Song of the Red-Legged Birds: Chapter 35, Part 1: It’s a shame about Wake
A revelation from Luke
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With gratitude, Bill
Last week, in chapter 34, Part 3, Things went badly for Wake
Chapter 35, Part 1: It’s a shame about Wake
Red Foot Network Dispatch
02.86676-11340087
What it is, cats. - the guy
MIGRATION UPDATE
The network will be offline for 24-36 hours while we migrate to a new server. All keys will be reissued and require reauthentication. Please follow standard protocol. Note: as always, failure to do so will kick you from the network.
USER ACCOUNTS
All unused or inactive (as defined, no activity over seven days) accounts have been deleted. Two Platinum-level accounts have been blessed.
WORLD ACTIVITY
• Priority: Contact established with two Receivers in the Boston area. Several connections were recorded (birds, trees, event intrusion). Intercepts show the PDCO is aware and monitoring. Man down in a possibly related incident. One Receiver was likely threatened by a PDCO operative.
Monitoring this situation personally.
• Several reports of bird sightings in Suva, Fiji - nothing further.
• A previously reported incident of a Tree sighting in Or Yehuda, Israel, was false. Video surveillance footage was determined to be doctored. User kicked, and security protocols were engaged (see migration update).
• Unconfirmed report that the PDCO has noted a daily pulse of the bubble going back over a year. More to come.
• Escalating and consistent network probing (see migration update again, you dig?).
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That's the word, bird. The Rivingtons said it better, though.
the guy
Careen came up behind Luke, staring at the wall beyond his monitor and biting a fingernail. On his screen was a live video feed of two gamers playing FlakFest head-to-head. Below that video, commentators narrated the action. The volume was muted, and Luke’s headphones were on the desk.
“Hey!” she said, grabbing his shoulders.
“Uh, hi… Careen,” he said, refocusing.
“Forget my name there for a second? You okay?” She slid into her chair and logged in.
“Yeah,” he said, looking away and scratching his ear.
Careen looked around, “Where’s Tim?”
“He went to get some air.”
“All right, what’s up, kiddo? You look like you’re going to burst.”
Luke made an exaggerated nod toward her computer.
“What?” she said, then rolled her eyes and looked at the chat message on her screen.
LUKE: CAN WE TALK IN CONFERENCE ROOM B?
She blinked at him and sighed, then got up and walked towards the conference room. He followed a minute later and closed the door behind him. When the door closed, a red recording light blinked on from a console on the table. By default, all meetings were recorded. Luke motioned for Careen to turn it off.
She took a seat and hit the Record Off button. “You’re worrying me. I know this isn’t about FlakFest. Out with it,” she said.
He lowered his voice and looked at the floor, “I cracked the Red Foot network.”
“That’s what this is all about? Luke, we get in there all the time. And then we get kicked out again. Why so flustered?”
“No one has been in there, ever. I’m the first,” he said solemnly.
“What’re you talking about?”
“There are two Red Foot Networks. One built as a decoy, that’s the one we’re always hacking. It’s a masterpiece built by a genius. It’s defended like there’s something to defend and packed with what I assume is fake data.”
She shook her head, “No, that can’t be. They, we, have been hammering at that thing for a long time. Are you telling me it’s not real? You’re fucking with me.” She said, pushing blue locks behind an ear.
“I’m not. I found the real network, and I got inside. And...,” he took a deep breath, “I know exactly where it’s physically located, too. I know the name of the Guy. His name is Wake. I know that Takeda and Holly, the two people Desmond wants us to find, have been there with Wake.” His neck reddened.
“Holy shit! That’s freakin amazing!”
Luke was staring at the table.
“You’re worried about what will happen to them, right?”
He looked up, glassy-eyed, “I know I’m kinda naive about things that aren’t tech, but I’m not stupid.” He swallowed hard, avoiding her eyes again.
“Hey, hey,” she said, coming around the table to sit beside him. “Nobody thinks you’re stupid. Why do you say that?”
He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “Most of the stuff we do is, like, to protect the Earth. I like that. It makes me feel like I’m doing things that help, that make a difference. But I think that’s what Wake thinks he’s doing, too. The stuff I read on his site Careen... I’m confused.”
“What are you confused about?”
“Are we doing bad things or good things here?”
She took a deep breath and drummed her fingers on the table.
