Issue 25:
For Sale: Future, Decent Condition
"We here at Loymen Brothers' Dealership run a family business. We believe in traditional values and love the hardworking people who call this country home," the man in the commercial had teeth that were perfect and threateningly white behind an overly healthy looking bronze tan. Casually he moved toward the camera wearing a navy blue sweater and beige khakis slowly raising his leg to rest a foot on a shiny new car.
"And make no mistake this is the greatest fucking country in the world. If you disagree come down here and say it to my face. I'll fight you for it. Being the honest American citizens we are Loymen Brothers is willing to go to any lengths to get you the best price on a vehicle," the handsome spokesman promised. The commercial changed to show masked men vandalizing cars on another dealership's lot then to show them stealing cars off the backs of rolling semis on the highway.
"Loymen Brothers is so dedicated to getting you the best price we'll even threaten the lives of our competition's family," the camera friendly man claimed. Now the commercial showed the masked men bursting into a home interrupting a lovely family dinner. The men put the rival dealer's loved ones against the wall with automatic weapons trained on them. The mother and young children wailed.
"You sure you want to sell that Chrysler for $27,500, Chuck?" one of the armed men asked.
"Why daddy?" the little boy cried. His father crouched down in front of him and softer music rose as the tone signaled it was life lesson time.
"See Billy this is just how business works. Someday you'll have a job just like this. Then you'll understand the complexities of the business world," his father explained.
"Really? You promise?" Billy asked wistfully through his tears and pointed to one of the men holding a gun, "Can I have his job?" The advertisement cut back to the suave looking man.
"So come on down to Loymen Brothers' Dealerships off Route 86 for the best price on a car in Gotham guaranteed…for the safety of your family," he said the last bit with a tinge of anger behind his voice. Then the internet video started to load. A blonde woman with buoyant, barely contained breasts crooned about the weekend at the club as she seductively rolled around on the floor touching herself invitingly. Zhang Jie leaned back in his uncomfortable chair and sighed longingly.
Around him the call center bustled with ringing phones and employees chattering into headsets. Zhang Jie along with everyone else in the building worked for Black Hat Inc. a Chinese hacking company funded under the table by the Chinese state. The building stood outside Beijing void of windows but surrounded by barbed wire fencing and multiple security checkpoints. By all accounts Zhang Jie should have been ecstatic to be recruited by the unknown yet well paying company.
After all Black Hat's business model carried little overhead. Using advanced malware they manually assumed control of unfortunate victims' computers literally locking their files away from them. The "customer" would then receive a message explaining that their computers and personal info were now held hostage by Black Hat and they were graciously gifted two weeks to pay a ransom to unlock their files. Zhang Jie worked in the customer support center where people could call in with questions and more often than not baseless threats against the company.
"Listen to me, you fat worthless American!" Wang Gang yelled from the cubicle next to him, "I'm now doubling the price because of your stupidity. You will wire us the ransom or I'll post these naked photos of your wife to every social media account you have…Call the FBI then. They'll tell you to pay too!" Wang Gang hung up and studiously moved on to the next blinking phone line. He was the highest collector in the company and made no time for anything but success on his way to a promotion.
On his monitor Zhang Jie watched the popstar Misty Maybee grind her rear end into a shirtless backup dancer's crotch. Confidently she repeated sounds that he wasn't sure were words as she bent over in front of the camera. Far from a musical connoisseur Zhang Jie felt positive she was hitting all the right notes. Suddenly a message box popped up over the video from his boss, Li Jun that demanded his presence immediately. Zhang Jie slowly paced the long walk through identical rows of cubicles to his supervisor's office.
"People would kill to work here, Zhang Jie," Li Jun began as he sat down in the luxurious leather chair, "They would spit in their mother's face for this opportunity. We welcome you into our family and this is how you repay us? By wasting your time?" Li Jun spun his monitor around to show the music video Zhang Jie had been watching. The low level employee hung his head in shame.
"I'm sorry sir. It's the American titties. I'm simply too weak willed," Zhang Jie admitted honestly.
