Revolution World (10 page)

"Seriously. You need to be careful here. We have a lot going on right now and he is a foreigner. This really isn't a good time for a romance with some mysterious stranger."

"I know, alright?" Clio said and pushed past her sister to enter the house. "I know. But I can't help liking him."

"I suppose you can't. On the bright side, you will inevitably say the exact wrong thing at the perfectly worst time. You have a gift for that, sis," Kalliope called after her. Clio just scowled by way of a reply. She knew it was true.

They both joined the cheerful group as they made themselves drinks, turned on low gentle music, and collected on the back porch to watch the fireflies.

"Hey Clio, did you hear? The news is reporting that Jack Townsend over in Austin was snatched by the terrorists," called one of the faces in the crowd. "His sister lives here. I bet she's pretty upset."

"Now is not the time to talk about tragedies," Harmony interrupted with a sad smile. "Let's drink tonight and worry about the problems of the world tomorrow."

*****

Seth maneuvered himself into a seat next to Clio. She found herself unconsciously moving closer to him or brushing against him when she talked.

Seth, on the other hand, was acutely conscious of every movement she made. He watched the moonlight play over her face and felt that no man could resist the siren song of romance in such a setting and with such a woman, even if he had been smacked on the head that day.

As Max launched into a colorful and highly improbable story that involved fleeing platoons of Canadian Mounties, Seth leaned close to Clio and asked, "So Floracopia. I understand that with the collapse of the environment, there is a great need for modified crops, but how exactly does it all work?" He really was interested, but he also liked to hear her talk.

"Oh well, before The Troubles, most crops were grown in monocultures," she started. "They'd have huge fields of just one type of potato or corn or whatever. Sometimes practically whole countries would be growing one kind of non-native crop. To do that, they had to use huge amounts of chemical fertilizers and pesticides. Not only did it destroy the local plants and wildlife that could have been cultivated, it killed the soil. There are still huge swaths of South America where nothing grows."

She went on to explain how The Troubles practically stopped the import and export of all but the most extraordinary, and thus most expensive, crops. With everything grown locally in a rapidly changing environment, gene modding became necessary to survive.

"Imagine farmers in those parts of California that used to be lush farmland but are now deserts. They contract us to provide fruit or other crops for their new conditions. We send out Thalia to take samples of their water, soil, bugs, and any crops they currently have growing. I try to use natives as a base because they are best adapted to the area, but sometimes it's not possible. Once a crop has done well in an area, we are usually called in to make complimentary species, either other crops or farm animals."

Seth nodded and murmured encouragement. He also admired the way her eyes lit up when she spoke about a topic she loved.

She explained that they usually tested several potential splices in their greenhouses before sending out the most likely candidates. She told him about a project that required highly productive pollinators that could survive extreme cold.

"Those bees could make a hive on an icicle after I got through with them," she finished.

"It seems strange that with gene modding so commonplace, the UN and the US would be so vehemently against human splicing," he commented after he'd gone to get them more drinks. The group was winding down. Seth could see Harmony yawning and knew the evening was drawing to a close.

"It is silly that humans should be trickier than other animals, but they are. Mostly because no one cares if a gene mod in a cow makes it die younger of a heart attack. If it produces enough calves and milk, that is. And if a spliced strain of corn gets cancer, no one notices after they've eaten it. People, on the other hand..."

"People are complicated," Seth concluded. He gestured to Max who was stretched out on a bench and openly snoring.

Although he wanted to wrap his arms around her and smother her with kisses, he settled for a lingering hug as he collected his uncle and made the journey back to their site.

CHAPTER EIGHT

"O
h sweet mother of vacuum tubes," cried Max the next morning in response to the vile bleating of the alarm. Max staggered up the stairway from his rooms and beheld a group of uniformed men standing in the newly finished lobby of Omerta's new Texas headquarters.

