Final Set-up and Much Prayer
Tuesday afternoon, while I was still at work, I got a call from Sanda telling me that a package had just been delivered to her at Akeba House. After I knocked off for the day, I went down there to get it.
I met her at the gatehouse, and we walked along the wood walk to the sea. We looked down on the Hroyasail fleet, already tied up below, but I wasn’t about to disturb Dylan at this point. She had her work to do and I had mine.
“I still can’t believe there’s a whole business in supplying special parts for computers and stuff like that,” Sanda told me.
I grinned. “There’s always some service like that, and people like Otah to provide it.”
“But what would anyone use it for, except maybe to commit a crime?”
“Some of it’s undoubtedly for that, but not much, or the authorities would shut ’em down,” I told her. “A lot of it is for people making their own modifications in their own home or business equipment—modifications not approved by the manufacturer, who wants to control everything about his machines. Some of it is to modify stock security systems so somebody can’t get the master keys and defeat them. And some of it, like our cover story, is due to people forgetting to fix stuff that’s required by borough code, like fire and police alarms, because they were lazy or because they were too cheap to get a maintenance contract, only to be caught with their pants down when inspectors pull a surprise.”
She shrugged and looked suspiciously at the unopened parcel. “How can you be sure it’ll work? Or that Otah hasn’t cheated you by supplying some standard part?”
“He wouldn’t stay in business long if he did that, but if he has, then the plan won’t work and we’ll have to figure out something else, that’s all.”
“Why so many, then?”
I grinned wider. “Because the breakdown has to look natural. These are the same standard chips used in the old and venerable system this borough’s had for years, only with slight changes. They’re designed to react to different loads on the system. We can’t just have something break once—they’ll just come and fix it. We have to have a repeated series of breakdowns, and that means we have one go bad, get fixed, then another go, and so forth.”
“But won’t that attract suspicion, too?”
“You don’t know machines. When one part goes, others often follow. No, the more failures they find, the more the blame will be laid to the antiquated system finally giving up under the strain of years. Trust me—it’s my business.”
She put her arm around me. “I do trust you, Quin. It’s just all so—so incredible. I could never have come up with an idea as crazy as this.”
“Yeah,” I said. “That’s why people like me—the good guys and the crooks—get away with so much. The average person, even the average law enforcer, just doesn’t have the kind of mind to figure out things like this.”
“You’d think they’d learn.”
“They did,” I told her. “They created a corps of specialists in the Confederacy for people who thought like this, to catch them.”
“Sounds fascinating. But surely somebody by now would have designed a foolproof system.”
I had to laugh. “The ultimate foolproof system is invented every year or two and has been since the dawn of time. It usually lasts only until the next genius figures out how to beat it.”
Even you, Wagant Laroo, I thought, looking out across the ocean to the southeast. No fortress has ever proven impregnable, nor is the best security without flaw. I’m coming for you, Wagant Laroo. One day, step by step, I’m coming. And not even your alien friends will be able to save you from me.
Despite my glib assurances to Sanda, I didn’t trust any bootlegger for anything. Wednesday I checked out the circuits in the lab. It was a fascinating business, a computer so small you could hardly see it with the naked eye, but it was naturally centuries out of date. What could be done with computers now was nothing short of awesome—but it hadn’t been done, out of fear by power-loving, weak-kneed leaders who feared just who or what would be in control of humanity if they went too far. Here on Cerberus, where the system was even more retarded, I suspect that scientists from centuries earlier could probably have understood what I was doing.
Human history had always been like that—centuries, even millennia, of incredibly slow, creeping advance, followed by a few centuries of exponential multiplication of knowledge, followed by a collapse, a setback, and more lengthy periods of backwardness. We are hardly as backward as some, but the analogy still held. This was not an age of great advancement, if only for political reasons, nor the century for it. We were Neanderthals, primitives who could set the air conditioner on in our caves and drive comfortably down to the dinosaur pits.
The chips checked out perfectly. Otah’s people had done a good job, and now it was up to me to be worthy.
Wednesday evening I checked out a company flier, which wasn’t unusual, since I was due the next day in Comora, about a hundred and ten kilometers north, for a reorganizational meeting—standard stuff. What wasn’t standard was where I went that evening after changing into a Tooker Service Systems uniform and, with a little easy sleight of hand, picking up an official repairman’s tool kit.
My first stop was an apartment complex eight kilometers west of the main plant. My authentic Tooker ID badge got me easy entry—they didn’t even take note of the name, just that its face and mine matched—-and soon I was in the manager’s office.
“The entire city master alarm system is undergoing an overhaul,” I told her. “We’ve been having breakdowns all up and down the line. You can’t really tell if the damn stuff goes bad until it does, but they want me to check the line anyway.”
“Go ahead,” she told me, not really concerned. “It’s on level four, just above waterline.”
I nodded, told her thanks, then added, “This system’s so much of an antique maybe they’ll get sick of these things and put in a new one.”
