Netcast: Zero

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Netcast: Zero Page 5

by Ryk Brown


  Reply: That is all of them.

  Hanna looked around, noticing several sets of orbs deployed in the most common fashion. With so many in attendance, a single group of FI camera orbs had to be shared by all. Message: You guys set back there? she wondered.

  Reply: Took Graham about a minute to bring the shared feed and calibrate your POV coordinates. The guy may be an ass, but he is good at what he does, I’ll give him that.

  Message: He doesn’t complain about boring assignments, either, I noticed. He didn’t say a word about doing a press conference with a shared feed.

  Reply: We were lucky to get this gig, Arielle messaged. I guess he wasn’t kidding when he said he was bored. I thought we’d lose him to another gig after the first few days sitting around Boston.

  Hanna sighed. Message: I believe I’ve apologized for that enough now.

  The murmur in the room began to fade as several representatives from the GDCO entered the room. A mixture of epidemiologists and bureaucrats, both male and female took the stage, totaling eight people in all. Hanna’s heart sank a little. If every one of them were going to speak, it was going to be a long press conference. I guess I’m getting what I deserve, she thought.

  A message from Arielle appeared in her personal space.

  From Arielle: Third from the right. Isn’t that Dr. Benarro? Hanna’s spirits fell even further still.

  Hanna’s eyes returned to the stage, spotting Doctor Benarro. Reply: Crap, now I’ll never get picked for a question.

  From; Arielle: Relax, you’re six rows back, and the majors are all present. You’d never have gotten picked anyway. Of course, if you hadn’t alienated Doctor Benarro…

  Reply: Not helping, Hanna thought.

  “Ladies and gentlemen of the press,” the man at the podium called over the loudspeakers, “if you’ll take your seats, we’ll get started momentarily.”

  Message; Arielle: I don’t even know why we’re here, Hanna thought.

  Reply: You know how it works, Hanna, Arielle’s answer read across Hanna’s visual space. An agency has to have a reporter present, or they don’t get to jack into the feed. It’s been that way since the virtual presence reform act of twenty-four thirty.

  Message: I know why, Hanna thought, I’m just saying it’s a stupid rule.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m Doctor Donovan Mesnard, Senior Press Officer for the GDCO here in the Americas.”

  Reply: Stop whining and pay attention.

  Message: Hey, isn’t that the guy that Constance interviewed on NCN:World the other night? Hanna thought as the speaker introduced the rest of the people on the stage.

  Reply: Yes, it is. It was a good interview. Really good.

  Hanna scowled slightly. Message: Yes, it was good. I still hate her, though.

  “At this time, the GDCO regrets to report that all eight hundred and fourteen suspected cases of Klaria reported in the city of Sorel have been confirmed. Not only is this another Klaria outbreak, but it is also one of the fastest moving outbreaks of the Klaria virus we have seen since the first case was reported just over eleven months ago.”

  Hands began to shoot up in the air, as reporters from dozens of news agencies, both big and small began shouting for attention as they vied for a chance to ask questions. As expected, Constance Gerard was the first called.

  “Constance Gerard, Netcast News World,” she began as she stood.

  Message; Arielle: Hanna thought. God, she always looks perfect, doesn’t she? She probably rolls out of bed looking that well put together.

  Reply: She’s got wardrobe and makeup specialists following her around twenty-four-seven, Hanna, Arielle answered. She probably looks like Graham when she rolls out of bed.

  Hanna fought back a laugh.

  “How many lives has the Sorel outbreak of Klaria claimed, and has there been any change noted in the transmission method?”

  “The Sorel outbreak of Klaria has claimed the lives of six hundred and thirty-seven people as of this morning. That is over an eight day period, which is remarkably fast, even for Klaria. As for the second part of your question, I’ll save that for Doctor Benarro to answer later in the conference.”

  Hanna watched as Constance Gerard nodded politely and sat back down. Another message appeared in her personal visual space.

  From; Unknown: Ask the question again.

  Hanna’s eyes squinted in thought. Then she responded. Reply: Arielle? Is that you? Your ID tag didn’t come through.

  Hanna waited for a response while another reporter asked a question of Doctor Mesnard. After a minute passed, she messaged Arielle directly. Message; Arielle: Did you just message me?

  Reply: No. Something wrong?

  Message: Nothing. Wrong number I guess.

  Reply: Shouldn’t you have your comm filters set to hold all other messages but mine right now?

  Message: I thought I did. Hanna commanded her communications settings menu to appear in her visual space to check. Message: It is. Weird.

  Reply: Maybe you should have your comm-firmware checked later?

  From; Unknown: Ask the question again, Hanna.

  A look of concern came across Hanna’s face. Reply: Who is this? What question?

  Again there was a long pause. Hanna called up the message details in her visual space, checking for source and routing codes, but there were none.

