by Fox J Wilde
“No.” Lena replied sheepishly. Yet the mention of the other agents hit a nerve with Vivika the way that the pen had with Lena—especially the mention of Red-hat, whom Vivika had a special relationship with.
“So that’s the bastard that keeps following me!” Vivika shouted.
“Oh, he’s following you?” Lena offered, “As in, like, training you?”
“No. As in he’s following-following me. Which is a really difficult thing to manage, because he can legally follow me anywhere and arrest me anytime he wants. So, I have to be really careful and make sure I don’t piss him off, or let him know that I know he’s following me.”
“That’s what Mr. Collins told me to do, too!” Lena gasped.
“Yeah, this stuff works.” Vivika said with authority. “It’s like this, Lena…if the State wants to arrest you, it will. If the State hasn’t, it’s trying to find a reason to—which it really doesn’t need, because the State can just make up a reason. So, if you are being followed, you have to do what you can do to lose the heat, so to speak. Bore them, and make them less interested in following you.
“The State will never be less-interested in following you, of course, but it isn’t ‘The State’ that’s following you—it’s their little crony dipshits doing it. And they would much rather be doing anything else. If those cronies know that they aren’t going to get a reward for ‘catching you in the act’, and you haven’t pissed them off enough for them to lie, they will just chock it up to ‘making easy money following some dumbass around.’ Most people would much rather do nothing for a living; but at the end of the day, if you have to work, it’s much better to do very little than to do a lot. That’s how most of these people feel. The easier the money you are for them, the more they will sympathize with you—so to speak.
“You can also throw them a bone or two, by dropping a piece of paper at, say, a money-machine or something. They will have to walk over and take that piece of paper. If you put something on that paper that is worth reporting, but won’t dime you out in any way—like, a love note to a fake secret lover—they will have accomplished something that day and might leave you alone. It’s also a way to confirm who’s following you and control future interactions. Hell, I’ve even heard that leaving personal information (like ‘Dear Diary’ letters) or bribes (accidentally forgetting money) can humanize you further to them.”
“But what if you do have to lose them?” Lena asked.
“That’s called ‘Breaking the Box’. The easiest way is to get on a bus, and then get right off, or just ride the bus for a few hours. They’ll eventually have to get off. That’s a choke point: where you force them to take a one-way direction. Sort of like standing at a cross-walk and not hitting the button, walking across a bicycle bridge, or sitting at a bus stop and not taking the bus. They have to hit the button, or go a separate direction. They have to continue across the bridge, or go a separate direction. The have to get on the bus, or go somewhere else. Otherwise they’ll be found out.
“If you need to lose them faster than that, you can use a force- past. That’s where you walk inside of a building, and wait on the other side of the door. Once they enter, they have to continue on, and you just walk right out…you forced them to pass you.”
“Yeah, but I mean, what if they are chasing you?” Lena asked fearfully. “Like, they are fully intent on arresting you?”
“Well, if you can, you have to figure out if they are willing to take you in broad daylight, or if they are wanting to take you in private. If it’s in private, then you just have to lose them in public and get to a safe house. That’s pretty easy…you just lose them in a crowd of people. Reversing direction is the golden ticket.
“But if they are willing to take you in public, you have to lose them immediately. It’s hard to do, but the best way is to just stop running altogether. People who run leave trails in their wake—splits in the crowd where they ran through, onlookers gawking in the direction you ran—the best thing to do is to stop running, change your hat or jacket, and blend into the crowd. If you do it right, no one will suspect a thing. If you do change your outfit, though, try and change your backpack and shoes—those are the hardest things to change, so no one ever does.
“You can also just hide. Just hide anywhere in public, really—behind a staircase, in a garbage can or whatnot. Police don’t have the time to search every nook and cranny when they think you are running.”
“That works?” Lena asked.
“So far it has,” Vivika said dourly. “Then again, they haven’t come for me yet, so I don’t know for sure.”
“Are you afraid that they might?”
“Honestly,” Vivika sighed, “I’m worried about the both of us now. You and I both know too much at this point…there’s no way we’re getting across the wall unless your grandfather wants us to. And if he wants us dead, there’s nothing saving us.”
“He wouldn’t do that!” Lena said. “Grandfather is a good man! Trust me: he’s looking out for us.”
“That’s what he wants you to think.” Vivika said knowingly. “But you know how these people are. They have no loyalty to either one of us. The second we stop being useful, we’ll die screaming in a black cell.”
“No, you don’t understand!” Lena said excitedly. “Yes, all of the others are like that. But Grandfather…he’s different. He does his job, but he does it in, you know, a certain way. He has had plenty of reasons and opportunities to not look out for me, but he always has. He cares for me, and I know he cares for you too.”
“Why would he? Why would he care for me? He’s just an HVA case officer. He has no reason to look out for me.”
“I beg to differ. He has every reason.”
“Name one?” Vivika said, with a distrustful tone.
