school; it never made a difference for you.” Words were spoken about love, promotions, and his joining them in four-ways.

  Without uttering a response, Tim took two large suitcases from the closet, packed everything he owned, and dropped the house key on the table. At his office he retrieved his files and computer, dropped his office keys on his desk, and left a voicemail resignation for his Department Head, Dean, and President. He indicated that his former boss and best friend could provide the most complete explanation for his departure.

  Twenty-four hours later he was in Philadelphia, meeting with an Intake Transfer Specialist. His credentials were examined as they looked for work appropriate to his skill set. The only thing available was a Night Shift Electronics Supervisor with the Financial Sector. He took it.

  2095-09-14, Philadelphia

  That was seven months ago. After a few weeks of feeling sorry for himself and angry at … well, pretty much the entire world … he decided to use the time to reboot his career. Each evening there are long intervals when no regular work is required. Dr. Thompson uses these hours to work on his projects.

  Analysis of computer codes and attempts to hack has always been his passion. Three weeks ago, he decided to practice by running a review of the new Financial Systems Upgrade expected to come on line October 1st.

  Its three-fold purpose is stated as 1. Reduce posting errors. 2. Add additional security to individual accounts. 3. Catch discrepancies in cost-covering adjustments.

  The first thing he noticed about the modification was its size (680 Petabytes). It seemed more massive than necessary to accomplish the task. The standard analytical algorithms reveal nothing of significance. A few years back, Dr. Tim had developed his own analytical tools including unique algorithms to detect hacks and potentially toxic code.

  After applying his interpretive techniques, he found more than a dozen deeply suspicious sections. After two nights of work, spilling a bit into the morning hours, Dr. Tim sent a full report to his superiors.

  2095-09-16, 2:30 am EDT

  Financial Oversight Supervisor 7377 called at the beginning of his shift saying, “First, I appreciate the initiative you are taking. However, all software upgrades are scrutinized by verification teams of a hundred or more experts. Surely, they would have found any such discrepancies. You pointed out that nothing shows up with a standard analysis. I suggest you let it go.”

  “But Supervisor, I came from an Unstructured State where hackers still attempt access to sensitive documents. Consequently, I developed my own resources to get inside and find errors. This was the basis of my consulting work. Anyone trying to hide their true intentions will know how to pass the standard checks. They can’t evade my tools because they don’t know about them.”

  “Well, that’s another thing. Your analysis tools are not tested and approved by the Electronic Quality Control Standards Team.”

  “I appreciate your position. But think of how bad it will be for both of us if my worst-case scenario comes true and we do nothing to stop it?”

  “I’m convinced there is nothing to your concerns. Even if you are right, it will be corrected when the system is tested on September 20th.”

  “That is only four days away. I didn’t see any announcement about a provisional test. When the code is activated, it will invade the existing program and replace the determinate controls with its own.”

  “Again, that is if you are correct. Well, since you do have some time and we should always err on the side of caution, I’m authorizing you to use any of the recognized outside contractors. The list is on your console under that title. Keep us advised.”

  “Thank you. I hope you’re right, but I can’t see how I could be this wrong.”

  He started working through the list of 14 names. Tim spends every available minute calling, explaining, cajoling, arguing, and being dismissed. At 2:30 am, with the test only eight and one-half hours away Dr. Tim finds himself looking at the last name on the list. “I better make the call.”

  Near Seattle

  2095-09-19, 11:30 pm PDT

  Rudy Carlton’s special communicator sounds. He retrieves it reading the call data.

  He thinks, “Not from Marie—that’s good. It’s a call for Franklin Adams, my electronics expert alias. I’ll tell them I’m booked solid and retiring next month. My usual cover. It’s from a T. Thompson, Financial Service Center, Philadelphia.”

  Rudy answers the call, “Franklin Adams ….”

  Dr. Thompson interrupts, “Before you say anything let me tell you—I need your help. If I�
��m wrong, I’ll pay double your regular fee. If I’m right and you don’t help me, this time tomorrow there will be no economy. It will impact the US, Canada, and I have no idea how far it will reach. You are my last hope—our last hope.”

  “Talk to me!”

  Wichita

  2095-09-20, 3:20 am CDT

  My portalock is signaling. The windmill shape is lighted. An emergency; I’ll call the coded number mother taught me. A regular number plus four digits.

