Uroboros Saga Book 2

by Arthur Walker

  The merchant squares were full of individuals selling bottled water at outrageous prices and tarp material for tents. One could barely hear the shouts over the footfalls of the crowd as it moved through carrying with it families, individuals, and soldiers tasked with keeping order. Matthias paused under the overhang outside a shoe store to check his mobile. The local networks were choked with traffic as everyone was desperately trying to check mail, make international phone calls, and make travel arrangements.

  It looked as though his meeting was being pushed back, which came as no surprise. Traveling the city would take anyone, regardless of their means, quite a bit of time. It took hours to reach the meeting point, a small cafÈ near an industrial complex beneath a towering housing project. Everything in the area was in various stages of construction, with only a few of the older parts of the original neighborhood remaining. Matthias stepped into the packed cafÈ and took up the only open seat where two other men were seated.

  “Okay if we share a table?” Matthias asked in his best Portuguese.

  “We saved you a seat,” one of the men replied in English.

  “Ah, thank you.”

  The man was younger than Matthias thought he would be, and distinctly North American from his shoes to his shoulder bag. His associate looked well-traveled, and bore obvious cybernetic augmentations. Matthias could see he was uncomfortable which means they probably knew more about him than he’d have preferred.

  “I’m Ashton, and this is my associate, Perfidy,” the younger man said, offering Matthias a still covered cup of coffee.

  “Unfortunate name,” Matthias remarked.

  “I’m an agent of misfortune generally, except for today,” Perfidy replied, smiling weakly.

  Ashton shifted as if uncomfortable for a moment, then turned to look about the room for a moment. There was an array of dirty coveralls and bearded faces, greasy hands and dust covered boots. Satisfied they could speak freely, Ashton turned to Perfidy.

  “Still no electronic surveillance detected. I think we’re good to proceed,” Perfidy said with a nod.

  “The work you’ve done for us has been exemplary, but I’m sure you are already aware of the scope of your talents?” Ashton began.

  Matthias gave a slow single nod to the affirmative.

  “We’re aware that you engage these internships as a cover for your other “activities,” and our employer has known from the beginning,” Ashton continued.

  Matthias moved to stand, but Perfidy grasped him tightly by the arm. Matthias tried to will the cyborg to release him, but the psychic countermeasures in place made him momentarily dizzy.

  “There’s no reason to be alarmed, and you are in no danger,” Ashton said abruptly swiping Perfidy’s hand from Matthias’ wrist.

  “There’s a high bounty for...”

  “Hssst, we’re not here to talk about that,” Ashton said, turning his gaze to the room nervously.

  “What do you want?” Matthias asked, crossing his arms.

  “Our employer wants to put you in charge of your own project, full creative control and you would answer only to him, through me,” Ashton explained.

  “To what end? Who do you work for?” Matthias asked, suddenly very curious.

  “I work for a single investor. He would like you to continue your work in creating a stable intelligent agent for commercial use,” Ashton explained, wiping sweat from his brow with a napkin.

  Matthias smiled slightly, wondering how much Ashton’s employer knew about his previous employment. There were already secretly maintained intelligent agents in play, and making more was strictly prohibited by law. Still, returning to his old work was deeply appealing.

  “What you’re asking me to do might be impossible, not to mention illegal,” Matthias stated taking the lid off his coffee.

  “We know with certitude that it’s possible to make an intelligent agent,” Ashton said, raising his eyebrows and meeting Matthias’ gaze. “And, my investor plans to have the necessary permits and clearances by the time you have a product. It isn’t illegal to be in the act of development, only to house actual intelligent agents of certain capabilities.”

  Perfidy held up a hand, then turned his head sharply toward the window scanning the crowd with his augmented eyes. Matthias and Ashton quietly drank their coffee and waited nervously. After a few minutes, Perfidy nodded and put his hand back on the table.

  “We’re good, whoever it was moved on,” Perfidy reported.

  “How are you sure creating a commercially viable intelligent agent is possible?” Matthias asked.

  Ashton seemed to pause as if to choose his words carefully.

  “It is as though such a thing was written into the stars,” Ashton said sending his eyes skyward.

  Matthias chuckled.

  “Would I be able to continue working remotely? I have obligations,” Matthias explained quietly.

  “My investor has requirements relative to your time to meet certain milestones on time. Everything is up for negotiation, of course.”

  Matthias lowered his gaze for a moment to give the impression he was giving the matter thought. He already knew what he was going to do, and how he would do it. Creating the illusion of deliberation was important if he was to negotiate the terms he wanted. It seemed to work, because Ashton rubbed his face wearily then pushed a slip of paper across the table.

  Matthias put his hand out on the table covering the slip of paper and held it there for a second, lowering his head to look in Ashton’s eyes. Ashton blinked for a moment, looking down at Matthias’ hand. Perfidy just smirked at the quiet game the two were playing, having seen the shameful display many times before.

