Of Minds and Masters

by Paul Ormond

  “This kid is it? Really? This kid is the one that we’ve been looking for the whole time. Somehow, I just don’t believe it,” Robert said. The slow motion decent of Mitch’s body was now fully underway. His face was slowly turning from shock to horror as he appeared to realize what was about to happen.

  “We also agree that it seems unlikely that he is the culprit. I mean, look at him. That’s got to be the most embarrassing thing that could happen to anybody, right? I imagine his whole family watched this happen. Why would he go to great lengths to promote it? So yes, we are a little confused by that. It is possible that a third party is using the algorithm to influence the system, but why exactly, we’re not sure. We are certain that the source of the algorithm’s activity can be traced to local networks around the community of Kingsford, which also happens to be the subject of #epiccrotchshot’s home town,” Andrew said with conviction.

  The video had been slowed down to 1/50th of its actual speed and Mitch’s head had just made contact with the ice. His face was seen contorting as it made impact with the cold hard surface. His body began to crumple.

  “Who is this kid?” Robert asked while scratching his head.

  “His name is Mitch Mythic. Aside from the name, he is an ordinary teenager from the small community of Kingsford. Other than this unfortunate accident, which just happens to be really amusing, there is nothing particularly special about him, making the presence of the algorithm in this context somewhat puzzling,” Andrew said. “He has been a MindHIve user for a few years, but he mainly just posts selfies and watches fail videos like most teenagers. He is also an avid DeathWorld player.”

  “Are we missing something here?” Robert asked. “Why this video? What does it mean? Is there some kind of subversive message here? What is being said in the comments? Have we had the linguistic department examine the language? Are there any phrases that people are repeating? Look over everything. There must be something that we’re not seeing. Thank you for bringing this to my attention and thank you for all your hard work. Get back to the lab and make sure my prototypes are ready. The tech convention is only a few weeks away,” Robert ordered as he got out of his seat.

  “Yes sir,” Andrew said. The rest of the techs began to disassemble the equipment and file out of the room.

  “Gerald, what do you make of all this?” A tall man with a bald head rose from a chair in the corner and stalked across the boardroom towards Robert. Gerald Tobero was the head of MindHIve’s security and he was also a very adept consultant for Robert in these types of situations. He had come through big time during MIndHIve’s largest data breach a few years ago. It was Gerald’s hunch that the hack was coming from within MindHIve’s headquarters, which lead to the apprehension of O’dell Grimes, the leader of the hacktivist group known as “The Cell.” The group had placed operatives inside MindHIve in an attempt to free MindHIve’s encrypted data. Gerald Tobero had been the man responsible for interrogating employees and he was able to crack a junior engineer that had been lured in to The Cell’s network, leading to the downfall of The Cell and the arrest of O’dell Grimes. Gerald was a former military operative with experience in several theaters of war. He specialized in subversive militant online terrorism and he had held a top position at the Government’s intelligence agency before Robert lured him to MindHIve with the promise of a lucrative salary and bonuses galore.

  “It’s a puzzling situation, sir,” Gerald said. His voice was soft and low. “Although this child seems unlikely to be a terrorist, he may have been compromised in some way.”

  “Compromised? In what way?” Robert asked peevishly.

  “There are some aspects of the situation that I find a little too convenient. If the fugitive is in possession of such dangerous technology, why would he use it in this way? Furthermore, why would he be so reckless with the algorithm’s footprint? We are either dealing with someone who is very stupid or very smart. In this instance, I would choose the latter, due to the elegant use of the algorithm to sidestep our terms of service and our immense security measures. It seems highly irregular that such care would be taken to elude our protective measures only to allow the location of the implementing device to be revealed,” Gerald said slowly and surely.

  “Well, that’s a very astute analysis, but if this guy is so smart why would he do it?” Robert asked.

  “As peculiar as it may sound, it appears that you are being called out, so to speak,” Gerald said.

