Pennsylvania Omnibus (28 page)

His next step was to get his systems officers actively
looking for the data breach. Just as Transport had been scouring the digital
world looking for Dawn, TRACE’s spiders now went on the hunt for the leak in
their own system. Amos knew all about back doors and the damage they could
cause. In fact, he’d been the first one to find the back door in the original
TRID system. Since that time, he and his programmers—including Dawn Beachy—had
regularly infiltrated Transport’s system and used it to gain tactical
superiority (or at least parity) in their fight with the government. Then when
the BICE system was first introduced, it was intended to be a completely
sterile environment—free from any flaws or bugs that could be exploited by the
resistance. But that, like every such plan, was a fantasy. Amos, Dawn, and
other techs sympathetic to the resistance had riddled the system with back
doors and hacks—so much so that, in most cases, Transport didn’t even know that
a good portion of the data sent through the BICE system at any one time flowed
directly through portals and hubs run by TRACE.

The whole thing reminded Amos of a story he’d read about
as a young man. An actual event that had really happened in the history of
espionage. In 1969, the United States government rather unwisely entered a
contract with their Cold War enemy, the Soviets, to build a new American
embassy in Moscow. In order to speed the job along, and in the spirit of
détente that existed at the time, in 1972 the Americans agreed to allow the
Russians to build the embassy. The result was not just the most sophisticated
bugging of a building in all of history (before the BICE enterprise, anyway).
It wasn’t just that there were listening and recording devices throughout the
building; that might have even been expected. And it wasn’t just that there
were other, more difficult-to-discover bugs actually
built
into the
building.  The result was that, taken altogether, the
entire structure
became a huge radio device that could broadcast every single spoken and written
communication taking place in the building to Soviet intelligence. The building
itself could not be salvaged or fixed. Sophisticated new spying technologies,
some that had never been known to exist before, were actually built
into
concrete structures, in supporting walls, and through the concrete floors. The
new U.S. embassy did not
have
bugs. The embassy itself
was
a
bug.

American intelligence knew that a bugging operation was
going on, but their arrogance convinced them that once they had full access to
the building, they’d be able to find and remove or neutralize all of the
devices.  As is often the case when institutional hubris is involved, they
completely misjudged the enormity of their problem.

This situation roughly equated with what TRACE had been
able to do with the TRID and BICE systems. But now it seemed the tables might
be turned. TRACE had always used technology as an ancillary or support element
in their war against Transport. Advanced technology was just another tool.
Sometimes it even became a second front. But things were different now. With
TRACE producing their own ships and increasingly relying on cyberwar as an
element of their war plans, the SOMA had to be worried about his own systems
being hacked and used against him. Maybe, like when the Americans had
eventually learned about their embassy, it was already too late.

Well,
he thought to himself,
the geeks should be
on our side, so at least we can rely on them—

As soon as he thought it, he knew it was wrong.
When
we’re on top, some of them will defect back to Transport. If they haven’t done
so already
. Among programmers and geeks there are always rebels—even rebels
that rebel against the rebellion. Counter-revolution is revolution’s fickle
twin. His shadow. Instability is the geek’s favorite environment, and anarchy
is their oxygen. Now Amos made a mental note of what he’d learned. For decades
his mantra had been that within every technological advancement lie the seeds
of tyranny and slavery. Now, in his heart, he codified its natural consequent:
any society or government that relies too heavily on technology will find
itself perched perilously on a crumbling precipice over the valley of death and
destruction. In the new world, the geeks had become gods—or devils, depending
on how you looked at it. Perspective is everything after all.

The bombing of the City, the weak and transparent probing
action near the shelf, and the half-hearted attack on the Tulsa… all of these
things were pointing to the fact that somehow, he was missing something.
Something rather large. All of this added to the pressure of trying to win the
war while still maintaining his identity and humanity.

