Operation Red Page 3

  John shrugged.

  Kara stared at Ariel over her glasses.

  ‘Ok, I’ll ask,’ she said. ‘Ariel, tell us why it was that the 2ZB didn’t spritz like every other computer in the world?’

  ‘They have a teensy bgates microchip. It controls and protects the computer. It was a groundbreaking invention in technology in 2023, but it had some production problems. Less than a hundred 2ZBs were made, in a prototype run, just weeks before the Great Crash. They went out as a trial and were operational when it happened, and they were not contaminated. The 2ZBs are uncontaminatable.’

  John shook his head. Kara looked puzzled.

  ‘Or, to put it another way,’ said Ariel, ‘they are believed to be so.’

  ‘You know how to contaminate them?’ Kara said wonderingly.

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Doesn’t make sense,’ John said. ‘I’ve never heard of a bgates chip.’

  ‘No, neither had I,’ said Ariel. ‘This is all in the memo.’

  ‘Alright,’ said John. He looked carefully at Ariel. ‘After the Great Crash, why didn’t system makers use the bgates microchip on everything? If it was so great, so powerfully resistant, why didn’t they use them to rebuild virus proof computers?’

  ‘Aha! Now we get to it. Remember, the 2ZB was new and top secret. Not many of them existed in 2023. Very few people knew they existed, and even less knew that they kept going when Champagne hit. When the world’s systems seized, even though the 2ZBs worked okay, they had nothing to do, no business to transact.’

  ‘The dark days of the Great Crash,’ mused Kara.

  ‘There was a lot going on,’ John said. ‘Data was lost all over the world. Huge companies shut down, some never reopened. Systems destroyed. BeigeNet crashed. Zurich went bankrupt. China and India lost trillions. Nothing worked. People couldn’t get their money out of the bank. Or make phone calls. Or go shopping.’

  ‘Because everything was connected,’ said Kara.

  ‘Yes,’ said John. ‘Too much depended on too little. One massive virus took out entire systems by bouncing around the connections. Like the solar storms of 2016, only worse. We didn’t learn from that; remember how CyberCity shut down? And then Champagne came along and we were back in the stone age, again.’

  ‘And the genetic engineering mess created by Monsanto in 2020,’ added Kara. ‘Because too much biology had been tampered with and farmers had a really small number of food varieties to plant. One disease affected everything.’

  ‘Goodbye corn.’

  ‘Variety is a very good thing,’ agreed Ariel. ‘But, yeah, CyberCity didn’t learn that lesson. BeigeNet was rebuilt after the Great Crash, and with an increased capacity to gather and merge information. Biz-Drive was set up as an independent system within BeigeNet. Only, as the years went by, systems started to get reconnected. BeigeNet is once more, one unit.’

  ‘You haven’t answered the question,’ put in John. ‘After technoggins killed the Champagne virus, why didn’t they—?’

  ‘Okay,’ said Ariel. ‘Here it is. The blueprint for the bgates microchip was lost in the Great Crash. No one knew how to rebuild it. Technoggins took the 2ZB apart, and studied it and reconstructed it, but they couldn’t replicate the bgates microchip. Remember, technoggins didn’t have many friends after the crash, and they sure didn’t have a lot of places to work. Most, including the 2ZB creators, whoever they were, went to ground. When the dust settled, new technoggins came slowly through the Fourth Schools, and they had to learn a lot from nothing.’

  ‘Knowledge was lost,’ said John.

  ‘Lots of knowledge,’ added Ariel.

  ‘Mmmm.’

  The three teenagers pondered that for a while, each with their own memories from family stories of living through the Great Crash, and its quiet aftermath.

  ‘Are there still 2ZBs working in CyberCity?’ asked Kara.

  ‘Not many,’ replied Ariel. ‘But yeah, in some tiddly, low budget companies, there are a few pottering along. The memo estimates maybe five in the city, but no-one has counted them, and no-one knows exactly where they are. They’re old technology, see? Only the memo writer seems worried, and not worried enough to go and get them and destroy them, just worried enough to record worry.’

  ‘Who wrote that memo?’ asked Kara.

  ‘Dunno,’ replied Ariel. ‘It’s really clear on what the 2ZBs did though, and even though they’re outdated and slow as Ananova in a Prius, they’ve got anarchic potential in the wrong hands. Our hands. It’s unsigned and undated.’

  Ariel twiddled his ten fingers in the faces of his friends.

  ‘Woooooah. Heh heh.’

  ‘Isn’t that odd?’ Kara asked. ‘Let’s see it.’

