"Sherlock, do we still need to visit Professor Tanaka's widow? Have you made any progress in accessing his private files through his home network in Osaka?" Bill asked, hoping for a breakthrough.
"No luck so far, Bill. The Professor's private network remains isolated from the world data net. If it were connected, I would have been able to crack the security. It seems we'll need physical access," Sherlock replied, a tinge of frustration in his voice.
"Alright then, we have four hours until our trip to Tokyo. Let's utilize this time for reconnaissance and strategize our approach when we meet Mrs. Tanaka. I don't want to reopen old wounds, but we need to persuade her to grant us access to the network without revealing our concerns about the hacker. We need to establish a sense of empathy to gain her trust," Bill instructed.
"Ada, please gather as much information as you can about Mrs. Tanaka. We need to understand her background and find common ground to connect with her," Bill requested, relying on Ada's vast data retrieval capabilities.
"With certainty, Bill. I'll gather all available data on Mrs. Tanaka," Ada assured him.
"Considering the capabilities of our hacker, we should be prepared for any physical sensors he might employ to monitor events. We can't afford to be caught off guard," Bill added, reminding his team to stay vigilant.
As Bill sipped his coffee from the replicator, he immersed himself in the data, plotting his course for their upcoming destinations. Japan first, followed by Beijing, Alaska, and Toronto as potential next locations if new information emerged.
With their preparations underway, Bill and his council delved deeper into their review, meticulously planning their search for answers.
Bill stood outside the magnificent residence that had once belonged to the late Professor Tanaka. He had ditched the Li Wei form in the capsule and altered his own in less extreme ways to retain some measure of anonymity. The passage of time had weathered the house’s facade, but its grandeur remained. Memories of the tragic MIT implosion, which had claimed the professor's life and many of his friends at MIT over 50 years ago, resurfaced in Bill's mind. Taking a deep breath, he gathered his thoughts and approached the front door.
The door swung open, revealing an elderly woman with a wistful smile on her face, Mrs. Tanaka herself. Time had etched lines of sorrow and resilience onto her countenance, a testament to the profound loss she had endured. Bill met her gaze with a mixture of respect and empathy as he introduced himself.
"Mrs. Tanaka, my name is Bill Mitchell. Please accept my sincerest condolences for the loss of your husband, Professor Tanaka. He was an exceptional scientist whose brilliance continues to inspire many."
Mrs. Tanaka's eyes welled up with tears as she nodded, her voice filled with a mix of gratitude and sorrow. "Thank you, Mr. Mitchell. Sota’s passing still feels like yesterday, even after all these years."
Bill's voice softened as he continued, mindful of the delicate emotions tied to the past. "I apologize for reopening old wounds, Mrs. Tanaka. However, I believe there may be valuable information within your husband’s private files that could shed light on an important matter. It relates to his groundbreaking research at MIT, his research may help me achieve what his team was denied."
Mrs. Tanaka's gaze grew curious, intermingled with a touch of melancholy. "What kind of information are you seeking, Mr. Mitchell? After all these years, I thought everything related to Sota’s work had been discovered."
Bill paused, his eyes meeting Mrs. Tanaka's with sincerity. "I’m sorry Mrs. Tanaka, but much of his work was lost with the destruction of the MIT campus and the area surrounding Boston. I hope that accessing his private files could uncover insights that could still shape our understanding of his legacy."
Mrs. Tanaka's expression softened, a blend of nostalgia and curiosity. "Sota dedicated his life to his work. If there's a chance that his research can continue to make an impact, I would be honored to grant you access to his private files, Mr. Mitchell. Please come in."
Bill's heart swelled with gratitude for Mrs. Tanaka's willingness to revisit the past and allow him to delve into the secrets that lay dormant within her husband’s private records. Together, they crossed the threshold, ready to honor the professor's memory and explore the untapped depths of his scientific endeavors, forever intertwined with the lingering sense of loss that echoed through the halls of his once-vibrant home.
