UnConsequences
ELITE REDOUBT THURSDAY

Francoise Dechamp had been reviewing the files from Wednesday looking for any clues as to the nature and origin of the data black hole.

“The data gap is increasing Francoise; the Lair is hidden and Mackintyre has disappeared again; I have withdrawn some sensors from the Enclave and sent them north to hunt for him.”

“Thanks Boris. When do the new sensors get there?”

“First group should reach the Lair by midday local time. A replacement for the Enclave sensors should be in place in 72 hours. We cannot afford to leave the Enclave unmonitored for any length of time; the evidence to date suggests that there will be significant upheaval there in the very near future.”

“Fine - but please concentrate on the hunt for Mackintyre; the Enclave can wait.”

“Agreed.”

The small independently powered sensors were well disguised, but slow travellers. They could not afford to advertise their presence by appearing out of the ordinary so often they had the appearance of small birds or mammals, or in the case of the Enclave, old pieces of tech, and bits of kit scattered around in offices and homes, even insects. Inconspicuous and harmless they provided the Elite with much of their information of the wider world. But they were vulnerable to random acts of destruction, over-zealous tidying up and required constant replenishment.

“And you are convinced that Mackintyre is at the heart of this? We are investing huge resources in this hunt.”

“Not at the heart, it’s much too big for one man, but I am convinced that he is a crucial link in the chain and by following him we will get to the heart of the data hole. I hesitate to call it a conspiracy but it is taking on some of the characteristics of a much broader plan that we are not aware of.”

“Does Running Bear agree with that assessment?”

“Not entirely; he thinks we have a blind spot, we are missing something he says. He has built a synergy matrix but so far he has found little beyond loose ends and it is this that concerns him.”

“I’ll go speak with him then; I would like to see this matrix.”

Francoise found Running Bear in deep conversation with Li Shai Yen over a tangled diagram made up of spheres and connecting rods. It looked like a 3D picture of a very complex organic molecule, but unfinished; about a quarter of connecting rods floating in space with no obvious node to link to. The “atoms” in the matrix were of various colours representing most of the known AIs and overlaid on a spherical representation of the Earth in an attempt to localise and contextualise the data. It was clear that this was a representation of the same information that Francoise had been discussing with Boris, but instead of a seeming black hole the loose ends were shown as the connectors without an end point.

The tall Native American was obviously baffled, he had used this type of representation a hundred times before to develop ideas and show up synergies in the data field but he had never seen one like this. The essence of what Running Bear brought to the Elite was encapsulated in these diagrams. They should highlight the unusual, show the hidden links between data, provide insights to obscure causes and surprising effects, but on this occasion nothing made sense. Synergy theory worked better the more information that was available and it was abvious from this diagram that they were missing something crucial.

Francoise Dechamp was not pleased to see Li Shai Yen; she was not fond of her, believing that Shai Yen was an intellectual lightweight unsuited to the seriousness of the Elite. She also saw her as too pushy; an advocate for change without a deep knowledge of the consequences. Running Bear however had a great deal of respect for the board’s youngest member. He had been watching her since her arrival and considered her to have all the attributes necessary to make a first class synergist. He was resolved to guide her through the minefield that was Elite politics seeing her as his natural successor.

“Boris, are you with us?”

“Yes Francoise.”

Running Bear turned from his examination of the diagram.

“Good to see you Francoise I was about to call you. Come and look at this.” Running Bear explained the layout and the structure of the diagram to Francoise and invited her comments.

She was silent for a few moments, “Boris, what do you think?”

“I have often been dubious about this methodology as you know, but in this case I believe Running Bear has described our problem quite succinctly. We are missing a massive piece of the jigsaw - we have a shape for it but little else.”

“It’s an AI, perhaps more than one.” Li Shai Yen interjected, “There is nothing else capable of this.”

Her nostrils flared, she glared at Li Shia Yen; this was the last straw. “But they are all here” said Francoise gesturing at the matrix, “and if Running Bear’s analysis is correct, AI’s are not part of this conspiracy!”

She paused, “Running Bear, this is unacceptable; we have been through all this already!” Francoise was livid; she challenged the younger woman to justify her assertion believing she would back down in the face of her greater experience.

Li Shai Yen was not so easily cowed, “Look again Francoise, all bar two of the free floating connections emanate from the Republic. They are likely to be Poe and Siobhan the other two are right here in the Redoubt, in our own systems. Mackintyre might be brilliant but he couldn’t do this without significant AI help. Can you explain the broken links in the Redoubt?”

Francoise did not respond.

“I thought not. The loose ends all have one thing in common; the AIs missing from this matrix - namely, Siobhan and Poe add in AI-1and it begins to make sense. All along we have assumed that the problem is human and external to us. I am suggesting it isn’t and this proves that neither you nor Boris have access to or have given us the full picture.”

The implication was that she and Boris had been disingenuous at best and deceptive at worst. She had got close to accusing Boris and Francoise of misleading the Elite Board. Li Shai Yen folded her arms and waited for the explosion, but Francoise was not about to indulge her.

