by Heide Goody
2015
Rats implanted with neural microchips
used to detect explosive devices.
“People think of lawyers as rats,” said Michael. “Or sharks.”
He tapped the other display case. It contained a model of the sharks Jaffle used to patrol the seas. Definitely a model; a full-sized shark would have been much, even in an office of this size.
“It amuses me to have these in here,” he said. “Do you think lawyers are rats, Alice? Or sharks?”
I paused. “Rufus Jaffle never had a high opinion of you.”
He grunted. “And yet without lawyers to interpret law and help put rules in place, there would be chaos. Please.” He gestured to a seat.
This wasn’t getting me into Jaffle’s computer system. I was just playing games with a potentially dangerous man.
I sat.
“May I?” he asked. It took me a moment to realise he wanted the plipper. I handed it over and he studied it.
“Order from chaos,” he said, waggling the plipper. “That’s all this is.”
I nodded like I cared.
“Do you ever think of all the things Jaffle has done for this world?” he said. “This company first made money building implants for people with neurological damage, helping paralysed people to walk, the blind to see, the brain-damaged to think again. Jesus style miracles.”
“The baby Jesus?”
He smiled. “I’m thinking of his later work. Then we gave people brain drives and brain ports. Education was revolutionised. Newspapers. Do you know newspapers?” He sat opposite me. “Back in the twentieth century they had things called newspapers.”
“Oh, sure. Newspapers.”
“They used to say that in one single copy of the New York Times, there was more content, more words, than the average person in the seventeenth century would access in a lifetime.”
“I’ve heard that.”
“Think on it. In two hundred years, a lifetime’s data content became a single day’s data content. I simplify, but you get the point, right?”
“Right.”
“In the space of the last thirty years, Jaffle has smashed that. You, me, everyone has access to a world of information. All learning, all knowledge, downloadable and shareable. Jaffle Tech has enhanced humanity exponentially.” He laughed, although I wasn’t quite sure what there was to laugh about. “You don’t need a lawyer to tell you that if someone has given you something remarkable, then you owe them something in return.” He turned the plipper over in his hand. “We elevated humanity beyond all recognition. Anything Jaffle Tech takes from them is merely restitution.” He put the plipper down on the desk.
“All we want is order. Security. Structure.” He pointed at my tunic. “You’ve spent time among them.”
“Customer support workers?”
“Jaffle Standards,” he said. “What are they like?”
“They’re just like us.”
“Really?”
“They eat beans and watch Mr Smiley, but they’re just like us.”
He sneered. “Have you seen the Mr Smiley shows?”
“They still have dreams, desires. They want things.”
“And it’s important that they do,” he conceded. “If people want to better themselves then they also want to separate themselves from those around them; keep those beneath them down. It reinforces the social structure. The belief that they can rise helps keep the lower classes happy.”
“The lower classes?” I said.
“Mea culpa. Those on more basic packages. The terminology has changed but much stays the same. Back in the Middle Ages— I’m sorry: two history analogies in one day. You can’t be devoted to the law without having a firm grasp of history. Back in the Middle Ages, the peasants were the lowest class in society. The rulers, kings and emperors would have to keep them in their place, maintaining power for themselves while knowing that peasants were the essential means of production. Without the peasant class, the aristocracy would starve. Then along came the Industrial Revolution and slowly things changed, just a little. Right through to the present day, the structures remain the same but the reasons change.”
He pointed at the rat in its case.
“It’s vermin, the rat. It serves no purpose. It steals from human society. It breeds uncontrollably. It causes damage. It spreads disease. But put a chip in its head and it serves some function. In our world, the world of work is now almost fully automated. What machines can’t do, Jaffle-enhanced animals can. Only in interpersonal interactions such as customer support do people still like the human touch.”
“They do,” I agreed.
“But, for the most part, humanity is obsolete. We’re now in the business of planned obsolescence. We’ve elevated humanity but there’s no goal to that, nothing to elevate them for. The majority of the human race needs to be contained, controlled, kept happy with beans and Mr Smiley. If we let them run free, free in society, free inside their own heads, then they will be nothing but vermin, a nuisance.”
He tilted his head.
“Yes,” he said, clearly on a call. “I’ve been waiting ten minutes for a response. Stalling, yes. I’m just here with Alice.” He looked at me and gave me a friendly eyebrow waggle. “Ah, she is. Good. That’s fine then.” He nodded, the call ended. “Sorry about that,” he said. “I needed to check.”
“Check?”
“Where were we?” he said. “Ah. Rats. Sterile rats in sterile little boxes, like your friend at North Beach. Rats are fine as long as you have them under control. The problem comes if one escapes.”
“Er, yes?”
“What can you do then?”
“Actually, there was this mouse one time, running round the office—”
Michael had picked up the plipper and pointed it directly at me.
“Wait,” I said.
His thumb pressed the stud. He plipped me.
***
Chapter 29
I slumped in the chair like I had seen Levi slump in the meeting room. My jaw sagged. My eyes unfocussed. I did not move.
Michael turned the plipper over in his hands, impressed with the device’s apparent effectiveness.
