by G.C. Dillon
** Based upon an idea by James "The T is not for
Tiberius" Gregory **
scene one.
Josie Kelley entered the employee underground parking lot.
Security cameras followed the twenty-year-old woman. Facial
profiling software scanned her features, not to appreciate
her comely image in any way, but to compare her with its
terabyte database of offenders. She reached her car without
an alert being broadcast to the Municipal Constabulary.
No COP, computer operated patrol-unit, would show up. She
swiped her index finger along her car's key strip. It unlocked
and she got into the driver's seat. She placed her Miyoshi-Alvarez
wireless I/O pad on the seat next to her. A small green
light lit as the device networked with the vehicle's computer.
The voice recognition system started the engine when she
spoke her password; the seat adjusted itself to her height
and reach, as did the rear-view mirror and the dashboard
controls. Her car was a gasoline-ethanol duel fuel/ electric
hybrid. The display on its Auto On-Line showed the date:
Tuesday, 30 June 2020. She activated the service's Eyewitness
newsgroup. There was a story she needed to access before
even driving home. She had gotten a short e-mail broadcast
at work informing the company's associates that their CFO
Cameron had been arrested for violations of the Sarbanes-Oxley
regulations and they should direct any questions solely
to the legal department. Solely! A softly spoken warning
to all.
Josie stared a moment at the flex-screen. She had missed
the hourly blip. She would have to wait for the news cycle
to loop back. Upcoming stories were previewed before the
commercials started. There was a headshot of Senator Jenna
Bush's blonde image with a text marquee about the forthcoming
debate on the extension of the Patriot Acts. There was also
a flash of her boss's penguin walk in leg chains and manacles.
There was a follow-up story coming. Finally the ads shrunk
to the screen within screen. Josie's eyes widened as the
story commenced.
There was a security camera shot of her and Cameron. They
had suitcases and I/O pad cases. The location was clearly
an airport. It looked like they were going away together.
That was the business trip to Bangalore last year, Josie
thought. She didn't like the way her hair looked a darker
brunette on the black-and-white photographs. Oh - and worse
she was wearing her turtle suit, a business appropriate
green jacket and skirt.
There was an old nannycam picture of her at sixteen looking
through, but not sampling, the family liquor cabinet. That's
why she never babysat for the Margolises' again. Her recent
Internet history was on the crawl at the bottom of the screen.
It was brought to you by Ultimate Shopper ® spyware.
The main display changed to a picture of the parking lot
she was in. She glanced around the subterranean building,
peering in the stygian darkness for troglodyte reporters,
but she was thankfully alone. The date-stamp showed that
it was months ago, middle of winter. She was catching a
smoke - a still legal smoke, though not a legal location.
She remembered now. It was snowing that day, and she couldn't
tolerate the freezing wind so she'd stepped inside; just
then she wished she'd quit a week earlier. She appeared
a fool, seemingly jumping on her tiptoes to warm up. The
story concluded with her company ID photo and her name -
her name. At least, she thought, they didn't give out my
GSM satellite-phone number!
Josie put her car into drive, cutting off the video stream
automatically, and began the trek home. It seemed so much
longer than the trip in.
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