Fall of the Core: Netcast 01 (The Frontiers Saga)

by Ryk Brown

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  FALL OF THE CORENETCAST: 01

  The Frontiers Saga

  Fall of the Core

  Netcast: 01

  Copyright © 2015 by Ryk Brown All rights reserved.

  First Edition

  Cover and Formatting by Streetlight Graphics

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  FALL OF THE CORE

  NETCAST: 01

  An NCNW employee ushered Hanna and her group from the shuttle as soon as it touched the landing pad on top of the Netcast News building in New York City.

  “I’m Jeff Ward, assistant to Mister Tollison,” the man yelled over the roar of the shuttle’s engines as they wound down. “Please follow me.”

  Hanna glanced about the skyline as they made their way across the pad and down the gangway. She’d been to New York for assignments on many occasions, but she had never seen it from fifteen hundred meters up. With so few buildings of this height, she could see for miles in every direction.

  Hanna had little time for sightseeing as they moved quickly into one of the many transit suites that populated the center section of the building’s flight operations platform.

  “Please state your destination,” the computer voice requested as the doors to the transit suite closed.

  Hanna tried to send a text to Arielle, but stopped herself in mid-thought, remembering that all three of them had shut off their neuro-digital interfaces last night.

  “Production one four seven, floor two three five,” the lead escort replied.

  “Production one four seven, floor two three five, confirmed,” the voice verified.

  Hanna watched the position map display as the transit suite began to move. “How come we’re not feeling anything?” she wondered aloud. She instantly wished she hadn’t.

  The lead escort looked at her, the corner of his mouth tilted up into a smirk. “Inertial dampeners. It’s a very big building, and these things move pretty fast, and not just up and down.”

  “Jesus, we’ve already dropped a hundred floors,” Arielle muttered in surprise.

  Hanna felt a little better knowing that she wasn’t the only one in the suite that was taken aback by the system. She glanced at Graham, who seemed unimpressed.

  “You’ll need these,” Jeff said as he handed ID badges to each of them. “The pictures were from your public credentials. Please have these IDs on display whenever you’re in one of NCN’s complexes. They take security quite seriously.”

  “I can see that,” Hanna mumbled, noting the two heavily armed guards standing at the back of the transit suite. She looked at Graham as he effortlessly placed the ID badge against his shirt and let go, allowing it to remain in place by some unknown force. “It’s upside down,” she told him.

  “I know,” Graham replied, a wry smile forming.

  Jeff raised an eyebrow at Graham’s intentional mistake. “Yes, Albert warned us about you, Mister Barnett.”

  “Don’t worry, Albert exaggerates.”

  “You’ll also be getting special ID chips implanted.”

  Hanna noticed the map display had changed to an overhead view of the two hundred thirty-fifth floor, indicating that the transit suite was now moving laterally toward its final destination. “Any chance we can get our neuro-digital implants removed while we’re here?”

  “We’ve had our medical department removing NDIs from our staff since you broke the story last night,” Jeff replied. “They will be removed and replaced with PDLs before you leave.”

  “PDLs?” Arielle asked.

  “Personal Data Links,” Graham said.

  “Yes. They have limited range, twenty to thirty kilometers at best. Designed to work with the data link in our shuttles. They will provide you with the same functionality as your NDI, but without the risk.”

  “Arriving at Production one four seven,” the voice announced.

  “They’re still in our heads, though,” Hanna pointed out as the doors to the transit suite opened.

  “They only link to the shuttle and its servers. They act as a firewall to the rest of the Internet. Nothing comes through without an invitation. It’s not the same as being connected to the net, but you will be able to communicate with one another, and you’ll have dedicated links back to here. Besides, PDLs are not able to control your health nanites, so Twister can’t get to you through them, even if it did make it past the shuttle’s firewalls.”

  “Couldn’t we just use smart-comms?” Hanna wondered.

  “We’d never be able to keep up with the competition,” Jeff explained as they turned the corner and entered the conference room.

  The room was filled with at least a dozen people and just as many monitors, all of them displaying live netcasts from all over the world.

  “Miss Bohl,” a man standing at the head of the table greeted her as she entered the room. He looked to be in his fifties, and wore dark slacks and expensive looking shoes, but his sleeves were rolled up and he was lacking the usual suit jacket that executives usually wore. “I’m Brent Tollison.”

  Hanna felt her mouth hanging agape, words escaping her. After shaking his hand, she finally managed to speak. “It’s a pleasure, Mister Tollison. Uh…” Hanna looked at Arielle. “This is my…”

  “I know who everyone is,” Brent interrupted. “Not to be rude to Miss Dugah or Mister Barnett, but time is of the essence.”

  “Of course…”

  “I’ll dispense with introductions at the moment. You’ll all know each other very soon. Please,” he gestured for them to take the empty seats at the table.