  Message; Unknown: The question you asked Doctor Benarro five days ago. Ask it again. Maybe Doctor Mesnard will be more receptive.

  Reply: WHO IS THIS? Hanna began looking around the room, hoping to see Graham laughing in the corner as he perpetrated a joke on her. But Graham was standing next to Arielle, and his facial expressions indicated that his mind was busy with the FI data stream that he was linked to. Besides, she doubted that Graham would have the expertise required to remove all source and routing codes from messages. And the fact that each message was a new message, rather than a continuation of an ongoing thread meant that each new message was being routed differently. She had interviewed enough hackers and digital security experts to know that much. Someone truly unknown to her was sending her messages, and that someone had seen the raw footage they had shot at Doctor Benarro’s office.

  Message; Arielle: Who was the client for the Benarro assignment?

  Reply: Tri-state, out of New York. Why?

  Message: Just curious.

  Reply: You need to stay focused. What’s wrong with you, Hanna?

  Message: I’m focused, I’m focused.

  From; Unknown: One more time, Hanna. Ask the question again.

  Reply: If you work for Tri-State, then retain me now if you want me to ask a question on your behalf.

  From; Unknown: I work for no one. Ask the question.

  Reply: How are you getting my replies if you scrubbed the source and routing codes from your messages?

  From; Unknown: My, my, aren’t you a good little reporter. Good little reporters ask questions, don’t they? So ask the question.

  Reply: I’m not going to ask that question. It was a stupid question.

  From; Unknown: No, it wasn’t. You were correct about the link between Twister and Klaria. Twister causes Klaria.

  Reply: How the hell would you know?

  There was another pause.

  From; Unknown: Simple. I wrote it.

  Hanna looked around frantically, exactly why, she didn’t know. Then she looked down at the floor. Should I tell Arielle? She wondered, but chose against it for fear that her friend would think she was making it up to justify pulling another ratings stunt and then leave her. She couldn’t make it without Arielle. She just couldn’t.

  Hanna took a deep breath and concentrated, as the initial question and answer period of the press conference wound down. Reply: Pr
ove it.

  From; Unknown: As you wish. Your friend, Doctor Gabriel Benarro, is about to die of a heart attack.

  Hanna felt her skin grow cold, and a chill shot down her spine. She looked at the stage, her eyes on Doctor Benarro. He was perspiring, and he looked pale. He pulled at his collar, as if it were too tight. Realizing something was wrong, he leaned over to the woman seated next to him on the stage and whispered something to her. The woman reacted immediately, signaling for help.

  Doctor Benarro slumped over, falling forward. The woman next to him caught him and eased him to the floor. It was the last thing that Hanna saw, as everyone in the room stood at once, gasping.

  Hanna also stood, struggling to see through the crowd of reporters. FI orbs suddenly filled the room, whizzing over the heads of the reporters as videographers in the back of the room deployed their own gear against protocol in order to get images of what was happening on stage. The GDCOs orbs went dark, returning to the docking stations at the back of the room.

  “Please! Everyone! Get back!” someone ordered over the loudspeakers.

  Hanna’s personal visual space suddenly flashed another message.

  From; Graham: I’m sending you live imaging.

  The next message warned Hanna of an incoming video stream, which she immediately accepted. The video was standard two-dimensional video, as none of the videographers, including Graham, wanted to waste time setting up their own FI shot. In moments, the event would be shutdown and the transmissions from their orbs would be jammed by the GDCO tech guys.

  The view was from above and to one side, moving from left to right as the image faded into view and filled her visual space, blocking out what her own eyes were seeing. Another message flashed.

  From; Arielle: Hanna! Voice over commentary!

  Hanna stumbled for a moment. Her mind was spinning, and she was having a hard time believing what was happening. I’m a reporter! she told herself. She commanded her comm-unit to send her voice directly to Graham. “This is Hanna Bohl, at the Montreal office of the Global Disease Control Organization, where respected epidemiologist and former director of the GDCO has just collapsed during a press conference from what appears to be a heart attack.”

  The image in her visual space shifted about, as Graham maneuvered to avoid colliding with the dozens of orbs shifting about, all of them trying to get the best angle possible. She could see that someone was performing chest compressions, and that another person was attaching a palm-sized auto-defibrillator to Doctor Benarro’s now bare chest.

  “It appears that CPR has been started, and that a defibrillator is also in place…”

  Several more GDCO employees rushed into the room, followed by several security personnel that immediately began pushing the reporters back.

  “Let’s clear the room!” one of the security guards yelled.

  The video image in Hanna’s personal visual space disappeared. “It appears that we just lost our camera feeds,” she reported as the crowd began to move toward the exits, taking her with them. “This is Hanna Bohl, for…” Her mind went blank. Who had hired them?

  From; Arielle: QNE! QNE!

  “…Quebec News Exchange.”