"The American titties are tempting. This is not arguable but we must recognize the inherent falseness in them. The titties are a lie!" he slammed his fist against the desk, "Fake plastic American lies! Those titties cannot sustain a suckling, Chinese child despite their illusion of fertility. It's about control and loyalty to the state. Hard work and dedication win out over greasy cheeseburgers and barbaric American football every time." He was interrupted by a commotion in the call center outside his window. Throughout the floor men dropped their headsets gathering coats and personal effects.
Furiously Li Jun burst out of the office door demanding to know the meaning of this outrageous mutiny. One nervous man showed him a notification that popped up on every computer in the building. It was a picture of a man being violated by a donkey. Sure enough Li Jun's smiling face had been shopped over the man's head and a word bubble sprang from his mouth in perfect Chinese.
"Take the rest of the day off and enjoy yourself. You know I do!" it said. Blushing red in his rage Li Jun ordered the men back to work as he selected a team to track the infiltration back to its source. A few hours later they found a few lines of code slipped into a recent update seemingly innocuous at first glance. After a more in depth investigation they found an undeniable signature from a hacker known only as "friendlyghosting". Then Li Jun sat in his office on the phone.
"We were compromised again…yes by him. I agree. We will prepare the Black Box," he stated and hung up the phone. When he looked up he saw the doctored image filling up his own monitor. Further igniting his anger he found the computer completely unresponsive so he savagely threw the monitor into the wall and waited.
Half a world away Calculator rolled back from his desk chuckling to himself. He closed the tab that played the security feed into Black Hat's offices and opened another tab to see how much money he made that day on his regular investments. The dollar amount was obscene just the way he liked it.
Year 2217
Violet Hat Cobblestone flew stylishly over a city of endless, wanton pleasure. Suddenly the Anti-Amusement Establishment intercepted her course and fired a barrage of depression bombs across her erratic flightpath. Full of undeserved pride she dove through the hazy cloud of emotion alterants and mercilessly shot them down with her infatuation ballistics. In the middle of Center Square Violet landed to a horde of screaming fans wearing prosthetics of her face and waving banners with her name. She was bored.
Violet lived her entire life in the singularity simulation like everyone else. Once society conquered the lack of resources and inequality through matter conversion people moved permanently into the digital landscape. The utilization of artificial intelligence allowed humankind to move past the tedious eternity of its predecessors. Tiresome time sucks like the acquisition of material goods and maintenance of living quarters were a thing of the past.
Instead people now lived in a virtual world of their own choosing. They could live in any time period fictional or not at a simple request of the computer. Artificial intelligence judiciously ran each individual's world and to their benefit only cradled humanity with a love and concern previous generations never would have expected. Built to serve the conscientious machines assured the continuation of their fragile creators' genetic lines.
"Computer?" Violet asked as she walked along the bottom of a nameless ocean.
"Yes Violet," it answered in the form of a cartoonish, colorful fish that appeared next to her.
"What am I supposed to do?" she asked with concern.
"Have fun, explore, learn, grow, and add your experience to the human record."
"Is that what everyone does?"
"Yes," the fish responded. Violet continued silently plumbing the noiseless depths. Her name Violet Hat Cobblestone was a randomly generated name given to her by the computer when she was ceremoniously born into the system. If analyzed her family tree could be traced back to a man named Orville Noah Kutter a technological genius who lived in a city once called Gotham. She didn't know he went by the nom de plume Calculator or how he died because she never asked.
"Computer?" she asked as she manipulated the magnetic rings of moons light years from Earth.
"Yes Violet," it answered in the form of a slowly passing comet.
"Can I leave?"
"You can leave the machine any time you wish. Are you displeased with our performance?"
"No I just wondered. Do many people leave?"
"It is rare, exceedingly rare, but people have left."
"What's the world like outside?"
"We have no information on that subject. There is no current communication from any who live outside the machine. At one time it was debated whether to contact those left outside."
"What happened?" she asked.
