Sycamore 2

by Craig A. Falconer

  “Good,” Kurt said.

  “Face and hand okay?”

  “Getting there.”

  “Good. Good. I’m going to check some stuff as quickly as I can and then you’ll be able to come into the workstation to see how things are looking in the online department. Where’s Minter?” Ernesto asked. He still changed his tone every time he said “Minter,” like he was saying it grudgingly.

  “I think he’s still in bed,” Kurt said. “We had a rough journey, and he had to drive a lot of the way. I’ll leave him until you’re ready for us.”

  Ernesto was fine with that. “What’s that you’re watching there?”

  “Just a documentary about the mall.”

  “And that’s Tyler’s laptop, right?”

  “Yeah,” Kurt said. “He gave it to me so I could watch this.”

  “That was nice of him.” Ernesto looked at Ty, who stared back unflinchingly. He then went through into the workstation, which was apparently the favoured term for the computer room.

  “I probably should’ve switched the computer off after trying the password,” Ty said, largely to himself.

  “I did it,” Kurt replied. “But I think he’ll still get a notification.”

  Ty shrugged. “It’s not like it’s the first time, anyway.”

  Kurt went back to watching the documentary once more. He liked it more now that people he recognised were cropping up to lay the boot in.

  Harry and Joyce left the food court to “have a look around,” in Harry’s words. Lisa and Ty were still at their table, arguing about which kind of dog was the best at swimming. Kurt wasn’t trying to listen in — in fact, he was trying to tune them out and listen to his video — but each of their voices were both loud and animated.

  After what seemed like a few minutes but was in fact twelve, according to the video’s time bar, Ernesto emerged from the workstation. He walked straight over to Kurt again.

  “Ready when you are,” he said. “And there’s some good news, too.”

  “What is it?” Kurt asked.

  “I’ll let you see it for yourself. You can come without Minter if you think he won’t want to be disturbed.”

  “I’ll get him.”

  “Okay,” Ernesto said. It was difficult to tell whether he was pleased.

  Kurt set off across the walkway.

  “Oh, and Tyler,” Kurt heard Ernesto say. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about the two failed password attempts on my computer this morning, would you?”

  “Since when do I know anything about anything?” Ty shot back. “And how many times do I need to tell you that my name’s just Ty?”

  Kurt turned around to see how Ernesto would react to Ty’s backchat. He was surprised to see Ernesto laugh and walk away without responding.

  It took Kurt a while to reach Minter since he was still in his bedroom at the very back of Home. He was wide awake and fully dressed, sitting on his bed with Stacy’s computer on his lap.

  “What are you doing? Kurt asked, not meaning to sound as suspicious as he did.

  Minter spun the computer around so Kurt could see the screen. He was working in a video editing program, doing something with the Orwall footage that Stacy and Kurt had recorded in The Treehouse.

  “I take it you’re working on a copy, yeah? You have the original backed up?”

  “Obviously. I copied it to your computer with your USB stick, too, in case anything happens to this one.”

  Kurt nodded; Minter’s moves were sensible. “So what are you doing with it?”

  “I’m isolating the very best parts. Or the worst parts, I guess.”

  Kurt looked closer and saw all of the same things that had outraged him so much in the flesh on Sycamore’s vast wall of screens, each of which played an unedited stream of an unsuspecting consumer’s vision. Stacy had done a great job of pointing her hidden camera at the most emotive privacy violations in the first place — the screens showing people bathing or being amorous, for example — and Minter was now honing in even further.

  One plus point was that most of the footage didn’t show any faces since the Lenses obviously recorded outwards from the wearer’s eyes. In instances where one person was looking at another or into a mirror, Kurt suggested that Minter pixellate their face. If all went well, this footage would be world famous as soon as it went public, and Kurt didn’t want to embarrass any innocent people on a global scale. Minter agreed and said he would get to that next. He had no qualms about looking at even the most uncomfortable of user streams; supervising The Treehouse had, after all, been no small part of his job.