“You’re a fair liar, Alice,” he said. “Superficially convincing. But I have a real eye for liars. Comes with the territory.” He stood and adjusted the cuffs of his suit jacket as he rounded the desk. “Also, I have full access to employee records. And, yes, I had just received a communication from Estelle in HR that some jumped up support worker called Alice Tennerman was making wild and unfounded accusations about our CTO.” He laughed. “Jethro Henderson a hopeless romantic? A secret affair? He’s the dullest, least sexual man in the company. Now, me, I’m a man who knows how to enjoy life to the full.”
He ran his fingertips along my cheek and up to my temple. I didn’t move. I didn’t respond.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “We’ll soon have you back in your little box, enjoying beans and Mr Smiley. You were on Standard before? And you’re familiar with the ins and outs of Operation Sunrise?” He nodded as though I had responded. “Good. So you know that when we roll out in four days Standard will be a lot more … streamlined. A more simplistic experience but one I think you’ll be perfectly happy with.” He perched on the desk directly in front of me.
“And there are even more new features you’ll enjoy. We’re enhancing port to port communications. None of this wearisome business of actually needing to vocalise during communication. Just think about it. Silent instantaneous communication. Dumb mute rats in their boxes. And the three percent without Jaffle Ports – weirdos and outcasts, the lot of them. How long do you think they will want to stay as outsiders when the world around them is silenced? When they are truly cut off from the future of human communication?”
He looked at me. My downward gaze didn’t waver. He sighed. Talking to an Empty had limited entertainment value.
“You sit tight, Alice. I’ll go meet the security team.” He patted my
knee, a lingering touch, and left.
The moment he was out of the door I was up.
Helberg had been right – thank goodness! The plipper had had zero effect on me. Whatever Rufus’s memory and the whale brain virus had done to me had armoured me against it.
I rubbed my cheek vigorously where that creepy Michael had touched me. He’d gone to meet the security team. I didn’t know how far away he’d gone or indeed when they’d be back. I popped my head out the door. I couldn’t see him along the corridor. I sneaked out.
I was near the elevators when I heard Michael’s voice and the movements of several people. “Yes, captain. We can take her into custody on my authority. Theft, fraud, false accusations against senior executives.”
I ducked into the nearest open door, the toilets, and held the door closed while security went by. My instinct was to stay there but it would only be seconds before they realised I had gone. I did not hesitate. I walked out, knowing any of them might look back and see me, and I hurried to the elevator. There were no shouts. No one tried to tackle me to the ground. I slipped into the elevator and made for the ground floor.
I made a call to Helberg.
“You’re still alive,” he said.
“Yes.”
“I’m impressed. Have they arrested you yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Not yet?”
“Mmmm. I kind of got caught out by this guy Michael from legal. He plipped me. I only pretended it worked and now I’m coming home. I’ve got the evidence we need.”
“Wait, wait, wait. Jaffle Tech can track you. They do track you. The location function on your brain port.”
“Can you do something about that?”
“Not from here.” He sounded deeply worried which was both touching and unhelpful. “I can fry your port’s circuits or completely power it down, but you’d have to be here for that.”
“Can’t you break into the company systems and stop them tracking me?”
“I told you. I can’t break through their security. I’d need—”
“A meteor strike to take out their servers, right.”
An idea occurred to me. We’d all had a presentation a while ago about the failsafe systems protecting our power supplies. I remember being impressed at the time. Power cuts were rare, but an outage wouldn’t stop Jaffle headquarters from operating because there was a large battery backup, and a gas-powered generator for extreme circumstances. I remember thinking at the time, if you were protecting against someone who seriously wanted to disrupt the organisation, you wouldn’t locate the battery and generator in the same enclosure. Taking out power to Jaffle might save my bacon in the short term, and it might even put a dent in Operation Sunrise. It was worth a shot.
There was no security waiting for me in the lobby. I should have thought about that on the way down. It was pure dumb luck I wasn’t apprehended the moment I stepped out.
I scuttled through the building and towards the rear entrance. A large corporate headquarters had a lot of deliveries and produced a lot of waste. People and bots, moving with single-minded efficiency, moved in and out.
The backup power enclosure was close, surrounded by a sturdy slatted fence. The gate was locked so I went and peered through the gaps in the wood. I wasn’t sure what I expected to see, but an On/Off switch would have been nice. There was nothing that even hinted at being a crucial control component. It looked like a series of well-secured huts. Even if I could get through the fence, I would need to unlock the huts and then figure out what I was looking at. I turned away with a sigh. Some kind of subtle sabotage ought to be possible, but I had no clue what to do.
Then I looked across the loading bay, and I wondered if some form of unsubtle sabotage might be possible. Over by a cordoned-off area there was a sign. It read:
Danger: works in progress.
