by Eliot Peper
“My people go through the heaviest vetting of any Commonwealth employees,” said Diana. “It’s an even more thorough process than our internal security teams. If Lowell does have inside people, they’re not in the intelligence division.”
“If I were after secrets, the intelligence division is precisely where I’d want to place a mole,” said Sofia, her voice as flinty as her survivor’s eyes.
There was subtext here, illegible but apparent, and Emily wondered what clandestine history the two women shared. Sofia had started as an entry-level engineer and earned every step up Commonwealth’s ladder with brilliance and tireless dedication. Diana had left a career in the American intelligence community to freelance for clients like Dag before Rachel had named her Commonwealth’s chief intelligence officer when the company declared independence. Did this friction reflect a cultural gap between the engineering corps that had built the feed and the political types who had gained sway as the company matured? Was it a power struggle between internal factions? Or was it personal?
“Look,” said Baihan. “Bodyguards aren’t the real issue here.”
“That’s right,” said Liane. “The real issue is how we get ahead of this. Lowell has us on the defensive. We need to figure out what’s next if we want to avoid more disasters. This was a near miss, and we won’t get lucky again. I’ll have my people interface with national attorneys general, review the best fit between our internal justice system and its territorial complements, and start laying the groundwork for either prosecution or retribution.”
Liane was Commonwealth’s general counsel. When Commonwealth apotheosized from company to sovereign power, she had gone from lawyer to chief justice. With few legal precedents at her disposal, she had pioneered the rules, processes, and systems the new paradigm required. Now she negotiated treaties as well as contracts.
“No,” said Baihan, his tone mild. “That’s not it either. This isn’t about whose people are most trustworthy, gauging the appropriate security measures, or even competitive intelligence.”
Baihan’s late boss, Eddie Hsu, had been the choreographer behind Taiwan’s geopolitical ascension. Eschewing official titles, Hsu had worked behind the scenes to relocate the UN headquarters to Taipei and reinvent the island nation as the clearinghouse of a new world order. Investing a significant portion of Taiwan’s prodigious sovereign wealth fund had earned him a seat on this board, and when Commonwealth became autonomous, he became the primary arbiter of its favor among the world’s nations. Baihan had been Hsu’s consigliere for years and when the old man passed, his apprentice took over.
Baihan smoothed his tie. “We’re talking about logistics and details. The real question here isn’t when, how, or what. The real question is why? Why did this situation develop in the first place?” He raised an eyebrow at Emily, and she noticed a small scar on his temple. “If we can believe what Ms. Kim here has to say, and we must remember that we have nothing but circumstantial evidence besides her word that any of this is true, despite the fact that her story implicates many well-respected principals, then we must wonder what drove these notables to risk their fortunes and reputations on such a gambit.”
Emily bristled. She didn’t want to be here any more than they wanted her here. But she was trapped between the certain knowledge that her presence would do nothing but hurt the people she loved and the fact that she could not abandon Javier yet again. And so here she sat, enduring the stares of these masters of the feed who politely ignored her injuries and bandages as they harnessed her story to their own ends.
“They made it pretty clear,” said Emily. “Their goal is to keep Commonwealth from laying its hands on those fortunes.”
“Indeed.” Baihan offered her an easy smile. “And can we blame them? Or, if we do blame them, can we really claim surprise? How many wars have started because aristocrats wanted to keep their assets from the mob? How many governments have toppled because they turned their most powerful citizens into enemies of the state?”
Baihan turned to Rachel, who had been sitting quietly throughout the entire meeting. Commonwealth’s matriarch was shriveled and insubstantial. Emily imagined that her intravenous lines were the only thing keeping the breeze from carrying her away like an autumn leaf. But she sat ramrod straight in her wheelchair, an obnoxiously handsome nurse at her side.
“Forgive me for my bluntness, Rachel,” said Baihan. “But we cannot afford the luxury of rose-tinted glasses. We are embarking on a delicate moment in Commonwealth’s own history. Someday soon, Sofia will take the reins.” Was that the slightest hint of sarcasm? “With so many balls in the air, we must make every effort to ensure the transition goes smoothly. It is not the right time to antagonize powerful incumbents. First, let us stay the course. Later, we can adjust it.”
“Later,” said Javier sharply. “Later, later, later. There is never going to be a perfect time to make the change the world needs. There will always be reasons for delay. I’ll win a sumo championship before oligarchs happily open their purses. It’s always going to be later. Meanwhile, global wealth inequality is worsening in a world where the feed has made everything global. Baihan alludes to history. Well, how many empires have fallen because the nobility hoarded everything for themselves, sparking popular rebellion? We jet around in private planes while residents of Sofia’s own hometown of Alba lack access to basic sanitation and millions of migrants flee floods, droughts, and rising sea levels. On a borderless planet stitched together by feed, nothing conceals the fundamental unfairness of some people owning almost everything while everyone else fights for the scraps. We’re all in the same sandbox now. Envy corrodes. Inaction makes our new paradigm less secure. This isn’t just a moral imperative—it’s self-preservation. If we want the feed to endure, if we want to make good on our promises of a better future for everyone, then we must pass this initiative as soon as possible. Earning the hatred of Lowell and his cohorts is an indicator of success, not a reason to drop the ball. There is no later. Transition is precisely the time to act.”