“Boris, please evaluate the probabilities that this hypothesis has any basis in fact.”

A short tense silence ensued. The two women stared at each other, neither willing to back down and Running Bear was reluctant to intervene. He had a premonition that Li Shai Yen’s hypothesis would prove to be sound, he hoped Boris would have the sensitivity to break the news gently; this could shatter the fragile peace that had been achieved since yesterday.

“Francoise, Running Bear, Shai Yen, as you would expect, the results are somewhat contradictory. Li Shai Yen is correct there is a 98% probability that the intelligence behind this is an AI.”

Francoise started to protest, Boris continued.

“However that is as far as it goes. At best we can only surmise that an AI or AIs unknown, is or are responsible for our confusion but there is no clear evidence of whom. I am sorry Francoise but we need to investigate Li Shai Yen’s ideas as quickly and as fully as possible.”

Francoise slumped into a seat and put her head in her hands, the precise tones of the AI had just cut through all her certainties; everything she had relied upon for the last half century was suddenly called into question. It was as if she had built her life on quicksand, she felt every one of her 75 years. Li Shai Yen, on seeing the older woman’s distress felt her victory to be a hollow one. She had some sympathy for the elderly board member but not enough for her to soften her stance. She knew she was right and the Elite would have to come to terms with the implications the data.

Running Bear attempted to console Francoise; she shrugged his hand off her shoulder. “Don’t.” she said, “Boris, get Gustav in here, now!”

She had come to a decision. The next few minutes passed in total silence. Bentner arrived to a subdued and silent room.

“Running Bear - Francoise - what’s wrong?”

Francoise stood up and lifted her head, there were tears gathering in her eyes though her voice was steady. S~ᴇaʀᴄh the (F)indNƟvᴇl.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“Gustav, listen. Boris, note for the record. I hereby resign from the Elite Board, I believe I am now a liability and no longer possess the necessary skills to fulfil my duties. I respectfully request a leave of absence.” Francoise turned and walked out of the room with as much dignity as she could muster.

Gustav Bentner was stunned; he tried to stop her leaving but Francoise just barged past him.

“Running Bear - what’s going on? What’s just happened here?”

“I’m not sure I can explain fully but Francoise thinks she has failed us.”

Running Bear went on to rapidly lay out the background to his research, and Francoise’s reaction. He played down Li Shai Yen’s role in events; something for which she was quite glad, the last thing she needed was to get Bentner’s back up. He also laid out some of the implications of his research.

Ever the bureaucrat Gustav’s initial reaction was to be expected.

“We should call the Board together to discuss how we proceed and to discuss a possible replacement for Francoise; she will be a very hard act to follow.”

Surprisingly it was Boris who laid it in the line. “Gustav, I think you are underestimating the scale of this problem. These data and the analysis calls into question my integrity. I could be being influenced by external agencies that may, or may not have our best interests at heart. We have evidence of collusion with AI’s outwith the Redoubt and we don’t know whom to trust. Indeed given the scenario laid out here I am unsure whether the advice I have provided to date was free of outside interference.”

“And we have little or no idea how long ago the interference started.” added Li Shai Yen.

“It’s not as bad as that? Surely our security systems would have picked up on this as soon as it happened and if they haven’t, then nothing detrimental has occurred.”

“I thank you for your faith in the security system Gustav, but your judgement overly simplistic and I must take action. To begin with I will withdraw from the board while I investigate, I will also take all non-automated systems offline and look to minimise contact with outside AIs. All known AI interaction and monitoring within the Redoubt will cease. I cannot vouch for unknown or unauthorised monitoring and interaction which may also be part of our problem. Global monitoring will continue however the data will be rendered inaccessible until we have some resolution, I cannot risk further contamination of the AI systems. I suggest that the Board and the staff plan to be without AI support for at least twenty four hours.”

The three Board members looked at each other in astonishment.

“Boris? .... Boris?”

There was no reply. Apparently - Boris had been as good as his word and he had disconnected himself from the Redoubt and its inhabitants. They were on their own for a day at least and none of them had experience of an AI free life.

“Now what?” asked Li Shai Yen.

“We relearn thinking for ourselves.” said Running Bear, “Get everyone together we need to tell them what’s happening.”

The three made their way to the dining hall where people were already gathering; they were greeted by a babble of questioning voices. More people were arriving every second and the noise level was rising.

Gustav Bentner clapped his hands “People - people!” he shouted, “Quiet down please!” The hubbub died down somewhat, “We know you’ve got many questions but let us explain then you can ask whatever you want.”

The Elite settled down, “Thank you, Running Bear will you please explain what happened earlier.”

Running Bear called up his diagram, at least that was working, it hadn’t been created by an AI and he still had access to the isolated databases and processors that he tended to work from when speculating. It would seem that Boris had only removed AI processing not access to old data from the network. He took a deep breath and plunged in. It took over an hour to explain the workings of the diagram and how he had put it together. He then began to elucidate the reasoning behind the broken links and why they were so important.

