The Rise and Fall of D.O.D.O.

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The Rise and Fall of D.O.D.O. Page 55

by Neal Stephenson


  Exchange of posts by DODO staff

  on “Anachrons” ODIN channel

  DAY 1937 (17 NOVEMBER, YEAR 5)

  Post from LTC Tristan Lyons, 08:30:

  FFS where is Magnus? He was supposed to be here on the 0800 bus from the SARF for a seminar in Violence(s) Ethnology. This is the third time he’s been late.

  Usually he’s a morning person.

  Reply from officer on duty at SARF (Supervised Anachron Residential Facility), 08:41:

  He was out the door at 0800 sharp but apparently did not get on the bus, which was waiting outside. Will check cameras.

  Follow-up from officer on duty at SARF, 08:52:

  Front-door security camera footage is ambiguous. We see him exiting the door and going down the front walk toward the bus, but just as he is exiting the frame he appears to juke sideways.

  Magnus has always been fascinated by the security cameras and so he probably knows where the coverage areas are. Evidence suggests he proceeded down the walk until he believed he was out of frame, then made his move.

  From LTC Lyons, 08:56:

  Alerting DOSECOPS and Dr. Blevins (acting head of C/COD). Anyone who sees him or learns anything, pipe up here so we can cancel the alert.

  From MAJ Isobel Sloane (ranking DOSECOPS officer on duty), 09:12:

  We’ve activated the protocols for AWOL Anachrons. These have been worked out in advance with local police departments and transit police—obviously we want to find the missing Anachron, but we have to treat it as a sensitive matter. We don’t want someone like Magnus ending up in the slammer with a random assortment of criminals.

  Currently checking all bus and T routes in the vicinity of the SARF.

  From LTC Lyons, 09:20:

  Respectfully, MAJ Sloane, Magnus isn’t going to hop on a bus. He can walk faster than most people can run, and he can run faster than cars and buses are capable of moving in Boston traffic. He has been missing now for eighty minutes, and with his level of physical fitness could be anywhere in a ten- or twelve-mile radius of the SARF by this point.

  From MAJ Sloane, 09:32:

  Acknowledged and understood. Also putting out feelers to local PDs and social service agencies for reports of weird or threatening behavior.

  From Dr. Roger Blevins, 10:05:

  Just became aware of Magnus’s disappearance. May I suggest sending officers to check local gridirons, sports bars, any place connected with football. I took him to a game last month and he seemed quite interested.

  From MAJ Sloane, 10:16:

  That’s a useful lead, Dr. Blevins. Anything else in that vein?

  From Dr. Blevins, 10:23:

  I also took him to Walmart, which he quite enjoyed, but (a) he would have no way of locating a Walmart, and (b) even if he did, the closest one is many miles away.

  From officer on duty at SARF, 10:56:

  [Redacted], who frequently takes the night shift at the security desk here, told me the other day that Magnus had “borrowed” his iPhone and apparently used the map application. Magnus was also seen using a pen to draw on the palm of his hand.

  From MAJ Sloane, 11:01:

  Need to wake up [redacted] and have him check the search history on his phone. Sounds like Magnus drew a map.

  From Dr. Blevins, 11:05:

  Suit yourself, Major Sloane, but I believe you are grossly overestimating Magnus’s mental capacity. He cannot even speak English, much less type search terms into a navigational app.

  From LTC Lyons, 12:00:

  He’s been gone for four hours. Sitrep?

  From MAJ Sloane, 12:01:

  Just writing one up. Nothing yet. [Redacted]’s phone didn’t preserve any search history.

  From MAJ Sloane, 13:27:

  Bingo. We have a report from the Walmart Supercenter in Lexington that a man matching Magnus’s description has been using a computer in the electronics department for a couple of hours. It’s only ten miles—he could have Paul Revered it on foot. Sending all available DOSECOPS units.

  From LTC Lyons, 13:30:

  Please advise Walmart rent-a-cops not to engage Magnus. I can’t even . . .

  From MAJ Sloane, 13:31:

  Neither can I. Have already emphasized this to them.

  From MAJ Sloane, 14:10:

  Plainclothes DOSECOPS personnel made peaceful contact with Magnus and escorted him from the Walmart without incident. Interviewing witnesses. Magnus is in the SUV, should be back in DODO HQ soon. He’s calm and relaxed.

