Operation Red Read online

  ‘You’re going to be an apprentice clown,’ said John dryly.

  ‘That too,’ added Kara. ‘It’ll be great!’

  Ariel laughed and said: ‘I’m warming to it. But, I’ll miss you. It’s the end of school.’

  He squeezed Kara’s knee, then blushed and dropped his arm quickly. Kara grinned. She gave him a sudden peck on the cheek.

  ‘Thanks, Ariel. You guys will always be my friends, but I really need to get out of here.’

  ‘Why is Timbo a clown anyway?’ asked John, searching in Ariel’s bag for the apple he knew was there.

  ‘Dunno. He’s a genius with computer games,’ said Ariel. ‘I loaded his latest—Red Herring on Mars—yesterday. It’s a very devious and tricky game. One of his best creations yet. Why does a tech genius wear that crazy outfit?’

  ‘He bought The Counting Clown First School on a whim,’ said Kara. ‘Then he thought it would be fun to dress up as one. And he never got changed.’

  ‘Ugh.’

  ‘Not literally, John. He’s an oddball, which I kind of like. He’s got personality. It’s going to be great working there.’

  ‘That’s because you’re an only child,’ said John knowledgeably. ‘Little kids are grots, Kara.’

  ‘I expect mud pies and sand pits and paint stains and will be disappointed if I don’t get ‘em,’ said Kara.

  ‘Noisy grots,’ added John.

  ‘Yeah,’ enthused Kara. ‘Noise equals energy. Aah, the challenge. The nurturing of a future President. Come and visit us and you can be Thoughtful Mr John.’

  ‘Love to,’ said John insincerely. ‘But, gosh, I can’t. I too have a job.’

  ‘Wha! When?’ demanded Ariel. ‘When did you get a job?’

  ‘Yesterday. It’s only after school, don’t panic. You won’t have to eat your lunch by yourself. I wanted to tell you when we up here together.’

  ‘That’s great,’ said Kara, slapping him on the back. ‘Where’s it at?’

  ‘An office downtown,’ answered John. ‘Cleaning. Nothing to get excited about, but it’ll get me a bit of pocket cash. Every weeknight from seven to nine. It was my ref from your mother that got me the job, Ariel. They had lots of applicants. They might need more cleaners, want me to ask?’

  ‘No, thanks,’ said Ariel. ‘Ms President keeps me gainfully employed at home. I’m the number one filer of CyberCity’s excess presidential papers and paraphernalia.’

  ‘I went for a cleaning job there, too,’ said John, pointing over the school grounds to the new solar power station in Volt Town. ‘That was before Ms President gave me a reference, so I didn’t get it. But the pay was off anyway. About two thirds of what I’ll get in the office. They’re cost cutting.’

  The teenagers gazed idly at the huge solar complex in the near distance. Acres of dull panels faced the noon sun.

  ‘What a lemon. It’s still not working properly,’ stated Kara. ‘It was on comp-vision last week. That station should power 80% of CyberCity, but it’s doing nothing like that. The solar scientists do lots of calculations, but they can’t figure out why it’s not performing.’

  ‘No,’ mused Ariel. ‘Mum’s getting very tetchy about it. It’s costing CyberCity megabucks every week. It’s actually going backwards from full operating capacity.’

  ‘Was it ever there?’ asked John.

  ‘Days one, two and three,’ answered Ariel. ‘I remember mum coming home on Friday, after it had been open a week. She thought it was a glitch. Then the weeks went by and the power went backwards, and the glitch grew into a monster megaglitch.’

  ‘They need someone thoughtful, John,’ said Kara. ‘To figure it out.’

  A great idea

  30 June 2029

  Ariel put two huge mugs of hot chocolate on the table and offered Kara a plate of biscuits.

  ‘Biotech banana choc chip,’ he said ceremoniously. ‘Freshly made in honour of your visit.’

  ‘You’re a honey. Do you ever wonder what a real banana tasted like?’ asked Kara thoughtfully as she munched a biscuit.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Ariel. ‘But what’s gone is gone.’

  ‘Hmmm. Nice bikkies though. Isn’t chemistry wonderful?’

  Ariel shrugged, noncommittal.

  ‘It has its uses,’ he said as he flopped beside her on the couch. ‘Now, tell me about life at the First School.’

  ‘It’s different,’ Kara sighed. ‘It’s harder than I thought it would be.’

