by J Boyd Long
When lunch was over and the dishes were cleaned, the four of them moved out to the small porch. Bob gathered the fishing poles, and began testing the line and the reels. Tocho began the conversation.
“Okay, we know what we’ve got in terms of supplies. We have food and weapons, so time isn’t a huge factor in terms of the necessities of survival. If we’re going to DimCorp, we need to know exactly what we’re going to do before we try to open the door.”
“Assuming that we can get there,” Bob added.
Quentin chuckled at Bob’s addendum. Their experience yesterday made everything an assumption at this point.
“What did you do last time?” Eissa asked.
“We built a bomb and set it off in the main computer room at DimCorp headquarters,” Tocho said. “We came through the door with the bomb, set it down at the wall where all the gate control wiring patched into the computer system, activated the thirty-second timer, and ran back through the door. We waited one minute, tested the door, and when it didn’t open up to anyplace, we took it apart and buried the pieces.”
“So, why don’t we just do that again?” Eissa asked. “It sounds simple enough.”
“Well, for one thing, it’s extremely unlikely to work twice,” Bob said, glancing up from the tackle box. “We have to assume that they’ve put measures in place that will keep that from being possible, or at least, from being easy.”
“Also, we don’t have the stuff to make another bomb,” Tocho added. “That was a pretty serious project. In the end, all it really did was pause things for a few years, anyway.”
“I’m sure they’ve gotten smarter,” Quentin said. “I doubt they have a single computer system that everything depends on. I’d have made several redundancies, if it was me.”
If he had to take down IBZ’s network, it would be pretty tough to do. Everything was on multiple redundant servers, and it was all backed up offsite so that no matter what happened, they would be able to keep going on with business as usual. DimCorp’s system was likely similar, if not even more robust.
“So, if we don’t have any way to blow up the building again, what do we do?” Eissa asked. “It’s not like we can charge in there with a couple of revolvers and just kill everyone.”
“Well, I don’t know,” Tocho said. “That’s what we’ve got to figure out.”
They sat in silence for a moment.
“We need another inside guy,” Bob said. “We don’t even have a way to get information, no way to find out what we’re up against here.”
“I don’t know how we’d manage that,” Tocho said. “It was a stroke of luck that we ended up with one the first time, and the way we met him isn’t really a method I want to try again.”
“For sure,” Bob agreed.
The mention of Rupert led Quentin to thinking about his own job. A lot of what he did was protect IBZ’s computers from outside attackers. No one was trying to blow them up, of course. Some of the attackers were trying to steal data, but most of them just wanted money or to disrupt business, and they accomplished that with ransomware.
“It seems to me that if we can’t physically destroy the system, the only way to do it is internally,” Quentin said. “We need to figure out how to give them a virus.”
They looked at him, absorbing what he said.
“I should have thought of that,” Eissa said. “Especially considering the fact that I’ve seen Independence Day about twenty times.” She quickly looked at Tocho. “That’s a movie, Tocho. Space aliens trying to take over Earth, very complicated. Don’t make me explain it to you.”
Tocho nodded, and winked at her.
“How would we do that?” Bob asked. “Can you create one?”
“Well, it depends on a lot of things,” Quentin said. “For starters, I have no idea how their computers work. My experience is with Linux and Windows operating systems. Is that something that’s only in our dimension, or is it the same everywhere? It would make sense that IBZ and DimCorp computers would be able to communicate, right?”
“I don’t even know what you just said,” Tocho said. He looked at Bob.
“I really don’t know the answer to that, either,” Bob said. “Can you figure that out by looking at the computer on our door?”
“Probably,” Quentin said. “Or, at least, I should be able to see if I can figure out how it works.”
“Let’s say it makes sense to you,” Bob said. “What would you do?”
Quentin took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It was easy to theorize about it, but actually infecting the system would be complicated. He’d never written a virus, and while he had removed a lot of them from IBZ’s system, it wasn’t the same thing. He’d have to really be on his A game to pull it off. “I’d sit down at a computer and write a self-replicating program that would find every copy of the DimGate control program in their computer system and infect it. It’s more complicated than that, but that’s it in a sentence.”
“Wouldn’t their anti-virus software just put it right into quarantine?” Eissa asked.
“Possibly,” Quentin admitted. “That all depends on how sophisticated their anti-virus is and if they’re familiar with stuff from our dimension or not. If nothing else, maybe we could use it as a distraction while we do something else.”
“Well, it’s a start,” Bob said. “Write that down on your list. Let’s say that you don’t recognize the computer stuff. How good are you at figuring things like that out on the fly?”
“He’s a wizard,” Eissa said.