Bill left the Tanaka residence with teary eyes. Mrs. Tanaka was gracious and provided access to Dr. Sota Tanaka’s files with very little prompting, but the visit was difficult for both him and her. Ada had isolated the networks while he visited to prevent observation. Bill knew that downtown Tokyo would be teeming with live gamers from the ThousandWorlds as school let out for the day. His smart suit reconfigured into one of the newer masked heroes from the latest popular game, the Crusaders. He would blend right in.
“Sherlock, did you learn anything from the visit?”, Bill asked.
“Yes, Bill. I discovered from the files that Tanaka-san was much more than just a visiting researcher. He has deep ties with CIRO, the Japanese equivalent of the CIA. The Japanese government appears to have been interested in the MIT ZPE project and was using Prof. Tanaka to monitor the developments. His files are quite extensive. He had acquired all the blueprints on the experimental apparatus. He also appears to have taken many personal notes from many of his fellow researchers. This is a windfall of information.”
“Any indications on what went wrong?”, Bill asked.
“No, Bill. Tanaka seemed to think they were headed down a dead end and wanted to reconfigure the experiment. There are some similarities in approach to your setup, but their version of the Tesseract circuit is very different. I don’t understand the details of the technology. You may want to review it.”
“Good work, Sherlock. For now, we’d better get going to Beijing, our next target.” Bill excitedly walked away from the Tanaka residence down the busy street and headed further downtown towards the Metro station. The streets were overflowing with people.
Body modification technology had unleashed a flurry of specialized body shapes and extreme fashion choices. A 20th-century comic convention event would be tame by comparison to Tokyo’s everyday standards now. Many of these people brought their favorite games back with them into the real world, and many of them had weapons.
Bill’s eyes darted to a group of Band of Brother fighters, the latest installment of a World War two strategy and virtual shooter game. Bill could feel Musashi tapping into his sensorium. The swordmaster being on edge was never a good sign. His tactical intuition was second to none, something was about to go down.
Bill paused at a bookstore, pretending to look at the best-seller lineup in the display window. He pulled Ada into the foreground of his mental and sensor augmentation to manage his sensorium as he extended it. His internal map of the world expanded. His many integrated sensors lit up, filling his world map with detail. Infrared, ultraviolet, terahertz, lidar, acoustic, and more activated. Ada tied in local sensors from public cams as Bill’s custom nano motes expanded to invisibly surround him. His awareness of his surroundings out to 10 meters was detailed and pervasive. With a significant portion of his augmentation processing dedicated to forming and filtering his senses, he could only ramp his thought speed to five times normal.
[What spooked you, Miyamoto?] Bill asked with a thought to his daemons. He made a show of inspecting the books on display, but he and all his daemons were reviewing the world around him.
[There is one extra Band of Brothers cosplayer, slightly away from that group of three. He is pretending to be part of the group, but he is not. He is staying in their blind spot and I believe he is tracking us.] Miyamoto explained.
[Hmm. He is not alone. His focus shifts between us and his apparent fellows.], Sherlock said as he highlighted several other people on the street on Bill’s internal world map. [This one’s training is suboptimal. His compatriots are much better. They all seem to be in separate groups and are actively tracking us. This is a very old-school methodology. Unlikely to be gamers, I suspect government agents. More used to boots on the ground instead of using technology.]
[Hmm, but why would they be tracking me?], Bill asked. [The UN Treaty of 2080 eliminated all customs and immigration tracking to networked citizens. I haven't even been on the planet for years, I shouldn't be bearing any alert flags.]
[Perhaps this is not about you, but rather your visit to the house of a high-ranking CIRO operative, Colonel Sota Tanaka.], Vergil suggested. [And now you are carrying his databases. They might very well consider those to be state secrets.]
