Replicate: Beneath the Steel City: Book 2 Read online

  Replicate

  Beneath the Steel City: Book 2

  Ben Lovejoy

  Airbook Publishing

  Contents

  About this series

  Acknowledgements

  A note on language

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Afterword

  About this series

  ‘Beneath the Steel City’ is a series of science-fiction shorts designed to appeal to a wide age-range, including young adults. The opening book in the series, 2184, is technically a novelette, at 13,500 words, while this one is a novella, at 25,000.

  Each story stands alone, in that the core story told within each has a beginning, middle and end – but there are larger story arcs that continue across two or more books in the series.

  If you haven’t yet read 2184, I strongly recommend starting there there as that introduces the main characters and sets the adventure in motion. Also, this story gives away what happens in 2184. You can download this here:

  USA | UK

  If you’d like to be one of the first to know when new stories are available, as well as given access to special launch pricing, please join my very occasional mailing-list at www.benlovejoyauthor.com.

  Thanks very much for reading – I hope you enjoy!

  Ben Lovejoy

  London, March 2017

  To the perfectly imperfect Stephanie.

  Acknowledgements

  I’d like to thank Michael Anderie and Kathryn Bax for creating supportive communities, and the Wednesday night gang for the vital role they play, both with and without wine.

  Making a move from lengthy technothrillers into SF shorts was greatly assisted by beta-readers who provided early reassurance that it was enjoyable read and some really helpful feedback: Adam Golding, Andrea Drake, Andy Taylor, Dave Langridge, Dean Sherman, Dorene Johnson, Henry Cooke Smith, Henry Dahl Jensen, Joe Smith, Kasper Ambroch, Mike Cater, Thijs Leufkens,

  Finally, special thanks to Moira Harrison for encouragement and assurance that her father would have been amused by a series inspired by Slippery Jim himself – and of course to Harry Harrison for providing the inspiration in the first place.

  A note on language

  I’m a Brit, and the story is written in British English. Americans can expect to see some unfamiliar spellings which may appear to be typos. Examples include:

  - ‘ou’ instead of ‘o’ in words like ‘colour’

  - ‘re’ instead of ‘er’ in words like ‘centre’

  - the ‘ise’ suffix instead of ‘ize’ in words like ‘specialise’

  - similarly, ‘yse’ instead of ‘yze’ in words like ‘analyse’

  - ‘ogue’ instead of ‘og’ in words like ‘analogue’

  English being English, there are also a whole bunch of cases where British English follows or doesn’t follow one inconsistent rule, while American English follows or doesn’t follow a different inconsistent rule (though American English wins the consistency battle overall).

  The story is set in a future London, England.

  Chapter 1

  A man sitting on two hundred and six million credits’ worth of gold may have any number of problems, but paying the bills isn’t one of them. I could afford to take a little time out to address the two pieces of unfinished business on my agenda.

  For interest, and possible profit, I wanted to check out procurement records to find out what ‘special projects’ the two large-scale replication companies had carried out for the government. Both companies had used veiled references to these as assurance of their ability to keep secrets. A deep dive into the government procurement records ought to reveal some clues, if not outright answers.

  But the more pressing item was the mystery of the security breach on the arrangements protecting my previous nest-egg. My questions were many. Who was behind it? How had they learned of the setup? Why had they not moved in on location 1 to get their hands on the platinum stored there? How much else did they know about me? What were their intentions?

  Saira and I had briefly discussed the matter before, but we’d been pressed for time. It was time now to see how much we could figure out.

  “Sofas,” I told the computer. A section of flooring slid open and two sofas rose up. Saira might look faintly ridiculous sitting on one, but I think better when relaxed. I sat back on one and gestured for Saira to take the other.

  “Summarise theories concerning our mystery intruder,” I told her.

  “There are three possibilities,” she said, “the first of which you instructed me to disregard last time. Shall I do so this time also?”

  “Let’s start with all three.”

  “First,” she said, “you intimated that you may have revealed the existence of the platinum to a third-party. Without knowing more, it is impossible to quantify the likelihood that this third-party may be responsible, but the possibility must be considered.”

  “Philippa,” I said, softly. “You can call the third-party Philippa.”

  “Acknowledged. Second, that you were under surveillance at the time the arrangements were put in place, and this surveillance was sufficiently close that–” Saira paused. “Do you wish to assign a label to the person or persons responsible for the surveillance?”

  “Let’s call them Person X,” I said.

  “Sufficiently close that Person X was able to obtain all of the details of the access methods for all three locations.”

