Juliet almost said that she couldn’t do a job at WBD, almost bailed out on the job right there, but her paranoia about WBD spawned further worries—what if one of these operators she didn’t know found it interesting that she’d bail? What if they decided to look into things, ask around WBD about her, and see if there might be some reward for information?
With those thoughts running rampant through her mind, she sat back on her box of cleaning supplies, her palms growing clammy with stress, and subvocalized, “Angel, how big of a rot-brain move would it be to go into WBD’s main building on a job?”
“I’ll need more information to make that assessment; perhaps you should prompt Motor about what you’ll need to do tonight and how they intend to get into the building.”
“Hey,” Juliet said, clearing her throat and looking around the van; Honey had been chatting with Motor and Carn, but unless she asked Angel to play back the conversation, Juliet wouldn’t have been able to say what they’d been talking about. “Can you give us some details now we’re en route? I’d like to know what to prepare.”
“Right, that’s a good point; we don’t wanna be goofing around in the van in the WBD garage. Well, we’re going in as carpet cleaners. Our face, who we don’t get to meet, organized some kind of an accident in the department we need to access. Then, he arranged for Saguaro Scrubbers to get the clean-up job. So, we just gotta go in, scrub up some stains, and cover for January while she accesses a secured terminal. You’re looking for some kind of database file called A7749930.”
“And they’re just going to wave us through? They don’t care about our IDs?” Juliet’s mind was racing; if she went through the security check of an arcology trying to hide her facial features, they’d know something was up. No, Angel would have to project an actual face, not just scramble hers. Would the PAI be able to come up with something fast enough—something that fit her cover?
“No, no,” Motor said, pulling a thin black deck out of his blue Saguaro Scrubbers jumpsuit. “The face hooked us up with fake IDs. Temo said they wouldn’t hold up to serious scrutiny, but they’d get us through for a two-hour cleaning pass. In fact, January, that’s your first job tonight—need you to take these ID files and set ‘em up in our PAIs, you know, just so our little helpers can send the correct info when pinged at the entry.”
Juliet reached out for the deck and pulled her data cable out of her arm, plugging it in, then subvocalized, “Angel, how’s it look? Are they good enough?”
“These false identity files are rather simplistic, but they have info to satisfy every query in a standard scan. There are image files, but they don’t match the people in the van. We’ll need to alter those. I’ll use a false image for your ID and project it for any video surveillance. I think you’ll be able to enter and leave without anyone knowing it was you, even if the data theft is later discovered.”
“And for the others, we’ll use their real faces? I guess we don’t have a choice unless they have projection capabilities on their optics, right?”
“More than that, they’ll need the software to run the algorithm; it’s not as trivial as passing along a fake ID file. Also, there are only four ID files here.”
“What do you think? Is this insane? Should I bail?” Juliet was acutely aware of the other team members watching her, probably wondering what she was thinking as she went through the data on the deck.
“I don’t know, Juliet. It seems very risky to visit WBD, but it also seems like the last place they’d look for you. Unless this job is a set-up.”
“Can they tell it’s you if you hack into one of their terminals?” Juliet wondered if this whole job could be a trap, a way to fish for Angel.
“If I were a simple PAI without the ability to learn, yes. However, I can alter my behaviors—my methodologies; I can make it look like a skilled human did the work should WBD become aware of the breach.”
Juliet thought about Angel’s words for several heartbeats, her eyes closed as though she were concentrating. She thought about the rep hit if she bailed on the job, and it wasn’t a trap. She thought about Angel’s assurances, about how WBD must know her capabilities—why would they try to spot her this way if she could avoid that sort of detection? She opened her eyes and glanced at Honey, leaning against the side of the van, eyes distant. Honey trusted Temo, and Juliet trusted Honey. Couldn’t it just be a coincidence that this job was with WBD? The corp had tens of thousands of employees in Phoenix, after all.
“Okay, can you copy the ID’s over so I can unplug? I’ll hook into each team member so you can set up their fake ID.” Her mind made up, and a bit of adrenaline giving her voice a little edge, she said aloud, “Okay, team. I need to hook up to each of your data ports for a minute unless you’ve got a wireless access point. At the same time, you each need to look me in the eye for a minute so I can set up your false ID files with an accurate facial and retinal scan.”
