As I emerge from the last end cap, an unidentified force pushes me into shelving. I drop to the ground amid an explosion of food canisters. The tubes roll away, and I look up to see Mike’s solid frame standing over me, arms crossed.
“You should really be more careful, and watch where you’re going. You could get seriously hurt.”
The welts left by the sharp corners concentrate soreness in a few spots on my back. Without reaching for it, I feel a cut on the back of my skull. Mike steps toward me.
“It wouldn’t be the first time I beat someone bloody and got away with it. Remember that. Stay away from her. And if you tell anyone about this, then you’re going to disappear without a trace.”
The tablet blares a furious tone. The walls of the building reflect and amplify it. Even the shelves hum with the terror, like bass notes from a low woodwind, constant and harmonic, but the shock of the noise drops Mike to his knees, and leaves me clasping my ears.
The sound stops. “Just remember what I said, runt.” He stands, and stumbles as the sound blasts him a second time. The noise stops as he staggers off. I uncover my ears as I look to the device.
Two beeps later, Vivaldi’s symphony starts again.
My heart turns to clay. If Bee has the ability to scare that jerk off, what else could she be capable of? The analytical part of my mind tells me that that the noise was random, and annoyed Mike to the point of leaving, but something in my heart digests the information differently. Somehow, a signal from the device resonated with his brain waves, producing more of a fright than any tone can create on its own.
Maybe that’s how it works. The noises starts. A fight breaks out. People go primal or commit suicide. The ability to annoy and scare could be tied with the possibility of influencing even more complex emotional states. What if the frequencies can control the human mind in other ways? Love, distress, or even convincing one agent to shock another; the possibilities are limitless. Is it possible that complete control over the human body could originate with air waves and electromagnetic radiation?
Two bubble-bots and a cleanup come to my rescue. The smaller square machines scrub the ground, while the arm of the bubble-bot replaces merchandise to its pristine display.
I lay there for a moment, thinking about Mike’s words. He made our collision look like an accident, and any report to the nearest agent would end in an interrogation while they decide if I’m telling the truth about his threats or not. Without evidence, he would walk, and I would spend some time in a cell. Depending on the grossness of my accusation, it could be a long time. Laws protect the wicked, while the innocent are judged.
Looking up, one of the store camera globes is immediately overhead. It surely captured the whole thing. But would a collision be enough for the police to prove his guilt?
“Robert?”
Paul is standing before the open double doors, looking down at me. He approaches.
“Are you okay? You collided with that guy. I hope he doesn’t blame the store for it.”
I suppose that answers my question.
“You need to be extra careful. You work here, and if that guy was injured, he could launch litigation.”
“Not without proof of malice.”
“Yeah, well.” Paul pushes his glasses up on his nose. “You’re probably right, but it never hurts to be careful. Are you alright at least?”
“I think I’ll live.”
“Here, let me help you up.”
I take his hand and pull myself up.
“Oh, I don’t mean to be a jerk, but you may want to get to work quickly on the robots. There’s something happening in the main office. Something big.”
“I don’t suppose it involves me getting a promotion?”
“It might. I’m not sure what it is, but there’s quite a fuss this morning. The messages have been bouncing nonstop since I got in. They did say something about sending a temp employee. You might be in luck.”
“Don’t tease me, Paul.”
“Hey, it could happen. You helped them out, and that Tom fellow seems to like you.”
I follow him into the shack, and plunk down at my station. I slam the first waiting robot on the desk, without checking my messages. I reach for the torque driver, and my fingers scrape empty pegboard as my implant pings with notifications.
“Paul!” I yell. “Where’s my driver?”
“Sorry,” he calls from his office. A moment later he emerges and crosses the bay, holding it out.
I snatch it from his sticky fingers, and slam it against the screws of the bot, the motor running full speed. The machine is torn down in seconds.
I grab the next machine and plunk it down with a crack. My finger pinches between the driver and a screw.
“Ouch!”
“What?” calls Paul from his office.
“What, what, what.”
“Nothing,” I holler. “Don’t worry about it.”
“What, what.”
“Shut up, Bee.”
A farting noise erupts from the device, and I continue working. Part after part. Bot after bot, with little drops of blood staining the desk until the wound scabs up.
***
“Tom is on his way over. Are you alright?”
“Fine,” I snap. I toss another electronics kit into a cleaning hopper, and glare up at him.
“You’re bleeding. Should I call a doctor?”
“It’s fine, I’ll get it checked out later.”
“If you wait too long, it might leave a scar.”
“I’m fine.” I freeze in place, my head turned halfway toward him, and my eyes staring ahead like those of a corpse.
He walks away, and I swipe extra material from the surface of my desk to clear a spot. A few screws find their way over the edge, and bounce across the ground. I pull up my message list.
Robert: We’ve made some scary connections here at the office, but we’re still having trouble tracking the program. I’ll be over as soon as I can. If you’ve made any progress on your end, I’d love to hear about it when I get there.