“Ha!” she exclaimed. “Not until the Municipal Building itself burns down, or the fancy homes fill with water!”
I took the service elevator down and quickly found the master line that routed the fire alarm system to each floor and each room. One weakness of the system I’d spotted right away was the fact that people had to build in the trees—they couldn’t kill the trees or replace them for lack of a foundation. And since the bulk of the plants were underwater, the tops were generally hollow and the circulatory systems were not extensive, as well as being exposed to the sun.
In other words, no matter how inert the materials used inside the tree buildings themselves, the outer bark was highly flammable, and was covered by a municipal alarm system. Although it was almost impossible to set fire to anything inside the man-made structures, you were always completely surrounded by the tree and had a fair way to go to exit. Fire would be a severe problem, with smoke potentially blocking all the exits.
The computer fire alarm system, then, was designed to detect any temperature rise anywhere in the exposed tree by the use of a selective monitoring system at all levels above the waterline. Other than this early warning system, the only real escape was by the chutes, which could shoot you from any hall to the waterline. These areas had special systems to keep them free of smoke and were for the most part in the center, where everything was man-made and insulated.
There were few fires, and even fewer than ever amounted to anything. Hence the alarm system as such had been mostly ignored for years, considering borough budgets.
I was not out to start any fires. I ran a systems check, stopping at predetermined points, and then replaced the tiny, almost microscopic chips with specific ones I’d brought with me, being careful even to spray a bit of dust and gunk on them so that there would be no evidence of replacement. Anyone removing one would probably complain about how dirty the area was and remark that it was no wonder the chips had gone bad.
I’d never done this with a fire alarm system before, but I’d done similar things countless
times to security systems far more complex and technologically advanced than this. I’d never been found out once—even when they suspected what had been done.
It took less than half an hour to place all my key-chips, but I had more stops to make, hitting the usual maintenance route mapped on the shop board. In the other places I did absolutely nothing, but anyone checking on the mysterious serviceman would find that he’d done nothing not routine and that in fact the servicing had been ordered and logged. I knew it had: I’d slipped the order in myself, then made sure it wouldn’t come up on the assignment board so I could take it.
Modern man, I’m convinced, is vulnerable to any competent engineer. We depend on the computer to total our purchases, rarely checking each item for accuracy, and we rely on it for inventory, for security, for remembering to turn out the lights and remembering to keep the temperature in our homes at the same level no matter what. We trust them so much and take them so much for granted that most people can be had by simply nudging a computer to suggest what you want it.
By the time I’d reached the fire department I was well satisfied and had made about thirty stops on this particular system. According to service records at Tooker, false alarms were relatively common at almost every station, averaging two a week, so systems checks were routine—and pointless. At the fire station I removed and replaced the rest of my bootleg load in several places, and then left for the plant once again. Changing back to my normal clothes, I used my company pass to get back into inventory, where I replaced the tool kit and threw the uniform into the company laundry chute.
Then I went home.
The next morning I flew up to my conference, returned in the afternoon, and checked out early, going back down to maintenance and punching up their service record.
Two chips had gone bad at an apartment complex eight kilometers west of the plant, one around noon and the other not too long before I checked. The repair personnel were still on the job for that one. I smiled to myself, nodded, and went home for an early dinner.
By Friday there had been seven failures within the system, some at the apartment house, some through the system and apparently in the master control at the fire station, ringing every alarm on that particular string. There had also been one false alarm at another apartment—one I wasn’t responsible for but had hoped for, considering the average two a week. It would keep my tampering from being obvious, although I couldn’t imagine why any investigator or Tooker tech would even consider that somebody had gone to a lot of trouble and expense to ring false alarms.
I worked late on Thursday night, partly to catch up from the time lost at the meetings earlier in the week and partly because everybody was putting in at least one long day these days—we were really understaffed. Sugal had no idea where they went or what they were working on, but a rundown of the people pulled told me a little. All were junior staff like me, and every one of them had been involved in the field of organic computers, which were banned on Cerberus, before being sent here. It was only six, but they were all exiles, all experts in the same field, and all good minds. And, all of their forwarding addresses were care of the corporation headquarters building—a forwarding box service. Interesting. Obviously something was going on. Something I wanted to know about.
Late that evening, stretching my legs, I just happened to meet the night janitorial supervisory staff coming on. Most of the cleaning was automated, but the rules required a few human beings to make sure all was working right, since self-aware computers were banned on the planet. I looked at the men and. women coming on, skilled technicians themselves, and noted that some of them looked tired.
During the day on Friday all hell broke loose in the fire control computer, with false alarms all over the place and the whole system going crazy. It took half of Tooker Service to track down the problem and replace the bad parts, but by early evening they had completed the job, fortunately—since most people worked regular days like me, and thus weren’t there when all this happened.
