by Needles, Dan
“Did they say which node had the problem?”
“No, that would be too useful.”
Scott reverted to his own first law of troubleshooting. “What changed?”
“Nothing, boss.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yep, I checked all the orders and change requests. Nothing was scheduled this weekend. It’s a blackout period.” Wayne said.
“What about the audit system? Has anything moved?” Scott referred to the CoolAlerts System. It kept track of the health and physical location of all the equipment.
CoolAlerts periodically polled each system’s internal GPS chip. This chip pinpointed the equipment’s exact location. They no longer flew around the country every six months, auditing the network. If the equipment “grew legs” and walked away, they would see it on the console screens. Theft was a non-issue. With CoolAlerts, the two of them could manage the entire national network.
Wayne scanned the CoolAlerts’ map. He shook his head. “Boss, everything is green. Nothing has moved.”
“So it’s the real thing? We’ve got a bona fide problem then?” Scott said.
“Sure looks like it. Mark your calendar. We’re finally going to earn our money today.”
“Computer, display the expanded CoolAlerts Internet map.”
The room disappeared, replaced by a large topographical map of the United States, marred by intersecting lines of light. They levitated a hundred feet above it. Scott took it in at a glance.
Littered across the map at the intersecting lines of light were hundreds of large glass domes, representing Internet hubs across the country. They were all green.
Strung between the hubs, rays of light represented communication links. Each link, like the site’s color, fluctuated between green, yellow, and red. Most of the lines glowed neon green, indicating nominal traffic levels. Between Tampa and Orlando, the link shifted periodically into yellow and then back to green. Scott already knew about that problem. The link was congested and suffered sporadic sluggishness. He saw no red lines. Everything was up and running.
“Another false alarm?” Wayne asked.
“Perhaps; but we can’t be sure. This is a new version of the CoolAlerts software. It might have missed something.” Scott thought for a moment. “Pull up a history map. Maybe it’s an intermittent problem.”
“What’s the matter, you crippled, boss?” Wayne said.
“Byte me, Wayne.”
Wayne laughed. “Computer, display the last two hours of map history and play it at sixty times normal speed.”
The map blinked out for an instant and reappeared. Above the state of Washington, a clock displayed Pacific Standard Time. It ticked away the minutes.
“Do you see anything, boss?”
“Shh!” Scott said, watching the map intently. He did not dare blink. He could miss it, but he saw nothing. Only the connection between Tampa and Orlando changed, the green and yellow creating a strobe effect. Something flickered near Los Angeles.
“Wait!”
“What did you see?” Wayne asked.
“I don’t know. Something in Southern Cal. Computer, back up one hour and replay.”
They watched the LA-San Diego region intently.
“What was that, boss?” Wayne asked.
Scott shook his head. The dome representing Ventura simply disappeared. That could not happen. If the site lost its communication link, it would simply turn red. It would never take the site out completely. How else could you see if something was wrong?
“Probably a software bug. Like you said, the software is new.”
“Computer, pull up the production map,” Scott said.
The map flickered out and came back. Ventura was still missing.
“Where is the bloody thing?” Scott asked.
Wayne rubbed his neck. “Well, if there’s a problem in Ventura, we definitely aren’t going to see it.”
“Call the response center. Get some names. Find out who complained about the problem. Tell ’em not to screw up this time, and get the goddamn name of the router. We’re flying blind here. I’m going to step in for a closer look.”
“You’re pulling rank again? Come on! Let me play for once,” Wayne said.
“Do you want to switch titles? Fill out all the reports, attend meetings …”
Wayne shook his head. “Alright, alright. I’m going.” He opened a portal and floated through.
“Computer, place me on the Ventura site.”
“I’m sorry, but no site with that name exists.”
“Bloody hell! Okay, you stupid computer, place me on Thousand Oaks then.”
Scott slowly drifted down and landed a couple of yards away from where the Ventura dome had been. He walked to the spot.
“Computer, was there a site where I’m standing right now?”
“Yes.”
“What is its name?”
“The entry in the database is corrupted.”
“Computer, can you open a portal to the site?”
“Yes.” A portal opened and Scott stepped through.
He appeared in an empty, white room. The disembodied voice of the Ventura Site’s security program chimed in. “You’re entering a secure site. Unauthorized access is prohibited. Please indicate your name and password. This information will be recorded.”
“Scott Harken, Network God.”
“Welcome, Scott. You’re using monitor one of one.” The room dissolved into the network control room in Ventura. Through the remote sensors of the robot, a steady hum of electronics and flashing of lights greeted him. He surveyed row after row of equipment. In front of one of the isles, a couple of floor panels had been removed and set aside, revealing a tangle of wires below the raised floor.
“Bloody hell, Wayne,” Scott muttered, replacing the floor tiles. Only they had access into this room, and he sure as hell didn’t leave the tiles like that.