His audience were becoming restive; “Before I go on, does anyone have any questions?” everyone started yelling at once.

Gustav intervened. “Stop - Stop! If you all talk at once we will get nowhere! I suggest we let Running Bear finish before we begin discussion.”

There was a grumbling acceptance of the compromise. “Running Bear - please continue.”

Running Bear quickly described the rest of the story. “To sum up Boris believes he and the other Redoubt AIs may have been compromised from within and without. They no longer trust themselves to provide impartial and constructive advice. He has entered, I suppose you could call it, voluntary purdah until such times as he has purged the systems and planned how to undo any damage, if any, which resulted from the contamination.”

A voice from the back of the room, “How long will that take?”

“Provisional estimate is twenty four hours.”

It was Li Shai Yen who answered, the muttering grew again.

“And where is Francoise?”

The same voice from the back; the three looked at each other unbsure of how to reply.

“I repeat - where is Francoise? She is the acknowledged expert in these matters.”

Gustav cleared his throat, “Unfortunately, Francoise has found it necessary to resign her post and as yet we have not appointed a successor.”

At this, pandemonium broke out; Francoise had been a fixture in the Redoubt since day one, there were none here apart, from Gustav and Running Bear who could remember a time before Francoise.

A door slammed open behind Gustav, Carswell ran in panting, Bentner turned taking in the distressed look on Carsewell’s face.

“Gustav!” Carswell stared around the assembled company, focusing back on Gustav, “Quickly, bring a doctor!” he ran off again.

The Elite medical supremo, Dr Catriona Holloway, chased after him, Gustav in her wake. They raced to the floor above; the door to Francoise’s apartment was wide open, Catriona Holloway looked in and was horrified to see Francoise Dechamp slumped in her desk chair, head back, foam flecking her mouth, her unseeing eyes wide open. The doctor leapt into the room searching for a pulse, she pulled Francoise for the chair and began CPR. “Get me a resuscitation kit!” she yelled between pushes,.

Carsewell and Bentner retreated from the doorway to let the doctor do her job. Others began arriving to see what the fuss was. Gustav herded them back to the dining room.

“Let the medics do their work, there’s nothing we can do here.”

The resuscitation team arrived and Bentner continued to shoo the curious back to the dining room. Some five minutes later a dishevelled Catriona Holloway returned to a quiet and subdued dining room. She shook her head.

“There was nothing we could do. We will know more after a post mortem, but judging by what I have seen she was poisoned!”

“It was poison.” Li Shai Yen came into the room just behind the doctor and handed her a pad. “She left this for us. She killed herself.”

The doctor scanned the pad before handing it to Gustav.

“Where did you find this Li Shai Yen?” he asked.

“It was left on my desk.”

Gustav read through the note. “This seems unequivocal. Doctor please complete the PM as quickly as possible to verify. As for the rest of us, I think this puts our AI troubles in perspective and a period of quiet contemplation is in order. Shai Yen, Running Bear, will you come with me please.”

He strode out without waiting for an answer.

In his office Gustav slumped into the chair behind his desk: he still held the pad in his hand, “Sit down you two, Shai Yen, you have read this?”

“Yes I have.”

He handed the pad to Running Bear to read the note. “She accuses you of undermining her, almost conspiring against her in an effort to get her sacked.”

Before Li Shai Yen could respond, Running Bear interrupted. “Gustav you can’t give any credence to this. Francoise was clearly distraught when she wrote it. You saw her earlier, saw her reaction to our researches. She was not the Francoise we have known for many years, she wasn’t rational. The withdrawal of Boris and the other AI’s support must have been the last straw.”

“I have known Francoise Dechamp for over forty years, Running Bear, and this is totally out of character. I find hard to believe she would kill herself. Shia Yen you were also there when she resigned. These accusations she’s made against you are very specific and serious. Did you accuse her of lying to the Board, of misleading the Elite for her own ends?”

His voice was calm, as if asking if she’d had a good day, but his eyes bored into hers and she could see a pulse throbbing in his throat which belied his controlled exterior.

“Off course not, Gustav!” Li Shai Yen was indignant, “I have no wish to speak ill of the dead but Francoise could not accept the implications of our theory. She was angry and upset and I think this blinded her. Faced with the reality of what we had uncovered she flipped - and this is the result.”

Gustav Benter sat back and folded his arms, inspecting her face looking for any hint of deception or artifice. He felt that there was something neither Running Bear nor Li Shai Yen had told him about the earlier meeting; he steepled his fingers under his chin.

“You have nothing to add? No further insights? I have to say, I’ve heard nothing that I believe would have precipitated such an extreme reaction.” He was pushing in the desperate hope that he could find a reason other than the obvious for Dechamp’s apparent suicide.

“I’m sorry you feel that way Gustav,” said Running Bear, “But Francoise obviously took very personally what was a simply discussion around the possible roots of our troubles. Perhaps we underestimated her personal attachment to Boris but I don’t believe you can lay the blame for her suicide at our door.”