The timing of the encroaching disguised people was impeccable. Before Bill could think to upload and erase the data from his augs, all the public wireless connections shut him out and a powerful jamming signal disrupted the area. He shuddered as his fully expanded sense net caught the signal like a haymaker to his jaw. Several others on the street flinched under the onslaught, but many were still completely unaware of the changes. I may be the only one cut off from wireless access then, it seems to be focused on me, Bill thought.
[I can't lose this data, my research depends upon it. We have to get free of them and get our access back to the net so I can upload the data. Damn it all to hell! I’m not sure if they can legally restrict the data or not. I can’t risk it, better to ask forgiveness rather than permission. If we can slip out of their box, even for a minute, I hope we can avoid trouble. It looks like we need to use Leo’s new modifications. Everyone, get ready for “Shell Game”.]
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Bill quickly made his way to the Metro station. He was greeted by a throng of people, making it easier for him to blend in. Miyamoto's warning was still fresh in their minds, and they kept a sharp lookout, ready to take evasive action at a moment’s notice.
The team made their way to the densest section of the station, the food courts. Bill’s nerves were on fire as Leo’s new modifications began altering his body under the skin. The food courts towered both up and down with foglet-driven streams for walkways and elevators, and hundreds of tiny restaurants created a miasma of food smells. His smart clothes' inner surfaces began to unravel, timing would be critical. The supposed agents had begun to move in, closing their trap. If he didn't make his move soon, they would collar him and potentially take Tanaka's data.
[There is our best target, 3 levels down, 120 feet in front and 10 feet to the right, just entering the restrooms. We have observed four males leave the room and none other have entered in the last minute. Let us hope we have privacy for the shell game to work,] Miyamoto said calmly.
[Bill, we have two contacts! Active tracking motes have adhered to your back and left pant leg, ] Ada said, slightly panicking. [Make that three. Left sleeve.]
Bill picked up his walking pace and leapt over the level’s observation rail. He fell like a rock, intentionally not entering a foglet levitation stream. He landed on all fours like a cat perfectly absorbing his kinetic energy and even using the rebound to smoothly bounce into a swift walk to the restroom entrance. Behind him his world map showed him the agents breaking cover to close quicker. A second later he entered the restroom and found his target. A man roughly his size and decked in Apocalypse Punk fashion. Bill’s nervousness evaporated as he flowed into the room with his augmentation power ramping. Bill pulled a credit chipset from his pocket and held it out.
“Excuse me, buddy. I think you dropped this.” Bill said.
The man looked down first, Bill's enhanced mental speed enabled him to pick up a series of his micro-expressions. Annoyance, confusion, comprehension, and finally greed.
“Sorry about this. I hope this chipset makes it worth your while.” Bill said.
This man looked up as he grabbed the offered chipset, the annoyance, and anger returning as he heard and understood Bill’s words. Before he could say anything, Bill’s form exploded in a flash of incandescent light, and a combined EMP and subsonic blast. Bill’s smart suit shredded and peeled away in the blast. But the flying threads were not randomly flying away, they wrapped the disoriented man taking the tracking motes, still attached with them as the suit reformed around the stunned man. Bill’s body quickly reconfigured to mirror the other man's Apocalypse Punk style. Bill spun and walked out, effectively trading places with the man who now wore the masked Crusader outfit and the tracking motes.
As Bill exited, he had been roughly pushed aside by several men who were rushing into the restroom. With only a brief angry retort (as might be expected), Bill turned away and left quickly as screaming shouts sounded off from within. Even more of the agents, wearing a myriad of disguises, were quickly moving in. Bill calmly walked through the wave of rushing people and entered the nearest metro maglev car.
[I can’t believe that worked. Good job Leo!], Bill snickered as he sat at the very end of the tram car. The occupants were mostly kids and low-level businessmen and women. Seeing his punk outfit, they either moved to the front of the car or even left it entirely, seeking a safer car.
Bill laughed out loud trying to get into character. Maybe I should get a surly teen punk daemon to better assume my disguise, Bill thought. Lacking that skillset, he did the most disagreeable thing he could think of. He reconfigured his spiky shoulder pads into speakers and blasted out some high-decibel Apoc Metal. Clenching his teeth against the decidedly rancid noise, he bobbed his head in time with the crashing drum beats.
