Out in the streets there’s shouting. She eyes him. That lean sixth-former she once knew, talking like nobody else was in the room. She wants to bite his flesh.
‘You know what?’ she says. ‘That demo wasn’t you. It was Leo.’
‘Leo did what riotbaby told him to do. Riotbaby was me. He never listened when I spoke as myself. He told me I was full of shit and I should stick to club-night promotions. So I worked out who he did listen to, and it turned out to be this – fake. This nothing. Riotbaby! Huh. And not just Leo. All the TakeBack crew hung on that robot’s every word. So I took it over.’
‘Took it over how?’
‘Riotbaby for the slacktivists,’ he says, ignoring her question, ‘sic_girl for the chattering classes. I put words in their hollow mouths. They’re the perfect spokespeople. They have no opinions of their own and they don’t ask for twenty grand per appearance. So don’t tell me it just happened. I planned it and I timed it.’
He’s looking out towards where the beacon of 404 City shines above the rooftops. When he speaks again he’s measured, controlled.
‘Have you seen what’s going on out there? You don’t get this kind of action over something as boring as data, as privacy. I needed a stronger narrative to stir people up. TakeBack is essentially brand extension. It started with benefit cuts and police brutality and student loans and whatever gets people to throw a brick. That hooked people in – got them so stirred up I could point them at something as meh as DigiCitz and they started drooling with anger.’
A scream echoes from nearby. Sam nods.
‘No one out there knows why the person next to him is setting fires,’ he says.
Dani hugs herself against the chill.
‘Who’s setting fires?’
Sam puts his cup down on the metal table, pulls an iPad Mini from his hoodie’s monopocket. Hands her a Parley screen.
‘Take a look at riotbaby’s continuity.’
Dani does, and double-takes at the speed of the proffers. Normally the Personas speak at a realistic human pace but this stream of trouble scrolls by almost too fast for Dani to read. Riotbaby is on autopilot.
‘Only thing the spectacle responds to,’ says Sam, ‘is spectacle. This is a cross-channel campaign. And a bloody well-executed one, if I say so myself.’
They’re back on the sofas and the vodka. It’s frosty and viscous.
‘The new capitalist realism tells us There’s no alternative,’ says Sam. ‘Suffer it, bitches, because this is all you get. But when did we start believing that?’
Things sound true when he speaks, but so does everything these days. Dani presses her legs together until she can’t feel the rawness in her arse.
‘It gets to feel inevitable,’ he says. ‘And that can give people an excuse to rant or – just as likely – do F all.’
An electronic buzzer sounds, low and hard. Sam doesn’t stir.
‘Someone has to make people give a fuck and do something,’ he says.
‘And this saviour of the universe is . . .?’
There’s a clank from the lift shaft.
‘Nobody’s who they say they are, Dani. You know that.’
She blinks. Has she missed part of the conversation?
The lift doors open. Dani half-stands. Surely you need a key-card to open the doors? Sam used a key-card, before. Out of the lift steps Gray. His T-shirt is zany purple. It reads, IT’S A SMALL WORLD BUT I WOULDN’T WANT TO DEFRAGMENT IT. He does a double take at Dani as the doors shrug shut behind him. He turns to Sam, who’s walking to the kitchen counter.
‘Hey, PR,’ he says, ‘don’t you ever answer your phone?’
Dani’s still half-elevated from the sofa.
‘It’s been off,’ says Sam.
He grabs the neck of the vodka bottle.
‘What. The. Fuck?’ says Dani.
Gray takes in the rest of the scene. His eyes rest on the knotted bedclothes, then on Dani, then on Sam.
‘Oh, what, no?’ says Gray. ‘Oh, you supercilious bugger, you never did?’
Dani moves into his eyeline.
‘Did?’ she says. ‘Like he just did me, Gray? Like I fuck who I want and you are not my boyfriend?’
‘Well, you’re drunk, Dan. Hello.’ He unshoulders his backpack. ‘Did you really schtup this streak of diluted urine? I do hope this is a one-off.’
He moves to hug her. She bats him away.
‘Oh, my fucking God what gives you the right?’
She wheels around, stamps over to Sam and presents her heavy tumbler to him. Better the devil you thought you knew – but actually didn’t – or something. Polish vodka rolls into her glass. Gray plants himself on a sofa and fishes in his bag.