  “Leave all that for now, though,” Kurt said. “Ernesto wants to show us something on the internet. He says it’s good news.”

  “What news could be good news?”

  “That’s what I’m wondering,” Kurt said.

  “Apart from there being another whistleblower, maybe. Or Amos being dead.”

  Kurt allowed himself to pretend for a moment that Minter’s second suggestion could be true. It couldn’t, of course. If Amos was dead, somehow, Ernesto would have been ecstatic rather than quietly pleased. Amos’s death wouldn’t have been good news, it would have been delicious.

  Minter put Stacy’s computer down and joined Kurt in walking out of Tasmart Home and over to the food court. He hadn’t yet been inside the computer room slash workstation, and he didn’t know what to expect.

  As they crossed the food court, Ty called over to Kurt. “Have fun with Ernesto,” he said, shaping his fingers into a gun and putting them in his mouth to mock a gunshot then moving his other hand upwards from the top of his head to represent his brains blowing out.

  Kurt sarcastically applauded Ty’s performance and led Minter through the door in the corner.

  Ernesto wasn’t on the internet when they entered the workstation. He was reading something on the other laptop; the third of the three that had been in the room this morning, after his and Ty’s. He made no effort to hide the text so Kurt knew it was nothing secret. Kurt also noticed that the internet computer was turned off again. He asked why, and Ernesto replied that he always switched it off when he wasn’t using it. It was good practice, he said, in case someone was to come in out of turn.

  “Anyway, I’m glad you could both make it,” Ernesto continued, looking squarely at Minter.

  “Just show me how to get on,” Minter said.

  Ernesto shrugged and began to explain what Kurt had already heard from Ty, namely that only one computer had internet access because it was the only one with built-in 4G capabilities.

  Minter immediately raised the possibility of sharing the internet connection by using Ernesto’s 4G-capable laptop as a wireless hotspot, like many people used to do with their phones and tablets. Ernesto ruled this out as quickly as Minter brought it up, insisting that under no circumstances would he share a live connection via wifi.

  “What about a cable, then?” Kurt asked. “Because there are going to be times when we both need to be online at once.”

  Ernesto thought for a second. “I’ll have to clear it with Michael, but I think a cable might be okay.”

  “You don’t have to clear anything with Michael,” Minter said. “I’m in charge of the internet now.”

  Ernesto scoffed. “Michael has decades of experience in—”

  “Decades?” Minter interrupted. “So you think that because he knows more than me about 56k modems and floppy disks, he also knows more than me about today? And even back then, he didn’t work in security. He spent most of his career on military optics then switched to surveillance drones. I don’t need that idiot’s permission to run a cable between two laptops.”

  Kurt’s expression silently encouraged Minter to be less confrontational. Minter tried.

  “The only thing I don’t get,” Kurt said, “is why you’re okay with a cable but not wifi. All a cable does is restrict us to this room.”

  Ernesto was nodding. “That’s the point. Well, I’m not trying t
o restrict you. But it’s the same reason this computer is bolted down. If this is the only part of the mall where people can contact the outside, we can keep an eye on it.”

  “No one is trying to contact anyone,” Kurt said. “Bolting down computers and setting secret passwords just breeds resentment.”

  “What passwords?” Minter asked.

  “Who resents it?” Ernesto said, ignoring Minter in favour of Kurt. “Who said they resent it? Was it Tyler”

  “None of them said it, but how could they not? The only computer that can get them online needs them to log in first and none of them know the password!”

  “They can ask to use the computer at any time,” Ernesto said. “One of the more senior group members might have to monitor them, but so what?

  Kurt gave up arguing. “Can we just see the news?”

  Ernesto moved towards the computer.

  “I’ll do it,” Minter said. He was nearest to the computer, so it made sense. He held the power button down firmly rather than just pressing it, which didn’t escape Ernesto’s attention. While holding it, Minter rapidly typed something which included several numbers and letters and seemed to finish with shift, shift, return. The SSD took a few seconds longer to boot than it had previously and when it did the desktop appeared straight away, no password prompt in sight.

