Terminal Compromise

by by Winn Schwartau

  "This town, the United States is run by lifers; people who have dedicated their lives to the American way of life. The military controls more than any American wants to know. State Department, Justice, HUD; each is its own monolithic bureaucracy that does not change direction overnight because of some election in Bum- fuck, Iowa. It takes four years to find your way through the corridors, and by then, odds are you'll be packing back to Maine, or Georgia or California or wherever you came from." Marvin Jacob's vitriolic oration was grinding on Miles, but he had to listen to his boss.

  "So when this country gets into trouble, someone has to do some- thing about it. God knows the politicians won't. This country was in real trouble and someone had to fix it. In this case it was me. It's been a decade since the first warnings about how vulnerable our computers, our economy, shit, our National Securi- ty were. The reports came out, and Congress decided to ignore them. Sure, they built up the greatest armaments in the history of civilization, sold the future for a few trillion, but they ne- glected to protect their investment." Jacobs angrily poured himself another drink.

  "I couldn't let that happen, so I decided that I needed to expose the weaknesses in our systems before somebody else did." Marvin spoke proudly. "And what better way than to fuck it up beyond all recognition. FUBAR. At least this way we were in charge, and we were able to pick the damage. Thanks to you. Lessons tend to be painful, and I guess we're paying for some of our past sins." He drank thirstily.

  "Did those sins mean that I would have to be arrested by the FBI? I couldn't say a thing; not the truth. They'd never have be- lieved me." Miles shuddered at the thought. "For a moment, I thought you might leave me to rot in jail."

  "Hey," Marvin said happily. "Didn't our people get you out, just like I promised? Less than an hour." He sounded proud of his efforts. "Besides, most of them were bullshit charges. Not worth the effort to prosecute."

  "I never underestimate the power of the acronym," Miles said about the NSA, CIA and assorted lettered agencies. "There was a lot of not so quiet whispering when it was released that the charges were dropped by the Federal Prosecutor. Think that was smart, so soon? Maybe we should have waited a couple of months."

  Jacobs looked up sharply at Miles' criticism of his actions but spoke with understanding. "We needed to get the cameras off of you and onto the real problem; it was the right thing to do. Your part is over. You started the war. Now it's up to me to stop it. It could not have gone any smoother. Yes," he re- flected. "It's time for us to take over. You have performed magnificently. We couldn't ask for any more."

  Miles sipped at his drink accepting the reasoning and asked, "I've wondered about a few things, since the beginning."

  "Now's as good a time as any," Marv said edging himself behind his desk. "I'd imagine you have a lot of holes to fill in."

  "How did you get Homosoto to cooperate? He seemed to fall right into place."

  "It was almost too easy," Jacobs commented casually. "We had a number of candidates. You'd be surprised how many people with money and power hold grudges against Uncle Sam," he snickered. "It's hard to believe, but true."

  "Meaning, if it wasn't him, it would have been someone else?"

  "Exactly. There's no shortage of help in the revenge business. There are still many hibakusha, survivors of Hiroshima and Naga- saki, who still want revenge on us for ending the war and saving so may lives. Ironic, isn't it? That someone like Homosoto is twisted enough to help us, just to fuel his own hatred," Marvin Jacobs asked rhetorically.

  "But he didn't know he was helping, did he?" Miles asked.

  "Of course not. Then he would have been running the show, and this was my production. No, it worked out just fine."

  Jacobs paused for more liquor and continued. "Then we have a few European industrialists, ex-Nazis who are available . . .the KGB, GRU, Colombian cartel members. The list of assets is long. Where's there's money, there's help, and most of them prefer the Yankee dollar to any other form of payment. They forget that by hurting us they also hurt the world's largest economy, as well as everybody else's and then the fiscal dominoes start falling uncontrollably."

  "You mean you bought him?" Miles asked.

  "Oh, no! You can't buy a billionaire, but you can influence his actions, if he thinks that it's his idea. It just so happens that he was the first one to bite. Health problems and all."

  "What problems?"

  "In all likelihood it's from the radiation, the Bomb; his doctors gave him a couple of years to live. Inoperable form of leukemia."

  "I didn't know . . ."