  “Called out? Like a challenge? You mean whoever the hell is behind all this is calling me out?” Robert asked, perplexed.

  “Precisely, sir. First, he shows you what he is capable of with something so benign and then he lets you know where he is. It appears that he is saying: ‘Here I am, Come and get me’,” Gerald said. “I’ve seen other terror groups act this way in the hopes that they will be engaged on their terms.

  “Well, if that’s the case, let’s go get this little jerk. Contact Homeland Security and we’ll haul this kid into a black site and waterboard it out of him,” Roberts said.

  “I think that approach would be a little heavy-handed and I think it is exactly what your culprit would want you to do. In my professional opinion, the entire situation feels like some kind of trap,” Gerald said sounding very much like a military professional.

  “That’s why I hired you Gerald. It’s this kind of thinking that keeps our company on track and gets you those bonuses I know you’re after. If this is a trap then how do we handle it?” Robert asked. There was nothing Robert loved more than intrigue and shadow play. It was really the only thing that got him going anymore.

  “Perhaps the best way to beat a trap is to lay a trap of our own,” Gerald said.

  “I’m listening,” Robert said.

  “In order to apprehend the fugitive you will need to draw them out into the open. To do so, you will need some type of bait. What is it that you believe the fugitive is after?” Gerald asked.

  “I happen to know that he wants to bring our system down from within. He’s an anarchist and a dangerous revolutionary,” Robert said.

  “Well, what better bait than access to MindHIve’s core network?” Gerald said. “If we were to allow the perpetrator to believe that they could breach our security system locally, then it’s possible that they could be enticed to step out of the shadows. We will need the fugitive to believe that we have fallen for their trap and open our doors to them. Once they have revealed themselves, we’ll be able to apprehend the subject easily. I’ve ran several operations similar to this before.”

  “You want to give him access to our system. Are you kidding me? Who knows what kind of damage he could do before we get hold of him?” Robert said.

  “We don’t give him any access. We just need him to think that he can get access at a certain place. If we set up an outpost in a region where we believe he wants us to apprehend him, and reveal our phony access point to him, we may be able to lure him out and catch him red-handed,” Gerald said casually.

  “The tech convention!” Robert shouted out. “It’s perfect. We’ll invite this stupid kid to the tech disrupt. If he’s a patsy, as you say he is, whoever is setting him up will surely come along for the ride. The tech convention is a testing ground for our new tech anyway. It’s the perfect situation. We’ll be able to monitor everything this ‘Mitch Mythic’ does and we’ll make it seem like the system is accessible from the inside. If things are as you say they are, our fugitive will certainly show himself. This little butthole town - what’s it called again?”

  “Kingsford sir,” Gerald replied.

  “Yes, Kingsford. A small town like this is the perfect testing ground for our new tech. A remote location with a small population is actually an ideal setting for inReal’s first contact with a live population. We’ve already begun to link the satellite system, so honing in on any location will not be a problem,” Robert said, as a dangerous glow lit up his eyes. “Allan, get in here,” he shouted. Allan, who was waiting patiently outsid
e, bolted in at the sound of his name and approached Robert like an obedient puppy.

  “What can I do for you, sir?” Allan asked.

  “Get the board of directors on the phone. We’ve got a change of plans. I’ll need to schedule some TV appearances and you’d better tell Tracy in Logistics to pack her bags. This year, the MindHIve tech convention will be in a remote location,” Robert said instructively.

  “What do you mean, sir?” Allan asked.

  “Allan, we’re going to Kingsford,” Robert said.

  “Where is Kingsford?” Allan asked again.

  “I have no idea, Allan. I hire people like you to figure out things like this for me. Now get the board on the phone. We’ve got to make a massive pivot and I need to move quickly,” He said.

  “Right away, sir,” Allan said and he scuttled to the exit.

