Net Alignment: SegmentNet

[This is a short story because of the recent Net Neutrality vote by the FCC, and discussing government if it switched to Agile. It is not part of the other ongoing stories, nor in the same timeline.]

I waited until the surveillance drone passed before I pulled the Faraday blanket off my computer again. Thick clients were heavily audited in this current economic climate. Depending on how this sprint's elections went, there may be relaxed costs next cycle, but since each week the power could shift, I stayed in the habit of hiding my computing node.

I had a good 3 hours before the next audit sweep would occur, and I planned to get some more programming done during the window. I hooked up a power converter to my machine. It's voltage signature masked the computer, so my power company wouldn't charge me more. For the three hours, it would appear like a crock pot instead.

The compute node was black market, now. Decades ago you could have bought one in thousands of stores, but now these machines were hard to come by. They didn't have TMs, or Trust Modules, like they do now. My communicator had one. If there was any tampering, it would sever the connection and brick itself, and snitch on you. Jailbreaking was a criminal offense now, especially if the communicator were tampered with enough to bypass paywalls.

The paywalls kept the SegmentNet auditable. Each week they'd tally and bill you for the segments accessed, and the volume. Calculated bundles would be applied to the account, rollover credits, various buzzwords designed to make it sound like features were applied to the bill. Usually they'd coincide with the latest election sprint, to help favor particular policies and votes. Or when a topic was detrimental, they'd cut all access and you'd have to hear about it word-of-mouth from others.

I smirked. 'They.' it was a term I'd come to use more lately. Like a shadowy syndicate, they were the SegmentNet Providers. SNPs we're the unofficial monopolies. There were four of them now, dividing the country up into regions. Antitrust when the SegmentNet was first passed kept them from unifying, so they made an agreement. They withdrew from competing markets to minimize conflict. The arrangement worked well for them because with the sprint governance, no formalized suit could cover collusion on price setting, and by mapping their variations to the cycles, they kept the populace at rest. So yes, when I say "they," I really picture a dark smoke filled room of shadowy figures conspiring.

But this compute node, it was my escape plan. Most of the tech giants moved offshore when SegmentNet went live. They became their own independent non-nation organizations, with representation at the United Organizations, which rebranded when it was no longer just nations. And when those tech companies moved, they built their ocean data centers with massive uplinks, broadcasting to peering points. I lived too far inland for direct access, but The Mesh is what I've built this to access. NeoARPANet, more often just called The Mesh, is the new interconnected network. It's peer to peer, anonymous, and antiTrust Moduled. Part of the connection assertions look for TM signatures and avoid it if present. Much like how SegmentNet only replies if the handshake is proper, The Mesh won't respond to a TM handshake.

Getting online was difficult. With audit machines scanning for rogue access, I had to study the routes and connect only when it was safe. But with the last update I got from The Mesh, there is a new program that let's you monitor the patrols and go silent when a scan comes. Tracking the trackers is trivial, it turns out, especially for some of the other data giants. At one point leaflets were smuggled into our city, sponsored by one on them, to inform us of how to connect to The Mesh. The leaflets were made with a special ink that was uninterpretable by cameras and scans, due to printing a veneer of metallic ink across the whole sheet. Human eyes could decipher it, though, and that's how I got my first connection to the outside.

After lots of covert communications, I was able to buy a 1NPH, "one node per human," and get connected. Since then, I'd learned programming and how to integrate and improve my systems. My node was a heavily augmented one, using the original model as a foundation for expansion. I got interfacer goggles and gloves, and the power modulator to accommodate it.

The programming tonight was to get my node synced up with the drone sweeps. I couldn't be a full mesh relay until that was resolved. Throwing a Faraday cloth over it every 3 hours worked when I was just a consumer, but now I was a distributor. An enemy of the hegemony, and a symbol to the oppressed people.

From the Mesh, I learned about the Segment vote, the alignment of the peering points, the death of IP, and the birth of SNP. It was sad to read this and learn everything I was taught was the false story made up by the Victor. Accessing cryptohistory was incredible, seeing authoritative bodies outside our oligarchy attest and sign for these events was like having the veil torn from my eyes. And I saw the real world.

So now I distribute the leaflets after a government SCRUM, I attest to new nodes, and I subvert the monitors to bring information to my peers. Because we are not human resources to a machine, but individuals that use machines. We just have to squeeze out from beneath the current power to get ours back.

Knight To A5

[Previous: http://www.apocalemniscate.com/2016/05/knight-to-c6.html ]

He walked the dusty path west, AugR navigation giving a readout of the distance to Dennen. The AugR provided other useful data, like optimal walking paths, recent telemetry data, environmental factors, and biometrics. It was a frag town, not allocated to one of the federations, so regardless of it’s attempt at being Fed-linked, it wasn’t. And that’s why he liked it.