  Matthias turned the slip of paper over and gazed at what was written on it. His eyebrows went up, ruining his best poker face. Matthias slid the paper back across the table. He quickly withdrew his hand ignoring Ashton’s smiling face.

  “You were going to say no, but now you aren’t sure. Am I right?” Ashton asked.

  “I think you people know a little too much about my business,” Matthias replied, looking over at Perfidy nervously.

  “This meeting was supposed to just be an alibi for your other activities in the event you were questioned. With my employer, very little is ever as it seems. I can tell you with certitude there will be no consequences if you decline. But, I’d think real hard about saying yes as well,” Perfidy warned, folding his arms.

  “I’m not the only one who should engage in some careful contemplation. What if I get caught and you get caught working with me? We’ll all die in prison. Is your investor, employer, whatever, good with that? Just because I take a commercial gig doesn’t mean I’ll cease in engaging in my own form of activism,” Matthias whispered, leaning over the table.

  “You do a pretty good job of obscuring your age, and an even better job of erasing your past. You already have all the tradecraft to avoid all but the most careful detection, the sort no one can escape. They started requiring ‘mechanics’ to register with the CGG years ago, but you’ve even evaded that somehow. It leads one to make leaps of logic. While I and my associate here had no idea what he meant, our investor wanted it conveyed that he knows who you are,” Ashton explained calmly, stirring more sugar into his coffee.

  “Everything you think you know about me is based on the educated guesswork of your silent partner? I would like to know, do you trust him or her?” Matthias asked.

  “It’s a he, and yes, I trust him,” Ashton replied.

  Matthias turned and looked at Perfidy expectantly.

  “No, but I don’t trust anyone. Trust is an occupational hazard for someone like me,” Perfidy stated, keeping his gaze locked to the crowd outside.

  “That’s how I work as well. I don’t tend to trust anyone, either. Instead, I collect the necess
ary assurances to make sure that both parties don’t end up at the sad end of the arrangement,” Matthias said, leaning back in his chair.

  “Then go about your business today and think about what sort of assurances you would require, or collateral if you will, to proceed,” Ashton said collecting his things and standing from the table.

  Matthias watched them leave, still shaken by what he’d heard. He’d dwelled in the shadows for a pair of decades at least, no one even shining a light in his direction during that time. He felt like a ghost resurrected as he considered what he’d seen written on the scrap of paper. He wasn’t worried so much about the people he knew of that could make such an offer. It was the people he may not know of that scared him more.

  São Paulo grew smokier as the afternoon arrived, but not with the exhaust of vehicles or the hum of industry. It was revolution that filled the sky with black smoke and the air with noise. The restoration district bore the scars as cobblestones had been pulled from the street and used as projectiles. Shattered barricades and an orphaned riot shield sat atop rubble at the corner where grand festivals once entertained a peaceful populace. Matthias walked through neighborhoods untouched by the violence and places that still burned with the anger of the people.

  His next appointment wasn’t remotely close to where he’d met attended his job interview, and his feet ached by the time he arrived. The government controlled currency exchange sat in a strictly controlled area with high fences, control points, gates, and hundreds of special government police. He stopped to check his mobile before proceeding toward the checkpoint.

  The guards were wary, but not overly vigilant as riot police had kept the unrest contained at least ten blocks away. Matthias adopted his most friendly demeanor as he approached, doing his best to look as he was, a simple tourist. Cameras turned slowly back and forth from the top of the checkpoint structure, itself a special police precinct with three floors and probably four dozen rooms, offices, and cells. Surveillance drones hummed as they hovered overhead every fifty yards or so along the fence.

  “Hello, I was wondering if the exchange was open today,” Matthias asked in his best Portuguese.

  “Yes, but only to banking officials and repossession agents. May we see your credentials?” the guard asked, shouldering his rifle and beckoning for Matthias to approach.

  “Absolutely,” Matthias said, pulling out his mobile.

  Matthias stepped up to the fence and waved his mobile over the sense installed beside a keypad that controlled the gate. The guard inside the post nodded, and the gate began to slowly open. Matthias stepped slipped through the gate and traversed the remaining distance to the checkpoint. The guards looked in his shoulder bag and used a wand to look for large metal objects on his person before allowing him to proceed.

  There were few workers on site, and most of the commercial exchange buildings were occupied only by security personnel. The currency exchange was the exception, with repossession agents and financiers barely letting the front doors rest as they came and went. Matthias was almost to the currency exchange when an explosion sent the outer fence between checkpoints crashing down. There were shouts and the audible hum of drones being deployed overhead.

  “Too soon,” Matthias muttered under his breath.

  He hurried to the exchange, managing to get inside before the doors swung shut and locked in response to the chaos outside. The building quickly went into lockdown around him, sending up cries of exasperation from the exchange floor where currency exchange workers were trying to make a meager living. Another explosion shook the building, this time from further away.

