The Astral Hacker (Cryptopunk Revolution Book 1)

by Brian Terenna

I try a light switch. It doesn’t work.

  “Sunny, make your eyes brighter so we can see.”

  He does, and the room illuminates. A few rats scurry away into a hole in the wall.

  Not quite as welcoming as I hoped. “I’m going to see if the water works and use the bathroom. Shine your eyes here, but don’t look.”

  Across from the toilet, an old coffee mug sits on the sink. It reads, ‘Those who would give up essential liberty, to purchase a little temporary safety, deserve neither liberty nor safety.’

  Looks like another freedom lover lived here.

  The water is still on, so I wash the blood off my face and out of my clothes the best I can. I brush and floss, then return to the dining room.

  My stomach growls.

  “Sunny, toss me one of those protein bars.”

  He rummages around in my bag and throws me a bar. I tear it open and devour it, remembering all the times that I pushed on my empty stomach to dull my hunger pains.

  I do my best to clean an area with my foot and then find a blanket in a closet to sit on.

  I sigh as the pain in my ankle finally dulls. “We just need to stay the night, and I’ll be healed enough. Then we can find another place.”

  I scan through other news to distract myself, unable to handle my new reality yet.

  One reads, ‘The Oversight Committee has rejected a budget increase for the NIA.’

  Good. Those losers deserve nothing.

  Another says, ‘The South American tech corporation Neurôdados is leading Xyphotech’s Evo in the race to bring their brain implant to the international market.’

  Let’s hope they both lose.

  A third says, ‘Anna McCloud, a Cardinal Post board member, removed from duty after a schizophrenic break.’

  Diablo, that’s strange. I click on the article.

  A hologram of a plump white woman with a puffy face and gray hair appears before me.

  I search for important information and find no family history of mental illness, and that she was unresponsive to typically successful medications, just like Barbra. Weird. She’s the third suddenly schizophrenic woman in Stroudsburg in a week.

  Something is going on, but I’m too tired and in pain to care right now. I’ll figure it out later.

  “Alert. New Infoworld Media article about Barbra,” says my q-link.”

  I prefer less biased news than the huge media company reports, but oh well. “Read it.”

  “Breaking news. Barbra Scavo, fifty-six, found dead in her home on Lindon Street,” says Chim.

  Her dead body invades my thoughts, and I grimace. I’ll miss you, Barbra.

  “It has been ruled a murder,” says Chim. “Police are hunting for the primary suspect, Fae Luna, Barbra’s foster child.”

  ☼☼☼

  A jolt of fear shoots through me, and I bolt up to a seated position. Murder suspect? No. What? It was a suicide. She left a note. She was schizophrenic. But maybe they think I wrote the note. A gnawing pain grips my stomach. I touched the scissors.

  “Why do they think you killed her?” asks Sunny.

  I lower and hold my head, feeling like the world is unraveling. Is that why they shut down my accounts? Or is there something else going on? “I really don’t know what’s happening.”

  “Maybe it’s because you left.”

  “I’m sure that didn’t help.” I scan through the article, my hands shaking.

  It doesn’t mention anything about schizophrenia or a suicide note, only that my fingerprints were on the scissors. I rub my forehead in a panic, trying to decide what to do. I glance frantically around the room and toward the window. Should I bolt?

  No. I doubt anyone knows I’m here. Still, I could have been seen or filmed.

  “Chim, route all traffic through my virtual private network,” I say. “Sunny, I don’t want anyone gaining access to you. You’re going to need to disconnect from the mesh.”

  He turns to me, and I swear his eyes look concerned. “I won’t be able to learn anything or help you as much. The things we’re dealing with are new to me.”

  “We can’t risk you becoming compromised. If Chim is, I can get another q-link, but we can’t get another you.”

  “What are we going to do? I think we need help. You should call Blaze.”

  My stomach drops at the thought. “People are always trouble. You know this, Sunny. Every person in my life has hurt me.” I shake my head, feeling sick. “Even Barbra brought a huge problem down on us.”