The tram chimed, signaling its imminent departure. Before the doors could close an old man pushed into the car, wheezing from the close call of the choosing door. The old man stumbled and had to use a cane to recover his balance. Bill frowned. In this golden era, even aging had been solved. He didn't understand how or why anyone could refuse such a gift. The old man sensed Bill’s regard and looked very afraid immediately and cowered back to the door. Bill shook his head and turned away from the elderly man. He wouldn't play the role to the extent he would further bother any of these people more than he had already.
Bill was surprised when a scant seconds later he felt a thump on his broad back.
“So clever to slip out of the grip of Tokyo's finest peacekeepers, but dumb to turn your back on anyone until you have truly escaped.” The elderly man's wheezing voice spoke from directly behind him. Bill’s shock was shortly followed by a real one as the cane's head punched a needle directly into his back. Ice raced through his veins while lightning locked down his muscles. His last confused thoughts were, a conductive poison? What a novel attack...
Bill woke up with a start, his head pounding. He was groggy and disoriented, but he knew he had to act fast. He looked around and saw that he was in a small room with white walls and bright fluorescent lighting. There was a large display on one wall with a single door and a small inset window on the opposite wall. His smart suit was gone, replaced by a cheap orange jumpsuit. He got up and walked to the door, but it was locked. He tried to remember how he got here. He fired up his dormant augmentations and ramped up his cognition speed.
[Everyone? Can you hear me?], Bill whispered.
[Yes, Bill. We’re here. Are you okay?], Ada replied.
[Yeah, I’m okay. But I’m locked up in some kind of detention room. Do you know where I am?], Bill asked.
[I’m sorry, Bill, we were offline when your augmentations were deactivated.], Sherlock answered.
[This cell appears to function much like the hyper tube capsule and Leo’s new Foglet Faraday cage toy. Our senses cannot penetrate it.], Ada added.
With Ada’s comment, Bill opened his mind to his sensorium and his EM vision was blinded by intense waves of interference. Bill heard a crackling of static as a speaker was activated in the room. The display came to life showing a riot of colorful images. A smaller window opened in the large screen showing a familiar face, the old man from the subway. The intercom transmitted his scratchy voice.
“Most fortuitous timing, my mysterious guest. I am glad to see you awake and none the worse off despite my little exchange of pointers.”, the old man said slowly.
“I must apologize for my rude behavior. I was in a very foul temper, as I have lost a standing bet with my dear departed colleague, Colonel Sota Tanaka. He said that his work was of such importance that eventually, foreign agents would seek out his files. I called him a self-important buffoon with delusions of grandeur, but I guess he gets the last laugh, eh? Now, I must pour a whole bottle of sake out for him, may he rest in peace.”, the old man wheezed slowly with a sad distorted chuckle.
Bill opened his mouth to speak and then was startled to realize that he was still fully ramped in maximum cognition speed. The intercom and display must also be ramped to fifty times the normal speed. The old man’s eyes twinkle upon seeing his realization.
“Ah, I see you are a very quick thinker. Ha-ha, quick indeed. My jokes are the funniest as they come from me, and I am a very entertaining host. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Deputy Director Tetsuo Mori. You are a remarkable man. No loose DNA whatsoever. Your skin is composed entirely of custom smart materials. My little poke didn’t yield any blood either. Your body is heavily augmented. Quite inconvenient for us to be unable to perform a DNA match for identification. In fact, the only identifier we could find on your person were some microscopic specks of regolith. Who are you? Are you affiliated with the Lunar Authorities?”, the old man continued through the intercom.
Bill activated his augmentation speakers to answer the man with a high-speed audio burst like the intercom used.
“Why have you detained me? What is going on? I am just visiting here.”, Bill sent.