  ‘Because they’re grots, like John said?’

  ‘No, I wish they were,’ said Kara slowly. ‘They’re clean and quiet. It’s hard because they’re so duhhhhhlll. We don’t get dirty and we do everything neat and tidy and right. It’s like being trapped in a sloth colony.’

  ‘They’re only little.’

  ‘Ariel, we don’t have conversations, questions, activities. I can’t get them interested in anything hands-on creative. They don’t talk. But, put them in front of the Story Wall and they’re off, tapatapataptap on the keyboard.’

  ‘What’s the Story Wall?’

  ‘Oh, happiness!’ said Kara sourly. ‘The Story Wall is what we do all day, every day.’

  She gave another long sigh before continuing.

  ‘All the First Schools have them. An entire wall of linked screens and keyboards, and the kids write and do their arithmetickle and a little bit of art there. The art is just colouring in.’

  ‘Nasty.’

  ‘Yeah, it is. When they log in—first thing every day—the Story Wall tells them what to do. They’re there all day. I call it the drip feed.’

  ‘But they write stories on them? They can’t be that brain dead then.’

  ‘Yeah…no, they really are,’ said Kara firmly. ‘The name is a joke. It was called a Story Wall when it was invented, about ten years ago I think, but the only stories they write are ones where the story is already written and the kids just move the bits around and maybe type in a few words. They’re awful, so boring to read.’

  ‘On Sunday we went to the beach,’ Ariel intoned. ‘It was wet. And sandy. I had a swim. It was cold but we had sandwiches. Mum wrapped me in a towel. That was nice. We went home. The end.’

  ‘Noooo,’ Kara groaned. ‘Actually, that’s too good. There’s an emotional response and a long word in there.’

  The teenagers got the giggles at the expense of the First Schoolers, until Ariel went into a hacking cough. Kara ran for a glass of water.

  ‘Thanks,’ breathed Ariel after a drink. ‘Sucked in biscuit crumbs.’

  ‘You’re picking up John’s bad habits,’ said Kara. ‘At least you didn’t snort them out your nose.’

  ‘He’s a funny guy. Sometimes on purpose, too.’

  He took a lingering sip of thick hot chocolate.

  ‘But, back to the First School. What do you do all day, if they’re shuffling words around on the Story Wall?’

  ‘Watch. Wander. Add water to the salad powder and make lunch. Think devious thoughts about taking them all outside to watch a butterfly emerge from a chrysalis.’

  ‘That’s not what you had in mind when you quit school,’ said Ariel.

  ‘Mmm,’ said Kara. She took another biscuit, dunked it and popped the whole thing in her mouth. ‘No. It’s not what I thought we’d be doing. They don’t like suggestions and they don’t like change. They’re little automatons. They’re plugged in to the Story Wall and tuned out to the world, Ariel.’

  ‘Connected and not connected,’ suggested Ariel. ‘It’s a bit sad isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, it is,’ agreed Kara solemnly.

  They sat in silence for a while, thinking about that, not hearing the front door open and close quietly.

  ‘What’s Timbo like to work for?’ Ariel asked.

  Kara pointed at her mouth as a few crumbs escaped.

  ‘Oh, he’s alright,’ she said finally. ‘He just goes along with what the kids want to do. Between him and them, it’s not a stimulating place. Timbo spends most of the day working
on his computer game business. That’s his real job. He’s a technoggin and—oh hi Ms President!’

  Ms President put her briefcase down and grinned at the two teenagers on the couch.

  ‘What on earth is a technoggin?’ she asked.

  Ariel jumped up and kissed his mother’s cheek.

  ‘Someone who knows a bucket load of techno stuff,’ he said.

  ‘And that’s all they ever think about,’ said Kara. ‘No other part of the brain or the body gets a workout.’

  ‘Yeah,’ added Ariel. ‘A technological genius in a creative and social void.’

  ‘Oh,’ replied Ms President. ‘A nerd.’

  Ariel helped her take off her jacket.

  ‘My word but it’s good to be home. And it’s lovely to see you, Kara. I’d like to hear all about the new job. Are you staying? Have you two had any dinner?’

  ‘Not yet,’ said Ariel. ‘It’s simmering. We waited for you.’

  Ms President squeezed her son’s shoulder affectionately.

