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Itty Bitty Bigger World: Hook Up
Dec. 2nd, 2014 04:15 am"So, Doctor, I assume that everything we know about this pathogen is up on the Net? Agent, you've been continuously updating the Threat Trackers group, correct?"
They both looked surprised as they started to say variations on "No."
"The most powerful force in San San is a newsgroup of pissed-off hobbyists. Someone has a new neuropathogen? Set the geeks loose on it and they'll unhack it in twenty minutes. Not to mention UC will publish it for you, if a little slower, and I have no doubt CHP has called them already. Someone wants to play Galactic Overlord? I believe the Henchman Prizes are still offered. I'll go one better - one billion processor credits to the person or people who provide the information which takes our Somebody down."
They still looked surprised.
"I do believe even a TLF zealot would sell out his cause for a billion... with that kind of power, he could grow his own island and live on it like a prince for as long as his genetics hold out. Once I post a reward for a billion, others will match it within hours."
Their faces turned mulish.
"You guys think too much like a government -- but let's be blunt, the United States Government is just another hobby group. Pull out the big guns."
It seemed appropriate that the good Doctor would be giving me the bad news.
"He's already threatened us. If we go public, he transmits."
"So he needs us to know about him for some reason... to protect his freedom of action for him. That settles one question. He's an old-timer like me. He still thinks governments are good for something. Time to burst his bubble."
With that, I turned and walked down the corridor, headed nowhere in particular. I would find a door, which under fire safety laws would open, and then another, and then another, and then I would be back on public sidewalk in San San, at which point I would unleash the hounds.
They followed.
"You're going to risk the lives of billions of people?" the agent gasped out as he walked..
"No, he already is. He wants us to stay silent. What better reason to speak out?"
"What if he sends the go code?"
"He could do that at any time. But if we can let people know, we get some time ... if we keep it secret, he picks the timing. This is the right way to go about it. If he's asleep, we could get as much as six hours lead warning on this SOB."
I opened a data link using my smartware and subvocalization.
It chirped for my ears only that it felt it was being jammed.
Interesting.
So when I reached a stairwell, I headed upstairs rather than down towards what was once the street. I need to chat with someone, badly.
Fourth floor - COURTS. So I walked out of the stairwell, down a hallway with two or three lawyer-hobbyists and maybe an actual plaintiff in it, and towards the door marked "CLERK OF THE COURT."
Said Clerk was a no-nonsense woman with her hair tied up in a tight bun, and a frown on her face.
"May I help you?"
"I need to meet with the Duty Judge. It's an emergency. Agent Scones and Doctor Butter here will confirm."
They reluctantly nodded. Obviously she knew who they were, but had no idea who I was. That would change.
"One moment, sir." My ware noticed her ware making a communication. "Courtroom #3."
We accordingly tromped over to Courtroom #3. My ware shared an opinion that it might be able to punch through an emergency message. I passed for now.
The Judge glared at the Agent, rolled his eyes at the Doctor and pasted a professional smile on his face for me.
"How can I help you, sir?"
"According to this guy," I jerked a thumb, "I've been elected SecDef. As a joke it's not funny. If it's real I need to be sworn in."
The Judge nodded, motioned for me to put my hand on a book, and started reciting.
Well, hell, apparently my position was for real. I took the oath as administered.
"Thank you, Your Honor. Now I need to ask you for three favors."
"Yes, Secretary?"
"Introduce me to the Federal Protective Services Marines, now US Marines, so that they take my orders. Vouch for me on the uplink while I order these gentlemen to update the Net with what they are dealing with. Tell whatever the USG uses for IT that I'm now a fairly powerful authorized user on the USG intranet."
The Judge subvocalized quickly.
My ware informed me that not only was it no longer jammed, but that I had been granted superuser access for the Federal Building and a really ridiculous number of archaic database accesses. A security subgroup of the same software indicated that a FPS Marine battlesuit was on its way up the stairs. About a hundred media groups which had been clamoring for interviews with me suddenly found "Access Granted - Video" instead of "Denied - Privacy" and bum-rushed the video link.
"Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Alan Anderson. I have been asked by the hobbyist group US Government to take up the position of Secretary of Defense. Those of you who are history buffs will recognize that this is unprecedented. I have with me three other Federal hobbyists with important information for biopathogens, Threat Trackers and Henchman Prize seekers. I am also offering one billion credits of processor time for information leading to the apprehension of the person or persons responsible for electromagnetic weaponization of the specified biopathogen. Cross reference Quincy Towers, CHP biopathogen outbreak earlier today, threats to hobbyist groups, induced brain cancer and Terra Liberation Front."
Talk about throwing a bone to a group of hungry wolves. Media interest surged immediately to over a thousand groups with approximately sixty thousand subscribers.
Prompted -- and put on the spot -- the doctor and the judge and the agent started speaking quickly. Media numbers kept growing.