  “Gerald, I leave it in your hands to make all the necessary arrangements. Your team will have all the access it needs to see this through. Keep me updated regularly. I’ll ensure that all goes well with the board.”

  “Of course, sir,” Gerald replied. “I’m certain that we’ll be able to apprehend our man using this technique. I’ve seen it used in the field before. In fact it was this tactic that allowed me to capture Alhaim al Habib in Afghanistan…”

  “That sounds great Gerald, but I don’t have any time for war stories at the moment. You can regale me with your exploits another time. Right now I only care about results,” Robert said, cutting off Gerald in mid-sentence.

  “Understood sir. I won’t disappoint you,” Gerald said.

  “Only if you don’t want that beach house I’m dangling out in front of you,” Robert said. “Now get out of here. I’ve got to convince the board to allow us to move the tech convention. It should be easy though. Those boobs let me do anything,”

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Chapman,” several voices chimed in. On the big screen behind him were several faces looking at Robert using MindHIve’s video group chat.

  “Ah, the members of the board,” Robert said off-guard. “I was just discussing some security concerns with Mr. Tobero. Allan was supposed to let me KNOW when everything was ready, but he seems to have forgotten his protocols. I will have to deal with him later,” Robert said while glaring at Allan who stood in the doorway staring at his shoes.

  “Thank you, Mr. Tobero. Everything we discussed is fully confidential,” Robert said with a smile. Gerald nodded and made his way to the exit.

  Robert returned to video screen. “And now board members, let me tell you of what I have planned next. Who here has heard of a small town called Kingsford?” Robert asked while grinning from ear to ear.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Mitch’s head jerked up as he snapped out of sleep. Sunlight streamed through his bed room window, lighting up the room. Mitch had slept deeply, but his dreams had been lucid and terrifying. He could recall flashes of conversations and messages displayed on smartphones. He had been pursued by federal agents and he awoke thinking that he was a fugitive from the law. He checked his surroundings and sighed a breath of relief. At least I’m not going to jail, he thought to himself. Well, not yet anyway.

  He slowly rolled over and placed his feet on the floor. His digital alarm clock, which he had received years ago as a Christmas present, sat dustily on his dilapidated dresser. No alarm had gone off but the clock said 8:07. He wasn’t even late. Despite all that had happened, he felt surprisingly refreshed. He put on his jeans and a clean t-shirt and went upstairs to the kitchen. The house was empty. It looked like everybody had gone without him. A note was left on a pink stationary pad in the middle of the round kitchen table. It read: “Had to leave early to take Toby to the clinic. We’ll see you tonight. Team meeting at the arena at 7:00 pm. Mom & Dad.” The note was in his mother’s hand writing. Mitch groaned deeply and his fresh feeling had all but disappeared. He knew there was no escaping any of it, but he dreaded everything that awaited him that day. He was terrified to open up his MindHIve account and he wasn’t sure if he could face everybody at school after all that had happened both online and in real life. He knew he had to confront Drak, but he didn’t know what he could possibly say or do. Mitch was convinced that the guy was nuts. On top of all of that, he had to go out and apologize to everybody on the team and their families. There was no way that the day could get any worse.

  The whole meeting felt like something his mother had planned. She had no doubt been texting every single parent she knew, defending her family’s character. The reputation of her family trumped his welfare every time, or so it seemed to Mitch. There was no way out of it. He would have to stand up in front of everyone tonight and say he was sorry. The truth was, he wasn’t sorry at all. He was angry and he didn’t feel like he deserved to be treated this way. Mitch never wanted to be captain. It was his father’s idea. He would have much rather just been a normal player and Sage had been nothing but a jerk to Mitch all season because of it. He thought Mitch was being favored over other players because his dad was Mike Mythic. It was hard enough being the son of a great player, but to have everybody turn against him because of it was unbearable. Mitch had played well all season. He was the leading scorer on the team and he loved to play hockey with his friends. Why was everybody treating him this way? He was the one that they should all be apologizing to.