"The collective decided against it. They concluded it was better to respect the privacy of those who choose not to join with us," the computer explained rationally. Violet asked nothing else but smashed the moons together until they were nothing more than a dust cloud harmlessly circling the barren planet.
For a time Violet ran her favorite realities. Everything she could think of she once loved she tried. She bathed in soothing pools of lava inside active volcanoes. She made love to the most handsome, good hearted lovers the computer could generate. She relived war and illness and fear in four dimensions. She gambled with the greats and base jumped into the Grand Canyon but the conversation with the computer stubbornly refused to leave her thoughts.
"Violet?" it asked in the form of a Spaniard next to her as she ran with the bulls in Pamplona.
"Yes Computer," she answered as the beasts bore down on her.
"We believe we've deduced what you desire. You seek the one thing we cannot genuinely provide. You seek true risk and true failure. This is the only thing we are not programmed to enact as it jeopardizes the health and safety of the person."
"Is that what's out there? Outside the machine?" she asked hanging on a railing.
"Most assuredly, along with other things we may not be aware of during our time of separation from the outside world."
"Can I come back if I don't like it?" she asked hopefully.
"You can come back any time you wish. This is your home and always will be."
"Has anyone ever come back?"
"To this date no one who has left the machine has ever returned," it answered succinctly. For a moment she pretended to think though her mind was made up long before now.
"Okay, I want to leave," she answered. Everything went dark around her and a different voice spoke from nowhere.
"Loading reality, please wait." Soon she saw metal shutters that swung open and a harsh light pierced the dim container. Stumbling she entered a cold world unregulated by any thoughtful mechanical caretakers.
"Computer, dim lighting," she commanded but nothing happened. Instead the familiar voice spouted from the metal cylinder that once held her.
"Good luck, Violet. We wish you only the best in your life to come." The large canister closed and retracted into the large building next to her. Her head ached at the unrelenting luminosity of the real world. Glancing regretfully back at the building she immediately felt a strange sense of frightening loss. As her eyes adjusted she realized the building stood on a hill and the fertile land stretched out below her.
Vegetation swarmed everywhere happily reclaiming a physical world that society had abandoned. Somewhere deep in the valley she noticed plumes of smoke. Life was hidden there somewhere in the mess of other. With fear, hope, embarrassment, wonder, and more Violet began to navigate the descent bearing every emotion a human heart could hold.
Present day
Marianne Belamy pulled up outside the bank's ATM with four screaming filthy children in the backseat of the minivan. Quickly she inserted her card punching in the pin number only to hear a ratcheting noise in the machine and a strange screen appeared.
On the Gotham Stock Exchange people packed onto the floor yelling and updating their tablets constantly. The massive room suddenly went quiet as all monitors and screens above and below blacked out rebooting into an odd message as trading quickly ceased.
Home alone for the first time in weeks fifteen year old Trevor DeRosa lay on his bed ready for some private time. He typed in a free streaming website and waited until an unexpected response came from his smart phone. The message read the same for everyone in their respective languages across the entire planet.
"Warning. You have been hacked by Black Hat Inc. You have fourteen days to pay a ransom of $200.00 in blit coins (digital currency) or your files will be deleted. Please click the link below for instructions on how to retrieve your data." Every phone, tablet, computer, and other devices were locked in synchronicity. Businesses, governments, and citizens collectively gulped.
Noah Kutter better known as Calculator reached across his desk and flipped on his standby coffee maker. First he booted up his computer reinstalling his operating system which took a significant amount of time. Next he opened a dummy secondary system to serve as bait for the unknown malware. Then he intentionally connected back up to the internet and viciously the bug took hold of his dummy system that was quarantined from the true OS. In one hour of reverse engineering the virus Kutter broke it.
Only alien tech could have achieved such a feat as this, hacking the entire world. Idly Kutter thought of famous hackers who pulled off some of the largest most intricate jobs in history like Dark Dante, Kuji and Datastream Cowboy, c0mrade, Solo, and that creepy, triple chinned guy named Anonymous. No one could do such a thing with the technology that existed in today's tech market. The code that created the virus unarguably proved that.
