CyberStorm final Mar 13 2013

by Matthew Mather

  “Explain?”

  Over Vince’s shoulder I could see Susie and Lauren sitting on the carpet of the living room, holding up Luke and Ellarose together, helping them dance.

  Everyone looked happy.

  Chuck grinned and picked up a bottle from the middle of the table and poured himself another drink. We were sitting around Richard’s kitchen table, with an assortment of his finest scotches in the middle.

  “A few weeks ago at one of my restaurants,” said Chuck, “guess who walked in?”

  This is going to be one of those stories.

  “Who?”

  “Gene Kranz.”

  Everyone but Vince shrugged. “Head mission controller for Apollo?”

  “Right! Back in Gene’s day, they were strapping themselves to rocket sleds and lighting the fuse with a cigar. You know that guy who just set the new high-altitude freefall jump, from the Red Bull balloon?”

  We all nodded.

  “It took them three years and a whole team of engineers to beat the old record Joe Kittinger set more than fifty years ago, and even then they only barely beat him. Joe Kittinger was Gene’s buddy, and back in 1960 when they set the old record, Joe and Gene and a few guys just went out into the desert with a balloon, a case of beer, and an old pressure suit…and jumped.”

  “They sure don’t make ’em like they used to,” said Tony, nodding.

  “No kidding. Do you know the average age of the mission controller during the Apollo program?”

  We all shrugged, but he wasn’t really asking.

  “Twenty seven!”

  “And your point?” I asked.

  “My point is that these days people barely trust a twenty-seven-year-old to cook their burger properly, never mind land on the moon. Everything needs to be vetted by a million committees. We’re just not willing to accept any risk anymore. No appetite for risk, and it’s killing this country.”

  “Like antibacterial hand soap for kids,” I ventured. “Disinfecting and cleaning them all the time, weakening their immune systems and making them less healthy when we’re trying to do the opposite—it’s why kids have so many allergies. I’m always telling Lauren to just let Luke stay dirty.”

  I nodded at everyone impressively. I was drunk too.

  “Mostly because you’re lazy,” Chuck laughed. “Not quite rocket ships and moon landings, but yeah.”

  “I see where this is going,” said Vince. “If we don’t accept any personal risk, then we’re putting that responsibility into the hands of others to handle it for us, with exactly the opposite result of what we want.”

  “No risk,” said Chuck loudly, wagging one finger in the air, “equals no freedom.”

  “Exactly,” agreed Rory. “We’re afraid of terrorists, so we let the government start to collect personal information about where we are and what we’re doing, put up cameras everywhere.”

  “But if you’re not doing anything wrong,” I pointed out, “you have nothing to be afraid of. I don’t mind giving up a little privacy for a little security.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. You have everything to be afraid of. Where’s that information going?”

  I shrugged. In the new media business ventures I was working on, we regularly collected huge amounts of information about consumers online and sold it to businesses. I didn’t see anything wrong with it.

  “Do you know there are new laws that give the government the right to look at all your e-mail, all your records, everything you do, watch everywhere you go?”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “Anytime there’s even a hint of the government limiting the ability to buy assault rifles, the public goes crazy, saying they’re trying to take away our freedom. This law that gives the government the right to look into everything you do, without your consent—and not even a peep.”

  “Now don’t get me wrong, I think that the right to bear arms is fundamental, but you know what freedom really is?” asked Rory loudly. “Freedom is civil liberty, and the foundation of civil liberty is privacy. No privacy means no civil liberty means no freedom. You know why they don’t just fingerprint everyone?”

  “Seems like a good idea to me,” laughed Chuck.

  “Because once they have your fingerprints,” continued Rory, ignoring Chuck, “you instantly become a suspect in every crime. They’ll run your fingerprints against everything they find at a crime. You go from being a free citizen to being a criminal suspect.”

  “And fingerprints are just one way of identifying you,” added Vince. “Location, your face on a camera, things you buy, all your personal information creates a digital fingerprint.”

  Chuck wasn’t convinced. “But who really cares if the government has a bunch of information about me? What are they going to use it for?”

  “What are they going to use it for is exactly the question,” replied Rory heatedly. “Do you like the idea of being a suspect in every crime across the country? Do you really trust the government to keep your information safe? All the biggest data breaches are from the government—the bad guys are stealing it all the time, not to mention thefts from corporations. Talk about losing privacy.”

  He pointed at me.

  “And the new media applications you work on are the worst.”

  “Hey, come on now,” I said defensively, raising my glass.

  On closer inspection, Rory was even drunker than Chuck. His eyes were swimming as he looked at me angrily.

  “If you’re not paying for a product, you are the product. Isn’t that right? Aren’t you selling all the private information you collect on consumers to marketing companies?”

  Chuck shook his head. “Where are you going with all this?”

  “Where am I going?” said Rory. He blinked and took another sip from his drink. “I’ll tell you where I’m going. Our grandfathers stormed the beaches of Normandy to protect our freedom. And now, because we’re afraid, we’re giving up those same freedoms they fought for and died to protect.”

  He stood up out of his chair and began pointing at each one of us.