Sofia snorted. “Ah, yes. Javier has arrived on his moral high horse once again, calling on us to solve the world’s problems. Is that not the height of arrogance, believing ourselves to be saviors? I will not argue that including the carbon tax in our terms of service was a failure. Even declaring sovereignty had its perks. But all these political entanglements have enormous downsides and put our mission of building and maintaining the world’s information infrastructure at terrible risk. The feed’s greatest achievement is that it has become a utility, a basic human right. By leveraging our stewardship to further our own political ends, however noble they might be, we hold humanity hostage. We are not players—we are the playing field itself, and neutrality is the most sacred boon we can offer.”
“Political entanglements?” Javier was incensed. “What is the point of doing anything at all if not to make the world a better place? The feed’s success isn’t measured in ubiquity, but in whether and how it improves people’s lives. Neutrality is just another way of saying cowardice. You want the height of arrogance? How about claiming that anyone can be fair and objective. Playing fields make a lovely metaphor until the referee makes a disputed call.”
As the debate raged on, Emily wondered at the unified front Commonwealth presented to the outside world while its leadership team was so clearly at odds with itself. Were all exemplars of progress so bitterly conflicted? Diplomats are people who murder you politely. Before Lowell’s gambit, this council had tentatively signed off on Javier’s initiative. Now that was all going up in flames. It was precisely this conflagration that Javier had hoped to avoid by backchanneling to Diana, and yet it was clear she could never have kept it to herself without making herself a target of backlash.
Emily tried to untangle a few stray threads of the complex web of influence crisscrossing the table. Sofia would want to solidify her own base to ensure a smooth transition when she took over as chairwoman. Diana would not want to risk her network of ope
ratives or the pipeline of secrets they supplied. Emily had a hard time believing that Diana would want to supplant Sofia and rule directly, but there was clearly a fault line of some kind buried there. Baihan controlled many of Commonwealth’s key relationships with heads of state and might be looking to expand his purview, or even contest Sofia’s position. Liane seemed to want the impossible: a continuation of the status quo. Lowell, the elephant in the room, had his own plans for manipulating succession. And Javier . . . With his big ideas and public profile, Emily could see how Sofia might fear a coup from his camp. It was incredible that these leaders with all their conflicting interests had been willing to forgive Javier’s involvement with the hack all those years ago. Perhaps it hadn’t been forgiveness so much as savvy—maybe they preferred to keep their enemies close. Black-hat hackers often turned white hat, after all.
It was odd to be back in the middle of things, like a frozen asteroid on a wide orbit finally arcing into the inner solar system. Emily had started on the outer edges of fringe, clawed her way to the center of world affairs, exiled herself, and been thrust right back into the mix. The room spun ever so slowly around her and she couldn’t decide whether it was existential disorientation or the lingering aftereffects of concussion.
She had taken Javier’s hand, and he hadn’t pulled away. As he made his passionate case, she admired the brilliant boy who’d become her closest friend and confidant. I don’t give a shit about your precious honor. Was there even an infinitesimal sliver of a chance that there could be a life here for her to return to? Was that a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel or a mirage that led to further damnation? Was it worse to abandon your friends or your word? Could you even have one without the other?
Emily had no answers, but she yearned to aid Javier’s cause, to defeat Lowell’s coercion, to convince these power brokers that profit and scale and technical wizardry were secondary, just more arrows in the quiver for the only fight that really mattered, minimizing human suffering and maximizing human potential. Ultimately, that was what all those late-night debates around the fire on the Island had boiled down to. The problem was as simple as it was difficult. Even so, Emily felt strangely detached. Compared to the blood and sweat and visceral fear of the ring, this intellectual melee was abstract and ephemeral.
“Stop.”
Rachel’s voice was soft but carried the undeniable clarity of command. A smooth pink scar bisected one milky sightless eye. Her other eye blazed purple as it raked across the assembled courtiers. Thousands of wrinkles turned her face into a detailed topographic map, and Emily had the uncanny sense that if she could only orient herself within its anatomical geography, the secrets of the universe would be revealed.
Rachel coughed into a handkerchief, and even as the nurse made it disappear, they all saw the crimson stain on the white cotton. A century was a long time to spend on this earth, even for an empire builder. In her presence, they all seemed to be little more than bickering children.
“You have found a new peg for old arguments,” she said. “Rhetoric will not suffice. We need more data.”
CHAPTER 24
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Diana touched Emily’s elbow.
“Sure.”
As the others collected their things and broke off into side conversations, Diana led Emily to the roaring hearth at the far end of the hall. Three vizslas were curled up in front of the fire, two lean young pups and one graying old dog with cataracts. Diana knelt to greet them, and Emily followed her lead. The short amber fur was soft, and the dogs reveled in the attention, lapping at the petting hands.