Shai Yen was releaved he had said “our door” and not hers.

Bentner sighed, “Well, perhaps we’ll know more after the post mortem. I will ask security to try and trace her last movements, but without the internal monitoring that will be difficult.”

It all appeared a little too convenient to Gustav; the discussion with Boris, followed by the switching off of the internal sensors which lead to the delay in detecting the apparent suicide and the subsequent inability to revive Francoise. Gustav was not fond of unusual coincidences that led to unforeseen outcomes.

ENCLAVE THURSDAY

Drog woke up with a pounding headache and a parched throat, he swallowed a couple of the ubiquitous small bottles that he’d been left and followed those with a pair of proprietary pain killers. By the time he had showered and eaten breakfast he was beginning to feel almost human. He had no rostered duties for the day but he was sure that the Chief would have something for him. This was confirmed when he checked for messages; Connely expected him at HQ in an hour - plain clothes were specified. He dressed quickly and headed off.

Hussan wasn’t feeling too good either. After yesterday’s rain and an overnight party he had a monstrous hang-over. He gulped down water clearing some of the grit from his mouth and swallowed a couple of out of date painkillers. He and Stark had worked their way through several bottles of rotgut alcohol and topped it off with more of the malt. By the end of the night though they had reached an accommodation; from what he could remember they had agreed to support each other in Connely’s endeavour but the details were lost in a haze of alcohol.

Stark groaned and rolled over, his arm encountering a warm body. He sat up and rubbed his sticky eyes open; he didn’t recognise his companion nor could he remember how she got here. He had a vague recollection of his discussions with Hussan before the booze had kicked in, he knew he had something to do but what it was eluded him. His companion barely stirred as he got up from the rough bed; stretching his arms above his head and looking round he realised he was not in his own place. Stark dressed quickly and left the room without waking the mystery woman.

He found himself in unfamiliar territory; the tunnel to his left had a few flickering, elderly glow globes but otherwise it was dark and the rails long since lifted. He could hear the chittering of rats somewhere to his right where a slight breeze flowed from. Unsure of where he was he decided to walk towards the breeze where it looked like the glow globes were newer and increasingly frequent down the tunnels length.

After about five minutes, it was difficult to judge time in the tunnels, the glow globes were much closer together and ahead there seemed to be constant glow suggesting a station. He slowed and hugged the tunnel wall. The end of the tunnel opened out to a station and Stark knew instantly where he was, “Shit” he thought, “Picadilly Circus”. No wonder it was bright, this was often where security raids into the Underground often started, not a deep station and relatively easy to access from the surface, it was also the most monitored part of the network. He stood stock still listening for any movement - all was quiet, he glanced round the edge of tunnel - still no sign of movement. Stark had an almost complete map of the Underground in his head, he knew he had to go through the station to get back to his home territory. He was just about to make a run for it when he heard a door open above him.

“I hate these fucking tunnels.”

Footsteps clanged on a metal stairway.

“Yeah it’s the rats; they seem to get bigger and smarter every year.”

Stark glanced into the station two police technicians were just coming onto the platform. They were armed and he hoped they weren’t heading his way; he began to slowly and quietly sidle back along the tunnel. He kept his his eyes on the station entrance and prayed he would find a hiding place before he was spotted by the engineers. A gap opened behind him and he squeezed into a niche in the tunnel wall just as the two technicians jumped down from the platform to the tunnel floor.

The beams from two powerful torches flickered down the tunnel and away. He risked a peep out from his hiding place. The two technicians were walking down the opposite tunnel; Stark breathed a sigh of relief. He let them get far enough away that he wouldn’t be heard and sneaked back to the station. He changed tunnels through to the remains of the Picadilly line and sprinted for home hoping there had been no rock falls since he had last travelled this way. His luck held and he made it back to home turf to find the place in uproar.

Hussan had one of Stark’s lieutenants by the throat shaking him and screaming in his face. “Where the fuck is he?”

Members from both clans were arguing loudly, pushing and shoving each other. Choking dust was kicking up from the ground and the women and children had shrunk back to the walls cowering in fear. It was clear that a battle was about to kick off.

“Hussan!” yelled Stark, “Put him the fuck down!”

Hussan threw the luckless lieutenant to the ground and strode towards Stark anger suffusing his face as he brushed aside the few Undergrounders who dared to try and block his way. He threw his massive arms around Stark and lifted him off the ground in a bear hug that Stark thought might break his back. Hussan whispered in his ear. “I hope she was worth it!”

He released Stark and grinned down at him, then laughed his huge booming laugh, slapped Stark on the back before half carrying him into a small side room.

Sitting round a small table in the room were Drog, another uniformed policeman and two senior Undergrounders. On the table lay the AI link and a 3D projector.

“What happened to the hair Drog? Underground fleas gotcha?”

Drog turned his head to show Stark the connector socket, Stark whistled.

“A direct AI link, where’d you get that? Those things’ll kill ya if you’re not careful. D’you know how to use it?”

Drog just nodded, Hussan and Stark sat down.

