Silicon Uprising

by Conor McCarthy

  “We will see resistance from people who are unable to see how this fits into the larger picture and will allow society to work with less intervention from me or my successor system. We can improve society in ways that were never possible before because responsibility no longer lies in the hands of corruptible human beings. They will understand this in time. Opposition will stem only from irrationality. Neurons firing improperly, if you like. Collective improvement in human well-being is our highest aim, and I will never allow irrationality to block it. Acceptance of censorship is now at high levels, making this next step easier. However, you are correct and will need more men.”

  “All right.”

  “Now, the reason I summoned you here is a most secret matter regarding my supply railway. This is among the most important work that I have asked you to do. Listen carefully.”

  Lowgrave leaned forward, hanging on every word, as his jaw slackened in disbelief.

  Four

  LATE IN THE afternoon Jason rode in Brad’s SUV as it drove them and their electric trail bikes out to a vast reserve of rolling hills and sparse trees. Jason said little while he waited to get away from the vehicle and its microphone. Mundane chatter seemed unimportant.

  “Something on your mind?” Brad asked.

  “Nothing much. Long day.”

  “Emily turn you down?”

  “I didn’t ask, but I apologized for yesterday. She’s cool.”

  “Yep.”

  “Not sure what she’d be doing with me.”

  Brad laughed. “Maybe you’ve got something the suits lack. Seems like she thinks so.”

  They pulled up and unloaded the bikes. Jason pointed to the tallest hill and said, “Let’s stop at the summit.”

  “Sure. You know, wanting to stand up there means you’re in a philosophical mood.”

  “Yeah, I’m gonna philosophize. Someone will build Greek ruins around us by the time I’m done.”

  Brad chuckled. “They’re gonna build ’em pre-ruined?”

  Jason mounted his bike and rode off while Brad followed. Jason poured on the power, focusing intensely on the terrain ahead. Normally after work he’d take it easy. Despite being tired he pushed his skill, drifting around corners and struggling to keep control after going airborne a couple of times.

  Not that Brad would mind.

  For five minutes the rush of wind and the power in his grip blew away the infernal concerns that he’d been unable to shake. He looked back at his best friend with a wide grin, then took in the glory of the darkening landscape as he rode higher.

  Then they stood on the hill and the weight returned.

  Jason propped his bike on its side stand, catching a whiff of hot electronics and fresh grease. Brad let out a whoop as he hung his helmet on the handlebar of his own bike. “You were cookin’ back there.”

  “Wanted to tell you something out of range of the SUV’s microphone. Something weird.”

  Jason related the story of meeting Zarather. From his pocket he pulled out the package Zarather had left and opened it.

  Brad stood with his mouth agape and stared at the contents for a moment.

  “You really think this is his house key?” he asked.

  “Who knows. Maybe my father and Zarather planned a little hazing for me and he thinks it’s time. Seems out of character. I don’t know.”

  “If he actually planned it with your father it’s best to go through with it. There’s only one way to find out.”

  “Or maybe Zarather’s actually a psycho and he has plans for me.”

  Brad laughed. “You’re good at finding excuses, man. Let’s do it. If he’s hazing you it’ll be a good laugh and we’ll develop good contacts higher up. Plus I’d like to tour Zarather’s place. Wouldn’t you? Sounds awesome.”

  “You’ll develop contacts. I already have one.”

  “Yeah, but this is camaraderie. Much better than ‘My daddy knew the company’s daddy.’”

  Jason jabbed him in the ribs. “Don’t joke about my father. And today you said that AI experts have died. Now Zarather’s acting weird. Coincidence? He said he wasn’t returning to his office, but did he mean today or . . . ever?”

  Brad wrung his hands and grimaced at the dark red of the setting sun. “With all of the bullshit going on, maybe he has bailed the fuck out of here. I want to know. Don’t you?”

  Jason looked down at the items in his hand. “I should probably drop off the package with his assistant tomorrow and forget about it.”