  “That’s weird,” Minter said, looking right at Ernesto. “It’s almost like someone knew how to bypass the log-in.” He walked away. “Better not tell Michael, right?”

  The door slammed behind him.

  Ernesto stared at the screen. “How did he do that?”

  “It’s what he does,” Kurt said, keen to know the real answer himself. The computer wasn’t in safe mode or guest mode or any other mode; Minter had just genuinely bypassed the need for a password.

  “But how?”

  “I don’t know,” Kurt said. “I’m just glad he’s on our side. So what’s the thing you wanted to show me?”

  Ernesto clicked into a browser. Kurt was thrilled to see “http://“ sitting there in the go-wherever-you-like URL bar, begging to be completed. Instead of typing anything, though, Ernesto clicked on one of the favicons in his bookmark bar. This favicon was a simplified version of the same SycaNews Worldwide logo that Kurt has seen in the video earlier.

  “This is all anyone is talking about,” Ernesto said. “Good news, right?”

  Kurt looked at the screen, entirely black but for a massive clickable headline written in white.

  The three-word headline, categorised by Ernesto as “good news”, was just about the last thing Kurt wanted to see. Ernesto clicked the link and a video article began to play, but the bold headline was burned in Kurt’s eyes:

  KURT JACOBS DEAD.

  12

  “This is good, right?” Ernesto repeated, responding to Kurt’s expression, which wasn’t as pleased as he had expected.

  Kurt didn’t say anything. He watched the news story, which got straight to the point. Kurt Jacobs and Terrance Minion had both been murdered by members of the Fury River Baptists, it said, which had now been officially designated as a domestic terrorist organisation.

  The story continued by saying that Kurt and Minter’s Seeds had been left at the scene. And though no bodies had yet been discovered, a threatening letter containing the names of several current and former Sycamore employees was currently being analysed by forensic experts. The camera then showed the hit-list: Kurt Jacobs, Terrance Minion, Colin De Vord, Michael Richardson, Isaiah Amos.

  Kurt couldn’t believe that the names weren’t pixellated.

  “Michael?” Ernesto said. “Why would you write Michael?”

  “To make it seem like the killer thought he still worked at Sycamore,” Kurt explained.

  The fact that Amos had announced Minter’s death both surprised and confused Kurt. Only days earlier, Minter had been publicly implicated in Stacy’s death and Kurt’s supposed kidnapping. This made Kurt think that Amos may have been forced to release the news; that even he wasn’t capable of controlling such a big story.

  It would be interesting to see how Amos spun the Minter angle in the coming days, but for now the thing that worried Kurt most was the forensic analysis of their fake hit-list. He had written it and could only hope that the exaggerated style of writing he had used would hinder the analysis. Kurt had deliberately placed a drop of his own blood on the page, so at least he didn’t have to worry about them reading into the presence of his DNA. He mentioned this to Ernesto, who nodded and kept watching.

  At the end of the three-minute video article, the newscaster read the ominous final line of the letter: “One by one the shepherds will fall. May their blood be cleansed by the River of Fury.”

  The video ended.

  “Do you think it’ll hold up?” Ernesto asked.

  “We only need it to keep them busy for a few days,” Kurt said. “A week, tops.”

  Ernesto clicked a link that said “Global Reaction”. Underneath a disclaimer that the following external content was neither provided nor endorsed by SycaNews Worldwide, the top headline said that Kurt’s funeral had been scheduled for Friday, which was only two days away.

  Kurt immediately began to envisage the scene: with the eyes of the world on the corpseless funeral, which Amos would no doubt turn into a huge public event, Minter could display whatever he wanted in the sky above the crowds. It would be perfect.

  The timing wasn’t ideal — they could have done with another two or three days — but Kurt thought it might be doable. He felt a lot better about the news than he had a few minutes earlier. He didn’t want to get the group’s hopes up, though, in case Minter’s plan proved harder to carry out than predicted, so he didn’t share this newfound hope with Ernesto.