[Felix - 7] The Resistance of Memory

The night after a stimshow, especially a synesthesia one, is hard to recover from. Limbs don't move right, neurons firing randomly, and time doesn't feel like it flows in one direction, or at a consistent speed. By time I mastered enough limb coordination to get out of bed, Vanessa was gone. She might have been called for all I knew. Nothing paged for me though.

I had some impressive chemical compensators inside me, but the stims used in those shows circumvented a lot of them. Guess he wasn't worried about being poisoned. Or hells, maybe he was a stimshow addict, and made sure it would not be affected. Or maybe he'd never even been to a stimshow. If he– If I came from the wastes, maybe I'd never experienced one.

Though I still didn't think I was a wastewalker. I didn't have the tanned skin that was common. Unless that's just the stereotype, or something removed during my rebuild. Maybe more people have normal skin, they probably have some contained cities. I ought to look that up. Or maybe I had and the stims were just affecting me that much right now. It was hard to remember what happened before. I sighed, and started at the blank ceiling. No visual augments were on, so instead of a false sky or unnatural ceiling, I had a drab plastic expanse over my head.

The boring ceiling wasn't the cause of the sigh though. Waking up with slight amnesia after a stimshow was unnerving to me some days. It was like that first time waking up after being reconstructed. Waking up as Felix. And every time I did I wondered if when the memories came back, would even more return? It was an unanswered wish so far. I've walked this mental street before. It hasn't changed, and it's not helping. I needed to snap out of it.

With the PATs stepping in, I was back on routine investigations. Which meant I was also going back the office. I did my normal morning routine, shrugged off the lethargy and cleaned up, then summoned an autocab to take me to work. From my housing unit, it was a 45 minute cab to the Novost Insurance wing. It was just west of the central transit tower. The autocab sped easily through the city. Even in heavy commuter congestion the streamlined transit network optimized routes to ensure nearly perfect transport times. I think the longest commute I'd ever had sent me though the north outer wall line, and only added maybe 7 minutes to my commute time. The traveling salesman would have been pleased, if he still existed.

It was peak times, and I was on a popular line. Instead of a two-seater efficiency cab, I met a multidecker at the stop, with 5 other people there as well. I never looked up their names, but I'd seen them all before. Some had been here since I arrived, and had fairly predictable transit schedules. They were also Novost workers but no one in my department. Occasionally I'd see tall blonde talk with stout grey, and they were cordial, so I assumed they were peers. Close enough to acknowledge but not close enough to befriend. We embarked quickly, guided to designated seats for optimal positioning. Transit was the most efficient tech in the sprawls. It's part of why the federacies functioned. If they hadn't provided infrastructure, we'd probably all be out in the wastes still. 

My normal routine getting to the office was fine, until I approached my workstation. There was an unfamiliar person sitting there. Sometimes they shared out our workspace but this woman was dressed differently. In fact, she didn't even have Novost attire on. And the few others around the cubes were on edge. I guessed she was a PAT.

"Hello Felix" she said, not taking her eyes away from the screen. Now that I was closer, I could see she was wearing overlay contacts too. I had no idea what could be projected on her retinas, so maybe she had camera feeds, or maybe just great senses.

"Hello.. uh.. PAT?" I inquired, unsure how else to reply. She gave me a dry, mirthful smile. She was older than me, maybe late fifties if I had to guess based on normal aging. A little out of shape, based on her sitting posture, but still looked capable of a sprint in a pinch. Her hair was dyed a metallic white, either to hide age or provide false age. Her clothing looked like an older version of the Novost field suit, but with a long skirt and matching leggings, with a fitted top and jacket. The collar of the jacket was thicker than normal, laden with some perception tech was my guess. Maybe that's where the camera feeds came from. 

"Yes, though Daphne is my name. But if you prefer the term, you can just stick with PAT. I'm here regarding your investigation. We have most of the information we need already, but I want to ask you about some of these assessments, and to get your perspective on it." She stood up, with an air of authority, and turned to leave the room. There was some strange note in her voice with the word "perspective," but I couldn't quite sense what. "Follow me, please, so we can have privacy for this debrief."

The back of her coat was the insignia I expected to see at some point, but as a small lapel. Instead, it was the majority of the jacket back, a set of six interlocked hands with ribbon around them, stylized with equations and an outline of the planet. Across the top read "Propagation Adherence Team" with the initial capitals strangely prominent. All the eyes in the room followed her out, including me, trailing like a chastised pet.

