Short Stories, Flash Fiction, Science Fiction Serials 2004-2008 Jimmy Jacobson http://www.bluerequiem.net en-us http://www.bluerequiem.net/data-ghosts.php Frank stepped onto the grimy pavement and his eyes were instantly bombarded with information from the world around him. Scanning the sidewalk to the left and right before merging with the flow of human traffic, he ignored the fashion ads being targeted to him by the boutique across the street and the menu items from several competing delis nearby. Melting into the foot traffic bordering the busy street, Frank reached one hand up to the strap crossing his chest from shoulder to hip. The strap held a shapeless tan bag secured against his lower back. The bag held his only real possession. This same possession had allowed him to relieve the bank he was exiting of a modest sum of money despite not being a registered user of said bank, and without anyone noticing for at least another 45 minutes. Frank's hand flipped across a small keypad fitted into the strap and immediately the flow of information being fed through his ocular nerve by his display glasses changed and became more filtered. Instead of the constant advertising of consumer services, Frank was now able to read information from the global network of citizen tracking satellites, cross referenced with various local and federal databases displayed in the real time of his heads up display. Rendered in a green font the data dangled like the sword of Damocles over the head of each person on the street. http://www.bluerequiem.net/data-ghosts2.php Question: Two cars are traveling toward each other over a distance of 45 miles. Car A is traveling at a steady rate of 65 mph while Car B is going 45 mph. At what time will they intersect? Answer: Never. When the passenger in Car B dials 555-3214, an explosive device placed in Car A will detonate and kill anyone inside. http://www.bluerequiem.net/data-ghosts3.php Snapping the phone shut and off after reading a new incoming message, the man with immaculate black hair inspected the tan bag he had retrieved from the messenger earlier this night. After noticing the computer in the bag was powered up, he found a pair of glasses in the main pocket and placed them on his perfectly symmetrical ears and over his grey eyes. Drawing back in terror, he saw Frank Crane’s name hanging in the air above the seat next to him. A buzzing in his pocket startled him to action and pulling his phone from his jacket pocket, the sharply dressed man was even more unsettled at seeing a newly delivered message from Frank himself. http://www.bluerequiem.net/data-ghosts4.php From the richest to the most destitute, humans are creatures of habit. Ninety point eight one percent of all of them spend the night in the same place ninety two point three percent of the time as the night before. Ninety five point six three percent, repeating, spend at least six hours a day sitting in the same place, every day. And eighty five percent, rounded, eat lunch at the same place and travel the same route to get there. http://www.bluerequiem.net/data-ghosts5.php By the fourteenth hour anniversary of Frank's death, a small but growing network of zombie computers was spreading across the world. At any given time it was impossible to track who was controlling them. At first, an algorithm that was based on network address and the current time was used to rotate control of the slave network between a percentage of control nodes. Traffic over the network was low to avoid detection and the control algorithm was mutating to higher degrees of sophistication, much like the code on each of the infected machines. The master node was located in a tan satchel slung over the shoulder of one Sid Cantwell who was at that moment running down an alley, splashing mud onto his black patent leather shoes. Frank's old computer deck was master to the network in title only, having no communication with the network other than observing the results of its operations. Frank's computer had finished the tasks Frank had set for it on his death, except for one. Now it was biding time, waiting for one last event to occur before finishing it all. http://www.bluerequiem.net/exotic-pet-vetrinarian.php Cloned exotic animals as pets are close to reality, but who will you take your panda to when it needs medical attention?