Freedom Club Read Free Page A

cables, and conduit. Water, air, power, sewage, waste, network, communications. It all came through the basement’s corridors and was maintained by specialized crawlers of every size and description. Humans intermittently did some work, but that was kept to a minimum. This was the realm of the automated.
    Avoiding swarms of small multi-eyed inspection crawlers, Hugo located the secondary POS machine room and entered its secure airlock. Ventilation drastically altered as the door closed, and his eardrums adjusted to the controlled pressure.
    The inner seal soon opened, exposing him to a dark cavernous hall filled with system racks aligned in perfect symmetry. It was almost pitch black, illuminated only by the glow of ultra-low-power black lights and flexi.
    Flip sat cross-legged on the soft floor, accompanied by a pair of small maintenance crawlers providing spot lighting. Jiggling with care, Flip extracted a large circuit board from an unlocked rack. Odd sounds emanated as the board separated from its frame. Flip examined it with professional curiosity, then frowned unhappily before looking up at Hugo through bug-eyed technician grade filters.
    “Hi there, officer. How are you this evening?” he said cheerfully.
    Hugo corrected him. “It’s detective, Detective Hugo Kosterlitsky of the SWCISA.”
    “SWC...?” Flip puzzled over the initials. “Sorry, I’m not familiar with that department.”
    “The Southwest Criminal Investigation System Agency,” Hugo asserted. “We’re not a department. It’s a unit under the Union’s Cyber Crime Division. I’m here because someone raised an LS workflow. I hope I didn’t come out this late for nothing.”
    Flip carefully laid the board on a work-mat and stood up. He was a small young man, thin, in his early 20s, and wore a nondescript green jumpsuit loaded with delicate tools. He didn’t care for Union employees. Most people in his social position shared that feeling, but he was careful to hide his disdain.
    Wiping his hands with a towel he said, “Union, huh? Well, the Sentient back at our office will be able to tell you more.” He pointed down at the board. “But it’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen.”
    “You don’t say,” Hugo sniffed, then crossed his arms. “Look, just detail for me what you have. I only get involved if there are signs of premeditated LS.”
    “Lebensstörung...right.” Flip scratched his head wondering where to begin. “How technical do you want this to be?”
    “As technical as you’d like,” Hugo said, pointing to his filter. “It’s all recorded, and our technical Sentient will review everything.”
    Flip carefully picked up a board and pointed to a lattice of pasty white films that looked like an ugly slug trail. “Ya see here? All the honey chrome on this thing is dead. It’s discolored and starting to drip.”
    Hugo looked on skeptically. “A failed board... So why is that unusual? It happens from time to time.”
    Flip smiled. “Oh, yeah, every once in a long while, but this kind of board is special. Touted to be non-stop—or failsafe, so to speak.”
    Hugo smiled wryly. “I know what non-stop means, but from where I stand, it appears stoppable.”
    “No, I’m not joking!” Flip asserted. “This thing is based on proven neural PCB technology.”
    “That’s ancient!”
    “Right, we’ve been using it for the past ten years. This has all sorts of redundancy built into it. They’re rated non-stop for a good reason. We don’t have more than one of these onsite because of that.”
    Hugo was getting impatient. Nothing so far pointed to a smoking gun. Maybe this guy was just wasting his time. The profile was right for it. He’d seen many guys like this. Their lives are dreary and they like nothing better than some crisis to get attention.
    “I need something that points to LS. Why is this special?” Hugo asked firmly.
    “Well, that’s the funny bit. We had one of these go bad over in Denver a few months