  From Dr. Blevins, 14:15:

  Any indications Magnus might have divulged classified information to civilians?

  From MAJ Sloane, 14:23:

  All eyewitness reports so far agree that he said nothing—which stands to reason since he doesn’t speak English! Sounds like he’d brought a Sharpie from the SARF and was using it to draw on his hand and forearm—that’s what freaked out the store management and caused them to call it in.

  From MAJ Sloane, 14:39:

  Magnus is in the building, being escorted to conference room for debriefing.

  From LTC Lyons, 14:42:

  Don’t you guys have a lockable room down in DOSECOPS land?

  From Dr. Blevins, 14:45:

  No need to escalate by placing Magnus in something that looks to him like a prison.

  From LTC Lyons, 14:47:

  It won’t look to him like a prison—he’s never seen a prison!—it’ll look to him like the nicest, cleanest room he’d ever seen in his life until a few weeks ago.

  From MAJ Sloane, 15:05:

  Still waiting on the Norman interpreter so we can interview him.

  From LTC Lyons, 15:08:

  FFS I can do that. No need to wait.

  From MAJ Sloane, 15:11:

  We are observing him in the meantime. As part of a psych eval. He’s scratching himself with a paper clip.

  From LTC Lyons, 15:12:

  ???

  From MAJ Sloane, 15:14:

  Just superficial scratches. Not enough to draw blood. Maybe the ink irritated his skin.

  From Dr. Blevins, 15:23:

  Why are the alarms going off?

  From SGT Jones, 15:25:

  Major Sloane asked me to notify everyone that we got a report from the Walmart that Magnus has a knife. Apparently they reviewed their security camera footage and saw him taking it from the kitchen section and hiding it in his trousers. He’s had it the whole time.

  From LTC Lyons, 15:25:

  OMW

  From CPT Gomez, 15:26:

  Need medic conf rm

  From SGT Jones, 15:26:

  Facility is in lockdown. All personnel following active shooter protocols.

  From CPT Gomez, 15:28:

  Need medic Stairwell 2

  From LTC Lyons, 15:28:

  He’s on ODEC level.

  He’s in ODEC 2 with a MUON.

  It’s Constance Billy.

  He’s gone. Constance shaken but unharmed.

  From Dr. Blevins, 15:30:

  Gone where? To what DTAP?

  From LTC Lyons, 15:32:

  Constance says he threatened her with a knife and demanded to be Sent to 912 AD Svelvik. It’s a DTAP she knows pretty well.

  From Dr. Blevins, 15:34:

  Isn’t that three centuries before his time?

  From Dr. Melisande Stokes, 15:40:

  912 Svelvik is like Grand Central Station for old-school Vikings.

  From LTC Lyons, 15:45:

  Magnus has always been fascinated by that era, it doesn’t surprise me that he would choose to go there. He knows he can’t come back, ever, after what he’s done. So he picked the one place where he could live out the rest of his days as his fantasy of a classic Viking.

  From Dr. Stokes, 15:48:

  Maybe he’ll go discover America:)

  From LTC Lyons, 15:50:

  Not actually that funny, Stokes.

  Magnus’s search history

  (recovered from computer on display in


  Walmart electronics department)

  TRUCK

  BOOBS

  FREE BOOBS PIX

  LIE DOE CAIN

  LIE DO CAIN NUMM

  NUMB

  LIDOCAINE

  TOPICAL ANAESTHETICS

  SCAR

  HOW MAKE SCAR

  SCARIFICATION

  BLACK FRIDAY

  BLACK FRIDAY WALMART

  TRUCK BOX

  METAL TRUCK BOX

  BIG METAL TRUCK BOX PIX

  BIG TRUCK PICTURES

  TRUCK WITH BIG STEEL BOX

  SHIPPING CONTAINER

  SHIPPING CONTAINER IMAGE

  SHIPPING CONTAINER WIKIPEDIA

  SHIPPING CONTAINER DOOR

  SHIPPING CONTAINER TRAILER

  TRACTOR TRAILER

  SEMI TRAILER

  18 WHEELER

  NAKED WOMAN

  NAKED WHITE WOMAN

  [redacted]