Quentin’s face turned red, and he grinned. “Well, I wouldn’t classify myself as a wizard,” he said. “I’m pretty good at coding, but that’s all done on systems that I know and understand. If it’s a foreign operating system, I just don’t have any way of prognosticating my capabilities.”
Tocho and Bob looked at each other for a moment.
“Best case scenario,” Quentin continued, “I can hopefully write a ransomware program. I’ve never created one before, but I’ve recovered enough systems that have been hit with one that I can probably make it work. Once that’s got the system locked down, I would put in a second virus that basically causes the whole network to self-destruct.”
“What in the hell is a ransomware program?” Bob asked.
“It’s all the rage right now,” Eissa explained. “You get an email that looks like it’s legit, and then you click on a link in it, and it locks down your computer. You have to give the asshole hacker a ransom to get the key to unlock the computer. It’s driving everyone batshit crazy.”
“I understand the concept,” Tocho said. “There are several dimensions that I’ve been to that don’t even have computers anymore because that sort of thing made them all useless after a while. I guess that’s the probable end game for computers in every dimension, eventually.”
“Damn,” Eissa said. “We’ve joked about things getting to that point, but I didn’t really think it could actually happen.”
“I don’t want to corrupt your perspective on humans,” Tocho said, “but across the dimensions, there are always a few self-absorbed, greedy bastards. It’s just the way certain people are wired. Some people are natural leaders, most people are natural followers, and there are an unscrupulous few that don’t have a conscience about hurting others for their own gain. It’s a numbers game, really.”
“I guess it doesn’t take very many people to screw it up for everyone,” Quentin said.
“Right,” Tocho agreed.
“Let’s go a step further,” Bob said. “In order to do this, you would need to get to DimCorp headquarters and access their computers, right?”
“Right,” Quentin said. “At least, assuming that I can’t do all that on the computer in our door, which I probably can’t. I’ll have to check it out to be sure, but I would guess that it’s limited to the functions it has to perform.”
“So that creates a whole different set of problems,” Bob said. “We’ve got to figure out how to ge
t you to DimCorp, past security, with enough free time at a computer to do your thing, and then get you back through the door before your virus shuts down the system.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Eissa said sarcastically. “Like, what could go wrong?”
“Exactly,” Tocho muttered. “The better question is, what could go right?”
“That’s assuming we went with that plan,” Quentin said. “It was just an idea. We should probably keep brainstorming.” The realization that he might actually have to attempt to do all of the things he had just talked about sat on his stomach like a bucket of acid.
Silence descended over the group yet again as they tried to come up with a better plan. It stretched on, without any ideas being offered up. If the computer system was DimCorp’s key to the other dimensions, then their options were limited to shutting down the computer system. There just wasn’t any other way to do it.
Bob closed the lid of the tackle box and stood up, drawing the brainstorming session to a close. “Alright, let’s go fishing,” he said. “The best way to think this through is by doing something else, something productive.”
“Here, here,” Tocho said. “I like the way you think.”
They all climbed to their feet, stretching out stiff muscles and joints. Bob dispersed the fishing poles among them, and they set out towards the beach. Bob explained the system to them as they walked.
“We usually wade out into the surf,” he said. “It’s a really gradual slope for a ways, and then it drops off kind of all the sudden. You can catch some smaller stuff in the shallows sometimes, but if you’re hungry, it’s better to just go for the deep water right away.”
“How deep is the shallow part?” Eissa asked. She spun in a circle, holding an arm over her head like a ballet dancer. “I’m a foot shorter than everyone else, just to state the obvious.”
“Well, that all depends on where the tide is at,” Bob said. “If it was low tide, it’d be about a foot deep. Right now, we’re at high tide, so it’ll range all the way up to four or five feet out at the drop off. I’m not saying you have to stand next to the drop off either, just to be clear.”
“Okay,” Eissa said. “I can swim, but I don’t know if I can swim with a fishing pole.”
“You can’t manage a fishing pole in water up to your neck, anyway,” Bob said. “Waist deep is about as deep as you want to go. You need to be able to fight a fish when you catch one.”
“Yeah, that makes sense,” Eissa said. “I guess my lack of experience is showing again.”
“Oh yeah,” Bob said, stripping off his shirt and pants. “You don’t want to wear your clothes out there, since we have pretty limited clothes for you to change into. We have to be preservation-minded about everything.”
“We’re, uh, fishing naked?” Quentin asked.
“Don’t worry,” Tocho said with a wink, his clothes already in a pile at his feet. “Freshwater fish might be interested in your worm, but you won’t find many takers here.”
Quentin blushed furiously and busied himself untying his shoes. It was completely logical to be nude, but logic didn’t seem to be enough to override the discomfort he felt. If this was a ridiculous insecurity, then a deserted island in another dimension was probably the best possible place to get over it. He embraced that idea as he began undressing and was relieved to see that no one was making a big deal about it, not even Eissa, who had a comment for everything.