  Hanna and her friends sat down. The rest of the people at the table were in various types of attire. Some of them were wearing suits, while some looked more the blue-collar type. The one thing they had in common, however, was that they all looked tired. “Mister Tollison, the contract was a little vague,” Hanna began. “What is it you want us to do, exactly?”

  “You’re going to be the face of the bio-digital plague for NCN World,” Brent replied.

  Hanna looked skeptical. “What does being ‘the face’ involve?”

  “You’re going to be our anchor, our lead reporter…”

  “But, I’m a field reporter,” Hanna explained. “We’re a field team,” she added, pointing to Arielle and Graham.

  “Yes, and you’ll still be one,” Brent assured her. “Look, there’s going to be more stories than we can report and, to be honest, we’d be wasting our time if we covered every single one. There’s going to be a million wannabe teams just like you, pounding the pavement and serving up freelance reports for the highest bidder. Let the rest of them serve up the dross, the horror, the suffering. We’ll give them the facts, the insights, the truth.”

  “What about Sara Dumont?” Hanna asked. “I thought she was your anchor?”

  “Not anymore,” Brent replied. He looked around the room, noting the surprise on everyone’s face. “Sara was a great anchor, but she’s not available anymore. She’s in the hospital, in quarantine.”

  “But, why me?” Hanna asked, breaking the momentary silence. “Why us?”

  “Because you broke the story, young lady.
”

  “I didn’t break anything,” Hanna insisted. “It was handed to me, by…”

  “Yeah, Albert explained it to me. Timmy Twister was your lead. I got it. I don’t care. The public doesn’t care. They saw your face asking the questions. It needs to be your face giving them answers. It’s all about continuity. People trust continuity, and they trust the first person that will show them the truth, regardless of whether she dug for it or had it handed to her by some whack job. Everyone will want to know what Hanna Bohl has to say about things.”

  “You said we’ll still be a field team,” Arielle said. “How can we do both?”

  “We do remote anchor netcasts all the time,” Brent explained. You’ll do your anchor bits several times a day. You’ll be able to do most of them here in the studio. The rest you can do from wherever you are. We’ll just edit in the studio setting behind you. Between your netcasts, you’ll do interviews in the field, as well as interviews from the studio with remote subjects. You’ll be streaming out over the net with new updates and interviews every few hours. Not a minute will go by when there aren’t at least a million people hanging onto your every word. You are going to be a very busy young woman, Miss Bohl.

  “I still don’t see how we can do both,” Hanna replied.

  “They’ve got fast shuttles, Hanna,” Graham said.

  “The fastest,” Brent agreed. “We can get you anywhere in the world within an hour.”

  “Uh, if I’m going to be coordinating assignments all over the planet, I’m going to need some help…” Arielle began.

  “Damn right you are,” Brent agreed. “That’s why everyone in this room, with the exception of myself and Jeff, now works for you, Miss Dugah. And these are just your department leaders. You’ll have six different production teams. One in the studio for the anchor netcasts, a team with you, and four more teams digging out stories for your girl to report. Think you can handle it?”

  “I believe so, yes,” Arielle said, slightly taken aback by all the new responsibilities, but confident as always.

  “So what’s next?” Hanna wondered, feeling a bit overwhelmed.

  “First is an anchor netcast from the studio. The copy has already been written, and the backing shots are ready to go.”

  “What about the authorities?” Graham asked.

  “They’ll be here within the hour,” Brent warned, “and they’re going to have a lot of questions. Legal assures me that you have nothing to worry about. But they will tie you up for some time. That’s why we have to get you on the air first. If we do, it will be more difficult for them to detain you, as you’ll already be a household name. Not just in the Americas, but around the world, and eventually out in the core.”

  Hanna’s head was swimming. Not only was she getting her dream job, but the scope of it was greater than she could have possibly imagined. She looked at Graham. “You haven’t said much, Graham. How do you feel about this? Are you up for it?”

  “The end of the world?” Graham grinned. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

  * * *

  “This is crazy,” Hanna exclaimed as she rushed through the studio.

  “Have you read your copy?” Arielle asked as she struggled to keep up with her friend while scanning the text on her data tablet.

  “I still can’t believe this is…”

  “Hanna, are you listening to me? Have you even glanced at what you’re about to read?”

  “Briefly,” Hanna admitted. “A little…”

  “Hanna.” Arielle could barely hide her frustration.

  “I didn’t have time, Arielle,” Hanna defended as the stage hands ushered her across the studio floor. “The makeup and hair people… And the lawyers were asking me so many questions, I just…” She paused, noticing the concern on her friend’s face. “How bad?”

  “Very bad.”

  “One minute, people!” the stage manager’s impatient voice echoed through the room.

  “You need to be prepared,” Arielle continued. “You have to remain detached, no matter what you read.” She looked Hanna in the eyes. “Do you understand me?”

  “That bad, huh?”

  “Don’t joke around, Hanna. Graham was right. This is ‘end of the world’ stuff here. This is your last shot… our last shot. There may not be a network to broadcast on after this.”