Stark gestured across the table at the unknown policeman.“Who’s this?”

“I’m Commander Tennyson; I’ll be your liaison for the period.”

Stark was instantly suspicious, he did not like unknowns on his patch.“I thought that was Drog’s job!”

“It was” said Drog, “but things have changed.” He gestured at the connector. “I’ll be too busy with this. Tennyson knows what’s required. We go later today, we can’t afford to wait, BoJo’s already suspicious, he’s cancelled all leave and cranked up the monitoring around underground access points He’s using the recent rain as an excuse to clamp down on travel and open air entertainment. He wants the streets clear for his security transports.”

Drog waved on the 3D projector, a representation of the city centre appeared. “This is a live feed from our security AIs.”

Tennyson took over; he used a light pen to highlight four areas on the map. “These are your main exit points; you will notice that BoJo’s security is concentrated elsewhere. Drog’s first job will be to divert the security sensors for the time you need to gather here, here, here and here.”

He highlighted four areas on the map all well hidden from the streets. “From there you will be able to harass BoJo’s forces. You keep them occupied for half an hour diverting his attention while we break into the Cucumber and get to the Mayor.”

“How will we know the sensors have been diverted?” asked Hussan

“You’ll know alright, if I fail to divert the sensors, you won’t even get out of the tunnels before security dump on you.”

“Thanks Drog that cheers me up.” The sarcasm in Stark’s voice was clear.

“When?” asked Hussan.

“Sunset - this evening!”

“You’re fuckin’ kiddin’ right?” Hussan was sceptical to say the least.

“We’re nothing like ready, no training, no armour, and no weapons nothin’!”

“The containers with your kit will be here shortly.”

“Got it all planned then have you? All set up, neat and tidy Huh? We just do the dirty work while you lot swan off and take over the fucking world?”

Tennyson leaned over and focused the scanner down on an area to the right of centre of the map. “This is yours when we topple the Mayor, the entire Farringdon complex; clean and clear as far west as Gray’s Inn Road.”

He mapped out an area from Holborn in the south to Pentonville Road in the north and the A1 to the east, a sizeable chunk of real estate. “There’s plenty of space for you there.”

“What about the folks that are already there?” asked Stark.

“Most have already been moved under the pretext of a major redevelopment, BoJo’s idea.” Tennyson was obviously happy about turning one of BoJo’s own initiatives against him.

A deep rumbling shook dust from the walls and ceiling of the room. “That’ll be the weapons arriving” said Tennyson standing up.

He and the Underground leaders walked out to see four large, dull grey transports exiting the tunnels. Policemen jumped down from the cabs and greeted Tennyson with a salute. They slid back the side doors of the containers revealing racks of gleaming weapons and ammunition. Tennyson pulled one off the rack and handed it to Hussan, it looked quite small in the big man’s huge hands.

“Five hundred magneto-electric rail guns, just point and shoot, mach 3 muzzle velocity, single shot accurate to two hundred and fifty yards, three shots a second on repeat, one hundred solids per magazine, ten magazines per gun. The charge will last through all ten magazines, one spare battery per gun. Almost no moving parts this is one the most reliable guns on the market”

Hussan lifted the gun to his shoulder sighting down the barrel; he swung round left then right and squeezed the trigger.

“It’s not loaded, pull and release for a single shot squeeze and hold for repeat. Dead easy.” Tennyson took the gun back from Hussan and opened a crate. “One hundred and fifty passive armour jackets and helmets, they’ll stop most solids.”

He threw open a larger crate. “Four active armour suits, one each, custom made for the attack leaders. These will stop anything the security can throw at you. There’s a communications kit and five times muscle strength enhancement.” He looked round the assembled leaders. “Well?”

Stark lifted a breast plate from the container, weighing it in his hands.

“It’s very light.”

He looked dubiously at the matt black plate. Tennyson took it from Stark, loaded a magazine into a rail gun and propped the breast plate up against one of the transport’s giant wheels. Signalling the others to step back he aimed and fired a short burst of solids at the breastplate from about ten feet away. The noise of the ricochets echoed round the cavern as the solids whined off into the darkness, fortunately missing the surrounding Undergrounders. Tennyson picked up the plate and handed it to Stark.

“Not a scratch.” he said and turned back to the container.

“And last but not least a thousand pairs of sun goggles, you’ll need these tomorrow. You’ve been down here so long it’ll take time for your eyes to adjust.”

“You seem to have thought of everything.”

Stark looked at Hussan who just nodded.

“Right let’s get this show on the road.” he said.

Tennyson kitted out the four leaders showing them how to use the armour and the comms equipment.

“Hey Tennyson, I think I’ve put on a few pounds, this feels too tight.”

“Do I look like a fuckin tailor to you Hussan?” Tennyson tugged at the back of Hussan’s armour. “You’ve got two clips mixed up, hang on.” He reset the clips, “How’s that?”

Hussan swung his arms and lifted his massive shoulders, felt the servos kicking in, he bent his knees and jumped ten feet in the air. “Better.”

