Gareth receives a message from Manos. “China is about get smashed.”
“Today I am announcing a new offensive for the conflict with China—The Information Tariffs. Starting today, our enemies will lose access to American technology that help them wage war. We will institute protections on Internet search, computer software and mobile operating systems. Our enemies will pay a very high price to access the knowledge that has made America great. They will think twice about assaulting our beloved country.”
Gareth replies to Manos. “Go live with the tariffs now!”
“The American people prosper with free information, but when our enemies use our data as weapons against us, we have no choice but to make defensive reforms to our systems. Beginning today, you will notice changes to the tools you use to access and share information. These are small sacrifices we Americans will make for the War. One day we will defeat our enemies and reclaim our way of life. Until that day, we must fight onward and defend our freedoms. God Bless you, and God Bless the United States of America.”
Camera flashes flicker as the President stands and heads for the exit.
“When will the War end?” a reporter shouts.
The door closes and the room erupts in chatter. The floodlights shut off, and the tension dissipates.
A message appears in Gareth’s field of view. “Incredible speech. Honored to be a part of this.”
Gareth writes back. “Thank you, Manos. Have you gone live?”
“The new Google platform is up and running.”
“Excellent. I’ll have another project for you soon.”
“About what?”
“Energy.”
“Looking forward to it.”
Gareth puts his glasses away. As he walks from the Oval Office, someone taps his shoulder and pulls him to the side, where Stan waits for him.
“What a speech that was,” Gareth says to his boss.
Stan makes a fist. “That’s what I call fire in the belly. We need more of that around here.”
“We do.”
“Have you implemented the President’s measures?”
“Yes, Google’s new operating system was rolled out minutes ago.”
“Perfect. I hope it cripples China.”
“Yes, sir. In one instant, they will lose access to the Internet. The changes for our citizens will be minimal.”
Stan leans closer. “Listen, if I hear that another CEO opposed our war measures, there will be consequences, do you understand? It sickens me that a female executive thinks she can stand up to the CIA. What was her name?”
“Bethany Andrews.”
Stan’s face reddens. “We need to teach her a lesson.”
“She has been a thorn in our side, but we’ve implemented the tariffs despite her opposition.”
“I want her in jail, do you understand? She’s a liberal CEO who opposes the War. If she’s willing to sell out her country, she can’t be allowed to run an American firm. For all we know, she’s in bed with the Chinese.”
“Yes, sir, that’s possible.”
Stan shakes his head. “An enemy combatant at the helm of a mega corporation? It makes me sick to my stomach. We need to get rid of her immediately.”
Gareth stands erect. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Do everything in your power to weaken her.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You heard the President—Information is the new front in the War. If she’s not on our side, she can’t be in charge of the world’s largest technology company.”
10.
“YOUR WIFE is in the hospital.”
Anil presses the smartphone to his right ear and covers his left as a train runs past him in the Milpitas station. “Can I speak with her?”
He struggles to hear the nurse on the other end. “…her condition…”
“Hello?” Anil shouts.
“…unconscious…”
The call disconnects as the shoddy satellite signal disappears. Once a popular device, the twenty-year-old smartphone barely functions. He tries to open the Route app but the phone crashes and switches off.
I hate this old junk.
The subway terminal is dark. Foul-smelling steam rises from a vent as rats run across the tracks. A dim fluorescent lamp illuminates a vandalized map on a wall. Anil hears an incoming metro.
“Red line to Mountain View now approaching.”
He races to the map and scans it looking for San Jose Hospital, but the words are hidden under black graffiti. The train arrives and slows to a stop.
“All aboard. Doors closing.”
Panicked, Anil runs for the platform and reaches his arm out. The hatch slams on his body. “Please stand clear of the doors.” He wrestles with all his strength to get free and forces his way into the car, falling onto the floor.
Inside, a stench of urine overwhelms him. He looks up and makes eye contact with a haggard old man. “I know who you are!” the elder screams.
Anil stands to face the homeless guy. “You’re mistaking me for someone else.”
The bum points his finger. “You’re the devil!”
Flustered, Anil ducks and runs to the next train car. He steps over empty cans and plastic trash, dodging past a couple screaming at each other. He walks through several more cars and looks back through the window until he no longer sees the man.
Breathing relief, he notices a subway map and scans it in search of San Jose Hospital, spotting it southwest of the metro stop. He tries to power on his smartphone but it does not respond.
How will I find Prisha?
The train stops in Santa Clara and Anil transfers to the green line. Ten minutes later, he arrives at the San Jose stop and finds an encampment occupying the platform. He exits and runs outside, heading southwest along a crumbling road. He cuts through an abandoned factory and crosses a rusty metal bridge over the Coyote River.
A hospital comes into view. Anil stops in the middle of an empty highway to catch his breath, slumping with his hands on his knees in the blistering heat.
Prisha, please be okay.
He stares down at the weeds growing from the cracked concrete, spotting faded white lines that once divided the automobile lanes. He pants as he tries to gather himself. Seconds later, he runs towards the emergency room.
Inside the cramped lobby, dozens of patients anxiously wait for a doctor. Short of breath, Anil approaches a reception area and talks to a speaker in the wall. “I’m here… for… Prisha Anaya.”
A slip of paper emerges from a slot. “Complete this form,” an A.I. voice says.
He scribbles on the document and holds in front of a camera. A visitor pass drops to the floor.
“Proceed to Unit 403.”
Anil places the sticker on his shirt and darts to the fourth floor. His heart beats madly as he approaches his wife’s room. He peers inside and sees her lying on a gurney. “Prisha!”
Her face is swollen and her eyes are closed. An IV line runs from her wrist to a bag of fluid hanging from a pole. A monitor tracks two pulses, one from Prisha and another from her baby.
Anil kisses his wife and presses his face against her hand. “Prisha, don’t leave me.”
Her eyes slowly open. “I won’t…” She grabs his hand and smiles.
He starts to cry. “I was so terrified! I thought the worst happened.”
“I’m sorry, this is my fault.”
“It’s fine, babe,” he says as he kisses her cheeks, “you don’t have to apologize.”
She whispers softly. “I went for a walk and I just… collapsed. Next thing I know I’m here at the hospital. They say I was out for an hour.”
“Is the baby okay?”
She stays quiet.