Only the few night workers, most of whom lived in an apartment about eight kilometers west of the plant, went through hell. Few of them got any sleep at all, poor things.
According to the readouts, the system really was in awful shape. I hadn’t caused nearly all that happened to that system on Friday afternoon. Apparently my defects triggered breakdowns in real defects within the system. I had hoped for that but hadn’t planned on it The system really was in dire need of replacement.
While all those people were having problems, I managed to finish early, thanks to my extra-long day the day before. At a little before four I walked down to the main entrance for a previously scheduled VIP tour. Like most, this VIP tour had no VIPs; many of us took friends on little demo tours to show off, and the company encouraged such things as good public relations.
Dylan had put in sick for the day, so she had plenty of sleep and was in fine shape for the evening. With her was a tiny, thin olive-skinned beauty with long jet-black hair and eyes I’d never seen before. I had to stop and shake my head in wonder. I’d never get used to this switching stuff.
“Sanda?” I ventured.
She smiled and nodded. “You wouldn’t believe what this is going to cost you. I think you’re going to have to wine, dine, and romance half of Akeba House.”
I thought about it “Doesn’t sound too terrifying.” I looked at both of them, sensing an inward nervousness in each that they were only partly successful in masking. I hugged both of them and whispered, “Don’t worry so much. It’s going great”
Beyond the public rooms, a scan was necessary to make certain that only authorized employees passed beyond certain points. Since I had prearranged the tour, which wasn’t that unusual, entry caused no problems at all. Basically, you faced a door, put the headpiece on, then inserted your identicard in the slot If all was okay, the door opened and you walked into a small antechamber, whereupon the door closed behind you. You then slotted the card again and the second door would open, admitting you—in the same way as an airlock did.
If the more than four thousand Tooker employees had to do this, they would be all day just getting to work, so the internal computers simply recognized your body features and all you did was put your card in the slot. Scanning took a couple of minutes, and since the system was tied to the master computer—which, I discovered, was in orbit and linked to the entire surface by a series of satellites—it was also advisable to discourage an expensive overload of any local system. Scans within Tooker were required only in high security areas.
That, of course, was,a second flaw. Not only because they didn’t use full scan everywhere, but also because you could walk right past all those security areas, outside, separated only by a floor-to-ceiling sheet of thick, unbreakable, and alarmed plastiglass. For extra security, you could see the whole of the security areas from this walk—although of course you couldn’t get to anything going on inside or even get close enough to figure out what was going on. Computers monitored the inside of those areas to make certain that nobody except those properly scanned could enter, and the list of those so authorized was quite short.
We stood outside one such area while I acted the guide. Some of the staff were still huddled over consoles and transceivers, although they were thinning out as the end of the workday approached.
“This area controls the local banking system,” I told them. “Eleven borough small banks keep all their transaction records here, and shift money and assets between them. Of course it’s just a bank link to the master computer, where all our electronic money is stored, but that master computer holds only the total assets of every person and corporation. These machines hold where that money came from and where it’s to go, and can effect a transfer of funds within the master accounts with a simple set of coded orders. The codes are pretty simple—so much so that anybody who could get to one of the register machines there could steal millions in moments.”
“Then why aren’t they made more complicated?” Sanda
asked.
“Because, since everybody’s money is in the master computer, any unusual bulge in it, or any pattern of smaller bulges, would flag the central banking authorities that something was funny and promote an investigation.” We’d actually been over this material before, but with people still around we needed to complete the grand tour.
Her question, besides being a normal one, pointed up the second flaw in the system. It would be damned hard, beyond all but the best computer minds in the galaxy armed with unlimited resources, to get away with any sort of money theft on Cerberus. It better be—I was counting on everybody in the system being competent.
Down a long hall from the banking center was a small group of conference rooms. I selected one I knew wasn’t scheduled for anything and opened the door. It was the usual small meeting room—rostrum, round table of nice, polished wood, and five comfortable executive chairs. You could lock the room from the inside for privacy, but not from the outside. There was no need.
We entered and locked the door, and in a matter of minutes I had put both of them under. Oddly, Sanda was the hardest to hypnotize—she was just too excited.
Dylan had brought two small bottles of nuraform from the ship medikit, and I gave one to Sanda. Under as she was, I had her repeat the procedure and everything she was to do exactly, then gave her all the added cautions. I also added a suggestion that she felt neither nervous nor excited and would calmly and coolly perform her duties.
We left her in the conference room and I took Dylan up two levels to the company accounting section, also a security area. Almost everybody was gone now which made it even easier.
The bosses were long gone for the weekend, so I used Sugal’s office as Dylan’s waiting area. Again I made her go through her own procedure exactly, then left her.
I returned to the main level and took out not one but three identicards and, one at a time, put them in the slot, allowing the equipment to act as if a person were going through each time. I used a rear exit to avoid any undue attention, although I had a cover story ready if I needed one. The third card was mine, of course, and I walked out with that one.
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