Virtual Sabotage

by Julie Hyzy

  “Now do you understand?” Kenna asked. “This isn’t normal.”

  Vanessa ran a hand through her hair. “The only elements in VR that can’t be copied are the ones copyrighted by Virtu-Tech. They do that so people have to pay to access them.”

  “Right.”

  Squinting across the office at some middle distance, Vanessa continued to reason aloud. “But purchased elements can’t be moved, either. Plus, access expires after a relatively short length of time.”

  “Uh-huh.” Kenna could be patient now that Vanessa was beginning to grasp what she had sensed all along.

  “We have to assume that Jason knows how to copy. That he didn’t simply make a mistake.”

  “I think that’s a safe assumption,” Kenna said. “I may not like the guy, but I respect his skills. He knows what he’s doing in there.”

  “That means,” Vanessa said as she turned to her keyboard and began tapping, “we’re looking at a whole different type of component. A feature we’ve not encountered before.”

  “Exactly,” Kenna said. “Can you isolate it? Can you trace it back to its source?”

  Working faster now, Vanessa tightened her jaw. “They haven’t designed a program I can’t navigate.” Data from Kenna’s thumb drive finished uploading. “If the monster is still out there, I’ll find him.”

  Kenna paced. “What happens when the person who created the werewolf goes to look for it and it’s not there?”

  Vanessa hummed. “Good question.” She lifted her fingers from her keyboard and stared ahead. “I’d say it depends on what we discover when we trace it. Virtu-Tech automatically prevents copying from the moment a new element of theirs is released. What they don’t do, however, is prevent copying from their end.”

  “So?” Kenna asked. “How does that matter?”

  “Their designers work cooperatively. That means that anything created by a team member needs to be accessible to all of them. If this came out of Virtu-Tech, then chances are anyone working from their systems can retrieve the werewolf at any time. They have access to it from their own system, meaning they don’t need to search for its most recent appearance, the way you did.”

  “And if this didn’t originate from Virtu-Tech?”

  “Then somebody else has acquired some sophisticated technology.” Vanessa returned to the keyboard. “Let’s deal with that question later. Right now, I’m on the hunt for your monster.”

  Twenty minutes later, Vanessa sat back.

  “You found it?”

  “Not yet.” Vanessa ran her fingers through her hair again. “But I’ve engineered a program to isolate its identifying markers. I’ve got it running now, but results could take a while.”

  Kenna sat in a rolling chair across the aisle from Vanessa. “So we wait?”

  “So we wait,” Vanessa agreed.

  Kenna stared at the display on Vanessa’s monitor, but she was too far to make out any of the rapidly updating information. Dragging her gaze away, she tried to take her mind off the search. “Stewart mentioned a new man in your life,” Kenna said. “How’s that going?”

  Vanessa laughed, though not cheerfully. “Not sure yet. He’s a good listener. Almost too good. I feel like he’s deeply interested in everything I have to say.”

  “That’s not the worst thing.”

  “But he’s overly interested, if that makes any sense,” Vanessa said. “I wish I knew more about him.”

  “What do you know?” Kenna asked.

  “His job takes him out of town from time to time. As a matter of fact, he’s in DC today. He’s headed back tonight.”

  “What does he do?”

  “Sales.”

  “Of what?”

  “I didn’t ask. Probably should have.” Vanessa shrugged. “He’s good-looking, fit, and generous with compliments. We’ve seen each other only a couple of times, and he can be very charming.”

  “I’m sensing a ‘but.’”

  Vanessa wrinkled her nose. “He always wants to stay in. I wouldn’t mind going out. We haven’t actually been on a real date yet. No dinner, no walk around the park, no movie.”

  “Vanessa.” Kenna tilted her head. “Is this turning into another booty-call relationship? You swore you were done with those.”

  She grimaced. “It’s not like I don’t enjoy myself, you know. And he’s really pretty good in bed. Attentive.” She made a so-so motion with her head. “Most of the time.”

