When the interview was aired on WNN worldwide, Amir Razzak was hailed as the greatest friend of the Arab nations in history. Even the normally belligerent Iraqis invited him to visit their country. The few remaining Palestinians within Israel pledged their allegiance to Razzak, the World Council, and America—in that order. Immediately, plans were formulated at the UN to divide Israel and distribute the conquered lands to their former owners.
Each day Razzak became more and more visible on international television. Except in Israel itself, he was hailed as the most farsighted peacemaker in modern history. Razzak was even promoted by many in the media as the next president. When it was pointed out that he was constitutionally barred from running for president because of his foreign birth, the media suggested a constitutional amendment be started when Congress reconvened.
Razzak made two proposals to the American people that secured his power base in the government. First, he proposed that the sale of narcotics be legalized and taxed by the federal government. The proceeds would be used to fund more traditional businesses to compete directly with the Asian common market. He also proposed that existing drug dealers would be given a one-month period during which they could apply for amnesty from the government. Both the media and the public loved it. The Insta-pol rating was an astounding 94 percent.
Second, he proposed a ban on all Asian products sold in America and the European Common Market. This proposal later unified the radical American labor party behind him. They could finally see a leader who had their interests at heart. The American labor party had long said that weak-kneed politicians had allowed the Japanese to kick Americans around too long. Razzak assured them that full implementation of the cash-less system called Data-Net in Europe and America would be capable of crippling any country that refused to cooperate.
His final statement endeared him to the depression-wearied public. “I absolutely refuse to run for any political office,” he said with emotion. “I believe I can do more good for the country I love by serving in the background rather than seeking any official position. I neither need, nor do I seek, anything for myself.”With that announcement, Amir Razzak attained more stature in the public’s mind than any political office could have provided.
Television screens around the country flashed his Insta-pol rating at a never before seen 100 percent, from a viewing audience of nearly 90 percent of all registered American families.
“One thing I would ask,”Razzak said as he clasped his hands together and placed them under his chin, presenting the picture of a fatherly image to his nearly two hundred million viewers, “is that we not be slack in our efforts to track down and prosecute those who would undermine our country. We stopped the fanatics in Israel, but the fanatics in America are just as dangerous. They kill our leaders and defy our laws. They, as the Zealots in Israel did, demand that we obey their rules and bow to their gods. We cannot allow this. Help us to find and remove those who are a cancer on our society.”
The Insta-pol response dipped temporarily as the polling viewers mulled what Razzak said. Then it returned to nearly 90 percent again. Razzak knew he had sold the public on his anti-Christian, anti-Jewish campaign. Now to execute it . . .
21
ID
As the media attacks on the dissidents—now both Christians and Jews— grew daily, the Insta-pol showed President Alton’s popularity soaring. In an unprecedented move, she named Senator John Grant, the opposition leader, as the interim vice president, in a move calculated to quiet the conservatives; Grant accepted the position in hopes that he would have some input into the policy decisions. Public support for the Congress was at an all-time low of 26 percent. Their indecision and in-fighting, prior to being furloughed, had alienated the majority of the population. America had become a one-leader system and precipitously close to a nondemocratic government.
With the country clearly behind the new president and adapting to the cash-less system, Razzak decided it was time to take Data-Net one step further. It was time for the numbering system to be introduced.
Allen White, of WNN, was in his office working on a story when he received a call from a long-time contact at the White House.
“I’ve got something for you,” Rutland said with no formalities.
White had paid Rutland small amounts of money from time to time for information, and assumed that Rutland was just another minor bureaucrat trying to supplement his income with a little media money. The information was always worth a lot more than Rutland asked. If fact, White had been requisitioning three times what Rutland charged for it and pocketing the difference. The information was so valuable, his bosses never questioned him.
Rutland accepted the money to make it appear that he was taking bribes for leaks of sensitive information. In reality, it was Rutland who was in control, using White as a source to release new information to the public as needed.
Rutland continued, “The FBI has uncovered a major counterfeiting ring that is duplicating Data-Net users’ cards. They have proof that the drug cartels are using the system to siphon off money into dummy accounts. There’s also evidence that the banks are being systematically milked of needed funds. This thing can wreck the entire federal funds guarantee system if the leaks are not plugged.”
“How serious is it?”White asked as he typed furiously.
“If the administration can’t find a way to stop the fraud, we could lose half of the banks this year,” Rutland replied as he glanced over at the president, who was seated at her desk listening on the monitor.
“Half the banks!”White exclaimed. “Why, that would sink the country for sure. Can you provide any backup data?”
“It’s on its way,” Rutland said casually. “White took the bait,” he whispered, with his hand cupped over the mouthpiece. Rutland set the hook deeper. “We think there is a way to protect the system.”
“I’m listening,”White said excitedly.
“The Data-Net operations director, Dr. Kim Loo, suggests doing away with the cards altogether and going to a system that can’t be counterfeited.”
