by Terry Schott
“Shh.” Gavin held a hand up and shook his head. “That has to wait ‘til we get to your office.”
“I wasn’t going to get into details.”
“Good.”
They made small talk while they waited, then ordered their drinks and walked to the office next door.
“So?” Gavin sipped his tea.
Aldous nodded. “You were right. The story is awesome.”
“In what way?”
“Every way. I couldn’t put it down. I see what you meant about it being dangerous. When I was done reading it, I felt compelled to . . .” He shook his head.
“Revolt?”
Aldous pursed his lips and nodded. Neither spoke for the space of a few heartbeats.
Gavin set his tea cup on the desk. “Are you going to publish it?”
Aldous chewed his lip and frowned. “It will be a best-seller.”
“We both agree on that.”
“Is it dangerous for us if we do publish it?”
Gavin shrugged. “Fifty years ago, it might have been. In today’s world . . .”
“You don’t think it has the power to stir blood?”
“It has the power, but I doubt the ability of any single person or group of people to act out. It motivates, but a person motivated to change the world in this day and age will do little more than compose a strongly worded message, so long as it is not longer than one hundred and forty characters.”
Aldous laughed. “And the passionate message will disappear before anyone can read it.”
“Buried under a sea of social media.” Gavin grabbed his cup and took another drink. “We live in a world where hundreds of millions are taught to read and have access to unlimited books, yet only a few ever bother to read a magazine article let alone an entire book.”
“Enough read to keep us in business.”
“Absolutely, but to do more than that?” Gavin shrugged. “My gut tells me that you would be safe if you decided to publish it.”
Aldous reached into his desk drawer and withdrew the manuscript. He dropped it onto the desk and stared at it. “The author didn’t identify him or herself. We don’t know who wrote it.”
“I thought the writing style might allow me to make at least a couple of guesses, but I suspect that the translations filtered out writing style to a great extent. It’s more than technical—there’s a flair and style to it—but I can’t guess who the author is. You?”
“No.”
“Do we publish it without making a deal with the author?”
“That would be unconventional.”
Gavin tapped the edge of his tea cup with an index finger. “But not unheard of.”
Aldous nodded, then snapped his fingers. “We could use this to help build hype for the book.”
“In what way?”
Aldous smiled. “Tell me what you think of this plan.”
***
Two weeks later, Curtis sat in a pub sipping beer and eating pretzels. The news was playing on the television behind the bar.
“In book news, Brave World Publishing is searching for a mystery author. They received a submission which they want to publish, but the author did not identify him or herself when they submitted the book. They are asking the author to step forward so that they might offer them a publishing contract. In today’s publishing market, the standard advance for a new author is between five to twenty thousand dollars. Brave World is so eager to find the person responsible for writing this book, titled Sticks and Stones—”
Curtis’s breath caught in his throat.
“A representative for Brave World says they are offering the mystery author two hundred and fifty thousand dollars to come forward and sign a deal.” The announcer grinned. “That’s right, folks, a quarter of a million dollars to do a book deal. For that kind of money, I wish I had written it. If you are the author of Sticks and Stones, contact Brave World publishing as soon as possible.”
“You okay, Curtis?”
Curtis tore his eyes from the television and looked at the bartender. “Huh? Yeah, I’m fine, Jack.”
“Okay.” Jack’s gaze went back and forth between Curtis and the television. “Seemed like that book story got you spooked.”
Curtis laughed. “Only cause of the money they were talking about.”
Jack shook his head. “I missed that part.”
“They are offering an advance about twenty times larger than normal.”
Jack whistled. “Wow. I bet you wish you wrote that book, huh?”
Curtis laughed. “I’m sure every author wishes they had. That’s a lot of money.”
“Even for you?” Jack reached for a glass under the bar. “I thought you were rolling in cash.”
“Stop playing with me. Most authors don’t make much money. I do okay, but I’m not rolling in millions. I live in a one-bedroom apartment around the corner. That should tell you how little cash I have.”
Jack laughed. “Strange that they have no clue who wrote it, isn't it?”
Curtis nodded and drained his glass.
6
February, 2016
Luke woke up, rolled out of bed, and sat down in front of his computer. Yawning, he ran a hand through his messy hair and clicked the mouse. The desktop appeared and he opened the web browser, clicking again to open his email. He rubbed one eye as he scanned the new messages, his brain automatically skipping over the spam and daily emails which he no longer read but was too lazy to unsubscribe from. A chat window appeared in the top right corner of his monitor, and he smiled as he clicked to maximize the window in the middle of the screen.
‘Video call?’
Luke sighed. ‘Just woke up. Sure why not?’
The video chat window appeared accompanied by a soft ringing. He answered the call and a girl’s smiling face appeared in the window. “Morning, Sandy.”
“Hey.”
“You look like crap.”
Luke laughed. “Sweet talker.”
The girl frowned. “You went to sleep?”
“Not ‘til five-thirty this morning.”