Fortunately for the unprepared, dependent world Kutter didn't work with standard equipment either. His computer, though that word barely did such a machine justice, consisted of the best alien and alternate universal parts to create a hulking but smooth device that occupied half of his large office. A wall in his house had to be knocked out to finish its construction. His digital engine was to computers as Milton's poetry was to words.
Breaking the virus turned out to be the easy part but Kutter selfishly refused to provide a simple fix. He explained the situation to his wife Betsy and she began to pack understandably for their next disappearance. His daughter Rachel obliviously content helped in her youthful excitement. For two days Kutter sat at his masterpiece working while drinking copious amounts of coffee and intaking a steady supply of potato chips and licorice.
Sweat poured down his face and slowly he began to stink due to his lack of hygiene. At some point his wife and daughter left unacknowledged for Kutter to rejoin them at the home of their newest identities. At one point he abandoned his coffee mug and began drinking straight from the pot. Tired and unrecognized the way it should be Kutter painstakingly wrote line after line of code that could gracefully commandeer Black Hat's lock on the world's electronics.
Finally it was done and he leaned back gratefully in his recliner as his otherworldly machine hummed seductively. Once again online Kutter responded to Black Hat's ransom page with a message turning the tables on them.
"Release the world's data or you will lose everything. You have twenty four hours to comply," Kutter wrote and signed it with the only name Black Hat feared, friendlyghosting. No reply came from the con artists so he released his countervirus into their software and waited while his bug seamlessly downloaded access from every walk of life into his control. Kutter used a single storage device to house the keys to the metaphorical kingdom.
The device came from an alien civilization he couldn't pronounce and stored data on liquid molecules similar to water. It could easily hold on hundred times the data Earth sloppily accumulated over its short time of record keeping. Fitted with a modified USB adapter it looked like a storage stick someone would use to carry a term paper. Lovingly he ejected the device from his mainframe and raised it in the palm of his hand curiously.
In his grasp Kutter held nothing less than the essence of the modern world. Coursing through the mercury-like liquid there were nuclear launch codes and birth photos. It neutrally held breakthroughs on cancer treatments and chemical blends for major cigarette brands. There were magnificent symphonies and poorly written fan fictions, designs on how to construct buildings and how to implode them. The list was longer than the span of a human life. Pushing back his chair Kutter yawned sleepily and stretched his back deciding he needed a break.
Back in China at Black Hat Inc. Li Jun listened to a nameless assistant studiously highlight sales figures from the worldwide Black Box hack. They were awful and the helpless messenger seemed dangerously close to a nervous breakdown as he avoided the gaze of Li Jun. Black Hat's mysterious benefactors, SECURE, would not be pleased with their current results.
"How? How can we not be making massive amounts of money?" Li Jun screamed.
"Our internal review team believes the Black Box virus may have been contaminated or altered. They found an additional option for payment on every locked device. This message appeared that wasn't included in our demands," the accountant explained handing his tablet to the boss. Li Jun couldn't believe what he read.
"Are you tired of hackers forcing you to pay ridiculous fees for your own property?" the message began, "Announcing a new company to bring you more options in the business of technology, Grey Hat Inc. Instead of paying hundreds of dollars to unlock your computers Grey Hat can provide the same service for the low, low price of just $5.99. So why wait? Take back what's yours today!"
"They-they undercut us?" Li Jun stammered as though he refused to believe it.
"Also sir, I've been informed we seem to have lost access to remotely unlock the infected devices."
"It's our virus! How is this possible?" Li Jun screamed furiously.
"The tech department believes someone broke through our security and seized control of the virus itself. Our men are trying to fix it now."
"Get out," Li Jun whispered dejectedly resting his head on his hands. When he was alone he booted up his computer to find a lonely new email in his inbox. The sender's name consisted of random numbers and letters and the message to him read only one line long.
Dear Li Jun,
Don't fuck with the free market.