The battlesuited Marine reported. The Judge directed him to me.
"Alan Anderson, SecDef. How many suits defending this building?"
"Six."
"We're about to get smacked. Hard. Probably effect weapon."
"We've GOT to get outside." With that the Marine ran, shaking the furniture and unlimbering his ordinance. I called Emergency.
"Sergeant Anderson police reserve calling Flashpoint Rampart Trinity. Say again, Flashpoint Rampart Trinity."
A tactical graphic showed aircraft on the move, both Combat Air Patrol and a dedicated intercept reserve. CHP had already maximized unit availability. The ground lit with interdiction icons -- CHP troopers had discreetly been spreading themselves out within a six block radius of both buildings. Perhaps it was neither my monkey nor my circus -- but the organ grinder and I knew the music.
If the bad guy went to guns, he would find that the government services node of San San - San Jose was an amazingly tough node to crack.
My smartware delivered three priority messages, short form. A doctor at UC Stanford wanted me to come immediately to see my friend Amy. Bao alerted me that his supplier had come up with six cases of SPAM and did I want him to save a case for me? A personnel manager in the San San police reserve program congratulated me on my promotion to Captain (Rsrv.)
My feet carried me towards the exit. The Federal hobbyists stayed, distracted by the media messaging I was steadfastly ignoring. I called Bao on audiolink.
"Ah, Alan, how are you?"
"Been better. A whole case, eh?"
"Yes, a whole case! Amazing what can happen on such short notice, yes? Especially when billions of credits are moving. I am told that one of my other customers matches your reward. His friends and my friends and all of our friends are very interested in Threat Tracking. Bad for business! You come see me soon, good hot dogs, lots of nitrates!"
Click.
Two battlesuits caught up with me. "Sir?" one of them cried desperately. "If you go out there we can't protect you!"
Quite right. The suits were limited to the property line. The only ones who could carry heavy ordinance into public cubic were on duty...
I glanced at them with my ware.
"Under my authority as a Police Reserve Captain of the San San Police, I hereby designate Federal Protective Service US Marines to be reserve peace officers on duty and in full gear. Private Evans and Corporal Young, you are reserve San San police officers under my orders. Come with me."
Their battlesuits did not suddenly stop working at the property line, so the San San systems accepted my decision. Although I'd be getting a few thousand angry E-mails about it later. If there was a later.
The three of us boarded a capsule. I subvocalized a destination and it took off -- unmarked at maximum priority.
"Where are we going, sir?"
"UC Stanford. I need to visit a friend."
They both looked surprised as they started to say variations on "No."
"The most powerful force in San San is a newsgroup of pissed-off hobbyists. Someone has a new neuropathogen? Set the geeks loose on it and they'll unhack it in twenty minutes. Not to mention UC will publish it for you, if a little slower, and I have no doubt CHP has called them already. Someone wants to play Galactic Overlord? I believe the Henchman Prizes are still offered. I'll go one better - one billion processor credits to the person or people who provide the information which takes our Somebody down."
They still looked surprised.
"I do believe even a TLF zealot would sell out his cause for a billion... with that kind of power, he could grow his own island and live on it like a prince for as long as his genetics hold out. Once I post a reward for a billion, others will match it within hours."
Their faces turned mulish.
"You guys think too much like a government -- but let's be blunt, the United States Government is just another hobby group. Pull out the big guns."
It seemed appropriate that the good Doctor would be giving me the bad news.
"He's already threatened us. If we go public, he transmits."
"So he needs us to know about him for some reason... to protect his freedom of action for him. That settles one question. He's an old-timer like me. He still thinks governments are good for something. Time to burst his bubble."
With that, I turned and walked down the corridor, headed nowhere in particular. I would find a door, which under fire safety laws would open, and then another, and then another, and then I would be back on public sidewalk in San San, at which point I would unleash the hounds.
They followed.
"You're going to risk the lives of billions of people?" the agent gasped out as he walked..
"No, he already is. He wants us to stay silent. What better reason to speak out?"
"What if he sends the go code?"
"He could do that at any time. But if we can let people know, we get some time ... if we keep it secret, he picks the timing. This is the right way to go about it. If he's asleep, we could get as much as six hours lead warning on this SOB."
I opened a data link using my smartware and subvocalization.
It chirped for my ears only that it felt it was being jammed.
Interesting.
So when I reached a stairwell, I headed upstairs rather than down towards what was once the street. I need to chat with someone, badly.
Fourth floor - COURTS. So I walked out of the stairwell, down a hallway with two or three lawyer-hobbyists and maybe an actual plaintiff in it, and towards the door marked "CLERK OF THE COURT."
Said Clerk was a no-nonsense woman with her hair tied up in a tight bun, and a frown on her face.
"May I help you?"
"I need to meet with the Duty Judge. It's an emergency. Agent Scones and Doctor Butter here will confirm."