Sometimes he felt like he’d give anything to go back and
just
be
Amish. If only there were a button he could push that would
erase all of the technology and put everyone back on the farm for a few
thousand years. Make them fight with rocks and sticks again, if they must
fight.

I have such a button
, he thought, and then shook
his head. Okcillium gave him this power. He inhaled deeply and then exhaled.

Despotism and genocide are born in moments like
this
.

Amos examined the thin sheet of plastic handed to him by
an ensign. The latest field reports. Most of the units engaging in surface
operations did not have implanted BICE chips, and had to communicate through
officers staged in base camps. He dropped the plastic sheet in a trash
receptacle. The sheet display wouldn’t work for anyone but him, because it was
EYES ONLY
and was activated by his own BICE.

Most of the ground units east of the Shelf—between there
and the AZ—were now functionally out of the fight. Transport wasn’t operating
in the east anymore. Of course, that didn’t mean that their field agents and
insurgency units weren’t still operating. Just as TRACE had once had resistance
fighters and spies in place throughout the City, they also now had agents
embedded in all the cities on the Shelf. East of the shelf though, everyone was
just waiting. And there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that Transport was now
the insurgency in the east.

Amos looked at the ensign and nodded. “Activate Rayburn’s
people and get him to a communication deck. I want to talk to him myself.”

The ensign nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“That’ll be all.”

“Yes, sir.”

When the ensign was gone, Amos popped another Q tablet and
sat back in his chair. He didn’t really want to do any BICE work, and Dawn
Beachy was offline for the time being, so he didn’t have anyone to talk to. But
he took the pill because he liked the feeling, and it tended to smooth the
edges. Made him feel calmer and more confident. Somehow, on the first wave of a
hit of Q, his doubts and insecurities paled and faded. Not completely. They
didn’t disappear altogether—that would be too much to ask of a drug that didn’t
kill you in just a few years from insanity and addiction. For Amos, taking Q
was like drinking a beer was to some other people. It leveled him out, helped
him find some satisfaction in his otherwise stressful existence.

Just in case Dawn had reconnected and was trying to reach
him, he pulled up and entered his control room, and when the floating cube
materialized, he spun it slowly with his hand. He didn’t expect Dawn to be
there. In fact, he’d arranged for her
not
to be available. All part of
his plot to get his brother to dig deeper into the operation of his BICE. A
pure Amish mind, flexible and resilient, systemically agnostic, and clear of
technological biases… that was just what was needed at this moment. It was
exactly what his own mind had been like when he’d first cracked the TRIDs and
the early BICE units in 2075. Jed was now a
tabula rasa
, a clean
slate—and also a very clever young man who wanted only the truth.
Like I was
once
, Amos thought. For now, Jed was the perfect weapon. Transport wanted
Jed because the government needed an unwitting spy
and
a propaganda
victory. Amos wanted Jed because he needed victory.

Amos knew that Dawn wouldn’t be able to retrieve any DM
until the Yoders had fulfilled their purpose, but he wanted to drop her a
message anyway. He was just about to send her a DM when he remembered again to
change his avatar so that he would appear as his real self. An old man. And
that’s when he decided to get rid of his youthful avatar altogether. It was a
vanity, a joke he was playing only on himself. He accepted fully, maybe for the
first time, that he was past middle age, and to the rest of this young world he
was just plain old. He flicked his wrist and brought up the box that asked him
if he wanted to make his old man avatar his permanent one. He ticked “Yes” and
then closed the profile cube.

He’d just reached out to touch his master cube, when the
last person he would ever have expected to see at that moment appeared before
him. His brother, Jed. With the exception of a new and scrawny beard, the boy
looked exactly as Amos remembered him—the last time he’d seen him in the
flesh.

The two brothers looked at one another, and did not speak
for a moment as they each caught their breath.

It was Jed who spoke first.

“Amos,” he said with a nod.

Amos put his hands behind his back, then nodded in return.
“Jedediah.” Then, “You got here faster than I’d expected.”