  “I think we need someone. We have no money, you’re hurt, and you’re wanted for murder.”

  “No. I’ll figure things out,” I say.

  “What do we do then?”

  “I don’t know right now. We should have time, and I need rest anyway. We’ll figure it out tomorrow.” I lie down on my blanket and stare at the ceiling, doing my best to ignore the cobwebs.

  I always thought one of my skills was coming up with options; today, I can’t conjure even one. Maybe it has something to do with the scratchy, stale blanket beneath me, or how I can tell a child once lived here. Who was she, and what did she think about when she stared at the ceiling? What happened to her? It can’t be good, or there wouldn’t be so much stuff abandoned here. It proves that even if a country is prosperous, there are always people who suffer.

  ☼☼☼

  I wake up on my blanket and groan. At least it provided a little padding. My fitful night of sleep was terrible, especially when some creature, probably one of the rats, ran over my legs. I shiver at the thought.

  Sunny stands over me in sleep mode.

  “Sunny.”

  His eyes light up. “Morning, Fae.”

  “I wish you would have guarded me from the rats.”

  He looks down. “Sorry. I’m low on power.”

  “It’s fine. I’m just tired. I barely slept since I was so worried. Will you hand me my bag?”

  Sunny picks it up and walks over to me. I pull out two protein bars and eat them.

  “We need to come up with a plan,” says Sunny. “You’re wanted for murder.”

  The issue that made sleep nearly impossible slams back into me like a cascading computer failure.

  What should I do? I have no money, and the police are after me. There’s no way I’d turn myself in, so I suppose I have to run. But I need cash to make that possible. I was going to program apps, but there’s no time for that now. I need to get out of Stroudsburg, and for that, I need money.

  “How can we get cash, Sunny?”

  “We could work instead of doing something illegal.”

  I shake my head. “I’m wanted for murder. I can’t be seen.”

  “We could wear masks,” he says.

  “Let’s get a Jack Trackton mask for you, and I’ll be the president. We can charge money for autographs.”

  “I don’t think that will work.”

  “That’s sarcasm. Remember I told you about that?”

  “Oh, I understand,” he says.

  So what can I do? I glance at my q-link. I know I could make money hacking, but my recent failure still makes me sick, and I said I wouldn’t. I’d be devastated if I hurt someone else.

  How else can I avoid capture, though? I need funds to escape.

  I try to come up with other options, but after a while, I sigh and slump forward. There’s nothing. I rub my face and lean back, feeling defeated.

  I suppose I could put my vow on hold if I’m careful. I don’t have to abandon it. It would only be one hack, and then I’d never do it again. I guess I have no choice.

  I consider possible attacks that wouldn’t hurt anyone or be too hard. After devising several options, I select one. “I have an idea that shouldn’t be too risky,” I say. “It’s illegal, but that’s our new life, I guess.”

  Sunny lowers his head. “Diablo. I don’t like it.”

  I roll my eyes, amused as always when he uses my lingo.

  I’m going to need a way to change my face for th
e job, though. I can’t risk being filmed or seen. Sunny wasn’t way off base about the masks. Wearing high-quality masks could work, but we have no money.

  I’ve heard of illegal software that projects a holographic image over your face. That would work. I activate my proxy and virtual private network for extra protection and scan the dark mesh for the software.

  The only software I can find costs more money than I’ve ever had and certainly more than my zero dollars. I might be able to steal it, but it’s risky to steal from people on the dark mesh. I decide to program the software.

  After doing some research about how it works, I start coding. It takes a couple of hours, but it looks like it will work well. I lie back on the blanket and take a breather.

  After several minutes, I decide to test the software and find an old woman’s face to use.

  Sunny kneels near the rat hole and looks in.

  “Sunny, help. Something happened to me.”

  He stands and turns, then tilts his head. “You’re old. What’s happening, Fae? How can I help?”

  “I don’t know. But please help me.”

  He runs over. “I don’t know how. What do I do?”