“How could that be done?”White asked as he saw his next promotion looming before him. His scoop on the cobalt bomb had catapulted him into a national figure. If he beat the other networks to the punch again, he could write his own ticket.
“Dr. Loo suggests that the entire Data-Net system be converted to use a magnetic-ink-tattoo ID.”
“How would that work?”White asked as he stopped writing momentarily. He had heard of a similar idea somewhere before, but he couldn’t remember where.
“A magnetic-ink-tattoo would be imprinted on each person’s hand. A scanner would be able to pick up the number and fingerprints and verify them immediately, just like a card, but it could not be counterfeited. Each person would have his or her own code.”
Suddenly it struck White where he had heard this idea before. “Isn’t there something like that mentioned in the Bible?” he asked. “There was a big debate about Social Security numbering people several years ago.”
Rutland’s eyes narrowed, but he forced himself to respond calmly. “I remember some stupid discussion by the radicals. You don’t support their position, do you?”
White stiffened at the tone in Rutland’s voice. It wouldn’t be healthy to be labeled a Christian supporter in the current climate. “No!” he replied gruffly, “I don’t! I was just asking a question. Thanks for the information. Your money will be in the normal drop.”
With that, White hung up. He immediately assigned one of his best writers to work up the story about fraud in Data-Net. By the time the story was completed, he had carefully woven in the information about a shadowy network of fanatics who opposed the ID system.
Allen didn’t concern himself too much about his lack of documentation on the Christian groups, since his network was owned by Thomas Galt, head of the Galt Network of twenty newspapers, WNN television, and the World Satellite broadcasting system. Galt, a seldom-seen recluse, had led the media as
sault against Christians for years. When the government began to leak rumors about secretive Christian groups, Galt had sent a personal memo to the managers of his enterprise to give maximum coverage to the stories. Galt had a grudge against Christians that went back more than thirty years to when he had owned a major Hollywood film studio. Christians had led boycotts of his first two films. Those boycotts had cost him nearly $100 million in lost revenues. Galt never forgot. Or forgave.
Allen White smiled as he read over the text of the Data-Net story. Galt will love it, he thought. Now I need several noted financial advisors to confirm the problem and praise the ID system as a means of controlling the fraud.
One of the experts he solicited, Dr. Rhinehart of Cal Tech, offered some great information that helped sell the package to the American public. “Obviously drug pushers, terrorists, illegal aliens, and escaped criminals will fight the system,” Rhinehart said smugly during the WNN interview.
“Once the magnetic tattoo is implemented, all the police need to do is to install scanners on the sidewalks to check IDs as people pass by. Anyone without a magnetic ID will be picked up. We’ll clear up the cities in just a few weeks. I personally helped to develop the Data-Net system,” Rhinehart added piously, “and I heartily approve of this new ID system.”
The interview with Rhinehart faded as scenes of the riots and massive looting were flashed on the screen.
Initially the response, according to the Insta-pol, was only fifty-fifty. But as more and more experts came on board, the acceptance climbed to nearly 70 percent. WNN then led a campaign to force the Alton administration to adopt the magnetic ID system.
Within days a temporary “law” had been enacted that made the new ID system available to all Data-Net users. Since there was no other monetary system, that meant everyone. Data-Net officials began recruiting thousands of unemployed workers to man the marking stations.
In less than a week, the first “volunteer users” were showing up at ID centers around the country. Tens of thousands of people lined up to get their identification number implanted under the skin of their right hand. The attitude of most of the masses crowding the ID centers was that of resigned acceptance. It was, as the media pointed out, necessary to ferret out the criminals.
Jeff Wells had become a regular TV viewer for the first time in his life. He knew that much of what was being shown about his system was trivia, rumor, and even outright lies by the media.
“The one thing TV is really useful for is sleeping,” he told Karen one morning.“All I have to do is flip it on and I’m sound asleep in ten minutes.”
She laughed with him. There had been precious little for them to laugh about lately. She had talked with her father, but it was obvious from his stiff response that he knew they were being monitored. She had been unable to say much except that she loved him and would like to see him.
“Are you well?” Bill Eison asked in an uncharacteristic display of emotion over the phone.
“Yes,” she responded. “Jeff and I are doing fine. He has nearly completed the project. We should be free in a few weeks. We’ll try to come out and visit.”
“I don’t think that would be wise just now,” her father responded hastily. When she hung up, she sat at her desk with tears rolling down her face.
Jeff asked, “What’s wrong?”
Karen wiped her eyes and said, “It’s just this crazy world we live in.”
Jeff just nodded in agreement. Karen didn’t know that he had already found and disabled half a dozen monitors planted in the room. He wondered if the people listening to the devices thought they had a run of bad bugs, or guessed he was disabling the listening devices. He didn’t really know or care. When the project was over, he and Karen would slip quietly out of Washington and get away—maybe to Wyoming. At least the horses and cattle would still be sane. Then he realized that every time he thought about the future, it included Karen. He wasn’t sure when the realization had struck him, but suddenly he knew he was in love with her. Does she feel the same way? he wondered.