  "No one did. He insisted on complete secrecy. He had not picked a successor to run OSO, and in some ways he denied the reality."

  "Excuse my tired old brain, but you're talking Spook-Speak. How did you know . . .?"

  "Old habits . . ." Marvin agreed. "As you well know, from your employ here, we have assets in every major company in the world. Especially those companies that buy and sell elected officials in Washington. OSO and Homosoto are quite guilty of bribing their way into billions of dollars of contracts. Our assets, you see, can work in two directions. They let us know what's going on from the inside and give us a leg up on the G2. Then, we can plant real or false information when needed. The Cold Economic War."

  "So you told Homosoto what to do?" Miles followed closely.

  "Not in so many words." Marvin wasn't telling all, and Miles knew it. "We knew that through our assets we gave Homosoto and several others the idea that U.S. computers were extremely frag- ile. Back in 1983 the DoD and CIA prepared classified reports saying that computer terrorism was going to be the international crime of choice in the last decade of the century. Then the NRC, NSC and DIA issued follow-up reports that agreed with the origi- nal findings. We saw to it that enough detail reached Tokyo to show just how weak we were."

  Jacobs continued to tell Miles how the NSA effected the unwitting recruitment of Homosoto. "That, a well timed resignation on your part, and advertising your dissatisfaction with the government made you the ideal person to launch the attack." Marvin smiled widely holding his drink in the air, toasting Miles.

  Miles responded by raising his glass. "And then a suicide, how perfect." Jacobs did not return the salute, and Miles felt sudden iciness. "Right? Homosoto's suicide." Jacobs still said nothing. "Marv? It was a suicide, wasn't it?"

  "Miss Perkins was of great help, too," Marvin said ignoring Miles questions.

  "Perky? What's she got to do with this?" Miles demanded.

  "Oh? You really don't know?" Marvin was genuinely shocked. "I guess she was better than we thought. I thought you knew." He looked down to avoid Miles's eyes. "Didn't you think it odd . . .?"

  "That she introduced me to Homosoto?" Miles asked acrimoniously.

  "She didn't."

  "Of course she did," Miles contradicted.

  "We have a tape of the conversation," Marv disagreed. "All she did was ask you if you would work for a foreigner and under what circumstances. Perkins' job was to prep you for Homosoto or whoever else we expected to contact you. An admirable job, huh Miles?" Marvin Jacobs seemed proud of her accomplishments, and given the stunned gaping expression on Miles' face, he beamed even more. Miles didn't say a word, but his glazed eyes said loud and clear that he felt defiled.

  "I'm sorry Miles," Marvin said compassionately. "I really as- sumed you knew that she was a toy. You certainly treated her that way." No reaction. "If it helps any, she was on Homosoto's payroll. She was a double."

  Miles jerked his head back and then let out a long laugh. "Well, fuck me dead. Goddamn, she was good! Had me going. Not a fuck- ing clue." Miles stood from his chair and laughed and smiled at Marvin. "What a deal. I get blow jobs courtesy of the American taxpayer and you get paid to watch."

  "Miles, we know how you felt for her . . ."

  "Bullshit," Miles said quickly. "That's fucking bullshit." He pounded on the desk.

  "She's already on another assignment," Marvin said calmly.

&nb
sp; Miles couldn't completely hide the dejection, the feeling of loss, no matter how loudly he denied it. "Fuck her!" Miles exclaimed. He walked over to the high tech bar and made himself another strong drink. Perfect drink to get dumped by. "Another?" he asked Marvin who handed Miles his glass for a refill.

  "As I was saying," Marvin said, "this country owes you a thanks, beyond any medals or awards, and unfortunately, there is no way we can publicly express our appreciation." Marvin sat down with his drink and addressed Miles.

  "Hey," Miles said holding his hands in front of him. "I knew that going into the deal. I did my job, for my country, and maybe I lose some face, but I didn't do this for fame. Retiring in style, maybe the Alps is a nice consolation prize." The pain, so evident seconds ago about Stephanie, was gone. Miles gloated in his achievement.

  A low warble came from the phone on Marvin's desk. He read a message that appeared on the small message screen attached to the phone and struck a few keys in response. At that moment, the double doors from the Office-2 reception opened and in came Tyrone Duncan and two other FBI agents. Miles turned to see who was interrupting their meeting. It was the same man who had arrested him a few weeks before.