  “We aren’t willing to accept any personal risk, exactly as Chuck says, and because we won’t accept personal risk, we give the government the right to invade our lives, to turn us into suspects in our own homes. We’re giving away our freedom because we’re scared.”

  He had a good point.

  Vince nodded. “You can’t protect freedom by giving it away.”

  “Exactly,” said Rory, sitting back down.

  “And what does all that have to do with what’s happening?” asked Tony.

  Rory looked at him. “Nobody gets upset when they read that the Chinese invaded our electric grid because they assume that someone is taking care of it, but that’s not the case. Freedom needs to be protected every day, starting with a responsibility to protect our own personal freedom in the cyber world. Stop doing that, and bit by bit, we’re losing the freedoms our forefathers fought to protect.”

  Just then the music stopped and a voice came over the main sound system, “The sight is unbelievable, I don’t even know how to describe it—”

  “Are you boys playing nice?” said Susie, holding Ellarose in her arms. Susie had snuck up behind Chuck during our animated discussion.

  “We’re just having a little chat,” I replied.

  Chuck looked up and reached around Susie’s waist, leaning in to kiss Ellarose.

  “Come sit with us,” said Susie to me and Chuck. “We have the countdown on the radio.”

  “—thousands of people are standing in the snow, holding candles, lanterns, anything they can find—”

  Getting up, I frowned.

  “From where?”

  She smiled.

  “Times Square, of course.”

  Picking up my drink, I crossed over to the couches and squeezed myself in beside Lauren, picking Luke up and sitting him on my lap.

  “For the first time in over a hundred years, ever since Times Square was named Times S
quare,” continued the announcer, “it is dark on New Year’s, but while the neon signs may be dimmed, the light is still burning brightly in the hearts of New Yorkers. People are appearing out of the darkness everywhere—”

  Spellbound, the entire room went quiet, and everyone stopped and stared at the sound system. Outside the windows, big snowflakes appeared out of the blackness, illuminated briefly by the light spilling out from our sanctuary, and then fell away, disappearing again into the night.

  “—the official celebration had been canceled, and authorities had warned against a gathering, but people are still coming together. A makeshift structure has been erected in the middle of the snow, a projection screen and generators—”

  “Remember this moment,” I whispered to Luke.

  “With one minute to midnight, the crowd has joined together in a spontaneous rendition of our national anthem. I’m going to try and position my microphone—”

  We could already hear it, beyond the noise and the static, the unmistakable sound of “The Star-Spangled Banner.”

  Everyone was caught up in the emotion. It was our anthem, from another moment that this country was under siege, another time it was bent but not broken. The words stretched through time, connecting us with the past and the future at the same time.

  “—the land of the free, and the home of the brave.”

  And then the sounds of clapping and cheering. “Ten...nine...eight…”

  “I love you, Luke,” I said, squeezing and kissing him. Lauren kissed him too. “And I love you, Lauren.”

  I kissed her, and she kissed me back.

  “...two...one...Happy New Year!”

  The room erupted with the sound of noisemakers and merrymaking, everyone getting up to give hugs and kisses.

  “Hey,” someone shouted, “look over there!”

  I was busy giving Ellarose a kiss when Chuck tapped me on the shoulder. People were crowding at the window at the far end of the apartment. Vince was over there waving at us.

  “The lights are on!” he yelled, pointing out the window.

  Where before there had been only dark, the falling snowflakes on the other side of the window were now lit from behind with a soft glow coming from outside. Picking up Luke, I walked over.

  It wasn’t just a lamp or streetlight, but an illumination that lit the entire street and building facing us. From this angle, between the buildings, we couldn’t see the lights, just their flickering reflection. Looking up, I saw that even the sky was lit up.

  The entire next block must have power, just like they promised.

  “Come on!” yelled Chuck. “Let’s get downstairs and have a look!”

  “I’ll stay here with the kids,” said Lauren. “You go and look.”

  Gripping her tightly, I kissed her again.

  “No, come on, I want Luke to see this!”

  In a mad rush fueled by the alcohol in our systems, everyone in the room searched for something to put on. It wasn’t that cold out, so I grabbed what I could find, taking care to bundle Luke up, and then clambered down the stairs with everyone else. In the lobby, the front door was too jammed up with snow, so we began squeezing, one by one, out through the back door and onto Twenty-Fourth Street.

  Luke was confused but smiling at all the action.

  Carefully, with my headlamp in one hand, I picked my way to the center of Twenty-Fourth. The path there was packed down and rough, and in the semidarkness I took my time, watching my footsteps, holding onto Luke. Chuck and Tony were right ahead of me, with Vince following behind. The light was spilling onto Ninth Avenue ahead of us, and a crowd was already in the street, staring down toward Twenty-Third Street.

  It began snowing harder, and the wind was picking up. Finally, rounding the corner, I pushed past Chuck and into an open spot and looked up, expecting to see street lights, neon signs.

  I was greeted by smoke and flames.

  The high-rise on the corner of Twenty-Third and Ninth was ablaze. Luke looked up, his small face reflecting the flames. Seeing the fire, he smiled and pointed, just as someone jumped through the smoke from a top-floor window, sailing silently through the air and hitting the snow below with a sickening thud.

