paranoia s1 "reality optional" - free preview

8/3/2019 PARANOIA S1 "Reality Optional" - Free preview

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Cover by Jim Holloway


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JEROME-G, THIS IS YOUR FRIEND THE

COMPUTER.

Jerome-G had a good job at the Threat Obfuscation Department

in The Computers underground city of Alpha Complex. He

invented false threats to cover up true dangers. It made perfect

sense, once he understood The Computers idea of true is

entirely false.

INTERNAL SECURITY CONSIDERS YOU A

CITIZEN OF INTEREST.

Suddenly Jeromes fake menaces are turning real. Rogue robots

are conspiring for independence. Theres a pirate ship in the

transport tubes. And the real-est threat is the powerful executive

Ellister-V, who means to dispose of Jerome permanently.

WELCOME TO THE TROUBLESHOOTERS!

To evade a fatal reassignment as reactor shielding, Jerome

volunteers for The Computers elite service unit. Troubleshooters

heroically defend Alpha Complex from traitors. Too bad

Troubleshooters are often traitors themselves.

YOUR MISSION: FIND A LOST PAIR OF GLASSES.

If Jeromes teammates knew the equipment they seek is rightin his pocket, theyd kill him. His experimental Augmented

Reality goggles reveal the truth behind everythingand hes

more confused than ever.

YOU ARE IN ERROR. NO ONE IS SCREAMING.

THANK YOU FOR YOUR COOPERATION.

This is a FREE preview, Jeromes Augmented Reality,

Chapters 1-4 of the complete PARANOIA novel

S1Reality Optional by Gareth Hanrahan


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Jeromes Augmented Reality

Chapters 1-4 of

Reality OptionalGareth Hanrahan

Ultraviolet Books ultravioletbooks.com

Jeromes Augmented Reality, Reality Optional andPARANOIA

TM & copyright 2011 by Eric Goldberg and Greg Costikyan.

PARANOIA is a trademark of Eric Goldberg and Greg Costikyan.

All Rights Reserved. Allen Varney, Authorized User.

Based on thePARANOIA roleplaying game. Original setting &

game design by Dan Gelber, Greg Costikyan, and Eric Goldberg.

Copyright 1984, 1987, 2004, 2009 Eric Goldberg and Greg

Costikyan. All Rights Reserved.


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PARANOIA / S1Reality Optional preview/ 1

Orientation

ALPHA COMPLEX

The Computers underground city of the future. Trust The

Computer! The Computer is your friend!

SECURITY CLEARANCE

The measure of The Computers trust. Citizens are ranked

according to the colors of the spectrum: INFRAREDs are

untrusted, REDs and ORANGEs slightly trusted, and so on

up through VIOLET executives and The Computers High

Programmers, the ULTRAVIOLETs.

SECRET SOCIETIES

Diverse organizations of conspirators plotting againstAlpha Complex; threats to good order and good hygiene.


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Jeromes Augmented Reality:Chapters 1-4 from the full-length PARANOIA

novelReality Optional byGareth Hanrahan

1: Jerome-Gs quarters

Jerome-G suspected his bed was plotting against him.

As a GREEN-Clearance citizen, he was a junior executive,

with quarters to match. His rickety YELLOW-Clearance bunk

bed had been upgraded to a sleeping tube, a plastic cofn built

into the wall of his cramped apartment. The mattress squelched

when he lay on it, supposedly reconguring itself to maximize

his comfort and improve his posture. In fact it frisked him for

concealed items as he slept, insinuating memory-foam cilia into

every crack. Overhead, an aerosol drug dispenser red Wakey-

Wakey gas in the morningcycle and Sleepy-Sleep gas at 23:00. A

camera watched as he slept. Jerome had little problem with that;

if someone wanted to watch a short, spindle-thin, inconspicuous

nebbish lying prone for seven hours, ne. What bothered himwas the raised pillowhe suspected it hid a microphone so They

could listen to him talking in his sleep.

Soon after Celeste-B promoted Jerome to GREEN, hed

discovered he could remove one of the plastic panels that lined

the inner surface of the sleeping tube, revealing a convenient little

hollow. Better, if he turned on his side and curled up like a fetus

in a clone tank, he could shield the hollow from the camera. He

used the hollow to store his notes. But in the last few weeks hedbeen struck by a worrying thoughtwhat if the beds designers

knew hed use the hollow to hide treasonous material? Had they

deliberately created that space in the bed, an all-too-convenient

hiding place that could be searched for contraband and seditious

propaganda when the supposedly trusted GREEN ofcial was

away at work? Had he fallen into their trap?

Even if Internal Security broke in and found the notes, Jerome

told himself, everythings in code.

Well, almost everythingthe earliest notes, the ones Jerome

wrote to himself when he was a Junior Citizen or an INFRARED,

were plaintext. Back then, his biggest worry wasnt detection by

Internal Security, but having his memories erased. The Computer


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dictated heavy medication for lower-clearance citizens, so

everyone below ORANGE existed in a blissed-out haze. Back

then, he wrote notes to himself to preserve those moments of

blazing insight that seemed to come only to him.

THE COMPUTER IS NOT MY FRIEND was the very rst

note, written in childish block capitals on the back of a Combat

Gum wrapper. Another was Secret society agendas blind you to

the true conspiracy, scribbled in a panic after one of Jeromes

co-workers in the Food Vats tried to recruit him into the Sierra

Club by showing him a cockroach. Hed refusedeven back

then, as an INFRARED, hed worked out that Alpha Complex

was not the entire world, that there was something outside the

endless corridors, ofces, factories, cafeterias, reactors, and

confession booths of The Computers underground utopia.

Alpha Complex was not the world, but the great secret had to

be somewhere within these walls. Why else was everyone here?

The Deluded seek to defy the System, but their Deance

is simply Compliance with the Metasystem. That note dated

from soon after he was promoted out of the Food Vats intoan office job and RED Clearance. At each clearance, the

drug regimen became more subtle, and you could think more

clearly. For Jeromerather, Jerome-RRED meant a series of

pretentious, sonorous observations with Far Too Many Capitals.

Hed realized pretty much everyone else was a believer in one

deluded secret society or anotherno one was perfectly loyal

to The Computers regimebut everyones treasons, pulling

this way and that, pulled the whole system into an equilibriumborn of a hundred conicting conspiraciesall designed, he was

convinced, to distract people like him from the true manipulators

behind the scenes. Or, as he started writing it at that time, the

Great Conspiracy.

Celeste spotted his talent and pulled him up through the ranks.

She would have told him keeping these notes, even coded notes,

was an unacceptable risk. Sentimentality would get him killed.

He stuffed the notes back into the hollow and closed it tight.

Perhaps, if they were found, he could claim someone broke into

his quarters and planted the notes. Or maybe he should plant

fake notes among the real ones, to throw them off the scentbut

then, if he got brainscrubbed, would he be able to tell which were


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fake and which were real? Celeste would have told him to trust

his instincts, but

The alarm squealed on his Personal Digital Companion, jolting

him out of his reverie. He opened the sleeping tube and padded

four steps across the apartment to the Refresh-O-Matic. In its

parabolic camera lens his nose looked even bigger, his weak chin

weaker, his receding hairline recedier than reality. A tiny readout

blinked 05:46. He thumbed the CoffeeLyke button.

ATTENTION, CITIZEN JEROME-G-NSO-1. THIS IS

YOUR FRIEND, THE COMPUTER.

The Computers voice lled the whole room with electric-honey

tones, precisely calibrated to reassure and to inspire.

Friend Computer! In the darkness Jerome-G snapped to

attention. He looked up at the security camera above the door.

The Computer controlled every aspect of life in Alpha Complex.

IT IS 05:47 HOURS, CITIZEN. YOUR ASSIGNEDWAKE-UP TIME IS 06:00. WHY ARE YOU AWAKE?

Claiming insomnia meant a battery of psychological tests and

medication. Telling the truth would get him killed. A lie bubbled

up instinctively.