  Miles gulped deeply and felt his heart skip a beat. 'What the hell is going on', he thought. He quickly glanced at Jacobs. His pulse and respiration increased to the point of skin sweat and near hyper-ventilation.

  Tyrone spoke to the Director. "Mr. Jacobs, we are here to see Mr. Foster." Jacobs gestured to Miles in the deep chair across from the marble desk.

  Miles' mind raced. What was Marv doing? And Duncan again?

  "Mr. Foster," Tyrone Duncan said. Miles looked up. "You are under arrest for violation of the espionage and sedition laws of the United States of America. In addition, you are charged with violating the Official Secrets Act and . . ." Tyrone read off 94 federal crimes including racketeering and 61 assorted counts of conspiracy.

  As Tyrone read the extended list of charges, Miles shook to his core, turned to Marvin in abject terror. His face cried out, 'please, help me.' Jacobs watched with indifference as Tyrone continued with the new charges.

  "You have the right to remain silent . . ." Tyrone read Miles his Miranda rights as he lifted him from the chair to put on the cuffs.

  "Marv!" Miles shouted in panic. "This is a joke, and it's not funny . . .Marv . . .Jesus Fucking Christ!" Miles struggled like an animal. He thought he was free. "I'm the fucking fish food. Aren't I? Marv," he shouted even louder. "Aren't I?"

  "It seems to me that you've dug your own grave, son. I can't tell you how disappointed I am in your actions." Jacobs played the role perfectly.

  "You fucking liar! The President doesn't even know about what I did for you? Does he?" Miles was screaming as Tyrone and another agent restrained him by the arms. "Why not? You told me that this project had approval from the highest level."

  "Are you mad?" Marvin sounded like a caring parent admonishing a misbehaving lad who knew no better. "Do you think that he would have approved of such a plan? Ruin his own country? Is that why you went to Homosoto? Because we said you were crazy?"

  "You told me he approved it!" Miles screamed at Marvin. "You lied! About that, about Stephanie, what else have you lied to me about?"

  Jacobs sat silently as Tyrone turned the handcuffed Miles toward the door.

  "Why don't you just admit it? I'm the fucking fall guy for your scheme, aren't I?" Miles shouted. "Admit it goddamnit, admit it!"

  Jacobs looked down at his desk and shook his head from side to side as if he were terribly disappointed.

  "I'll get you, I will get you for this," Miles shrieked. "I trusted you, like a father and then you fuck me. Fucked me like every other dumb shit that works here." His vicousness intensi- fied. "Suck my dick!" he shouted with finality.

  Tyrone tugged at Miles to keep him from the Director's desk. "Is there anything else Director Jacobs?"

  "Yes, Agent Duncan, here." Jacobs opened a drawer and pulled out a large envelope, marked with Miles' name. Miles stared at it, eyes bulging with fear. Tyrone looked questioningly at Marvin.

  "I believe you will find enough in there to put Mr. Foster in Tokyo with Mr. Homosoto at the time he died." Tyrone took the package. "I think the Tokyo Police would be most interested in making a possible case for murder."

  Miles screamed, "scum bucket! You're fucking nuts." His vicious verbal assaults were aimed directly at Marvin who ignored them. "You know I had nothing to do . . .goddamn you! I spend five years of my life helping my country and you . . ."

  "I think very few would agree that what you've done can be con- sidered helpful."

  "I will get even! Even, do you hear!" Miles' voice was getting hoarse from the outrageous tirade.

  DIRNSA Marvin Jacobs raised his right hand to Tyrone indicating that Miles was dismissed. Miles continued bellowing at Marvin and Tyrone and the two other agents tried to keep him in tow. When they had left, and the door closed behind them, Jacobs pushed a button on his phone and spoke casually.

  "Miss Greeley? Could you please get me a 2:00 P.M. tee off time?"

  Epilogue

  The Year After

  The newspaper headlines during the first year of the attack revealed as much about the effects of the attacks on American society, its politics and economy as could any biased editorial. They ironically and to the dismay of many of those in the govern- ment, echoed the pulse of the country, regardless of the politi- cal leaning of the Op-Ed pages.

