“How far till we’re in enemy territory?” said Robert. Miri held a finger up to her lips. She gestured, and silent messaging paraded across his vision.
Miri walked in almost perfect silence, and Robert tried to imitate her. In fact, with Winston and the others gone, things were very quiet in Huertas country. Maybe they were as alone as the Mysterious Stranger had claimed, shielded from friends and enemies alike.
Miri must have been reading as they walked. More sming appeared. Miri — > Robert:
(l)To blow up the bio labs, classic straightforward terrorism. But don’t you think he went to rather a lot of trouble if that’s all he wants to do? It would be a gross under-employment of everyone’s talent. If this is the scam, you will be the heroes of the day, my hands in disabling those little boxes you and your friends planted — but your fame will likely be posthumous. My condolences!
(3)To install (or cover) some fiendishly clever Man-in-the-Middle software that gives Alfred de facto ownership of research done in that part of lab that you, Robert, infested for him. This would be cool, and it is my personal favorite (see my discussion of fruit flies in Chapter 3). Unfortunately for Alfred, this caper is so far blown that I doubt it will survive the audits that will surely come raining down. In this case, you two can help by grabbing anything that Alfred has not yet hidden.
[Diagram of the pneumo tube transport system] [Picture of GenGen’s UP/Ex launcher]
To what end? Oh, the usual terrorist possibilities — but more likely, something weird and interesting. I’m confident I can identify such activity, and you — my loyal hands — can physically prevent the loading and outshipment.
Miri’s words were overwriting the text even before Robert finished reading it.
Miri — > Robert:
She glanced up at him and for instant her intensity was transformed into a dazzling smile. Miri — > Robert:
Robert — > Miri:
Miri — > Robert:
Robert — > Miri:
Because of the magic he promised
. But he didn’t type that out.
Miri — > Robert:
Robert — > Miri:
Miri — > Robert:
Where is tyranny when you need it
! For a moment, Robert couldn’t think of anything to say. Robert — > Miri:
Miri stopped for a second, looked up at him with that patented stubborn stare.
Miri — > Robert:
Robert managed a nod. Miri turned and marched on.
Miri — > Robert:
There were surprises in almost every one of Miri’s sentences, and if he could have spoken aloud or typed freely he would have asked a hundred questions. Juan? Xiu Xiang? Miri? So many friends, doing so much to save an incompetent old fool and his fellow fools.
Even on a slow day, thousands of certificates got revoked every hour. It was a messy process, but a necessary consequence of frauds detected, court orders executed, and credit denied. All but a handful of revocations were short cascades of denied transactions, involving a single individual and his/her immediate certificate authority, or a small company and its CA. Perhaps once a year there would be a significant cascade, usually when a large company ran into uncompromising creditors and a court order was delivered to a midlevel CA. Even more rarely, a revocation might be part of a military action, as in the fall of South Ossetia. In theory, the revocation protocols worked with arbitrarily large CAs… but until this night, no apex certificate authority had ever issued global revocations. And Credit Suisse was one of the ten largest CAs in the world. Most of its business was in Europe, but its certificates bound webs of unmeasured complexity all over the planet, affecting the interactions of people who might speak no European language.
Tonight all those unknowing customers would learn of their connection. The failures spread as timeouts on certificates from intermediate CAs and — where time-critical trust was involved — as direct notifications. In Europe, airplanes and trains came smoothly to a stop, without a single accident or fatality. A billion failures were noted, and emergency services moved — with varying success — into action.
The U.S. Department of Homeland Security noticed the failures and the growing collateral damage. Analyst pools in the U.S. reached out to the other Great Powers and conferred under emergency protocols established years ago. Chinese Public Safety, the Indo-European intelligence services, the U.S. DHS — they all agreed that a category-one disaster was in progress, a really
bad
software failure or a novel terrorist attack.