He walked down the first row of equipment, scanning the racks, checking for status lights. Everything was green—no reds or yellows anywhere. Maybe one of the LCDs burned out. He walked down the isle again, checking for the obvious: powered off machines, open ports, or disconnected cables. Again, he found nothing.
Maybe it was not a hardware problem. Perhaps it was logical. What if more than the Ventura site was missing? If the whole map was corrupted, the problem might have propagated to the network software that routed the traffic.
“Computer, please run diagnostics on the OSPF and BGP software health for each router.”
“I’m sorry. I cannot comply with your request.”
“Computer, activate privileged access mode.”
“Please confirm your password.”
“Network God. Computer, change perspective to Ventura Site.”
The room transformed again. Spheres like dim stars appeared around him. Each sphere was labeled, representing a piece of equipment. Green laser-like rays of light connected them together, weaving a complex lattice. From this matrix, stray light rays lanced out to distant constellations of spheres, appearing like galaxies. These represented the other sites.
One of the stars near him, labeled Ventura Border Router Number Eight, grew. The stars surrounding it drifted closer, caught in its gravity well.
Now that’s odd. “Computer, change perspective to Ventura Border Router Number Eight.”
The scene changed. A different set of stars, this time representing programs, materialized. They similarly communicated on rays of light. The distant galaxies now represented other nodes at the Ventura site.
The stars drifted toward a single point. The force dragged Scott as well.
What in the bloody hell is going on? The map was not supposed to move! Wayne must be messing with it; but he knows better than that. I’m still inside!
The gravity well grew stronger. The stars swirled around the well, taking Scott with them, spiraling down.
“Computer, expand my perspective up one level.”
Nothing happen
ed.
“Computer, change my perspective to the Ventura site.”
Again, nothing. The swirl turned into a vortex.
“Computer …”
The stars collapsed to a single point, and then sucked him in.
Scott landed hard on the sand. Someone dropped on top of him. He shoved them off and rolled to his feet. Looking around he did not recognize the beach or the woman kneeling before him.
Cloaked in a scarlet robe, she stood slowly. She studied him with bright, green eyes.
“Bloody hell! What kind of hacker are you?”
“The worst kind,” she said, slipping the robe off her shoulders and letting it drop to the ground. She was naked underneath.
“That may work with the younger …”
She jumped aside.
What the bloody hell? He was unaware that Vinnie Russo had just fired a shot at her.
Steve turned to Vinnie. “Can he see us?”
“Don’t know!”
Syzygy stared directly at Vinnie.
“Shit!” Steve dove aside, away from Vinnie, and fired at Syzygy. Syzygy pulled back, dodging Steve’s shot. He lunged toward Vinnie. Vinnie jumped aside but not quickly enough. Syzygy liquefied and raced across the sand, washing over Vinnie like a wave, enveloping him. It quickly solidified into a fleshy cocoon.
“Damn it!” Steve fired. Syzygy pulled back and the shot hit Vinnie.
“Shit!” Steve swore. “Charlie, reset Vinnie’s connection.” It kicked him off the Internet. Steve was alone.
Syzygy stepped forward.
Steve pulled the trigger.
Syzygy sidestepped and lunged, enveloping him. The fleshy muscle constricted around Steve and knocked the wind out of him. He gasped. A tentacle slipped into his mouth and slithered down his throat. He fought the pain and panic as it tore at his lungs. “This isn’t real,” he said.
Syzygy retracted.
Steve dropped to the sand, kicked, and rolled to his feet. He fired but Syzygy was already frozen.
“Got ’em!” Vinnie yelled, stepping out from behind Syzygy.
“How’d you get back in?”
“I used the Portal Sphere.” Vinnie placed a hand on his shoulder. “And I even hit the right target.”
Steve dropped to the sand, catching his breath. He looked across the ocean. Waves crashed on the beach, spraying a thin mist into the air while sea gulls skimmed the surf, looking for crabs and fish. It was so peaceful, caught in a perpetual twilight, seconds before the sun dipped below the horizon, the sky flushed to a permanent red while a soft breeze blew from the east. The air felt warm and soothing. It was hard to believe that so many had died here. It was harder to believe it was all over.
Steve imagined Syzygy convulsing back in reality. The thought only filled him with a sense of loss. He would give anything to have Brooke back.
A red light flashed in Steve’s peripheral vision. He glanced at the time. The Nexus Healer announcement was in an hour. He needed to get ready.
46
Allison approached the front desk in the lobby of Nexus Corporation using Brooke’s Portal Sphere’s headset and gloves. She felt edgy. Even if Ron was not Syzygy, Syzygy was here and might have other attacks. She gave a reassuring pat to her copy of the phaser resting inside a virtual pocket.
“May I help you?” Jan said.
“I need to speak to Mr. Fisher.”
“Good morning!” a voice said next to her.
She turned and Ron came into view. “You’re going to have to come with me, Mr. Fisher.”
He smirked. “Really, why?”
“Assault.”
“Assault?” He appeared more amused than shocked.