“The face didn’t do that?” the raspy voice of Debbie called from the front of the van.
“No, and there are only four ID files . . .”
“No,” Motor said at the same time. When Juliet stopped speaking, he continued, “How would the face set up the IDs to match us? He didn’t know who Temo would put on the team. And yeah, Debbie, you’re staying with the van.”
“Easy money,” the woman said, turning the van sedately around a corner.
“‘Kay, who’s first?”
“Me!” Honey said, scooting over the paneled floor to sit in front of Juliet.
“All right,” Juliet smiled, handing her data cable to Honey, “plug that in.” Honey took the cable and reached behind her neck, feeling for her little port and then inserting it with an audible click. “Angel, show me what you’re doing, please,” Juliet subvocalized.
Several opaque windows appeared in her AUI, and she saw the ID sheet that Angel was modifying. It showed a woman in her middle years with curly brown-blond hair and the name Yolanda Gallego. Angel began to remove fields in the ID sheet, changing the age to match Honey’s better and deleting her image. “Look into my eyes,” Juliet said, drawing her words out like a performing magician. Honey’s giggle rewarded her efforts as she leaned forward and stared at Juliet.
Almost instantly, Juliet saw Honey’s image populate the little box on her ID sheet. Angel had filled in an opaque blue background, masking the interior of the van. “This field is where her unique retinal scan data goes,” Angel said, highlighting a long string of code near the bottom of the sheet.
“That should allow her to pass. I’m sending it through the connection to her PAI and setting up a daemon that will bypass the PAI’s usual response when it receives an ID query. The daemon is set to expire in six hours, but during that time, any ID queries will receive this false ID. Should I set it up to delete this information and itself after that timeframe?”
“Yes,” Juliet subvocalized, then aloud she said, “Okay, team. I’m assuming none of you have a jailbroken PAI . . .” She paused, thinking about how Tig, her old PAI, would have responded if he had heard a conversation about altering his code in any way. She sat back, thinking for a moment, then looked around the van at all the other operators.
“Can you all tell your PAIs to go offline for a minute while I go over this?” Carn started to speak, so Juliet held up a hand to forestall his words and continued, “Please. You can turn ‘em back on when I’m done.” She knew she was being overly cautious, but she didn’t like talking about illegal PAIs in front of properly behaving PAIs. What if one of them filed an exception report with its manufacturer?
“Everyone offline? You too, Debbie—I need to say some stuff that some PAIs might find objectionable.”
“Right,” Debbie rasped, “We’ll be in the garage in two minutes; I don’t need guidance at the moment.”
Juliet looked from Honey to Carn to Motor, and they each nodded, so she continued with her explanation, “I’m probably being paranoid, but I’m installing something in your PAI’s OS that might cause it to freak out if it knew about it. I don’t mean that literally, but you know how you guys get manufacturer updates over the air now and then? You know how the user agreement asks you to agree to software monitoring for quality control and all that business?”
Juliet smiled as she spoke, thinking about how she was free from such tethers now that Angel was living in her head. “I’m setting up a daemon that’ll answer ID queries for you with the false data for the next six hours. After that, it’ll delete the ID file and itself.”
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“Wait! What if my PAI notices what you’ve done when I bring it back online?” Motor asked.
“No chance; my daemon will be very subtle. I promise you this software I’m using is miles beyond any of your PAIs; I mean, none of you have any million-bit packages, do you?” Juliet looked around the van, making sure none of them had further misgivings, and then she looked at her AUI to see that Angel had indicated, with a green checkmark, that Honey’s false ID was done.
“Okay, Yolanda,” she smiled as she spoke, reaching up to pull her cable free, “you’re all set.”
“Yolanda, huh?” Honey scooted back to the side of the van and asked, “Can I turn my PAI back on?”
“Yeah,” Juliet replied, pointing to Carn. “Step right up.”
