The Nexus (13 page)

He led the way out onto the balcony surrounding HQ.

“Apparently,” Holiday picked up, “building a floating city is not as hard as establishing a functioning society on it.  As they developed a governmental system, Anterra’s founding fathers decided to focus upon one issue above any other.”

“Criminal justice,” said Jill.

“Precisely.  Or, more exactly, crime
prevention
.  The builders of our city envisioned the most crime-free society in history.”  He smirked.  Jill was noticing Holiday smirked a lot.  “I don’t have to tell you that this vision has not been accomplished.  Many Anterrans,” he gave her a significant look, “make their living quite outside of the law.” 
Funny how things turned out...

She ignored his gaze.  “And your department is changing that?”

“Indeed.  The work you see going on here is a critical experiment in law enforcement methodology.”

“So how does it work?”

“To answer that question,” he said, “I must first introduce you to Sherlock.”

SHERLOCK turned out to be a computer.

A really huge computer.

Jill saw the computer through a bank of bullet-proof glass doors at the end of a long hallway off of HQ.  From here Sherlock just looked like rows and rows of columns with blinking lights.

“We’ve named him after the fictional crime-fighter created by British author Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.”

“What does he do?”  It felt a little weird calling a computer “he” instead of “it.”

“To put it briefly, Sherlock is a data collector and analyzer.”

“What data does he collect and analyze?”

“Well...all of it, actually.”

“
All
all of it?”

Holiday nodded.  “Have you heard of the Digital Information Exclusivisation Act?”

Jill shook her head.

“Most people haven’t,” said the director.  “It was ratified over twenty years ago by the Anterran Congress in conjunction with the United Space Programs.  It states that all information on Anterra must be in digital form.”

“Like, computerized?”

“Essentially.”

“Isn’t pretty much all information computerized anyway in this day and age?”

“Mostly, yes.  But Anterra is the only society that requires it by law.  The same can’t be said of the Home Planet’s societies—even the most modern regions.  For example, on Earth it is still legal to own books printed on plain paper.”

Jill wrinkled her brow.  “Plenty of Anterrans own printed books.”

“They do.  But I assume you’re familiar with digital paper?”

“Sure.  You can write or mark on it, and it shows up on your computer.  You can also print on it, and the hard copy can be uploaded to another computer directly from the paper.”

“Correct.  Digital paper is hardly a new invention, but it’s only lately that it’s become inexpensive enough to be widely used.  There are microscopic devices embedded in the paper which detect whatever is marked or printed on it.  But what you may not know is that
all
paper on Anterra is now digital.”

“I thought only special kinds of printer paper were digital.”

“Most people think so.  The truth is that your personal computer will only interact with those special kinds of printer paper.   But legally, all paper on Anterra must be digital—every page of every book, magazine, newspaper, or any other published volume.”

“Even sketch pads and sticky notes?”

“Indeed.”

“Journals?  Diaries?”

Holiday nodded.  “We neither manufacture nor import any non-digital paper on Anterra.  Furthermore the devices in our digital paper are designed to send their information directly to Sherlock’s database.”

“So if I make a shopping list, Sherlock knows about it.”

“Unless your handwriting is terrible, yes.  Even then Sherlock has a copy of it on file.  And of course paper is just one small example of what Sherlock keeps track of.”

“Let me guess:  He listens to phone calls.”

“And records them all,” Holiday confirmed.

“He taps into security videos?”

“Those in public places, yes.  We’ve even planted many of our own cameras and microphones in the city’s public areas.”

“Televisions and radio broadcasts?”

“Sherlock has them all on file, of course.”

“How about my personal computer?  Can anything go on my hard drive without Sherlock knowing about it?”

“I’m afraid not.  Your computer has an invisible port built into it which transfers all of your information to Sherlock.  Any personal computer manufactured or imported by MS9 contains such a port.  The same goes for digital cameras, voice recorders, cell phones, et cetera.  If anyone snaps a photo, makes a phone call, writes an email, visits a website, posts a blog comment, writes a poem...”

“Sherlock has it on file.”

Holiday nodded.

“So why didn’t people vote down this law...this Act of Digital Exa-whatsit—?”

“Digital Information Exclusivisation Act.”

“Right.  Why didn’t people vote it down?  Who wants a government agency reading all your emails or eavesdropping on all your phone calls?”

“First of all, citizens don’t vote about laws.  They vote on representatives.  The representatives do the voting about laws.  Didn’t you take an Anterran government class?”

She ignored that last part.  “Okay, then why didn’t the
representatives
vote it down?  I assume they don’t like being spied on any more than the rest of us.”

“Probably not.  But the Digital Information Exclusivisation Act doesn’t say anything about spying.  All it says is that all information on Anterra must be digital.  The fact is, there were plenty of practical reasons for this law.  Modern societies have been shifting more and more to digital information for some time, now, whether they have laws requiring it or not.”

“So not even our government representatives know about your department?”

“Very few of them.  Our department has a small governing board which holds us accountable for our activities.”

“You mean they make sure you’re not just hoarding people’s data for your own amusement,” muttered Jill.

Holiday smirked again.  “A very good way of putting it.  The first rule of The Nexus is that we cannot review any data unless it is red-flagged.”

“Red-flagged?”

Holiday’s smirk became a smile now.  This was obviously one of his favorite topics of conversation.  “As I said before, Sherlock is not merely a data collector; he is a data
analyzer
.  Sherlock has been programmed to recognize crimes when they’re being committed.  If any data he gathers suggests that illegal activities are occurring, the data is red-flagged.  This data is then examined by one of our analysts—
human
analysts.”

