by Tobias Hill
Her eyes dilate in the familiar darkness. Now, she thinks. Now then, John Law.
Her briefcase is in the hall, beside her shoes. She brings it into the study and sits. She takes the tablet computer from the case, opens its prop and turns it on. The names of components begin to appear, hardware and software. The machine rediscovers itself, extremity by extremity, like a man who has been sleeping too long and wakes in an unfamiliar place. Then the screen lightens and fills with words.
PLEASE IDENTIFY YOURSELF. ENTER YOUR CARD IN THE SLOT PROVIDED. PLACE YOUR REGISTERED SKINPRINT AGAINST THE DESIGNATED AREA OF THE SCREEN.
THIS COMPUTER CARRIES A TRACER DEVICE. IF YOU DO NOT ENTER A MATCHING CARD AND SKIN-PRINT WITHIN 120 SECONDS, THE REVENUE WILL BE ALERTED TO YOUR CURRENT AND FUTURE LOCATIONS.
‘Good evening to you too,’ Anna murmurs, but her heart gives its usual start. There is always the thought that her card might be lost, and that the computer will find her out in that ordinary weakness. Or something worse: that the machine will discover some deception she has forgotten herself. As if she is not who she believes herself to be.
She has the card, there. Of course she does. She hasn’t misplaced her hands. She obeys the procedure and the warning words fade and vanish.
WELCOME, INSPECTOR ANNA MOORE.
She hits a key and this text, too, dissolves. Beyond is a vista of manila folders floating in a gas-blue sky, like Magritte men in bowler hats. Each folder bears the name of a client. Anna moves through the archives until she reaches Law. Beside her the rain taps and taps, like something waiting to be let in.
She double-clicks. The life of the Cryptographer fills the glass, twenty-one working years of profit and loss. Each file is larger than the last: their total would fill half a paper library. As large in numbers as in life, she thinks, and at random she opens a year. It is an early one, the figures still in hard currencies, archaic as Imperial measures. Law’s invention still waiting to be conceived.
04/03/02-12/04/02 … Deutsch Bank 24 … Security architecture … €22,512.54.
01/07/02-20/07/02 … Chaum Associates … Watermark encryption … $32,500.15.
03/10/02-07/10/02 … University of Chicago … Merkle hash trees … $7,312.09.
12/11/02-30/11/02 … Lyugun KK … Cryptography … ¥3,608,000.07.
She smiles, because there is nothing as quaint as old prices; and also because she knows these figures well, has imagined the life they represent. The young freelancer, handsome, mercantile. A desirable human commodity. The expanses of leisure between contracts. Rooms at the Savoy, when the time comes for him to be more inventive. It is a different life from that fainter, earlier one – of the boy and the virus and community service – and from the existence Anna has glimpsed herself.
The three images could almost belong to different people, or at least to one person much changed. But people do not change so much, Anna thinks. Not under the skin: not at heart. They alter less than they think, sometimes less than they would like. It is as if the heart were lined, like the imprints of fingers. She sees it in herself and those she loves, but also in those she is paid to watch. In the records of the Revenue it is the details that differ – the profits and loss, the employments and entitlements. The clients remain themselves. Ambitious or miserly, generous or at ease, they are constant through the years of numbers.
These are parts of John Law, Anna thinks. Out of nothing she thinks of his hands, their childlike softness. Perhaps all I have to do to understand his actions is place his elements in order. The merchant prince, the cryptographer, the delinquent. Or is that the wrong way round?
There is a sound from the kitchen, a clatter of plastic. ‘Burma,’ Anna chides, without taking her eyes from the screen, and the cat comes through the dark to purr and coil guiltily against her feet. With one hand she roughs his damp ears. With the other she touches a key, and the document folds back into itself. Another touch and the Internet appears.
