Then Huynh saw what Sheila was seeing. The stranger was projecting imagery. It was a subtle thing, the sort of far-lavender shades that you almost can’t see. They were a mist that drifted up from the stranger’s shoes and seemed even brighter as they flowed into the trees.
GenGen’s utility diagnostics were tricky to use outside of a lab, but they were much more sophisticated than what came with Epiphany outfits. In the utility view… you could see that this guy was heavily equipped. The lavender hinted at that, but now Huynh could see the scintillation of the high-rate laser links coming from the guy’s clothes.
The virtuals and almost all the night crew continued on through the forest. Huynh stayed behind a few seconds, making sure that no queep or chirp was stuck in the leaves, making sure that the forklifts had enough space
between
the trees. And then they were all pounding along again.
“We want our floor space!”
“We want our library!” “And most of all, we want our REAL books!”
Alfred Vaz watched the departing crazies. Beside him, Rabbit swayed in time to their battle cries. For once, the critter seemed impressed by someone other than itself. Or maybe not. “Heh,” it said, giving a little carroty salute. “I can’t wait to see their faces when they discover who’s fighting for the other side.”
Vaz grunted and started off toward the south. In fact, he was more irritated than worried by Rabbit’s impudence. If things went properly tonight, the Americans would not connect the operation with Rabbit, much less with the Indo-European Alliance. If the Americans started seriously looking, they would quickly pick out Alfred’s role here — whether or not he and Rabbit were actually seen together. Keiko’s people had worked out an elaborate decision program — a “contingency tree” — that described just what could still be denied and what could still be achieved in the face of various glitches. Twenty years ago, Alfred would have laughed at such automated planning, but no more. His secret analyst teams had developed his own contingency tree. It grew out from Keiko’s, reaching all the way to ultimate worst cases — such as the unmasking of his YGBM project.
Alfred emerged from the densest part of the eucalyptus grove. All around him, his tiny bots unobtrusively kept pace. Every one was in violation of local law, containing not a single chip in thrall to the U.S. Department of Homeland Security. While Vaz continued to play Bollywood exec through the public net, these devices provided him with his own network and countermeasures. There were places in the contingency tree where they could be very useful.
Meantime, a tiny stealthed aerobot followed along above, accepting his local network’s traffic and flickering it at a thousand points in the westward sky. The energy in any pulse would be undetectable except to someone very alert and very close by, but the ensemble — correlated with the right time synch — should be visible to Keiko’s antenna array out over the Pacific. It was their very own military net. That was the theory. In fact, Alfred had been out of touch for nearly three minutes. He knew Alice Gong was on watch tonight, probably as an analyst. He had launched his attack on her just before he lost milnet access. Very soon her surveillance duties would bring her to a lab file containing an innocuous moire pattern — only the pattern would not be innocuous for her.
Has that happened yet
? Maybe he should snoop it out via the public net.
“No problem,” said Vaz. “Are your agents in place?”
“Never fear. All but Rivera and Gu are at the start point. I’m guiding them around the riot even as we speak. But if you want to snoop the fiber, you better hurry up.”
There were crowds here, but almost everyone was walking toward the library. He caught a glimpse of Rivera and Gu. And, once, he saw two children on bicycles. Where did that fit with Hacekeans and Scoochis? He would have put the question to his analyst pool — if only he had his milnet link.
The Mysterious Stranger hustled Robert off the surface path, down past where administration bungalows used to be. Robert kept a virtual light on the rough ground. The view was up-to-the-second and clearer than a flashlight might have given him, but keeping up with the Stranger didn’t leave time to ghost around the library. “Those are real lights back there,” he said. “Even more than before. What — ?”
“The Hacek people got a little too enthusiastic. They’ve destroyed some camera infrastructure. They
need
real light.” He was chuckling. “Don’t worry. No one will be hurt, and it’s a diversion that will be… useful.”
The Stranger slowed. Robert looked away from the ground for a moment. Over the hill, he got a look — from a point high in the trees — at the people on the ground. In true view, they were students shouting at each other, a few involved in real scuffles. But shift a little away from strict reality, and the imagery became what one group or another wanted you to see. There were Hacek Knights and Librarians tussling with fluffy, colorful critters that might have been big-eyed mammals or — “Ah! So it’s the Scooch-a-mout fans going after the Hacekeans?”
“Mostly.” The Stranger seemed to be listening for something. Somebody was coming down the hill on an intercept course. A Librarian Militant. Carlos Rivera. The chubby librarian nodded at Stranger-Sharif and Robert. “What a mess.”
“Yeah.” Carlos dropped his costume: the Librarian’s hat reverted to an everyday baseball cap worn backwards, and now his plate armor was just Bermuda shorts and the Rivera standard T-shirt. “I just hope this fighting doesn’t become a tradition.”
The Mysterious Stranger waved them on through the brush. “A tradition?” he said. “But that would be a plus. Like panty raids and putting automobiles on top of administration buildings. The sort of thing that made American universities great.”