Thank you for your concern, Friend Computer. Im happy to

report I had an idea related to my assigned work duties while

sleeping, and wanted to write down the insight.

YOUR SHIFT AT THREAT OBFUSCATION DOES

NOT BEGIN UNTIL 07:30 HOURS, CITIZEN. IN THE

FUTURE, RESTRICT SPONTANEOUS IDEAS TO

YOUR ASSIGNED WORK SHIFT TIMES.

Yes, Friend Computer.

FAILURE TO DO SO IMPEDES WORKFLOW.

UNREGISTERED CREATIVITY IS A CLEAR

INDICATOR OF SEDITION. RISING BEFORE YOUR

ASSIGNED WAKE-UP TIME RESULTS IN FATIGUE.


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YOUR WAKEY-WAKEY AND SLEEPY-SLEEP

DOSAGES WILL BE ADJUSTED ACCORDINGLY.

Thank you, Friend Computer.

HAVE A GOOD DAYCYCLE, CITIZEN, STARTING

IN 12 MINUTES.

The CoffeeLyke dispenser disgorged a brownish slurry of

hot liquid and stringy half-dissolved nodules of freeze-dried

chemical gunk. It tasted marginally worse than it looked, but it

shook Jeromes brain to full wakefulness. It also caused heart

palpitations and liver scarring. Everyone in Alpha Complex

was assigned ve or more clone replacement bodies, and rumor

claimed the unhealthy side effects of CoffeeLyke and other

FunFoods accounted for a good 20% of all required replacements.

Citizen-on-citizen violence accounted for another 35%. That

statistic wandered nervously around Jeromes mind as the

doorbell rang.Outside, the corridor was still dark, lit only by green oor stripes

and the ashing LEDs of scrubots as they swept for litter and

bloodstains. Three shadowy gures crammed into the doorway of

Jeromes apartment, out of sight of the hallway cameras. When

Jerome opened the door, they tumbled in.

They called themselves RED Roy, ORANGE Roy, and

YELLOW Royobviously fake names, although Jerome

suspected ORANGE Roy was stupid enough to use his realname. They worked in some low-clearance manual labor section

that required hulking muscles and limited social skills. Each of

them wore a tool belt with pliers, vices, power drills, and spiky

metal bits that would make an Internal Security Information

Volunteering Enhancer jealous. All three belonged to the secret

society Free Enterprise.

Jerome appreciated Free Enterprise. That conspiracythat

maaran the underground economy of Alpha Complex. They

could get you anything for the right price, orif you let your

guard downthey could get the right price for your possessions

and internal organs. Though he suspected the secret masters of

Free Enterprise had a higher purpose, low-rank thugslike


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Roy-R, Roy-O and Roy-Ywere easily manipulated with the

promise of cash. It was absurdas if mere money meant anything

in a controlled economybut they were useful to Jerome, and

GREEN Clearance conferred a good salary.

Have you got it? he asked.

The Roys grinned at him. Something was wrong. They were

too condent. He wished hed taken his Computer-issue laser

pistol to bed with him, instead of leaving it hanging on the wall

beside the door, on the wrong side of the three increasingly-

intimidating thugs.

We got it, said Roy-R.

Were reliable, said Roy-O.

But the deals off, said Roy-Y.

To emphasize the point, Roy-R reached out and with one meaty

nger pushed Jeromes CoffeeLyke cup off the countertop. The

heatproof plastic cup bounced off the heatproof plastic oor and

splashed hot liquid over Jeromes distinctly non-heatproof shin.

He yelped and fell back against the bed.

No deal means no money for you, he said, and my superiorswont be happy with this. The superiors were a lie; Jerome had

hired the three Roys himself. For protection, hed played the

middleman, hiring the trio on behalf of some sinister mastermind

with signicant repower and anger management issues. If the

three Roys were willing to break the deal, then either someone

else was leaning on them or theyd found a way to make much

more money than Jerome paid.

Theres a new deal. Roy-Y kicked the CoffeeLyke cup acrossthe room.

A better deal, Roy-O added.

Hurry up, said Roy-R, checking the time. I wanna beat the

rush to the cafeteria.

Roy-Y loomed over Jerome. He smiled. You work in Threat

Obfuscation.

Jerome made a noncommittal spasm of his shoulders and neck,

the nonverbal equivalent of you might very well think that but I

couldnt possibly comment.

We want the les for any upcoming threats to public safety,

Roy-Y continued. Radiation leaks, chemical spills, fungal

blooms, mutie outbreaksthat kind of stuff.


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Roy-O added, Also, any shortages, ration decreases,

production shortfalls and stuff.

Roy-R didnt say anything. Hed found a packet of CruncheeTym

Soy-Based Chips in Jeromes locker and was munching them in

a threatening fashion, as if to say See this chip? This chip is you

if you dont do what we say. Were going to eat you messily and

maybe choke on you, ahem, excuse me.

And once youve got those les, let me guess. Jerome tried to

look calm, smug, protected. Youll start selling stuff on the black

market that feeds into these fears. The Computer announces a

chemical spill, and hey, youve already got ten thousand gasmasks

and chem-resistant pairs of boots in a warehouse ready to sell.

That sort of stuff?

Roy-Y snapped Never you mind! at the same moment Roy-O

said Exactly! They scowled at each other.

Those les are kept in my bosss ofce. Jerome opted for a

policy of cautious honesty. Getting them wont be easy. I might

be able to get what youre looking for, but itll take a couple of

days. ISuddenly he was on the oor. The back of his head smashed

painfully into the tiles as Roy-R grabbed his ankles and pulled.

Roy-O knelt heavily on his left hand, crushing the ngers. Roy-Y

put his foot on Jeromes chest and leaned down, presenting an

unpleasant close-up of his aring nostrils.

No. Youll get those les today. Well be back here at lunch,

hear me? And if those les aint here then, well -

He means well hurt you with our power tools, Roy-O said.Like, well cut toes off, or drill you with our drills. Or put bits

of you in the vise.

And then close the vise, Roy-R added. I dont think we

should do the toe thing. It turns my stomach.

Roy-O nodded. Okay, then just the drills. Well drill you with

the power drills, and well hurt you with the vise, but He

lowered his voice to a intimidating growl. well leave your

toes intact.

Roy-Y stared. Did you two miss the Threats and Intimidation

seminar at the last general meeting? They did a whole section

on letting the victims imagination ll in the details. Way more

effective.


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Roy-O hurled himself at Jerome, grabbed his collar, and hissed,

Forget what I just said! Were going to hurt you in extremely

non-specic ways! They mayor may not involve power

tools!

But no toes! Roy-Rs face turned a shade of green several

levels about his clearance.

Probably kneecaps then, if that works for everyone! Roy-O

showed murderous rage and a talent for consensus-building.

And what if I just report you all to Internal Security? Jerome

askeda question from the oor.

Roy-Y had obviously rehearsed his answer. Then well tell

IntSec the high-and-mighty GREEN executive was looking for

the secret location of the Humanist meeting. IntSec doesnt bother

us. We just do grievous bodily harm and smuggling and extortion.

But wanting to join the Humanists? Thats treason, big treason.

You report usthey just kick the Hot Fun out of us. We report

youyoure terminated.

They kicked him once each, for emphasis, then stomped out.

Jerome pulled himself onto the bed and slumped back onhis intrusive mattress. He had no intention of joining the

Humanists; he needed that meeting location to keep tabs on

Celestes allies. But Internal Security wouldnt buy that as an

excuse. The Computers inquisitors were unlikely to be moved

by a plea of I was only committing treason because I suspect

Celestes Humanist allies are targeting me for assassination after

I terminated her. Of course, The Computers inquisitors werent

moved by any plea. They worked off an interrogation scriptderived from telemarketing, and it had no branches involving

mercy or mitigating circumstances. Reporting the Roys to IntSec

had been a bluff, and theyd called it.

He had to get the les.

The les were in Peter-Bs ofce.

And Peter-B was the one citizen Jerome could never beat.


