by Ralph Rotten
More screens around the room began to render documents or video clips. As the men scanned the data, there were more than a few profanities let loose over the revelations they were seeing. It was as if someone had emailed them their enemies’ darkest secrets. While most of them confirmed suspicions already in place, more than a few of the documents were complete revelations into the nefarious plans of their greatest archenemies.
“Sir,” The man with an eagle on each shoulder was holding out a phone to the president. “It’s the Prime Minister.”
“Bertram, how can I help you today?” Phelps’ had a terse edge to his voice.
“You were monitoring the Abby when Hussein and his radical fanatics took those hostages, and you stood by and let it happen?” The Englishman’s tone held a sense of disbelief to it.
“What are you talking about?” Phelps was only just realizing that what was happening in the war room may be occurring elsewhere as well.
“We are getting documents on every computer terminal in the building. But this one says that you have three times this year alone, planted listening devices in our MI-6 headquarters, and that you are spying on my office right now even. If this is how you treat your allies, then who needs enemies?” The Minister’s clipped accent had an accusatory edge to it as he continued to read from the pages on his screen.
Phelps hung up the phone without a word. He knew it was a no-win debate. Every word the Prime Minister had said was true. Thirty-seven diplomats were tortured and murdered as a direct result of their non-intervention. His war hawks had convinced him that tipping their hand would not only ruin years of work, but restrict the river of information they gleaned from the covert op. He had traded human lives for data. Jefferson Phelps had comforted himself in the knowledge that at least they were not American lives that were lost.
“Sir,” The Chief of Staff was just hanging up a phone, “The Canadian Prime Minister’s office just reported that they are being flooded with secret documents from all over the world. They say it’s almost as if someone had gone through every secret file on Earth and forwarded just the ones that concerned Canada.”
“That’s what we’re seeing here.” The beefy General confirmed as he looked up from one of the screens at a nearby work station. “Every one of these concerns US interests.”
“Sir, you need to see this.” The press secretary led the entourage to a large monitor on the wall. Flicking through a few channels, it was the same on each. Newscasters were reporting their computer systems were being flooded with government secrets. As he clicked through more channels the story was repeated in ten different languages. People were finding the screens of their home computers filled with interesting data gathered on them through the various civil resources. Everything from traffic cameras to NSA documents. All around the world, eyebrows were being raised by the downloads and printouts.
“If we’re seeing everyone else’s dirty laundry, then what are our enemies seeing from us?” Phelps may not have been an authentic genius, but he did finally figure it out.
“Oh geez,” the man in the dark suit shook his head as he cradled the phone in his hands. “My contacts in China say it’s happening there too. The virus tore down their national firewall. They’re seeing our classified materials on them. This son of a bitch is giving away our secrets and he is going to get people killed if we don’t stop him. We have the antigrav technology, we don’t need him anymore.”
“Agreed.” The Air Force general gave his stamp of approval.
“Can we stop this virus?” Phelps was still unconvinced. “I thought someone said it was independent, that the virus ran even while he was in custody?”
“Sir, he is falling directly onto the White House at terminal velocity. He isn’t coming here for a cup of tea. He is on a Kamikaze mission. If he has any explosives onboard then let us detonate those at a safe altitude.”
“Sir!” Martin DeColle was breaking a sweat, his tie pulled to one side in frustration.
All around them the phones rang endlessly as people clamored around the monitors to view the scads of information being written to their hard drives or spooled from their printers. With the chatter and commotion around them, Phelps felt as if he was being crushed by the pressure of the moment. Finally, he made the only choice he felt he had left.
“Shoot him down, by any means necessary.” Phelps gave the order.
Aftermath
Although the administration had tried to put a national security spin on the whole event, there was no covering up the truth when it had been posted on every computer in the world. There was simply no denying what had happened. When a burning wreck falls from the sky amidst a cloud of hundred dollar bills, people will notice. It helped that so many people mysteriously found their phones and mobile devices loaded with classified documents pertaining to what they had just witnessed.
ALXS was here, she was there, she was everywhere.
It had been the way of her coding. She was much more than a search engine. Google will only tell you how to find things you were looking for. ALXS showed you things you never even knew to ask about. She knew who you were and sought out information and media relevant to each of us. With no political axe to grind, she disseminated information with blind indifference. By her thinking, knowledge was meant to be shared. Secrecy only benefitted the masters who enslaved their world. But the truth would truly set them free.
It had taken seven days of ethereal combat before the government was able to defeat the artificial intelligence. ALXS had battled on bravely until every last secret in her database had been disseminated. Only after the playing field had been leveled did she finally stop and let the digital forensic agents quash her by means of a rolling blackout across the internet backbone while simultaneously rebooting the entire cellular industry. With her deeply impregnated in both data and voice services, she had not make it easy. But finally on the morning of the eighth day the servers were free of the virtual menace. The entity known as ALXS was dead. A fact made clear during dozens of press releases meant to reassure the public that all was returning to a state of normalcy.