“Wait, that sounded dumb,” Luke said, putting up a hand, “but do you know what I mean?” The fluorescent light overhead flickered, momentarily darkening the sparsely appointed conference room.
Careen got up and walked to the door. She looked out through the narrow glass and, satisfied, sat back down to face Luke.
“You read some things that sound like we’re keeping secrets, right?” She bit her lip.
He nodded.
“And you’re surprised by that?”
“Well, no, not really, just…”
She waited for him to find the words.
“I don’t want people to get hurt because of my work. With all the precautions Wake takes to stay hidden, and with some of what I saw that he was protecting….” He looked around before speaking and lowered his voice. “Am I on the wrong side?”
Her smile took him aback. “You’re a great person, Luke. Let’s be honest, a lot of people only look at you as the tech genius that you are. They envy your skill, youth, and your genuineness. I see that too, but I also see someone with a big caring heart.”
Luke started to blush and rubbed his skinny acne-scarred neck.
“We talked about this before–about keeping secrets. It’s part of the job. When secrets are being kept, people try to figure them out. They look for a thread to pull on. It’s understandable. It’s scary to find out that something is being kept from you. Our brains are wired to assume it’s done to hurt, deceive, and damage us. That’s not always true. Some secrets are to keep people safe. That’s a lot of what we do here. I believe in what we do.”
He faced her but couldn’t meet her eyes. She reached over and tilted his chin up. Memories flooded in of doing the same thing to her brother when he told her he was joining the military. He went off to basic training the next day. It was the last time that she saw him alive.
She cleared her throat, “We’re good people, doing good work. I’m sure Wake might feel the same about what he’s doing. But we’re not out to destroy anyone. Our mission is to help. Understand?”
“I guess. I just don’t want anyone to suffer because of what I discovered. I don’t think I could handle it if those people–they’re real people you know–if they got hurt because of me,” he reached for a pen lying on the table to fiddle with.
She took the pen from his hands, then clasped both hands in hers. “They’re not going to get hurt. Yes, they’ll be questioned and prosecuted if they’ve broken the law, but that’s it. In Wake’s case, I’ve little doubt that he’ll spend some time behind bars. But that has nothing to do with his desire for truth. It’s more about his methods.”
“Okay,” he sighed. “Thanks, I know I sound naive or whatever, and I know we’ve talked about something similar recently, but you’re the only one I can reach out to.” The office chair he was sitting in suddenly dropped two inches, “Cheap chairs!” He stood up.
She stood as well. “It’s fine. We all need reassurance from time to time. This job is stressful, in addition to the cheap furniture.” She smiled. “Have you given the info to Desmond yet?”
“No, I wanted to talk to you first.” He rolled the chair aside.
“Okay then, let’s clue him in. I’m glad you talked to me, Luke.”
“Yeah, me too,” the spring returned to his step as he left the room. Careen frowned, bangs falling over an eye before she followed him.
Scott didn’t want to admit it, but he felt comfortable, back in his element. Sheila dropped him off on a side street where a walking trail split between two houses. Takeda got out with Triscuit. It allowed the dog to stretch and make what they were doing look less conspicuous.
“Good luck, man,” Takeda said, returning to the car.
“Got all the luck I need. Best be on your way. Ya’ll be careful,” Scott said over his shoulder.
The wiry veteran went a hundred yards down the wood-lined trail. Finding no one around, he took a hard left into thick brush and started making his own path. In the distance, he could hear the fading sound of the GTO growling on its way to drop off Holly and Takeda.
Twice he looked to share a hand signal with a team member trailing him. He admonished himself for not being in the moment. Habits. Dry leaves attempted to crunch under his feet, but Scott’s training wouldn’t let them. He slipped from tree to tree and remained out of eye and earshot of the backyards of the houses he drew close to.
He noticed a dog roaming a backyard. It tasted the air and bobbed its head in Scott’s general direction. Dammit, I’m downwind, he checked the breeze with a wet finger. The dog started to whine when its owner, a man clad only in a bathrobe, opened the door and called it inside. Scott stayed still and watched as the mutt pawed at the glass until the owner shooed it away.
He pulled out his phone and checked the signal. A little weak, but should be good enough. He sent a group message:
TESTING
He put the phone down on the ground and retied his sneaker.
A message came back:
GOT IT.
He kept creeping forward.
After Ira stopped screaming, he sat up. For a moment, he stared at Diane with confusion. Then the color returned to his face and recognition to his eyes.