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TWELVE YEARCYCLES AGO....

Jerome-NSOINFRAREDs didnt get clearance initialssat in

the best holding cell ever. He wasnt quite sure why this particular

cell was the most wonderful place in all Alpha Complex, but

it sure was. The dim light, the decaying, crumbling walls, the

hard bed, the security camera, and most of all the pungent

stencheverything he saw or smelled ooded his brain with

absolute happiness.

Or maybe that was the drugs. They had given him quite a lot

of drugs.

He wracked his brains for memories that hadnt turned to merry

sludge. Something about a riot. He vaguely remembered a riot.

He even remembered doing something to start it.

You told your barracks-mates there was free Bouncy Bubble

Beverage in the HPD&MC admin section, said a wobbly hazy

gure. Looking at wobbly hazy gures was fun! Fun made him

happy. He giggled.

And when they smashed the door down, you sneaked off

and tried to break into the secure les, Wobbly Hazy Figurecontinued. Concentrating really really hard, he thought Wobbly

Hazy Figure might be a woman wearing orange. He reached

back as far as he could in his memory, and remembered the last

thing Wobbly Hazy Figure said. It was an accusation! Wobbly

Hazy Internal Security!

Somewhere under the fuzzy goop of the drugs was his

cleverness. He could get out of this one. Getting out of things

made him happy.I didnt sneak off and try to break into the secure les. There.

That would do it. Being so happy made him clever. No, other way.

Being so happy made him clever. Wait. One more time. Being

soclever! Made him clev- happy! That was it! He was happy

that he was happy. He was so happy he shared his cleverness

with Wobbly Hazy Figure.

That was a lie! I did sneak off. I did break into the secure

les. He giggled again. Confession was fun.

Why did you do that? asked Wobbly Hazy Figure softly.

He frowned. There was a Reason. A really big capital-letter

Reason. Hed arranged the riot, gotten his barracksmates hooked

on Bouncy Bubble Beverage, spied on the higher-clearance


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citizens for weeks because of the Reason. The Reason made him

more than happy, it was Important.

To nd out the truth, he admitted. Are you going to terminate

me?

Wobbly Hazy Figure wobbled. Im not Internal Security,

Jerome. Im a friend.

He smiled again. Having a friend made him happy.

2: Conformity Is Fun MultifunctionalPublic Space

One of Jerome-Gs articles of faith, recorded on a scrap of

paper hidden in his sleeping tube, was that the Great Conspiracy

manipulated everyone in Alpha Complex by playing on their

delusions. Everyone danced when it pulled their invisible

strings. For years, Jerome had survived by pulling those strings

himself, becoming a parasite on the vast organization whose

existence he alone could perceive. Everyone else in Alpha

Complex had bought into a false reality that blinded them to theConspiracy. Innocent citizens loyal to The Computers regime

believed Alpha Complex existed to protect them from the threat

of Communism. Pull the strings marked appeal to patriotism

or fear of Commies and they jumped. If he tried to speak the

truth, the Conspiracy, through its Internal Security stooges, would

brand him a traitor and terminate him. Yet he had to make people

understand. He had to show them something they couldnt ignore,

some absolute proof.Other secret societies and beliefs were just distractions. The

Great Conspiracy hid behind a thousand masks, concealing itself

with lesser false conspiracies. People like the Free Enterprisers

believed the whole system was just a money-making scam;

their metaphorical strings were labeled greed and prot.

The religious nuts who thought The Computer was a god would

never look to see who was really running The Computer. The

ambitious lickspittles who thought the High Programmers were

in charge dismissed the power and reach of the various secret

societies that had inltrated all of Alpha Complex. The rebels

and anarchists who fought the system were really just puppets

of a different kind, one hand of the great conspiracy rebelling


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against the other so that neither hand felt the strings connecting

it to the third hand that actually pulled...

The metaphor, Jerome realized, was escaping him.

But Jerome was smart enough to see the truth. Given time, he

was condent he could outwit the three Roys. Theyd escalated

to violence faster than anticipated, but that could be dealt with,

although coming up with a cunning plan by lunch was pushing

it. Getting the le from Peter-Bs ofce was a bigger issue.

Another article of faith, on a separate paper scrap, held

that everyone could be manipulated. There was no hermetic

traitor even someone who secretly espoused a really out-there

philosophy, like a Sierra Clubber who wanted to return to the

Outdoors, must pretend to be a good citizen, and so could be

motivated by appeals to patriotism. Often traitors were especially

vulnerable to such appeals, as they try to cloak their treason in

obsequious, cloying, overly enthusiastic loyalty. Jeromes system

depending on identifying the most effective levers and, well,

levering them. Give him a place to spy, and he would blackmail

the world.Peter-B was the exception. After months of observing Peter,

Jerome still found him a perfectly smooth sphere without the

slightest hint of a lever. Everyone else had aws, ambitions,

agendas, dark secrets, or just personal opinions Jerome could use,

leverage, and nally turn against them. Peter had nothing. He

lived his life in strict accord with regulations. He never took risks

or missed deadlines. He never stuck his neck out for anything,

never made a decision that wasnt ratied by a dozen fact-ndingcommittees. It wasnt that he was noticeably loyal, either. Jerome

could have applied his techniques to fervent patriotism, but Peter

approached loyalty as he approached everything else: with a xed

determination to conform exactly to what was expected of him,

and no more. With frustration and perhaps a little fear, Jerome

acknowledged Peters astounding powers of deception. Behind

that spongy, buffoonish exterior, his boss concealed a mind like

a steel trap and the survival instincts of a mutant cockroach.

Threat Obfuscation was within walking distance of his

quarters if he cut across the SMO Sector Conformity Is Fun

Multifunctional Public Space. The huge, hangar-like room was

crowded this morning, as INFRARED workers and their RED


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supervisors got the place ready for some kind of event. At one

end, a scaffold for a screen stood half-nished, while overhead

theyd strung steel cables for bunting and banners. Internal

Security troopers in green armorGREEN goons, IntSecs all-

purpose musclepushed through the crowd with bomb detectors

and chem-sniffers.

Jerome stepped past an ORANGE technician who was arguing

with a newly-installed vendobot. Youll go where I put you.

The technician wrestled the machine up against the wall.

Everyone will be looking at the stage, the machine whined.

I should be up at that end. Youre impeding my ability to sell

Bouncy Bubble Beverage. Almost every appliance in Alpha

Complex had a bot brain in it, for the convenience and happiness

of citizens. (At least, for the convenience and happiness of

citizens working in the lucrative bot brain industry. If you just

wanted to buy a can of Bouncy Bubble Beverage with a minimum

of arguments and existential vending-machine angst, you were

out of luck.)

ATTENTION CITIZENS, THIS IS A SECURITY

ANNOUNCEMENT. THIS SECTOR MAY BE

TARGETED BY COMMIE MUTANT TRAITOR

TERRORISTS. REPORT ANY SUSPICIOUS

BEHAVIOR, SUSPECT PACKAGES, OR OTHER

POTENTIAL THREATS. THANK YOU FOR YOUR

COOPERATION.

The Computers announcement galvanized the IntSec goons

into action. They started checking the credentials of every

citizen trying to leave the Multifunctional Public Space. It

was like putting a bar magnet into a tray of iron lings, if the

lings spontaneously organized into a very, very long queue.

Attempting to pull rank would only make Internal Security

suspiciousonly citizens of BLUE Clearance or higher could

breeze through checkpoints. As Jerome crept towards the exit,

he felt time ticking away.

To no one in particular, he said, I like my kneecaps.


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TEN YEARCYCLES AGO....

Celeste-O described her work as data mine hygiene. The lower

clearances were denied virtually all information, but the higher

clearances suffered the opposite problem: too much data coming

at them from every direction. Millions of security cameras, hidden

mikes, informants and spies and counter-spies, surveillance

reports and rumors and trafc analyses, and on top of all that,

a middle class of clerks, analysts, advisors and bureaucrats so

desperate to justify their positions they could extract a 50-page

threat report from a single word picked up by a surveillance bug.