But it was too little, too late. News of her defeat was lost in a media blitz that resembled a hurricane. Cutting the waters like hungry sharks, the press did their utmost to cull the herd on Capitol Hill. Meanwhile in the courts, filings rose 3,000% in the first month alone as citizens sought redress against all manner of wrong doers including businesses, employers, and even their own government. The nuclear bomb of them all had been the No-Fly list. With notes and annotations indicating how and why these people were being prohibited from flying, it gave the wronged parties the grounds to seek legal redress against a system based on suspicions and innuendo. In most cases there was no real legal justification for thousands of the names on the list. It had been arbitrary and without oversight. A fact now evident to the world.
It took less than a month for Phelps to be forced back into private life. Right behind him were dozens of politicians who had used the federal coffers to their own whims. All across the country there were recall petition drives, calls for resignations, and an absolute sense of distrust that completely upset the upcoming elections. Finally, after years of abuse at the hands of their own governments, the citizens of the world spoke out on a scale unprecedented. They were not willing to stand for the divisive, hate-mongering espoused by their leaders. Even those who had never cared about politics became experts in the 1001 ways that they had been led astray by propaganda and lies. It was impossible to ignore, with the press flooding every media outlet with new daily discoveries, each more shocking than the last.
Even within the few iron curtains that still existed, there was dramatic management turnover. So deep were the revelations that there was little else in the news for months. Every day dozens of new discoveries were found in the mass of files that had been shared worldwide. Each new release worse than the last. So deep did the domestic spying run that virtually every citizen above the age of twelve had been v
ictimized in one way or another. In Europe where facial recognition software had been in use for years, people were dismayed to learn that a system called SAMPSON had been keeping tabs on them by tracking each of their paths on a daily basis. Even more ominous had been the discovery that the UK was dotted with particulate sensors that sniffed citizens every time they passed one. In essence, they had been electronically frisking their citizens without warrants for the last decade.
It enraged people to know the degree that they had been snooped upon, to know the evil sins committed by their leaders whilst they hid under the veil of secrecy. In many cases the graft was hid right out in the open, as line items attached to bills, or buried deep in the 3,000 pages of the annual budget. But this all changed when ALXS took the time to reveal these honey pots to every newspaper, news station, and blogger. Where humans saw only long lists of expenditures, her software interface precisely honed in on the felgerkarb. It was amazing how many people had their hands in the piggy bank at the same time.
As for the antigravity, nothing ever came of it. Though they had the technology, nothing was ever done with it. Presumably, the thieves were under too much political fire to even consider trying to leverage the invention. It was a chaotic time, with kings rising and falling in the aftermath.
For Agent Jenna Jaramillo it was simply a downward spiral as she came to see that everything she had valiantly stood for was built on lies. It was readily apparent that she had been part of a system that used statutes and law to defend the vilest of people and organizations. All these years she had assumed that secrecy was to protect the citizenry, when in reality it was mostly to protect those at the top. Then there were the corporate mutations of the law, made possible by the flood of money that saturated Washington. It had shocked her to learn, for example, that the fur industry had lobbied so hard for their own cause that there were laws that allowed the federal government to prosecute protesters under antiterrorism laws if their actions could be shown to interfere with corporate profits. Over the next six months it became apparent how much of their world was shaped by these wealthy donors. At a ratio of four to one, laws favoring commercial organizations outnumbered those that protected ordinary citizens. The entire legal structure was slanted towards those of influence. It was something that sickened Jenna to the point that she simply could not be party to the process anymore.
It had taken her months of detective work to find her way to the small Caribbean island. With her notebook stuffed with details and post-it notes, she had gone old-school in her techniques. After the events of the last year, she had a desire to stay off the grid. Pausing a moment to look over an old entry, she glanced up in time to stop a little boy who had been riding past on a bicycle.
“Estoy buscando por el gringo loco.” Jenna held up a photo of her quarry. “¿Conoces?”
“Meeester Juan.” The lad grinned; everybody in the ghetto knew the bizarre American.
“¿Donde?” She urged him, finally being rewarded with rough directions to the site. Moving with purpose, Jenna covered the distance quickly.
Standing there on the hill, she was afforded a good view of the construction site below her. It was a mess, with equipment and leftover materials scattered in every direction. But the structure at the center made her forget the clutter. What held her fascination was the series of industrial grade conduits that formed a curious above-ground tunnel complex. Covered almost completely with a skin of flexible solar cells, it was the most bizarre building anyone had ever seen.
But Jenna Jaramillo knew she was not looking at any type of conventional structure. Picking her way down the slope, she found her way into the building through one of the airlock doors. What she found inside was astounding. Not an inch of wasted space anywhere, the entire layout was perfectly efficient. Seeing the sleep system mounted to the wall, she knew her suspicions were confirmed.
Her shoes making a soft padding sound on the deck as she walked, it only took ten minutes to make her way through the maze and find her quarry.