  ‘You’ll never be a technoggin, darling,’ she murmured. Then she kissed the top of his head. ‘Cause there’s a lot happening in there. You’re a whiz kid with computers and an artiste in the kitchen. I wish to blazes I had a ministry of multiskilled Ariels and Karas.’

  Ms President threw her arms dramatically in the air and swept out of the room.

  ‘Oh, the things I could do then!’ she shouted from the kitchen.

  ‘She’s a good Pres,’ said Kara, smiling.

  ‘A tad theatrical,’ chuckled Ariel. ‘But she does work with some real dills. I don’t understand how she does it. And why she doesn’t just change the things that she sees needs changing.’

  ‘Like passing a law to make people think.’

  ‘Banning Story Walls.’

  ‘Making people talk to each other.’

  ‘Bring back the banana!’

  The teenagers laughed and carried on talking.

  In the kitchen, Ms President smiled as she quietly stirred Ariel’s biotech chicken curry.

  Ariel woke early the next day, determined to knock off his kilohms assignment. He was twisting the final wire into place when Ms President appeared in the kitchen.

  ‘Aha, so we’re finally getting that house robot you’ve been promising to build me.’

  Ms President peered closely at the odd thing on the kitchen table.

  ‘Does it do something interesting?’

  ‘No, it’s fairly useless actually,’ said Ariel. ‘It creates silences. It’s a Digital Dilemmas assignment. And it is done.’

  ‘Most impressive,’ said Ms President. ‘I’d love to take it downtown and create a few silences. I’ve got an afternoon cabinet meeting—I feel weak thinking about it. I’m sure Kara gets more sense out of her four year olds than I do out of my ministers sometimes. The drivel!

  ‘I could make you some coffee,’ Ariel offered.

  ‘Good for you. A weak one, now that coffee is more expensive than gold, I feel one should self-ration. Then, could you whip up a gadget that creates constructive dialogue? I’d love to go into work with one of those.’

  ‘Hmm, that is, of course, a much more difficult thing than creating silences. My fee would be astronomical.’

  Ariel switched the coffee tower on.

  ‘Breakfast?’ he asked.

  ‘No, darling, just coffee. I’ll get something later.’

  ‘Make sure you do.’

  Ms President blew him a raspberry.

  ‘Are you up for a bit of paid work this morning? There’s about an hour’s worth of e-filing on my desk. Would you be a sweetie and despatch it for me?’

  ‘What else would I do on a Saturday morning, Mum?’

  ‘I pay very well,’ said Ms President. ‘And I’m having a little trouble with the program you wrote to do the job. Tom told me that the e-filing was extraordinarily exasperating yesterday. I need the expert to have a look. Besides, you haven’t mentioned doing anything else this morning.’

  ‘I don’t tell you everything I do, as you know,’ replied Ariel in fine good humour now his project was done. ‘It just so happens I have nothing on until this afternoon. And you do pay well, so, okay.’

  ‘So much for paying in love and kisses,’ mused Ms President. She glanced out the kitchen window. ‘Aha. Here’s my ride. He’s a little early, but that could be a good thing. I have a lot to do. Can I have my coffee to go? I wouldn’t want to waste it.’

  ‘You’ve got one of the new limos,’ Ariel said, looking out the window and waving at the chauffer. ‘That is an awesome colour.’

  ‘I had to twist arms to get it, too. People love black and brown and grey and white, but I said no to that. Give me hot pink or I’ll place my order elsewhere.’

  ‘You didn’t want the driverless version?’

  Ms President stuffed presidential paraphernalia into a satchel behind him.

  ‘Heavens, no. Our silly Media Minister went to CloudCity last week by accident. Boris couldn’t get the car to stop. Mind you, he insists on singing directions to the car, not speaking them; one of my less astute ministers, and that is saying something. No, I like to be driven; then I can sink back in the seat and just let the mind wander, freestyle.’

  ‘Nice.’

  ‘Very.’

  ‘Is it hydrogen or solar?’ Ariel asked. ‘Your new limo?’

  ‘Solar,’ said Ms President. ‘Now, if we could just get the solar plant producing all that it promised, CyberCity would be leading the cities in solar sciences. It wouldn’t matter so much that the world’s oil reserves officially ran out last November. But don’t get me started on those sunny scientist nincompoops. I might have to get them cycling on old fashioned bicycle generators if they don’t come up with a solution soon.’

  She picked up her coffee and headed for the door.