Jill was skeptical.  “How can he recognize crimes when they’re happening?”

“For one thing, he knows when any information is being illegally accessed—a student hacking his teacher’s test answer keys, someone stealing the formula for a new drug compound, and anything in between.  Sherlock also recognizes the sound of gunshots or other acts of violence, and red-flags us to respond.  I could go on and on.  His programming is extensive.”

Jill scratched her head.  “But no matter how well you programmed him, there’s no way Sherlock could notice every crime that’s being committed.”

“Sherlock wasn’t made to notice every crime.  He was simply made to notice as much as possible.  And he notices a lot of things no one else could.  For example, Sherlock is equipped with state-of-the-art VOFARE—you’re familiar with VOFARE?”

“Vocal and facial recognition software.”

“Yes.  Sherlock recognizes each adult citizen of Anterra by his or her facial features and vocal characteristics.”

“So Sherlock basically knows where everyone is all the time.”

“It’s not that simple.  First of all Sherlock only tracks people in public areas.  And it takes quite a good camera angle, or quite a clean vocal sample, to make a match.  Then there are the people who change their hair color or style, get a tan, get cosmetic facial surgery, and so on.  That throws Sherlock for a loop.  But again, we don’t expect him to keep track of everything.  He sends plenty of red-flags to keep us busy.”

“What about false alarms?”

“They happen frequently, as you would expect.  Our human analysts sort through a lot of red-flagged data.  Most of the activities they look into turn out to be harmless. Many, however, do not.”

“It sounds farfetched—like something out of science fiction.”

“Believe me, the success of our department is no fiction.”

Jill still seemed unconvinced.  “I don’t suppose you could give me an example?”

Holiday shrugged.  “Just last night Sherlock noticed a man carrying a gun in a public park.  Sherlock recognized the make and model of the gun, and recognized the man carrying it.  The man had no such gun registered to his name.  Sherlock notified us immediately, and we arrested the man within the hour.  He has already confessed to stealing the gun, and planning to use it to rob a convenience store.”

Jill looked only slightly less skeptical.

“Perhaps,” said Holiday, “another example would be more convincing:  We recently asked Sherlock to help us find a certain individual.  We didn’t know what alias she would be using, or exactly what she looked like.  However, we did have a vague idea of her recent behavior, as well as a general physical description.  With Sherlock’s help we were able to track her down—though not without a great deal of difficulty.”  He leveled his steel-gray eyes at her.  “I believe you’re familiar with her story.”

Jill swallowed.  “I’ve heard of her.”

“In any case, don’t take my word for it.  Allow Sherlock to demonstrate.”  Holiday pressed a button on the kiosk located next to the glass doors.  “Sherlock—find any pertinent information regarding Jillian Branch.  Send the information to this kiosk.”

“
Of course, Director Holiday
,” an electronic voice replied from somewhere overhead.  It sounded formal and British, like Sherlock could be Holiday’s little brother.

Holiday took a page of paper out of the kiosk printer.  “Write your name here,” he said, handing Jill a fountain pen from his pocket.

Even as she was scrawling her name, the kiosk was alerting Holiday:  “
I have your search results, sir
.”

“Give me the most relevant items, Sherlock,” said Holiday.

“
Of course, sir.  There are thirty-seven known Anterran citizens with the name Jillian Branch.  I assumed your request regarded the Jillian Branch whom your department arrested recently
.”

“Correct.”

“
Facial and vocal match have been made in the following coordinates over the last several minutes
.”

The coordinates were then shown on a detailed overhead map of Anterra, zoomed to the GoCom island.  Next to the map, the kiosk displayed two live camera views—each from a different angle—of Jill standing before the kiosk.

“
The name ‘Jillian Branch’ was also written on a sheet of paper in those same coordinates seven seconds ago
.”

An image of Jill’s scrawled signature now appeared on the screen along with the camera views and the map.

“
I assume that this search was for demonstrative purposes, sir.  If my data is correct, Jillian Branch is standing less than two meters away from you at the moment.
”

“That will be all, Sherlock,” said Holiday.  He lifted an eyebrow.  “Convinced yet, Jillian?”

“Pretty,” Jill admitted.  “But I’m still not sure what this all has to do with me.”

Holiday gestured back up the hallway.  “Follow me.”

THEY circled the balcony overlooking HQ, passed through a small anteroom, and stepped into a dark, cramped chamber piled with very outdated technological devices.

“Welcome to our technology lab,” said Holiday.  “And this is our technician, Dino.”

“Dino?”

“Not my real name,” said the funny little man.  “Dino as in dinosaur—because I work with all this old technology.  Real cute nickname.  Mr. H came up with it himself.”

“Show her the videocassette,” Holiday told Dino.

“Right.”  He handed her the narrow black box.

“See the dark magnetic tape rolled inside?” said Holiday.  “For a time during the late twentieth century, this was essentially the only way to personally store video.”

Jill squinted at the video tape.  “How did they store video on this thing?”

“The tape is full of images.  A certain device would scroll through the tape and send the images onto a screen, along with audio signals to match.”

“This is the device here,” said Dino, patting the VCR Corey and Bradley had brought in.  “You hooked this thing up to a television and put the videocassette in this slot.  Of course, digital video discs pretty much totally replaced videocassettes by the end of the twentieth century.”