Saving 1641

by Robert Jay Dilger

  “Okay,” Conor replied. “Just so long as you don’t get the wrong idea. I think that you’re great, but there is someone else.”

  “I like that,” Jonnelle answered. “That you think that I am great that is. I feel the same about you. I think that I like your eyes the best of all. A girl can get lost in those eyes. I’m not so sure about this mind reading thing though. A girl needs her privacy.”

  Jonnelle let go of his hand just long enough to grab an energy bar from her backpack. She bit through its edible cover and offered it to Conor.

  “Hungry?” she asked.

  Conor blushed with embarrassment.

  “It’s just an energy bar,” she continued. “It’s not like I asked you for a contract.”

  “Sorry,” Conor answered. “It’s something that Kristi told me once. She told me to watch out for girls offering me a bite of their energy bars. Seems that there is a custom on her home planet. It’s considered an invitation to, well, get together if you know what I mean.”

  “Conor Sinclair!” Jonnelle answered, raising an eyebrow. “You devil you.”

  “Not that I thought …” Conor stammered.

  “Yes you did,” Jonnelle replied. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have blushed. I am flattered. I guess that this means that you are interested after all.”

  “There is someone else,” Conor answered.

  “Yes, you said that,” Jonnelle replied. “But just remember that you have an open invitation should you ever change your mind.”

  As they continued walking, Jonnelle reached out and took Conor’s hand in hers once again. Conor thought about pulling his hand away, but decided against it.

  “Cat got your tongue?” she asked.

  “What?” he asked, not recognizing the phrase.

  “It’s an old saying,” she answered. “It’s what people say to someone when that someone can’t think of the proper thing to say. I have no idea where that saying came from, but people I know use it all of the time. You haven’t heard that before?”

  “Never,” Conor answered. “It’s the first time.”

  “There is a first time for everything,” she answered, squeezing his hand.

  They continued walking down the pipe, hand-in-hand, until they reached the ladder leading up to the communication center. Conor went up first, with Jonnelle following close behind. As expected, the emergency access pipe’s lid was locked from the inside. Conor focused on the lock and it popped open. Lifting the lid, he found himself right where the blueprint said he would be, in the building’s recreation room. Fortunately for them, the only people present were on the far side of the room and they were facing the other direction. No one noticed as they crawled out of the access pipe and closed the lid behind them.

  “Okay,” Conor stated using telepathy. “Here we go. No more talking out loud. Try to look natural, like we have been here 100 times before. Don’t make eye contact. Just head straight for the door. And remember to have the ID card that Anne got for you out, where everyone can see it. We don’t want to look like we are hiding something.”

  Jonnelle pulled her ID card’s lanyard out from under her blouse, letting her ID card fall to near her waist, in plain sight. No one paid them any attention as they left the recreation room and headed for the turbolifts.

  “So far so good,” Jonnelle thought as they entered a turbolift and pressed the button for the 34th floor.

  “You okay?” Conor asked. “I know that you don’t like turbolifts.”

  “I will be fine,” she answered. “Just so long as we keep moving.”

  “We are being recorded,” Conor stated, smiling at the lift’s security camera. “I will take care of this.”

  The camera’s lens went dark.

  “Did they record us?” Jonnelle asked.

  “For a short time,” Conor answered. “But I took care of that too.”

  “You’re a real handy guy to have around,” Jonnelle stated, patting his arm. “Real handy.”

  “I try,” Conor answered, smiling.

  They stepped out of the turbolift at the 34th floor. A security robot greeted them with an open, upraised hand.

  “Please present your security passes,” its tinny voice stated.

  Conor and Jonnelle handed the robot their ID cards. Scanning the cards, the robot’s eyes glowed brightly for just a moment before returning to a more natural-looking brown hue.

  “You may proceed,” the robot announced.

  “Thank you,” Conor stated out loud as they walked past, noticing that the robot was armed.

  “Did you see that?” Jonnelle asked as they continued down the hall. “That robot was armed. Since when is it legal for robots to carry weapons in the city?”

  “The rules are changing now that Brandix is in charge,” Conor answered as he approached a doorway marked “Central Computer System, Authorized Personnel Only, Violators Will Be Prosecuted to the Full Extent of the Law.”

  “Sometimes I wonder if we would have been better off if Casseday and Kourdar had won the war,” Jonnelle stated.

  “Who said that the war is over?” Conor answered as he held his ID card up against the entrance pad. “They still haven’t found either one of them.”

  “They’re done,” Jonnelle replied. “The videopapers have portrayed them as villains. There is no coming back from that. At least not on Rylyn. Maybe off-world someplace, but not here.”

  “You seem pretty certain about that,” Conor continued as his ID card was accepted.

  “Everyone thinks that the Court holds all the power,” she answered, holding her ID card up to the entrance pad. “But the real powerhouses are the videopaper editors. They determine who the heroes and villains are. Mark my words. If you control the videopapers you control Rylyn, and if you control Rylyn you control the universe.”

  “What about the people?” Conor asked. “There are elections and the people decide who is in power.”