  ‘Must away; lots of red tape to shuffle around. Bye darling, I’ll be back mid afternoon, so see you tonight. And thanks for the help with the e-filing.’

  Ariel sorted his program’s problem with a deft application of logic, and he was several documents into the e-filing task when he opened a folder of memos and saw: Urgent and Confidential. A few of these papers had accidentally slipped into the e-filing before today, and Ariel had thought them fairly ordinary; not intriguing at all. He usually had a quick look, more out of habit than curiosity, and he had read a few lines before he was even aware that he was reading... this may cause system failure across the entire CyberCity network.

  Ariel picked the paper off the desk and read that line again. He began reading from the top of the memo.

  CyberCity’s network (BeigeNet) has several weak links. This memo deals with the one that is not yet fully documented and understood: the Microsoft 2ZB computer (see appendix 1). The 2ZBs are small and old—they pre-date the Great Crash—yet their limited infocapacityness contains a curious feature that is not widely known (see appendix 2). A computer hacker who recognises and accesses this feature could use a 2ZB to infiltrate Biz-Drive. Once into Biz-Drive, a hacker could use the 2ZB to compromise BeigeNet and cause havoc in CyberCity. Havoc!

  Biz-Drive linked businesses through their intranets and ran commerce in the city. It was a sprawling system, huge and powerful, that had replicated like a virus as CyberCity rebuilt itself after the Great Crash. Ariel flicked through the pages of the memo, cross checking the appendixes. As he read the very detailed information about the 2ZB and its potential threat to CyberCity, he began to see beyond the words.

  If Biz-Drive is compromised, BeigeNet operations will become unpredictable. It will be a disaster if the network fails. Workers will have to take urgent and unusual measures, such as manual operations. Workers are trained to work within Biz-Drive; they are not trained to do any work by themselves. They are certainly not trained to respond to network failure, and, if this happens, CyberCity will be full of clueless, workless workers. Initiative, critical thinking and creative responses are rare in the modern workplace. Who knows what wi
ll happen in CyberCity if BeigeNet fails? People would have to think and business would suffer.

  Very interesting. Ariel sat back in his chair and had a thought. It was closely followed by another. Then another. He smiled. Then he printed the memo and its associated documents. It was time to take a giant leap. He completed the e-filing in 40 minutes.

  A great idea will not wait for methodical filing.

  Recruitment

  5 July 2029

  ‘You nicked a confidential government memo?’ asked Kara incredulously.

  ‘No, I just printed a copy. Hey, you’re the one who said it was time for action.’

  ‘From your mother too,’ added John piously.

  ‘From the presidential papers,’ Ariel said. ‘That’s not the same thing. Look, here’s our chance to make a difference. Not in a First School, or by asking questions in Third School—great as those things are—but to actually help CyberCity. We can make people see how sedated they are, how gormless, ‘cause we let technology run our lives. We can force people to face up to what is happening—before computers take over the world!

  ‘A slight overreaction,’ said John.

  ‘Bosh, Ariel,’ murmured Kara. ‘All right, calm down and explain your idea.’

  ‘According to the memo,’ Ariel continued enthusiastically, ‘if we can get into one of these old 2ZB computers and tinker with its system, we can change what it does and there will be nothing to show that it has been tampered with.’

  ‘Well, that’s not a new thing,’ said John. ‘How does that change—?’

  ‘Wait wait wait,’ said Ariel impatiently. ‘The key is that you won’t be able to tell it’s been screwdrivered. The memo tells us how to make the change look like the computer has done it itself. See? Guys? Like it has had... has had... has had... ’

  ‘A thought,’ said Kara slowly.

  ‘Exactly!’ said Ariel triumphantly. ‘A thought. All by itself.’

  ‘So?’ said John. ‘It hasn’t had a thought, has it? People won’t fall for that. You trying to make them believe machines can think? That they’re alive or something? Come on.’

  ‘A thought,’ repeated Kara. ‘Hmmm.’

  ‘There’s more,’ said Ariel. ‘This is the really clever bit. We all know about the Champagne virus, the one that wiped out Microsoft in the Great Crash of 2023. But, hardly anyone knows this: the 2ZBs were the only computers in the world to hold that virus off. In the whole world. While Champagne’s little bubbles caused chaos in business and government all over the world, the 2ZBs carried on, for a few days anyway. Now, why was this you ask?’