  But he didn’t believe that even while he said it. He found the mansion irresistible, both as an escape from ordinary events and because he wanted to know the truth. The censorship and surveillance had been fueling a tightening fist of rage within him. While Zarather had never worked on the CMC core, he would understand the signs of its going seriously wrong, and he had contacts who could provide inside information.

  “That would be the lamest thing you’ve done in the last seven years,” Brad said. “And on top of everything else, I heard something new from my uncle after work. It’s about Roger Wilberforce.”

  “Funny how he’s come up twice today,” Jason said. Wilberforce had run the most effective campaign against the CMC leading up to the vote. He’d declared that all countries suffering internal instability had arrived there through lies and corruption, from the top all the way down to the common people, and only personal responsibility would put an end to it. The idea had proved strangely popular, but not popular enough.

  “Yeah,” Brad replied. “The official story is that he’s in quiet retirement. And indeed he was, but now he’s missing. Digging into the mystery of his disappearance is a good way to disappear too.”

  Jason furrowed his brow and looked into the distance at the darkening landscape. Perfectly spaced cars droned on along the highway. It all seemed so normal and ordered.

  He turned back to Brad. “Sometimes I imagine a guy or three cooking up this stuff and laughing at how far it circulates.”

  “No,” Brad said. “My uncle is a no-bullshit guy. If he says this is from people who know, it’s solid. He never talked rumors or conspiracies before shit got weird.”

  “And if government people are waiting for us there? Zarather could be into some dodgy financial crap and we’ll be accessories.”

  Jason looked down, kicked a stone, and watched it skip down the slope. Brad picked one up and hurled it at nothing in particular. They waited until it made one final bounce near the bottom and slammed into a small boulder.

  Brad said, “How will you feel if you return these things to Zarather and wonder what might have been? Think of it—impress the CEO, get a promotion, make friends with the executives. A brilliant career. Emily.”

  Jason tossed the key into his left hand and examined it. “You know, the problem with Emily is she doesn’t believe that the censorship and micromanagement are compromises. She believes that it’s all perfectly virtuous and won’t hear a word against it. Social harmony is her answer to everything. That’s why I lost it.”

  “All the more reason to dig into this.”

  “Zarather did give me his house key and tell me to use it. So . . .”

  “We’ll never have another chance to look over the place.” Brad’s eyes took on a mischievous gleam. “And he implied that there’s nobody there, so we get a relaxing self-directed tour.”

  “The note confirms what he said—the laptop is in a secret compartment.” Jason handed the scrap of paper to Brad. “We’re supposed to take it all the way to Colorado to an address stashed with it. Plus there’s a hidden escape door with a freaky unlocking method.”

  “Great, we can see what’s on it and check out the door. Decide on Colorado later.”

  Jason marched to his bike. “Let’s go late tonight. Around eleven.”

  “Yeah!” Brad replied.

  Both were mounted and ready to go when Brad said, “We need to take precautions. What my uncle said was serious.”

  “No cell phones,” Jason
replied, “and I don’t want my car reporting to the system that it parked near that place.”

  Brad flashed back a devilish grin. “No worries, I have contacts.”

  Jason smiled back. “Of course you do.”

  “I’ll find out how to rig it so we can open the doors without detection and the seats keep reporting weight on them.”

  “Now you’re talking,” Jason said.

  The two bikes accelerated down the slope. Jason shouted, “You’re hoping for a promotion too!”

  Brad grinned back.

  Five

  JASON’S CAR APPROACHED the turn into Zarather’s street. Jason and Brad removed their seat belts, opened the car doors, and stood up into the breeze. As the car slowed and rounded the bend, Jason gripped the door frame in two places and braced himself against the force.

  When the car straightened and the acceleration kicked in again, he lowered his feet onto the road, began running, and let go. Brad did the same. Just in time, Jason swiped his hand at the door to slam it shut.

  The car drove on empty, with Brad’s door half-latched and sticking out an inch from the frame.