She shook her head. “So close to an all-nighter.”
“Couldn’t find a group.”
“Please.”
“An English-speaking group.”
“I don’t know why that’s so important anyway. You can play the game without talking to the rest of your group.”
Luke sniffed. “Sandy, I like ya, but you’re an amateur.”
“Hey.” Sandy frowned, but after a moment, she nodded. “I guess you’re right on that end. Technically you are a pro, since you make money playing games.”
“You could too.”
“Not ‘til I’m ready. If I go pro before I’m ready, they will eat me up and kill me so bad in the rankings that I’ll never claw my way to the top like you.”
“At least you’re smart enough to listen to my advice on that front.”
Sandy rolled her eyes. “I don’t think there’s any harm in playing without speaking.”
“Communication is everything. When each game counts, a second player heading up the wrong path can cause the entire team to wipe and die.”
“Yeah, okay, you’re right.”
Luke laughed. “Stop scaring me. You never agree with me.”
Sandy laughed. “Maybe I’m tired. I’ll get a couple hours’ sleep.”
“Team practice at ten a.m. You’re invited.”
Her eyes widened. “Really?”
“Sure. We are all making fresh toons. It will be good for you to hear the thought process we go through when creating a new character.
“You’re the best.”
Luke smiled.
“Hey, you got time to read something cool?”
“If it’s about gaming.”
“It’s not.”
He shrugged. “Then nope.”
“I think you’ll like it.”
“Why?”
Luke’s screen chirped to announce that he had a new email con
taining a file from Sandy. “Take a look at it. I know how many hours you spend perfecting your play, but trust me, this book will blow your mind.”
“What’s it called?”
“Sticks and Stones.”
“Stupid title.”
“Not once you read the book.”
He shook his head. “Fine. I’ll give it a look.”
“Great. I’ll see you at ten a.m.”
“Call me on the chat first. I’ll help you get into the lobby as a guest.”
Sandy nodded and disappeared from the screen. Luke moved his cursor to close the email, but stopped and considered the new file. He double-clicked, and his reading program opened. “Maybe she’s right. I could use a break from playing for half an hour.”
7
Many of you will have heard of the best-selling book titled Sticks and Stones. It is a fictional story of one family’s journey from poverty to world domination spanning generations. Critics agree almost unanimously that the book is excellent and well-deserving of its number one spot on the best-seller list for the past twenty-two months. What makes this newsworthy is the fact that, despite everyone’s best efforts, the author of the book is unknown. As sales continue to dominate the market, Aldous Freign, owner of Brave World Publishing, is still doing his best to find the author who is, at last tally, entitled to over six million dollars in royalties.
Tris Blanchette, Financial News Daily
Ariel stood as the two men dressed in dark blue suits entered the room.
“Sit down.” Victor, the older of the two men, black hair greying at the temples and a tanned, handsome face smiled at her as he pulled out a chair and sat down across from her. The other man, younger with light brown hair and blue eyes, also smiled as he sat in the chair beside Victor. “This is Aleksy. He is in charge of our Shadow Web division.”
“Nice to meet you.” Ariel reached across the table and the two shook hands.
“The pleasure is mine. Are you excited to get started?”
Victor made a grumbling sound in his throat. “Ariel doesn’t know why she’s here.”
“Then I will keep my mouth shut until I’m asked to speak.”
Victor nodded. “Tell us what you know about the Shadow Web, Ariel.”
“Not much.” She shrugged. “It’s like the normal web, except you need a special browser to access it.”
“The Torment browser, that’s right.”
“Isn’t it where criminals and sexual deviants hang out?”
“Originally, but regular people are beginning to show interest.”
“Why?” Ariel frowned. “Normal people are developing a taste for illegal activities?”
Victor turned to Aleksy. “This is a good spot for you to jump in.”
“Thanks.” Aleksy reached down and produced a computer bag while Victor powered up the projector already resting on the table.
“The Shadow Web was created for one reason.” Aleksy flipped the lid of the laptop open and pressed a button, reaching for the cable attached to the projector and plugging it into a port at the rear of his machine. “To provide security and anonymity for web users.”
“Word is that the encryption function of the Torment browser is unbreakable,” Ariel said.
“That’s true. So far. Every computer accesses the web with a specific signature called an IP address. With a traditional internet connection, it is very easy to track all activity back to the point from where it originates using this IP address. If you are searching a website, or set of websites, the servers hosting them will document your visit.” Aleksy squinted up at the white wall of the office which now acted as a screen for the projector and displayed his laptop screen. He moved the cursor and opened a regular web browser, navigating to a search program. “Anything a person views through the traditional web can be tracked and recorded.”
“Not if they are navigating through the Shadow Web.”
“Correct again.” He minimized the web browser and clicked on a shortcut labelled ‘Torment’. A new browser opened.
Ariel frowned, her eyes moving from one area of the screen to another. “It looks the same as the regular one.”
