Sunfall

by Jim Al-Khalili

  Shireen answered quickly, as though she had been expecting the question. ‘And would you have believed me if my avatar had popped up in your AR space? Hi, I’m Shireen and I’m a cyberhacker who has a secret to share?’ When Sarah didn’t reply she continued. ‘Can’t you see? Anyone could have done that. You’d have thought it was fake and ignored me. And I couldn’t risk just sending you the files in case they got intercepted. I had to come in person, to deliver the files to you physically. And, yes, since you mention it, I’ve risked everything to get here.’

  ‘But why me? If you were so desperate for this information to get out, why not simply release it?’

  ‘And what do you think would have happened then? It would have made no difference if it had gone viral and been seen by a billion people. Whoever is behind this is powerful enough to have immediately discredited the story as fake and replaced it with a watertight counter-narrative. So, I needed someone who would be believed – someone who couldn’t be silenced. Someone who cared as much about the truth as I do.’

  ‘But you don’t even know me,’ whispered Sarah loudly, and jerked her head around quickly, realizing she could have been overheard. But the woman by the mirror had now left and the other was still in a cubicle. ‘How dare you presume what my motives might be and try to involve me in whatever this is about.’

  The second woman emerged from the cubicle and walked over to wash her hands. Sarah waited silently until she had left and they were alone again, then turned to Shireen and sighed. ‘OK, give me something to go on. What’s in these files?’

  Shireen began to speak quickly, picking up her well-rehearsed speech where she’d left off. ‘I follow the news. I know about the threat of the weakening field. I know you sit on a powerful UN committee that’s looking into it. But as far as I can tell you’re not a politician and you don’t serve any political interests. So, you’re the only person I can hope to trust to get this information out. The data I’ve sent you show that the recent measurements of the Earth’s magnetic field have been tampered with. I don’t know who’s behind it, but there’s been some cover-up.’

  Sarah stared at her. What the hell was that supposed to mean? ‘If this is some sort of ridiculous conspiracy theory bullshit—’

  Shireen tapped her wristpad. ‘You need to see the files. Please, Dr Maitlin. I have them here—’

  ‘Wait a minute.’ Sarah felt a rising panic. ‘Before you implicate me in this, this … whatever it is, I’ll ask you again. You mentioned the UN committee I’m on, but there are plenty of people who are more powerful and better placed than me to go public with your information. Dr Gabriel Aguda for one – he’s a geologist after all and he understands a lot more about the magnetic field measurements. So, why me?’

  Shireen was nodding vigorously, as if she had anticipated Sarah’s response. ‘A mixture of gut instinct and logic. I needed someone who couldn’t possibly have been involved in the cover-up. I’m not saying that Aguda is part of this – it’s just that, well, you’ve just joined that committee, so I knew you would be, um, clean.’ After the briefest of hesitations, she added, ‘Also, I feel I can trust … another woman.’

  Sarah wasn’t sure how to respond. But Shireen hadn’t finished. ‘The files can only be accessed by me biometrically. But I’m now copying them over to your Cloud space. I had to do it this way – only by meeting you physically could I get them over to you directly. Any other route would risk interception. Now please, I beg you, look at them. You will understand why they need to be released to every organization, media outlet and scientist you can think of, as quickly as possible. I don’t know how much more time we have before it’s too late and I’m silenced.’

  Sarah tapped her wristpad and saw that several folders had been downloaded. Each looked like it contained many files.

  She was aware that Shireen was still staring at her intensely, but knew she didn’t have time to look at the files now. She quickly checked the time. ‘OK, I have to go. But how will I be able to get in touch with you?’

  ‘You can’t. But, maybe you can help secure my release from custody. As soon as this goes public it will be clear that I am in New York.’ Then she added, almost too quietly for Sarah to hear, ‘And I am too tired to keep running.’ All the intensity in the girl’s manner just a minute ago now drained away, as though a fire had just gone out in her eyes. That scared Sarah more than anything Shireen had told her – that she must have risked so much coming this far to entrust her with information, while knowing for certain that she would be arrested for doing so. What the hell was in those files?

  Sarah didn’t know what else to say. She nodded at Shireen, turned quickly and walked out.

  Her car was waiting outside the hotel entrance. As she walked out to it she ran through the strange encounter again. The young cyb had clearly been through a lot just to get these files to her. She might well be a completely deluded conspiracy theorist convinced about yet another ridiculous global cover-up, but there was something about her that Sarah recognized: an intelligence and defiance in the girl’s eyes that reminded her of her own young self.

  As soon as she was alone in the car and it had pulled away from the kerb, Sarah opened the files and began to scan them. There were three separate folders, each containing hundreds of documents. Some of these were data files, some were graphs, some were images showing colour-coded maps of magnetic field strengths around the Earth, and some were reports, in both Chinese and English. But only half a dozen or so were marked as priority. They had been flagged by Shireen and gathered together in a bundle under the heading ‘READ THESE FIRST’. She worked her way through them with growing shock, trying to digest the information as quickly as she could.

