Crisis- 2038

by Gerald Huff

  He groaned and sat up, rubbing his forehead. Then he grabbed the tablet and answered the video call from Sheila Bratton, the team’s omnipresence director. He blinked at the sudden flood of light.

  “Preston, it’s Sheila. Sorry to wake you, but this is very serious.”

  “No problem, Sheila. What is it?”

  “I’m sending you a message with a link to a report that’s going viral in OP. It’s by a data scientist named Kathleen Norquist. Remember that mysterious ‘secret weapon’ Frances talked about at the launch but never revealed? Turns out it was a massive network of intelligent agents run by RezMat. Norquist did an analysis and specifically connected Sara to RezMat.”

  “Oh shit. Okay, Sheila, I’m going to call an emergency team meeting. We’ll need an action plan.”

  “Preston, is this true? Is RezMat really behind Sara? I know they bought Frances’ company. Is she working for them?”

  “No, no, no. RezMat is not behind Sara. I’m sure Frances can clear this up.”

  Ten minutes later his AI had contacted Sara and all the team leads, and put together a holoconference.

  The screen split into six panes, and Sara and Frances and each of the team leads came into view.

  Preston laid out the facts succinctly. “Thank you all for assembling so quickly. A few hours ago, a PhD data scientist named Kathleen Norquist published a report that identified a huge global network of intelligent agents that promoted technology in omnipresence on behalf of RezMat. She also found that network directly supported Sara’s launch and she theorized a connection between RezMat and Sara. Unfortunately, that theory has gone viral and what’s circulating right now is a twisted version where Sara is actually a front for RezMat.”

  There was a chorus of gasps.

  “I’m afraid I must take responsibility for this,” said Frances. “This story has become terribly jumbled. There is no connection between RezMat and me or Sara. I did employ a highly secretive firm with an intelligent agent network to support Sara’s launch. The head of that firm, once exposed to Sara’s ideas, decided to take down his own network to do some good in the world. He evidently took down a RezMat network as well and this researcher has somehow incorrectly combined them all together.”

  “Well that sucks,” said Sam. “We’re going to need to respond to this. It’s going to highlight the questions about Sara’s funding again too. Are you sure you don’t want to go public, Frances?”

  “I will if I have to, but I’d really rather keep the focus on Sara,” she replied.

  “I’m afraid ‘Billionaire Tech CEO Who Sold Her Business to RezMat’ doesn’t play that much better than RezMat,” said Sheila.

  “Does it make sense to play this as ‘There is no connection to RezMat. The funding is not important. This is just a distraction’?” asked Sam.

  “That makes sense to me,” replied Vannha. “It’s consistent with Sara’s message. But I’m not sure we’ll be able to prevent RezMat and funding questions from becoming the story.”

  “They will be the story,” said Sara softly. “For a little while. It will be up to me to convince people that I do not speak for RezMat and that the funding is merely a distraction. I will need to convince them to focus on the message and take action.”

  “Sheila,” said Preston, “can you set up a video shoot for Sara to put out a statement?”

  “Sure. We can do it first thing in the morning. Sara, you’re in Chicago now, right?”

  “Yes, and I’m flying out to Los Angeles at the end of the week.”

  “Okay, we have a plan,” said Preston. “Any other questions or things we should be doing?”

  The team leaders shook their heads.

  “Right. Well, let’s stay focused. We’ll get through this. Good night, all. Sara, Frances, can you stay on a moment?”

  All the others dropped off the call.

  “Sara,” said Preston, “this could stoke up a lot of anger toward you. Do you want to postpone some of your public appearances?”

  The young woman thought for a moment. “I don’t see how I can. I’m calling on people to face their fears and have the courage to act. I can’t myself run and hide the first time a challenge presents itself.”

  “Okay, but I’m going to ask Vannha to increase security at your events.”

  “If you must,” said Sara reluctantly. “But please don’t make it look like some huge private police force.”