“Let me tell you something. Grandfather knows how to do his job and not hurt people in the process. He looks out for young people, and he especially looks out for women. I know him. He believes in socialism, but only because he believes in community. He works for the HVA because he feels that it’s the best way for him to strengthen that community—next to directly protecting its members, that is. He may not know you personally, but you are a ‘young person’. To him, that’s enough of a reason to look out for you.
“I also know this because Grandfather likes punk rock more than you and I ever will. He knows the music and he knows the stories. But more importantly, he ‘gets’ the message. Grandfather stands for something, and that something includes you and I—if for no other reason than we’re punks just like him.”
“You really think we’re going to make it out of this alive?” Vivika asked.
“I don’t know.” Lena answered honestly. “But I know this for sure: if we die, it won’t be because of our Grandfather. And if we do die, at least we’ll die together, not having any secrets between us.”
“I am so sorry, Mister Collins,” Matt York said. “I am so sorry I’ve put you in this position.”
The audio recording blared out of the small handheld speaker and the sounds it was making were reprehensible. The snarling voice of Patrick cut through with terrible insults aimed at a female voice begging for mercy. “You’re hurting me!” The voice screamed so piteously, “Please Patrick, stop!!!” Matt wanted to hunt him down. He wanted to hunt down the repulsive wretch and slit his throat wide open.
Mr. Collins didn’t respond. He simply sat in the booth listening and staring out of the side of the bus. He was furious, and he had a right to be. Things weren’t going as planned, and it was all Matt’s fault. Worse, he knew the onus of fixing it would have to be on his case officer. This wasn’t something that Matt was capable of working out or even helping with. He was too close, and had acted too rashly, keeping his continued involvement with her a secret. Patrick had something over him now; something that he would have never known about if Matt had just left well enough alone.
“I told you to stay away from her.” Mr. Collins said, matter-of-factly. “You realize now why I told you to?”
“Yes, Mister Collins. I realize that.”
“I don’t think you do, Matt. This is the reason I split you two up…and the reason why we have the policies we do.”
“Yes, Mister Collins.”
“Good god, Matt! This is why banks have these rules! This is why corporations, hospitals, schools, even gas stations and movie theaters have them. I expect better of one of my agents, and I expected better of you.”
“Yes, Mister Collins.” Matt said, sadly. “I understand how poor my behavior was, and you are right to not trust me any further with this.”
“Well, that’s the unfortunate problem, Matt. I have to, because I don’t have any rapport with either Analog or Patrick…which is only slightly better than the terrible rapport you have. You know I don’t trust him enough to meet with him, and you know we can’t protect her from over here.”
“Then why not bring her over here, and use her as leverage?” Matt said honestly.
“How can you honestly suggest that?” Mr. Collins replied, evenly. He was irritated, but he kept his tone. “How can you honestly suggest that we risk Grips by bringing her over? And for what? What does it gain us?”
“Because then Patrick won’t be able to control the board.”
“He doesn’t control anything, Matt! He’s nothing but a liability to his own agency. If anything, he’s the greatest thing to ever happen to this project! The boy is such a loose cannon, we may as well pay him to stay in the HVA. But the fact remains, Matt, Analog isn’t worth anything to us on this side of the Wall. That, and I don’t care about leveraging anything against some idiotic rival agent. He doesn’t have the access. He isn’t worth a damn thing, and I’d just as soon be rid of him as soon as it’s useful to do so.”
“And her?” Matt asked. He knew it wasn’t his place to barter for her. To be honest, it probably lowered him even further in Mr. Collin’s eyes. But still he asked it. He cared for her; really, he did. And she was worth something to the project, even if it was just as a measly bartering chip. Not only was Matt willing to put himself in the line of fire for her, he was willing to sacrifice his position if need be.
“Maaa-aa-aaaatt!” Mr. Collins flailed his hands above his head and made an irritated sound that almost reeked of whining, “Why are you so stuck on this? I know you like her. She’s a bright girl, and pretty. If the stakes weren’t so high, sure, I’d entertain it. But we are caught up in a much bigger world here. It’s a world where millions of people hang in the balance—millions of people who have irritating little crushes on other people just like you. She’s worth more to us where she is. Here, she’s just another mouth to feed. Why should I put your personal desires over the needs of millions?”
“Because…” Matt thought, “…because I feel I owe her.”
“Well, you do. So what?”
“I…” Matt thought about it for a second. He knew that his romantic feelings didn’t amount to much, but dammit, they had to amount to something, didn’t they? ...didn’t they?
“Look, Matt.” Mr. Collins must have felt sorry for him because he changed his tone slightly, “I’m not going to beat you over the head with this. You acted. It was stupid, but you acted. So now here we are, and this is the game we are playing now. So, let’s figure out a way to make this happen.”
“Alright, what do we do?” Matt said, grateful to still be included in the process.
“Let me tell you a story. You know I went to West Point, right?”