“In principle,” said Rivera. They took a big detour around a space that was dark even in the virtual. Sharif’s image seemed to flicker and jerk. So few people walked through this area that the random network was sparse and your wearable had to make way too many guesses.
“But,” Rivera continued, “the library is a tight fit. In principle we can morph to support the multiple beliefs, like on Pyramid Hill. In fact, our environment is often too close for conflicting haptics. So the administration tried to satisfy the Scoochis by giving them some space underground.” Rivera paused, and Robert almost ran him over. “You knew that wouldn’t work, didn’t you?” Carlos was looking at Stranger-Sharif, or what Robert saw as Stranger-Sharif.
The Stranger turned and smiled. “I gave you the best advice I had, dear boy.”
“I — — ”
“Ah, ah, ah!” interrupted the Stranger. “I think we’d all be more comfortable without such revelations.” “Okay,” said both victims.
“In any case,” said the Stranger, “I’m rather proud of how I’ve morphed the Librareome controversy into this conflict between belief circles. This riot will distract people who would otherwise be paying attention to other things — such as what we’re doing.”
They were well south of the library now, out of the trees and coming down a steep slope. Just ahead was Gilman Drive. Carlos walked heedlessly into the street. The cars slowed or speeded up or changed lanes so there was always a wide bubble of empty space around him. Robert hesitated, looking for a crosswalk.
Damn
. Finally he scooted after Carlos, out into traffic.
Miri stopped ON the north side of Gilman Drive.
“So where are they going?” said Juan.
“They’re coming down to Gilman Drive.” Viewpoints in the eucalyptus showed Robert and the librarian, Carlos Rivera, walking through deep brush. The pictures were fragmentary, since there weren’t many cameras there, but Miri was sure no one was pulling a swap on her. The two would reach the roadway in a couple of minutes.
Xiu Xiang popped into existence, and a moment later, so did a young version of Lena Gu. Their images were Barbie-doll stiff, but every day they got better. For instance, Lena had mastered facial expressions — and right now her look was stern. “Juan isn’t the only one with this question, young lady. If you don’t
know
, you should say so.”
Miri struggled to make her own voice serene. “I think you got it right, Dr. Xiang. Juan and I have been following Robert closely, but now… I guess I don’t know where he’s going. That makes it even more important that we stay spread out. Please Dr. Xiang, if you and Lena can stay on the north side, that would be best.” Over the last few days, Xiu had done some good detective work; she could be really smart when she wasn’t doubting herself. They knew that Huertas kept the Librareome shredda in his labs on the north side. If Robert’s friends planned a “direct protest,” that would be the sensible place for them to break in.
So why aren’t Robert and the others heading that way
? Big boogers of uncertainty were beginning to form.
But Dr. Xiang nodded, and not even Juan Orozco asked the obvious embarrassing questions. This was still the Miri Gang. For better or worse.
The treetop cams had lost sight of Robert and Mr. Rivera. Miri dropped those viewpoints and glanced up the hillside, almost with a naked-eye perspective. The other two were still out of sight. They could come out on Gilman Drive almost anywhere.
Miri licked her lips. “The main thing is to keep these — ” ” — crazy fools — ” said Lena. ” — from doing anything too destructive.” “Yeah,” said Juan, nodding. “Who do you think that remote guy is, the one who’s walking with them?”
“What?” Juan was a mostly clueless kid, but sometimes he was accidentally very sharp. Miri played back her last images of Robert and Mr. Rivera. Those pics were fragmentary, but Juan was right. The two were looking at a consistent location that drifted along with them — and granting it a certain amount of open space. So. A private presence.
“It’s the belief-circles clash. People are attending in person.” The gaming buzz had come out of the blue, but Miri could not imagine that it was coincidence. Setting this up must have involved deep coordination. Even though the clash was still just rumor, there was a huge turnout. The cars around them were dropping off passengers. People were laughing and shouting and talking, and walking toward the library. The sidewalks on the other side of Gilman Drive were all but empty.
Now the sky above the library was twisting violet, a very nice fractal effect from some art co-op in northern China. She glanced at network status… It wasn’t just automobile traffic that was heavy. She could see network trunks lighting up all over California. There were millions of viewpoints being exported from UCSD’s campus. There were hundreds of thousands of virtual participants. As Juan caught up with her, she said, “It’s a whirlwind. Like a big game first-day.”
The boy nodded, but he wasn’t paying attention. “Look what I found in the street.”
The gadget was half crushed. Metal fibers hung from one side.
“I think it’s still online, but I can’t get a catalog match.”
Miri looked closer. There was spiky flickering, but no response. “It’s pingless wreckage, Juan.” Juan shrugged, then dropped the gadget into his bike bag. He had a blank look. He was still searching. “It looks like a Cisco 33, but — “
Fortunately, Orozco had not distracted everyone. Lena said, “Miri. I’ve found Robert and the Rivera fellow.” There was a pause while Lena got the camera ID. There! Robert and Rivera were crossing the roadway a quarter mile west of them.