by Elise Kova
“Now that’s settled,” Snow spoke deliberately, as if trying to radiate his displeasure. Jo folded her arms over her chest; she wasn’t going to let him have the satisfaction. “I shall leave you all to it.”
The room was silent once more for the morning’s second departure. The clicking of the doors closed left just the usual six of them.
“Oh no, please. Let us handle it. Thank you for the help, Snow. We greatly appreciate it,” Wayne remarked snidely from Jo’s side. It seemed she wasn’t the only one rankled.
“Snow has done enough for us.” Eslar, ever the peacekeeper.
“Oh? Like getting us into this mess?”
“It’s not as if he chose this for us.” Eslar fired the statement with such certainty that Jo sat a bit straighter.
Snow didn’t choose the wishes? Was that true?
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Wayne continued, oblivious. “I wouldn’t put it past him.”
Or Pan, Jo added mentally. Between Snow and the candy-haired creature, Jo would put her money on Pan being the one who’d pick a wish like this.
“Isn’t picking the wish good, though?” Nico said softly.
“What?” Wayne balked.
“We can save a lot of people. We can do real good. Isn’t that what we wanted?”
“Not if we don’t stop arguing like children.” Somehow an irritated edge had come to sharpen the typically direct timbre of Takako’s voice.
“Takako’s right.” Jo rested her elbows on the table, leaning forward. As much as she wanted to know more about Pan, and Snow, and everything else, there was nothing to be gained yet on those fronts and far more to be lost by infighting. “So, what are we going to do?”
“We just have to move a few hundred thousand people.” Wayne leaned back in his chair. It was his turn to sulk now, it seemed. Jo and he were similar in so many ways, they could create a dangerous feedback loop of frustration if they weren’t careful. “Could just ask them all one by one, we have a lot of time.” Wayne looked at his watch and then put on an all too sweet tone to say, “Excuse me sir, madam, you’re about to die in hellfire. If you could just—”
“Enough, Wayne,” Eslar snapped, rubbing his temples.
Jo put her forehead down on the table and let the rest of the team squabble around her. The moment she closed her eyes, the newsreels she’d watched for a week played before her like an ominous premonition. How could they get all those people to move? What methods had she seen utilized in state- or country-wide evacuations? Hadn’t she assisted in one before, for a past boss or a cover-up? Surely there was something she could do, something she was overlooking. . .
She shot upward and, judging from the surprised looks the movement inspired, she’d had her head down for longer than expected.
“Great of you to join the class, dollface.”
“It’s simple,” Jo said quickly, ignoring Wayne. She had more important things to discuss now.
“What is?” Eslar asked. But when Jo spoke, it was directly at Takako. “All we need to do is hack into the evacuation system. Create a few falsified statements, issue a large-scale evac. It should just be a push of a button or two and then every man, woman, and child will get alerts on their bio bands.” Jo held out her wrist.
“You can contact every person just like that?” Nico seemed somewhat surprised.
“Warning systems were commonplace back in the early 2000s,” Takako mumbled, chewing on the thought. “They’ve only gotten more sophisticated over time. . .”
“It could work,” Jo urged. “We do it quickly, and then there’s plenty of time for everyone to move. By the time they realize the evac wasn’t government approved, everyone will already be out of the blast zone. And even if people try to go back, news of the actual disaster will start spreading. Everyone stays put and everyone stays safe.”
“You’re sure you can do this?” Eslar folded his hands and rested his mouth against them, his bony knuckles resting just below his nose. “We don’t have a lot of time on the calendar.”
“Leave it to me.” Jo flexed her arm like she was about to flex her skills with a computer. “I can do it all from the recreation room, even. It’ll be easy peasy.”
Eslar turned to Takako. “What do you think?”
Jo looked back to her friend and ally, realizing that for this mission, Takako had become their de facto leader. Snow would always have control over them, but this was personal for the woman, and that seemed to go above everything else. Takako locked eyes with Jo, who swallowed hard, giving a nod as if to say, I can do this. Let me.
“I give you my trust.” Takako nodded as well.
Pride swelled through Jo’s chest and then went right to her head, the pressure of anxiety hardening it into a dizzying weight right between her temples. Jo had pulled off far more complex jobs, certainly. But she wasn’t sure if she’d ever had a job with stakes quite this high.
Chapter 12
Easy Peasy
I CAN DO this, Jo repeated like a mantra as she left the briefing room. I can do this. Easy peasy.
“Hold up!” Wayne’s voice called after her. Jo paused just inside the hallway leading toward the rec rooms.
“Yes?” Jo glanced down the path he’d stopped her from going down, trying to not let the mental pathways being forged in her mind get off-course.
“Do you. . .” He shoved his hands in his pockets, mulling over his next words in a display of a surprising amount of tact for the man. “Do you need help with anything?”
“I’ll be fine.” Jo gave a small smirk. “Not sure how much your nickel would be able to help anyway.”