  “If you’ve only gotten together twice,” Kenna said, “there’s no ‘most of the time.’ He’s either attentive or not. Which is it?”

  “I know. I know. I stink at this, don’t I?” Vanessa glanced back at the monitor before continuing. “This is why I wasn’t going to tell you about him. Not until I knew where the relationship was going. I’m embarrassed to admit that I’ve fallen into the booty-call trap again. You’re so much stronger than I am. I hate confrontation.”

  “This shouldn’t be confrontation,” Kenna said. “When you’re in a relationship, you should be able to express your needs without it becoming a problem.”

  “I know that on a logical level.” Vanessa picked at her fingernails. “But knowing what’s right and actually doing what’s right are not the same thing. It’s hard.”

  “Watch out for yourself, Vanessa. Don’t let anyone take advantage.”

  Vanessa nodded. “Don’t hate me for putting it this way,” she said, “but what I really want is what you and Charlie had.”

  Kenna’s heart lurched. She didn’t trust herself to speak.

  “I wish I knew how to get there.”

  Vanessa’s monitor dinged. In a flash, she returned to studying it, fingers flying across her keyboard.

  “What is it?” Kenna asked. “Did you find it?”

  “Hang on.”

  Kenna got up and began pacing again. She stole glances over Vanessa’s back to study the screen but only saw diagrams and images she couldn’t decipher.

  Picking up the pace, Vanessa leaned closer—like a person hunched over a steering wheel—staring in at the digital road ahead. She made noises as she worked but Kenna couldn’t discern whether they were expressions of aggravation or optimism.

  A long minute later, Vanessa pushed back in her rolling chair, arms extended in exultation. “Woo-hoo!” she hollered. “I nailed you, you wily bastard.”

  “Yes!” Kenna cheered. “Where?” she asked. “Where did he come from?”

  “He’s a Virtu-Tech creation. No doubt about it.” Vanessa pointed. “And he was born in the building right down the street. Chicago headquarters.”

  “How did he get into Charlie’s scenario?” Kenna asked.

  “That, I can’t tell you. I’ve been insisting that technology for remote access doesn’t exist.” She tapped her station. “But after seeing this and knowing what happened to you in there, I’m starting to have my doubts.”

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Patrick opened his front door. “Kenna?” he said, his voice high in disbelief. “My god! Get inside.” He shut the door quickly.

  When he started toward her, looking ready to wrap her in a bear hug, Kenna stepped back.

  “What is wrong with you?” she asked.

  The hallway light threw a warm yellow glow across the foyer of the Danaher home. So unexpected was Patrick’s reaction, Kenna wanted to retreat into the darkness again.

  He shook his head as though trying to speak; nothing came out but choked emotion.

  “What?” she asked.

  “We have to talk,” he said in a husky voice.

  He looked older than she remembered. She wondered what stress Patrick was under to cause him to look so drained.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” he said.

  The foyer was tight with a small living room/dining room combination to her left and beyond it a s
winging door that led to the kitchen. The place was cozy, full of warm colors and soft furniture.

  “Kenna! Is that you?” Patrick’s wife, Mallory, pushed through the swinging door, making eye contact as she made her slow way across the room. A toddler gripped her index finger in his fist, walking alongside with unsure steps. “We were so very sorry to hear about Charlie. How heartbreaking. Are you all right?” As she reached Kenna, she asked, “Is there anything we can do for you?” and pulled her into a one-armed hug.

  “Thanks, I’m hanging in there,” Kenna said, feeling awkward.

  Releasing Kenna, Mallory flashed a glance at her husband, a look filled with unabashed affection. “Don’t just stand there, honey, offer Kenna a seat.” She shook her head good-naturedly. “I can only imagine how much you two have to discuss, so I’ll stay out of your way. I can’t say the same for little Ryan here, though.”

  As if on cue, the towheaded toddler reached his arms to his father. “Uppies,” he said, blue eyes bright, expectant.