Her hand hovers. There are Carl’s grotesque stories to be explored and denied, though the net is no place for reliable proof – it is a whispering gallery of the most gothic rumour, and rumour Anna has in abundance. But there is also the need and wish to understand what Law is doing, or what he has done. Some instance or circumstance, anything that will shed light on why a man with more money than he will ever live to spend would hoard it away, secretly, shabbily, like a bankrupt.
She types his name. The search engine blinks only once.
Results 1–10 of about 2,880,000. Search took 0.11 seconds.
1. Homes of the Rich & Famous
You can be your own tour guide inside John Law’s fabulous estate of Erith Reach. Part One – the Arboretum to the Master Bedroom. Just click on the place you wish to be and it will be so …
2. Why John Law Is Richer Than You
How To Become Rich As John Law!!! This is wonderful free site showing you TEN EASY STEPS to the best in dreamy lifestyles …
3. Masters of Reverse Engineering
… while John Law, the most dangerous and powerful industrialist in the world, continues to ignore the advances made by Schrodinger’s Caterpillars, the Cult of the Undead Cow, the Three Blind Anonymice and many others …
4. Neon Geisha Palace
… linked with the names of movers and shakers around the world from Rory James Gates and John Law to the stars of webcast and the golden screen …
5. Save a Cow – Eat The Rich
… is Anneli Law (wife of Virus Code inventor, crypto-fascistologist John Law) who on 24 June 2012 carried out what is arguably the most appalling single act of shopping in capitalist history. Her purchases included 300 Louis XIV gilt chairs, 16,000 tons of Italian marble, the island of Miyako, Japan, and 400 Victorian lampposts …
6. Welcome to Soft Gold
Soft Gold was created by John Law of the SoftMark Corporation …
Her eyes come to rest. The entry is the first in scores, Anna suspects, that will be ostensibly sane. And it is familiar, she has been here before, years ago now. It is part of the Cryptographer, and part of the merchant prince. Two out of three, she thinks, and clicks.
The destination window opens and is immediately submerged under a snowdrift of advertising banners. They impose themselves, layer after layer, their plaques gaudy as neon. Anna closes them away. Beneath them all is a single site.
SoftMark
The New Millennium is Now Available.
Welcome to Soft Gold, the world’s favourite money. You are minutes away from joining a global community of more than three billion users. Would you like to know more? Just touch Read Me.
ReadMe
It is a decade, at least, since Anna registered to use electric money herself. Nor is it the kind of site one visits twice. But it is part of John Law, the part of him people know and love. Which is to say this is where the money is.
She touches the screen. The writing gives way to writing. She thinks of palimpsests. The motion of script reflected in her eyes.
Q. What is Soft Gold?
A. Soft Gold is the world-famous currency from the SoftMark Corporation. Soft Gold is made of electricity.
Q. Where does Soft Gold come from?
A. Soft Gold was created by John Law of the SoftMark Corporation, the world’s number one provider of computerware. It has no national base or boundaries. It is used by more people, in more countries, than any other currency in history.
Q. What happens when I install Soft Gold?
A. The first thing you will notice will be the SoftMark icon in the top left-hand corner of your screen whenever you work online. This is the visible confirmation that Soft Gold is used at your site. Visitors to your site will recognise it as a symbol of quality and security – so will anyone you email. Don’t worry if you don’t like the icon: it comes in a fully adjustable range of over 10,000 font and colour combinations. When you install Soft Gold, all online activity on your computer is protected by the Soft Gold Code. This is a free security measure for every site
that uses Soft Gold, and is guaranteed 100% secure. When you trade in Soft Gold, you can be sure that every user has the same 100% site security as yourself, wherever they are in the world.
Q. How much do I have to pay?
A. Nothing at all. Soft Gold is a freeware product issued by the SoftMark Corporation for the benefit of others. At SoftMark we believe you shouldn’t have to pay money to use money.
She laughs under her breath. There is something warming about the predictability of the corporation. At least, she thinks, they keep their cynicism pleasant. And then she remembers that it is not They but Him, that it all comes down to someone she believes she trusts, though she has reason not to. The cat jumps up, wanting attention, kneading her into shape, and she tidies him down with her hands.