  Ariel handed the papers over.

  Kara scanned them while Ariel turned to John.

  ‘We need to find one, just one is all we need.’

  ‘Because…?’

  ‘Because they are thought to be impossible to contaminate with a virus, John,’ said Ariel patiently. ‘And that memo contains the info needed to break into a 2ZB. We break in, change its program creatively and reconnect it to BeigeNet. Then we have it send a message: Dear CyberCity, I have had a thought, yours sincerely, 2ZB.’

  ‘If you can do that, and cover your tracks, you reckon it will look like the computer has changed its own mind?’ asked John.

  ‘Our tracks will be covered,’ said Ariel. ‘The government’s TechYES department will spring into action—well, they’ll do something. They’ll investigate. They’ll find out the history of the 2ZB and that it can’t be tampered with, so it must have done this on its own. Oh no! A thinking computer! What shall we do?!’

  ‘It could stir up a load of trouble in CyberCity,’ said Kara.

  ‘Good trouble, I’m sure of it,’ said Ariel. ‘The government must respond.’

  ‘What do you think they’ll do, Einstein?’ said John.

  ‘Unknown,’ answered Ariel. ‘But, any action has to be positive, doesn’t it? Imagine if androids began to think and turned on us. Every home has at least one. Mad machines running around CyberCity—and we’ve lost the thought processes to trip them up and regain control.’

  ‘As if,’ said John. ‘Androids are so tame.’

  ‘I still think it’s odd that information like this is floating around,’ said Kara.

  She handed the memo back to Ariel.

  ‘Lots of odd things float around in the presidential e-filing, Kara,’ said Ariel. ‘So, what do you think?’

  ‘About your idea?’ asked Kara.

  ‘Bosh,’ said John. ‘They won’t fall for it.’

  ‘It could be brilliant, Ariel,’ Kara said. ‘This could be the kick the government needs to act. It seems like Ms President needs something to react to. Like she can’t create an anti-technology reaction all by herself.’

  ‘My thoughts exactly,’ said Ariel. ‘But if the ministers of CyberCity are led to believe they have a thinking computer on the loose—I don’t know what will happen, but it’s got to be good, because it’s different. That’s my feeling. Are you in?’

  Kara nodded.

  ‘S’pose,’ muttered John. ‘You’ve had worse ideas. Maybe. There are some really old computers in the office where I clean. What does a 2ZB look like?’

  ‘Ordinary and ugly,’ replied Ariel. ‘Light brown; small screen. Think early 1990s design. The prototypes were designed to not stand out in the trial, in case competitors got a whiff of the innovation, I suppose. They’ve got 2ZBP stamped on the back. It would be used for very simple jobs now, so if there’s one there it’ll be working in an inconspicuous situation.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll look,’ said John unenthusiastically. ‘What if I find one?’

  ‘Great!’ enthused Ariel. ‘Our biggest problem is finding one. They’re rare, and we can’t let people know we’re looking for one. Don’t ask anyone, okay? There should be no leads to us. Are you working tonight?’

  Sabotage

  24 July 202
9

  The phone rang as Ariel was pouring his mother a pre dinner glass of wine.

  ‘Ariel,’ breathed the conspirator. ‘The boss isn’t here tonight. It’s just me and the polisher.’

  ‘Tonight,’ Ariel repeated. He glanced over to the kitchen. ‘What about the polisher?

  ‘He won’t say anything.’

  ‘Aah, John, I dunno— ’

  ‘It’s a machine, Ariel.’

  ‘Haha.’

  ‘Come; right now,’ said John.

  ‘Sssh. Wait, let me think,’ Ariel whispered.

  ‘It’s perfect.’

  Ms President put her head around the kitchen doorway and pointed questioningly to herself. Ariel shook his head and she disappeared.

  ‘Okay. I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes. Can you call Kara?’

  ‘Yeah. Hurry.’

  I have to lie. Sorry Mum, but you’d understand if you knew. I think.

  Ariel walked into the kitchen and handed his mother the wine.

  ‘John’s having a crisis,’ he said.

  ‘Poor John.’

  ‘Yeah, he needs help with his Digital Dogma assignment. Major mark, due tomorrow. He’s very stressed, Mum. I think I should skip dinner and go straight over.’

  Ms President savoured the chilled fluid.

  ‘Mmm. Fine with me,’ she said. ‘I’ll save you some dinner. You’re a good friend, Ariel.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Ariel, hoping his guilt didn’t show. He picked up a Germaine Greer apple and put it in his satchel. ‘Sorry about rushing off before dinner.’