  Foster Indicted By Federal Grand Jury Faces 1800 Years If Convicted Washington Post

  Economy Loses $300 Billion in First 6 Months $1 Trillion Loss Possible Tampa Tribune

  Senator Urges Sanctions Against Japanese Washington Post

  NSA Admits Its Own Computers Sick New York City Times

  NASA Launch Stopped By Faulty Computers Orlando Sentinal

  McMillan Indicted Skips Country Employee's Testimony Crucial New York Post

  Credit Card Usage Down 84% Retailers In Slump Chicago Sun-Times

  OSO Denied Access to Government Contracts Investigation Expected to Take Years Los Angeles Times

  Most Companies Go Unprotected Do Nothing In Spite of Warnings USA Today

  Commercial Tempest Program Kicks Off Safe Computers Begin Shipping Houston Mirror

  Secret Service Stops Freedom BBS Software Company Built Viruses Tampa Tribune

  New York Welfare Recipients Suffer No Payments For 3 Months: 3rd Night of Riots Village Voice

  Allied Corporation Loses 10,000 Computers Viruses Smell of Homosoto Dallas Herald

  ACLU Sues Washington Class Action Privacy Suit First of a Kind Time Magazine

  3rd. Quarter Leading Indicators Dismal Deep Recession Predicted If 4th. Qtr. Is Worse Wall Street Journal

  Supreme Court Rules on Privacy 4th Amendment Protects E-Mail San Diego Union

  Waves of VCR Failures Plague Manufacturers OSO Integrated Circuits Blamed San Jose Register

  Mail Order Ouch! Thousands of Dead Computers Kill Sales Kansas City Address

  Chicago Traffic SNAFU New York Tie Up Remembered Chicago Sun Times

  Homosoto Worked For Extraterrestrials Full Scale Alien Invasion Imminent National Enquirer

  * * * * *

  Power to the People

  by Scott Mason

  The last few months have taught me, and this country, a great deal about the technology that has been allowed to control our lives. Computers, mainframes, mini computers, or millions of personal computers they do in fact control and monitor our every activity, for better or for worse. A marriage of conven- ience?

  Now, though, it appears to be for worse.

  I am reminded of the readings of Edgar Cayce and the stories that surround the myth of Atlantis. According to Cayce and legend, Atlantis was an ancient ante-deluvian civilization that developed a fabulous technology which achieved air flight, levitation, advanced medical techniques and harnessed the sun's energy.

  However, the power to control the technology whi
ch had exclusive- ly been controlled by the high priests of Atlantis was lost and access to the technology was handed to the many peoples of that ancient culture. Through a series of unintentional yet reckless events, the Atlanteans lost control of the technology, and de- spite the efforts of the Priests, their cities and cultures were destroyed, eventually causing Atlantis to sink to the bottom of the depths of the Atlantic Ocean.

  Believing in the myth of Atlantis is not necessary to understand that the distribution of incredible computing power to 'everyman' augers a similar fate to our computerized society. We witnessed our traffic systems come a halt, bringing grid lock to small rural communities. Our banks had to reconstruct millions upon millions of transactions in the best possible attempt at recon- ciliation. The defensive readiness of our military was in ques- tion for some time before the Pentagon was satisfied that they had cleansed their computers.

  The questions that arise are clearly ones to which there are no satisfying responses. Should 'everyman' have unrestrained access to tools that can obviously be used for offensive and threatening purposes? Is there a level of responsibility associated with computer usage? If so, how is it gauged? Should the businessman be subject to additional regulations to insure security and privacy? Are additional laws needed to protect the privacy of the average citizen? What guarantees do people have that infor- mation about them is only used for its authorized purpose?

  Should 'everyman' have the ability to pry into anyone's personal life, stored on hundreds of computers?

  One prominent group calling themselves FYI, Freeflow of Your Information, represented by the ACLU, represents one distinct viewpoint that we are likely to hear much of in the coming months. They maintain that no matter what, if any, restrictive mandates are placed on computer users, both are an invasion of privacy and violation of free speech have occurred. "You can't regulate a pencil," has become their informal motto emblazoned across t-shirts on campuses everywhere.