They were winding their way up into the parking garage by the time Juliet and Angel finished setting up everyone’s spoofed ID. After she finished Motor’s, he dug around in a big canvas bag and tossed blue jumpsuits to everyone. Juliet’s smelled a little like BO and marijuana and had some questionable stains on the knees and around the wrists, and she was glad she had her own clothes to wear underneath.
As they all suited up and Motor unloaded some carpet cleaning machines and a big rolling suitcase full of cleaning supplies, he said, into the team channel Juliet had set up, “Don’t even think about bringing any weapons in there. If we get stopped at the door and have to skunk this mission, I will personally devote the next month to burning you with every contact I know in the greater Phoenix area.”
“Chill, brother,” Carn’s voice said through Juliet’s audio implant, his name on her AUI lighting up with a faint amber backlight. “I don’t think any of us are that stupid.”
“What about my deck?” Juliet subvocalized.
“Can they see what’s on it? Most jackers I’ve worked with have hidden partitions for their sensitive stuff and just put music or vids or whatever on the part they want to be searched.” Motor was lifting a big carpet scrubber and grunted as he subvocalized, garbling part of his message, but Juliet figured it out through context.
“Yeah,” she subvocalized to the team, then to Angel alone, “Right?”
“Yes. The sensitive files we’ve stolen, here and there, are encrypted and hidden. There’s no chance a random security sweep would find them.” Juliet stepped out of the van but turned back to the boxes of supplies; she’d just had a thought—what if WBD had her fingerprints or DNA on file? They knew who she was; they’d been to her old job and searched through her apartment.
“Any gloves? Or hair nets, by any chance?” She frowned and added, “Forgot mine.”
Motor said, “I’ve got gloves, sure, but no hair nets. Shit, here,” he said, pulling off the maroon beanie he was wearing and tossing it to Juliet. “I ain’t gonna leave any hair behind, at least not from my head,” he laughed, rubbing a palm over his shaved skull. He watched Juliet pull it on over her tightly bound hair and grinned, “You really are the paranoid sort, aren’t ya?”
“Yeah,” Honey answered for her, “keeps her alive.”
“Right,” Juliet said, adjusting the hat, oddly enjoying how warm it was. “Thanks, Motor.”
“No worries, see that box? Grab a few sets of gloves; they’re disposable.”
Juliet pulled the perforated flap on the cardboard box, grabbed a handful of the latex gloves, size M, and stuffed them into her jumpsuit’s front pocket. Then she followed the rest of the blue-jumpsuited crew as they wheeled carpet cleaners and a supply cart toward the elevator bank. Honey slowed to wait for her, leaning against the carpet scrubber she’d been charged with—somehow, Juliet had escaped equipment lugging duty.
“You nervous?” Honey asked as Juliet caught up.
“A little. I’ve heard bad things about . . .” she trailed off and jerked her head toward the elevators.
“Yeah, no worries. Just cleaning some carpets!” Honey winked at her, and then they were in front of the elevators, and Motor was repeatedly smashing his thumb against the call button.
“Won’t make it come any faster, doing that,” Carn said.
“Does it bother you?” Motor asked, still smashing his thumb into the button.
“I don’t give a shit.” Carn shrugged.
“Relax, guys . . .” Honey started to say when the bell dinged, and the door slid open. A man wearing a suit that probably cost as much as one of Juliet’s implants walked out. He looked at their little crew through narrowed eyes, somehow looking down his nose at Carn, even though he was shorter. Carn waved at him and winked and the man hustled away into the garage.
“C’mon,” Motor said, wheeling his carpet scrubber into the elevator.
They had a short ride to the lobby, and when they stepped out of the elevator, they had to wheel all their gear through a carpeted, soaring display of excess and power. The walls of the WBD lobby were many stories high, and the interior reminded Juliet of a fancy hotel in the middle of a rainforest, so extensive were the atriums, trees, and climbing vines. She saw birds flitting about in the canopies over the atriums, and though it was brightly lit, like a summer day, the air at ground level was a cool seventy degrees.
“Those gotta be bio-genned,” Carn said, indicating a pair of beautiful, neon-bright yellow, red and blue parrots in a nearby tree. “No way they’d let real birds fly around in here shitting on their employees and visitors.”