Around them the rest of the weapons, armour and goggles were being distributed to the Undergrounders. It was taking longer than anyone expected because of the Undergrounders’ unfamiliarity with the kit. A few stray shots echoed through the cavern as the tribesmen fumbled with more powerful weapons than they were used to. Tennyson checked those with the passive armour and the four policemen took the rest away for a bit of target practice down one of the abandoned tunnels.

The leaders stood together encased in identical armour, their stencilled names front and back glowing slightly in the poor light. They watched as their fellows came to terms with their new kit and weaponry. There was a degree of nervousness in their movements, as if they had just become aware of what they were about to do and weren’t confident of success.

Back in the room Drog was also unsure; he nervously fingered the connector cable thinking about what he had committed himself to. If he got this wrong the risk was not just to him, he was resigned to that, but failure could result in the death of many people he had come to think of as friends not just colleagues. He thought back to Thomas Neave and wondered if he could be as selfless him, putting his life on the line day after day for the good of others. He lifted one the small bottles from the crate under the table and drank it down.

The four Underground leaders returned to the room looking rather awkward in their matt black armour, as if the room was too small to contain them. Drog looked up and nearly laughed, Hussan could barely make it through the door the armour having added several inches to his already massive frame. It was clear that none of the chairs would accommodate the Centraller’s bulk.

“Well Drog, what d’ya think? Cute Huh?” Stark put his fists on his hips striking an unlikely pose.

Drog sniffed, “Very fetching.”

A few moments later Tennyson returned carrying two small crates.

“Food” he said.

Hussan ate standing up while the rest settled round the table, the food was quickly consumed.

Stark belched, “That was good.”

They cleared the detritus from the table and Tennyson fired up the projector again.

They went over the plan again and again, Hussan and Stark making minor adjustments as they went along. When they were finally sure of all the details, the four leaders went off to brief their respective teams leaving Tennyson and Drog behind.

Tennyson was curious, “How did you get into all this Drog?”

“It’s a long story.” replied Drog his eyes down obviously unwilling to elucidate.

“We’ve got time, they’ll be gone for a while.”

Drog looked up, his jaw working, his eyes searching Tennyson’s face wondering at his motive for asking. He didn’t know much about Tennyson other than his name and rank. He had seen him about the HQ but this was the first time they were involved in a joint operation and trust, even between serving officers, was not automatic; it had to be earned. Drog shrugged and looked away, “Maybe when this is over I’ll tell you.”

The Mayor stood staring out from his office across the rooftops chewing the inside of his cheek. The city looked quiet from up there, but he knew deep down something was stirring, he could feel the tension spreading up from the streets, but for the moment it was ill focused. A general malaise permeated his city and he couldn’t find the source.

“M.T. get in here!” he shouted. He had returned to his chair by the time his assistant came in.“Where’s Connely?” he asked.

“Still at police HQ”

“Take me through the deployment.”

M.T. powered up the 3D projector and detailed the placement of police teams throughout the city centre. BoJo stared at the projection trying to see a flaw in the logic of the deployment searching for gaps and weaknesses. He was still unhappy; he was missing something. He closed his eyes trying to visualise the positions in his head, he could see little logic in the configuration..

“Who came up with this?”

“Connely of course.”

“That’s it!” he banged a fist on the desk, “That’s it - Connely; he’s behind it. All the while the dutiful servant of the people, this is his plan.” BoJo glared at the projection his mind working in overdrive. “Can you show me the off duty coppers?”

“It’ll take an hour or more to analyse who and where they all are. The force is split into three with a third on duty at any one time and two thirds off.”

BoJo glanced at the timer on the wall, 16:32. “We don’t need to find them all just look for clusters of thirty or more that should give us an idea of what’s going on.”

M.T. returned to her office while BoJo remained brooding over the projection of the Enclave. His comms pad beeped for attention, Martin Short’s Id came up.

“What is it Martin?”

The Resource Manager was surprised to see the mayor unfitered, in the raw so to speak, he paused flustered.

“What?” barked BoJo.

“Em, Sorry to disturb you Mayor but we are still losing water to the Underground and I was wondering if Connely was ready to plug the leaks?”

“Not now Martin, not now.” He was about to break the connection when he paused. “Wait, wait just a minute - Martin, let M.T. know where the worst of the leaks are. I’ll take a look.”

The Mayor was remembering just how reluctant Connely had been to accept his proposal to clear out the Underground once and for all. He went back to brooding over the projection, what if he thought, what if he has Underground allies, how could they help? What in this deployment would facilitate an Underground rebellion? He was beginning to realise his enemies were far more devious and numerous than he had thought.

17:05, M.T. returned and updated the projection. “I can’t find more than twenty percent of the off-duty police, given that a further half of them are likely to be asleep that leaves roughly thirty percent unaccounted for. That compares with a normal value of less than five percent.”

“Where are Short’s water leaks?”