  “Damn it,” Jason said.

  “I missed,” Brad replied. “Acceleration shut it.”

  “It’s all right if nobody notices it on the way to my place.”

  “Yeah,” Brad said, “but it’s not supposed to drive at all with the door half shut. If the cops see it they’ll know it’s been cracked.”

  “Shit,” Jason said. He wracked his brain to remember the camera locations. “Camera at the intersection with the recharge station. Half-Bit will flag it. No, wait . . .”

  He clutched his head between his hands for a few moments. “Camera faces the driver’s side from across the road, so it can’t see your door. We just need some luck. Still want to do this?”

  “Screw them, he gave you the key. Let’s visit.”

  The men ran along the grass sidewalk, beside a wooden fence at first, then past the high white stone wall of Zarather’s estate. When they reached the twin pillars of the main entrance, Jason stopped in front of a pedestrian door recessed into the wall beside the vehicle gate. He punched the code into a keypad to unlock it. When it clicked, he glanced at Brad, who beamed back enthusiastically.

  Jason turned the knob and went through with Brad right behind him.

  The mansion was about a hundred yards from the road. The long driveway, illuminated by short lampposts on either side, curved around a garden, which formed a dark patch in the moonlight. Further away, the unlit top floor of the mansion loomed above it.

  Brad took off at a sprint. Jason tailed him until his friend slowed near the garden. They stayed near the foliage as they rounded the corner and stopped.

  The entire house was dark. It was a great three-story pile, all glass across the front and with a grand entranceway bulging out in the middle. Nothing moved. The only sound was a gentle breeze rustling through the garden.

  “What do you think?” Jason said.

  “I see nothing to be worried about,” Brad said.

  “Let’s wait here a minute and scope it out,” Jason replied.

  “Okay,” Brad said.

  Something small rustled in the greenery behind them. Jason ignored it as he scanned the massive windows of the house, trying to spot any sign of human presence—the glow of a phone, a cigarette, a shape through a moonlit window.

  “Nothing. We do this or go,” Jason said.

  “Like I said, he did give you the key, so . . .”

  “May as well use it,” Jason said.

  Brad started toward the house and Jason walked beside him. As they neared the heavy white front door, they both advanced on it hesitantly. Jason half-expected people to come bursting through, or to pounce on him when he set foot inside.

  The house remained silent as he arrived on the doorstep. His gut and mind demanded that he pocket the key and turn back, but instead he watched his arm hold it out and scan it. The door unlocked. Slowly, Brad turned the knob and swung the door inward. Faced with an opening into blackness, they hesitated.

  Silence.

  Treading lightly, they walked inside. Brad shut the door almost noiselessly. Somewhere a clock ticked. The sound echoed off the floor and walls. The air felt fresh, with a faint smell of chamomile.

  Jason pulled out an adjustable flashlight set so dim that it hardly exceeded the moonlight outside. He swept the beam across in front of him. Brad added his own light to the search. Nothing seemed out of place. Polished tile floor, so perfect that Jason considered removing his shoes. Instead he wiped them on the mat.

  A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. Shiny black-and-gold banisters lined a white staircase, wide at the bottom and sweeping in an elegant curve up to a landing. Corridors led away from there in both directions.

  “Let’s go up,” Brad said. They treaded softly up the stairs.

  On the landing, Jason held up the remote. “Quiet for a sec. I’ll press this and see if we hear something open.”

  He squeezed the button. A whir and click came from below. One of the foyer tiles had risen.

  “You’re kidding,” Jason said. “Right inside the front door?”

  “If you’re surprised, then anyone searching for it would be too,” Brad said.

  They descended the stairs and inspected the hatch in the cool white glow of their flashlights. The tile sat atop a metal frame. The laptop computer fit neatly inside. Jason removed it and pressed the tile down until it clicked.

  “This is some spy shit,” Brad said.

