The Mouse's eyes went wide; he shook his head. You're crazy. I can't do that again so soon. Besides, I'm sure they've got a tighter lock-down on the codes.
I just want one city block. Any kind of distraction will do, really. Maybe you could tweak Traffic Control this time. I tried to put a smile into my electronic voice. Ithought you could do anything. Rule the world, you said. Are you going to disappoint me?
My page said that, not me. Anyway, forget it. Mouse's head bobbed back and forth more frantically now. Even if I was able to do it, you'd still be surrounded by armed cops, half of them ex-military. Besides, you can't afford that kind of thing. Remember, I saw your credit counter. I like you a lot, Dee, but not this much. No way. No. Way.
The door flew open and crashed against the wall. In surprise, I pushed the chair away from the table. Dorshak rushed in and headed toward me.
"She's got a signal coming in, you stupid fuck," he yelled over his shoulder to the FBI agent. "Shut her down! Shut her down!"
Mouse!
Dorshak's targeting computer presumed I'd stand up, which was a fairly reasonable assumption. But instead, I dived under the table, and his arms grasped the empty space. I heard the chair catch his knees. Unable to stop, both of them slid into the wall with a crash.
From under the table, I saw the perfectly cuffed pantlegs of the FBI agent as he danced back and forth, unable to decide which way to go. I crawled toward the open door. The sound of the chair being tossed aside with a curse alerted me that Dorshak was hot on my heels.
Static assaulted my senses. The connection to Mouse was severed by some jamming device. Old reflexes kicked in, and I switched to the emergency police frequency.
Situation in progress in detention level three. Request backup immediately. It was Dorshak.
Belay that order. FBI in control of the situation. We have jurisdiction on all terrorist cases. We assume full responsibility for the situation, I sent via a satellite feed in Washington, DC. It was an illegal and obvious hack, but I didn't have time to wrestle up an official tag before Dorshak grabbed my ankle.
'Try to belay this," Dorshak hissed between clenched teeth. As he yanked me back, I wrapped my arms around a table leg and hugged it close.
Just then, the lights went out.
NY Times Opinion Page/Letters to the Editor; April 7, 2076
OPPOSITION TO LETOURNEAU
What bothers me the most about the New Right's presidential candidate Etienne Letourneau is that I've never met the man. Certainly, I've been present at his on-line rallies and seen his avatar debate Rabbi-Senator Grey on the entertainment band. I've even been on his virtual tour of the "Letourneau Future."
Yet, I've never seen the candidate in real time. Rabbi-Senator Grey hails from New York, and I've seen him talk, real-time, at the Temple Headquarters. I shook his hand. It brought me back to a time, before the war, when candidates were expected to go out and meet the people.
Letourneau sits on high, in his secluded Colorado mountain retreat, surrounded by clean air, and hand-picked disciples. Some of us might find that lifestyle enviable, but it's a sham. He lives only through the LINK, not on the real streets of America. Letourneau's "Future Tour," as slick and appealing as it may be, seems to completely ignore real-time problems – like wire-addiction, crime, and those hundreds of people who still live without the LINK due to poverty or religious persecution.
Rabbi-Senator Grey has a working plan to bring the LINK'S wealth to real-time people. Because of this he seems cynical, dark, and negative, but, in my opinion, he's just the opposite. What Rabbi-Senator Grey represents is a positive change for real America, not more promises of entertainment bands for the apathetic and private financial bands for the rich.
GRAY IS GREY
The Rabbi-Senator Grey is like a dark cloud rolling over America. His doom-saying politics are a drag on the spirits of the American people. What the world needs is a positive brilliance like Letourneau. The New Right is both New and Right. Letourneau has his finger on the pulse of this country. He's incredibly insightful into problems that the average American faces: the downward spiral of "Free Credits" in the World Market, which is vital to American economic survival; the need for faster processors and more frequencies for the continuing health of the entertainment band – still America's number one export industry; and a stronger taxation on outside "hits" so we can get appropriate payment for LINK-users outside of this country.
The Rabbi-Senator's insistence that we put a precedence on real-time problems shows how completely out of touch this candidate is with the needs of the average American. There are only 14 percent of Americans who are without LINK privilege, and most of those are simply too lazy or stubborn to convert to a real religion. Since Taft-Pallis, these degenerates only have to convert to some New Age religion to have full access to the LINK: why don't they just get off their butts and do it? The rest of us, who are productive and spiritual citizens, shouldn't have to shoulder the burden of this "intellectual elite" who already have the support of the ACLU and other fringe organizations.
Letourneau represents a step forward for decent, productive Americans. Bleeding heart liberals like Rabbi-Senator Grey will only bleed America dry. Let Letourneau bring money into American markets!
Chapter 10
"What on Earth?" Dorshak cursed in the darkness. I wiggled experimentally in his iron grip. Despite the distraction, his hold remained firm.
The emergency police frequency erupted with noise. There's been a massive power failure in Traffic Control grid numbers forty-five, sixty-seven...Unconfirmed LINK-hack into police band ... Power outage in holding cell locks ... Get someone on that backup generator, for Chrissake! ... We've got a riot down here, people. I can't stop them ... The dispatcher became overloaded. I switched off.
I flailed the pointed heel of my shoe in the direction of Dorshak's face. I battered at him blindly, until something soft gave way under my constant barrage. Dorshak howled in pain. I pulled my foot away, but the shoe stayed behind. Not sparing the time to imagine what had happened, I switched my concentration to navigating a way out from under the table. I scooted along on my knees, sliding on the linoleum clumsily. The rungs of the plastic chairs hampered my way. I shoved at them, sending toppled chairs skittering about. Their crashes added to the confused shouts of the FBI agent. Finally, my fingers closed around the far end of the table. I pulled myself up from my hands and knees.
The glow of the exit sign drew me like a beacon. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the form of the FBI agent. We each took a step toward the door. I stopped. The agent advanced closer to the door. Behind me I could hear Dorshak moaning, his pain sharpened into anger. His curses became more specific about what he would do to me if he got his hands on me again. I doubted it would take more than a few seconds for Dorshak to translate words to action.
The agent twitched, as though weighing out a course of action. I grabbed ahold of one of the chairs. Before I could bring the chair around, the agent drew his gun. Red glowed in the pupil of his right eye as the targeting computer came on-line. Despite the danger, I had to laugh. Only a Feeb would need a computer's sights at this close a range.