  “Sara,” said Frances, “I think you’re underestimating the impact this is going to have. Some people are going to be outraged. Many of your supporters will be disillusioned.”

  “I do understand,” said Sara. “I’ll speak to them as best I can.”

  Preston said, “I’ll send Vannha a message. Anything else we should be doing?”

  “Not that I can think of,” said Frances. “Sara, my dear, take care.”

  “I will Frances. Good night. Namaste.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  SAN FRANCISCO/NEW YORK - JANUARY 8

  SAN FRANCISCO

  “Good morning, Bay Area! You’re back with Calista Quinn-Jones, here on the early shift. The hot topic today is this report that says RezMat had over two hundred million fake people in omnipresence hawking technology and the absolute bombshell that Sara, the pro-technology, pro-corporate OP sensation, is really part of a huge public relations stunt by RezMat.

  “Go ahead, Delilah, you’re on the air.”

  “Thanks, Calista, long time listener. I think you’re being too harsh on Sara. She put out a video completely denying that she has any connection to RezMat. I believe her.”

  “Well, Delilah, I know that Sara is an appealing young woman, and there are parts of what she says that I like, too. But you’ve got to look at the facts. And these are from a PhD data scientist, not from some anonymous troll. When Sara was launched these RezMat fake people were her number one initial supporters. Her message is one hundred percent pure corporate capitalism and directly supports RezMat and its cabal of other technology companies. What am I missing?”

  “You’re missing her message of love and compassion, and using technology to liberate humanity.”

  “Well, maybe I can’t hear that because all I can hear is fusion power, GMO vats of meat, more automation, more profit, and pipe dreams about redistribution.”

  “They aren’t pipe dreams if we make them happen.”

  “Sorry, Delilah, but I don’t know what country you’re living in. In my country both parties are slaves to the moneyed interests. In my country there’s no way to pass legislation that actually helps people.”

  “You know, Calista, I used to admire you for fighting for the working person,” said Delilah. “But in a way, you’re as much a part of the problem as those corporations. You don’t want to step up to the hard work of making change happen. You just bemoan how impossible it is. You keep fighting the battles of the last fifty years over and over again.” The caller’s voice grew more strident. “The world is changing, Calista. The people—the people you care so much about—are going to take back the future, while you’re stuck in the past. Wake up, people! Don’t listen to this empty…”

  Calista cut off the comm. “Sorry about that, listeners. I fear you’ve just been exposed to another RezMat apologist. Could it be part of another publicity campaign?

  “OK, Vince, you’re on the air. What’s on your mind?”

  NEW YORK

  “Good morning, everyone! I’m Megyn Robbins and welcome to Morning Fresh. With me, as always, are my co-hosts Steve Brattle and Victor Langston.”

  “Good morning, Megyn!”

  “We’ll get to our weather and traffic bots in a moment, but let’s start with the shocking news that RezMat is behind the Sara campaign.”

  “I know,” said Victor. “Incredible news.”

  “RezMat is a great, great company, even if it is British,” said Steve. “And they’re under vicious attack right now from terrorist
organizations like LKC. So I understand why they would think out of the box with this Sara campaign.”

  “Sure,” said Megyn, “but it’s a little confusing. I mean, Sara is very pro-technology and makes a good case against LKC. But she also supported LKC on Life Stories, and she has this crazy message about taxing the rich and giving everyone money for free. Why would RezMat promote that?”

  “Well, Megyn, good thing we have our first guest to help us understand that. He’s Richard Masterson, a communications expert who was at North Carolina University before it converted to an all-AI format. Welcome, Richard.”

  “Good morning, Victor. Glad to be here.”

  “Richard, what do you make of the Sara’s Message campaign?”

  “Well, up until this revelation, I’d say it was brilliant. Perhaps one of the best omnipresence campaigns of the last twenty years.”

  “Why is that?” asked Megyn. “Isn’t her message contradictory and confusing?”