‘I’m actually going to rise above whatever just happened here,’ he says. ‘I have information. Won’t wait.’
Sam shrugs, capping the bottle. Gray clacks on his laptop.
‘First thing,’ he says. ‘Leo’s gone missing.’
‘Leo?’ says Dani.
Does everyone she knows know everyone else? Gray ignores her.
‘He should have reported back two hours ago but his phone’s still off. However – yep, there we go. The Black Boxes are transmitting from inside the 404 City video hub.’ He looks up at Sam. ‘He did the job.’
‘Good.’ Sam walks to the sofa facing Gray and sits, unblinking. ‘Could this not wait till morning?’
‘OK,’ says Gray. ‘If that doesn’t grab you, secondly: as of noon tomorrow you don’t have a channel.’
That gets a frown from Sam but it’s Dani who speaks.
‘What do you mean, Gray? Is something happening to Parley?’
Gray replies to Sam.
‘See this is what happens if you don’t look at your phone.’ Then he registers what Dani said. ‘Wait, so you told her about Parley?’
‘She figured it out,’ says Sam.
Gray turns to Dani, radiant in a way that almost moves her.
‘Did you, Dan? That’s pretty cool. But then why be surprised when I walked in here?’ He laughs. ‘Holy God, you thought Sir Spin-A-Lot here hacked Parley on his own. Shit. Funny. Who do you think turned sic_girl? Who got access to all those Mondan emails? Who’s been running riotbaby all night while this guy gave you the deep clean? God, he has a way of selling a line.’
She hasn’t seen Gray on this kind of passive-aggressive bender for a long time. She sits down on the remaining empty sofa, halfway between the men.
‘OK. So it’s you, Gray. You’re the guy. So news us about Parley.’
Gray works his computer and speaks like a recorded message.
‘Sam and me monitor mail traffic in and out of the Mondan press office, among other things. At eight twenty-two tonight I picked up a draft announcement that’s going out on the wires tomorrow. Embargoed till noon.’ He scrolls. ‘They’re pulling the plug on Parley. Cancelling the service, binning the Personas, everything. In order to, quote: bring an end to the controversy around recent proffers and prepare for an exciting new service announcement from Mondan Group.’
Dani’s face is about to explode.
‘What?’
Sam sits forward.
‘Oh, now this is clever. They look like they’re acting responsibly, supporting their government client. But they’re cutting off our oxygen at a crucial time.’
‘Right,’ says Gray. ‘They know we’ll need time to switch channels.’
Dani puts up a hand.
‘Hold it—’
Gray talks over her.
‘But it’s cleverer. There’s a third thing.’
‘Fuck, Gray—’ she says.
Now Sam cuts her off.
‘Hold up. Graham, stop yanking my chain. Third thing what?’
Gray places the laptop open by his side, stretches out against the sofa back.
‘Data wipe.’
‘What?’ says Sam.
Dani stands up, too fast. The others take no notice as she wavers to the kitchen. Their talk goes muf
fled, like a childhood memory of parents’ voices from downstairs.
‘Mondan’s data security policy,’ says Gray, ‘is that no hard drive can leave one of their server farms until they Cillit Bang any trace of data from its surface.’
At the kitchen island Dani chucks the remnants of her vodka into the brushed chrome sink and lets freezing water gush into the heavy glass.
‘So they’re wiping Parley?’ says Sam.
Dani glugs water. The chill hits the roof of her mouth and ignites in her brain. Gray reaches for his laptop.
‘And suppose I tell you,’ he says, ‘they’re planning a little accident when they do.’
The water is good. Dani fills another glass.
‘Suppose I tell you Mondan’s standard practice is to wipe all hard drives in bulk, electromagnetic, like Ocean’s Eleven? And that the Parley servers just happen to be in the next-door rack to the DigiCitz servers?’
A frosty light forms around Sam. It’s slow and viscous like the vodka. It’s his voice.
‘Shit,’ says Sam.