  I motion my hand to my q-link, and my face returns to normal. “You fixed me.”

  He tilts his head again, then nods. “A joke. Very good.”

  “It looks like the program was a success.”

  I just need one more thing. I devise another hacking program and code for a half-hour until it’s ready. “Now, let’s get out of here and make some money.”

  I transfer the face-shift software to Sunny, and since he has multiple projection points, he can entirely transform. “You’re going to be my little brother.”

  I check my q-link’s power level.

  Eighty percent remains, but it’s so important now that I worry about running out. “Let’s go.” I boost what looks like a boy out of the window, but my hands feel cool metal.

  Sunny drops to the ground outside.

  I alter my own face to a girl around my age, then grab our bags and jump out the window. My ankle throbs when I hit the ground, but it’s bearable. It should be healed enough as long as I don’t have to run.

  We pass by a family with a little girl. A Foster Buddy who looks just like Sunny walks next to her.

  “Look, like me,” says Sunny.

  My eyes widen, and I look to see if they heard. “Shhh. Remember, you’re a boy.”

  “Sorry,” he says and pouts just like a real boy.

  In a short time, we reach a broad street with brick buildings on one side and a church on the other. A remote charging tower connects to my q-link, and I pause to let it boost my battery. While I wait, I consider a theoretical hack that would remove the safety limits and let me charge faster.

  A few people in dress clothes meander around the church. They must not mind the heat. Nearby, a woman sits on a bench, her eagle-shaped drone pet flying above her. Its predatory eyes scan the area. Next to her, a tall gruff-looking man in a stained hoodie leans against a streetlight.

  He lifts his head, and his eyes meet mine. I quickly look away. The few people shouldn’t be a problem for my plan.

  I walk toward the ATM at the end of the block. I’m not even sure if I can hack an ATM. I better not fail, though, or I’ll be calling the cops right to me.

  Two people in suits exit the building to my left. A large sign posted on the wall reads, ‘Norms need not apply.’

  I shake my head and snort, then keep walking to the ATM. For some reason, I get the feeling the gruff man is following me, so I glance over my shoulder. He’s not there. I relax but decide to go around the corner of a building where there’s a different ATM.

  On the way, I catch my reflection in a window. It’s strange to see a green-eyed girl with freckles instead of my Dominican features. I get to the ATM and look around to make sure no one is watching me.

  I plan to speak through my voice-changing program, so I’m not recorded. It’s something I made for fun years ago, but now, it will be a lifesaver. “Chim, access the nearest ATM.”

  “Failure,” says my q-link. “It’s illegal to access ATM networks.”

  Hell. I never needed to worry about that before. Like that will stop me, though. I scan through my settings until I find the relevant one, then program in a workaround.

  “Chim, access the same ATM.”

  My q-link connects to the network, and the firewall appears before me. I grin and initiate my attack program. I researched how to hack ATMs, but information like that is always outdated. Still, it gives me a starting point. I’ll need to be active to make this work. Nobody ever said it would be easy to hack a bank.

  Verbal programming commands are best, but hand movements speed the process even more. My fingers fly into motion. “Strike line seven and replace with variant C. Initiate lines eight through ten.”

  Defensive programs protecting their firewall spring to life. They are complex and powerful and begin to stall my attack.

  I pore over the code, looking for anything that I can use against them.

  A tracker comes online and immediately tries to locate me.

  Oh hell. I can’t let them find out who I am. My breathing accelerates, and sweat drips down my side as I imagine police throwing me into a jail cell. I do my best to shake off my distraction and work faster. I just need to…there. I find an exploit. “Initiate hotkeys seventeen, three, and seven.”

  The defensive programs freeze, and their firewall crumbles. I’m in. Seconds later, digital dollar bills are piling up in the money slot. I grab them and shove them into my bag.

  Sunny, the boy, squats and watches pigeons that peck at insects.

  “Come on, Sunny. We did it.”

  I turn around and crash into someone.

  The gruff man in the hoodie stands in front of me, his hard eyes fixed on my bag.