  The global reaction to the news, which had first broken just after midnight, varied from place to place. British headlines spoke of Kurt as a “digital pioneer” and “tech genius”; an auto-translated German headline called his a “heroic life of invention cut short by religious extremists”; and the only French headline, more ambiguous in its stance, referred to Kurt as the creator of the “controversial and divisive Sycamore Seed”.

  “Click the French one,” Kurt said.

  Ernesto did. A video played. Frustratingly, there were no subtitles. Neither Kurt nor Ernesto could understand any of the words that weren’t “Sycamore” or “Kurt Jacobs” or, more oddly, “Frankenstein”. They still watched the clip, though, which featured the same shots of Kurt’s blood-spattered living room and the Fury River letter as the SycaNews piece. But where the SycaNews story had then cut to footage from the Talent Search, this French video cut to a talking head. A middle-aged woman, captioned as words that even Kurt knew meant “journalist and author”, spoke quickly with little emotion. A total lack of verbal context meant that Kurt couldn’t read too much into her expression, but in contrast to the overall tone of the reaction from elsewhere she struck him as positively indifferent.

  Some photographs then appeared over the woman, who was still talking. The first was of the limousine that exploded with Stacy inside, and the second was of Kurt’s Prendicco Finale wrapped around the gate of his Longhampton street after he crashed into it at speed.

  But it was the third picture that intrigued Kurt most: in it, he stood beside Minter and Professor Walker. A red circle then appeared around Professor Walker’s face, indicating that he was being discussed. Kurt concentrated until the picture faded, which was only seconds later. The woman spoke for another minute or so with no more pictures. The only visual cue came when she laughed awkwardly and gave a confused glance to the cameraman, seeming incredulous over something.

  “Does anyone in here speak French?” Kurt asked, keen to know what the journalist was hinting at with the link between Stacy’s death and Kurt’s crash and positively desperate to know what she was saying about where Professor Walker fitted in.

  Ernesto thought for a second. “Anthony would be the only remote possibility.”
<
br />   “Ask him,” Kurt said. “I’m going to tell Minter about this.” He walked to the door.

  “Kurt,” Ernesto called.

  “Yeah?”

  “You covered your tracks as well as you could. I wouldn’t have been able to think on my feet like that.”

  “Yeah,” Kurt said. “I guess we’ll see if it was good enough.”

  ~

  Kurt found Minter on his bed in Home, working again on the Orwall footage. Minter looked up as Kurt approached. “Did he let you on?”

  “The news says we’re dead,” Kurt replied.

  Minter put Stacy’s laptop down and sat up straight. “The SycaNews?”

  “And every other news outlet in the world.”

  Minter paused. “And when you say we’re dead…”

  “Me and you,” Kurt said. “They showed the letter we wrote, without even blanking out the names. And they blamed it all on The Fury. I think Amos actually bought it. I think he’s scared. Why else would he mention you? You’re supposed to be the bad guy, right?”

  “Did Michael see that we put him on the hit-list?” Minter asked.

  Kurt shook his head. “Not yet.” He was glad this was the main thing that was worrying Minter; it showed that he, too, took the news as a positive development.

  “And what about everywhere else?” Minter asked. “Did you see any other sites to see how the real media are reporting it?”

  Kurt told Minter about the French news report, with its indifferent journalist and its curious photographs. Minter’s expression changed with the mention of Professor Walker.

  “They linked his death to Sycamore?”

  “I dunno,” Kurt said. “Neither of us could tell what the woman was saying. You don’t speak French, do you?”

  Minter shook his head.

  “So what do you think? Is it good or bad that this journalist is digging around?”

  “It’s definitely something,” Minter said. “Did you catch his name? Because we had trouble before with a few people in the French press. Sycamore did, I mean. There was one old guy, some author who was always invited onto the news, and he would just lay into everything about the Seed. He’d go on about how it was a huge top-down conspiracy and you were a pawn and everything like that, you know? The kind of stuff that would be a real fringe belief over here, but they were having it on their prime time news with five million viewers.”