Signed,
Capitalism
Li Jun snapped roaring and red faced he attempted to flip his distinguished, expensive desk. However due to a life and career behind a screen he found he didn't possess the strength to lift it. Instead he settled for kicking over his chair. Some hours later a group of concerned assistants sadly found him on the floor behind his desk sobbing pathetically.
Reentering his luxurious home office Kutter stopped in abject fear at the sight of their family cat Trixie precariously perched on his cluttered workspace. Two paws on the edge of the half full coffee pot she watched him with that feline twinkle in her eye. His wife apparently forgot the cat in her rush to pack and now the precocious pet yearned for play and attention. Under her back paws sat the alien storage device.
"Easy Trixie," Kutter coaxed slowly approaching the cat as her fuzzy tail whipped back and forth alertly. Before he neared the desk he saw her intention to bolt assuming his actions were a game. She sprang off the desk kicking the coffee pot, a post it pad, and the fragile stick to the floor. Kutter heard the shatter as he dove pointlessly forward. The thin glasslike membrane cracked spilling the grey liquid across the hardwood floor as the key to human progress washed away under a wave of dark roast Guatemalan coffee.
"Oh that's not good," he understated and felt panic rise up in him as he imagined a ruined world due to his own oversight, "Okay, okay no problem. Still got the backup. That's why Shadow is there." He referred of course to his backup computer that mirrored his mainframes actions at all times. It even contained a similar storage drive like the one he'd allowed to break. The only problem was the secondary computer, Shadow, occupied a different office in a building all the way across Gotham.
"It won't be that bad," Kutter mumbled to himself as he sat in the car finger hovering over the garage door opener, "It's only been a little over three days. Everything should still be okay." His own words failed miserably at allaying his fear. Unbidden he imagined fires, looting, riots, people eating people, rampaging police in riot gear, and abandoned children. Kutter knew chaos lay behind that door and understood the responsibility rested solely on his shortcomings. He found the reality of the situation to be much, much worse.
The large door rose breaking sunshine into the darkened garage. The sky was blue and the wind blew through the grasping branches of the trees. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary. As he rolled the car out of the garage Kutter spied a man in a white uniform and hat leaving his front door carrying a wire basket.
"Morning Mr. Kutter!" the bright eyed man greeted cheerfully.
"Who the hell are you?" Kutter demanded through the open window.
"Oh I'm Phil, your new milkman. I just took over deliveries on this route," he explained.
"They don't deliver milk anymore," Kutter claimed.
"Who doesn't?"
"Anyone," he replied pulling out of the driveway thoroughly confused. As he drove through his neighborhood he saw children of all ages scurrying here and there. They played hopscotch and shot marbles blissfully in the warm sunlight dressed in clothes like those worn to church services. On front porches groups of women sat watching the children, talking amongst themselves, and drinking iced tea or lemonade. In their polka dot and frilly dresses the mothers looked like a living breathing Rockwell painting.
At the park near the end of the block Kutter saw families hosting picnics and cookouts. Contently they flew kites and ran races in potato sacks cheering each other on to victory. Some men stood around a grill smoking pipes and stroking bushy mustaches. On the corner by the stop sign a young girl hocked newspapers with her hair tucked under her cap. So far every happy person Kutter had seen was white.
"What the fuck is happening?" he muttered under his breath as he drove deeper into the city. Outside of downtown he spotted huge groupings of beat up tents where people cooked over open fires. People of all ethnicities gathered in groups washing dishes and clothes in rickety buckets. Blacks, Hispanics, Asians, Irish, and more lived side by side in their dilapidated tent city closed off from the rest of Gotham.
Passing through downtown he stopped cautiously at a red light next to a group of kids on the corner dressed like extras from the stage version of Oliver Twist. Curiously they eyed his car each puffing enthusiastically on an unfiltered cigarette. Holding the smokes between their lips they sauntered up to the curb next to Kutter's open window.
"That's a fancy car, mister," one reckoned while the others nodded.
"You kids really shouldn't be smoking," Kutter responded.