  “That’s the beauty of this campaign,” answered Richard. “People have become so attuned to one-sided messages that they pretty much dismiss them out of hand. By crafting a complex message that blends perspectives from both ends of the political spectrum, as well as emotional and spiritual hooks, RezMat was able to break through the noise in OP and get people to pay attention. We’re in an attention economy now, and RezMat found a way to capture the spotlight for several months.”

  “Wait,” persisted Megyn. “Help me understand. How did this campaign help RezMat?”

  “You have to remember that Sara’s primary message is that technology is good and can lead to a utopian future. That’s what RezMat needed to get out there to counteract the anti-technology terrorists.”

  “So, did it work?” asked Steve.

  “I think it was working until this connection leaked out,” answered Richard. “Now it’s just going to leave her followers confused. How will it impact the pro and anti-technology memes? We won’t know until new psychometric omnipresence analysis comes out in a few days.”

  “Thanks, Richard,” Megyn said. “Enlightening as always.”

  “In any case,” concluded Victor, “I’m sure that’s the last we’ll be hearing from Sara. I wonder if she’ll be able to get any other acting jobs.”

  “I heard the Bollywood VR producers are very interested,” laughed Steve.

  “Good idea! Go back to India, Sara!” laughed Victor. “You’re watching the only channel that brings you the truth, and nothing but the truth. Stay tuned.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  MACLEAN, VIRGINIA - JANUARY 9

  Amina Hamdi and Wei Chen were in the ENT Systems lab when the call came from Domestic Terrorism Task Force headquarters. They shuffled some equipment around so they could appear together in the holoconference.

  “So, is everything ready Doctor Hamdi?” asked Matt Chandler.

  “Yes, Agent Chandler,” replied Amina. “We did the last insertion half an hour ago and it should be ready in a few hours.”

  “And the brain modeling was clean on this subject?”

  “Yes,” said Wei Chen. “It was good we took the extra week. Our new uMRI scanner has provided us much better resolution. And the imaging team was able to build much more realistic simulations of the boyfriend and apartment building.”

  “I look forward to hearing from you,” said Chandler. “You are performing a great service to your country, thank you.”

  “Of course, Agent Chandler. It is our honor.” Amina cut the holoconference transmission. As if they had much choice, she thought. The Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency had fully funded their advanced VR training tech. If they didn’t “dual-use” their invention for DTTF, there’d be no more government funding. Upstairs, their sophisticated cylindrical units were called enhanced neural training simulators. Two levels below ground, in this highly restricted lab, they were interrogation pods.

  Melissa’s eyes flew open. Someone had slapped her on the cheek.

  Jacob’s panicked face loomed over her, washing in and out of focus. “Oh, thank God, Melissa. Come on—they’ll be here any minute!” He pulled her up off the floor of the tiny apartment. “Come on, get your bag. Let’s move!”

  Still woozy from fainting, she tried to get her bearings. She looked at the screen, still showing reports of the explosion, then at the table in the living room where he had painted the drone. Her PNA was chirping its GPS detection alarm urgently.

  Jacob shoved a black go bag into her hands. “This way!”

  He grabbed her hand and ran with her down the dimly lit hallway. They raced down the stairs to the basement, then underneath the building to a tunnel that twisted and turned under the city streets.

  She thought she heard micro-drone sounds behind them. Jacob stopped, out of breath. He handed her a PNA. “I’ll get the cloaks ready. Here, enter the master pass phrase to unlock it.”

  Melissa keyed the twenty-two character password into the unit, but it was rejected.

  “It’s not working!” The sound of drones grew louder.

  “Try it again!”

  Melissa frantically re-entered the pass phrase but got the same flashing red screen.

  “Melissa, which phrase are you using?”

  “‘redmastercurlbasepoker.’ Shit! Jacob, what are we going to do?” The drones sounded so close. She grabbed for his arm, but suddenly he was gone. There was just a silent blackness.

  “OK, that was good, very good. I’ll send the pass phrase over to Agent Chandler immediately.” Amina sent a secure message from her tablet to the DTTF agent, then pointed to the screen displaying data from the neural lace made of graphene nanowire embedded in Melissa’s brain. “Mental field resistance looks moderate, Wei Chen. How are her vitals?”