  “To a certain extent,” Jonnelle answered as the door opened. “But most people don’t care who is in charge as long as their taxes are not raised and the hovercraft traffic is kept within reason. For those that do care and want to do the right thing, they get their information from the videopapers and the videopapers don’t always tell the whole story. The editors are interested in making a profit, so they focus undue attention on celebrity sex scandals, that sort of thing. When they cover the real news, they favor those in power because they are the ones who set the business tax rate and control who gets a broadcasting license. The whole system is kind of a sham, designed to empower and enrich the few at the expense of the many.”

  “You seem to have all the answers,” Conor stated, scanning the nearly deserted room with all of his senses, looking for listening and recording devices. “But there is no way that I can ever be that cynical. Michael is a Justice and he doesn’t seem to me to be a villain.”

  “You just made my case,” Jonnelle replied, heading for the nearest computer terminal. “I am surprised that he made it to the top. But look at what has happened to him since the election. The system is destroying him.”

  “It’s not over yet,” Conor answered as he began disabling the room’s listening and recording devices and erasing their data banks.

  “Not yet,” Jonnelle stated, plugging Michael’s computer snooper into the computer terminal. “Not if I have anything to do with it.”

  The snooper went to work, breaking through the Court’s perimeter firewalls with ease before reaching the main computer array. Recognizing the snooper from the earlier intrusion, the computer array went into full defensive mode, erecting multiple, redundant firewalls around the government’s most sensitive files and the planet’s defense grid. It started pulling power from the city’s power grid, and repeated its earlier threat to self-destruct. This time, it threatened to blow up the building if the snooper did not retreat. It also issued an emergency intruder alert, putting the entire building into lockdown mode. Not realizing the danger, Jonnelle waited impatiently
as the snooper flashed thousands of word, symbol, and number combinations on the computer screen. Several symbols were pulled out and placed on the right side of the screen. Conor had never seen anything like them before.

  “Do you recognize any of these?” Conor asked, keeping one eye on the computer screen and the other on a technician repairing a computer on the far side of the room. The technician’s wrist transponder was beeping.

  “Reptilian sign language,” Jonnelle answered. “That one over there, on top, is the symbol for war and the one directly below it is the symbol for death. I don’t recognize the others.”

  The snooper vibrated, indicating that it had found and secured the passcodes they were seeking. Jonnelle hit the enter key. A very long list of files filled the computer screen. Across the room, the technician began to read the message on his wrist transponder.

  “Where do you suggest we start?” she asked. “Administration or finance?”

  “Finance,” Conor answered, keeping an eye on the technician. “None of this will work unless we make the financial transfers.”

  “Okay,” Jonnelle answered, pressing the finance icon. “Time for me to do my magic.”

  There were more than two trillion active personal financial accounts on record, with separate lists for each planet in the Consortium. Her job was to find the 103 accounts on her list. Knowing that all of the accounts were housed on Rylyn made the task somewhat easier. Hitting Rylyn’s icon, the list was narrowed to 89 billion active personal financial accounts. The accounts were alphabetized by the owner’s last name. Those files were searchable using various additional identifiers, such as the owner’s first and middle names, date and place of birth, and, of course, by their assigned account number. Fortunately, Anne Hopkins had provided the account numbers for everyone on the list. She got them from the contracts they had signed when they were hired to rescue Justice Brandix. Having those account numbers was critical. Government protocol required Jonnelle to start the search by sorting the files using first, middle, and last names. That generated 709 accounts, including accounts for four people named Emma Marion Stuart, six named Ian Kevin Johnson, three named Brandon Eric Christopher, eight named Jason Walter Jennings, three named Jager Dakota Decelles, and so forth. Her next pass, using the provided account numbers, generated the needed files. The next step was finding the account numbers for the beneficiaries of the 37 people on the list who were killed during the battle. The accounts of the deceased were closed, but she was able to retrieve the needed information from the archives.

  “It’s amazing what a few zeros can do for a girl’s future,” Jonnelle thought as she opened up her own account and added three zeroes to her credit balance, transforming her into an instant multi-millionaire.

  “Hey you two,” the technician called out as he approached. “Didn’t you get the alert? Everyone is supposed to stop what they are doing immediately and head downstairs. You need to log off and come with me.”

  Conor levitated the man off of the floor and squeezed his throat, cutting off his air supply. Gasping for breath, the man blacked out and went limp. Jonnelle stared at Conor in disbelief.

  “You didn’t kill him, did you?” Jonnelle asked in a near panic. “He wasn’t armed.”

  “He will be fine,” Conor assured her. “But we had better hurry up. Security will sweep the building. We probably only have a few more minutes before they arrive.”

  Jonnelle quickly added 10 million credits to Anne Hopkins’ account, two million credits to the accounts of each member of Anne’s family, and one million credits to everyone else who fought alongside Anne during the battle for Emory Boulevard, including the beneficiaries of those who were killed. The only exceptions were for those who fought, but were known to have fled during the battle. They got the 50,000 credits that they were promised when they signed their contracts.