Not at that moment there wasn’t, but it looked as though a new flower bed was being created. What interested me were the paving slabs that had been cut to make space for it. Something had sliced right through them. My attention was drawn to the interesting machine that was right in front of me. It had a wicked-looking circular blade mounted at the front, and a pair of small wheels at the back. It looked as if it was simply rolled up to cut whatever stood in its way. I decided to give it a try. There was a little plastic case over a big green button. I lifted the case and pressed the button. There was a high-pitched electric whine and the blade started to spin. I pushed it forward and it bit into the paving slabs with a hell-raising shriek. I decided to save the attention-seeking noise until I was at least doing something destructive.
I lifted the blade again and wheeled the machine across to the backup power enclosure. There was some heavy duty conduit leading towards the building. I pushed the blade slowly forward and down. It bit into the conduit. The sparks it produceed were almost as distracting as the horrific noise it made, but I was committed now. I pushed harder and the noise rose in pitch. Vibrations rattled up my arms, but I’d cut through the outer casing. I urged the blade further. There was a loud bang and the machine bucked right out of my hands and stopped dead. I decided it was be a good time to make my exit and scurried backwards. When I got to the building’s rear entrance, the door was closed. A woman was inside, hammering on the glass. There were no lights on and behind her the building was surprisingly dark. I decided to find another way of leaving and followed the road used by delivery trucks until I reached the security gatehouse.
“Power’s out!” called a security guard from the booth. “Everything’s gone mad!”
I nodded. “Following protocol and leaving the premises in case of any ongoing threat.”
“Uh, yeah. Wise move,” he replied. “What protocol?”
“It’s new,” I replied vaguely.
He waved me through. I ducked under the vehicle barrier and walked quickly up the road.
I crossed Jaffle Park and hailed a car to take me home. A call came through from Helberg. As I answered it, the signal failed. I nervously dismissed the call. I had made a mess of everything. Whatever he wanted to berate me for could wait.
I tried to calm myself as we crossed the city. I had several hours until I needed to get ready for the gala. Time enough to share my evidence with Helberg. Time enough to work out what I would say to Rufus, to show him what was being done by his company in his name. Time enough to fix everything for everyone.
The car approached the Shangri-La Towers apartment complex. As always, the pitiful Empties in their pink coveralls were gathered at the roadside. Without warning, one of the nearest lurched out into the road in a mindless Empty shuffle, right in front of the car. It responded automatically, braking, catching me in its restraints and stopping just short of hitting the Empty.
“A pedestrian collision has just been avoided,” said the car. “Are you injured?”
“I’m fine.” I looked up and saw the Empty’s slack face.
It was Patrick Helberg.
***
Chapter 30
The Empty Helberg lurched round to the door, hands on the car to stop it moving away. The slack look had vanished from his face. I tried to step out but he blocked the doorway.
“You can’t come in,” he murmured. “There’s somebody from Jaffle here. They’re looking for you. They look sort of serious.”
My throat tightened in fear.
“Here.” He reached into his Empty coverall and pulled out a folded bundle: the dress I’d stolen from Claire. “I hope I haven’t creased it too much. And this…” From a pocket he took a bright blue ball of netting. It looked like a foaming shower scrunchy. “It’s a fascinator,” he said, clipping it into my hair.
I didn’t know what a fascinator was so I jipped the word. For some reason I got no answer, but it wasn’t at the top of my list of priorities.
“Okay it’s a shower scrunchy attached to a bulldog clip,” he added, “but it looks good enough. And there’s a signal scrambler in there.”
“Which
means?”
“Your Jaffle Port isn’t sending data out and you’re getting none in.”
“I’m blind,” I said automatically, realising my sixth sense had been effectively switched off.
“You’ll cope,” he said with only the mildest reproach. “It will stop them tracking you. I think. Now, you go to that party, get out of here for a bit.” He held out his hand. “You had evidence.”
I tapped my skull. “Memory. Michael from legal. He’s a slimy character. Told me everything.”
“Everything?”
“He told me what Jaffle wanted the future to be. It was horrible.”
“But did he admit to any legal or moral wrongdoing?”
I wasn’t sure about that. “I thought if we just showed people what Jaffle Tech thought of them…”
Helberg didn’t look convinced. “We don’t have the opportunity to extract those memories now. If Rufus Jaffle’s the good guy you say he is, then he’s the only one who can help you. You need to find him.”
“Of course,” I said. “But where—?”
“You haven’t got time to waste.”
I touched his pink coverall. “Where did you get this from?”
He smirked. “I didn’t want you picturing a naked Empty currently bumping and bumbling his way around our new garden.”
“I didn’t think you stole it.”
“I mean, there’s a naked Empty in our garden. I just didn’t want you picturing it. Now, go.”
He began to withdraw so the door could close. I leaned forward quickly, one hand on his coveralls, and kissed him on the lips.
“Thank you, Patrick,” I said.
“Anything for an amazing woman.”
“I thought you would do anything for the easy life.”
He shrugged. “It’s a shame they’re mutually exclusive.” The door closed on him.
As the car drove to the Jaffle Tech gala, I put on the stolen dress. The smell of the perfume I’d also stolen still clung to it. My mood was low but I was nonetheless thrilled to have a chance to look and smell so nice. It felt like a declaration of who I really was, an affirmation of my right to be what I wanted to be.