“Great. They won’t offer me a job, but they expect me to work on this problem for free.” I blast a sigh of anger like a dragon breathes fire, and check the monitoring program for my little experiment.
Line after line of gibberish. One hash after another, and nothing resembling an actual instruction.
“Bee, why don’t you quit spitting nonsense, and just tell me what you’re up to?”
The device farts, and I keep scrolling. Then something catches my eye. Many of these hashes begin with a specific group of characters: CE34FX. I scan up and down the list, seeing the code repeated over and over. A deeper look at the hashes reveals identical code fragments, even if they are sporadic.
I search the Global Network for the hash, and while it doesn’t pull up the entire list, something interesting does pop out. The code CE34FX25 has an entry. It’s the access point for a router manufacturer.
“This is part of an access code.”
I stare at the pegboard for a moment, and devise a plan. I put in the access hash code to transmit, followed by an instruction to change some configurations in my little black box. I set a loop to transmit my special hash code over and over, and run the program. The setup is similar to how I broadcast signals to the bots.
The display for the electronics packet prints my coded instructions, omitting the opening hashes to access the router and the device itself. These codes aren’t random. They are access hashes that the machine has been broadcasting to infect various Wi-Fi devices around the building. It tests random combinations until it finds a code that works, and interjects it with more combinations.
I scan the list for a common hash code, and find one that is showing up fairly often. The codes are identical, except for the last few digits, which are counting up every time it recycles.
“You’re testing the network to see how far you can make your code spread.”
The double doors burst open and Tom s
tomps in, accompanied by a smaller, wiry fellow.
“Working hard, Robert? Or hardly working?”
“It’s testing the network.”
Bee sings, this time something that sounds like Beethoven.
“Yeah, we know that.” He stops in front of my desk and scans over the display. “What’s all this?”
“No, I mean it’s systematically testing the network. I thought these were random hashes. They aren’t. These are device access codes. The ones that work successfully are repeated, and as the hash grows in length, it can spread the signal further and further.”
“If it’s testing things randomly, then why did all of these problems start so suddenly?”
“I’m not sure, but I think it’s been testing the hashes for a while, and then it found this piece.”
I scroll through the list, now seeing the short hash code everywhere, mixed in with the random garbage. “C-E-3-4-F-X-2-5. That’s an access protocol for all of the Wi-Fi routers. Once it found that one, it spread faster. It also expanded the code all on its own, to make longer hash signals that could in turn spread to other devices and so on. A hacker would have known that code, but a virus infused with life wouldn’t. The routers are the key. The code itself may be hiding on a dedicated machine, but it’s using routers the way the human brain uses neurons.”
FIFTEEN
“Hey boss,” says Tom. “Got something you need to see. The kid found a pattern we can use to trace the signals coming from the virus. It’s sending out strings of hash codes that allow it to access various systems. We need to start a trace program on these immediately.”
A stern face is on the other side of the call, looking back from a flickering conference room. “The whiz-kid strikes again. I’d like to meet him if it’s possible.”
“I think he’s looking for a job.”
“I might have one for him. What do you think? Would he make a good addition to our programming team?”
“I’m not sure how strong he is in programming, but he figured all of this out on his own. Quick learner. If anyone can train him up, I’m sure Scott can.”
“It’s settled then. We can take him on, but let’s not drag our feet. If he’s ready to roll, then bring him over today.”
“Something bothering you?”
“We’re out of time on this. Did you hear about the crash earlier?”
“Crash?”
“One of our vehicles. And the other companies aren’t cooperating with us on the effort to pull them off the server, nor is the government. The regulations state that any self-driving vehicle needs to have and maintain an up-link while in operation. Waiting on a committee to approve what needs to be done isn’t going to work.”
“So what’s your plan?”
“We squash the virus. The sooner the better. I’m pulling every string I have to bring in extra help. That kid found the hashes, he can help us track them. But tell him that it’s now or never. He’s either in my office by the end of the day, or the opportunity will pass him up.”
“I’ll let him know.”
“Figure out how to track this thing, Tom. I want to start a trace as soon as possible. This has gone too far already.”
“Will do.”
The conversation ends, and the GM’s face disappears.
“Did you catch all that?”
I nod, going over the possible consequences of uprooting from my home building. I might not even have time to tell anyone goodbye. I’d be leaving Amanda. While I’d be glad to be rid of Mike, the easy solution isn’t always the best one.
“What do you say?” asks Tom. “You going to fight for this job, or should I just pack my stuff and roll?”
“I.” I sigh. “Yes. I’m up for it. When do we leave?”
“I’m not sure yet. What about these hash codes? If I can get you some better network access, do you think you could write a script to find out where they’re coming from?”
“Maybe. Can I eat first?”
“Yeah. It’s about that time. You want some company?”
“Sure.” Having a bodyguard around will reduce the chances of another incident.