  “All good. Fast pulse and high adrenaline and cortisol levels, of course. But nothing dangerous. She tolerated the sim pretty well.”

  “Great. What’s the next scenario?”

  “Jacob asks Melissa for the location of the next attack.”

  “OK,” Amina said. “Let’s do it.”

  Jacob stopped in the dark tunnel, out of breath. He handed her a PNA. “I’ll get the cloaks ready. You program in the location of the next LKC attack. That’s our extraction point.”

  She looked at the screen in her hand. “What? What next attack?”

  He pointed at the device. “Melissa, focus! We’re running out of time! Enter the location of the next attack. That’s our extraction point.” The drone sounds grew closer.

  “We don’t know where that is!” she shouted. “How can I enter it?”

  Once Wei Chen heard Melissa’s response over the speakers, he shut down the simulation.

  “Nicely done,” Amina said, noting the results on her tablet. “But mental field resistance was up significantly on that run.”

  “Yes, and her vitals spiked too,” Wei Chen said, frowning. “Her heart rate jumped briefly over one-eighty.”

  “Do you think there’s any degradation of the nanowire assembly?”

  “Let me check.” Wei Chen manipulated a 3D model of Melissa’s brain, generated by a real-time uMRI scanner built into her pod. “I don’t see any problems with the neural lace assembly. Integrity is ninety-eight percent and it’s embedded correctly.”

  “Are we over-stimulating the amygdala?”

  “I don’t think so. We need her fear response high enough to hold down the mental field resistance. If anything, we may need to increase it.”

  “Hmm. Can her body handle another scenario today, or do we need to hold off until tomorrow morning?”

  “I’m not too worried,” Wei Chen said. “She’s young and healthy. Let’s give her half an hour for her vitals to settle down, and then run one more.”

  Jacob stopped in the dark tunnel, out of breath. He handed her a PNA with a nano-SD card inserted. “I’ll get the PPF cloaks ready. You tell Geneva we need an extraction.”

  She looked a
t the comm unit. “Geneva? But how?”

  “Use the signal,” he urged, pulling his cloak out and plugging it in.

  “What signal?” she cried.

  “Melissa, focus! We’re running out of time! Don’t you remember the signal?”

  She shook her head. “We don’t have a signal for reaching Geneva!” The drone sounds grew closer.

  “Then send her a message,” Jacob said, putting on the cloak. “Hurry!”

  “We don’t have an address! You know that! We never had one! What the hell is wrong with you?”

  Melissa felt a sudden sharp pain in her chest. The PNA shimmered in her hands. Jacob faded slightly, then suddenly disappeared.

  Her vision blurred. The pain intensified. She clutched her chest and gasped. She fell forward onto her knees.

  Then everything went black.

  “Damn it!” Wei Chen shouted. “Vitals are crashing!” His fingers flew over the simulation control panel.

  “Shut it down!” cried Amina, jumping out of her seat.

  “I am!” he said.

  The two of them stared at the erratic brain, respiratory, and pulse sensor outputs spiking, then flatlining with a monotonous tone filling the room. In unison, they glanced at the dozen silver interrogation pods a few feet away and easily picked out the one with the red flashing vitals screen.

  Amina groaned. “Shit!”

  “Now what?” asked Wei Chen.

  “I have to call Chandler,” said Amina, slumping back down in her chair.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  HOLOCONFERENCE- JANUARY 10

  Ellul called the LKC holoconference meeting to order. “Thanks to all who could join on short notice. Thoreau has some news and we have a decision to make. Go ahead Thoreau.”

  “I’ve been monitoring internal DTTF feeds to track any LKC-related investigations. This morning I saw a communication from an advanced interrogation facility in Virginia. They were using some kind of brain simulation device on Sparrow and things went bad and she ended up dead.” He referred to the operational code name they had given Melissa after they made contact with her and Jacob.