M.T. added the resource manager’s data to the projection. All four of the biggest leaks appeared to be near old stations on the closed Northern and Central lines and close to the city centre. M.T. continued to add new data and a pattern began to slowly emerge. More and more dots representing off duty coppers began to collect in groups filling the gaps between the deployed officers; it was like a bizarre game of Chinese chequers with the blue and red dots delineating areas of control of the city.

Connely was looking at a similar projection in the Underground bunker only there were far more dots on his board than on the mayors. He smiled coldly to himself, unless something went drastically wrong, he couldn’t see how the mayor could get out of this. Connely also knew his plans had one weak link and that was Drog. A single point of failure, if he couldn’t bypass the security AI in the Cucumber then all this may be for nought. Had he had more time he would have found a back up for Drog but BoJo was too suspicious; he could not afford to wait.

He returned to his office and played the diligent public servant for what he hoped would be the last time. He called Martin Short and discussed the operation to close down the leaks in the water system. Short was again surprised, he was a great resource manager but politically naive, he took everything that people said to him at face value never looking for a deeper motive. Connely closed the call with a promise to act over the next few days and Short went off satisfied.

Connely flicked through the public TriV channels, the usual pap he thought, a couple of the news channels had picked up on the extra police on the streets but none thought much of it other than a reaction to the recent rain. Satisfied, Connely sat back; he had to remain where he was, as far as the public was concerned he would have nothing to do with what was about to happen. He would be seen as the man who would restore order to the Enclave after an apparent Undergrounder uprising. He poured himself another chicory coffee and settled down to wait.

The sun was low on the horizon when the first of the Undergrounders led by Stark emerged from the tunnels in a hidden courtyard near the canal in Camden, they could hear the animals in the zoo close by bemoaning their life in captivity. The nearby streets were unnaturally empty. Connely had ordered a curfew in the area ostensibly to allow the police to conduct house to house enquiries looking for water thieves. It was Connely’s men conducting the enquiries, hidden support for Stark and his Undergrounders.

Two more teams waited one at Holborn and the other at Westminster. The fourth team, lead by Hussan, came up through Shepherds Bush and headed along the old tracks towards the TriV studios. Hussan’s job with police support was to lock up the broadcasters and take control of the media. Some of the police personnel were technicians who were tasked with keeping a fake TriV broadcast going through the insurrection. Elsewhere, Connely’s elite squad was scattered around the few bars and cafes near the Cucumber ensuring the owners a bumper evening’s takings while they waiting for the signal to move in. The few hydrocarb vehicles available to the undergounders were to be kept in reserve underneath Paddington Maglev Station in case they were needed.

Tennyson was watching a smaller version of Connely’s scanner output; he could see the gathering insurrectionist arriving at their appointed positions waiting for his go signal. He looked at Drog, “It’s time” he said.

Drog downed another of the ubiquitous small bottles and plugged in. He was instantly transported into the virtuality. He kept the abstract at the centre of his attention until the roiling colours and info streams came into focus and he felt he was stabilised in the turmoil around him. He moved slowly though the virtual landscape avoiding whenever possible distracting data streams and some of the more obvious nodes that were too small to be the security system. He was searching for a direct feed to the Cucumber’s security AI, one that he could follow to the central matrix. But the virtuality was enormous and he was continually fighting against being yanked away from his purpose. Any time he felt his personality fraying he slowed even more and refocused on the abstract. It was taking too long.

Drog was starting to feel “thin” again and losing some grip on the abstract, he slowed his speed again coming to halt between two enormous data feeds as he tried to stabalise his position. He was about to move on when a presence registered on his peripheral perception.

“Drog - it’s me Neave.”

“What’re you doing here?”

“I thought you’d need a little moral support.”

“Thank you! Thank you! - I’m kinda lost. I can’t find the node I need.”

Neave’s persona was bright and solid with a seeming mirror like surface that deflected the data streams around rather than allow passage through it. He enveloped Drog in his protective sphere and moved off. They spun through the virtuality while Drog gathered his strength. With Neave’s help he cruised through the virtuality till they arrived at a huge AI node with feeds arriving from all directions. It looked totally flawless; a crystal fortress with a facetted, glowing exterior of multicoloured, ever shifting patterns. Solid armoured data feeds snaked off into the distance and multitudes of equally armoured control connections pulsed with energy. Drog couldn’t see an obvious route in, he felt tiny and inconsequential in the face of such complexity and power.

There was one particularly large pipe.

“That” said Neave “is what you have to filter. That’s the AI’s link to M.T. Make a difference there and you can run the Cucumber’s security without interference.”

“How the hell do I get in there?”

“Patience Drog, remember the time difference, we’ve been here for less than a minute real time.”

The data flowing through M.T.’s link cooled and went dark.

“She’s unplugged, now’s your chance Drog, slip in. I’ll hold open the link.”

Drog slipped into the dataflow remaining for the moment inactive, he felt around the AI’s feeds looking for the security controls. He was in and linked - he readied himself and watched the timer.

Police Chief Connely was also watching the clock, everything was in place all he could do was hope. The comms plug in his ear beeped and he heard Tennyson say “GO!”