  The crowds backed away, and then two people ran to try and help the person who’d jumped. Lauren was behind us, and I looked back at her as she walked toward us, still in the darkness. She was smiling, not seeing what I was seeing, but when she saw my face she knew something was terribly wrong.

  I hopped quickly back through the snow toward her, grabbing Vince.

  “Can you go upstairs with Lauren, take Luke back up?”

  Looking up in horror, Lauren finally saw the flames. I turned her away and looked straight into her eyes.

  “Go back inside, baby, please go back inside with Luke.” I handed him to her.

  It wasn’t just one building.

  Other buildings on the block had already caught fire. Black smoke was billowing upwards into the swirling white snow, an ominous cloud lit by the inferno that fed it. Thousands of people stood huddled together in the streets, stretching off into the distance as far as the eye could see, mesmerized by the blaze.

  No sirens, no noise at all except the roar and crackle of the fire fighting off the cold and snow. New York was freezing and burning at the same time.

  Day 10 – New Year’s Day – January 1

  “TRY NOT TO MOVE,” I said softly. The man on the mattress groaned and looked up at me. His face was badly burned. “We’re going to get help.”

  He nodded, closing his eyes and grimacing.

  We’d turned the lobby of our building into a makeshift infirmary by dragging some mattresses down from the empty apartments and laying them on the floor. Pam was running the show with a doctor and some EMTs from neighboring buildings.

  The acrid stench of smoke and fire mixed with the smells of body odor and fetid, open wounds. We’d brought a kerosene heater down into the lobby, but we were running low on kerosene so had started burning diesel in it. It didn’t burn clean, which added the stink of soot and petroleum to the air.

  We wedged the back door open to ventilate the smell, and at least it had warmed up outside. It was above freezing for the first time in a week, and the snow had finally stopped. The sun was shining for the first time in days.

  The fires outside were still burning, and I thanked God that our building wasn’t attached.

  A steady wind had blown all night, urging the flames from building to building. It wasn’t just this one fire either. NYPR announced that two other fires had started in Manhattan during the New Year festivities—fires and candles didn’t play well with alcohol. The authorities were now warning people not to start fires indoors and to be careful with candles and heaters.

  Too little, too late, and besides, what are people supposed to do if they’re cold and in the dark?

  A torrent of people had run out of the burning buildings the night before. Many were suffering from smoke inhalation, and some were horribly injured, but most were unhurt. All of them, though, were terrified to be outside in the cold and dark, clutching whatever belongings they could carry, wondering where they would go.

  A convoy of military Humvees had appeared from the blackness, coming along Twenty-Third from the West Side Highway, crunching through the snow. There wasn’t anything they could do about the fires. There was no water, no fire department, and no emergency services.

  They radioed in what information they could, loaded the wounded, and within a half hour they were gone, replaced by a second convoy about an hour later.

  A third convoy failed to appear.

  By that time, a ragtag collection of local firemen, doctors, nurses, and off-duty NYPD had gathered and started organizing the situation. Not knowing what else to do, we began taking some of the wounded back to our apartment while trying to convince the residents of other buildings nearby to do the same.

  The newly homeless had made tearful pleas to be let into neighboring buildings.
A few of the early ones had found people willing to take them in, and we’d agreed to take two couples, but quickly the requests had overwhelmed the willingness.

  Standing back, we’d watched them begin their lonely walks up toward Javits and Penn, despondent, terrified, and many with children amongst them. A steady stream of them had disappeared into the swallowing darkness and snow, begging bystanders for shelter, many with only their phones to use as flashlights to hold back the night.

  A noise at the back entrance snapped my attention back into the present. Vince appeared through the back door of the lobby with a young kid from one of the adjoining buildings. He waved at Pam and me to come over. He was holding what looked to be a huge bong.

  “I went around and asked for painkillers and antibiotics,” said Vince in a hushed voice to Pam. “Most of what I could come up with was Advil and aspirin.”

  He held out his hand to reveal a few bottles.

  “Even this was difficult to get people to give up, but I have another idea.”

  “And that is?” asked Pam.

  Vince hesitated.

  “We get them to smoke weed. It’s a great painkiller.”

  He motioned to the kid beside him. He must have been sixteen. The kid smiled awkwardly and produced a huge bag of marijuana.

  “These people are suffering from smoke inhalation, even burnt lungs,” hissed Pam, wide-eyed and motioning around at twenty beds we had littered on the floor, “and you want me to get them to smoke?”

  Vince and the kid stared at Pam.

  “Wait!” said the kid. “We could make, like, brownies, or, no...tea! We could make some tea. Add a little alcohol to help dissolve the THC. That’d work.”

  Pam’s face softened. “That’s actually a great idea.”

  Someone on a bed cried out in pain.

  “Can you get it done right away?” asked Pam.

  The kid nodded, and Vince told him to go up to the sixth floor and ask Chuck for whatever he needed.

  At that moment Vince’s cell phone pinged.

  It had been pinging all day and night from people joining the mesh network he’d started.