  “Emergency. Move to your assigned safe zone immediately.”

  What safe area, I don’t have an assigned place. I’ll call Allison.

  “Hello gr-r-r-i-i-al-l …” It’s The General’s voice. “Glad you called. Now you can say goodbye to mommy and listen to her die. If you had just died when I wanted you to maybe she could have lived. But N-o-oo! You had to resist. So, say farewell.”

  Allison voice in the background, “Run Marie! (cough cough)”

  NOOOOO!

  “Marie wake up! You appear to be having a cardiac event; Medical Services are on the way.”

  That voice is Friend, my PA. It is only a dream. Oh God No. It’s a dream. Sitting up she says,

  “Friend, call Rudy.”

  “Calling … His number is busy.”

  “Keep trying his number.”

  “Affirmative.”

  Grabbing her communicator Marie keys in a number Rudy gave her to use if she is unable to reach him. It’s one of his associates at Not-A-Dozen Security Services.

  The line is answered by a woman in her 30’s, “Not-A-Dozen.”

  “Today is the twentieth. I’m trying to reach a founder of your organization whose name begins with S. Are you aware of who I mean?” When using an unscrambled-line, S stands for “Rudy” on even numbered days. He’s “Q” on odd numbered days.

  “Understood. He’s at another location.”

  “I tried there; busy signal. What about I or E?”

  “I’ll check … both unavailable. Perhaps I can help?”

  Marie’s PA announces the admittance of Medical Assistants. Phoenix, her Corgi, leads them to her and stands guard. Without interrupting her, the two men she knows begin checking her vitals.

  She continues on her PCD, “We need a scrambled line.”

  “Are you N?”

  “Yes.”

  “Scramble code 285.” She sets the device to 396 (the number spoken, adding one to each digit).

  Marie tells the medics, “I had a frightening dream and awoke in a panic; I think I’m fine now.”

  Medical 14 responds, “Heart rate and respiration both returning to normal.” They continue to check for possible toxins or allergic reactions even as she answers the call.

  “Thanks for calling.” A code phrase telling the caller the conversation can be overheard. They will continue to use plus-one initials.

  “Now, how can I help?”

  “I had a dream that S’s associate ‘B’ is in mortal danger.”

  “Checking … she is at the center. Security personnel are on duty. I’ll alert them of a possible threat. Can you say more about the threat?”

  “Widespread disaster. I connected to B, and she was murdered by the notorious H.”

  “I assure you there has been no unusual activity noted in or around the center, or the surrounding area for several weeks.”

  Hearing this, Marie has a flash of insight. I think I know what is going on.

  “Thanks, I’m reassured. When you hear from any of the people I mentioned, ask them to call me—urgent.”

  “I will keep on it.” They disconnect.

  Marie keys in the number for Dr. Norris, her supervisor and says, “Friend, is anything happening in the next 24 hours that might negatively impact the economy?”

  The PA admitted Danzella and Lexie in the last few minutes.

  Before either can ask what to do, they are told.

  “Lexie, get on the console and check for any unusual activities in our sector, or around the Financial Sector buildings. Danzella, Rudy is talking to someone on his communicator see if you can find out who.”

  Dr. Norris answers groggily, “Hell-low.”

  “Sorry to wake you, supervisor. I had a dream in which our mutual friend on the west coast is murdered. She’s unharmed at the moment. It all started with the windmill icon lighting on my portalock, and I was told to go to my ‘assigned zone.’ Is there any protocol about that icon?”

  “No, if it goes off, call the expanded number, which I’m sure you have committed to memory, and follow the instructions. As for any preassigned location, that would have to come out in prior memos if signs pointed to an impending disaster. Tell me more about your dream.”

  Marie briefly describes the dream but then adds, “You remember BF said there was something in place that would take down the economy? I think that is what my dream is about….”

  Her Personal Assistant interrupts, “Three companies authorized to do business in the structured economy will change ownership today. There is also a test of the new Financial System Upgrade set for 11:00 am CDT today.”

  Danzella says, “Rudy is in conversation with a Financial Sector Night Clerk in Philadelphia. He has been on the line for over two hours.”

  Lexie adds, “Three workers without a scan-able ID used the service entrance of the Financial Sector Building 4 at 9:03 pm, and have not exited.”