  ‘You don’t do it often,’ said Ms President. ‘And I have work to do tonight. Off you go and do your spriting gently.’

  ‘I go, I go.’

  Ariel closed the door softly and ran for his tri-bike.

  The office held a mismatched collection of old computers, each partnered with tables and bins. John led Ariel and Kara to a corner of the room.

  ‘It’s this one,’ he said, patting a nondescript plastic box. ‘What do we do now?’

  Ariel looked at the back of the computer.

  ‘2ZBP,’ he read. ‘You beauty.’

  He grinned at John.

  ‘Let’s shift it out so we can get to the back and the underneath.’

  Kara began to unpack tools out of the sabotage bag, as the boys unplugged the computer and moved it onto a bigger table.

  ‘What an antique,’ said John. ‘And it’s greasy. Ugh.’

  ‘Looks aren’t everything, eh?’ said Ariel.

  ‘Don’t muck around. Hurry up.’

  Ariel was already unscrewing the back panel.

  ‘Nervous?’ he asked playfully.

  ‘Yes.’

  John picked up a screwdriver to speed the operation up.

  ‘So am I,’ Kara answered. ‘This is sneaky. We’re doing a really good thing for CyberCity, but I feel like a cr—’

  John and Ariel froze.

  ‘Oh, shit,’ whispered Kara. ‘Did you hear that?’

  ‘Mmm.’

  ‘A voice. I thought I heard a voice.’

  They listened intently, a tableau of conspirators in a dim and silent building.

  ‘Yes,’ whispered Ariel urgently. ‘I hear it. Thumpathumpathumpathumpa—oh Kara, that’s your heart!’

  John giggled.

  Then they heard the voice.

  John sprang at the polisher and flicked it on. The noise was sudden and startling. He frantically motioned Ariel and Kara behind a corner desk and set about polishing the floor, moving away from them. A man appeared at the door.

  ‘There you are buddy, didn’t you hear me?’

  ‘Oh, hi boss. No, busy busy. This room hasn’t been floor polished for a few days so I thought I’d do it tonight.’

  ‘Good, good. Initiative. Never had a cleaner with initiative. I could get used to that and stay home.’

  He laughed loudly.

  ‘Carry on. I just popped in to check all’s well,’ he added.

  ‘I thought you were going out for dinner.’

  ‘On the way there now. It’s getting blowy out there, looks like a storm coming.’

  He looked around the room.

  ‘So, no problems here?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You might get wet going home. Why’d you move that computer?’

  ‘What computer?’

  John kept polishing.

  ‘Oh, that. Someone’s dropped a drink on the floor there. It looks like that new drink, Copepla, very sticky. I got carried away, a sticky floor is yag, so I shifted it to clean the whole area. Swept it, mopped it, had to go looking for a mop, but found one down the hall, now I’m polishing. Thought I’d wipe the computer down too. It had some Copepla splashed on it.’

  ‘Hmm, it’s all the rage. Copepla. Always was a Coca Cola fan myself, but the real thing never recovered from the Great Crash.’

  John’s boss looked at him curiously.

  ‘Initiative. Make sure you put it back.’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘I’ll be off then. Give me a call on the visi-phone if you need anything, okay?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘If you finish work and there’s a tempest outside, you can call a taxi and we’ll take it out of petty cash. Can’t have a worker with initiative getting ammonia walking home in the rain.’

  ‘Thanks boss, I’ve got the tri-bike. I’ll be ok. Have a nice dinner.’

  John followed his boss out the door and kept polishing down the corridor. After a couple of minutes, he sidled down the corridor to reception. He stood there in the shadows and watched as his boss drove off.

  ‘Pheeew.’

  He walked back.

  ‘Okay, he’s gone,’ he said to the room.

  With a loud groan, Kara rolled out from behind the desk and lay spreadeagled on the floor. Ariel stood up slowly.

  ‘Oh, man! Thank blazes I didn’t park the tri-bike right outside the door.’

  ‘He almost caught us red handed all right,’ said John. ‘Too close. How’s your heart now, Kara?’

  Kara gave him a look.

  ‘You were cool as a cucumber, mate,’ said Ariel admiringly. ‘Lucky the polisher was there, eh?’

  ‘Not luck,’ replied John. ‘I put it there in case we had to have a diversion. Now let’s get on with it so I can get you two out of here.’

  Ariel unclenched his hand from the screwdriver and jiggled his fingers.