When a large colonel advanced towards him, Max shied like a colt presented with a bit and saddle. His head throbbed. His eyelids were crusty. He'd had three hours of sleep. Max couldn't deal with an invasion of American armed forces today. He wheeled around, staggered back to the stairwell and slammed the door shut.

The colonel stopped, chewed his cigar and scowled. He looked askance at the group of uniformed men. After a minute, Seth popped out of another corridor holding his beeping handheld over his head like a sword.

"Uncle! Show yourself! I'm going to kick you into next week. Never again will you wake me up for your stupid jokes," he was yelling when he saw the colonel. He stopped. His jaw dropped to his chest. He hesitantly ran a hand over his wild hair and stubbly chin. The colonel looked spectacularly unimpressed with him.

"Ah. Do you know it's Sunday?" Seth asked feebly.

"I do, son. But Sunday is no excuse for sloth and licentious behavior," the colonel sniffed.

Seth stopped himself from rolling his eyes, but it was difficult. He extended a hand. "Well sir, you have caught me at a disadvantage. Is there some reason your group is here today?" Seth tried to sound business-like instead of irritated.

The colonel grabbed his hand and shook it like a terrier might shake a rat.

"Son, you people put a warehouse full of terrorist plots and enemy sins in our great country. You must have been expecting a visit from America's protectors eventually," the colonel declared belligerently. Seth squinted at him. Surely the man was joking. Who talked like that?

Gloria breezed into the room on a cloud of delicately scented perfume, looking like an advertisement for clean living. Seth wondered if he'd ever actually seen Gloria with a hair out of place. It just wasn't natural.

"What a pleasure to have such a fine-looking group visit our insignificantly little shop," she purred as she oozed up to the colonel and allowed him to take her hand. Seth sighed with relief and began edging out of the room. Gloria was having none of that. She snaked a shapely arm around him and gracefully shoved him over for introductions.

The colonel was thoroughly charmed by Gloria. He introduced himself as Colonel Roger Bucksmith and explained that the group in the lobby represented DARPA, the agency responsible for providing new technology to the military. Gloria graciously invited them to breakfast.

"Had breakfast hours ago," the colonel said brusquely.

"We have gotten an unusually late start today," Gloria replied. "All Omerta employees were at a social function last night honoring Bigfoot Wallace, a local hero." Then she allowed a hint of coldness to creep into her voice. "Had we known you would be gracing us with your presence this morning, we would have explained that we cannot allow you access to our facility. As a security firm, Omerta is not in the habit of giving tours. We can't exactly throw open the doors to anyone who drops by for a chat. I'm sure you understand."

There was one man there dressed in a cheap business suit instead of a uniform. He stepped forward now and flashed Gloria a broad smile. "Naturally, we appreciate your security concerns. In fact, concerns over security brought us out today," he said easily. "I'm Bill Baker. We would love to join you for breakfast."

Seth hoped that the move to the dining area would give him a chance to escape back to his room, but Gloria kept her iron grip upon him. With her other hand, she tapped away at her handheld, calling other Omerta workers to get breakfast together.

Max eventually made an appearance, a much cleaner and more coherent appearance. Gloria was always threatening to deliver electric shocks to them via handheld if they failed to do her bidding. Seth wondered if she'd actually done it this time. Max was rubbing his hand and wincing.

Gloria gave a quick tour and explained that the satellite office was to find a more reliable energy source for their equipment than Omerta's island, as well as increase the dispersal of their data.

"There are only about a dozen of us here during the construction phase. But even when we are fully functional, there won't be more than twenty people in residence at any given time," she told them.

While the colonel loudly delivered an unwelcome monologue to everyone in the room on the joys of sacrificing for America, Bill told them why DARPA was here.

"DARPA has been interested in working with your company for a long time," he began. "We have approached your company in the past about helping us further our research into encryption methods." He then droned on about DARPA's efforts to win wars through technology.