“I was in the army,” Eissa said. “You can’t embarrass me with this; I’ve done worse.”
Once everyone was stripped down, Bob pulled a tube of sunscreen out of the tackle box, squirted some in his hand, and passed it around.
“You’ll want this on the top half. You burn faster than you realize.”
“The water’s pretty warm,” Tocho said. “That will make it easier on the ego.”
Bob spread them out evenly across the beach, with himself on one end, and Tocho on the other. He checked the poles one last time, and showed them the technique for casting in water up to their waist.
“You want to try to go straight out in front of you,” he said. “That way you don’t end up getting your lines tangled up. If you catch something, give a shout. The rest of us will reel in so we don’t get tangled if your fish makes a run for it, and we’ll come over to help you out. All set?”
“All set,” Quentin said. He waded out slowly and made a few practice casts while he was in knee-deep water. Satisfied that he could do it, he cautiously eased out until the water was up to his waist. As Tocho had claimed, the water was warm, at least warm enough that he got used to it quickly. He cast his line out. It went farther right than it should have, but he decided it would do for his first try.
They fished for nearly an hour without any bites. Quentin didn’t mind the lack of fish. He found the whole experience to be immensely satisfying, at least once he got comfortable being naked in the water. The waves were gentle and rhythmic, and the breeze was steady. The feeling of vulnerability diminished gradually, morphing into a sort of self-accepting joy.
His thoughts drifted to the virus concept as he stared out into the distance. If they were in their own dimension, he would have been fairly confident in his ability to create a virus, assuming he was able to breach whatever security protocols that were in place. In that setting, he gave himself an eighty percent probability of success. Maybe seventy percent.
Going into a completely unknown system was a whole different scenario. He hated all of the unknowns in the situation. One or two unknowns could be dealt with, or planned around. Ten unknowns on a list of ten things was a nightmare, something to be avoided, and that wasn’t even taking into consideration the stress of potentially being discovered and shot at. He gave himself a ten percent chance of succeeding in that situation.
“Got one!” Eissa shouted, heaving her pole upright. Her large breasts swung wildly as she reared back. “I got a fish.”
Quentin froze for a moment as her pole bent over, the tip nearly touching the base. He knew he was supposed to do something, but he couldn’t shift mental gears fast enough to remember what.
“Reel in,” Bob yelled at him as he waded past. “Hurry up, get your line out of the water.”
Quentin jumped, remembering the instructions. He cranked his reel as fast as he could, but by the time he got the line in, Bob and Tocho were both over with Eissa, coaching her through the process of landing the fish. He waded over, and gathered their poles so they could focus on Eissa.
“Crank it slowly,” Tocho said. “At the same time, start slowly walking backwards towards the shore. We want to get him up here in the shallow water so he doesn’t have as much room to run.”
Quentin made it back to shore. He set the poles down in the sand, grabbed the pole net, and waded back out. The net had a small hole near the rim, and he hoped it was strong enough to hold a fish. The trio was about halfway to shore by then, and he stayed off to one side with the net, waiting. A great splash drew his attention, and he turned his head just in time to see a large fish crash back into the water.
“That’s a bonefish,” Tocho yelled in excitement. “Get that net ready. We’re going to eat good tonight.”
Quentin gripped the net tightly, his heart hammering. He was nervous in a way that he hadn’t experienced since he was a kid in school, standing in front of his classmates to give a speech.
“Tocho, I don’t know what I’m doing,” Quentin said. “You’re going to have to coach me through this.”
“I’ve got you,” Tocho said. “Take a deep breath or two.”
Bob continued talking Eissa through the process, and Tocho made his way towards Quentin, motioning him closer.
“Bring the net closer,” he called. “They’re going to try to get him up in the knee-deep area, but we’ve got to be ready to grab him. Once he gets in the shallows, it’s easier for him to get off the hook.”
Eissa and Bob continued to back towards the shore as the fish zigzagged back and forth
on the line. It was easily two feet long.
“Go easy,” Tocho said, nodding to Quentin. “Ease up on him, but keep the net out of the water until you get close.”
Quentin crept towards the fish; the net poised above the water. The line grew shorter, and the arc narrowed.
“Alright,” Tocho shouted. “Scoop him up.”
Quentin tightened his grip, and plunged the net into the water and swung it clumsily toward the fish from behind. The fish turned and shot straight into the net, almost tearing it out of Quentin’s terrified grip. He yanked up on the pole, hauling the flopping fish out of the water and into the sunlight. Tocho cheered in excitement, and Eissa immediately joined in with a catcall of her own.
“You got him,” Bob said. “Quick, get him up on the beach.”