Burn Code

Five

The police let me work with my own equipment to not completely scare off Grendel. The bastard would sniff out anything even remotely smelling of cop.

“Just find out where he is,” Paul repeated. “No heroics.”

“No guarantees!” I pointed out, reestablishing links that hadn’t been used in two years. It felt rusty and corroded, like I needed to scrub at them with a wire brush to get a decent wave.

“I know — just try.”

I lurked for a week. Two years was a ton of water under the bridge and the old players weren’t necessarily the current players. I knew where to go and lay low, dusting off my hacker avatar — the poor girl had been shelved for too long.

Some haunts were simply gone. IPs no longer responded to ping attempts. I back traced histories to try to find them, but nothing pointed to a server change or a renaming to escape the authorities.

Others changed in subtle ways to avoid prosecution. Reformulating a hangout to a group for expectant mothers gave ample protection to the side room meetings. The mothers never saw what was happening, and it was a perfect front.

Crusty Lou found me first in the sub levels of a virtual hangout named Brændende Malkestald — a dumb name like Burning Parlor kept the idiots out, and the ones thinking it was a cigar lounge realized their mistake at the door. I never did figure out why he called himself Crusty and that was probably a good thing.

“Lady Z, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” His avatar reminded me of a lawn gnome minus the tall red hat. “I thought you were on five years probation with a jack.”

“I was. But they reviewed my case.” Zanika, my avatar, gave Crusty Lou a wide smile. “They reduced it to time served.”

I made sure that Paul circulated the story out in the usual manner. It would make me more credible, even if persona non grata.

“I suppose I’m no longer big fish around here.” Zanika patted the bench next to her and Lou sat.

It was a strange dichotomy to be both places at once, but one got used to it and to any momentary pauses an avatar might make as the human on the other end attended to life and living. I could shift between being totally submerged with both optics or having an eye focused at Malkestald while the other remained at my apartment. I chose the former this trip.

Lou swallowed the bait. “No, unfortunately not. But nobody’s as sophisticated anymore. I missed your work, Z.”

“Flatterer.”

A simple algorithm tweaked Zanika’s appearance as I gauged Lou’s reactions. It was the same algorithms I used to maximize my dancer avatar. He reacted favorably to her wider lips and larger breasts. Men were terribly predictable.

“There are a couple new upstarts trying to make a name doing the usual stuff.” Lou shrugged. “Of course, when they hit a bank and get caught redirecting funds, well, it makes the rest of us look bad, yeah?”

“Morons.” I agreed. “Everybody knows you don’t go in like that. You skim around the edges, give yourself a few shares in corporate stock, and bury the rewards in off shore accounts. Filter a little for the orphans and old ladies to clear your conscience. Do that enough, and you’ll be set for life.”

“You know that and I know that, love.” He patted my hand where it rested on the bench. “But doing things the right way takes time and savvy.”

As I glanced around the room, indicators flashed on my optics, relaying the handles and any displayed messages from those in the hangout. Open ports were usually available to initiate private conversations or deals. The overly paranoid often kept those details hidden, but it was against common courtesy for a place like this. It was suspicious and gave reason to hack for the sheer sport of it. If the person was hiding abhorrent behavior, they faced a boot and blacklist.

The abhorrent part became a little less stringent as hacker notoriety grew. My crimes in neurofrying four people should have landed me a permanent blacklist. The fact that I neurofried four dregs of society made my actions more forgivable by the community.

Warning triggers flashed in the peripherals as my avatar was probed. Most offensive probes, as opposed to the reactionary probes, were ham-fisted jobs done by hacks using canned coding. This was suave. When it met a roadblock, it retreated. If it found a small weakness, it lurked and remained silent long enough to lose your attention. Then it mutated and tried again.

It was a beautiful design all around. I searched the crowd for its source.

“Lou, I just got chills.”

“Oh?” His lips puckered behind the beard.

“Someone scanned me. It was pretty damned sophisticated — an offensive probe without going at it like a jackhammer. Know anybody like that?”

Lou swore and fidgeted. “Oh no.”

“What?”

Lou turned towards me but gave a man across the room a side eye glance. “See that dude in the charcoal three piece? He’s straight across from you.”

“I see him.” He was out of place but right at home in a very creepy way.

“That’s one of the new ones. He actually has talent. Writes all his own code from what I hear. They say he’s even figured out a way to temporarily remove the nanites from his ink to leave behind.”

“What? Why?”

Lou gave me a wary glance. “Think about it, Z. Dust off a few on someone and you can practically see everything they do. Find an interface they might have left open. Maybe try a straight hack if placed on live ink.”

“Christ.” For once I was glad I was miles behind an avatar. “Do you think it’s true?”

“I wouldn’t want to find out, Zanika.” Lou swallowed hard. “And neither should you.”

“If possible, it has interesting potential. I wonder what the range is on it.”

Lou shrugged. “If you could keep the nanites powered, either on their own or through tapping current from the target, I don’t see why they couldn’t establish connections via normal communication protocols.”

“The only way to prevent it would be if the person was under a dampener of some sort.”

“Yep.” He nodded.

I sighed, hoping it was all speculation. “A chilling prospect.”

He stood from the bench. “Indeed.”

“Thanks, Lou.” I blew him a kiss. “Nice to see you again.”

He smiled. “Don’t be a stranger, girl.”

“I won’t, Lou,” I replied and hazarded a casual glance at the lion in the tailored suit. He grinned at me and my heart skipped a few beats.