  Matthias wasted no time heading for the nearest terminal. He pulled code he’d uploaded remotely from the network and executed it, watching it compromise all but the physical countermeasures. There was little he could do about those, but the information he and his compatriots desired would be his in moments. As his code resolved, the physical countermeasures went down, leaving the government network utterly helpless.

  He gazed at the terminal for a moment, wondering how it had happened. Matthias had his answer a moment later when someone from outside the network used his backdoor and the flaw his code created to begin manipulating the currency records for the exchange, making small changes in the metadata for each. Whoever it was, they weren’t stealing or even doing something that would immediately profit anyone in particular. Whatever they were doing was part of some very large picture Matthias hoped he would never see the whole of.

  Matthias used his increased access to defund secret prisons holding political prisoners and to close them outside of regular protocols. He could almost hear the cell doors holding old allies swing open in the distance. There was so much more Matthias would have liked to have done, but there was no time. Even as he finished collecting the intelligence he’d been sent to acquire, the physical countermeasures reasserted themselves, blocking his own psychic abilities and any further meddling.

  Stepping away from the terminal he moved to the exchange floor to file the bogus papers he’d brought with him to solidify his alibi. By now, the protestors were on the grounds pushing past the ruined fences outside. Special government police would be making hasty decisions and they would have to open the buildings, even just for a moment, to retreat within. Matthias exited the exchange floor as the steel plates began to recede from the doors and windows, allowing government workers and police to shelter inside.

  Matthias slipped out a bathroom window and dropped to the ground, his ears assaulted by the chaos of riot police and angry citizens clashing across the once unstained exchange square. The air was thick with tear gas and smoke, and it would be minutes before an opportunity to escape the exchange grounds would appear.

  Stepping into the crowd, Matthias took out his hat and placed it over his mouth doing his best not to breathe the tear gas. He would need all the lung capacity he could muster. He turned in the direction the crowd was marching and chanted alongside them. Every few moments he stepped backwards, slowly making his way toward the gap in the fence. People pushed past him carrying stones, old hunting rifles, and hand painted signs voicing their displeasure. The streets beyond the gap were filled with standing protestors, each waiting their turn to occupy the exchange and voice their distress at the recent change to governmental fiscal policy.

  Matthias felt a twinge of guilt at being able to do little in changing the situation for the average person around the world. Most people were born into debt, their parents not being able to even afford to bring them into the world. Little he did would change that any time soon, but he could certainly see that they were avenged, and that the people who stood to profit lived comfortably in fear of the radicals and revolutionaries that opposed them.

  The protestors, armed with stones, beat on the steel plates that had turned the buildings into bunkers. The din was fading in the distance as Matthias walked along the main road leading into what used to be middle class neighborhoods, markets, and schools. There was nothing now but buildings the financial institutions couldn’t sell having made so many destitute. It was like the whole town was curling around to eat its own tail.

  Matthias reached into his pocket instinctively, his own tele-mechanical senses warning him he was about to get a call. A moment later the phone began to vibrate in his hand, the call coming in via a heavy intelligence grade encryption. He let it ring a couple of times before bringing the phone up to his ear.

  “Hello?”

  “Matthias, its Ashton.”

  “Well, this is a surprise. I figured it would be me giving you a call. Where are you?”

  “I’m not far away actually. Would you like a lift to wherever you’re heading next?”

  Matthias let the hand holding his phone fall to his side, cursing under his breath. He waited for a moment to calm his nerves before bringing the phone back up to his ear.

  “You’
re tracking me somehow. I don’t like being tracked,” Matthias said, looking around at the rooftops and windows immediately around him.

  “Actually, I’m speaking purely on assumption,” Ashton replied.

  “Assumption of what exactly?” Matthias growled.

  “My employer made predictions about what you’d do based on previous data, calculated where you would likely be, and when. He assumed you’d be a few blocks southwest of the currency exchange by now and on your way to either Santos or Praia Grande,” Ashton stated, the sound of wind or a passing vehicle barely audible in the background.

  Matthias froze in his tracks. Whoever these people were, they had some sort of ‘revelation machine’ and were using it to predict his movements. As far as he knew, no one had developed such a thing and the notion of one filled him with terror. Ashton’s employer was playing with the sorts of things that could wreck the world and steal a person’s destiny from them. Such a device or program could infringe the agency of people before they even had a chance to exercise it.

  “I don’t understand why you need me, or my talents, with what you already have access to,” Matthias replied, changing his intended course.

  “My employer isn’t as interested in what you can do as much as the substance of your desires. It is what you want to do with the world that interests him the most. We are not seeking just a commercially viable intelligent agent, but one that is both stable and ethical. It’s probably outside my purview to say so, but my employer believes that intelligent agents should necessarily have rights and the ability to choose their fate,” Ashton explained.