Tom reaches across the workbench to clear some programs that he’s been working on, and I notice scars on his right arm. There are tiny ridges running down from his sleeve.
“Alright,” he says. “Let’s go.”
The skinny guy went straight to Paul’s office and never came out. I suspect that he’s my replacement.
There’s no sign of Mike, but disaster strikes in other ways. A crowd has formed near the front of the building, and Bee chirps loudly from my pocket.
“What’s all this?” asks Tom. “Let me see the analyzer real quick.”
I hand over the tablet.
“Thought so. Look at this. You see these low tones on the EM spectrum? We’ve been comparing these with the suicides, and found a match.”
I spot the notes he’s pointing out only for a moment before he charges forth into the crowd. He pushes a path for me to follow, and at the center of the gathering is a man, an agent of all people, laying in a heap at the center, his hands covering his face as the body shakes uncontrollably.
Another agent kneels beside him, and she rubs his arms while whispering something to him.
“Look,” says Tom, drawing my attention back to the tablet. “The signal is stronger here. Guess your theory was right. The virus isn’t just hacking devices. Somehow, it’s hacking people.”
“That’s not possible.” I’m not sure if I’m trying to convince him, or myself. It was my idea, but a part of me refuses to believe it. Or perhaps I don’t want to believe it because of my attachment to Bee.
“Oh, it’s more than possible. Our research turned up some old declassified government files where certain agencies were actually testing the idea on human subjects. It didn’t say anything about how effective they were. The program was scrapped, but it’s still interesting.”
“If they succeeded, maybe they just kept it secret.”
“Or moved it to another agency. They’ve done their fair share of playing with neural networks and artificial intelligence.”
“You’re fixated on this government takeover thing, aren’t you?”
“I just follow the leads that present themselves.”
I shake my head, while my logical mind continues its attempts to convince my heart that Bee needs to be shut down. My heart argues back that protecting a life form, mechanical or biological, is intrinsically the right thing to do. “Let’s eat.”
Flickering overhead lights have become a normal part of life in the building. At the café, Amanda’s face lights up.
“Robert.” She waves me over. As I approach the counter, she leans close, and her voice falls to a whisper. “I think Bee likes me.”
I raise an eyebrow and listen carefully.
“All of my machines started working today. Of course it could just be good luck.”
“I don’t know.”
“Sandwich?”
“You know it.”
She smiles and goes to work, slicing toasted breads and dropping ingredients, then looks up at Tom.
“And for you?”
“Same thing he’s having.”
“You boys and your dry sandwiches.” She pushes my order to the bar, and starts on Tom’s. I glance around the café. Her coffee machines might be working, but the rest of the place is a haven for viral infestation. The tables and walls flicker intermittently. The chairs morph slowly without anyone sitting in them.
Tom is fixated on the same issue. “This is a perfect example of why we need to stop that virus.”
“Careful, the tablet’s in my pocket. It might hear you.”
We take a seat near the wall, and the tablet comes out. I look it over, and drop it between us. Tom’s eyes scan it over.
“Can we track it?”
“We can scan network nodes for your hashes. You’ll need to compile a list that we can follow. You said they’re linked, so we k
eep going as they get longer and longer. I’ll probably bring you in on some of the coding. Just to make sure that we don’t miss anything. You’re the expert on this, just make sure that you have a good idea of what we’re looking for.”
A doubt strikes me. “You think that we are putting ourselves in danger by fighting it?”
“What?”
“If you’re right, and it’s controlling people, we might end up like the guy over there on the floor.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much about that. The thing seems to like you.”
“What, what, what.”
The device lets out another chirp and a twill, followed by symphony music.
“It likes you a little too much. I don’t know how, but you managed to bond with it.”
“So, what happens? What do we do? I mean, I just grab some things from my apartment and roll out?”
“Yep.”
“Is that other guy that came in my replacement?”
“No, he’s testing some new modulations for the Wi-Fi to try and filter out the virus. That reminds me. We need to get him your code hashes so that he can weed them out if possible.”
“The hashes are comm signals. I don’t know if you can weed them out without replacing the whole network. Even then, Bee will probably figure out how to gain access.”
“Who?”
“Sorry. I started calling it Bee.”
He grunts, and bites into his sandwich.
“When we get there, I’ll have a job? I don’t need to tie up anything over here?”
“Boss said he wants to give you a shot. You should probably keep your apartment for the moment, just until everything is worked out. Eventually, you’ll need to move to Hiroshi Tower. Almost everyone who works there lives in the building.”
“You think they will keep me on?”
He swallows before continuing. “I think you’ll be fine. Why are you worried? This is what you wanted, right?”
“Yeah. I just. I’m not sure about some things.”
“Don’t worry. If you’re worth your weight as a coder then you shouldn’t have any problems. You’ll have to learn some commenting standards, and our system of making your code tidy. There are some reports that go with each project. From what I’ve seen so far, you shouldn’t have any trouble.”
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