  Patrick scooped him up, nuzzling against the boy’s soft cheek.

  “Would you like anything to drink?” Mallory asked.

  “I’m not staying long,” Kenna said.

  Patrick’s eyes clouded. “I can understand that. Come on,” he said. “We’ll talk in the family room.”

  “Like, about what happened in my apartment?”

  “That, and a few other things,” he said.

  ◊

  “Charlie orchestrated all this?” Kenna asked. “Without telling me?”

  They sat in wing-back chairs, facing each other in front of a dark fireplace. The family room was small, comfortable, and warm. Kenna stretched her feet out toward the dead hearth. Despite the fact that no fire crackled in its depths, it felt good—homey—to be here, and for a heartbeat she remembered what it was like to relax.

  Patrick shifted his son in his arms. “The dissident faction wouldn’t have half the information it does if it weren’t for Charlie.” Ryan pulled his thumb into his mouth as he rested his head against his father’s chest. “Charlie hacked into Virtu-Tech’s mainframe and uncovered a lot of intelligence I wasn’t privy to. He brought it all to my attention, knowing I had some influence there. That’s when I knew we had to act. But in his zeal to collapse the initiative, Charlie went in too deep.” He paused and their eyes locked. “And when Virtu-Tech discovered Charlie’s interference, they set a trap for him.” Patrick was quick to reassure her. “No matter how hard they tried, he didn’t give anything up—he died protecting us all.”

  She nodded. Knowing Charlie died a hero did little to ease the grief twisting like a knife in her heart, making tiny, painful cuts with each new shred of information. “That’s when I found him?”

  Patrick nodded enough to answer but not enough to disturb his son, whose eyes were slowly closing.

  Kenna looked away. She should have gotten to Charlie sooner.

  Patrick shifted his son in his arms again. Little Ryan had fallen asleep, his blond head turned inward, one little fist curled around Patrick’s collar. Patrick leaned his cheek against his son’s head. Ryan’s mouth worked at the thumb, then twitched into a smile before going slack again.

  “It’s past his bedtime, isn’t it?” she asked, with a glance out at the dark windows.

  “Way past.” Patrick sighed. “But how much longer do you think I’ll be able to hold him like this? Pretty soon he’s going to be too big for his old dad.”

  When he looked down at Ryan, Kenna’s chest tightened. How long, indeed. She and Charlie always assumed children were in their future. Now, they had no future at all. No longer did she imagine herself with a little one on her hip. She looked away.

  “Why didn’t Charlie tell me any of this?” she asked.

  Patrick seemed to have forgotten she was there. He gave a thoughtful shake of his head. “He planned to. There’s no doubt about that. He was waiting for proof, though. Solid evidence before you got involved. Charlie knew what we were up against. Knew the danger. There’s too much at stake.”

  Kenna sat back. “Because Virtu-Tech is controlling consumer purchases?”

  Patrick nodded. “That and more. By creating Sub Rosa they’ve introduced a state of mind where people do little more than exist. In Sub Rosa, everyone is utterly agreeable. There are no conflicts, no controversy. Because no one cares. The higher functions of the brain are suppressed. Everyone does precisely what Virtu-Tech ‘suggests’ they do. They ‘consent’ to everything. It will be the end of free will.”

  “But I’ve never had any urge to buy that soap you talked about, and I wouldn’t eat a Flaxibar if I was starving.”

  “That’s the thing,” Patrick said. “Because you’re an envoy, your implants are different. Envoys are, by design, immune. At least for now. Celia has halted production on future envoy implants. She intends for your class of participants to become obsolete.”

  “I haven’t heard about that.”

  “You wouldn’t have. No one, beyond Celia’s inner circle is aware of the order.”

  So that was the real reason for the shortage of envoys. And yet, her new partner, Jason, had been eating a Flaxibar when they picked him up. According to Patrick, he should be immune to suggestion. Kenna shook her head, not understanding.