Novost had an impressive investigation wing, with some modular rooms that would adapt to however many occupants you needed, within reason. But we passed all those. I had always used those rooms. Even if they were rarely the same shape, they were familiar. Instead we went to the lift, rode up three stories to a floor of never been on before, and I was greeted by a field research wing. Vanessa had never mentioned this, so I'm guessing it didn't get used as much. We would through some hallways, Daphne being tagged for access and approving a visitor. I heard her speak a few times to that end, but I never saw what prompted it.

Finally, we came to a conference room. It was one in a line of four or five, I thought. With a clear glass pane on the door revealing a cozy room inside. Daphne gestured me in, and when she shut the door behind her, the glass frosted over and became opaque. That was the first sign. My data feeds cut off afterwards, a slow whine of white noise spun up until nothing outside the room was perceptible. A tingling feeling swept my skin as a mild electric current was run through the air. If there were any listening devices on me, they were useless now. This was a lot more precaution than I expected.

"Alright Felix, now that it's clean, what do you know of the deceased in this case?" She was more animated in asking than I had seen her so far. The change in demeanor was unexpected, and this isolation room made me suddenly aware of how different this was. What I was afraid would be an interrogation was a discussion, and I didn't know how to react.

"Uh, sorry. What do you mean? You want me to replay my case notes?"

"No, I want your insights into these notes. There were three bodies in an unknown room. This is a fascinating case, and I'm sure you've collected some observations that go beyond the case work. I want to hear your thoughts. I want to see what small details you've thought of. Those are the things that make investigations."

This was not at all what I expected this to go like. The descriptions of PATs I had gotten made me think it was a black bag job. They'd step in an the problem would disappear. But they wanted my feelings? Was this some psychological warfare to see if I was in league with the dead people? That's possible, there were strange connections here with me. Certainly PAT wouldn't pass those up.

"I think they may have been brokering a trade. Meeting in an undocumented room, with what we assume is non-sprawl humans, means it was an unsanctioned trade. But I also think there's something specific to the area, like Travis favored this place or something. If they're non-sprawl, it would be much easier to meet off-sprawl. From the profile of Travis, it seems odd that he would put himself into a dangerous place like this, especially for an illicit trade.

"To what I know if them, this goes for the unions as well, I think they found a way around the DNA markers. Marker tracking was the only thing nearby here, and those two didn't show up. Maybe that's what Travis was selling, and it was a functional display?"

Daphne interjected at that. "Interesting. You mentioned the tracking, but not that it would be a sales tactic. I also saw your request for marker tech. That's classified data, but what were you looking to know?"

That tingling feeling returned. Was this an interrogation now? Daphne sensed my hesitation. She sighed, and adjusted her posture to a more relaxed form, before continuing softly.

"Agent Felix, this is not a meeting for self-incrimination. It is not illegal to query. I am offering that I can approve requests if I deem them relevant to this investigation. We need to know how a kinetically active person was able to get inside of the sprawl. I'm sure you've heard a great deal of whispers about the PATs and what villains we are, but I am just here for the same thing you want: answers. The difference is that my position allows me to open doors yours can't. So work with me here, help me find answers." She looked at me, imploring visually now too.

"Alright. My theory is that Travis had some extensive biotherapy, and was no longer showing up to DNA markers like he used to. I know, I know, I've been told that it's impossible to fake the markers, but I'm thinking there's some other possibility, like providing an alternate set of markers, or notifying the system to ignore certain patterns. We didn't recover any functional marker equipment from the splatters, but if they lacked sequencers, how would they have gotten through the building gates? I think there's something that lets them drop off the grid when desired, which is why I queried."

Daphne leaned back, steepling her fingers, which were well worn by time, bony and wrinkled, looking much older than she did. "Ah. Yes. That is a difficult question. As a primary identity system, asking how to bypass it raises some red flags. This line of inquiry has some strong merit. I also see why you left it out of your report. What else?"

I blinked. 'What else'? I was already surprised she even cared about this much, let alone my other musings. "At this point... well, at this point that was my next step. Without knowing more of the building, the residents, any of that, it's hard to posit much else."

She motioned to me to stand up as she also leaned forward to get up. "Unless you have other thoughts, I want to address this concern about the markers with my team. You should find out whatever else you can about the building and residents, if you think that path will yield anything fruitful. I am not your Lead, so need to work out with Phirenaius what your prioritization is. I will follow up with you in two days to see if you have more for me."

I stood up, trying not to rush, but ready to be out of the room. "I will review my notes and get back to you. And..." I hesitated for a moment,  "maybe this is overstepping, but will you let me know what you find?"

She smiled ruefully, and gave a mirthful snort. "I think you know enough about the PAT reputation to answer that question yourself, agent."