Safety In Numbers

ERROR: Part 1

"Your connection has been re-routed due to an unknown error. Diagnosing..."

I peered out of the curtains, a palpable sense of dread overcoming me as the console spoke once more in it's electronic tongue.

"Hashing network protocols..."

There's no point. I thought I was safe behind anonymity. I prayed that the wall of digits would throw off the electronic beasts, the heralds of a far worse fate. The computer desperately tried to mask itself, but the tracer was too good. Far too good for what I've dealt with before.

"WARNING: Unexpected device has connected to network. Treat as penetration? Y/N?"

A swift stab of the key sent both it and me into panic mode. As pixels danced on the screen, as bars filled out and device tracking told me it was a computer, two miles away, I was already ready. All-black overalls, rucksack with the essential reboot software, and a little something in case they come after me. They shouldn't, but I had to pick a large target.

"Memory wipe completed."

There were eyes outside. On every street, a surveillance camera watched dutifully over every single home, keeping a track of who lived where, who did what, why they were there...I picked a small place at the end of one of the longer streets, which gave me the advantage of a blind-spot. But that won't stop the curfew patrols, which they'll have most likely sent down...Armed trucks, numbers branded into the side, faceless shades, wielding tools to silence dissent...

I pulled out a gutted Nokia, and began prodding at the screen. Soon, I tapped into the surveillance network using a back-entrance a friend had sold me in exchange for a contract. I mapped the camera's manually using a cheap map program, which meant I could see what was going on, and where. Invenomating the snake, so to speak.

My heart leapt into my throat. Three armoured trucks. What the hell is this? I pissed someone off, and it wasn't just the police; this was a security contractor. Huge treaded tyres sped past the streetlights, the response to trying to find the truth, hell, curiosity even. They were about ten minutes away.

"Device has been armed! Activate motion detector? Y/N?"

This was it, no turning back, another number to be wiped from the street, more numbers on ID cards to be changed, numbers to be swapped from bank accounts, the number of my age to be refabricated, my whole life, a long stream of bits and bytes floating in the ether, meticulously guarded by an unknown entity, malevolently influencing people. All over the world...

I braced myself, adrenaline surging through my veins, fear, had to use the fear. A silenced pistol, I don't know what type, a knife, and a few 'surprises' on my part were all that stood between me and being deleted from the system, and dragged into some labyrinthe to rot for the pleasure of some greater entity. I wonder what death they'd manufacture for me? Road accident? They could crush my corpse and turn it over, or maybe they'll riddle me with bullets and say I was the victim of a gang-crime...

Pistol cocked, phone in the other hand, my body intertwined with the electronics, I hit the keyboard, opened the window, dived out, and began creeping along the lonely streets, puddles of blue light racing from orbs set upon spiked metal posts. Apartments rose either side of me like an urban jungle, the capital eerily quiet in the dead of night.

Oh god, bullets. Not for me, but reverberating along the concrete. Were they really gangs? Who could ignore that fact? There's no point thinking; keep walking, keep climbing, jumping, save running for when it's needed.

I had a friend in the subway network who said she'd help me. I counted the bullets, nine, ten, twelve...no sirens raced to catch the criminals, for they were already sat in the seats of power, playing with the populace, a chess game with naught but pawns...

"Local authorities have mobilised air-forces" came the voice from my phone. An implant in my ear kept that fact to me, yet it came as I had climbed the ventilation shaft of a twenty storey high-rise near the centre. I gazed into the muddy-brown skies, illuminated by the never-ending neon glow of the screens in the square, beaming totalitarianism into the people. How many people, I wonder...that was my logic. Hide in plain sight, hiding underneath a mountain of people, millions of phone's, millions of IP addresses...the fact they did find me chilled me to the core, as I dived towards the asphalt, a cable around my leg slowing my descent to where I hung a few metres above the ground.

Shit. I was too high, but I had to let go. I jostled, which signalled th cable to detach from the hook, and I plummeted once more to the ground, twisting to land on my side...

The crunch of glass, and the pumelling of flesh. I wanted to scream, but I forgot that everyone had already given up doing that years ago. A few broken bottles, and the occasional needle littered the street, as I righted myself. No broken bones, just a lot of bleeding. Shit, they'll get me on the genetics front now, another target for me to break into, if I want to see myself live out the week.

But I had bigger problems. I was in the heart of the city, and even in this dingy, abandoned street, there would be a patrol, if not agents after me. I examined my map, the phone somehow surviving the fall; a sewer system raced into view, and a manhole duct was just a minute's walk from where I was. Spraying the wounds with some stolen Quikclot, I hobbled over to the centre of the road, footsteps echoing far too loudly.

Tyres! An engine of some sort approached in the distance, I hurried my pace. Shit, and the whirring of helicopter blades! God, please be loose...

Around the corner, I heard a singular set of footsteps. I could see no more than a faint flicker of movement in the darkness, and I knew it was too late. I pointed the pistol at what I assumed to be my aggressor.

"Hey, you want to die or what? I'm gonna' distract them, get outta' here, Alexa."

My hands faltered. "Why? How do I know you're not bullshitting me?" I hissed.

"I am one of your old clients. I learned what you were trying to do, and wanted to help. If you want proof..." the male voice said, before an engine roared from a few streets away. "No time, get into the sewers, I can head them off, a soft target...keep searching for the truth. Hide behind the numbers, it's safer than hiding behind false names and places..."

And with that, my unknown saviour ran off, into the lit street. I sprinted as fast as I could, my eyesight growing accustomed to the dark. I saw the manhole cover, I rithed at it with a pocket crowbar...success! Thank christ...

I slid it aside with difficulty, and felt for the steps. I fell to chest height before one appeared. Bullets, not a street away, my friend was getting killed, but no time...one, three, five, a thousand? I couldn't count anymore... I dragged the cover over, watching the streets disappear from sight as I was engulfed in the darkness. I hesitantly descended into the depths... but at least I was safe.

That was until I heard the screeching in the darkness. And it was as my device detected local motion detectors that I knew I had made a terrible mistake, and that I would be lucky to leave here alive. Maybe they won't need to fake my death after all...