So far there were only small failures at UCSD, just a few certificates timing out. That was enough to make some projections: The crowds had not consciously noticed the changes, but the library riot was due for an abrupt and ignominious end. Even more than the analysts had guessed, Rabbit had been behind what they had seen tonight, and now that support was rotting away.
Rabbit was under pressure. He always told himself that he performed best under pressure — though usually the pressure was not so immediate, nor his opponents so powerful and humorless. Other than some of the low-ranking analysts, Rabbit didn’t know anyone on the Indo-European side who could take a joke.
Rabbit looked out through a dozen cameras, everything that Alfred had suborned in the MCog area. His hands had entered the area just a few moments before; maybe that was what had panicked his enemies into their massive revocation attack. With a small and dwindling part of his attention he followed the wonderful riot around the library. Sigh. Alfred & Co had never guessed his connection with Scooch-a-mout, and yet… Who’d’a thunk they’d detect his affection for Credit Suisse CA? Or that the EU had such power over the certificate authority of a sovereign country?… Or that his own dependence was as broad as he was now discovering?
Rabbit had other apex CAs, though none so useful as Credit Suisse. They would suffice for a few more minutes. Where they didn’t, he had legal programs posting appeals against the most destructive of the revocations.
Meantime, focus on the fun things: What was Alfred trying do do? Sheer destruction? Intellectual theft? Rabbit was beginning to feel mean. He had been willing to settle for a secret back door into Alfred’s operation. Now, well, now he meant to steal it all. Starting with the fruit flies.
Robert remembered this area. They were back in the heart of GenGen country, the unending rows of gray cabinets, the crystal forests that connected them, the pneumo tubes. But up ahead was a sound like cardboard boxes being crushed.
The Stranger’s pdf had explanations for the abbreviations that were printed on the sides of the cabinets:
Dros MCog
“Hey, hey, my man!” And there was the Mysterious Stranger, Miri’s Mr. Smart-Aleck. His skin was practically glowing green, even in the shadows. The face was Sharif’s but the smile was inhumanly wide. “Talk as you please. Alfred discovered us here several minutes ago.” The Stranger looked around, as if expecting a visible enemy. “So now I don’t care if he hears you. Or me! What can you do, Alfred? You’re shutting me down, but I wager I’ll last another minute or two. Oh, I suppose you could shut down your own operation, too. I’d be instantly gone then.” He glanced back at Miri and Robert, and continued sotto voce. “If he does that, he’s truly desperate. And it won’t help him a bit, since you still have my pdf.
You’ll
still be here to destroy his underhanded plans.”
The Mysterious Stranger waved for them to follow. “Did you get to this part of my explanation?” He waved at the cabinets. “Molecular Biology of Cognition. MCog. And Alfred’s people have created the ideal animal model for their research.”
“Ah, Miri, you read but you don’t understand. If you had access just now to the wider net — and a few hundred hours of research — perhaps you’d understand that molecular biology depends more on data depth and analysis than it does on the particular class of organism. In his
Drosophila melanogaster alfredü
— is that what you call them, Alfred? — we have the metabolic pathways that are the basis for all animal cognition.”
Minus the editorial comments, this did look like some of the pdf.
They rounded a corner and saw the source of the sounds.
”
Viola
, Alfred’s three hundred thousand fruit flies, now being folded into convenient shipping cartridges.” The Stranger’s face and body bore less and less resemblance to the original Sharif. “But I must confess — I know what these little bugs are, but I don’t really know what Alfred has planned for them. Surely there are some marvelous diseases — cognitive diseases? — that might come out of such research. Or maybe he wants to get a head start on all the enhancement-drug people. Or maybe he’s into YGBM. But I do know — “
The fruit-fly arrays were being folded on a large transport table, much bigger than anything in Ron Williams’s shop class. The shipping cylinders rolled across the table, right through the Stranger’s body. The creature noticed this a half second late, but did a creditable hop back from the table.
“But I do know that he’s trying to ship them off-site.”
“So you claim.”