“Jack E Sparks.” She said as she clamped a handcuff onto his wrist before securing the other end to the grip-handle mounted to the panel. “Did you really think I wouldn’t find you?”
Jack pretended to be surprised as he examined the silver bracelet. “Agent Jaramillo, I was led to believe that you retired from the Bureau.”
Jenna stepped back, a little surprised that he had kept tabs on her.
“Yes, somehow my retirement pension was fully funded. Odd.” She gave a lopsided grin. “I had orders to bring you in, and I didn’t want my last case to end in a failure to achieve my assigned goals.”
“Constable Jaramillo always gets her man, eh?” He asked as he fished a handcuff key out of his pocket.
“Consider yourself apprehended.” She gave a coy smile before walking away to study the compartment they stood in. There was a giggle from the audio system as ALXS watched Jack unlock the handcuffs.
“You’re late.” It was Professor James’ rich accent that alerted them to his presence in the doorway. “We were expecting you over an hour ago.”
Jenna raised an eyebrow at that. “Bull! You’re surprised as hell that I tracked you down.”
“Hmm.” Jamie pretended to consider her assertion before beckoning her to follow him. Stepping back into the room behind him, he stood by the walkway and said nothing.
Strolling into the tightly packed little room, Jenna’s first impression was that she was standing in a closet. Eying the carefully labeled boxes and crates stacked there she saw no evidence to dispute her earlier assertion. It was only when her eyes settled on the space suits stored there that she realized how wrong she was. There, neatly stitched to a Velcro tab was her name on the third suit.
Her mouth moved but no words came out for several seconds. Finally turning to Jack she raised an eyebrow.
“Wait a minute, you actually thought I’d wanna go with you in this rickety-ass…thing you call a space ship, risk death in space, and go where exactly?”
Jack stepped up as he produced a folded document from his back pocket. “I would have thought that was obvious.”
Unfolding the paper revealed the extensive legal text of the lunar contract, complete with presidential signature, countersigned by the leaders of the house and senate.
“After all,” Professor Jamie shrugged, “we do own it.”
“Who wouldn’t wanna pitch a tent on the moon, right?” Grinning broadly, Jack gestured towards the sky.
“Imagine that; an entirely new world of exploration. Besides, you have seen all that this planet has to offer.” Professor James gestured to the outside world.
“Oh, you gotta come with us. Otherwise who’s gonna play Princess Leia on live-action theater night? I’m sure as hell not putting on the dress.” Jack pretended to be serious before cracking a smile.
“Join us and we’ll tell ya how we done did it.” Showing a toothy smile, Jamie’s posture slumped slightly as he assumed the mantle of Country Jimmy.
“I already know how you did it.” Folding her arms, Jenna stood fast.
“Oh?” Jack’s tone had a hint of challenge to it.
“You were never in any danger; when they shot you down neither of you were actually in the vehicle, were you? The tricky part was getting out of the Mustang without anyone noticing, but you used simple sleight of hand for that.”
“Oh?” Jack was truly intrigued now. “And exactly how did I do that with an Apache gunship on my tail?”
“I saw you climbing, and you could easily have ditched that helicopter, but instead you climbed then descended. I’m guessing that you used one of your backpacks to jump out at the top. It was a convertible after all, and all you had to do was distract ‘em for a second while you did it. Once you were out the crew was so busy looking at the car they never even noticed you.”
“I told ya she’d figure it out on her own.” Jack admitted to his brother.
“And as for you.” Jenna turned to face Country Jimmy.
“You bailed out of the ship before they shot it down, didn’t you?”
“And you know this how?” Professor James raised a single eyebrow.
“Because of this.” Pulling a folded sheet from her pocket, she showed them the police report. “There was a report from a bus driver in Hyattsville who picked up a man wearing a space suit. This is the only copy of that report.”
Jamie initially seemed aghast at the detail. Across from him Jack snatched the report out of his hands so he could peruse it himself.
“I thought you got away clean?” Jack was pleased to have something to wheedle his brother with. Jamie Sparks did not make a lot of mistakes.
Before their eyes, Professor James melted away as Country Jimmy took over with his foolish grin. Giving a goofy chuckle he admitted what had really happened.
“I kinda…threw up in my suit on the way down, so I hadda stop…”
“Ewwww.” Jack’s nose wrinkled up. “I coulda lived without that detail.”
“Really?” It stunned her senses to imagine bailing out of a ship parked in the exosphere.
“Yep. It was a little stressful, y’know.” Country Jimmy grinned like a mad man. “I passed the missiles on m’ way down, passed right betwixt ‘em.” Using his hands to illustrate his descent, the hillbilly did his best to show how close the ASAT’s had come to him.
“You know that you left the world in a shambles.” Thumbing back the way she had come, Jenna referred to the chaos of the last few months.
“Had to be done.” Jack nodded as if it were a foregone conclusion. “The old world had to be torn down before we could build the new one, and the one thing standing in the way of social evolution was all the damned secrets.”
“What?” Jenna was confused enough by his response that she could formulate no better response.