  “Are you sure that you don’t want me to add some credits to your account?” Jonnelle asked Conor as she finished. “It would be real easy to add a few zeros to your account balance. And what about Michael, Kristi, and Alex? Are you sure that they don’t want any credits added to their accounts? This could be an once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

  “That’s not why we are here,” Conor stated. “I am sure that if Michael were awake that he would agree. This is not about getting rich. We have enough credits to get by. Anne and her family deserve those credits. They earned it. We are simply setting the record straight.”

  “Okay,” Jonnelle answered. “Just checking. This kind of an opportunity doesn’t come along every day you know.”

  Jonnelle went to work constructing several firewalls to ensure that the credits could not be deleted or withdrawn without the owner’s knowledge and permission.

  “I still don’t understand why your credit account had such a brief transaction history,” she stated as she carefully backed out of the financial accounting system, erasing any possible trace of her presence.

  “Everyone gets a credit account when they are born,” she continued. “Everyone in the Consortium gets one. Your account had one deposit, made just a few weeks ago, and one withdrawal. It’s like you didn’t exist a month ago, and then suddenly you did. There is only one logical explanation for that.”

  Jonnelle turned toward Conor and stared intently into his eyes. Conor leaned back at this sudden and unexpected assault on his personal space.

  “You look human,” Jonnelle continued. “But the only explanation for your lack of a credit history is that you didn’t exist a month ago, meaning that you have to be some kind of a new robot or clone.”

  “I’m as human as you are,” Conor responded angrily, sensitive to the accusation given his origin.

  “Then how come you can read minds and project thoughts?” Jonnelle continued. “That’s not normal.”

  “I’m as human as you are,” Conor repeated, growing angrier by the second.

  “A robot!” Jonnelle exclaimed. “I should have known. You’re some kind of new, technological breakthrough. The workmanship is amazing. You look very human. No one could tell the difference. Very impressive work. And to think that I was falling for you.”

  “I am not a robot!” Conor repeated.

  “Hey, I don’t care,” Jonnelle answered. “There is no need to get upset. I’m not prejudiced. Personally, I would never hang out with a robot. But if someone is into that kind of thing who am I to judge?”

  “I am not a robot!” Conor repeated.

  “I would have never guessed,” she continued. “They did a great job, especially with the eyes. They are gorgeous. Very nicely done. My compliments to the engineers who designed them.”

  “Please stop,” Conor stated, his frustration growing. “We still have work to do. Let’s get to the administration files.”

  Jonnelle focused on the computer screen. She started with Alex’s file, opened it, and whistled.

  “Look at all of the infractions!” she exclaimed. “This guy has been busy.”

  “Just wipe the file,” Conor stated firmly. “No need for commentary.”

  Jonnelle hit the appropriate keys and watched as the computer deleted all of Alex’s serious infractions, one-by-one, leaving only the most recent entry, “Attempted Assassination of Justice Michael Armand LaRocque,” and two minor hovercraft violations. Jonnelle then searched and erased all of the serious infractions from the personal files of all the people on the list, including her own, leaving only minor hovercraft or partying violations to ensure that no one would suspect that the files had been cleaned.

  “Nice to get a second chance in life,” she thought, closing her own file. “Now for the hard part.”

  After several false starts, she successfully deposited a class M stealth virus, the most advanced computer virus in the hacking world. Known for mutating in unexpected ways, Class M stealth viruses often caused more damage than intended. But it was the only way to make certain that the deleted infraction files could never be accessed again. The virus was engineered to h
unt down and destroy any remnants of the deleted files lurking anywhere in the computer system.

  “That should do it,” Jonnelle announced as she backed out of the administrative accounts and logged off.

  Jonnelle sprayed a DNA cleanser on the computer’s keypad, just in case. They then walked calmly out the door and headed for the turbolifts. The security robot stationed there lifted its right arm and pointed a laser pistol at them.

  “Sorry for the inconvenience,” the robot announced. “There has been a security breach and the building is in lockdown mode. All security passes have been temporarily suspended. I have been instructed to conduct retinal identification scans on all personnel leaving this floor. Please step forward and be scanned.”

  The robot’s artificial eyes glowed brightly as it floated up into the air, shot across the hallway, and hit the wall hard. A portion of the robot’s left arm broke off, bounced off the wall, flew back across the hallway, struck Conor on the arm, and drew blood. The robot slumped to the carpeted floor, lubricant spilling out and staining the carpet dark brown. The light in the robot’s eyes faded to black. Shocked, Jonnelle backed away from Conor.

  “Don’t worry,” he reassured her. “We are on the same side.”

  Stepping into a turbolift, Conor pressed the down button and held the door open. Jonnelle hesitated and then stepped into the turbolift, but kept her distance. A few moments later, they arrived at the lobby. As the door opened, Conor repeated, “I am not a robot.”

  “I’m not sure what you are,” Jonnelle answered, still keeping her distance.

  Pointing to the blood on his shirt sleeve, Conor said out loud, “See this. Robots don’t bleed.”

  Conor headed for the front door. As they approached the security desk, Conor disabled the building’s listening and recording devices and erased the security system’s recordings for the past three hours. The guard at the desk informed them that all security cards had been temporarily suspended and that no one was allowed to leave the building.