  Patrick shifted Ryan’s weight. “We both know that Virtu-Tech owns proprietary rights to the most sophisticated VR technology, right?”

  Kenna nodded.

  “And people everywhere are addicted to VR.” He rolled his lips. “But, as you and I also know, these addicted folks sometimes get into trouble when they become mortally absorbed. Hence, these people need protection. Virtu-Tech doesn’t have a choice. If VR starts to get a bad rap—if people start getting injured or die during these supposedly ‘safe’ adventures—the government will step in and shut them down.

  “Virtu-Tech can’t afford that liability. And the only way to protect themselves is to hire people—like you, like Charlie—who are less susceptible to their subliminal suggestions.”

  Patrick stared out at the window. Kenna turned and saw them both reflected back in the dark glass.

  “Once this final initiative is executed, however, envoys will be phased out. As will the government as we know it,” he said softly. “In effect they’ll control everything.”

  Kenna didn’t know what to say.

  “Charlie’s knowledge of the system and his infiltration of the Virtu-Tech conglomerate was invaluable,” Patrick went on. “We’re still working to get our counterinitiative in place before it’s too late, but the company has begun to employ resources that we don’t have access to. They’re moving fast to close off all possible obstacles.”

  “What kind of resources?”

  “An interface device that allows us into their VR worlds—to navigate in and manipulate it—while remaining undetected.”

  “They say that’s not possible.”

  “Virtu-Tech has it—thanks to them duping Simon Huntington into cooperating. That’s how they trapped Charlie.”

  “That’s how they did it, then.” She and Vanessa were right. “They hacked into Charlie’s program?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s the plan to stop them?”

  “Four of our main operatives and I have been working on accessing Virtu-Tech’s global database from the Chicago location. I’ve placed a program in the system that has begun working in the background to access all subroutines. Once we execute the program, every bit of information Virtu-Tech controls will—theoretically—be corrupted and the company’s communication to consumers lost. But in order to effectively break the bond between the mother—Virtu-Tech—and the suckling infant”—he glanced again at his son with a wry smile—“we need to get in at the right time and execute the payload.”

  “What are you waiting for? If the program is in place, why not execute n
ow?”

  “The longer the program is allowed to work its way through the system collecting and infecting data, the better our chance of success when we let it loose. There’s no guarantee this will work, but it’s the best shot we have.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  Mallory knocked and peeked around the corner. “Want me to take him?” she asked.

  Patrick shook his head. “I’m fine,” he said in a soft voice.

  “Okay, then,” she said. She flashed them both a smile and turned away.

  “It’s enormous,” Patrick said, picking up the conversation.

  “Let me play devil’s advocate here for a minute, okay?” Kenna said. “I mean, I need to understand this. So what if people buy the wrong items for a couple of months while the final details of the—dissident, is it?—plan is worked out? Shouldn’t we wait to move until we’re confident we can succeed? Isn’t it better to get everything in place—to get all our ducks in a row—before we move?”

  Patrick smiled.

  “What?” she asked.

  “You used the words ‘we’ and ‘our,’” he said.

  She had said that, hadn’t she? Because Charlie died for this. And she was beginning to understand why. She met Patrick’s inquisitive look with a stare of resolve. “Yeah,” she said. “I did.”

  He gave an abbreviated nod. “Good.”

  She held up the index fingers of both hands, holding him off from further commentary until she had it all clear. “If I understand, you guys are going to basically destroy an entire industry? This is huge. Let me counter my last question: If it’s better to let the program work in the background, why not hold off until we’re sure it will succeed?”

  “Because very soon all our choices will be gone,” he said. “Celia Newell has nearly every piece in place. She intended to go live with the final phase of this initiative as soon as all areas rolled out the new 6.0s. A few weeks of brainwashing and the country will be under her spell, buying whatever she wants. Voting for whomever she wants.” The corners of his mouth drew downward. “VR users will have conceded all autonomy. Which is exactly the plan behind Sub Rosa.”