  Marie responds, “The software must be it.”

  Dr. Norris says, “I’ll contact Calhoun.”

  Forty-Six

  What Does Dr. French Know?

  Cyclops Institute

  2095-09-20, Tuesday, 3:15 am PDT

  Whether asleep or not, Dr. Allison Ward remains alert for a call. This practice of light sleeping started when Marie entered college. They understood she could be in danger. Rudy, Cyclops’ Security Chief, established protection around her to minimize the risk but Allison stays alert anyway.

  The communicator sounds; Allison checks; it is not her daughter or anyone in Wichita. Instead, the call comes from the Neuro Center, three miles away.

  “Allison Ward.”

  “Sorry to disturb you at this hour but Dr. French’s behavior is erratic. He’s never been like this before. He’s flailing his arms, pacing around and saying no, no, no, stop, stop it. He wants Dr. One-eye; his name for you. The records indicate we can call you any time.”

  “Not a problem. Something must be upsetting him. Any idea what?”

  “He gets up every morning about 2:30 and watches the news for about two hours and then goes back to bed. Usually without a word, unless he wants some juice.

  “But today he started this erratic behavior after only a few minutes.”

  “Is he there?”

  “Yes, he’s still pacing. He appears afraid as much as agitated. I don’t think he’s a threat to anyone. I hate to see him like this.”

  “Tell him; I’ll be there for lunch.”

  The attendant, John, tells Dr. French, who immediately screams. “NOOOOO! Too Late … Must come NOW! All Gone! … Come Now.”

  Back to Allison, the nurse says, “All Gone. I’ve never heard him say that before. I can call the attending for some sedation.”

  “No! Don’t do that. I’m on my way. Don’t give him anything. Understood?”

  “Agreed.”

  “Let me talk to him, please.”

  “That may help.”

  Assuring Dr. French, she says, “I’m coming now! Try to relax so they won’t give you anything to make you sleep.” Allison is on her way with Harris riding security. Dr. Robert Hildegard French is actually Phillip Clarence Walton, who was kidnapped, placed in a deep coma, then put in the Central Viewing Center for the recently deceased. The kidnappers planned to awaken him, making him think he was dead, and get him to report to God about things he would not divulge to their interrogators.

  The deep coma was badly managed; when revived severe brain damage w
as apparent. Allison took charge of the case and had him moved to the Neuro Center specializing in this type of brain recovery. Being near her research center and directed by a colleague made this the logical placement. Since Phillip is officially dead, the name was changed to prevent further attempts on his life. Only eight people know the true identity of Dr. French.

  Arriving at 4:00 am, she begins trying to discover the cause of his anxiety. He gestures toward the viewing device saying, “Stop it! Must Stop it.” Allison convinces the attendant to rerun the channel he was watching when his agitation started. After 10 minutes of the financial news, the announcer says:

  “Individual accounts will be inaccessible today from 9:00 am to noon. The Financial Sector is testing new software to manage the records for the whole economic system.”

  Dr. F is hopping up and down, pointing at the screen and saying. “No! Stop it.”

  Allison remembers something Marie told her about an encounter with Bluefoot.

  “You think the ‘test’ will be a problem.”

  “Yes! … it … will… take everything.”

  “You mean all the money.”

  “Yes!”

  “But how can we stop the test?”

  “Must … think. Must … remember.” He seems to be murmuring; talking to himself. His pacing has slowed. His action is much more purposeful.

  Allison says, “Give him time and space.”

  Near Seattle and Philadelphia

  2095-09-20, 5:50 am PDT

  For more than six straight hours, Rudy and Dr. Timothy Thompson have been working on the software upgrade for the Financial Sector due to be “tested” at 9:00 am Pacific Time. After about two hours Rudy revealed his actual name, location, and specialty. He did so only after a complete background check on Thompson, with the aid of two friends at Not-A-Dozen Security.

  What their analysis found matches Thompson’s previous conclusions. At 1:30, they began talking to Philadelphia Financial Sector’s Supervisor. He said, “I’m sure you are missing something, but I will contact a Financial Services Public Face Guidance Board member. They are the only ones who can delay the test.” Guidance Committees for each Sector are confidential; however, there are always a few members with specific responsibilities who are available for contact. The “Operations Oversight Officer” was contacted.