“Ugh,” Honey said, frowning, “Hadn’t thought of that.”
They wheeled their gear up to the security checkpoint, and a corpo-sec officer wearing an old-style security uniform, like a police officer might wear in a detective vid, waved them forward through a plastic tunnel that looked like a full body scanner to Juliet. “You still feeling confident, Angel?” Juliet subvocalized.
“Yes, we’ll be fine, Juliet. Don’t forget to respond if the guard addresses you as Helen.”
“Right, thanks.”
After they’d all passed through the plastic tunnel without any alarms ringing, the corpo-sec officer asked, “What floor? You have your work order?”
“Right here,” Motor said, tapping his forehead. A second later, the guard looked at the tablet mounted on his station and nodded. “Floor one-seventy—two-hour pass. That sound right?”
“That’s us!” Motor grinned. The guard nodded and pulled four bright yellow badges on lanyards from his station drawer. He tapped the cards to a magnetic pad on his desk and handed one to each of them. “If you’re not out before the time expires, alarms will sound. If you need more time, you need to come down here and clear things with me. Understand?”
“Got it, boss,” Motor said, mock-tipping an imaginary hat. “Elevators that way?” He jerked his thumb to the rather obvious, enormous bank of elevators off to the left.
“Yep,” the guard replied, motioning them on, already looking toward a pair of men in yellow vests and hardhats carrying black cases and waiting to come through his checkpoint.
When they stopped in front of the elevators, Motor gave Juliet a fist bump and said, “Smooth.” Nobody else said anything about the subject—the team knew they were being watched from a hundred different angles while they waited there for their ride up. A bell rang on a nearby elevator, and they all hurried to get inside with their equipment.
The ride to the hundred and seventieth floor was uneventful. It took several minutes because the elevator stopped several times on the way to admit other passengers, but Carn and Motor stood in front of the door with their heavy equipment, and no one pressed the issue, preferring to wait for a less crowded car. When they arrived and stepped out into the lobby, the lights were dim, and they didn’t see anyone around. The glass doors ahead of them proclaimed, “170 - Nutrition Testing and Compliance.”
“Nobody’s here?” Carn asked, walking toward the glass doors.
“Somebody’s always here,” Motor said, jerking his head toward a little glass lens that Angel had already highlighted in Juliet’s AUI. Motor spoke further, subvocally, into their team chat, “January, this will go a lot smoother if you can do something about the cameras.” Aloud, he said, “Come on, gang. We’ve got cleaning to do.” Then he walked up to the glass doors and tapped the security pad with his temporary pass. A green LED lit up, and the doors clicked. Motor pulled them open and said, “We’ve got access to the room with the spill. C’mon.”
“Angel? Any open connections on the camera system?” Juliet asked, following the others into a dim hallway lined with glass walls and doors, each labeled with a department or person’s name.
“Yes. I’m analyzing the security.”
They’d passed through another security door, down another long hallway, and had approached another door labeled “Bio-Engineered Fruit and Vegetable Testing” when Angel said, “I believe I found an exploit that will disable individual cameras. It’s best that we only use it when needed; perhaps you should save it for when you are accessing the data point.”
“Not gonna mess with the cameras ‘til I have to,” Juliet subvocalized into the team channel. “Security’s pretty tight, and I don’t want to waste the exploit.”
“All good. All good,” Motor said aloud, emphasizing the word, then stepped through the doors.
When Juliet and the others followed him, Carn said, “Holy shit!” Juliet could see what he meant—the room was about a square acre in size with hundreds of black-topped workbenches, each equipped with a stovetop and sink, arranged in neat rows filling most of the space. The floor was red and white checked tile, so she couldn’t imagine their clean-up job was in the area.
They’d all started wheeling their equipment further into the big room when a voice called out, echoing over the tile from the far left corner, “About time you got here. Come on, my office is a fucking disaster, and I’ve got an AM meeting!”
“What the fuck?” Carn subvocalized. “We gonna have this asshole breathing down our necks? Where’s the access point supposed to be?”
“I think it’s in the office where the spill was,” Motor subvocalized. “Goddammit,” he said aloud and started wheeling his scrubber toward the voice.