He didn’t back down so easily. “It’s a lot of pressure, and a big task. You made it sound simple but—”
“That’s because it is simple.” Jo wasn’t about to let him introduce doubt to her mind. There wasn’t any room for it. “All I have to do is access multiple databases that service the government in storing private bio-band information. Bypass security protocols. Plant and activate evac warnings at the highest possible threat level. And make it all look legit enough that no one questions.”
“Doesn’t sound simple to me, doll.”
“Turning on a computer doesn’t sound simple to you,” she countered.
“You have me.” Modesty? She didn’t usually expect that from the man. “Maybe not my help, but someone else’s? We could be boots on the ground for you.”
“I have this,” she insisted. No doubt, no fear. She could do what needed to be done, it’d be easy. “In fact, I don’t want everyone else risking shifting things unexpectedly and making it harder for me. Just take a breather.”
“Odd hearing you worried about the ripple effects of the Severity of Exchange.”
Jo shared a brief laugh with him. “Well, we all have to grow up sometime, right?”
“So I’m told. Still waiting for it to happen.” The conversation stalled, no more momentum to carry it forward, but Wayne persisted anyway. “You sure?”
“I got this.”
“Because we’re a team and—”
“Wayne, I got this.” Jo sighed softly. “If Takako can believe in me, can’t you?”
“Okay.” He shrugged. “If you need anything Missus Lone Wolf, you know where to find us.”
“I won’t hesitate.”
He could’ve at least made it look like he believed her. Made it look like he had faith she could pull it off. But Wayne didn’t give her the courtesy, and departed with a small pat on her shoulder.
“It’ll be easy peasy!” she called, but he was already too far to hear. “Yeah. . . Easy peasy,” Jo insisted once more to herself. She knew what she had to do; she’d even explained all the steps for Wayne. But even with the steps laid out before her in perfect, simple-to-follow pathways, Jo still couldn’t help but repeat them over and over, drilling them into her own head. She spared no effort in attempting to convince herself that this was just another day at the office. Just a few things to hack into, a few scripts to
run, nothing major.
Jo’s hands were slick with sweat when she fumbled with her watch. It forced her to take a breath, and still her slightly trembling fingers to get it off. She was not unfamiliar with failure, but never before had she been so afraid of it.
She wouldn’t fail. She wouldn’t let herself even consider it. Lives were at stake, and Takako’s faith in her acted as both a balm and a boost of adrenaline. She wouldn’t let her down—wouldn’t let any of them down.
With renewed determination (and a roller-coastering confidence that she did her best to keep in check), Jo finally removed her watch and placed it on the recreation room’s side shelf.
The same impressive set-up of tech greeted her the moment she opened the door. In fact, it seemed even more elaborate this time—the desktop from her last visit updated with yet another monitor. There were also wall-mounted televisions giving a constant playback of Japan’s current news broadcasts (now serving as a reminder for rewound time). A cooler in the corner filled with RAGE ENERGY begged to be drunk. Even a comfy-looking futon was on one side, offering the promise of a brief reprieve should one be needed—and Jo was already bracing herself for that particular inevitability.
These rec rooms really knew how to provide.
With an almost running start, Jo threw herself into a rolling chair, wheels nearly skidding as she slid to a halt in front of her updated setup. As usual, her favorite programs were already up and running on a few screens; the others downloaded with software written in Japanese, though she had to blink a couple times to read it.
Over the last couple of months, her ability to understand both written and spoken languages outside her native tongue had become almost second-nature. Even though Jo had studied Japanese in school, she wasn’t always the best student (especially in any classes that didn’t deal with programming). It was almost as if she had to flip the switch from her mind trying to actively translate it, to allowing her passive magical ability to take over.
It looked like everything she needed to get started was right within her reach, just waiting for her to dive in. Which was why she couldn’t quite figure out the reason her hands continued to hover, trembling just slightly, over the keyboard.
She didn’t have time to doubt her abilities, or to feel overwhelmed and intimidated by the task at hand. She needed to have this hack pulled off yesterday, and instead, all she could do was stare at the news broadcasts hung on the wall above her head. Everything looked so normal, so peaceful in comparison to the footage they’d been forced to swallow for the last few days.
Somewhere in Shizuoka was Takako’s sister, her niece and nephew, all alive and well and completely oblivious to the oncoming disaster. A disaster that they had no way of stopping. But they did have a plan, and Jo did have a chance to save their lives—to save thousands upon thousands of lives. So, despite the way her hands still quivered, despite the way her heart had taken up what felt like permanent residence in her throat, despite Wayne’s words stubbornly lodging in her mind, Jo got to work.
Within moments, she could feel it. It wasn’t just the sensation of her magic bubbling back to life, helping her see alleyways in the dark web or data-routes that seemed otherwise invisible, but her own confidence spiking.
This was her thing. It was the one thing that she could hang her hat on, be confident in, and no one else could take from her. It was the value she brought to the Society. She could tear down walls and shred any defense that kept her from her goal. Nothing could be put before her that she couldn’t break.
If anyone knew how to get these evac warnings put in place, it was her and no one else.
The rush of magic-fueled adrenaline was intoxicating, thrumming beneath her skin like the buzz of an electric current. Her eyes bounced from screen to screen, fingers setting up a constant staccato rhythm against the keys. Second by minute by hour, she experienced her plan unfolding.
