The Major pushed the Colonel out of the way and got right back into Sanborn’s face. “Not authorized? Listen, you Ivy League prick, you don’t determine what is and isn’t authorized. Halperin isn’t your company, it’s the investors’ company. The last time I checked you didn’t found it. You’re not even a scientist. You’re just a trained business monkey that someone hired to crank an organ handle. So get back on our company jet like a good little monkey before someone sells you off for medical experiments.”
Sanborn’s face had gone from tanned to burning red as The Major’s fearsome visage got up close and personal—like a drill sergeant in basic training. Sanborn stepped back a pace. “I’m not a person who gets treated like this. You are making a mistake. I don’t know who you are, but your career is over. No one speaks to me like that.”
“Get the fuck out.”
“You have not—”
“OUT!”
Several armed KMSI soldiers suddenly appeared in the doorway, and the Colonel nodded toward Sanborn and his silent, Indian attorney. The guards made way and Sanborn led the way. “You haven’t heard the last of me.”
The Major said nothing, but only shut the office door behind them and proceeded toward the Colonel’s office. He stopped in the doorway and turned around.
Andriessen raised his eyebrows inquisitively.
“Colonel. Mr. Sanborn was ambushed by domestic insurgents on his way back home. Insurgents who were no doubt enraged at the lawsuits that he’s mounting against darknet communities throughout the Midwest. I’ll see that a psyops officer contacts your people for the proper news spin on his untimely death to ensure maximum usefulness to ongoing operations.”
The Colonel nodded. “It’s a bloody tragedy. Mr. Sanborn will be missed.” He nodded to his assistant, who picked up the phone.
The Major entered the office, let the Colonel enter, and then closed the door behind them. The Major looked the place over as an aging air conditioner labored to keep the place cool in the stifling Midwestern heat. There wasn’t even a computer or a map in the place.
The Major sat down on the edge of the desk. “Rules of Engagement for darknet communities are as follows: kill everyone you find, burn every structure, and destroy every vehicle. Without exception. The knowledge and equipment that makes these communities work must be eradicated. The cultural memory that they ever existed must be erased. Is that understood?”
The Colonel nodded, poker-faced. “Yes, sir.”
“Don’t forget storm cellars and culverts. Any hiding place.” The Colonel nodded solemnly.
“As for tactics, the irregular forces will prevent civilians from escaping, while your forces move through town destroying everything in their path. Psyops units will be filming as needed. It’s important that they get some footage that resembles an operation to dislodge an insurgent occupation. I expect the residents will oblige us by resisting with force, but if not, your men should facilitate that imagery.”
“That’s a formal objective?”
“It is. One other thing, Colonel.”
“Yes, sir?”
“I’m sending a special unit into one of the target areas. It’s a detachment out of Weyburn Labs. No one may inspect their equipment. Their mission is classified and reports directly to me. It takes priority over any other objective. Do I make myself clear?”
“Crystal clear, sir. I’ll make sure the men understand. What target is your team being sent to?”
“Greeley, Iowa.”
Chapter 30: // Quarantine
Pete Sebeck stood in a fabrication shop in Greeley, Iowa, watching a selective laser sintering machine print a tractor part out of metal powder. The car-sized machine used laser-generated heat to fuse the powder into a metal solid based on a digital 3-D model. The proprietor of the shop, a thirteenth-level Fabricator named Hedly, monitored the process through a tinted window.
Sebeck stood behind him listening to Diving Bruce, an “Ozzie” eleventh-level Entrepreneur, who’d come all the way from Melbourne to see what was going on in towns like Greeley. Sebeck found himself in more and more of these demonstrations as he and Price scoured the town for some idea of why the Thread brought them here.
The Australian talked with passionate intensity. “When the Daemon infected our networks, I saw it for what it was, yes? A bloody opportunity.”
Sebeck raised his eyebrows. “Even though it was stealing from you?”
“Stealing? Yes, but it was a wake-up call, too. It changed the game for everyone, didn’t it? Not just me. I realized I couldn’t have long supply chains. It would punish me—and my competitors—for doing that. That’s a level playing field. The Destroy function it installed in our network is like a hand grenade pin that anyone can pull—a ticking clock forcing us to migrate to a more sustainable, less complex system. And besides . . .” He gestured to the machines around them. “This is the future. It makes no bloody sense to transport parts thousands of miles. Creating them to-order like this from raw materials—metal powders or Arboform granules—that’s the market, mate. There are other machines that can produce circuitry from printed, flexible material. It’s a bloody third Industrial Revolution, isn’t it?”
Sebeck saw Jon Ross approaching from the shop’s open-bay entrance. Ross passed a D-Space object to Sebeck and nearby Laney Price. It appeared as an aerial photo floating next to them.
Bruce was still talking, apparently unable to see their private layer. “I’m no bloody tree-hugger. I have no intention of living in an effing yurt and milking cows each morning. Just look up at that colossal energy whore in the sky and tell me there’s an energy shortage. The sun uses up more energy in a second than mankind has used in all its history. We just need to get at it.” He ticked off items on his hands. “Solar carpet—replacing expensive platinum catalysts with metal oxides—gallium solar paint—copper indium gallium selenide—”
“Sergeant . . .” Price frowned as he examined the aerial photo.
“Excuse us, Bruce. I think something’s come up.”
Bruce extended his hand and shook Sebeck’s and Price’s enthusiastically. “Brilliant! Best of luck on your quest, and don’t forget if any darknet reporter asks you, we’re going to be replicating this shop in Queensland come December. Cheers, mate!”
Price pulled Sebeck away and they joined up with Ross near the doorway.
Sebeck shrugged. “What’s going on?”
Ross jabbed at the photo that was following them around in D-Space. “Just look. They’re encircling us.”
“Who is?”
“Serious people.”
Sebeck studied the image. “Where did you get this?”
We have two security drones orbiting this county, and we’ve come under aerial surveillance ourselves.”
“What am I looking at?”
“Let’s find a more private place to talk.” Ross motioned for them to follow. They exited the micro-fabrication shop and moved along the crowded sidewalk. Everyone looked busy on some private errand, but even as they walked, they could see news was traveling quickly through the townspeople. Photos, videos, and messages were flying through the darknet.