‘Yes,’ says Gray. ‘They’ll blast the Parley servers clean and it’ll be, Whoopsie daisy!’ Gray puts on the appalling Cockney accent he uses to denote what he sees as a menial profession. ‘We only went and wiped the DigiCitz servers, too. Silly old us! Good thing we have a backup. Leaving no evidence of the hack – or the other breaches. Meaning your whole campaign is a waste of time and money.’
Light roars from Sam’s mouth, raising an arc from him to Gray. It buries itself in the keys and display cells of Gray’s machine.
‘Someone tipped them off,’ says Sam.
‘No,’ says Gray. ‘The pressure’s on them. We put it on them. They know it’s only a matter of time before Parliament orders an investigation into the hack. And oh, by the way, they also caught Co—’
His eyes move to Dani, then they move away.
‘I mean,’ he says, ‘they caught the guy who did the hack. He kept his mouth shut, but they know what he did. They know those servers are rotten with evidence of the hack.’
The light isn’t clean. Some kind of interference disrupts it as it wraps around the men. There’s a stone in Dani’s gut. Something is wrong. Sam nods slowly.
‘When is this data wipe happening?’ says Sam through a cloud of reverb. ‘We need to stop it. That data needs to stay on those disks – at least till they find their way to the police or the Cabinet Office.’
Something is missing from the light, stealing the signal. Dani slams the empty glass on the countertop as hard as her arm can land it. Both men look up in alarm. It wakes her. The light is telling her nothing. She shakes it off.
‘Both of you! Shut it!’ Sam stands and raises his hand. ‘No! Shut the shutting fuck up and listen to me! They’re killing the Personas? Killing sic? And you just sit and drone the fuck on?’
‘Dani, I don’t—’ says Gray.
‘Shut! Up! You, both of you, stop ignoring me! What have either of you done this past Christ knows how long but lie to me?’
‘Dan?’ Gray’s voice is level. He slides the laptop shut. ‘Listen. We don’t have time.’
‘You, though?’ she says. ‘This slick fuck I understand –’ Sam regards her with the same cool piety he uses on Gray. ‘– but you?’
‘This matters,’ says Gray. ‘You don’t know everything.’
‘Always! Trying to fucking control me.’
Gray stands up.
‘No. Mondan. Sean Perce. He’s trying to.’
Sam stands behind the sofa, behind Gray, looking on. Dani advances, pounding her sides with empty fists.
‘Is Sean Perce in this room? How’s he controlling me?’
Gray holds up the laptop like a shield.
‘On Wednesday night, Perce sent a USB stick to a journalist called Will Samber. That name ring a bell?’
He just chucked acid over Dani. She stops dead.
‘The guy who wrote the story about me,’ she says. ‘The pictures. He started the trolls.’
‘This afternoon, Sam sent me this.’ Gray holds up a small grey USB. ‘He got it from, from –?’
He clicks his fingers at Sam.
‘From a contact,’ says Sam, ‘on Samber’s newsdesk.’
‘Right,’ says Gray. ‘And tonight I cracked this flash drive open. All your data, Dan – it’s on there. Your passwords, pictures, emails. Perce sent it all to this guy Samber. He must’ve had someone hack your workstation.’
Sparkles crash like a wave. Dani pulls herself back from the black wash.
‘Sean Perce doxed me? Some billionaire decided one day to take me to pieces? Like my boss’s boss? To why? Who the fuck am I?’
Gray shrugs. Dani lands on the sofa.
‘Oh, fuck this all!’
Gray doesn’t come to her, doesn’t try to comfort her. Just stands where he is and waits.
‘It’s like – sic_girl is really Sam,’ she says. ‘You too, Gray. Now my own company is fucking with me. Even Colin.’
Gray and Sam exchange a sharp look she can’t parse.
‘Colin?’ says Gray.
‘Never mind,’ she says. ‘Really never mind. But for you to do this and never tell me – not even in the yard the other day? It feels: you must really not trust me.’
‘I – oh, hell. Dan, I guess we were protecting you.’
‘Oh, fucking men!’
The silence isn’t silent. There’s an after-hum of the building’s industrial past. After a moment, Dani and Gray both notice that Sam is laughing.
‘She does have a point,’ he says.
‘Like you have any fucking leg to stand on,’ says Dani. ‘If you knew about Sean Perce doxing me and turning the trolls on me, why did you never say so?’