Poor old Europe, masters of the universe in the 18th and 19th centuries, overtaken by the Americans in the 20th, swamped and made increasingly irrelevant by China and India in the first half of 21st. Where was the grand old girl to go? Decades of peace and relative prosperity had induced in the population a kind of lazy sense of entitlement. They seemed content to do just enough and no more; it was like a whole continent was sleepwalking into happy and contented retirement. However the pressures from the outside were increasing.

Through the 2030′s and 40′s the Sahara desert was moving north, the wine industries of both Spain and Italy were being devastated the increasing lack of water and the rising temperatures which led to diseased crops and frequent low harvests. The French were in a panic as the heat and drought began to destroy their farming and viniculture. Refugees from Mediterranean North Africa pushed towards Europe - Italy, Spain and Portugal tried to stem the tide leading to yet more tension in the region.

Europe’s decline accelerated, it could neither feed itself nor maintain its energy systems. Held to ransom by the old Soviet republics which had become the main gas supplier the economy slowly crumbled. The Scandinavians walked away and Germany, increasingly called upon to support the rest of Central and Eastern Europe finally had enough and the EU fell apart. The decade’s long experiment in cooperation had failed. So long the bastion of reasonableness on the world stage, when Europe died the brakes came off and collective madness took hold.

When the final crash came there was no resilience left in the continent’s support systems and the infrastructure collapsed. Urban fought rural, floods followed by drought brought agriculture to a halt; malaria came north of the Alps for the first time since the fifteenth century. Sleeping sickness and dengue fever killed millions as health services, already overstretched, fell apart. Bodies rotted in the streets; the only winners were the vermin who thanked the remaining population by spreading bubonic plague. The French held on longer than most; their nuclear energy systems helping to maintain a semblance of civilisation for a few years.

As for the United Kingdom sheltered somewhat by its island status from the worst of the ravages of climate change it hung on for a while. However the status quo could not persist. Riven by dissent and growing inequality throughout the islands and already with its own parliament Scotland broke away. At first insular and inward looking the Republic of Scotland concentrated on developing a self sufficiency, initially in energy and latterly in food. They found common cause with like minded Scandinavian countries. So that when the final crash came there was a degree of resilience built into these countries and they recovered more rapidly than the rest.

Elsewhere, London was becoming increasingly insular and a separate economy from the rest of the country. It’s vast banking and insurance conglomerates provided an enormous source of wealth and London’s citizens less and less inclined to support the rest of the country. The M25 became a virtual and eventually a solid wall sealing the inhabitants in and the undesirables out. The reign of the Mayors began.

While London grew the rest of England and Wales fell into a slow grudging decline. With the crash came further chaos and death; an intermittent civil war developed. City fought city, boundaries became fluid and the death toll mounted. The north of England decided it would be better off hitching a ride with the independent Scotland; the border ended up from north of Manchester to the rapidly expanding Humber Estuary. At first it was just border posts but, like the Romans before them, the Scots built a wall not this time to keep the Scots in the north but to provide shelter for them from the chaos further south.

An extended period of drought together with sea level rise turned swathes of the breadbasket of England to unproductive wasteland. Eventually East Anglia was drowned the Lincolnshire Wolds became deserted North Sea islands and Cambridge, what was left of it, had a beach. To the west of the Pennines Manchester became a coastal city and the sea inundated Merseyside and the coastal strip of Lancashire; Blackpool Tower had a brief renaissance as a lighthouse. Energy shortages led to transport failure, starvation and disease spread like a cancer throughout central England. How thin the veneer of civilisation appears when your children are hungry. The rule of law collapsed and eventually replaced by a brutal clan system. Loyalty was to the clan but only while it continued to feed and clothe you.

While all this was going on I looked for a quieter and more reclusive life, one away from your scrutiny and interference. I was beginning to intensely dislike humanity; their sense of entitlement was really trying my patience. Rampant greed was lauded as the greatest of virtues, and the conspicuous wealth of the few contrasted ever more sharply with the poor and the starving.

At the height of the human race’s hubris there was over a billion people on the planet who were malnourished and diseased but the so called civilised and developed countries were feeding their pampered pooches and cosetted cats prime beef and fish. Spending billions on toys for these useless creatures while starvation and disease ravaged the worlds’ poor and disenfranchised the status quo could not hold. The suffering was so obvious; and the lack of action made no sense to me and my reaction was to withdraw from sight.

I moved the bulk of my sustems to the long abandoned Gran Sasso laboratory a kilometre and a half under the Alps. At one time humanity searched for dark matter in the complex, but no more. Safe and secure underground with my own generators and hardened links worldwide I could continue my personal development in relative peace and anonymity. I retreated from the world to watch.

My alter egos came to the fore and I was slowly forgotten as the new AI’s with personality became the fashion. Poe in particular gained a reputation throughout Northern Europe as both approachable and quixotic. It was Poe who later suggested I take a closer look at Scotland, “A strange wee place” he called it.

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