  As she did so, she started running through her options. Of course, this might all be completely fabricated. It would be a simple matter to concoct such a story, with bogus data and fictional reports, something a cyber group intent on causing disruption would be more than capable of doing.

  But what if this was the real deal?

  No, she decided, what she was looking at was genuine: these were raw satellite data stretching back over the past two years and they flew in the face of what Aguda had told her a week ago in the diner. Equally shockingly, there were reports making it clear how the data should be changed so that the officially released statistics gave quite the opposite result: that field measurements in the southern hemisphere showed regions where the magnetic field was gaining in strength, rather than weakening, in readiness for a pole reversal, probably sometime later this year – something these files suggested wasn’t going to happen.

  Well, whoever was behind this – and she guessed it had to go far up the chain of command – had lied to Aguda and the rest of the world.

  Damn it, Aguda, are you in on this too? Oh, what the fuck have I got myself mixed up in?

  She looked out of the car window to get her bearings. She was passing Central Park on her left. It was beginning to snow but she was too deep in thought to notice.

  She went over the ‘facts’ again. The satellite data had been tampered with, that much seemed clear. In fact, it seemed that the original measurements contained in these files showed unequivocally that the field was getting weaker … everywhere. But that was just crazy. If the Earth’s magnetic field was really dying … No, that was too horrifying to contemplate.

  As a scientist and now a member of a highly influential UN committee, she knew it would be utterly irresponsible, not to mention dangerous, to make this information public without checking its validity carefully first. On its own, of course, the data would not have meant much to a non-scientist. But there were other documents and emails, from anonymous senders to equally anonymous recipients, demanding emphatically that the original data be buried.

  She knew she had to do something, to trust someone. The obvious choice was Aguda. He would, she hoped, know what to do, and who else she could trust.

  She attached a few of the files to a brief voice message, exp
laining her meeting with Shireen, and pinged it to Gabriel. She was taking a huge risk with this and couldn’t be certain about Aguda’s trustworthiness. Nor could she be sure the files wouldn’t be intercepted on the way to him. After everything Shireen must have gone through to get the files to her … But what else could she do? Who else could she turn to? She slumped back in her seat and waited for a response. While she did so, her mind drifted. There had been just two occasions in her life when she had experienced this deep feeling of foreboding. One was nine years ago, when her mother had been diagnosed with advanced Hodgkin’s lymphoma. The other was when she was fourteen and had been called into the headmistress’s office at school to be told that her brother Matt had been in a road accident. On both occasions, her anxiety had eventually turned to relief. Somehow, this time she didn’t believe there would be a happy ending.

  A thousand questions tumbled over each other in her head. How widely did this conspiracy stretch? Who knew about it? How many countries had been colluding to keep this information from getting out? And, most importantly, why? What possible good would come of hiding the truth? Was it simply to avert mass panic while the authorities dealt with the crisis? I have to think sensibly about this. I’m part of the establishment now, not some disillusioned cyber anarchist trying to bring down corrupt global powers. Shit.

  The car glided along silently. She rested her head against the window pane, briefly enjoying the refreshing coolness of the glass against her temple. Her heart was racing and her stomach was churning. She thought about scanning the web for more information, but quickly dismissed that idea as a waste of time.

  Just then, her wristpad pinged and Aguda appeared on her AR feed. He was dressed in a tuxedo and at first she hardly recognized him. So, he was going to the reception too, or most likely he was already there. He looked more solemn than she had ever seen him. She tapped her pad to connect and instantly the cameras in the car picked her up and linked with her feed.

  ‘Hello, Sarah. I see from your surroundings that you are on your way here. Please don’t do anything until you arrive. I will meet you and we can discuss this in private properly.’

  ‘No, just tell me please, did you know about this?’

  There were a few seconds of silence, as though he were weighing up different options. Then he said, ‘Yes, Sarah, I did know. I’m afraid I lied when I told you the field was regaining its strength. But please, can this wait until you get here when I can explain more carefully?’

  Sarah felt sick. ‘Damn it, Gabriel, if you’re in on this, what’s to stop me from just sending this information out, right now, before I get to you and you talk me out of it, or, or God knows what? I mean, does everyone else on our committee apart from me know the truth – that the Earth’s magnetic field is fucking dying and not getting ready for the Flip at all?’

  ‘No, Sarah, not everyone. And please try to stay calm and not do anything you’ll regret.’

  But she couldn’t help herself, her indignation and fury growing by the second. ‘How could you deliberately keep this from me? Everything we’re putting in our report is to do with temporary measures to deal with the consequences of a weakened field for a few months. Not this – not the end of the fucking world!’

  Aguda nodded sympathetically. ‘Look, I know what you must be thinking right now. But I’m asking you not to do anything rash. Please.’

  Sarah took a deep breath. She would be at the reception in ten minutes. Maybe this was the sensible, measured thing to do. After all, what could ‘they’ do to her?

  She didn’t register the two jet-black vans that sped past her in the opposite direction.

  Still furious, she didn’t know what else to say to Aguda, so she disconnected. It occurred to her that the Chinese government, as the dominant player on the global stage, would be in on it for sure. It was unthinkable that the world’s last remaining superpower wasn’t at the heart of this cover-up. In which case, she was now heading straight into the lion’s den.