Q. How does Soft Gold work?
A. You can think of your package of the Soft Gold Code as a wall and a gate. The wall keeps out undesirable material. The gate can recognise units of the Soft Gold currency. Every gate has a unique and coded ID number, and your gate will accept Soft Gold only from other gate systems with a genuine ID. Because all users of Soft Gold have this freeware package installed, and because the Soft Gold Code cannot be broken, the Soft Gold currency can never be forged.
You will find that you cannot see the workings of your gate. This is so that all transactions in Soft Gold remain essentially anonymous – just like those made in the old money you grew up with.
Q. What makes the Soft Gold Code so special?
A. The Soft Gold Code is universally recognised as the first totally secure encryption system. The code is unbreakable because its rules change every two weeks. This is not long enough to break the code: in fact, it is estimated that the most advanced quantum computer would never be able to break one static sample of Soft Gold! Your wall and gate system will receive the two-second logarithm change, as it happens, every fortnight, direct from the SoftMark Corporation. You are left free to work in the knowledge that your money is secure, now and in the future.
Q. Why do some people call Soft Gold the ‘Virus Code’?
A. Don’t worry – this doesn’t mean that using Soft Gold will make you unpopular in the office! Some people use the term ‘Virus Code’ because of the way Soft Gold can change its structure, just as viruses do. In fact, Soft Gold is a kind of ‘tame’ virus. It is this flexibility that makes Soft Gold unbreakable.
Q. Who controls Soft Gold?
A. No one does. The Soft Gold Code creates its own currency without human interface, and monitors supply and demand for this as part of an internal programme. Each unit of money it creates is a fragment of the code that represents a single fixed denomination. Each time the money passes through a gate system, its code signature is updated according to the latest logarithms. Units of Soft Gold are electronically shrink-wrapped and tamper-proof.
Q. Who owns Soft Gold?
A. The Soft Gold currency is owned by anyone who wishes to use it.
If you have no more questions, then welcome to SOFT
GOLD, the world’s favourite way to pay!
To Join Now, Touch Here
By using this product, you agree to the following rules and regulations:
1. The Soft Gold Code is owned by the SoftMark Corporation™. The perimeter wall and gate system of your site are incidences of the Soft Gold Code and are owned by SoftMark. Any attempt to tamper with the wall or its gate system is strictly prohibited. Tampering will render your computer static and will act as notification to the relevant authorities. In the case of tampering your right to anonymity will be foregone and your personal details will be recorded.
2. Tampering with Soft Gold currency will render it unacceptable as legal tender and is a criminal offence under the 2002 International Electronic Information and Goods Act. It is not possible to modify, reproduce, redesign, redistribute or republish the Soft Gold currency or code. Attempts to perform any of these acts will send notification to the relevant authorities. All criminals will be prosecuted to the full extent of national and international law.
3. For the avoidance of doubt, SoftMark is not responsible in any way for the content of sites or mail using this product. SoftMark does not represent or warrant that the information contained in any such material is legal or accurate.
4. Guarantee limited to fund replacement. This product is installed at the user’s risk. To the fullest extent permitted by law, SoftMark will not be liable for incidental damages arising out of or in connection with the use of this product. This is a comprehensive limitation of liability that applies to all damages of any kind, including loss of data, income or profit, loss of currency due to theft, fire, flood or crash, loss or damage to property, personal injury, or death.
5. All rights reserved.
The telephone jolts her back in her chair. The cat is off her before she can lift him away. She gets to her feet and hunts around, trying to see in the dark, to place the mobile by sound or memory or anything, echo-location, so that by the time she finds it the phone has rung too many times, and she is wondering if something has happened, if something has gone bad, out in the world.
‘Anna?’ the telephone finally says in the voice of her mother, mildly bored and curious and everlastingly amused. ‘Are you alright? What’s wrong?’
‘It’s you. Nothing, I thought it was some kind of an emergency.’