  “Come on, Ari, don’t you think you’re being a little over dramatic?”

  “Where is Miss Bohl?” the stage manager yelled from the other side of the studio.

  “Promise me, Hanna. No matter what you read on the prompter, you’ll remain detached and professional.”

  “Of course.” Hanna reassured her. “Don’t worry, Ari,” she said, placing her hands on her friend’s shoulders. “I’ve got this.”

  Hanna turned and headed across the studio toward the irritated stage manager standing in front of the anchor desk.

  Arielle stopped, choosing to remain near the exit by the row of monitors. She watched as Hanna moved across the camera line and toward the set.

  “Why didn’t you just tell her?” Graham asked, walking up next to Arielle.

  Arielle sighed. “I was afraid she wouldn’t be able to go on.” She looked at Graham. “At least this way, she’ll be under pressure to continue.”

  “Finally,” the stage manager exclaimed with relief, seeing Hanna walking toward him. “We’re live in twenty seconds.”

  “What do I do?” Hanna asked as she stepped up onto the stage and moved around behind the anchor desk.

  “All you have to do is sit here, look at whichever camera has the red light on, and read the lines on the prompters. No commentary, no emotion. Nobody cares what you think or how you feel. They just want the facts, got it?”

  “Ten seconds,” a voice called over the loud speakers.

  “Got it,” Hanna assured the stage manager.

  “Put this in your ear.” The man’s expression softened as he backed away. “Welcome to the big leagues, kid.”

  A buzzer sounded, alerting everyone in the studio that they were about to go live.

  “Nod if you can hear me, Hanna,” the voice said from her ear piece. Hanna did as instructed. “Three……two……one……go.”

  The prompter screen directly below the camera lens came to life. Hanna swallowed and began speaking in measured, professional tones. “Good morning, I’m Hanna Bohl, reporting from Netcast News World headquarters in New York City. Klaria victims continue to flood hospital emergency departments and urgent care facilities in every major country on Earth. Since the initial outbreak reports around noon, Earth Mean Time, there have been over three million cases reported worldwide. Based on the latest updates from the Global Disease Control Organization, the spread of what the GDCO is now referring to as the Bio-Digital virus shows no signs of slowing down. We take you now to Global Disease Control Organization headquarters in Montreal, with Constance Gerard. Constance?”

  On the monitor directly beside the prompter, the image of Constance Gerard, standing outside the GDCO building, appeared. “Thank you, Hanna. It’s been a long night here at the GDCO headquarters as Doctor Mesnard and his staff defend against allegations that they knowingly withheld the truth about the connection between the digital Twister virus, and what appears to be its biological offspring, the Klaria virus, from not only the government, but also the general population. Thus far, the count is three point five million patients, several thousands of which have already died due to rapid, multiple organ failure. I spoke earlier with a health care worker who said that in her twenty-eight years in the health care field, she had never witnessed anything like this newest outbreak of the Klaria virus.”

  “The prompter,” the voice in Hanna’s ear urged. “Ask the question.”

  For a moment, Hanna froze, remembering the incessant texts from Unknown… Ask the question.

  “Hanna,” the voice repeated.

  “Constance,” Hanna began, snapping out of her daze, “we were all under the impr
ession that the Klaria virus had an incubation period of at least a few days and that, when fatal, death generally occurred a week or more after symptoms first appeared. Has that changed?”

  “Although there has been no official confirmation from the GDCO, it appears that this newest strain has a much shorter incubation period, perhaps as little as a few hours from infection to the first symptoms, and death within a few hours of that. But again, we have had no confirmation of this from the GDCO.”

  “Break off from Constance,” the voice in her ear instructed.

  “Thank you, Constance.”

  “Hanna.”

  “In related news, Mercer Industries, the manufacturer of both the neuro-digital implants and the health nanites, have released a statement assuring the public that simply shutting down the implant itself should be sufficient to protect the user from inadvertently contracting the Twister component of the bio-digital plague. However, despite the advice, users continue to inundate Mercer’s clinics, as well as licensed servicing agents, with requests to have their implants removed. Projected wait times can be hours, if not days, and most clinics are no longer accepting walk-in service requests. Although Mercer Industries continues to insist that the neuro-digital implant is safe, again, it is strongly recommended that users shut down their device until the crisis has passed.”

  The red light on top of the center camera went dead. Out of the corner of her left eye, she spotted the red light on top of the left camera come on, and she turned her attention to the prompter beneath that camera’s lens.

  “Emergency sessions were called in both houses of the American Federation. Heated debated ensued as all six parties called for President Jones to invoke martial law in the face of the crisis. The parties discussed further demands to shut down the public tiers of the Internet in order to stop, or at least slow, the spread of the digital component of the bio-digital virus. Press Secretary Wu assured the nation that the President was considering alternatives, and would choose the appropriate course of action after all the facts are available.”