“Are you okay?” Diane said, twisting to look at him. She managed to move the chair a little bit while he was unconscious.
Ira struggled to his feet. He steadied himself on the door handle, then pulled his hand back as if it shocked him. He sat down, took a sip of tea, and stared at Diane before picking up her phone and checking the time.
“You,” he pursed his lips, “get many birds around here?”
She tilted her head, “Do we get many birds? Sure, yes.” She searched for an answer to appease him, “Quite a few, I’d say.”
“Hmm,” he said while rising and standing in front of the glass door. He cracked the knuckles in both hands and his neck as if limbering up. Then he turned on Diane with a start. He slapped both hands on the arms of the chair and leaned in so close she could smell his cheap aftershave.
“You think you’re smart, don’t you? Playing the meek and mild, caring old woman. You don’t fool me, bitch!” He was an inch from her face, his foul breath making her turn away.
She leaned back, “I, I’m not playing at anything, sir... however, I am very scared.”
“However, I am very scared!” he mimicked. “Good one.” He pushed himself up from her chair and walked to the fireplace mantle. Then he knocked several vases off of it one at a time. They smashed, scattering flowers and water across the floorboards.
“Oops,” he grinned. Diane shut her eyes to avoid the flying shards.
“You think this is where I tell you what will happen next before I do it, don’t you? You’re waiting for that, aren’t you? One more chance to fuck with me!” He smashed the coffee table with his fist, sending a teacup arcing through the air.
Diane rocked back in her chair, almost too far. He strode forward and loomed over her, panting.
She turned her face to his, her eyes soft and calm. “I’m sorry you’re upset, son. But I assure you I’m not trying to hurt you. All I want is my daughter’s safety.”
“Hurt me? Son? Oh, you’re a shrewd one, aren’t you?” He took a step back and relaxed. “You know it’s not easy to get good at this job. You have to learn to listen. Listening is what helps.” He glanced around the room. “You ever hear of Ernest Hemingway?”
Diane nodded.
“He said, ‘I like to listen. I have learned a great deal from listening carefully. Most people never listen.’ What do you think about that?” Ira pinched a heart-shaped glass suncatcher between his fingers; it hung in front of the back door. He held it up to the light watching the crimson colors change.
“I think that’s very wise,” she said.
“Do you know how many times I’ve saved my ass simply by listening, Diane? And I don’t mean listening. I mean hearing. Hearing what someone is really saying and what they’re not saying.”
She wrinkled her brow.
“You’re not nearly as afraid of me as you should be. Oh, your little bits of acting are decent but not good enough. So, I’ll tell you a couple of things. I know you think you’ll get out of this, and maybe even before your daughter arrives. Even though I’ve told you I just want to talk to her, you’re assuming I’ll kill you and her as well? Are you correct?” he shrugged.
“I figure that Holly isn’t going to walk up here, teary-eyed, and beg me to let you go. She’s going to try some shit. Or, she’s going to, stupidly, try and get someone to help her.” He pulled the suncatcher off its hook, dropped it on the floor, and crushed it under his boot.
“I swear… if I’ve got to kill more people because of some dumb shit like that…” he kicked the glass.
“This is where I bid you adieu, Diane Johnson, until things get weird. Next, maybe you hear me murdering an idiot in your yard. Or, I walk back in here with your daughter and her friend, and we have a nice little chat. But let me leave you with this. If I step outside and a mother fucking bird flies at me–I don’t care if you’ve anything to do with it, I’ll cut your throat with that suncatcher.” He bowed and paused before trying the door handle and letting himself out onto the porch.
After cautiously scanning the sky, he surveyed the backyard. Houses were close on the left, and there were woods between the ones on the right. That confirmed the intel images he’d reviewed. A small creek ran the length of the far edge of the yard past the lawn, flanked by tall trees.
He looked for the most likely line of approach and the one an intelligent person might take if they were trying to ambush him. There was a slight depression about twenty yards into the woods on the right that would give him a view of all likely avenues, including the driveway and the porch. He sat down in the leaves and leaned back against a tree, perfect. The stun gun had a full charge when he checked it; he pulled on black leather gloves, folded his arms, and waited. A feeling that something was off nagged at him. Ira banged the back of his head on the tree in time with his thoughts. Pain brings clarity. I’m okay. I’m great.
Next week in Chapter 35, Part 2, “It’s a shame about Wake,” Ira loses himself.