Sorting signals from noise was close to impossible.

Celeste worked with data miners who tried to identify patterns

in the data. Too often they went insane, making connections

seemingly at random. She explained it to Jerome-R at one of

their clandestine meetings.

Situation: You are a data miner. You have identied a group of

traitors using a code to communicate. Celeste spoke in a clipped

monotone, and rarely looked directly at Jerome. When she did,

she watched him as though from the far end of a telescope, likean explorer analyzing the strange natives of Alpha Complex.

She looked quite nice, with sculpted features, black hair pulled

back in a tight bun, and a trim gure suited for much higher-

clearance clothing than her baggy orange jumpsuit. When she

rst recruited him, Jerome assumed she had some scheme in

mind. It took him several months before he realized she was, in

some distant way, lonely.

Whats the code?A simple color-based code. A limited number of words or

phrases are encoded as color-band pairs or triplets. Red/yellow

might mean meeting, red/red signies we are being watched,

and so on. Yellow/yellow means do not trust what I am saying to

you. The traitors can transmit covert messages as color patterns

in conversation, or post notices in some fashionsay, if they

control a laundromat, they can ll different dryers with jumpsuits

of the appropriate color. Any traitor passing the laundromat can

see the message bomb-making meeting next Twosdayhigh

security, but everyone else just sees a row of dryers.

Celeste pointed to the band of red paint along the cafeteria

oor. One of our analysts cracks this code. He can now read the


17/39


traitors hidden messages. However, color pairs are everywhere in

Alpha Complex. Lookthe two of us form an orange/red color,

signifying Threesday. The data miner knows the code but not

the context in which to apply it, so Alpha Complex becomes

a cacophony of secret messages. Every time he sees a pair of

colored objects, his mind instinctively translates it.

Jerome-R sipped his CoffeeLyke. Hed learned if you waited

until it was no longer searing hot, then swallowed without tasting,

you could get most of the caffeine without the lingering sensation

of burnt plastic. I can see how that would be distracting.

Distracting! Celeste-O conveyed emotion not with the tone

of her voice, but with her unnaturally mobile eyebrows. Its

maddening. Rapidly, pareidolia sets in. With the sheer number

of random color-pairs, its inevitable some will appear strangely

signicant. The analyst comes to believe someone is trying to

communicate with him via, say, the arrangement of avored

CruncheeTym snack packets in a vending machine or the shoes

worn by transbot commuters. The analyst becomes useless.

And then you come in. He always enjoyed his conversationswith Celeste. He never let his guard down completely, of course

there was every possibility she was an IntSec provocateurbut

if this strange creature was an actress sent to entrap him, theyd

done a masterful if eccentric job.

Celeste nodded. Precisely. My role is to debrief the deranged

and extract any useful insights I can.

Ever get anything useful?

Ofcially, no. However Celeste stole a sidelong glance atJerome. I began to discern certain patterns in the data. I found

I could draw parallels between techniques, match rumors

Someones trying to communicate with you via insane data

miners?

No, of course not, she said hurriedly. I havent thought that

in months. No, Ive developedwell, am developinga set of

techniques for identifying modes of treason and deception, for

nding commonalities among conspiratorial structures.

Jerome wasnt sure if he was feinting to determine if she was

an IntSec agent, orfor the rst time in his lifeexpressing

genuine trust. Regardless, he found himself confessing. Ever

since I was a Junior Citizen, Ive always felt there was a big


18/39


conspiracy out there, behind everything. Ive never known where

to start looking.

Four citizens sat down nearby: red/yellow/red/orange.

Celeste-O watched them through her telescope.

Then, for the rst time, she looked directly at Jerome. I think

youre right.

3: Threat Obfuscation

Threat Obfuscation is a natural response to standard information-

security protocols. Say you, a high-ranking Internal Security

coordinator, have just found out those dastardly Communists are

about to attack the main airlock in Sector XYZ. You send heavily

armed agents down to the airlock to zap the Commies, right?

But waitwhat if theres a Commie spy in your employ? If

you dispatch your agents to the airlock to arrest the Commies,

the spy tips off the enemy and theyll change their plans. But

if you dont order your agents down to the airlock, XYZ will

be overrun by borscht-eating socialists and The Computer willstart asking awkward questions like WHEN DID YOU FIRST

REALIZE YOU WERE CRIMINALLY INCOMPETENT?

Youve got to position your agents withoutand this is the tricky

bitwithout your own agents knowing about it.

Enter the Department of Threat Obfuscation.

Threat Obfuscation creates a new fake threat for your agents to

investigate that just happens to be right next door to the airlock.

So you tell all your agents theyre investigating the AirlockTechnician Drug Smuggling Ring, the Commie spy never realizes

youre onto their evil plot, the Commies get zapped, and you get

promoted! Bonus Hot Fun rations for all, right?

But wait, wait! What if theres also a Commie spy in Threat

Obfuscation? One well-placed spy there could ruin everything

by reporting which threats are real and which are fake. The only

rational solution, obviously, is to feed everything produced by

Threat Obfuscation back into Threat Obfuscation a few times,

so no one knows if the real threat is the Airlock Technician Drug

Smugglers or Dangerous Toxins Carried In From Outdoors or

the Communists or Citizens Driven Mad By Airlocks Changing

Their Inner Ear Pressure, It Can Happen You Know or....


19/39


Your card, citizen. Another IntSec guard was stationed at the

door of Threat Obfuscation. That was unusual. The department

didnt normally rate a door guard.

Jerome-G swiped his ME Card through the scanner. It

bleeped twice. The guard seemed satised with the rst bleep

and disconcerted by the second, but he let Jerome past without

questions. Glancing around the ofce, Jerome instantly picked up

on the tension. Frightened faces with xed plastic smiles watched

him as he walked to his cubicle. A half-dozen IntSec troopers

guarded other exits, and another two stood at the entrance to

Peter-Bs ofce. The last time thered been this much security

presence at Threat Obfuscation was when they came to arrest

Celeste-B.

Betraying nothing, he kept his head down and went straight

to his desk.

The ofce was a testament to the many threats its workers had

imagined:

The ofce light was dim and yellowish. The ceiling lights werelow-power, low-mercury plastic tubing, because (as everybody

knows) a random power surge can make uorescent glass bulbs

explode, driving glass shards into your eyes and mercury vapor

into your lungs, blinding you, permanently damaging your

nervous system, and causing lifelong chronic or recurrent tremors

in your limbs, though this isnt quite so much a nuisance as you

might think because your life expectancy is quartered. Newly

assigned workers suffered eyestrain and headaches until theystarted bringing in mini-ash handheld lights. You know, though,

the batteries in those things can explode at any second.

Each desk was bulletproof, of course, and a worker could,

on ten seconds notice, simply pull down a sliding panel to

recongure the desks underside as a fully enclosed bomb shelter.

Unfortunately the panel mechanism tended to jam, trapping

the worker until freed by some outside agency with (usually) a

welding torch. Jerome-G had heard stories of workers trapped

until death from thirst, which just proved anything could go

wrong at any time.

Under a pilot program coordinated with Research & Design

service rm ChairBag Safety RD, many Threat Obfuscation


20/39


desk chairs were equipped with experimental airbags. Though

workers were unconvinced of the danger of Unpredictable

Massive Seating-Product Wheel Failure, they liked the airbags

for their quieting effect on ofce arguments. The jerk who used

to pound the arm of his chair now merely tapped an irate nger

on the desktop, though of course that only left said worker open

to the non-negligible peril of bacterial contaminants under the

ngernails, no really, you dont know what cleansers the scrubots

use, you could get that stuff under a nail, absently lick your

nger or pick your nose, and next thing you know a docbot is

transplanting your liver. Even desktop nger-tapping now merited

a warning poster: DONT BE A SAP, STOP THAT TAP! Really,

it just made sense.