Guilty as hell. “Can you explain why someone named Syzygy is logged on here?”
“What? I’m afraid that isn’t true. Jan, can you give Ms. Hwang a list of people currently logged on this site?”
Allison shook her head. “That won’t be necessary. I’ve already checked. He’s not listed.”
“I see. Here but not here.”
“This isn’t a game. He attacked me. Now, if you will please come with me.”
“He attacked you here?”
“That’s what I said.”
“Then I’m afraid I can’t go with you.”
“Either you voluntarily come with me now for questioning or we’ll physically detain you.”
“I’m sorry, but you see, this server is physically located in the Netherlands and according to International law you’re first going to have to extradite me to the United States.”
“That’s bullshit! You’re an American Citizen. The server might be in the Netherlands but you’re logged on somewhere in the United States.”
“Let me explain it to you. The crime you’re investigating was committed on this machine. This machine is located in the Netherlands. Thus, the crime occurred there. They get first dibs. That’s the law. It’s not my fault you didn’t do your homework.” Ron walked away.
Her mind raced. What could she do? Steve’s weapon! He had modified it from the Sensory Isolator, which could isolate a user’s VR experience to a particular perspective, to a single sense like sight or scent.
“Computer, pull up the phaser.”
It appeared before her.
“Computer, can you revert the phaser back to its original state?”
“Yes.”
“Computer, please do so.”
The device transformed into a Sensory Isolator before her eyes.
“Computer, how do I set up this device to isolate a sense?”
“Simply state the sense you want to isolate.”
“Can I set it to turn off all sensory inputs?”
“Yes.”
“Computer, do so.”
“Command accepted.”
“Computer, place me in front of Ron Fisher.”
She materialized a few feet in front of him. He frowned. “What is it now?”
“All right you win. Can we talk, somewhere private?” Allison asked.
“Do I need my lawyer?”
“No. I’m offering a truce.”
“Really? Why?”
“Not here. Is there somewhere we can go?”
He smiled and regarded her for several seconds. Finally, he cocked his head and turned toward his office.
“Computer, have me follow Ron.”
They went across the lobby, down a hall and into a back office. Ron sat down behind the desk. “This is a secure room. You can talk freely in here. Now what do you have in mind?”
“This!” She pulled out the weapon and fired.
“What the hell?” He mumbled incoherently, stumbling around, bumping repetitively against the desk and chair until he fell over. She knocked over a virtual bookcase to box him in.
Allison smiled. He could no longer see, hear, feel, smell, or taste anything. She had created the world’s first VR-based sensory-deprivation weapon. Her days with the DIA taught her that sensory deprivation could break someone in a matter of hours, even someone like Mr. Fisher. She would let him sweat it for a while.
What happened? Ron thought. He sensed nothing—black, quiet, and still. Was he dead? No, that bitch had done something to him, somehow cut him off. Why? He knew the answer immediately. She wanted him to talk.
He fought down a stab of panic. What could he do? He had been in sensory deprivation tanks before, but this was different. It was not like the tanks. In the tanks you could not feel your body, but you still had your pulse, breathing, and maybe some ringing in your ears. With those, Ron would be able to get by for hours, perhaps even a day, without hallucinating, but in here, even these were gone.
Not only did he not feel his body, he could not even locate it. Conscience and void was everything. He was powerless.
Time passed, but he could not tell how long. It might have been only minutes or perhaps hours. He found his mind meandering through the events that brought him here. He regretted some of his choices. Could things have g
one differently with Camille and Brooke?
Ron caught himself. He needed to control his thoughts. He could not let his mind wander. The bitch wanted him to do that—slip up and lose touch. He counted to focus his mind back on itself. One, two, three …. He counted up to one hundred, a thousand, then ten thousand. Something changed.
His mind felt a thing he could not identify, a sensation. Waves of relaxation flowed through him. Oh, god! He had lost count. Was it ten thousand? Maybe he would start over, but why was he counting? He could not remember.
A fog penetrated his thoughts, separating them. Like a calving iceberg, he felt his mind fragment. He watched as shards of thought drifted away into the blackness. They were distinct, not a part of himself. With each piece that disappeared, he forgot more and more. He relaxed, became more subdued. The whole experience felt strange. Thoughts became images.
An undertone began vibrating, a sensation of pure thought. It grew louder in his mind. It formed an alien hunger. The hunger took hold of him. He needed to sense something, anything; but nothing was there. How did he get here? Where was he? Ron could not remember. Panic ate away at him.
His eyes returned and he saw black. The black gradually opened up into a three-dimensional, empty, pitch-black space. Forms appeared, glowing lights. They swirled and formed a tunnel. The tunnel emitted an apocalyptic blue light. His hearing returned and he heard the welcomed sound of running water. His body returned and he found himself floating into the tunnel. The tunnel opened up. He rolled on the ground. He was back on Hainan.
The war had ended; they were going home. Ron glanced over at Steve.