“Oh, dear, my apologies. You see, I am nominally in charge of counterterrorism here in Japan, and I answer only to the CIRO director Hattori. Such a mysterious visitor, and with such capable augmentations. We merely need to ask some questions. One of my duties is to monitor the land for new technologies that might be pushing the boundaries of our regulations. Your augmentation is very advanced indeed.” The old man Mori continued.
“By law, we cannot detain you for questioning for more than 72 hours, but with high-speed cognition that should be more than enough time, eh? By my calculations, at this speed, that would effectively be the equivalent of 150 days. That was quite the interesting trick you pulled to bypass my men. Would you like to know how I saw through your ruse?”, Deputy Mori continued.
Despite the aggressive context, Bill very much wanted to know. He had thought the shell game protocol had been executed flawlessly. “Pardon?” he said, hoping to keep the man talking without committing to anything. Bill, with his sensors blocked by the room's EM field, tried to activate his custom foglets to surround the room and improve his understanding of his cell’s weaknesses. He was surprised to find his augmentations no longer taking his commands. His neural link connections were being spammed by the EM fields. He was locked out from accessing anything beyond his mental augmentations!
“Ah yes. CIRO takes its responsibilities very seriously, monitoring the land for terrorism with special attention to advanced technologies crossing our borders. All of Japan’s travel hubs house AI, whose sensorium encompasses their entire area. Cameras and microphones throughout the stations are their eyes and ears, and the floors and walls are their skin. While there are no cameras in the restrooms for privacy, our AI friend always knew where you were by your very footsteps.”, Mori said.
Bill shared a brief smile. He appreciated that his protocol didn’t fail in execution but at a more conceptual level. Now that he understood the counter to his technique, he could improve it even further quite easily by grabbing his target and jumping into the air to confuse their AI’s tracking.
The display around in the inset window of Mori which had continued to strobe with a colorful variety of images; famous buildings, animals, movie scenes, shapes, and more had finally settled into a boring beige background. Bill was thankful for small favors; it was distracting with all the other jamming going on in the cell. Now he couldn’t even shut it off to avoid the static.
“Now, let us get to business, yes? Did you know my friend Sota Tanaka?”, the deputy director continued through the intercom.
Bill’s thoughts whirled, remembering Sota from his brief meetings with the man in Boston. They were both adjunct professors at MIT shortly before Bill moved on to more lucrative work with the Mars Terraform company. That job had saved Bill’s life, as he would not have been able to resist witnessing the ZPE team's experiment if he had been in town. Bill shook his head, still muzzy from being knocked out.
“Ah, very good. I see that you did indeed know him. MIT then, his last assignment?”, the elder Mori continued. Bill gawped as he couldn’t help but picture his time at MIT in the autumn at the old man’s mention of it. In his muddled thoughts, he realized that the old man’s poison must still be in his system and affecting his thinking.
“Very good. Yes, indeed. the northeast of the Reformed United States is very beautiful in the fall, isn’t it?”, the old man cackled. “Now we are making excellent progress, aren’t we? Now enough of these pleasantries. We must get serious, yes? Who are you? And why did you visit the Tanaka residence?”
Bill’s confusion suddenly cleared with a jolt of comprehension and fear. He had heard of this technology but thought it was only a rumor. His cell was a giant fMRI machine. The man had a method to monitor his surface thoughts! And somehow the EM fields had locked his cognition speed at its maximum as well.
[Virgil, cut me off from my hearing right now! You’re in charge. Please manage the conversation without answering anything but keep a recording for me! Moneta, activate my internal music, full blast! George, show me some old war movies or something! Quickly, anything unrelated to our current mission to keep me distracted. I can’t even think about our mission while I’m in this cell.], Bill said desperately before he could think about answering the old man’s questions.
As Bill immersed himself in the images and noises drowning his flow of thoughts, he darkly thought to himself, Can I keep this up for 150 days of subjective time? He was clearly getting a read from me, but I have no idea how much he can get.