Jerome enjoyed his job. Unlike virtually every other assignment

in Alpha Complex, Threat Obfuscation had a little creativity and

a little power. When he heard The Computer make a security

announcement about one of his invented threats, it gave him

a conspiratorial thrill. For that single moment, he was on the

inside; if the conspiracy was invincible and omniscient, theydnever have let him rise to his current clearance. Every time they

used one of his obfuscations, they revealed their vulnerability

and foreshadowed their inevitable defeat.

When she was in charge, Celeste appreciated creative threats;

theyd done great work together. Losing her was such a shame.

All Peter wanted to do was repeat the same few standard threats

over and over.

The mornings C-mail cascaded across the screen. Trivialannouncements about revised Fear Quotas, a proposal for a new

Unspecied Free-Floating Anxiety Index, ddling directives

about proper capitalization, another round of employee hygiene

mandates, and more security reminders about watching for

Commie spies.

Next he scanned his actual work-related mail, looking for an

excuse to visit Peters ofce. Maybe he could propose a bomb

threat at a product launch? No, hed done that one last week.

Pitch a few rumors of sentient boot fungus? Mutants tunneling

in from the Underplex?

A hand landed on his shouldera big, callused hand with a rm

grip, the sort of grip that ts equally well around a truncheon or a


21/39


suspects neck. This was an Internal Security hand and a youre

a Citizen of Interest grip.

He looked up. Three quarters of the way up the hands arm he

saw a green armband with the motto SECURITY THROUGH

VIGILANCE and the logo of a watchful eye. He skipped over

the shoulder part of the tour to the helmeted head. Flat, much-

broken nosescarred lantern jaw with stubbledeep-set dead

eyesyes, that was an IntSec face. Jerome-G?

From his repertoire of mandatory smiles Jerome selected the

most bland and inoffensive example. Can I help you, ofcer?

This way. The guard marched Jerome across the ofce to

Peters door. It wasnt really the way hed wanted to meet with

his boss, but as excuses went, this one was convincing.

Peter-B, a small fat black-haired man seated behind a big fat

blue-painted desk, looked even more anxious than usual. His

doughy cheeks glistened with cold sweat, and he was constantly

licking his pale, pouted lips. Though he kept his posture exactly

within regulated limits, he somehow managed to quiver.

Jerome looked up at a shelf behind Peters head. There sat thefolder of threat datathe data that could save Jeromes kneecaps.

On the couch in the corner sat another Internal Security ofcer,

this one dressed in a snappy BLUE-clearance uniform instead of

armor. The ofcerhis badge readHayden-Bexamined Jerome

as one examines a stray hair in a bowl of soysoup.

On the far wall was a huge teleconferencing monitor, and

onscreen wasuh-oha VIOLET executive. VIOLETs were

unimaginably senior gures; to have one here, even virtually,implied a crisis. The youngish man had a long face, sculpted

features, and hair that looked like every strand had been

engineered to t his head. Behind his thick-rimmed glasses, his

eyes were inhumanly bright, his pupils the pinpricks of a man

high on adrenaline, ambition, and a whole dispensary of high-

clearance drugs. Every few seconds, his gaze ickered away

from the camera to some other screen; he was watching a dozen

similar teleconferencing feeds at once.

Jerome-G reporting as ordered, friends, and may I say it is

an honor to address such respected citizens. Bootlicking wasnt

his forte, but it never hurt to try. The VIOLET glanced at Jerome

and snorted.


22/39


Peter leaned forward. His voice quavered. Look, Jerome-G,

just answer their questions, and none of your nonsense. He

thinks hes smarter than me.

The last remark was directed at Hayden-B, who nodded. He

probably is. Traitors often display a high level of intelligence.

Tell me, Jerome-G, what do you know about the League of Free

Bots?

Theyre a conspiracy of renegade bots who plot to overthrow

The Computers glorious regime.

Is that all?

Jerome steeled himself. That is all the information available

through standard channels, ofcer.

Under Mandate ISPM 102.14/c, this matter is now a security

concern.

In that case, friend Hayden-B, I can reveal that the League of

Free Bots is a threat obfuscation generated in this ofce.

What about the Transtube Pirates?

The same.

Sentient boot fungus.Er, yes. Though that one hadnt really own. Not his best

work.

The Humanists.

Traitors, sir. A genuine threat, not obfuscated. The Humanists

were one of the oldest and most insidious conspiracies in Alpha

Complex. They were dedicated to subjugating The Computer and

establishing a new government of and by humans.

Do you have any previous association with knownHumanists?

Yes, sir. Thats a matter of record.

Hayden-B made a note on his PDC data tablet. Jerome felt a

bead of sweat well up on his right shoulder blade and run down

his back.

The VIOLET executive grew visibly impatient. Get on with

it, Hayden-B. Ive got a meeting in ve.

Hayden-B leapt to his feet and barked a series of questions:

Have you ever deliberately neglected to obfuscate known

threats? Have you ever passed information to any person or

persons not cleared to receive said information? Are you now

or have you ever been a member of any illegal society, group,


23/39


assembly, or conspiracy against The Computers regime? Have

you ever received bribes, gifts, favors, or other considerations

in exchange for deliberate manipulation or misuse of secure

threat-related data, obfuscated or non-obfuscated? Are you loyal

to The Computer? Have you ever embedded overt or subliminal

signals in your obfuscated threats that could be interpreted as

seditious propaganda and/or encoded messages? Have you ever

deliberately substituted material from other sources for approved

obfuscatory disinformation? Failure to answer any or all of these

questions will result in termination. Fragments of red-ecked

spittle sprayed from Haydens mouth.

No to all of them, apart from the one about being loyal to The

Computer. Jerome turned to Peter. Whats going on?

Were under suspicion of failure to obfuscate.

Friends, Ive always carried out my duties diligently. If you

check my record

We know your record, said the VIOLET. Jerome felt more

sweat drops forming.

Peter mopped his unspacious brow. Jerome-G, you haventdone anything treasonous, have you? During work hours, that

isI dont care if youre treasonous on your own time. He made

a sickly smile at the teleconferencing monitor.

No, Peter-B, I have not.

Come on, Jerome-G, if youve done anything wrong, you

should confess. Im sure itll only be a slap on the wrist or a

ne or

Termination, said Hayden-B.Or a little termination, but itll be over quickly. Theyre

really efcient about it these days.

Jerome understood.Its not just me. The whole department is

up against the wall.

Im sorry, friends, I cant think of anything relevant.

The VIOLET executive scowled and made a signal.

I think weve heard enough, Hayden-B said in the same tone

of voice one might use to say Have you any last words?

Wait! said Peter. Jerome-G, II order you to report to

the confession booth! Ofcer, Im sure, given time to reect,

Jerome-G will think of something to confess to you.

Hayden shrugged and tapped a button on his PDC.


24/39


Jerome made a nal plea. Peter-B, naturally I love spending

time with our friend The Computer, but I insist I have no

knowledge of treasonous activity. In fact, if youd just let me

borrow that threat data folder, Im sure I can prove my diligent

obfuscation.

They ignored him. The door opened, and that same rough hand

gripped Jeromes shoulder.

Escort Citizen Jerome-G to the nearest confession booth,

said Hayden-B, and ensure he confesses.

The GREEN goon yanked Jerome out of the ofce.

4: Confession booth

HELLO, CITIZEN. WOULD YOU LIKE TO CONFESS

YOUR TREASON?

The confession booth was a lot smaller on the inside. It

had room for just a single narrow wipe-clean seat and a hugemonitor with The Computers staring eye. But Jerome-G knew

the confessional concealed all sorts of probes and sensors. If

The Computer detected your confession was not sufciently

heartfelt, it could encourage you with medication, or a gentle

poking, or by vaporizing you so your future clones might feel

more cooperative. The booths werent soundproofthey wanted

people to hear the screams.

Hello, Friend Computer. I was ordered to report to theconfession booth.

CITIZEN, PLEASE CONFESS YOUR TREASON

NOW.

I dont actually have anything to confess right now.

ARE YOU SURE?

Yes, Friend Computer.


25/39


THANK YOU, CITIZEN. YOU MAY NOW EXIT THE

BOOTH.

The door hissed open. Jerome stepped out, and the GREEN

goon shoved him back in. Hayden-B ordered me to bring you

to this booth and ensure you confess, so were here until you

confess. Understand? The guard thumbed the door button, and

Jerome was once again sealed in darkness.

HELLO CITIZEN. WOULD YOU LIKE TO CONFESS

YOUR TREASON?

I dont have anything to confess!

ARE YOU SURE?

Yes!

THANK YOU, CITIZEN. YOU MAY NOW EXIT THEBOOTH.

The door opened. The goon brandished his laser pistol.

Jerome-G reached over and pressed the button. The door closed.

HELLO CITIZEN. WOULD YOU LIKE TO CONFESS

YOUR TREASON?

Can I just sit here for a few minutes?


NOW.

Er, Im just marshalling my thoughts to present them in the

most efcient manner.

HERE IS A SUGGESTION: WASTING TIME IN A

CONFESSION BOOTH.


26/39


Computer, are there treasonous deeds on my record I am

unaware of?

THAT INFORMATION IS NOT AVAILABLE AT YOUR

SECURITY CLEARANCE.

So, the only thing Im currently accused of is wasting time

confessing?

THAT INFORMATION IS NOT AVAILABLE AT

YOUR SECURITY CLEARANCE. CITIZEN, THIS

CONFESSION SESSION IS CURRENTLY RATED

POOR. PLEASE IMPROVE THE QUANTITY AND

QUALITY OF YOUR CONFESSION IMMEDIATELY

OR YOU WILL BE FINED.

If I say Ive got nothing more to confess, youll just open the

door again, right?

CORRECT. CITIZEN, PLEASE CONFESS YOUR

TREASON NOW.

Whats the penalty for wasting time in a confession booth?

THAT INFORMATION IS NOT AVAILABLE AT YOUR

SECURITY CLEARANCE.

Jerome rubbed the bridge of his nose. The chair smelled

like fried food, reminding him of his impending lunchtime

kneecapping. Admittedly, the loss of his kneecaps paled beside

whatever was going on back at Threat Obfuscation, which looked

likely to lead to his termination. This day was not going well.

He felt like screaming.

Outside, someone started screaming.

Jerome listened intently. He heard the distinctive fzzzap of

laser re, the distinctive hiss-bubble-pop of someone being shot

by a laser, not-particularly-distinctive screams, and an alarming

amount of carnagein Jeromes life, any carnage at all was


27/39


automatically distinctive. And it was getting closer. He heard

shouts of Traitors! and Deviants! and For the committee!


NOW.

Fzzzap-pop-clunk-ssssshhhhhhlicck-thunk! Jerome correctly

interpreted this as the security guard outside being shot by a

laser, dying, falling back against the booth, sliding down the

stainless-steel surface, then slumping to the ground. Uh, Friend

Computer, Im hearing entirely too much laser re for comfort.

If you dont mind, Ill just wait it out.

YOUR CONTINUED RETICENCE WILL BE TAKEN

AS A NON-SPECIFIC ADMISSION OF GUILT.

No! Just dont open the door for a while!

CITIZEN, PLEASE CONFESS YOUR TREASONNOW.

I waste time in confession booths! I spilled some CoffeeLyke

in my quarters! The booth rocked back and forth as something

exploded outside.

THANK YOU, CITIZEN. IS THAT EVERYTHING?

Yes! No! Im not sure.

YOU APPEAR CONFUSED. MEDICATION WILL

HELP.

A robot arm extended out of the darkness, tipped with a syringe.

I dont need medication right now, Friend Computer.

YOUR BELIEF IS NOTED.

Jerome dodged as best he could in the cramped connes, and

the syringe buried itself in the arm of the chair.


28/39


THIS SESSION IS AT AN END.

Computer! What are my options for atoning for my crimes?

A FINE WILL AUTOMATICALLY BE LEVIED

AGAINST YOUR PERSONAL ACCOUNT.

The booth rocked again. Outside, someone screamed, Theyve

got a amethrower! Theyve got a amethrower! Im on re!

What if I dont want to pay the ne?

OTHER REMEDIES INCLUDE PSYCHOLOGICAL

THERAPY, VOLUNTEERING FOR TROUBLE-

S H O O T I N G D U T Y , M E D I C A T I O N , O R

REASSIGNMENT TO REACTOR SHIELDING DUTY.

Someone dealt with the amethrower by throwing rather a lot of

grenades. Debris spattered on the booths roof. More explosions

echoed down the corridor.Therapy! Lets have a therapy session right here, right now,

in this nice safe booth.

C E R T A I N LY, C I T I Z E N . I N I T I A T I N G

PSYCHOLOGICAL THERAPY MODULE. THIS

MODULE IS TAILORED TO YOUR SPECIFIC

PERSONALITY TYPE AND BEHAVIORAL

PROFILE, AND WILL PROBE DEEP INTO YOURPSYCHE TO UNCOVER BURIED TRAUMA AND/

OR CONCEALED TREASONOUS IMPULSES.

MODULE BEGINS: HOW DO YOU FEEL?

Happy! Happiness was mandatory for all citizens of Alpha

Complex.

WHY DO YOU THINK YOU FEEL HAPPY?

Right now, I feel happy because Im so safe inside your

wonderful confession booth.


29/39


WHY DO YOU THINK IM SO SAFE INSIDE YOUR

WONDERFUL CONFESSION BOOTH?

Ermainly because its blastproof.

WHY DO YOU THINK ITS BLASTPROOF?

Another explosion, bigger and closer. The screen died, and

the speaker cracked with static. The door half-opened, then

froze. Jerome-G poked the close button, but the booth had lost

power. On the bright side, the explosion seemed to have ended

the reght.

He squeezed out of the battered booth, or what was left of it.

The goon was now a charred corpse with a smoking hole in his

chest. Jerome-G gingerly picked up the guards laser pistol. Four

rings glowed on the barrel, showing it was still good for at least

four lethal blasts.

Jerome thought he might need those shots, because reghts in

Alpha Complex were cyclic. Right now, he knew, the TechnicalServices clone tanks were busy decanting new clones of the

recently killed. Copies of their personalities, constantly updated

via the MemoMax implant in every citizens brain, would soon

be imprinted onto the fresh clones. The replacements would

then be shipped back to their last known location, the place

where theyd died. Even known traitors would get the benet of

resurrection, for The Computer was convinced treason resulted

from subversion and this time the fresh clones would be loyal.Decanting, imprinting, and shipping took only minutes. This was

half-time in the carnage, a short breather for both teams.

Being sensible, Jerome wanted to head right out, which meant

heading right.Rightwas the most direct route from the carnage.

Rightwas only a short walk back to his quarters. The problem

was, rightwas blocked by a big pile of rubble.

Leftwas his only option, but leftwould shortly be lled with

troopers and traitors, all even more enthusiastic after their quick

breather.

Left, he discovered, involved stepping over rather a lot of

dismembered body parts. The mayhem was simultaneously

gory, disturbing and ridiculous. He picked his way over the


30/39


scattered, toasted remains of at least a dozen combatants. Some

he could recognize as Internal Security guards; some wore the

distinctive laser-reective armor of Troubleshooters. Others,

in civilian jumpsuits or home-made armor, must have been the

traitors who attacked.

This short stretch of corridor appeared to be the epicenter of

the reght. There was no cover here, no strategic objectives,

yet wave after wave had rushed in to die. Why?

Then Jerome saw the case. He stopped dead. Under his breath

he muttered, 530.20/a.

In Alpha Complex they dont say curiosity killed the cat.

For one thing, they dont have cats. For another, they dont do

metaphor well. The closest equivalent is Mandate ISPM 530.20/a,

Accessing information above your security clearance is treason

and will result in summary termination.

Lying in the middle of the corridor was a small grey plastic

case, about the size of Jeromes hand and shaped like a attened

cylinder. It was remarkably free of splatters, though the bloodied

bodies of eight traitors and goons lay in a circle around it, allwith hands outstretched as if theyd died trying to grab it. The

scene reminded Jerome of a FunBall match where both teams

suffered massive casualties before they even reached the FunBall,

until one team managed to successfully defend from behind the

mound of bodies.

Had all these people died for that case? Why? What was the

conspiracy trying to hide? He had to know.

Greatly daring, Jerome bent down and, without breaking stride,scooped up the case. As he trotted out of the warzone, the case

weighed down his pocket like a lump of plutonium.

Jerome made it back to the Conformity Is Fun Multifunctional

Public Space before the shooting started again behind him. The

cries echoed down the corridorHes got a amethrower again!

Im on re again!but this room was well clear of any ghting.

He ducked into a side corridor and opened the case.

A pair of glasses.

They were thick-rimmed clear glasses, lying in a foam-rubber

cut-out to protect them. At the end of each arm dangled a tiny

in-ear headphone, and there was a little data port in the right arm.

On the left arm, he found an on-off switch. Holding the lenses up


31/39


to the light, he could see on their circumference an indescribably

ne tracery of microcircuits.

He put on the glasses. He pressed the switch.

He saw wonderful things.

SIX YEARCYCLES AGO....

Every corridor in Alpha Complex is color-coded. Entering a

corridor above your security clearance is treason. For lower-

clearance workers, the sector becomes a mineeld maze; if a

jackobot redecoration crew unexpectedly repaints a hallway, you

might walk into treachery.

For the last ve years, Jerome-Rs route to work in the morning

had required a 40-minute detour. Today, he strode out of his

quarters and stepped proudly across the orange threshold. The

corridor matched his crisp new jumpsuit. Jerome-O strolled down

the main thoroughfare, then ducked down a side corridor to anabandoned storeroom.

Celeste-Y was already waiting. In her freshly pressed yellow

uniform, she looked new-minted like him, though she had made

YELLOW some months back. In style as in most things, Celeste

always set the example; Jerome was always proud to follow it.

As he entered the storeroom, she applauded politely. I see the

technique worked.

It was easy! I went into the interview, and I spotted burns andsmall cuts on the lead interviewers hands. Jerome excitedly

held out his own hands by way of (unneeded) demonstration. I

put that together with those anti-bot riots last night, and guessed

he was one of those Frankenstein Destroyer bot-haters. Then

I just dropped a few comments about how I hated those damn

bots, and he rubber-stamped my promotion in two minutes at.

Secret society corruption is endemic at the lower clearances.

My models suggest more than 80% of all citizens are members

of one society or another; their exposure to society propaganda

and thought patterns makes them vulnerable to manipulation by

signals that mimic their existing beliefs. The remaining 20% are

loyal to The Computer; in fact, given they are in the minority,


32/39


we can consider loyalists to be another society and manipulate

them using the same techniques.

Jerome-O opened a celebratory can of genuine orange juiceat

ORANGE Clearance he was permitted a very limited amount of

real food, instead of chemically-avored yeast and soy FunFoods.

Celestes techniques worked. Citizens betrayed their

conspiratorial leanings from the smallest tells, and Jerome could

identify them. He buzzed with ambition. Together, they could go

further. Celeste had the intelligence and the theory. He hadwell,

he had Celeste.

Whos in charge of Alpha Complex? he asked her.

The Computer.

But the High Programmers run The Computer.

The best way to get promoted is to be a member of a secret

societyso the High Programmers owe their positions to the

societies.

So, are the societies in charge?

Celeste-Y considered. No. All of them have, at core, a

narrative of how they are oppressed and hunted. They eitherght the system, like the Humanists, or one of its aspects, like

the Frankenstein Destroyers; or they offer a temporary escape

from control, like the Romantics or Mystics. None of the known

conspiracies t.

But its not chaos, is it? We both know theres something out

there. The question is, can your techniques nd them?

I think so. Well need more information, more data. Allies.

His heart pounded. They were nally pushing back againstagainst Them. Well need our own conspiracy.

A null conspiracy, then. No ideology, no delusions. Just the

goal of amassing data and nding the truth.

Jerome thought, A conspiracy against the conspiracy. Bring it

on! If they nd us, theyll still terminate us for that.

Celeste sniffed. Statistically, they terminate everyone.

According to the little pop-up windows the glasses projected

across Jerome-Gs eld of viewhis Heads-Up Display, he

knew that termbehind this wall panel were a power junction

relay box, a chemical feed pipe, and a sewer access line. Another


33/39


window displayed the feed from the camera over his head.

Anything he looked at through the glasses was surrounded with

a halo of data. Holding up the gun hed borrowed from the dead

IntSec guard, he got another ood of pop-up boxes and overlaid

captionsan animated video of the guns user manual, a repair

guide, a note describing aftermarket adjustments to the guns

grip, and a big glowing ammo counter. Intoxicated with sheer

knowledge, Jerome stumbled down the corridor like a drugged

Mystic, picking out random objects and just staring.

That light tting? The glasses showed him the manufacturer,

install date and last servicing, and a list of its hidden microphones.

Another box popped up with a questiondid he want to listen

to highlights of recent recordings?

The stick of gum in Jeromes pocket showed him a manufacturer,

sales report, nutritional advisories, anduhha list of known

side effects. Oog.

A scrubot trundled down the corridor, followed (in Jeromes

sight) by a trail of glowing pop-up windows: operating manual,

cleaning route, default instructions, a guide to the Five Laws ofRobotics (Revised), and a dozen overlapping les. When Jerome

moved his head, data windows in the rear rushed forward, as if

the bot were surrounded by a lenticular hologram. When the bot

turned a corner and moved out of sight, the windows vanished.

When he held up his Personal Digital Companion, the glasses

showed Jerome the manual, then ashed a directory showing

all his saved les. He could access the data from his PDC just

by looking!People had data haloes too! Jerome-G grabbed a passing RED.

Youre Ronald-R-OSR-2! Assignment: hygiene technician!

You have 143 credits in your bank account! Youre assigned to

corpse cleanup duty in corridor 193! You only scored 43% on

your Tech Services aptitude exam and youre allergic to soy-

based products!

Uhhyes, friend

Youve got three disciplinary notes on your personal record for

illegal theft of personal effects, tardiness, and failure to dispose

of a corpse in an approved hygienic manner!

I I can explain the tardiness


34/39


Hey! Heres a note from Internal Securityyoure suspected

of being an informant for the Frankenstein Destroyers!

The technician yelped and bolted down the corridor.

Suddenly Jerome realized his behavior might appear suspicious.

He took a deep breath. He needed to nd out how to use these

glasses properly.

A look at the grey glasses case brought up a single pop-window:

BLINDERsBlended-Interface Data Expositors. Augmenting

Reality To Make A Better You. No user manual. Nothing else

useful. Expositorswhat an arcane word, like something

Celeste would have used. And shouldnt that make the acronym

blindors?

Could he hold the glasses up to the glasses? Nothe frame

wasnt that exible. On the bright side, hed proved they were

really rugged. He saw no mirror around here, but he had one in

his apartment. He started walking back home, overwhelmed by

the ood of data. Every citizen who passed brought a halo of

information: name, work assignment, personal nance details,

managerial assessments, security records, demerits, IntSecreport, all popping out and hovering around the citizens face.

Some people even had huge tags oating overhead: SMELLS

BAD. WORKS FOR EUNICE-V. UNDERCOVER INTSEC.

UNREGISTERED MUTANT.

He happened to glance at a vend

!!! BOUNCY BUBBLE BEVERAGE !!! ITS THE

MANDATORY THING !!! CONTAINS E493 E319 E922RHYOCHORDRAZINE-4 MACROCEPHALINE-9 !!!

