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Data Ghosts

• Chapter 1: Predictability
• Chapter 2: EOF
• Chapter 3: The Ghost of Frank Crane
• Chapter 4: Dead Reckoning
• Chapter 5: Frank's Will

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Data Ghosts

by Jimmy Jacobson

Data Ghosts Chapter 5: Frank's Will'

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.

Each infected machine carried a small piece of the machine code that ran in the tan bag, along with instructions on how to grow and spread. The machines would incubate and mutate the code based on what was needed by the parent network, but they all shared one thing in common. They were bound by constraints Frank had coded into the original machine; all copies of his code were mathematically obligated to do his will.

In the back of a dimly lit diner, Sid Cantwell sat in a booth with his back to a brick wall. It had been a rough eight hours for him since missing the drop and first seeing his picture in the news feeds as a wanted fugitive. He had walked into the cafe with a limp and now sat with his left hand under the table to conceal the crusted blood drying there, and to secure the tan satchel resting between his knees. He reached with his right hand under his suit and tested the makeshift bandage over his left bicep. He had barely escaped the cop that had shot at him this afternoon when the officer mistook Sid for Frank Crane. Cantwell was careful not to let his fingers touch any flat surfaces in the diner in case they had the new finger print scanning laminates installed. He desperately longed to slip the data visors in the bag over his eyes and scan for blue of police closing in on him, but the fear of seeing Frank's data ghost still tailing him was too much. He had already frozen up once earlier today when he tried to use the data shades and seeing the ghost. And that had gotten him shot. It wasn't worth the risk.

Composing himself, Sid saw the break he had been waiting for. Concealing his limp with a grimace, tan bag slung over his left shoulder, Sid deftly picked the pocket of a careless man at the counter of the diner. In the same motion, Sid gently bumped the now wallet-less man and caused him to spill hot coffee. IN the ensuing chaos, Sid Cantwell slipped out the back door, hoping the contents of the stolen wallet could buy him some time until the drop was made.

to be continued