And it goes well, we also give to science fiction ...
ESCAPE FROM GOTHAM CITY
Valerio Evangelisti
The gargantuan size of the Vortex, the giant space station that ran for the UN all the satellite communications networks, revolved lazy about herself as she makes yet another circumnavigation of the earth . Inside, the severity Artificial rendered imperceptible motions of the endless steel castle floating in space. Yet Mr. Omori, chief of police of Tokyo, seemed to feel a little dizzy, as he followed a team of technicians in the corridor that linked the body of the station within one of the most remote.
"We are confident that the ground is stable?" asked worried, in his English grotesque in which each vowel tended to resemble an "a".
Roubert, the chief engineer, turned with a gleam in his eyes ironically. "Of course. If you feel a little dizzy, and only because, in this arm gravity is lower. The reason is obvious: external modules in the rotation is slower than in central body. "
" Yeah. I should have thought, "murmured Omori, smiling contrite. He used to consider any error or omission, as venial as a serious fault. In those cases, the usual impassive in her face was bruised by an embarrassed smile, as much larger strong was uncomfortable. They were the only circumstances in which he smiled.
herself together very soon. The hall was finished, and they were going down a spiral staircase that seemed endless, including luminescent storied walls of printed circuit boards. Roubert and his four jumped technical from step to step with ease, demonstrating familiarity with that environment. Omori, however, tried to rest the foot with caution; but soon was forced to accelerate the descent, not to lose contact with their classmates. Finally
Roubert and the other rested on a spacious hall, and waited for the Japanese to reach them. The engineer made a circular gesture, indicating the circuit and the lights around them. "Here, Mr. Omori, his country's all here."
The policeman carefully hid his astonishment. "All of Japan?" he asked in a neutral tone.
"In a way, yes. Here are stored the data of all the people in possession of identity cards. What do you call her man?"
"Hajime Murakami. But I do not know whether it has an identity card."
"Let's see."
Roubert approached a small screen embedded in the wall, surmounted by the words "BIOMUSE. As a side hung a headset. The detached from the hook and lime on the ears. The screen is automatically turned on, suffocated with a sizzle.
Roubert put her index finger and thumb to the root of the nose, then closed his eyes, as if thinking hard. When he opened them, a long row of names all the same, followed by a series of data was flowing on the screen. He shook his head. "As there are hundreds Hajime Murakami. Can you tell me more? I just an adjective, or a noun that has a bearing on the life of the person looking."
"Think of the word subversive ... No, wait. Think Chukaku-Ha. It 's the name the terrorist group that owns Murakami. "
" The year of reference? "
" The present. The 2068. "
The engineer was concentrated again by pressing the headset over his ears.
They spent a few seconds, then appeared on the screen the movie an event. A phalanx of young, probably students, advanced, carrying flags hoisted on long bamboo poles . miner's football helmet, covered with writing. At one point, the procession stopped. The first row of the demonstrators down the bamboo. The shot widened to encompass a group of men in uniform seen from the back. The straps cross on their steel blades supporting bodices. They had very large helmets, which covering their neck. If it were not for the visor made of Plexiglas, those cops would have mistaken for combatants of World War Prussians.
"They look like samurai," murmured one of the technicians.
"The trouble is that others appear to be samurai." Omori touched with the index screen. "You see those bamboo? Cut on the bias, are sharp as knives. For this the agents are retreating, while the procession is on." Perhaps you would
dwelt in other explanations, but in the meantime the picture had changed. Now you could see a room with walls of reddish brick, lit by cold neon lights. A policeman in uniform routine, sitting behind a desk, was taking the fingerprints of a young man bent in front of him, dressed as a prisoner. