Mask Read Free Page B

something you might be interested in has come to our attention.  The house in the satellite image is from a suburb of Dallas,” J. Anderton explained as he pointed to the desk vid.  “See the shadows here; they are point four degrees off.”
    J. Lint glanced at the vid.  “Just an applicant?”
    R. Garraty looked over J. Anderton’s shoulder as he walked by and spread his hands, “Clearly his goal is Level One and that requires a top performance.  To get noticed requires more than changing the assigned cafeteria menu, don’t you think?”
    J. Anderton glanced down at his vid as a notification alarm went off.  “We have new data on the Anthem cover.”
    Both J. Lint and R. Garraty stopped pacing.
    “It’s a text statement, “ Tear down the Temples of Syrinx and join us in Sanctuary .”
    They all looked at each other, baffled.
    “It sounds like gibberish, Jay.  What can it possibly mean?”  R. Garraty asked.
    J. Lint leaned back against the factory floor windows and crossed his arms.
    “The techs are searching now,” J. Anderton responded.
    “Sanctuary?” R. Garraty asked.
    “A subversive organization, no doubt,” J. Lint answered, “a call for their followers.  This layer is going to show up in more places than you realize Director.  I’m confident.  This is about to go from bad to worse.”
    “Nonsense, Mister J. Lint.  If such a subversive organization were to exist we would certainly have ferreted them out long ago.  I believe this is something else entirely, a further demonstration of his talent, nothing more.  I think he very much wants to join us here at the top.”
    J. Anderton looked to the two men and put his head down to monitor his vid.
    “I do not agree with your analysis Mister Director and further more, if you were, in fact, correct in your — assessment of the situation, I would not be wasting my time here.”
    A cold shiver ran up R. Garraty’s spine.  He stepped back around his desk and dropped unprofessionally into his chair.  He glanced out the factory floor windows for any sign of the courier.  He was very concerned that Mister J. Lint might very well possess classified details on this matter that he was, so far, reluctant to share.  And if that were true, why would the Ministry choose to conceal information from him, the Director of Information Control?  But, once the courier came, he could leave this all to Mister J. Lint and good riddance.
    J. Anderton looked up from his vid.  “Sir, research has something.  The Temples of Syrinx is a reference to a rather famous musical group from the turn of the last century.  They were called Rush .  Specifically, it is a song within a larger concept.  It refers to a totalitarian regime that suppresses all individual expression.”
    Mister J. Lint glared at Garraty again.
    J. Anderton’s face paled slightly.  “And Sir, the notes on the recording reference Ayn Rand.”
    “Just an applicant?” J. Lint asked again.
    R. Garraty dropped his face into his hands and studied his desk.  This was becoming a pattern.  He tried to maintain his composure, but he could feel his promotion slipping away.  Regardless of his external protestations, he was becoming frightfully alarmed that Mister J. Lint was correct; this was not just another applicant.
     
     
    ******
     
     
    The lunch break had been canceled.  Every tech on the factory floor was chasing Slipknot through elusive threads comprised of thousands of proxy addresses.  R. Garraty knew he was out there somewhere amongst the servers and networks.  He was also sitting at a terminal access point somewhere, he must be.
    Mister J. Lint sat in a side chair examining data on his vid and sending messages.  R. Garraty assumed he was sending them to his superiors.  He just sat there nervously watching him type.
    J. Lint checked the time and tapped his vid display.
    “I read your file you know,” J. Lint said without looking up, “now, I’m no re-education engineer, but