Instead of taking the chairs, Emily and Diana rocked back onto the thick carpet, letting the dogs rest their heads on their laps. Diana gave Emily an appraising look that Emily returned. This was the woman who had helped Dag track down Emily and discover Javier’s exploit. She had succeeded not only in winning Dag’s heart but in becoming Commonwealth’s spymaster.
“So whaddaya think?” Diana raised her eyebrows. “Did the super-secret council impress you with its supreme wisdom and peerless decisiveness? Were you awestruck into eternal devotion?”
Emily guffawed before she could help herself.
“Right?” said Diana. “I mean the egos on these people. Sometimes I think a generously rolled joint and a good fuck should replace the aperitifs and small talk. It could really grease the wheels. I mean, I’m as guilty as the next gal of thinking I’m the shit, mostly because I am the shit, but it doesn’t mean I need to wax lyrical every chance I get.”
“I guess it takes a certain kind of person to actually win a spot on Commonwealth’s board,” said Emily.
“Sure, selection bias and all that jazz,” said Diana. “Dag told me that in ancient Athens, government officials were chosen by lot and not election. Apparently Athenians threw serious shade on elections because only candidates who want to win end up winning and, having won, go full Machiavelli. We fine folks”—she tossed her head to indicate the group behind them—“aren’t even elected, so I tell Dag he should cut us some slack.” She winked. “But then again, you don’t really need a lesson in power corrupting, or in Dag’s personal interests, do you? I mean, you’re the expert.”
“Do you prefer the view from Langley or San Francisco?” asked Emily. “Or maybe it was more fun to run black ops for the highest bidder? Surely a woman with as many secrets as you can share at least a few.”
Diana’s laugh was a bright tinkle against the crackling thunder of the fire. “See, Phil?” She rubbed the dog’s belly and he kicked his leg in hedonic pleasure. “I knew I would like her.” She looked back at Emily, brown eyes sparkling. “I hated you at first, you know. Dag was obsessed, obsessed. You had cracked his feed, spent years tweaking his standard of beauty to match your own damn face just to create an edge. I mean, that’s seriously fucked up, dude. But I gotta say that it was refreshing once I actually found out what you were using that prime-time exploit for. You guys were arguably more effective at advancing the ball on social change than all the charities of the world put together, and certainly more than Washington. Plus, as a total nerd for secrets, y’all had a gold mine. Root access to the feed? I get wet just thinking about it. Good guys doing bad things for good reasons. Ends justifying means justifying ends, your scheme was a philosophy professor’s worst nightmare. And then zap, Dag blows your operation, and you disappear off the face of the earth. I mean, Javier doesn’t know where you are, and not even my own spooks can find you. That’s some A-plus hide-and-seek shit. Now you’re back with a whole new bag of tricks that are throwing everyone into a serious tizzy. Brava, brava.” She golf-clapped. “You, Ms. Kim, are a conundrum.”
“If I ever decide to live a more public life,” said Emily, “remind me to have you write my bio.”
“Yuck,” said Diana. “A public life? Gods forbid! The feed doesn’t need more self-aggrandizing loudmouths. If there’s one thing this age has a surfeit of, it’s narcissists. Can you imagine how hard my job would be if people didn’t go around blabbering about themselves all day long? Don’t ruin this enigmatic thing you have going.”
“Speaking of enigmatic things, what’s going on between you and Sofia?”
“Oho, we go way back.” Diana’s sober glance belied her facetious tone. She paused, as if considering something, then said, “I helped her and her family get their American visas when they fled Italy.”
Emily did the math. That had been during Diana’s tenure at the three-letter agencies. “So the asset is finally bucking the case officer?”
Diana’s smile was melancholic. “Bucked. Some wounds take a long time to heal, as it appears you’re well aware.”
Emily pushed her glasses up her nose and stared into the fire. Niko, previous challengers who had fallen in the ring, friends from the streets of LA, her mother and father . . . the dead peered back through the flames, trying to snatch glimpses of the world they’d left behind forever.
“Does he have a chance?” Emily’s
voice dropped and softened.
Diana scratched Phil behind the ear and the dog arched his neck and lolled his tongue. She was silent for so long that Emily started to think she might not have heard the question.
“I honestly don’t know,” Diana said at last. “It was a hard road getting enough soft commitments to pass this kind of an initiative in the first place. Commonwealth is the first organization in history with enough information and clout to actually implement a truly global wealth-redistribution scheme. It would be a first-of-its-kind experiment and many, many powerful people don’t want to see that experiment happen. It’s not just Lowell. Every person around that table has supporters lobbying them to call it off. Javier already has all his cards on the table, and this complication could very well be the straw that breaks the camel’s back. I don’t like it. I mean, he’s right. Money is just one form of power, and the more centralized power becomes, the nastier the fallout when the pendulum swings back. Civilizations used to be isolated, parallel experiments. If Rome fell, Beijing might still thrive. The feed wove everything together, and now this is the only civilization we’ve got, which means disaster will be universally disastrous. But you’re not the kind of person who likes to see the world through rose-tinted glasses, and the reality of the situation is that it’ll be much easier for everyone to defer this kind of political hot potato. After it’s been delayed once, well, you know how these things go.”