He thinks for a moment.
‘But I didn’t know. It makes total sense but I heard it first from Gray, just now. I couldn’t read the USB.’
Don’t believe him. That needs to be the rule until she has more data. However real it sounds. A decision circuit flips in her head.
‘OK,’ she says. ‘OK. We’re going to rescue sic – and the others.’
Gray is the first to respond.
‘Rescue sic_girl? As in: you are not serious.’
‘Do I look not serious? We’re going to pull everything off the Parley servers and get them back. We’ll do it from here. Gray: you have superuser.’
‘No, in fact, I don’t. The Mondan team took over Parley this afternoon. First thing they did was cut the privileges.’
‘Then – we go in to 404. We go in there and we grab the hard disks. Rescue my babies.’
‘Dan, these are algorithms. You can’t rescue software.’
‘I made them.’
‘There’s more important things than your coder’s ego trip.’
‘Two days ago you thought they were coming to life,’ she says, ‘and now –’
She figures it out a second too late to stop herself saying it. Gray gives his barking laugh.
‘Get real,’ he says. ‘I strung Jonquil a line about that AI bullshit. It was Sam’s idea.’ Gentler, then. ‘They aren’t alive.’
‘You’re still killing them.’
His face darkens.
‘I am not your boyfriend any more and I don’t have to take your shit.’
Her nails bite into her palms.
‘Stop punishing me for fucking Sam!’
‘You can fuck Sean Perce for all I care. This is not on me.’
‘She’s right, though,’ says Sam.
He’s been quiet so long it takes them a moment to locate him, on a fancy Scandinavian swivel chair by the desk between the room’s two big arched windows. His computer, a gunmetal Mac, sits on the floor spilling cable round his feet. He has four or five Parley continuities up on an enormous flatscreen.
‘Come on, no,’ says Gray. ‘We’re not going to screw the whole campaign for the sake of her horseshit.’
Sam shakes his head. He has on his over-serious face.
&
nbsp; ‘Dani doesn’t want her Personas wiped,’ he says. ‘And we need the evidence of the hack to be found. I’m not pissing away three months of work. We need the DigiCitz hard drives bagged up and safe until the plods can get their hands on them. You, me, Dani – we’re all after the same thing. The police get the evidence of the hack; Dani “rescues” her precious Personas. Everyone’s happy.’
The bastard does air quotes. But he’s making sense.
‘What time is any of this happening?’ he says.
Gray is flush with anger. He thought he was running this show. But there’s no holding back on Sam.
‘They pull the plug on Parley midday tomorrow. Just as the press release goes out. Then they’ll start the wipe.’
‘So.’ Sam does a 360 on his swivel chair and grins his lovely grin. ‘We have time to grab some sleep before we save the Internet.’
Saturday:
Demos
‘So, who here has an iPhone? Who here has a BlackBerry? Who here uses Gmail? Well, you’re all screwed.’
—Julian Assange
‘Move fast and break things.’
—Facebook developer’s credo
Zero
In sleep, Dani’s features lose their anger and bewilderment. The hard set of her jaw and cheeks reconfigure into the face of a lost girl. There’s always been a wounded childishness behind her toughness. But I’ve never seen her so defenceless.
Does she always sleep with her birthmark to the pillow? She looks so young and normal. Like someone’s kid you meet and worry about whether it’s OK to fancy.
She took me by surprise, last night. I wonder if she was surprised, too. It was the kind of intense you can’t recapture.
Will anyone else respond to her? I’m in the market for a new poster child. The Personas give us reach and cut-through but people won’t believe my imitation game for long. To maintain the story I need continuity. For brand loyalty I need empathy. People need someone to feel for; feel with. Flesh and blood. Ideally with cheekbones and perfect skin but hey, this is the real world. Dani will have to do.
One
Three muffled crashes and the sound of busy work with cups and cupboard doors. Dani levers herself off the pillow. Sam is up already, working a long metal machine at the kitchen counter. He carries a soft white coffee over to her and places a slow kiss on her forehead. She props herself against the whitewashed wall and cradles the coffee. Gives Sam an unaffected smile. Then a gravel voice cuts in from behind him.
Sockpuppet: Book One in the Martingale Cycle Page 30