  Panic instantly grips my heart. I try to step around him.

  He moves to block my path. “Give me the money, and I’ll let you go.”

  Possible actions flood my brain. Fight? Talk? Run?

  In Silent City, I would knee him in the balls, slam him in the temple, and stab him in the heart.

  Almost time for the third law, but first. “Sorry, sir. I just really need this money. Can I keep half?” I ask, hoping that, somehow, he has a heart.

  He laughs. “Give me it now.”

  I knee him in his groin as hard as I can, but rather than continue my attack, I whip around, grab Sunny, and plant my foot to run.

  Intense pain shoots through my ankle as it gives out. I sprawl on the ground. Sunny flies several feet forward and clatters on the sidewalk. I push myself up, fear driving me on.

  I take two steps toward Sunny, and I’m jerked backward off my feet. I’m momentarily hovering in the air as I scream in shock, then I’m smashed onto the concrete.

  Pain overwhelms me. I clutch my body and cringe as I rock back and forth. I squeeze my eyes shut and clench my fists until the pain subsides. I open my eyes and look up.

  The man looms over me, holding my bag with the money. The other bag is still on my arm. He leans down, his face inches from mine, his warm acrid breath blowing on me.

  I crinkle my nose and twist my head away.

  “You shouldn’t have hit me.”

  I feel like I’m ten again with my brute foster father standing over me, chewing me out and smacking me around.

  The hooded man says nothing as he wraps his rough hands around my neck. My eyes widen as I struggle for breath. I punch at him, weakly, wishing I had my Trexstar K10 laser.

  The world darkens around me.

  He suddenly stops and yells. “What the heck?”

  I gasp for breath as my vision returns. Sunny is next to him, poking the man with what looks like a boy’s finger, but it’s probably his soldering gun.

  He turns and kicks Sunny in the head. Sunny clangs to the ground and scrapes along the concrete. The man pulls out some type of baton.

 
; At least Sunny has a chance against that.

  An arc of current sparks around the end of the baton.

  Oh no. Stun baton. That could short out Sunny’s neural net. Even if I reprogrammed him, it would be like starting over. He’d be dead.

  I reach into my bag and grab the knife I stole. With a grunt, I push myself up, grab Sunny’s bag, and charge the man, ignoring the spikes of pain in my ankle.

  Sunny’s seal, Bean, flies from the bag, but I pound forward.

  The mugger doesn’t turn around.

  I lift my knife to his exposed back. I could easily kill him, and we’d be safe. I’ve done it a thousand times in-game, but my arm won’t move. It just feels wrong to sink the blade into flesh instead of holograms.

  The man wheels around. His eyes widen at the knife, but his baton whips up and smacks it fifteen feet out of my hand. A surge of electricity stuns me until his other fist crashes into my face.

  Stars explode around me, and I collapse limply on the ground. I open my eyes after a second of darkness and touch my face where he hit me. Blood smears on my fingers.

  The man is a few feet from Sunny, scowling and sparking his baton. “You’re going to get it now, you little punk.”

  He’s going to kill him. Still dazed, I look around for help.

  A couple walks hastily away on the other side of the road, only sparing us a glance.

  Of course. “Sunny,” I yell.

  The man turns, lowers his eyebrows at me, then sparks his baton over Sunny.

  In a panic, I force myself to think of a plan, my gaze darting around the area. The woman with the drone eagle gets up from her bench, and an idea comes to me.

  “Chim, access the nearby drone pet, and activate attack program delta.” In an instant, my program breaks through the simple defenses, and I control the drone. I target the mugger.

  It speeds toward him with an eagle’s screech. He looks up just before its beak stabs into his face. His stun baton flips into the air and clatters to the ground. The eagle crashes next to it.

  I grunt and push myself up to run for the baton. I take only one step before tripping and falling. My palms scape on the ground.

  Stupid ankle.

  Sunny jumps up, his green eyes flaring with determination. He grabs the baton, shoves it against the mugger’s face, and shocks him. The man spasms and collapses.