  FUGGER

  FUGGERS WHERE LIVE

  FUGGER BOSS

  GUN

  BEST GUN

  GUN SHOOT HOW

  GUN HOW SHOOT YOUTUBE

  REVOLVER HOW SHOOT

  SEMIAUTOMATIC HOW SHOOT

  SHOTGUN

  SHOTGUN HOW LOAD

  BULLET ARMOR

  GOLD

  GOLD WHERE

  AMERICA WHY RICH

  AMERICA WHY RICH HISTORY

  CONQUISTADOR

  CONQUISTADOR GOLD MAP

  EL DORADO

  CIBOLA

  TENOCHTITLAN

  TENOCHTITLAN MAP

  TENOCHTITLAN HARBOR

  TENOCHTITLAN CLOSEST PORT

  VERA CRUZ

  VERA CRUZ HARBOR

  VERA CRUZ MAP

  VERA CRUZ NAVIGATE EUROPE

  GOOGLE MAPS

  THE LAY OF WALMART

  TRANSLATOR’S NOTE: “The Lay of Walmart” comprises two parts. Handwriting analysis confirms that both were written by the same author, self-identified as Tóki Olafsson, a skald originally dwelling in the village of Sverðvík (modern-day Svelvik) on the Oslofjord in the early tenth century. Part 1, written on sheets of birch bark using oak-gall ink, was recovered from a peat bog outside of Sverðvík by a covert DODO archaeological extraction team in the wake of Part 2’s discovery.

  The overall style is typical of Norse epic verse of Tóki’s era, though somewhat rough-hewn as many parts seem to have been written in haste. Not all skalds were literate. Tóki was, and seems to have used written documents as an aid to composition and memorization. Of note here is his use of modern English loan words such as “Walmart” and “ditapp,” which is his transliteration of DTAP (Destination Time and Place), a common acronym in the Department of Diachronic Operations.

  PART 1

  A hearing I ask. A skald am I.

  A witch woke me, hurried to my hut,

  Summoned me from sleep,

  Beseeched me to bear witness,

  Record in runes a traveler’s tale.

  Tailing her out of town, I heard tell

  Of what had happened: a man Sent

  From distant time and place,

  Magnus, mighty one, subject of sagas,

  Treasure-taker, ship-shaker, ring-bearer.

  Yet when he came, not as well clad

  As the cats the witch kept.

  To her home we hastened.

  Magnus, blanket-bundled, on a bench,

  Sat by the sparking fire, staring

  Amused at the flames’ antics.

  “Say nothing,” he said, stretching out a hand.

  “Hear only, heed me, memorize my words,

  O skald, story-stretcher, keeper of epics.

  Write them in runes on the morrow.”

  “Sent hither was I, just now, naked.

  A witch-friend, fair Frankish girl,

  Got me away in good order

  From a far place, a fat land.

  “Walmart is where the thralls

  Of that land store up their wealth.

  A fat fool took me there,

  Thinking he would make me quail,

  “Cock-shriveled, cuckolded,

  Shamed by the sight of such treasure.

  While the memory of that mart remains mine,

  I’ll make it yours too, tale-teller.

  “We’ll wend our way to other times,

  Tell the tale, hiring a host of heroes,

  Return as raiders to plunder that place

  And carry on viking thenceforward.

  “Of the fat land I’ll say little now.

  Too many tales to tell of its weird wonders.

  Walmart is what I have just seen,

  Not so long ago as when you lay sleeping.

  “Greater than any Goth village

  Is the width of its walls, sheer and strong.

  Thrice-gated, though, with glass:

  Frail fencing for a treasure-trove!

  “For in Fatland, visits from vikings

  Are few and far between;

  Fear rules fellows, makes men meek,

  Glass gates are good enough.

  “That barrier breached, all the land’s luxury

  Lies ready for reaping.

  Here’s what my memory holds

  Of how it is sorted.

  “Long lanes, laden with loot

  Wide ways, well made for waging war

  Like the roads of the red-crested Romans

  Ordered just so, as warp and weft.

  “Too many for merchants to memorize,

  Marked, therefore, with runes they can read.

  Romans wrote them first. The fat ones stole them,

  As well as Arabs’ numerals, arranged below.