There was another extended period of silence before Jed
spoke again. “Listen… Amos… I don’t know much about what’s going on, but I’m
learning. I learned how to get here to talk to you. And I’ve also learned
something else.”

“What have you learned, big brother?” Amos asked.

Jed scowled when he heard the emphasis Amos placed on the
phrase
big brother
, but he shook off the urge to launch into a scathing
attack on Amos.

“I figured out how they’re doing it,” he said.

Amos flinched. He wasn’t sure what Jed was talking about,
and for a split second he had a flash of doubt. Perhaps this person standing
before him wasn’t Jedediah at all? After all, his system had just recently been
hacked. But then the doubt passed, at least for a moment. He’d expected Jed to
get into the system and start figuring things out. In fact, he’d counted on it.
Just not this soon. Maybe Jed was even more clever than his younger brother
gave him credit for.

“Let’s not drag this out, Jed. What is it that you’ve
discovered?”

Jed took a deep breath. He knew that he was out of his
depth, but what he’d seen needed to be known.  “First, I figured out that
Transport is gathering tons of okcillium, and then I figured out how they’re
doing it.”

Amos blinked. “What?”

“They’re ripping up the roads. Starting back in 2050 on
Earth. That’s the real reason behind the laws to ban private transport. The
okcillium is in the road base. It always has been.”

The avatar that represented his
younger brother disconcerted Jed. He wasn’t sure what he expected to see, but
here before him was Amos as an old man, gray-headed and marked by years and the
pressures of governing. It was tough to accept. But he knew it was Amos, or at
least an accurate computer rendering of what his brother must surely look
like.

“How did you work it out?” his brother asked. The old man
looked at his wrist where a watch would be, even though he didn’t wear one.
“It’s late Saturday morning, and you haven’t had much time. We’ll get to the
okcillium and the roads in a minute. But I’m curious how you found me so fast.
Here. In the system.”

Jed shrugged. “It started with the code AT10S. It showed
up whenever you were looking over Dawn’s shoulder while she was training me. It
was something in the picture that shouldn’t have been there. I didn’t see it
when I was experiencing the training in real time, but later, when I went in as
an observer using the COFFEE CAN password… I saw your code in the
rendering.”

“I was watching and keeping tabs to make sure that Dawn
didn’t disclose anything too soon,” Amos said, nodding. “But that code
shouldn’t have been visible in the rendering. I know the code. You saw it
because of who you are.”

“Too soon—” Jed said. He was about to pounce on this, but
Amos continued.

“You’ve picked up the terminology and the engineering
lingo pretty fast, brother,” Amos said. “Let me ask you a question: when you
were milking Zoe, which one of her teats often had a mastitis problem?”

Jed stared at his brother for a long while. Then he
realized that Amos still wasn’t sure about him. There was fear there. Almost
latent and mostly hidden, but it was still there. The head of the resistance
didn’t know if this avatar of his brother standing before him was perhaps being
operated by some Transport hacker.

“That’s not a good question, Amos. After all, I could
guess. I’d have a one in four possibility of getting it right.”

“Well, at least you know a cow has four quarters to her
udder and four teats,” Amos said. “Not many Transport hackers would know
that.”

“The answer is
none of them
, Amos. Zoe never had
mastitis that I ever knew about. We only kept one milk cow and we cleaned her
teats thoroughly every time we milked her. We never had the problems so many
other farmers faced.”

“Okay then,” Amos said, “so tell me about this expansive
technology vocabulary you have all of a sudden. How’d you come upon it?”

Jed nodded. “Dawn helped with that. She programmed a
computing lexicon into my BICE. Every time I’m looking for a word or
experiencing anything new when I’m in the system, the word appears almost
before I realize I need it.” He fixed his brother with an accusatory glare.
“And I suppose if she did that, it was because you told her to do it. She
anticipated that I’d be mucking around in the system.”