It started with a quick hack deep into the Japanese government's residential databases and ended with complete control of all citizens’ bio bands—which Jo was very careful not to alter in any unnecessary ways. From there, it was simply a matter of uploading the evac codes into their wireless drives and waiting for the warning to go into effect. All dominoes lined up and waiting to be knocked over.
This time, as Jo took a breath and hovered a finger over the ‘Enter’ button, her hand trembled not with nerves, but with eager anticipation. She could do this; it would all work out. She’d covered all her bases, made sure every detail was accounted for. Now all she had to do was find a computer on the other side of the Door (with a USB port), activate the evac warning, and wait.
Wayne was sitting on a couch just beyond the Four-Way, heading toward the common room, when she crossed back toward her room, as if he’d been waiting for her. His eyes drifted up from the tablet he’d been thumbing and caught hers for a long moment. Jo gave a quick nod before he could say anything, and continued on.
She didn’t need help; she needed the USB from her room and the trust of her teammates. There wasn’t anyone else who could do this. It all fell to her and she wouldn’t fail them.
The USB stick was right where she’d left it after their last wish. Wayne was right where he was before—both times when she crossed back to the recreation room and then back toward the briefing room. Both times, he’d said nothing and made no motion to stop her.
As she left the mansion and stepped onto Japanese soil, Jo thought of Takako and her family, of Mt. Fuji and the decimation of the surrounding regions. She thought of every line of code, every hack, every digital footprint she’d put in place to lead the citizens of Japan out and away from future tragedy.
Tokyo buzzed on as normal, giant billboards of brightly colored anime and video game characters taking up entire skyscrapers. She’d chosen Akihabara as her point of entry—the “electric city.” Yuusuke never stopped ranting about the gamers that could be found in arcades and computer cafes there and, sure enough, here was the place where she found some hole-in-the-wall computer café with towers that still sported USB ports.
The attendant looked at her, albeit somewhat suspiciously given her mastery of Japanese, but made no motion to bar her from renting out a space. Her corner procured, no prying eyes on her, Jo plugged in and began running her scripts. Her heart beat on overtime as she navigated the real-world channels, and it wasn’t until the last dredges of her magic fizzled that Jo felt she could even take a breath.
Returning to the Society felt almost like a dream, her body dragging and her mind clouded from over-exertion.
Jo couldn’t bring herself to head to the common room yet. Blissfully, Wayne was no longer waiting for her, and she could sneak back to the recreation room unimpeded. Even though she’d taken her watch to head back to the real world, the room was just as she’d left it—monitors broadcasting the news included.
Taking up a seat on the futon, Jo watched, waiting for her actions to take root. It took a little longer than she’d expected (or intended), but eventually alerts began popping up on every channel. Jo lifted the remote, clicking to another news station.
“Come on. . .” she whispered—begged to the newscaster. “Tell everyone that—”
“This just in—” a title graphic swooped across the screen, interrupting the woman for a moment “—we are receiving reports of wide-scale evacuations across the Kanto region of Japan. Preliminary protocols are advised to be followed…”
Jo leaned back against the futon with a pleasant sigh. It was working. Things would escalate, dominos would continue to fall, more evacuation zones would be alerted and rising danger warnings would prompt people to move.
Perhaps it was the relief of success, or simply the release of the constant state of mental and magical concentration, but Jo felt instantly heavy, wracked by a wave of exhaustion. A dizzy haze settled over her as she glanced wearily at the bottom of one of the screens.
Her plan had taken nearly thirteen hours to execute, including the one and half she sp
ent back in the real world.
Jo stood, rubbing her shoulders with as much pressure as she could muster (which still wasn’t enough) and took in her workspace. At least half a dozen cans of RAGE were sprawled around the keyboard, and when she finally pulled her attention to the music still blaring from her headphones, it was already a quarter of the way through a repeat of her favorite playlist.
She returned the headphones back to their hook, her fingers protesting the mere idea of even grabbing something. Her knuckles brushed the monitor she’d been working so furiously on in the process, and it flickered off. Jo paused, staring at it. She tapped the screen once, twice… three times, before it finally flickered back to life.
“You gave all you had, too, huh?” Jo gave a small laugh. “Fine, have a rest.” She clicked off the single monitor and started for the door. As was usually the case after a long session, she couldn’t even stomach the sight of a keyboard. She wanted to be anywhere other than that tech-filled dark room.
So Jo headed for the only place she could conceive to be the exact opposite—the open and bright common area.
The door to the recreation room closed before she ever noticed that the monitor had sparked to life only briefly, before fizzling out entirely.
Chapter 13
Hotshot
JO DEPARTED FROM the recreation room and scooped her watch off the shelf, fastening it back over her wrist. The expanse of hall leading to the Four-Way was void of windows. It wasn’t until she was walking down the stairs and heading toward the common area that she even got a sense of time. Of course, she could’ve checked her watch, but that was just so logical and her brain was far too sluggish for such taxing solutions to life’s simple problems.