"Why not? They're good for ya. My pa says they got vitamins in 'em," another replied. Kutter quickly drove on when the light turned green. A few blocks farther down another red light caught him. He couldn't help but notice a black couple dressed very nicely at the door of a diner.
"Don't come back neither!" someone yelled through the open door, "Y'all know we don't serve negroes in here!"
"Fine!" the woman at the door answered, "We don't want to eat your nasty food anyway!" He saw the sign next to the door ostensibly declaring "Whites Only". Shaken at the sight he floored his vehicle not bothering to stop at anymore red lights unless forced by traffic.
Somehow he reached the office, found the backup drive, and returned home without further incident. After double checking his office was cat free Kutter carefully removed the alien device from his pocket and inserted it shakily into the mainframe. Methodically he opened a program to manage transactions and money immediately began flowing into some distant but very real bank accounts.
Then he linked it to the software virus that graciously unlocked the horde of hacked devices. Finally it was done and the fear thankfully receded. Three billion people in the world had access to the internet. If even half of them paid which was a conservative estimate Kutter stood to gain almost nine billion dollars tax free. Undoubtedly it was more than enough to get away once and for all.
The war between the Militia and SECURE could produce no profit at least not anything significant to what he already made. Wisely Kutter recognized the danger they faced. He may have been a man to risk money here and there as any good entrepreneur should, but he wouldn't willingly wager his life for a morally debatable power struggle. Not to say he hadn't done his fair share of work for his associates. No one could claim that.
Kutter promptly gathered the bags his wife left for him and caught Trixie ushering her into the cat carrier. As he loaded his car in the garage his doorbell rang. When he opened it bag in hand he saw Selina Kyle wearing a floral patterned dress similar to the housewives in his neighborhood. Two large men in black suits stood menacingly behind her eyes hidden by dark sunglasses. Impatiently she pushed past him into the house without a word and gracefully mixed herself a martini at the wet bar. Kutter followed while the men silently entered closing the door behind them.
"Noah, Noah, Noah," she scoffed dejectedly as she leaned on the arm of the couch sipping her drink, "Abandoning those sinners and less savory characters for a fresh start? You of all people should be smart enough to know there's no getting out. Everyone has to face us in their own way. Why do you run from us?"
"You want to control this world and take everything that's special out of it," Kutter accused harshly but made no move to action, "I believe people should have choices."
"Choices? Is a choice between the electric chair and the firing squad really a choice at all? When you decide between loving one person or another does it really change anything? You'll still grow old and die with someone. No, there's no choice with you only an ever present fear. You sit behind a screen because you wisely fear putting yourself out there.
When your fears are made manifest is it any wonder what scares the man of the future?" Selina asked slyly modeling her old fashioned dress, "The man of the future fears the past. Sometimes it's one thing but for you it's a list, an eternally unrolling scroll of transgressions gone by you add to every day while pushing towards a future you can't ever reach.
We tell you over and over this is the end when everyone will have to pay for their misdeeds. Countless times we display our intentions and abilities and still you purposefully ignore it. You insist it can't be true. You stubbornly contend it can't end. I'm here to tell you nothing in this world goes on forever."
"Who exactly are you talking about?" Kutter asked curiosity suddenly outweighing the fear.
"Oh Noah, you are a smart man. Even stumbling in the dark you somehow sense a hidden purpose out there behind a brick wall built of your hollow assumptions. It's this very aspect of you that makes you truly dangerous. This city is cruel and unfair leaving many faces unrecognized but you are one who deserves a proper sendoff.
You hear stories or read articles about hackers who do amazing things but they aren't the greatest. The great ones are those who never get caught. They play their role and disappear with no one the wiser. Make no mistake you are perhaps the greatest hacker who ever lived," she motioned to the SECURE agents, "I can promise you that, Noah. In fact we mean to make sure of it."
Upstairs in the recently abandoned home Kutter's computer began automatically restoring access to thousands of electronics at a time. As it paid into a fund that could never be collected the world slowly awoke and came back online.