NOW IN NEW PLUTONIUM FLAVOR !!!

obot, aaah! Jerome ailed as a storm of neon pop-ups blinded

him. B3, the most popular beverage in Alpha Complex, was,

according to the glasseshis eyes darted crazilycaustic,

poisonous, explosive when shaken, corrosive when heated,

razor-sharp when frozen, prone to animate when stored for more

than 20 days at room temperature, and contained engineered

long-chain molecules that harmlessly targeted the taste centers

of the customers brain and certainly werent mutagenic.

Averting his gaze from the vendobot, Jerome noticed a Tech

Services technician named Marty-R maintaining the machine.


35/39


A virtual tag above Martys head read MEDICATE FOR

SECURITY REASONS. Intrigued, Jerome reached out and

touched the tag.

Suddenly a keyboard appeared before him. It was astonishingly

realistic: other than the minor detail that it was floating

unsupported, the keyboard looked perfectly solid. He wondered

if theyd taken a hologram of a real keyboard to generate the

virtual model. Typing on the virtual keys took a little practice,

but he quickly got the hang of it. He typed TEST and hit Enter;

Martys oating tag was replaced with TEST. Success!

You there!

An IntSec guardOlive-Y-UIS-3, 4,200 credits in personal

account, assigned to CruncheeTym Event Security, scored 93%

accuracy on her last ring range test, merits for brutality and

interrogation, demerits for excessive unwarranted terminations,

medical record: addicted to asperquaint and visomorpain, subject

of last C-mail: FW: Fw: Top ten reasons to beat a suspect with a

rubber hosebroke from the crowd and leveled her laser pistol

at Jerome. Her brown hair was so short it was almost a crewcut,and her blue eyes stared with piercing intensity. The glasses

helpfully informed him the laser pistol was fully loaded and at

this range had a 84% chance to kill instantly.

Yes, ofcer?

That was twitchtalk, citizen! Admit it!

Jerome paled. Olive-Y must have misinterpreted his typing on

the virtual keyboard. Many conspirators in Alpha Complex used

a code of subtle twitches and hand gestures, called twitchtalk.There were dozens of different dialects. Jerome had studied many

of them, but new variants kept appearing and mutating to stay

ahead of Internal Security.

Twitchtalk, ofcer? I dont know what that is.

You were communicating with your treasonous conspirators.

Dont try to deny it. Her nger tightened on the trigger and her

teeth clenched.

I dont need to deny anything, because I didnt do anything.

By the way, Olive-Y, accusing a higher-clearance citizen of

treason without properly documented proof is an offense. Tell

me, Olive-Y, is this the sort of unprofessional, ill-considered,


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and ultimately unwarranted accusation that got you all those

demerits? Should we add spurious allegations to that list?

Uhh Olive backed off. Then what was that strange gesture

I saw you make?

This gesture? Jerome pulled up the virtual keyboard again and

spitefully added over Olives head the tag BAD ATTITUDE. She

stared in confusion as her suspect waggled his ngers in the air.

That gesture, yes.

Finger calisthenics. I have to do them regularly, or my ngers

cramp up when I spend all day typing personnel assessment

reportsoften highly critical personnel assessment reports that

get seen by inuential citizens. Understand?

Olive holstered her pistol and stalked off into the crowd.

Jerome felt a thrill of happiness purer and more real than any

drug high. These glasses were a window into the secret world

hed always known existed. It felt like hed lived in a atscreen

world all his life, and now reality had popped up into a third

dimension of secret revelation. And only he, Jerome, could see it.

No wonder those traitors were after the glasses! No wonderInternal Security had fought and died to get them back! No

wonder theyd be looking for them!

No wonder theyd terminate him if they found hed stolen

them!

Well, he thought, that was a short-lived thrill of happiness.

These glasses could expose the Great Conspiracy and free

Alpha Complex from its malevolent machinationsbut he had

to master the glasses before the conspirators tracked him down.Internal Security was probably already looking for a bespectacled

interpretive dancer. The BLINDERs clearly had some sort of

kinetic, gesture-driven interface; to gure it out, he needed

privacy. His quarters were nearby.

He reached up to remove the glasses, but then he spotted a

virtual object in the Multifunctional Public Space. A large green-

blue-violet cube oated in the center of the hall, slowly rotating.

Data pop-ups bubbled up from its green and blue facets, but the

violet face was blank; Jerome deduced his glasses must be BLUE

Clearance. The thought of higher-clearance glasses, with even

more power, rocketed through his brain.


37/39


From here he couldnt make out all the pop-ups, but a

few words were readable. One, above the green facet, said

CRUNCHEETYM LAUNCH EVENT PLAN. Beside it,

another seemingly unnished caption read NEW PRODUCT:

after the colon, the rest was blank. Interesting coincidence; hed

recently created a ctitious CruncheeTym product launch as a

terrorist target.

The blue facet rotated into view, and the pop-up read BOMB

THREAT. Well, that explained why the Multifunctional Public

Space was crawling with IntSec sniffers. The CruncheeTym

product launch, whatever it was, must be a terrorist target

Deja vu is illegal in Alpha Complex. Experiencing deja vu is

taken as proof you are a precognitive mutant, and mutants are

genetic traitors. Jerome had always prided himself on being

genetically pure and had never seen any mutant signs in his own

DNA, but this deja vu was like a simultaneous double-punch to

the brain and the groin.

Last week at Threat Obfuscation hed invented the CruncheeTym

event and the bomb threat in order to obfuscate a suspectedanarchist cell. Neither the product launch nor the bomb were

real. Theyd never been real. Hed made it all up!

Yet there they were, on the oating cube right in front of him.

Jerome pulled off the glasses, and reality snapped back to

normal. No one had haloes of their innermost secrets, and no

multicolored cube raised perplexing mysteries. Everything was

once again concealed. He stuck the glasses back in their case. It

was all too much; he needed time to think.He stumbled through the crowd to the blissful solitude of his

quarters. Distantly he knew he should get back at the ofce, but

even Peter would accept my confession booth got blown up with

me inside it as an excuse for a long lunch break.

Lunch. Kneecaps.

The doorbell rang.

Youve just read Chapters 1-4 (about the rst one-sixth) of the

PARANOIA novel Reality Optional by Gareth Hanrahan. In

the full-length ebookavailable for download where you bought

this bookJerome-G faces a sequence of threats from Free


38/39


Enterprise goons, his teammates in the Troubleshooters, visits

to the Underplex, and the CruncheeTym Snack Revelation. While

he uses the Augmented Reality glasses to understand why IntSec

and the VIOLET executive are interested in him, the makers of

those glasses are hunting him.

Why are the imagined threats Jerome invented for Threat

Obfuscation becoming real?

Who built the BLINDERs glasses, and for what purpose?

Whathappened to Celeste-B, and where is she now?

The answers are all here:

Reality Optional

by Gareth Hanrahan

ultravioletbooks.com

And look for the anthology PARANOIA A1 The Computer is

Your Friend, which includes Gareth Hanrahans prequel story

to Reality Optional, Data Exhaust.


39/39

Light-hearted stories of backstabbing, treachery, and Bouncy

Bubble Beverage. Based on the bestselling roleplaying game

of fear and ignorance in a darkly satirical future, official

PARANOIA novels are now available as ebooks from Ultraviolet

Booksand theyre even for your security clearance.

If you prefer novels about Napoleons invasion of Russia and

the nature of power, history, and historiographywell, have you

tried War and Peace? Thats a very nice book. But if you like

Philip K. Dick and think The Ofce needs more reghts (and

really, who doesnt?), your friend The Computer requires you

to enjoy PARANOIA.

PARANOIA NOVELS ARE FUN. OTHER NOVELS

ARE NOT FUN. READ PARANOIA.

The Computer is Your Friend, an introductory anthology

Reality Optional by Gareth Hanrahan

Traitor Hangoutby WJ MacGufn

The Troubleshooter Rules trilogy by Allen Varney

Book 1: Stay Alert

Book 2: Trust No One (available spring 2012)

Book 3: Keep Your Laser Handy (available summer

2012)

Download PARANOIA ebooks from the leading ebook sites,

or visit us at ultravioletbooks.com.

paranoia s1 "reality optional" - free preview

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