A couple years ago, Max and Seth had created a program for their handhelds that allowed them to silently enter text and send it to others unobserved. They both also made a habit out of wearing a microbud in one ear to receive messages like this. The microbud transmitted sound directly into the wearer's auditory nerve. Silent to everyone else, it was very popular with teenagers who wanted to tune out their parents and bliss out to their favorite song. Seth's was barely distinguishably from his ear, while Max's microbud was a sparkly jewel.

Max and Seth did this primarily so they could trade snarky comments in meetings. Omerta Board of Director meetings were deadly dull. They placed their handhelds on one knee under the table and began the series of taps and gestures that made up their sign language.

Max sent, "A couple years ago, DARPA asked us to give them our encryption algorithms. Just give them the basic component of our success. For free! And we both know that the minute DARPA gets hold of anything, the American government would classify it and then declare war on us for using 'their proprietary research.' That's the excuse they used to invade Bolivia last year. Can you believe these jerks? We laughed them out of the building."

Seth smiled to himself. He privately thought that none of the DARPA guys would be smart enough to understand the algorithms even if he explained them.

"We have got someone setting up a defensive perimeter right now, don't we? How on earth did these guys just waltz in here?" he sent to Max.

"Of course, it's already set up. " Max sent back. "We just forgot to turn it on yesterday. We overestimated the intelligence of our opponent apparently. We thought they'd try to spy on us or rifle through anything we sent home. Who knew they'd just wander in? Bad news, though. There are more troops outside. They appear to be prepared to storm the place. Also some of them are roaming around, trying to poke their noses into everything. Like we don't lock our doors."

"Obviously we don't. We left the front door wide open," Seth replied. "When we get them out of here, the defense perimeter goes up and doesn't come down for anything."

Max grimaced. This wasn't his best morning ever. He heard Gloria telling Bill, "Oh yes, all Omerta employees live here in the complex. We are hiring some local contractors, but since this facility is also a UN sanctioned embassy, we really cannot have American citizens doing the work."

She paused. "You do realize you have violated UN protocols by coming in here, right? A host country may not enter the representing country's embassy. We have received no formal declaration of war. What did you hope to accomplish?"

The colonel leaned forward and answered her question. "Just because you Omerta people bought off the UN doesn't mean all that legal hocus-pocus is going to impress us here. You are in the Unites States of America now. If you are harboring enemy secrets, then you are terrorists. And we know what to do with terrorists here." He smiled like a cat looking into a goldfish bowl. Seth entertained uncomfortable visions of the prisons that America was so famous for.

Bob the Bureaucrat interrupted, "Now, we aren't looking to start a fight. We just want some help with this terrible war we are in right now and we think you people could provide that help."

"Look, seriously, enough with all the witty banter. What do you want?" Max interrupted, holding a pale hand to his throbbing head.

Bill gave a small smile. "We want access to the data in your computers concerning certain institutions and governments. Not that many. We know you advertise that your encryption methods are mathematically impossible to break, but Lineman here says they aren't." He nodded at one of the uniformed men in the back, a somewhat shabby little man who smirked at Seth. Seth looked up to make sure the cameras recorded this man. He wanted to find out exactly who this hateful little creep was.

The little creep cleared his throat. "The mathematics involved might be difficult and time consuming to solve, but not impossible." The man had a very nasal voice.

Seth tried to look shocked. "Oh? I really thought those codes were unbreakable. How shocking. Perhaps we could discuss this further sometime? How did you arrive at this conclusion, without knowing our encryption method or the equations involved?"

Seth knew perfectly well the codes were breakable. But he also knew that Omerta had the only system in the world capable of breaking them. He designed it that way. But there was no way this little worm would know that. The whole encryption method had multiple layers of code and several different security measures. The kernel of the system involved a method of randomly generating the encryption equations. Even if he explained the method, they'd never be able to crack the encryption since it always changed.

"Well, I'm afraid that's classified," Lineman sniffed.

"He knows nothing," Max sent him via handheld. Max also included many colorful expletives to more vividly convey his disappointment in how the day was shaping up.