  I nodded. Neither possibility seemed remotely plausible, but nothing could be ruled out at this stage.

  “Third, that–” Saira paused, and I answered her question before she could ask it.”

  “Person Y,” I said.

  “That Person Y has compromised one of two systems – either the main computer here, or me.”

  That was one of the things I loved about robots. Their lack of emotion meant that they would calmly suggest themselves as a suspect as readily as they would anyone else.

  The irony of using Saira to help determine whether or not she was compromised was not lost on me, but if that were indeed the case, then there was little to be lost by discussing the matter with her.

  “MMO analysis,” I said. Motive, Means and Opportunity had been the three keys to any investigation into wrong-doing for centuries, and remained as valid today as they had been way back in the mists of time.

  “I will require further information about Philippa,” she said.

  It wasn’t a time I cared to dwell on, but …

  “Ask your questions,” I said.

  “How much did you reveal to her, and how much might she have known?”

  “She knew that I had items of value. She didn’t know what they were, but knew that they were readily convertible to credits, and that their value was considerable. She knew that I had access to them on demand.”

  Back when we’d thought we had a future together, when she’d wanted to live a different life in a different place, and had wanted it to be with me, I had told her that finan
ces would not be a barrier. I hadn’t gone into any more detail than that.

  “Did you give her more than guest access to the main computer here?” Saira asked.

  “She had her own account,” I answered. “She had access to all of the domestic systems, could control the SkyCar, that kind of thing, but no access to my private databanks.”

  “Did she have access to the apartment when you were not here?” Saira asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And she could use the SkyCar on her own?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did she have skills that might have enabled her to break into any of the protected systems?” Saira asked.

  I thought about the question. I had great confidence in the security of my systems. I considered them almost invulnerable. I wasn’t sufficiently foolish or arrogant to consider them completely unbreakable, however. And of the very few people who just might have the necessary abilities … Philippa had been a fellow computer tech, and one of the very best.

  “I can’t entirely rule out the possibility,” I said.

  “Do you know her whereabouts now?” Saira asked.

  I shook my head.

  “I will, if I may, set aside motive for the moment,” said Saira, “as I think we can consider the same motive or motives may apply to any of our three suspects.”

  “Very well,” I said.

  “From the information you have provided to me, it is possible that Philippa would have had the means – the abilities to break through your security arrangements – and the opportunity: unmonitored access to the main computer here. I was not in your possession at the time, so I am not a factor so far as Philippa is concerned.”

  I’d initially ruled out Philippa completely. She knew too little, and I trusted her, even if I knew nothing of her life now. But Saira’s cool analysis of the known facts was a stark reminder that I should not allow my feelings to override a logical analysis.

  “Accepted,” I said.

  “Moving onto Person X,” said Saira, “I also require more information.”

  I nodded again. I’d set up all the arrangements before Saira came into my hands. I’d filled her in on the details so that she could monitor the locations, but she had not been around at the time.

  “The safeguards you have now against surveillance – they were all in place at the time?”

  “Aside from you, obviously,” I said.

  “In which case, scenarios 2 and 3 would seem to be equivalent ,” said Saira. “The closeness of surveillance required to have obtained the details necessary to gain access to the locations would be impossible without compromising either the main computer system, or myself. So I suggest we amend the labelling to: scenario 2, the main computer system here has been compromised, and scenario 3, I have been compromised.”

  “That makes sense,” I said.

  “Scenario 2 could have taken place at any time,” she said. “Either before the arrangements were put in place, monitoring them as you made them, or afterwards.”

  “Agreed.”

  “In which case, scenario 2 can be broken down into 2a and 2b,” said Saira.

  I smiled. Saira could be pedantic, but that was a virtue at such times. All possibilities needed to be considered, and the more detailed the analysis, the greater the confidence that nothing had been overlooked.

  “Go on.”

  “2a, that the computer was compromised before it came into your possession, and that all the safeguards you have added since are worthless.”

  That was theoretically possible, I acknowledged. For centuries now, governments had intercepted shipments of computer equipment to persons of interest and installed their own firmware, providing a backdoor into the systems. Examples dated back to the late 20th Century, when the American government was shown to have installed its own firmware on phones, computers and even hard drives – early predecessors of nanodrives.

  I again had to be slightly careful about my phrasing here.

  “A possibility, agreed, but I think in this case an unlikely one. I purchased the computer system from a former owner.” Admittedly, ‘purchased’ wasn’t an entirely accurate term, but the principle was the same. “So unless someone wanted to spy on the previous owner and happened to end up spying on me – something which stretches credibility beyond breaking-point, I think – we can discount that theory.”

