The God Equation and Other Stories (9 page)

“I
’
m sorry Madam President, I…”

She raised her hand and continued, “Never mind. You
’
re here now. Share your findings. And please, Jon, keep it simple.”

Jon Lorenzo cleared his throat. As senior consultant to the Presidential Task Force on Cybersecurity, he found it unfair that he was expected to work miracles when he was as much in the dark as everyone else. “From what we can determine, the website appeared just three days ago,” he began. “It
’
s called
‘
Ogle
’
except that the initial character is actually a zero. The domain name is not registered in any DNS server yet it can be accessed by anyone, anywhere. You don
’
t even need an Internet connection, just a computer and a browser. All our efforts to trace the host and track down the webmaster have been futile. Measures to block the URL are useless as the site doesn
’
t have a valid IP address. The domain name itself consists of sixty-one zeros followed by the letters g, l, and e. ICANN currently restricts names to sixty-three characters
—
”

“English, Jon, English,” the President interrupted.

Jon sighed. “The website shouldn
’
t even exist,” he said. “It violates the rules of the Internet and the laws of physics.”

“It violates our privacy, that
’
s what it does!” said the Justice Secretary.

“
To what extent, we
’
ll soon find out,” said the President.
“
Jon, please go on.
”

“
Ogle gives its users the unprecedented ability to look through other people
’
s eyes and listen through their ears. No one knows how this is done or why this is even possible, who did it, and from where. Although it hasn
’
t recorded anything older than three days,
”
—
there was a faint sigh of relief
—
“
it hasn
’
t stopped recording everything since. To our knowledge
, the videos cannot be deleted.”
Jon thought he heard a collective gasp but it might have been the old air-con unit.

Jon continued.
“
This is a global phenomenon. The Ogle website consistently ranks number one every time you search for someone
’
s name along with the word
‘
video
’
regardless of which search engine you use. If a hundred others shared your name, all of you will appear at the top one hundred. Videos can also be searched by popularity. Vying for first place are Bush and bin Laden.
Obama
, a close third. That
’
s just the English version; Ogle supports multiple languages.”

“The end of privacy,” said the Interior Secretary, shaking his head. “We should wear masks, work through intermediaries, impose a ban on the use of computers…”

“
The U.S. response so far was to declare martial law, hours ahead of China and Russia,” said the Defense Secretary. “We should do the same.
”

“
I think a state of emergency would be in order,
”
the Justice Secretary chimed in. "Martial law would be political suicide.
”

“
Martial law is our only choice!
”
countered the Defense Secretary.
“
This website poses a grave threat to our national security. Martial law is a far better option than either a coup or impeachment. We should shut down the grid. Cut the power. No electricity, no computers.”

“Sir, with all due respect,” said Jon, “that won
’
t solve the problem.” He pulled out his cell
phone,
accessed the Ogle homepage, typed in his own name, and loaded the video. He flipped the screen around and showed it to the Defense Secretary. “Millions of people own a cellphone, and most models today have a built-in browser. I can recharge mine with my car battery. A blackout now would only empower criminals, rebels, terrorists, and foreign governments.”

The Defense Secretary looked convinced and so did the President.

“There
’
s more.” Jon tapped a few more links. “We don
’
t know how it does this, but Ogle displays highly personal data on every individual account. There are a total of sixty-four parameters. Full name, aliases, e-mail addresses, date of birth, weight, height, current location in longitude and latitude, all liquid assets in local currency, the names of your children, the names of those that you
’
ve killed or ordered killed in or out of the line of duty, the peop
le you
’
ve had intercourse with…
"

“That
’
s enough, Jon,” said the President. “Please put that away.”

But before Jon could log out, he noticed that someone else was viewing him: kittycutie15. He switched off his phone and tucked it away.

Rubbing her temples, the President said, “Is there anything Ogle can
’
t do?”

“Ogle cannot read minds,” Jon replied. “And it can only track the living. Each video is literally a live feed.”

The air-con
’
s hum switched to a low drone like a car changing gears.

At last the President said, “What would you do?” It took Jon a few seconds to realize the question was still directed at him. He looked at the Undersecretary for guidance and got a blank stare, and the men in the shadows remained in the shadows.

“I
’
m not asking you to formulate policy, Jon. I
’
m asking for your personal opinion. What would you do?”

The air-con
’
s drone seemed deafening. Then he found the courage to speak his mind.

“
Ogle gives users absolute access to anyone in the planet, and can search for people within a radius of ten meters to one kilometer from the original subject. I can enter your name, location, association, race or religion. Ogle will find you. I can even upload your scanned fingerprint. Ogle will find you. Therefore, I would choose my words and actions carefully from now on. I won
’
t do anything illegal or embarrassing and I
’
d tell everyone to do the same. I
’
d beef up my security detail. And as a public servant, I wouldn
’
t worry about being watched by the people I serve. I would not be a coward in a brave new world.”

