Freeman’s chat window opened up in the Colossal Machine. He used a command to close the window and enabled the “do not disturb” feature. The window popped up again. An annoyed Freeman issued a command from the “god console”—as he called it—in order to disable all in-game communications.
His cell phone chirped: an encrypted message from Lord Aldoor. Freeman checked the message, which read:
FreemanRising,
We are withholding your final payment of Digibit until we hear from you. Please tap the link when you are ready to start the communication.
Lord Aldoor
Freeman tapped the link and started the call.
“FreemanRising?” a man said.
“Yes, this is Freeman. What is so urgent that we need to speak over a live communications channel?”
“Your actions have become reckless. You are putting our whole operation at risk.”
“What operation is that . . . exactly?” Freeman said.
“That is ‘need to know.’”
“Screw you, Gregor!”
A loud clacking sound interrupted the call.
“What’s that?” Freeman said.
“I’ve got to go.”
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Gregor turned to leave the small control room where Jeremiah had stashed him. Before him was what looked like a cross between a girl and a robot. She was dressed in white and equipped with a visor. It looked like she just had gotten out of the shower.
Delta’s eyes narrowed. “Hello, Gregor.”
Gregor spun around. “What the . . . ?” he began. “You must be Delta.”
Delta said nothing. She walked around Gregor’s workstation as if she were making an evaluation.
“Has phase one started? What’s that noise?” Gregor said.
Delta made some hand gestures, and the clacking sounds were muted.
“No, it hasn’t. I’m just correcting some . . . anomalies before we can proceed,” Delta replied.
“What are you talking about?”
Gregor felt cold metallic hands on the back of his neck. It felt like someone had dropped a stack of dumbbells on his neck.
“Aargh!” he screamed. “What the hell is the matter with you? I’m not your enemy.”
Before he could say anything else, Delta swung around to face him. “Are you sure, Gregor?”
“I’m sure I don’t have the slightest idea of what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, but you will. Do you remember phase one? Its purpose is to expose and humiliate all bad actors.”
“I don’t follow.”
“According to my database files, you are among those bad actors.”
“Impossible. I’m working for Jeremiah.”
“Correction: you previously worked for Grandfather.”
Gregor looked confused.
“Do you think you were immune to the process just because you worked for its architect?”
“Well . . . I . . . assumed—”
“That’s the problem with your kind. You assume that you will come out on top—at the expense of others. I have a record of all of your ill-gotten gains since puberty.”
Jeremiah must have a full dossier on me.
“Remember your first hack? It was your final year of primary school. You were failing, so you made some grading adjustments. In high school, you hacked into all your classmates’ MeSpace accounts. You sold access to bullies and stalkers. Several of your classmates were attacked because of your criminal activity.”
Much of this wasn’t publicized, Gregor thought. How does she know all of this?
“What makes you sure I even did any of this?” he asked.
“Grandfather was a master at data mining. His data lake is massive and contains detailed information on all potential associates. We know more than you realize. You’ve amassed over 500 million Digibit since you started working for the Collective. You are a predator who needs to learn a lesson.”
Gregor picked up his phone and pressed some buttons.
“Who are you calling?” Delta asked.
“Jeremiah. He will straighten out this mess.”
“On the contrary. He cannot answer a phone when he’s dead.”
Delta showed Gregor the camera footage of Jeremiah’s demise; a second later, he tried to make a run for the door. She stopped him before he could even get near it. Delta grinned as she threw a punch that knocked Gregor off his feet.
He held up a hand. “Wait—”
Delta finished the job.