43 | RESISTANCE
Jaggard stood up as the doors to the control room slid smoothly open. A pudgy, gray-haired man in a dark blue suit entered, escorted by security. The face did not match the hair. He looked no older than thirty-five and was either prematurely gray or very young-faced for his actual age.
Jaggard crossed to the door and shook the man’s hand before addressing the room.
“Listen up. This is Bill Gasgoine, the new Oversight Committee representative,” Jaggard said.
Most of the shift stopped work, and a few stood up, as a way of greeting the man.
As the replacement for Swamp Witch, it wouldn’t be long before he had a nickname of his own, Jaggard thought. And with a surname like Gasgoine, he rather suspected it would be something like “Swamp Gas.”
“Situation report?” Gasgoine asked.
Jaggard turned to Socks, as he was the ranking officer with both Dodge and Vienna off-line.
“The attack occurred seven days ago and lasted for twenty-four hours,” Socks said. “The virus simply reversed itself. It was a crypto-virus and—”
“I got the etymology report,” Gasgoine interrupted. “That’s not why I’m here. The committee wants to know about the social effects.”
“Yes, sir,” Socks said. “Please sit down and connect; I’ll feed you some images.”
Jaggard found Gasgoine a chair and a neuro-headset and got one for himself, then shut his eyes to receive the images.
“It began with the CNN bulletin,” Socks said, relaying a clip from the bulletin. “The traitors hacked into the teleprompter system and inserted a fake story about a neuro-virus.”
“Why would they do that?” Gasgoine asked.
“Our best guess is that they wanted to panic people,” Jaggard said. “At this stage, it is not clear why.”
Socks continued, “Whatever their reasons, it worked. When systems came back online, a lot of neuro-users refused to reconnect.”
“Paranoia is a powerful thing,” Jaggard said.
“A lot of people were just being cautious,” Socks said. “But since then, neuro-usage has been climbing steadily. Currently, we’re sitting around one hundred seventy percent. Or nearly double the number of users prior to the attack.”
Gasgoine was quiet for a moment, making some mental notes, Jaggard thought, which would be immediately reported back to the Oversight Committee.
“So what is this talk about ‘resistance’?” Gasgoine asked.
Jaggard hesitated. “There is a segment of the population who still believes that there is a neuro-virus,” he said. “That the people who are connected are infected. There are a number of groups forming all over the country to protest against neuro-technology.”
“How do we convince them that it’s safe?” Gasgoine asked.
“The only way to prove there is no danger is to neuro-connect them,” Kiwi said.
“Of course, they will think we are just trying to infect them,” Jaggard said.
Gasgoine managed a tight-lipped smile.
“The biggest problem is in the Midwest,” Socks said, feeding a map of the United States into the neuro- headsets, “where the take-up of neuro-technology was slow in the first place. A lot of neuro-phobic people have been heading there. Neuro-connections are banned outright in Colorado, Kansas, and Iowa.”
“There have already been a number of clashes between the neuro-phobes and the neuro-users,” Jaggard said. “We’ve kept that out of the news to avoid instigating more of it. But some of the clashes have turned violent. We’ve mobilized the National Guard in seven states now to keep a lid on things.”
“And your three missing agents? The
“Nothing yet,” Socks said. “But this is America. There are cameras everywhere. There is twenty-four-hour satellite coverage of the entire country. There are cell phone cameras and webcams. If any of them use a telephone, we’ll get an alert off the voiceprint.”
“What if they’re not in America?” Gasgoine asked.
“They didn’t have time to get out of the country,” Jaggard said. “They’re here somewhere.”
“It’s just a game of hide-and-seek,” Socks said. “But we’ll find them. Sooner or later.”
44 | TOYS
There was a strange kind of peace under the gritty smoke sky, amidst the desolation and loneliness of Vegas.
Sam sat alone on a plush leather sofa in the massive living room that looked out on a swimming pool. The pool was an oval shape with a diving board at one end. But it was empty, dry. A reminder of a city that had once been overflowing with human spirit and was now just a desert dust bowl once again.
The sun had gone down an hour ago, and the sky was gradually turning from dirty gray to morose black.
A few months ago, he had been a schoolboy in New York City. The place he had lived since his birth. Week after week had been basically the same. Attending class. Hanging out with Fargas. Eating meals with his mom.
But since then, it seemed he had been caught up in a hurricane, whirling from one thing to another with scarcely enough time to catch a breath. Perhaps that was good. Because if he stopped and took the time to think about things too deeply, dark thoughts started to intrude.
The door to the living room opened and Vienna emerged. Sam watched her walk over, noticing, not for the first time, the sway of her hips and the little movements her hands made as she walked. She had been different since arriving in Vegas, he thought. Softer. But he remained wary, feeling that she was still just as likely to cut him in two with a withering glance or a sharp-bladed comment.
“It’s been two weeks,” Vienna said, sitting on the other end of the sofa.
“I know,” Sam agreed. “How’s Dodge doing?”
“Says he’s just about finished.”
Sam nodded. If the software was ready, then it was time to move. To make a last run for the safety of Cheyenne Mountain. But what would they find out there in the real world? The same electronic isolation that kept them safe from Ursula meant that they were blind to events outside.
Anything could have happened in the weeks since they had cut themselves off from civilization. Or nothing.
He felt safe here. And the house was more comfortable than anything he was used to, even the hotel in San Jose, although he was getting sick of canned food. But they couldn’t stay here forever. Ursula would find them eventually; he was sure of that.
Sam looked for a moment at the girl sitting next to him, and on an impulse said, “Tell me something about you, Vienna.”
“Why?” she asked, and he could feel the shutters going up instantly.
“No reason,” he said quickly. “It’s just that I’ve worked with you for the last few months, and we’ve been together almost constantly for the last couple of weeks, but I just realized that I don’t know anything about you.”
“Good,” she said, but then her voice softened a little. “You first.”
