Finally they were back in the study, and he put the last device away. “I don’t suppose you have a console I could use? Something connected to your AI?”
“Of course he has,” Fae’s voice answered. “And the name is ‘Fae.’”
Andrew grinned. “Fae it is, then,” he said. “A pleasure to meet you. Now that console…?”
Simon showed him to his desk and got out of the way as the young man plopped himself into the chair and let his fingers fly across the virtual keyboard.
After a few keystrokes and a muttered word, the bubbling darkness in the holo-display congealed into a churning black-and-white cloud of static-monochromatic digital bees in a hive.
“That little app your AI built was lovely,” Andrew said. “Very clever.”
“Why thank you,” Fae said. She sounded thoroughly charmed.
“But unfortunately, it just makes a ‘hole’ in the sound-map. A few too many of those, and the uberprograms will notice, wonder what you’re hiding.” He continued to type madly as he spoke, as if his fingers were completely connected to his brain. “Let’s try this instead-my own little recipe. Not just a security shield; this actually samples the voices in the room and reconstructs a non-volatile conversation to replace the real audio for any listening device, local or remote. Algorithm-proof. You’d have to be a real, live person, and a truly suspicious one, to know we aren’t just having a pint and shooting the shit.”
Simon nodded, very satisfied. “Good,” he said. “That was the kind of thing that I was hoping to get from Hayden, but-”
Andrew stopped typing and looked up for the first time. “Hayden’s scared,” he said. “There’s something going on at the college-someone’s stealing data, leaking conversations, even sabotaging research experiments. It’s driving him crazy, and he doesn’t dare let something like…this, like what you showed us, into the place until he figures out what’s going on.”
It took a moment for Simon to process all that…but it made sense. Perfect sense.
“All right, then,” he said. “Good to know.”
Andrew’s grin grew wider. “It’s true!” he said. “That’s why I popped ‘round!”
I need this man, Simon realized. Rather badly. “Look,” he said aloud, “I’m thinking of taking a trip-quite a long trip, actually. But it’s one I will want to take in complete privacy-complete, Andrew. No one can know where I am, how I’m getting there, or what my destination is-not anywhere along the way.”
The young scientist nodded; he didn’t even seem surprised. “Air travel?”
Simon shrugged “By air, by rail, by sea, by private vehicle and public trans, whatever…it could be anything. Everything.”
Andrew made a thinking-face. “Okay…” he said. “You know how hard that is, right? You’re talking about hiding from or faking out analog snoops like the eyes-down satellites, and dumb digitals like the metro CCTV systems, not to mention much smarter private security cams, and the entire Google-sphere, and AI/GPS, and-”
Simon put up a hand. “I get it. It’s hard. The questions to you are: can it be done, and can you do it?”
Andrew gave that crooked smile again. “One question in two parts with only one answer: if it can be done, I can do it. In fact, I’m one of the very few who can.”
?Simon actually believed that. “They don’t call you ‘The Invisible Man’ for nothing, Andrew.”
“I really rather hate that nickname,” he said…then grinned. “But I rather love it, too. Still-let me show you what you’re asking for.”
He dug into his coat pocket and came up with a flat translucent box. Half a dozen glowing panels decorated the sides; one edge was trimmed in shining metal. “Stand up,” he said, squinting at the device.
“What?”
“On your feet.”
Simon stood up slowly and faced the student. Andrew pointed the device at him, metal edge first and swept it up and down from toe to head and back again. The device said, “Thank you,” in a polite AI voice.
“You know what thread recorders are, I assume.”
Simon sighed. “Yes.” Of course he did. They were one of the first real breakthroughs of nanotechnology: strings of protein-machines, thin as sewing thread that could digitally record bits of sound-from a few seconds to hours, depending on the length and complexity of the construct. They could be woven into clothing or jewelry, even into hair extensions, and then accessed by AIs and the cell network. It ended the need for microphones and ear buds and changed communications technology forever. “What about-”
“They can be a lot thinner than you think,” Andrew said. “Too thin to be seen by the human eye, actually. And they can be blown about by the breeze, cling to your clothes or hair or even skin, and then be queried by wireless interrogators that you’ll find…well, pretty much everywhere. Every time you pass a microwave transponder, or an ell link, or even a wireless cam, a third party can read what’s on any given thread. Then another AI can fit all the little pieces together in no time at all. So anybody who really wants to can hear any conversation you’ve had-indoors or out, in private or public, pretty much all the time.”
Simon was appalled. “That’s insane.”
Andrew held up the glowing device. It said, “Professor Fitzpatrick has nine unauthorized threads on his person.”
“What?”
“Playback?” the AI asked politely.
“Please,” Andrew said, not taking his eyes from Simon.
Rough-edged but perfectly understandable versions of his own voice and Max’s sarcastic tones filled the room:
“Are you actually suggesting I drop everything I’m doing and fly halfway around the world because you want to have a chat?”
“Yeah, Max, that’s exactly what I want you to do: come skipping on home for a fucking chat.” There was a brief pause, and then he heard himself say, “Okay, I get it. Forget we even discussed this.”
“All right,” Simon said harshly. “You’ve made your point.”
Andrew dropped his hand and thumbed a panel on the device. “Permanent erase, please,” he said.
“Erasure complete,” the device responded.
He dropped it casually on the couch. Simon shook his head, thoroughly chilled. “I had no idea it was that…extensive. That intrusive.”
Andrew shrugged. “Only a matter of time, really. It started almost fifty years ago with CCTV and Google Earth. I’m sure the government types would have liked to keep it to themselves, but that’s simply not possible. The tech is too common, too cheap, too easy to decrypt.”
Simon found himself a bit weak in the knees, despite all his training and discipline.
He felt like he had to sit down. “Good god,” he said.
“It’s not so much that someone is listening to every word you say,” Andrew told him, trying to be comforting in his own awkward way. “It’s that they can, if they have a reason to.”
“And you can stop that?”
Andrew nodded, and for the first time Simon saw the serious, even haunted man underneath the easygoing grad-student exterior. This man was a genius who had taken on a huge burden, who knew a secret that few others knew, and he took it very seriously. “Yes. I can keep the surveillance systems-all of them-distracted,” he said. “I fool some of them, I shield others. I basically make them not notice you, whether you’re moving or not, talking or not, broadcasting or not. What really protects you is the sheer size of the planet: seven billion people, every one of them with a digital signature. It’s just too much data to shift, even for the smartest AI ever grown. It’s too chaotic. And of course, my amazing brain is a big help, too.”
He grinned again, and the shadow disappeared from his eyes. Simon knew immediately he’d made the right choice. This young man, impulsive as he was, was clearly essential to his plan.
“How much would it cost me for the full treatment?” he said. “Actually, for me and a few others, traveling with me?”
Andrew did his best to look shrewd. He picked up the pad of paper and the pen, handling it as if it was an alien device. “I’m going to write down a figure,” he said playfully.