They reluctantly nodded. Obviously she knew who they were, but had no idea who I was. That would change.
"One moment, sir." My ware noticed her ware making a communication. "Courtroom #3."
We accordingly tromped over to Courtroom #3. My ware shared an opinion that it might be able to punch through an emergency message. I passed for now.
The Judge glared at the Agent, rolled his eyes at the Doctor and pasted a professional smile on his face for me.
"How can I help you, sir?"
"According to this guy," I jerked a thumb, "I've been elected SecDef. As a joke it's not funny. If it's real I need to be sworn in."
The Judge nodded, motioned for me to put my hand on a book, and started reciting.
Well, hell, apparently my position was for real. I took the oath as administered.
"Thank you, Your Honor. Now I need to ask you for three favors."
"Yes, Secretary?"
"Introduce me to the Federal Protective Services Marines, now US Marines, so that they take my orders. Vouch for me on the uplink while I order these gentlemen to update the Net with what they are dealing with. Tell whatever the USG uses for IT that I'm now a fairly powerful authorized user on the USG intranet."
The Judge subvocalized quickly.
My ware informed me that not only was it no longer jammed, but that I had been granted superuser access for the Federal Building and a really ridiculous number of archaic database accesses. A security subgroup of the same software indicated that a FPS Marine battlesuit was on its way up the stairs. About a hundred media groups which had been clamoring for interviews with me suddenly found "Access Granted - Video" instead of "Denied - Privacy" and bum-rushed the video link.
"Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Alan Anderson. I have been asked by the hobbyist group US Government to take up the position of Secretary of Defense. Those of you who are history buffs will recognize that this is unprecedented. I have with me three other Federal hobbyists with important information for biopathogens, Threat Trackers and Henchman Prize seekers. I am also offering one billion credits of processor time for information leading to the apprehension of the person or persons responsible for electromagnetic weaponization of the specified biopathogen. Cross reference Quincy Towers, CHP biopathogen outbreak earlier today, threats to hobbyist groups, induced brain cancer and Terra Liberation Front."
Talk about throwing a bone to a group of hungry wolves. Media interest surged immediately to over a thousand groups with approximately sixty thousand subscribers.
Prompted -- and put on the spot -- the doctor and the judge and the agent started speaking quickly. Media numbers kept growing.
The battlesuited Marine reported. The Judge directed him to me.
"Alan Anderson, SecDef. How many suits defending this building?"
"Six."
"We're about to get smacked. Hard. Probably effect weapon."
"We've GOT to get outside." With that the Marine ran, shaking the furniture and unlimbering his ordinance. I called Emergency.
"Sergeant Anderson police reserve calling Flashpoint Rampart Trinity. Say again, Flashpoint Rampart Trinity."
A tactical graphic showed aircraft on the move, both Combat Air Patrol and a dedicated intercept reserve. CHP had already maximized unit availability. The ground lit with interdiction icons -- CHP troopers had discreetly been spreading themselves out within a six block radius of both buildings. Perhaps it was neither my monkey nor my circus -- but the organ grinder and I knew the music.
If the bad guy went to guns, he would find that the government services node of San San - San Jose was an amazingly tough node to crack.
My smartware delivered three priority messages, short form. A doctor at UC Stanford wanted me to come immediately to see my friend Amy. Bao alerted me that his supplier had come up with six cases of SPAM and did I want him to save a case for me? A personnel manager in the San San police reserve program congratulated me on my promotion to Captain (Rsrv.)
My feet carried me towards the exit. The Federal hobbyists stayed, distracted by the media messaging I was steadfastly ignoring. I called Bao on audiolink.
"Ah, Alan, how are you?"
"Been better. A whole case, eh?"
"Yes, a whole case! Amazing what can happen on such short notice, yes? Especially when billions of credits are moving. I am told that one of my other customers matches your reward. His friends and my friends and all of our friends are very interested in Threat Tracking. Bad for business! You come see me soon, good hot dogs, lots of nitrates!"
Click.
Two battlesuits caught up with me. "Sir?" one of them cried desperately. "If you go out there we can't protect you!"
Quite right. The suits were limited to the property line. The only ones who could carry heavy ordinance into public cubic were on duty...
I glanced at them with my ware.
"Under my authority as a Police Reserve Captain of the San San Police, I hereby designate Federal Protective Service US Marines to be reserve peace officers on duty and in full gear. Private Evans and Corporal Young, you are reserve San San police officers under my orders. Come with me."
Their battlesuits did not suddenly stop working at the property line, so the San San systems accepted my decision. Although I'd be getting a few thousand angry E-mails about it later. If there was a later.
The three of us boarded a capsule. I subvocalized a destination and it took off -- unmarked at maximum priority.
"Where are we going, sir?"
"UC Stanford. I need to visit a friend."