“I did, yes.”
“Did I ever tell you what I studied?”
“No, honestly…I don’t think I’ve ever heard.”
“Military science was my degree, but what I really went there to study was Game Theory. Even to this day, it’s my third greatest passion, right behind chess and handling punk-asses like you.”
“You were a Grandmaster, weren’t you?”
“Close. Too much publicity…I would have never been able to do this if I did that. But I certainly could have been, if my interests didn’t lie elsewhere. In any case, have you ever studied the Prisoner’s Dilemma?”
“That’s the one where the one convict decides to dime out his partner for a lesser sentence in the hopes that his partner-in-crime hasn’t dimed him out as well, right?”
“Yes, and it’s the basic problem in the field, Matt. Game Theory is there to prescribe mathematical value to people’s actions and motivations. You can’t always mathematically account for everything, of course…people do random and illogical things for any number of reasons. But populations and demographics, Matt, they always follow predictable patterns. It’s not necessarily because the individuals inside of them are inherently predictable, but because the amassed aggregate is made predictable by the ‘80-20 principle’.
“However, I’ve personally found that it’s also largely because any demographics’ leader—or leaders—are all mathematicians in a manner-of-speaking. Anyone who is in a position of leadership knows what’s good for him or her. And they got that way by being pragmatic about the realities of cost, benefit and attrition. Since most leaders have foresight into the greater good, they—and by extension, their companies and constituents—can be mathematically predictable.”
“Alright?” Matt said, scratching his head.
“Alright.” Mr. Collins said smiling, “What is our policy against the Russians in Afghanistan?”
“To kick them out.”
“And if we can’t accomplish that, what is our goal?”
“To make it as expensive as possible for them to continue.”
“Which would, and probably will, eventually culminate in…?”
“The Russians leaving Afghanistan anyway?”
“Right. In contrast, what is the main Soviet strategy?”
“...errr, to win?”
“Try again.”
“To…spread Communism far and yon?”
“Is that a short or long-term goal?”
“Long, but I’m not following.”
“Actually, it’s a short-term goal because it doesn’t result in a permanent state.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“In any case,” Mr. Collins laughed, “Both the US and the Soviets have short-term goals, but only the US has a clearly defined long-term goal—a finite state of affairs wherein everything cancels out with a clear, concise victory for one or the other. Based on that knowledge alone—and not taking into account sustainment of resources or military capability—who is more likely to win? The one who plans for where we are currently at—what the board currently looks like—or the one who plans for the long-term future, even if that future requires accepting losses along the way?”
“Obviously the long-term.”
“And why is that, Matt?”
“Because...”
“Let’s make it even more complicated,” Mr. Collins said, smiling wider.
“Please don’t.” Matt laughed.
“Sometimes, predictability is a good thing. It makes you more familiar…more understandable. It’s a great asset for building trust with our nation’s allies. But believe it or not, randomization is incredibly beneficial to both allies and opponents alike. If you run a grocery store, and every first of the month you run a sale, when do you think your opponent’s will try to run their sale?”
“The week before?”
“So, when will you in turn need to run your sale the next month?”
“The week before that.”
“But if I choose my sales at random consistently, that forces you to do the same thing, since you can’t predict me. This will sometimes work out for me, and sometimes against me. Either way, it creates a more sustainable economy between us, which benefits us both, right?”
“I really don’t understand where you are going with this,” Matt sighed.
“Alright, look at it this way. We’ll make it easy. Every general has their favorite strategy, right?”
“I suppose so.”
“What if you didn’t know who a general was because his identity was classified, but you could more-or-less predict his identity based on the strategies he has historically employed? Even if you never fully confirmed who he was, if you dangled the right lure and he consistently took the bait, then you could make an educated guess as to how the rest of the game would go, provided your opponent continued to be who he was suspected to be.”
“So knowing your enemies’ motivations?” Matt asked.
“Exactly. Now, once again, the individual’s motivations can seem quite random—at least day-to-day with seemingly mundane activities. If a boy sees a pretty girl, he may or may not ask her out based on how intimidated he is by her. Or if a girl is trying out a new diet, she may decide to stick with it, or be tempted by the thing she is being deprived of, right?
“But we aren’t just talking about disparate individuals. We are talking about tactically-inclined and regimented demographics; specifically, the demographic of HVA agents who tend to over-rely on certain tactics—blackmail, for instance. They rely on these tactics because they have a very specific worldview that lends to a certain paranoia and distrust, even towards themselves. So, if you have an unknown case officer that tends to lead these HVA agents down certain paths—even if individuals in this agent-pool act against his wishes—if you know for certain that these agents are, in fact, acting against his wishes in order to act more like HVA agents…well, what do you think we could do with that knowledge?”
“Are you saying you think you know who Patrick’s case officer is?” Matt asked, perking up.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Mr. Collins smiled mischievously.
“Well, you could have just said that!”
“But then you wouldn’t know how I know why.”