‘Can’t I have emergencies too?’ her mother says, as if she is asking for another slice of pie, a fuller glass of wine.
‘Of course you can. Are you?’
‘No,’ she drawls. ‘You know I never do.’
‘You poor thing, that must be terrible. Would you like me to get you one?’
‘Yes please. What emergencies do you have?’
‘Oh, all kinds,’ Anna says, and then the line fills up with long-distance static, hush-hush. She walks to the window, steadying her breath, waiting for the interference to pass. Each year her mother sounds more American, less like herself. Which is to say less like the mother Anna remembers. It surprises her every time.
Her eyes still ache from small print. She closes them and sees numbers. The life of Law in negative. As she opens them the line clears. ‘I’m still here,’ she says.
‘Oh good. You were selling me an emergency.’
‘Well, we have half-price deals on death by workload, and I believe we still have some inadvisable relationships. Or did you have something special in mind?’
‘Don’t you have anything with naked men in it?’
‘Naked men, hmm, not really, no.’
‘Well, could you please have one ready for me next time?’
‘We’ll try our best, madam,’ and she stops speaking to find she has been smiling without knowing it, knowing only that her mother is smiling the same crooked smile, the Atlantic rising and falling between them.
‘So. How is the good old U of K?’
‘The same. Ageing disgracefully. How are you?’
‘The same. Ageing disgracefully. Single again?’
‘You know I am,’ Anna says, more uncomfortably, because her mother is not, doesn’t need to be asked. Her life, like her, theatrical, limelit, always lived in the presence of others.
‘I don’t. You don’t call. Your sister does.’
‘I’ve been busy.’ Biting back the easy anger. She glances past the computer towards the shelves. High up on their narrow purchase there is a picture, Martha’s favourite photograph. Anna dressed for rain. Her sister stands behind her in a sunlit room. Unlike Anna she is out of focus; only the amusement is visible in her face. She is trying not to laugh. She is loving Anna so much she can hardly keep her hands off her.
‘We’re all busy,’ her mother is saying. “This is the twenty-first century, the world only keeps turning because it’s chasing its tail. Sometimes I’ve been too busy for you too, I know, but I’d like to know you’re alive. I think I deserve that. At least I always tell you what I think. And I happen to think you work too much. I think you should be out chasing t
hat other kind of tail.’
‘Actually, I don’t think men constitute tail.’
‘You haven’t been out in a while, have you?’
‘I have. I do.’
‘Well, do it more, because I want to be a grandmother before you hit forty. Don’t forget. What happened to your nice older man?’
‘He died.’
‘Don’t tease. I liked him.’
‘Only because he made you feel young,’ Anna says, too fast, immediately regretting it, and her mother tuts.
‘Don’t let’s fight. I just called because I’m coming over with a new friend next month. I thought we might spend Christmas together. Just the day. One day, that’s all. We can have it at Martha and Andrew’s, if you like. It’ll be the five of us. Sweetheart?’
She walks back into the light radius of the computer. On the screen fractals are forming like ice on glass, an endless succession of whorls and filigree and branches. Anna touches the keyboard and the saver disappears. Beyond it the computer is still online. The new money still waiting to be chosen.
To Join Now, Touch Here
‘Sweetheart? Anna?’
‘I’m still here. What did Martha say?’
‘Martha says yes, of course. Which just leaves you.’
‘Christmas sounds fine.’
‘Really? Well, that’s wonderful. You can tell me all about your emergencies then. I’ll email you. Okay? I love you. Bye for now. Bye.’
She puts down the phone. Beyond the periphery of the screen’s illumination there is a mewl of complaint, and Anna gets up and goes through to the kitchen, abruptly conscious of her own hunger. Opening the fridge, the freezer, knowing the animal will be there behind her when she looks, like the man in her dream. She is making food for them both when the telephone rings again, and she walks back through with her hands full, the cat trailing her like an accomplice, its bowl, her plate and glass carefully deposited before she answers.