“There are subtle differences. The colour of the border is different, the font of the browser is not the same.”
“Are you sure?” She leaned in toward the screen.
“It’s slight, but yes.” He smiled. “Look at the top left corner.”
“Ah. Instead of a globe there’s a different icon. Is that a globe with horns, a tail, and pitchfork?”
“It is.”
Ariel laughed.
“Programmers have a sense of humour.”
“How is the Shadow Web so much more secure?”
“When you open and use the Torment browser, it takes the IP address of your computer and sends it whizzing out into cyberspace. It visits multiple places, making stops and leaving trails which lead to nowhere, all the while you are visiting actual websites and not being recorded as doing so. Anyone attempting to track your IP address will see hundreds, sometimes thousands, of rapid starts and stops at destinations which contain generic and untraceable data.”
“That’s pretty slick.”
“It sure is.”
“Can you visit normal websites?”
“That’s part of the problem.” Victor spoke up. “Until recently, it was impossible to visit regular sites using the Torment browser. You could only visit sites at the Shadow Web level.”
“Level?” Ariel shook her head. “You lost me.”
Aleksy half-lowered the lid of his laptop, the white light disappearing from his face as he looked at her. “The regular internet exists on one level, and the Shadow Web another. Five months ago, two things happened. Legitimate companies began opening websites in the Shadow Web, and developers released a new version of the Torment server which was able to surf the regular web.”
“Muddying the waters.”
“Of both ponds.” Victor nodded. “We knew it was only a matter of time before both sides were playing in the other’s yards.”
“How does any of this involve me?” Ariel scowled. “I am not savvy enough in either medium to be of use.”
Aleksy opened the lid of his computer once more. “We don’t need you for technical reasons. I wanted to try and explain both webs because we will be referencing them from time to time.” He looked at her and shrugged. “It will be good for you to know. Hope I didn’t confuse you.”
“Not at all.”
“Good.” Aleksy began typing on his keyboard and Ariel looked at the wall screen.
“A few years ago,” Victor said, “you helped our internet division and you were extremely effective.”
“I was a young operative then. Is sitting in an office typing away on a keyboard still the best use of my abilities? I’ve spent the last six years in the field working in dozens of foreign countries.” She shrugged. “I’ll do it if that’s what you need, Victor, but it seems a waste if you ask me.”
Victor nodded. “This is important, Ariel. Maybe more important than any clandestine manoeuvres currently in progress.”
She regarded each man and nodded. “Okay. What do you need me to do?”
“We need to locate someone.”
Ariel frowned. “A single person?”
Victor nodded.
“In which country?”
“We have no idea.”
Ariel laughed. “You always have at least a specific idea of where your target lives, Victor. We have access to the world’s information, after all.”
“I know, but the person we are looking for has remained extremely silent. Not a single peep.”
“Then how do you expect me to find him or her?”
Victor looked at Aleksy and the young man nodded. “Knowledge of the Shadow Web is slowly becoming mainstream.”
“So?”
“Some”—Victor nodded toward Aleksy—“feel this person will try to access the Shadow Web.”
“Who is this pe
rson?”
“Have you heard of the book called Sticks and Stones?”
She arched one eyebrow. “That’s who you want to find?”
Victor nodded.
She thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. “Okay. I’ll try.”
8
Luke pulled the car into his parent’s driveway and turned off the engine. He sat with both hands on the wheel, looking straight ahead.
“Babe?”
“Yeah?”
“You okay?”
He turned and smiled at his wife, Emma. “Sure, love. I’m fine.”
She reached over and put her hand on his head, gently grasping a handful of hair. “You thinking about games or this visit?”
“Neither.”
“Wow.” She massaged his scalp. “Usually I only see that face when you’re coming up with a new playing strategy. What is it, then?”
“That book I told you about.”
She raised her eyebrows. “It’s that good?”
The corner of Luke’s mouth tightened. “Yeah, it is. That’s why I keep asking you to read it. I don’t ask for much.”
“That’s true.” Her fingers kept working on his head. “As far as husbands go, you’re not too demanding.”
“Thank you.” He leaned over, kissed her, then snuggled in closer to nibble at her neck.
“Stop it.” She giggled and tilted her head back.
“Please read the book.” He bit her gently one last time, then pulled away and opened the door.
“You know I don’t read much.”
He snorted over his shoulder. “Only three or four books a week. If you ask me, it’s one of your sexiest qualities.”
“You’re weird.”
“Why?” He stood and smiled at her over the roof of the vehicle as she exited the car.
Emma laughed. “I don’t think I dated another guy who thought my love of books was a sexy quality.”
“Maybe that’s one of the reasons you chose to marry me instead of anyone else.”
“Maybe.” She sniffed and walked toward the rear of the car. “You’re also pretty easy on the eyes.”
Luke pressed a button on his key fob and the trunk made a clunking sound as it opened. He moved to join her. “Is that all I am to you? A gorgeous face?”