  “2b, then,” said Saira, is that the compromise occurred after the computer system came into your possession.”

  That was another thing I liked about robots. They didn’t get attached to their ideas. A human might have protested that it was still possible, and refused to let it go, but Saira accepted the logic of the argument and moved immediately on.

  “Did you apply the safeguards now in place immediately you purchased the computer?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I said. “Literally on day one.”

  That was true. I’d had to break into the previous system to do it, and it had been simple common sense to configure it for my own use immediately afterwards – including all the necessary safeguards against unwanted intrusion.

  “Then the possibility of compromise in circumstances other than by Philippa would seem remote,” she observed.

  “Agreed,” I said.

  “In which case we can – as a working hypothesis – dismiss scenario 2 in its entirety.”

  “Please don’t now suggest relabelling scenario 3 as scenario 2,” I pleaded. “My brain can only cope with so much.”

  “Very well. Scenario 3, is that I have been compromised, and we can again apply the same breakdown into versions a and b, that I was compromised before or after I came into your employ. Given that we ruled out out scenario 2a on the grounds that it relies too much on coincidence, then we must logically do the same for 3a and conclude that I was not compromised at the time you came to own me.”

  I thought about that one. The first thing I’d done when I got hold of Saira had been to perform a full factory reset, so she knew nothing about her previous life. She was entirely unaware that she once worked for the government.

  But the idea that the government would install compromised firmware on one of its own robots made no sense. There were intra-agency rivals, I supposed. You couldn’t entirely rule out the possibility of one government security agency spying on another one. Perhaps that level of paranoia existed.

  That was, however, too far down the rabbit hole for me. If I were to start considering that kind of possibility, I might as well don a tinfoil hat.

  “That seems reasonable,” I said.

  “Then 3a is that I have been compromised since you have owned me. The safeguards you have programmed into me seem extremely robust,” she said, “but there is one key difference between the computer system here and me.”

  “Which is?”

  “You frequently send me out to carry out all manner of tasks for you, so there have been numerous occasions on which someone could have had physical access to me. Someone could have broken through my security systems and then wiped my short-term memory such that I had no record of the event.”

  It was true. If someone had taken an interest in me, and if they had identified Saira as belonging to me, then it was possible.

  “Ok,” I said.

  “If you will permit one further piece of relabelling, only in the interests of simplification … ?”

  I sighed, then nodded.

  “We can simply use scenario 3 to describe the latter possibility: that I have been compromised whilst in your ownership. Given that Person Y could be anyone, that includes those with the necessary skills, so we must take it as read that they possess the means. And given that I have operated on my own on numerous occasions, we must also conclude that opportunity exists.”

  “True.”

  “We are then left with only two plausible possibilities …” Saira paused.

  I knew exactly what she was thinking.

  “Ok, ok,” I said. “You can relabel them scenarios 1 and 2.”
/>   “Thank you. Scenario 1, Philippa broke into your home computer while she was alone here. Scenario 2, Person Y compromised me at a some point when I was on my own.”

  “I need coffee,” I said.

  Saira stood up and walked over to the dispenser, returning with a mug of strong black filter coffee made from Jamaica Blue Mountain beans. I was fussy about my coffee beans, but otherwise liked my coffee simple.

  “You said that you could have been reprogrammed and then your short-term memory wiped. Would you have any other way of knowing whether or not you’ve been compromised? Would a self-diagnostic tell you? Or are there tests I could carry out that would tell me?”

  “I carry out regular self-diagnosis tests,” said Saira, “which have revealed nothing anomalous. That being the case, I suggest that any tests you performed would have the same result, regardless of whether or not I have been compromised.”

  “However–” I began.

  Saira nodded, and continued for me.

  “However, it is possible that your tests would reveal something, and that I have been instructed to inform you that they would not.”

  “I’d better get to work,” I said.

  I connected her to my diagnostics kit and instructed it to run a full system-level analysis. This would compare the code she was running with the stored code image, and flag up any differences found; there were none.

  Next, I checked her connections logs, scanning for any occasion on which she had interfaced to any other equipment. There were a lot of these, and no alternative to checking each one manually, to see whether it was something I had instructed or approved. It took time, but eventually I was satisfied that the logs showed nothing untoward.

  Saira was clean, I concluded: she was not compromised, and what she had reported to me was therefore entirely accurate. It was some time later before I would learn that only one of these statements was correct.