His next step was to get his systems officers actively looking for the data breach. Just as Transport had been scouring the digital world looking for Dawn, TRACE’s spiders now went on the hunt for the leak in their own system. Amos knew all about back doors and the damage they could cause. In fact, he’d been the first one to find the back door in the original TRID system. Since that time, he and his programmers—including Dawn Beachy—had regularly infiltrated Transport’s system and used it to gain tactical superiority (or at least parity) in their fight with the government. Then when the BICE system was first introduced, it was intended to be a completely sterile environment—free from any flaws or bugs that could be exploited by the resistance. But that, like every such plan, was a fantasy. Amos, Dawn, and other techs sympathetic to the resistance had riddled the system with back doors and hacks—so much so that, in most cases, Transport didn’t even know that a good portion of the data sent through the BICE system at any one time flowed directly through portals and hubs run by TRACE.
The whole thing reminded Amos of a story he’d read about as a young man. An actual event that had really happened in the history of espionage. In 1969, the United States government rather unwisely entered a contract with their Cold War enemy, the Soviets, to build a new American embassy in Moscow. In order to speed the job along, and in the spirit of détente that existed at the time, in 1972 the Americans agreed to allow the Russians to build the embassy. The result was not just the most sophisticated bugging of a building in all of history (before the BICE enterprise, anyway). It wasn’t just that there were listening and recording devices throughout the building; that might have even been expected. And it wasn’t just that there were other, more difficult-to-discover bugs actually built into the building. The result was that, taken altogether, the entire structure became a huge radio device that could broadcast every single spoken and written communication taking place in the building to Soviet intelligence. The building itself could not be salvaged or fixed. Sophisticated new spying technologies, some that had never been known to exist before, were actually built into concrete structures, in supporting walls, and through the concrete floors. The new U.S. embassy did not have bugs. The embassy itself was a bug.
American intelligence knew that a bugging operation was going on, but their arrogance convinced them that once they had full access to the building, they’d be able to find and remove or neutralize all of the devices. As is often the case when institutional hubris is involved, they completely misjudged the enormity of their problem.
This situation roughly equated with what TRACE had been able to do with the TRID and BICE systems. But now it seemed the tables might be turned. TRACE had always used technology as an ancillary or support element in their war against Transport. Advanced technology was just another tool. Sometimes it even became a second front. But things were different now. With TRACE producing their own ships and increasingly relying on cyberwar as an element of their war plans, the SOMA had to be worried about his own systems being hacked and used against him. Maybe, like when the Americans had eventually learned about their embassy, it was already too late.
Well, he thought to himself, the geeks should be on our side, so at least we can rely on them—
As soon as he thought it, he knew it was wrong. When we’re on top, some of them will defect back to Transport. If they haven’t done so already. Among programmers and geeks there are always rebels—even rebels that rebel against the rebellion. Counter-revolution is revolution’s fickle twin. His shadow. Instability is the geek’s favorite environment, and anarchy is their oxygen. Now Amos made a mental note of what he’d learned. For decades his mantra had been that within every technological advancement lie the seeds of tyranny and slavery. Now, in his heart, he codified its natural consequent: any society or government that relies too heavily on technology will find itself perched perilously on a crumbling precipice over the valley of death and destruction. In the new world, the geeks had become gods—or devils, depending on how you looked at it. Perspective is everything after all.
The bombing of the City, the weak and transparent probing action near the shelf, and the half-hearted attack on the Tulsa… all of these things were pointing to the fact that somehow, he was missing something. Something rather large. All of this added to the pressure of trying to win the war while still maintaining his identity and humanity.
Sometimes he felt like he’d give anything to go back and just be Amish. If only there were a button he could push that would erase all of the technology and put everyone back on the farm for a few thousand years. Make them fight with rocks and sticks again, if they must fight.
I have such a button, he thought, and then shook his head. Okcillium gave him this power. He inhaled deeply and then exhaled.
Despotism and genocide are born in moments like this.
Amos examined the thin sheet of plastic handed to him by an ensign. The latest field reports. Most of the units engaging in surface operations did not have implanted BICE chips, and had to communicate through officers staged in base camps. He dropped the plastic sheet in a trash receptacle. The sheet display wouldn’t work for anyone but him, because it was EYES ONLY and was activated by his own BICE.
Most of the ground units east of the Shelf—between there and the AZ—were now functionally out of the fight. Transport wasn’t operating in the east anymore. Of course, that didn’t mean that their field agents and insurgency units weren’t still operating. Just as TRACE had once had resistance fighters and spies in place throughout the City, they also now had agents embedded in all the cities on the Shelf. East of the shelf though, everyone was just waiting. And there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that Transport was now the insurgency in the east.
Amos looked at the ensign and nodded. “Activate Rayburn’s people and get him to a communication deck. I want to talk to him myself.”
The ensign nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“That’ll be all.”
“Yes, sir.”
When the ensign was gone, Amos popped another Q tablet and sat back in his chair. He didn’t really want to do any BICE work, and Dawn Beachy was offline for the time being, so he didn’t have anyone to talk to. But he took the pill because he liked the feeling, and it tended to smooth the edges. Made him feel calmer and more confident. Somehow, on the first wave of a hit of Q, his doubts and insecurities paled and faded. Not completely. They didn’t disappear altogether—that would be too much to ask of a drug that didn’t kill you in just a few years from insanity and addiction. For Amos, taking Q was like drinking a beer was to some other people. It leveled him out, helped him find some satisfaction in his otherwise stressful existence.
Just in case Dawn had reconnected and was trying to reach him, he pulled up and entered his control room, and when the floating cube materialized, he spun it slowly with his hand. He didn’t expect Dawn to be there. In fact, he’d arranged for her not to be available. All part of his plot to get his brother to dig deeper into the operation of his BICE. A pure Amish mind, flexible and resilient, systemically agnostic, and clear of technological biases… that was just what was needed at this moment. It was exactly what his own mind had been like when he’d first cracked the TRIDs and the early BICE units in 2075. Jed was now a tabula rasa, a clean slate—and also a very clever young man who wanted only the truth. Like I was once, Amos thought. For now, Jed was the perfect weapon. Transport wanted Jed because the government needed an unwitting spy and a propaganda victory. Amos wanted Jed because he needed victory.