Karen was already back at her console loading in some data Jeff had compiled earlier. Since Data-Net had become fully operational, the demands had grown exponentially. Jeff had devised an internal system that allowed the multiple computers to reprogram themselves as the needs arose—a self-modifying program able to interpret new data and change its logic to match each new need it encountered.
If the computer capacity had been available to expand the system, the program would have been capable of active thought and independent decisions. For weeks the internal compiler had been designing much of the software necessary to make the Data-Net run more smoothly.
The new idea Jeff was working on was to provide a voice synthesizer at each terminal location. Voice synthesizers weren’t new. They had been used as far back as the 1980s. Even most appliances and automobiles had them. But input and output were limited to a few simple voice commands. No computer program ever devised was capable of a full range of verbal communications—until now.
Assuming Jeff’s program worked, and Karen had no doubt that it would, the system would be voice responsive in virtually every language of the world. With its library of languages and a capacity for self-programming, Data-Net would be the first genuine artificial intelligence.
Suddenly Karen noticed an anomaly on her screen. In the midst of some data she was compiling, there appeared an assortment of unrecognizable symbols. She called to Jeff, who was inputting the language files supplied by outside programming groups from several universities.
“Jeff, I’ve got a problem. Take a look and tell me what you think it is.”
Jeff stepped over to Karen’s station.“What’s up?” he smiled at the cute frown on her face.
“I don’t know,” she replied, instructing the system to print a hard copy of the file. “Something has cropped up in the middle of the files I was compiling. Maybe it’s some bad memory.”
“No, it couldn’t be that,” Jeff said as he watched the printer spewing out several sheets of data. “The system would patch around the bad memory and send a message to maintenance to replace the defective core.”
As he picked up the printed pages, he whispered to Karen, “It’s a message from your father!”
“A message! How could . . .”
“Shhh,” Jeff put his finger to his lips. Then he walked over to his briefcase and removed a small device with an antenna. Flipping on the switch he said, “It’s okay now. I scrambled their transmitter.”
Down the hall, in the monitoring room, the agent ripped off the headset, cursing, “It’s doing it again,” he griped to the other agent lounging in a chair nearby.
“Probably static from something in the building. Try another frequency.”
“I did,” the first agent said angrily. “The static seems to be on every channel.”
“Must be in the building’s power system then. Just file a report and let maintenance handle it. We’ve been at this for weeks now and they haven’t done anything but work. So what’s the point anyway?”
Back in Jeff’s office, Karen voiced her astonishment.“What do you mean, a message? How could Daddy send a message? Could it be a computer error message?”
“No, Karen. The computer would send any error messages through the system printer. It’s in hex. Someone is talking through the compiler in machine language. That could only be your father. It’s a code we used to use.”
“Can you interpret it?” Karen was trying to comprehend what Jeff was saying. How was it possible for her father to talk to them?
Jeff was already at his computer typing. “Normally we use the data base and it converts our instructions over to machine language—in this case, hex. So I’ve instructed the compiler to convert the hex to English.”
Jeff called up the conversion routine, and suddenly a message appeared on the screen: “Karen, great danger for you and Jeff. Contact me at station two, Dad.”
“It is from Daddy!” Karen exclai
med. “How is that possible?”
“Back when I was first designing Data-Net, your father and I discussed the feasibility of simultaneous processors and how the main controller would need to function. We would often transmit ideas via Data-Net, through the compiler itself. I thought I had closed the port a long time ago. Apparently your father figured out a way to reopen it. Station two is another system console I enabled in his facility. He’s a pretty crafty old programmer himself,” Jeff said admiringly. “I don’t think there is another programmer in the world who could have reopened the port directly into Data-Net’s memory banks. With access to the internal compiler, anyone could input data and defeat the monitoring system. Having access to the compiler on Data-Net is a little like being able to withdraw money from the world’s biggest bank, without any record of it.”
“Can you reach Daddy now?” Karen asked breathlessly.
“I think so,” Jeff said, as he typed more instructions into the system. “First I want to be sure that the data is encrypted in both directions and the calls are not recorded. As far as Data-Net is concerned, no one will ever know we communicated.”
As soon as his instructions were compiled, Jeff typed in: “Hi, Dr. Eison, how are you?”
“Good, Jeff,” came an almost instant reply. “Is Karen there?”
“Yes, sir,” Jeff typed in the reply. “What’s wrong?”
“I have information vital to you and Karen,” Dr. Eison responded. What had sparked his need to contact Jeff was what he had seen and heard from several close colleagues around the country. They reported friends and associates being arrested and held without appeal. Some suggested that internment camps had been set up in various parts of the country to hold political prisoners. He had discounted the reports as just rumors until the incident with Jeff and Karen. Then he knew something was terribly wrong. He had begun a systematic check of friends he knew were Christians or Jews. He was alarmed to discover that several were missing, along with their families.
The Illuminati Page 25