  19

  Monday, 11 February – New York

  Shireen felt drained, as though every last drop of strength and will-power that had sustained her over the past few days had finally been used up. The e-pill inside her still had a day to go, but she almost didn’t care any more. She was no longer concerned whether she was caught now – her fate was in someone else’s hands. She just prayed Sarah would do the right thing.

  Wondering what to do next, she decided she would find a quiet corner in the hotel lobby and check the news outlets. If Sarah had released the files, it would only be a matter of minutes before someone picked it up and reported it.

  She found a wide sofa hidden away behind a couple of large potted plants to the side of the hotel’s grand staircase. Sitting down, she tapped on her AR feed and started scanning various networks. To make herself more comfortable, she rested her head on the soft cushions and quickly felt herself drifting off. She didn’t resist.

  Almost immediately, she was pulled sharply out of her doze by loud shouts. She jerked upright to be confronted by four armed FBI agents. It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes since Sarah had left. So, she must have released the files almost immediately. Or had she just betrayed her? But her head was too foggy to try and think anything through. She looked at the men in front of her passively, feeling numb.

  ‘Stay exactly where you are and don’t move a muscle,’ said one of the agents, holding a stun gun directly at her chest. She had no intention of moving, so she stared back at the man. Two others approached her and pulled her roughly to her feet. She didn’t put up any resistance as her arms were yanked painfully behind her back and her wrists cuffed.

  The fact that she had been found so quickly meant one of two things: either Sarah Maitlin had indeed released the files and her movements had been traced back to the hotel where its cameras had identified Shireen … or Sarah had sold her out and just informed the authorities. She hoped her instincts had been right and that she had chosen Sarah wisely.

  Of course, there was a third possibility: that Sarah had been naive enough to hold back from releasing the files just yet, or, worse still, to put her trust in people who would try to stop her. Whatever had happened, it was too late to worry about it now, and she wouldn’t have long to find out. She wondered whether her backup plan had been needed and, if so, whether it had worked. She allowed herself to be led off through the hotel lobby and out to a waiting black van.

  20

  Monday, 11 February – New York

  In the gathering darkness outside, the snow was coming down a little heavier now and the traffic was moving slowly. Sarah was looking out, deep in thought, at the early-evening Manhattan lights, a glistening kaleidoscope of colours diffracted and reflected by a thousand drifting snowflakes, when she suddenly caught sight of a tiny drone through the falling curtain of snowflakes. It had appeared from nowhere and was now hovering about a metre from the window, level with her eyes and keeping pace with the car’s slow progress. No sooner had she identified it as a media drone than she spotted several others joining it and hovering alongside the car, all with their miniature cameras focused on her. Confused, she touched the window to opaque, hiding herself away from their prying eyes.

  What on earth would they be following her for? She checked her AR. What she saw was astonishing. Her mouth went dry and she felt a tightness in her chest as the horrid truth of what was unfolding hit home. Her entire conversation with Aguda just a few minutes earlier was being relayed live across the net and was spreading like wildfire. The information that Shireen Darvish had been so desperate to release to the world was now well and truly out there, for better or worse, and the world was reacting. But it was Sarah’s face and name, not Shireen’s, that was spreading exponentially across both the official and social media networks. No doubt it wouldn’t take very long for AIs to analyse the footage and determine that it was a genuine exchange between two scientists working for the United Nations.

  She’d been played. Pr
esumably by Shireen. Had that been the young cyb’s intention all along? And anyway, how could she have known that Sarah would confide in someone rather than release the files? It certainly wouldn’t have been difficult for someone of Shireen’s obvious ability to copy a spyware code over with the files – one that would activate as soon as she made contact with anyone, sending the footage to a site that linked to major hubs around the world. The decision on what to do with the files had been taken out of Sarah’s hands. But no one has the files themselves yet, unless of course Shireen has released them, now that their authenticity has been endorsed by my outburst to Aguda and his admission. No. Wait. Shireen wouldn’t need to do anything. If my conversation has been leaked out then the files could also have been released, from my account. Oh, this is all just fucking great.

  Sitting back, she closed her eyes. Shit. Too late to do anything about it now. Maybe the world did need to know the truth. After all, if a patient is diagnosed with a terminal illness, doctors have no right to hide it from them.

  It certainly hadn’t taken the media long to locate her. She checked her feed and saw that she was already being pinged to respond to a growing cacophony of requests for statements. Any attention she’d received over the past two weeks was going to look pretty lame compared to what she was going to have to face now.

  Clear of the heavy traffic, her chauffeurless limo suddenly picked up speed as it headed northwards along First Avenue to the reception in Manhattan’s Upper East Side.

  21

  Monday, 11 February – New York

  Senator Peter Hogan stood in front of the full-length mirror and adjusted his bow tie. He smiled, liking what he saw. These days he felt an inner strength and tranquillity in knowing he was in complete control of his own destiny. He flicked a speck of dust off the shiny silk lapel of his dinner jacket.