  The security guards continued to herd the crowd of reporters, and their crews toward the exits. Hanna could hear someone shouting that the conference would reconvene at a later time, but no one said when.

  Moments later she found herself outside the building. She stepped to the side, feeling the need to get away from the crowd of chattering reporters and videographers. She turned from side to side, searching the dispersing crowd for Arielle and Graham, but could not see them. Exasperated and overwhelmed, she moved off to the side to get away from everyone, finally coming to rest against the wall. Another message appeared in her personal visual space.

  From; Unknown: You should have asked the question, Hanna. Maybe now you’ll listen.

  Reply: How is this possible? Why would you do this?

  From; Unknown: I wrote it, I control it… I will be in touch.

  * * *

  Hanna sat staring at her untouched cup of tea. She had lied to Arielle, telling her that she needed to use the restroom, promising to rejoin her later outside the GDCO building. She simply couldn’t be around anyone right now. She was too confused.

  I just got a man killed, because I refused to ask a question. The thought kept running through her head, making her ill. A question!

  In a single moment, her confidence, her dreams, everything she had worked for over the last decade… it all seemed to fade into insignificance. How could she live with herself?

  Not once in the past had it occurred to her that her actions, or even her inactions, could be the cause of some other event, good or bad. She had always believed that she was simply bringing truth and understanding to the world, by reporting on what she had witnessed. How could she continue, knowing that she could inadvertently bring harm to others?

  Hanna contemplated quitting right then and there. She could return to San Diego. Even if she had no money left in her account, her parents would pay for her ticket home. They had never liked her gypsy life-style. She could find a job in an office somewhere. She could lead an average life, maybe even meet someone…

  Her train of thought was interrupted when she noticed Graham at the counter at the far end of the cafe. She lowered her head, picking up her oversized cup of tea which was now cold, to hide her face. She really didn’t want to talk to anyone right now, and certainly not Graham.

  Graham noticed her as he paid for his coffee. They made eye contact.

  Please don’t come over, please don’t come over… The thought kept repeating in her mind.

  Graham turned and headed toward her.

  Damn it!

  Graham walked up to the booth and took a seat across from her without saying a word. He added a few packets of sugar to his coffee and began to stir.

  Hanna looked at him, wondering why he hadn’t uttered a word. She didn’t want to talk to anyone, then again, it was odd that he wasn’t saying anything.

  Graham finished stirring his coffee and took a sip. “First time?”

  Hanna looked at him, a quizzical look on her face.

  “Seeing someone die,” Graham added.

  “Oh. Yeah.”

  “Had a reporter drop dead of a stroke once, on camera, in the middle of a report.”

  “Really?”

  “Yup. One minute he was yapping away at the camera about some rebel attack, the next he was on the ground, on his side, his arms drawn up like a monkey waiting for you to hand him a peanut.”

  Hanna said nothing.

  “You know what I did?”

  Hanna still didn’t speak, only raised her eyebrows slightly.

  “I kept recording. I kept all my orbs on him. Caught every second of it.”

  “You didn’t help him?” Hanna wondered, a bit shocked.

  “What the hell was I going to do for him?” Graham said. “Besides, our producer and two security guards were already pawing all over him, for all the good it did.”

  “Still, it seems awfully cold…”

  “No, it’s not. It’s what we do. It’s our job. Civilization needs us. They need us to show them what is going on outside their little spheres of reality, and how it might affect them. It’s a connection with the rest of humanity. Without it, we revert back to a bunch of tribes clustered around our own little campfires to stave off the night.”

  “But the guy had just dropped dead, Graham.”

  “Yeah, and I showed it, in full immersion, I might add. Because of that, how many people suddenly started taking better care of themselves? How many people started seeing their doctor more frequently? How many people went ahead and shelled out the cash to get health nanites? How many
people realized that life was short, and you had to live it to the fullest while you still can?”

  “All that, because you recorded a guy dropping dead?” Hanna’s left eyebrow shot up.

  “Probably not, but you get my point.”

  “Yeah, I guess I do.” Hanna looked back down at her tea.

  “That wasn’t it though, was it?”

  “Huh?”

  “There’s something else.”

  “No, that was it.”

  “Bullshit. I was jacked into Ari’s comm-streams, and I noticed the expressions on your face during the press conference. You were exchanging messages with someone, and it wasn’t Arielle.”

  “Not bad,” Hanna said. “You should be a reporter.”

  “I’ve been doing this a long time.”

  “I’ve got to work on controlling my facial expressions while messaging,” Hanna mumbled.

  “So who was it?”

  Hanna hesitated, unsure if she should share what had happened with him. Finally, she took a deep breath, letting it out slowly in a long sigh. “What if you knew something? Something really big. But telling someone could cause a world of problems, possibly turning your whole world upside down.”

  “You’re still holding onto that Twister-causes-Klaria idea, aren’t you?”

  Hanna sighed again. “I had, I really had…”

 

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