  “For each district of the treasure-town,

  A Roman rune written, raised high

  For each lane lying below it,

  An Arabic number to know it.

  “South face the glass gates; the fat fool

  Northward led me, shouldering them aside

  Greeting a guard, vested in blue,

  Scarcely strength to stand had that old ogre.

  “To our right, ranks of clashing carts

  Waiting to be wheeled and weighed down

  By Fatlanders too frail for fardels.

  Sight-seers only, we spurned these.

  “Till-keepers’ tables cluttered our view.

  Beyond them, still north-questing,

  Kiosks and cairns covered the place,

  Towers of trifles.

  “From there, to the west, lies all the food in the world.

  North, a cornucopia of clothing, all colors.

  Doubling back south, white witches

  Doling out drugs, physicians’ philtres.

  “Eastward, though, lies victory for vikings.

  Counting the cairns, the merchandise-mounds

  Standing in the center of the wide east-west way,

  Stop at the sixth. Atop it’s an image:

  “A fair lass, tresses flowing,

  Like the lush Linndalsfallet,

  Where it rushes over rocks,

  Teeth shining like Snæfellsjökull.

  “Cradled in the lass’s hands, a bottle,

  Bewitching brew, beautifying the hair.

  Below it, many more such, stacked like soldiers.

  That is the landmark that leads you to the left.

  “A long lane, laden with loot.

  Its rune is like Berkano: the Beginning.

  Its number, one score and five.

  Let it lead you north. Little more to say,

  “For in fewer than five paces

  Is what your hand has hungered for

  Since you found yourself in Fatland,

  Alone and naked: Numberless knives, new and needy.”

  Thus the blanket-wearer, who now bated,

  Hefting a horn, whetting his whistle.

  “More mead, if you are willing, witch.

  There’s riches in this tale.”

  Ingib
jörg was the witch’s name.

  South of Sverðvík, alone she abided

  Here in this hut, cozy, kept clean,

  Cats her companions, dogs her defenders.

  “Let none say I don’t serve a guest sweetly.

  Here is your horn, more mead for Magnus.

  Gladly I’ll listen to more of your story

  But the riches you rave of mean ruin for me.

  “Here in my hut I am happy.

  Grief-bringing gold, land needing labor,

  Swords, slaves, silks, swag: to what end

  Should, I, Ingibjörg, buy into this business?”

  “For that there’s an answer,” said Magnus.

  “Gráinne’s grief made her great with rage,

  Drove her to desolate ditapps,

  Reddened her hands with friends’ blood.

  “To you, welcoming witch, I’ll have more to say

  When the sun sheds its light on the shore

  And cocks crow. Now is night-work,

  Telling the tale to Tóki, the skald.”

  Drinking deep of the mead, whetting his whistle,

  Magnus made the most of it then,

  Telling to me, Tóki, tales of Walmart,

  Where the weapons were, how to find food.

  When the sun shed its light on the shore,

  When the cocks crowed, home I hied,

  Wrote it in runes, left nothing out,

  Then slept soundly.

  “Tóki, time to depart!” were the next words I heard.

  Magnus and Ingibjörg stood staring.

  “Distant ditapps await us. Hardy heroes

  Restless to ramble, we’ll sway them to our side!”

  Blanket-bound was he still, blowing on blue hands.

  “Furs I will fetch you, friend,” said I. “No need

  To ride so rude-clad, cold and uncovered.”

  “We won’t ride,” said he, “naked will both of us be

  “When the witch has her way, and we’re at the ditapp.”

  “Sending it’s to be then,” said I, “travel through time,

  Dark and dangerous. Ingibjörg’s will

  Isn’t what it was when last I heard tell.”

  The witch was fur-clad, fierce-faced,

  Fingering her skein, but half in this world.

  “I have heard tell from the man Magnus

  Of a future that is to be feared.

  “Alchemists and astronomers, addling

  The wits of witches, stripping us of our strength,

  Helpless hags they’d make of us. I’ll not have it.

  Put away your pen. In a peat bog, bury the bark.

  “Let it lie there, a legend

  For our friends in the future to find.

  The story will stay in your mind, son of Olaf.

  Tell it true, when you get to the ditapp.”

 

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