The Nexus Series: Books 1-3 (10 page)

She kept
going.  “Listen, you have no reason to believe me.  But I promise
you, the minute I step out of line again, I’ll be the first one to bring myself
back to jail.”

A touch of
softness appeared in Corey Stone’s hardened expression.  His gun dropped
slightly.

“This is the only
chance I’ve got, Corey.  I know I don’t even deserve it, but this is
it.  You know it.  Please don’t take it away from me.”

He sighed and
slowly holstered his gun.  “In his office,” he said, gesturing to the stairway
off the side of the wide lobby.

“Thanks,” she
whispered.

By the time Corey
could bring himself to look her direction again, the office door was closing
behind her.

THE
last time she’d been in this room, she was handcuffed and accompanied by two rather
large men in armored uniforms.

Giles Holiday
stood from his chair behind his desk.  His expression was
unreadable.  The slightly raised eyebrows may have meant surprise, or
maybe amusement.  Maybe neither.

“Purpose,” said
Jill.

His steel-gray
eyes told her to go on.

“If I did
something with my life,” she said, “that I would do no matter what, even if it
meant giving up all the money and all the comfort and all the convenience in
the world, then what would I have?”

He smiled.

They said it at
the same time:  “Purpose.”

“You knew the
answer all along,” said Holiday, “didn’t you?”

“Somewhere deep
down, I guess I did.  You were right:  It’s the one thing I’ve never
had.”

“Until now,” he
said.  He took a touch screen from his desk drawer and walked over to
Jill.  On the screen was a lot of fine print.  “The contract,” he
said, handing Jill the electronic pen.

She signed the
line at the bottom.

“Welcome to The
Nexus, Jillian.  Let me show you around.”

12

“WHY
was Anterra built, Jillian?  Why did the United Space Programs create it
in the first place?”

Jill knew what
answer to recite.  Any Anterran who had gone to school past the third
grade knew.  “The nations of the Home Planet were becoming more and more
corrupt.  The United Space Programs wanted to build a better place for
humanity—a place that was more advanced, more progressive, safer.”

Holiday
nodded.  They were standing at the back of his office, where the wall
panels had slid into the ceiling and revealed a bank of windows.  They
looked down on the great floor of HQ, abuzz with activity.

“The floating
city was to be a step toward heaven—literally,” Holiday continued.  “As
you know, the first eight metropolitan satellites were largely
experimental.  Engineers from all over the world worked on them. 
They had a lot of problems to solve.  How would they create an illusion of
gravity similar to the gravitational force felt on Earth?  How would a
breathable atmosphere be maintained?  Finally they built MS9, the first
inhabitable satellite city.  Of course, as it turned out, our biggest
problems have not been engineering problems at all.”

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.  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 looked at
him questioningly.  “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, etcetera.  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.

“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?”

“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 gave her a significant
look.  “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.