“Good God,” someone said.

“
Not God,
”
said the National Security Adviser. “Big Brother.” His shadow didn
’
t fidget as much as the others.

“
Little brothers,
”
said Jon, “and sisters. Over six billion of them. Otherwise, aliens from outer space.” The Undersecretary shot him a warning glance: don
’
t get cocky, not today.

“
What I meant,
”
Jon quickly
recovered
, turning back to the President,
“
is that it
’
s highly likely everyone on this planet has an Ogle account. Ogle keeps a history, a list, of persons that have viewed through your eyes, logging the date and time, with an instant link back to that person. Conversely, it also keeps a history of your own viewing habits. Like the videos, both lists cannot be deleted. I can watch what you see, just as you can see what I watch. It
’
s a double-edged sword. But rest assured Madam President, I have not used Ogle on you or anyone in this room during my initial investigation.” In truth, Jon had used it on certain government officials, including the Undersecretary, but thought it prudent to lie.

“Yet here you are, saying we should allow others to spy on us,” said the President.

“I
’
d spy on them in return,” Jon said. “I
’
d
‘
Ogle
’
those who
’
ve
‘
Ogled
’
me and find out who threw the first stone.” He shivered and wished someone would turn off the air-con. But maybe he was just appalled by his own suggestion.

* *
*

“This is appalling,” Alexis mumbled as she arrived at the police station. A crowd had gathered outside, most being led in rather than out. The national police was swamped with cases involving petty crimes like theft and slander; on the other hand, incidents of murder and rape seemed to be declining, even after the government decided not to impose martial law. Because unlike the rest of the world, the country did not, as pundits had predicted, spiral into chaos. There were none of the street protests, riots, violent crackdowns, mass suicides, genocides, terrorist bombings, coups, and civil wars that had been hogging the foreign headlines in the five weeks since Ogle appeared. On the contrary, it seemed that most Filipinos just stayed home. She attributed it either to their sense of shame (
hiya
) or fear (
takot
), and felt that the former was the stronger form of social control. Those who had no shame (
walang hiya
) were controlled through the fear of getting caught and punished. As the rate of violent crime fell, Alexis realized that Ogle had become the perfect deterrent. What would she do then? She tried to recall if there was a Tagalog word for “guilt” and concluded there wasn
’
t any.

She could switch to family law, like her friend Laura who was making a killing handling legal separation and annulment cases now that husbands are unable to hide their illicit trysts from their wives. As Laura told her over lunch, in between sips of vanilla frap, “Your heart bleeds too much, Alexis. Human nature won
’
t change. Men are shameless, and they
’
ll always cheat.” Wiping foam from her small lips with a perfectly manicured finger, she added, “They also pay my bills.”

To this Alexis replied, “And I mind my own affairs.”

But perhaps it was due to her innate sense of justice, a misguided moral compass, or simple personal pride that Alexis continued working as a public defender. She squeezed through the crowd,
holding her briefcase and cell
phone against her chest. The police station was sweltering hot from the afternoon sun. The salty odor of humanity violated her nostrils as did the complex aroma of wood wax, cigarette smoke, leather, cheap cologne, and gun oil. After conferring with one of the officers on duty and almost stepping on the toes of a woman accused of
estafa
, she found her client sitting on a bench beside a rusty filing cabinet.

He was obese and nearly occupied half the bench. Sweat trickled down his dark puffy cheeks. He kept blinking. His knee jerked up and down, a habit she herself had trouble suppressing back in law school. The orange t-shirt he wore was drenched and she could see his dark areolas pressed against the fabric, punctuating a large letter P like lewd quotation marks.

“Good afternoon,” she said in a crisp
Filipino
vernacular, “I
’
m Attorney Alexis Lorenzo, your defense counsel.” She pointed at his t-shirt. “Did the police force you to wear that?”

Peter Portacio
’
s eyes lit up as he scanned her legs and breasts. He looked at her face almost as an afterthought.

“This t-t-
shirt is m-mine,” he said.

“Come again?”

“The l-letter P s-stands for m-my n-name. P-
peter.”

Even before Ogle, many suspects never enjoyed privacy when talking to their lawyers. A policeman was standing less than three feet away. She sat next to her client. “Did they threaten you?” she whispered. “Why so nervous?”

“N-n-no,” Pete said. “I
’
m n-not n-nervous. I h-have h-ad a t-t-er-ible s-stut
ter s-s-since I w-was
a lit
tle b-
boy. I w-work from h-home. Mm-m
edical t-tr
ans-scrip-scription-n-nist. N-not m-much t-talk-king n-
neces-s-s-s
—
”

“According to the prosecutor,” she cut in without a hint of pity, “that
’
s not all you do.”

“B-but I d-didn
’
t hurt anyone. I m
-mind m-m
y own b-business. I d-didn
’
t even use O-o-o
gle after I d-d-discov-vered that it allows users
to s-see…”