  He ate a bowl of cereal. His phone sat in the pouch pocket of his hoodie. His finger kept fiddling with it. He had habitually grabbed it a few times while he ate and he caught himself before he looked at the screen. He couldn’t bring himself to open up it up. He wasn’t sure what he was afraid of. He just didn’t want to know what had happened since he last logged in. He was sure that his account had been shut down. Either that or he had been blocked for violating some kind of service agreement. He had probably been placed on a list and was being analyzed alongside Drak for some counter-terrorism initiative. It was really only a matter of time before a black van pulled up in front of his house and hauled him off to a remote location in the mountains to be waterboarded repeatedly.

  He finally just grabbed the phone and opened it up. Across the home screen were several red banners signaling notifications. He opened up his MindHIve account and his jaw dropped. He had gone from just over a thousand connects to over one-hundred thousand in one night. It was unbelievable. His account had uploaded a video sometime in the night and it was a dub tech remix of him saying “I am Mitch Mythic and I am #epiccrotchshot boy” mixed in with shots of him flying over the net. The video had hundreds of thousands of views. The newsfeed said that his account had posted the video. He knew that Drak had everything to do with it, but he couldn’t figure out how he had done all of this in one night. He didn’t have much time to ponder it though. He looked over at the clock and saw that it was now 8:35. He had to get to school. Mr. O’Hare would be waiting for him. He didn’t want to get into any more trouble than he already was. He threw the bowl into the sink and headed to the door. He grabbed his backpack and shuffled his feet into his shoes.

  It was a fifteen-minute walk to school. Mitch took the shortcut back through the greenbelt where he had been confronted by Sage and all of his former friends. He could see the scuffle marks on the ground where Drak had a tossed everybody on their backs before he and Mitch had fled. He shook his head in amazement at what had transpired in the last twenty-four hours. He didn’t pause long in the park because he knew full well that Mr. O’Hare expected him to arrive on time to serve out his in-school suspension. He looked at his phone to check the time and saw that it was already 8:50. He picked up his pace to a jog and made it to school by 8:57 - just in time.

  Sure enough Mr. O’Hare was waiting for Mitch at the main entrance of Kingsford High. He wore a short-sleeved, white button-down shirt and a blue tie. Sweat stains had already started to form under his armpits in the May heat. “Good Morning, Mr. Mythic,” He said. “Prompt as usual. let’s see you keep it up. I wouldn’t want to add any more time to your in-school suspension. You’ll atten
d your morning classes and then report to the computer lab for lunch break. And the same follows for the afternoon. Go to class and then head to the lab until 5pm. Understood?”

  “Got it sir,” Mitch said through a fake smile.

  “You’d better hurry up. You’re gonna be late for class. We’ll see you at lunchtime,” Mr. O’Hare said while Mitch walked past.

  As Mitch made his way through the halls of the school, he felt strange. It didn’t seem like anybody was snickering at him behind his back and he didn’t hear anybody shout anything as he went by. The morning went smoothly enough and he almost felt relaxed after his first two classes went by without incident. Mitch’s third period class was Social Studies and it was taught by Ms. Pitchford. She was young enough that the system hadn’t beaten her down and she really tried to apply all she had learned at the teaching academy she had recently graduated from. In her class, students were expected to debate and she tried her best to incorporate social media into her lessons as much as possible.

  That morning, Ms. Pitchford wore a maroon polo shirt tucked into her beige khaki pants. Her hair was pulled into a neat bun at the back of her head. Although she was a new teacher, she was also tough as nails and she didn’t take any guff from the unruly high school students that had to attend her class. Mitch was a minute late getting to the class and Ms. Pitchford let him know it as he slipped into his seat. “Glad to see you decided to join us this morning, Mr. Mythic,” she said as Mitch sat down in his chair. Mitch made a guilty face and opened up his book bag and retrieved his binder.