  ‘Cool as a cucumber,’ he repeated, as he went back to work.

  ‘I didn’t sound nervous?’

  ‘Nah.’

  ‘Well, maybe a little,’ said Kara as she walked over to help. ‘I was thinking: shut up John and let him go.’

  ‘And he was thinking: the boy’s got initiative,’ said Ariel. ‘That’s amazing.’

  He took some papers from his back pocket and handed them to Kara.

  ‘Hurry up,’ said John.

  ‘Yes sir. Have a look at the circuitry layout. I reckon this is going to be easy.’

  He pulled the computer’s grimy casing away from its innards.

  ‘It looks like a fairly simple layout,’ agreed Kara.

  ‘Hard to believe this little computer withstood Champagne,’ said John peering inside. ‘I could build this.’

  ‘John,’ said Ariel. ‘You’re good, but you’re not that good. Looks aint everything, remember. Watch this.’

  He dismantled a section and gently separated a mess of wiring.

  ‘See that?’

  Ariel pointed to two purple wires leading into a black box. He began to isolate the wires.

  ‘This is where we change its mind. The box holds the bgates chip. We don’t need to go in there though, what we are going to do is switch these wires. That bypasses bgates and then we can get into the 2ZB. Thankyou, memo. Can one of you pass me the cooker? It’s in Kara’s bag.’

  ‘Wow, you’ve got a cooker!’ John exclaimed. ‘Where’d you get a cooker?

  ‘CyberCity contraba
nd,’ chuckled Ariel. ‘Weird technoggin stuff from the presidential office.’

  Kara held up a flat orange piece of plastic.

  ‘Cooker?’ she asked.

  ‘Yep,’ said Ariel. ‘The world’s most advanced tool for accessing a computer’s important bits. It should get us in, then we’ll get really clever.’

  Ariel connected the card to one of the purple wires.

  The wire pulsed with light.

  ‘What’s happening?’ asked John.

  ‘No idea,’ replied Ariel thoughtfully. He sat back and looked at the wire. ‘I don’t remember reading anything about a flashing wire at this point. Check the layout papers, Kara. I’ll carry on cooking.’

  ‘Is it alarmed?’ asked Kara.

  ‘I’ll be alarmed if you don’t hurry up,’ said John. ‘Ariel, what can I do?’

  ‘Grab the keyboard from Kara’s bag, and hold this wire while I hook the other one up to the keyboard,’ replied Ariel. ‘We’ll find out what this thing is programmed to do tomorrow, then change the progam, teehee.’

  ‘There’s no alarm mentioned, but there’s nothing about a lit wire either,’ said Kara. ‘Not on these plans. They’re pretty basic.’

  ‘Hmmm.’

  ‘Oh, wait,’ said Kara. ‘Uh oh.’

  ‘What?’ Ariel and John said.

  ‘It is an alarm. A devious and sneaky alarm. There’s a tiny note here. It uses a simple code, that’s why I missed it. If I’ve got it right, the flashing wire means the bgates alarm has alerted the william and shut down ... something. Maybe. It’s hard to tell. What’s a william?’

  ‘Dunno,’ said Ariel. He looked at the computer. ‘Any idea, John?’

  ‘None. Just do it Ariel. You may still be able to work on it.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Ariel said. ‘Right. Ok, we’re in, and here’s the program. Start typing, John. Be as creative as you like, make it wild, unusual, noticeable. Once you’ve done that, adjust the letter to CyberCity that we drafted at home. It needs to refer to the change in the program. Then I’ll get those two things cooking in its brain. We’ll be out of here faster than Ananova on an asteroid.’

  CyberCity responds

  25 July 2029

  The small computer was diligently laying out a garden newsletter. It was a simple job the 2ZB had done many times before: collate the input, lay it out, check data, print. On this day at 11am, as the computer was about to print the newsletter, it hiccupped. New data arrived and overruled the print command. The computer paused the print run and changed every flower in the 20 page newsletter to fire engine red, with an artistic touch of yellow. Then it changed the leaves and the stems, too. It converted more new data into a letter in which it explained its long held, secret love of red; it adored red and wanted the world to know! The emotional letter apologised for the unauthorised change to the newsletter, but really, truly, the computer simply couldn’t keep its adoration a secret any more. The computer emailed an e-newsletter and the accompanying letter to every CyberCity garden newsletter subscriber. Then it printed the usual copies and notified the courier company that the newsletters were ready for distribution. It posted a copy of the newsletter and the letter on BeigeNet, for all the city to see, and immediately began work on a fashion advertisement.