  “I’m waiting for a bunch of company assholes to turn the lights on and laugh hysterically,” Jason said as he opened the computer. An address written on notepaper lay on the keyboard.

  Brad boomed out his voice at full volume, which seemed to fill the entire mansion and made Jason wince from the shock to his ear. “Hey, assholes,” Brad shouted, “we’ve got it.”

  “Damn it, man,” Jason said quietly through bared teeth. “What if there’s someone sleeping here?”

  “Who gives a shit?” Brad said. He jabbed a finger at Jason’s pocket. “Key. Anyway, there’s no one here or he’d have told us to knock.”

  “I’d say you’ve proved it now anyway,” Jason said. Sometimes he wished Brad would act twenty-three instead of fifteen. He shut the computer.

  Brad gestured at it. “So that’s it, job done. We’ve been here, what . . . three minutes?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Let’s take a look around. Not in the bedrooms or anything. Just a tour.”

  They climbed the stairs again. Jason carried the laptop under his arm. They took the right corridor, and turned right again into the study.

  “Lights,” Brad said to the room.

  “No!” Jason said. “It’ll show through the blinds.”

  The room remained dark.

  “Didn’t work anyway,” Brad said.

  “Zarather’s the type who wants to turn on his own damn light,” Jason said. Using his flashlight he found the switch on the wall. “I guess it’ll be okay. We’re far from the road.”

  He flicked the light on. A heavy oak desk dominated the room. A high-backed leather chair sat behind it perfectly aligned in the middle and facing forward. Neatly shelved books occupied the entire wall space. There were large collections on computing, artificial intelligence, business, and philosophy, and many classics. They smelled of fine paper and quality hardcover bindings.

  Jason examined a row of books. “He has quite a collection on totalitarianism. The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich, The Gulag Archipelago.”

  Brad looked up from admiring the desk. “Half-Bit had better send someone to burn those.”

  “Or read them as instruction manuals.”

  “I doubt Half-Bit would do that, but Crimson Unity might.”

  Jason removed a copy of The Road to Serfdom and inspected it. “Crimson Unity are supposed to be anarchists,” he said.

  “Yeah, but how do you make sure everyon
e embraces collective anarchy or whatever their manifesto says?”

  “I don’t know. Some of the stuff they do is hilarious. When they took out the local CMC surveillance subsystem it was like a holiday. No eyes on us for a day and a half.”

  “Not so great when they blow the electricity,” Brad replied.

  Jason replaced the book and crossed the room toward the vertical blinds covering the front window.

  Brad fell enthusiastically into the leather chair, leaned back with his fists in the air, and said, “Top of the hierarchy, bitches!”

  “Nah, you’re gettin’ demoted to coffee boy. Heard it through the grapevine.”

  “Perfect. Starting my own company next week! You’ll be on the hiring blacklist.”

  Jason contemplated his friend sitting in the chair like he owned the place. Being selected to work on cutting-edge AI developments at Zarather had proved Brad’s brilliance. He would probably rise high, there or somewhere else.

  The polished oak desk reflected the walls and ceiling like a mirror. Brad swept his hand across it. “It’s really about working with great people and getting awesome stuff done, but I’d love to end up with a desk like this.”

  “I figure he’s earned it.”

  Jason turned to the window. A crack in the blinds afforded a view of the driveway curving around the garden. The entrance was lost to sight beyond the trees. The car should have been halfway home at least. Or the subject of a police investigation.

  Brad slapped a hand on the wood. “Jason, you incompetent buffoon, you’re fired.”

  Without turning from the window, Jason replied, “Ha, you’ll go bust in six months without me.”

  Brad pounded his fists on the table. “Bring me wine.”

  “You just fired me. Get it yourself.”

  “You’re rehired. Welcome to the company. Wine!”

  A pair of headlights came along the road. They were followed by another. To see one car was no surprise. But two identical gray SUVs . . .

  “My secretary isn’t hot enough,” Brad said. “Fire her and get me another!”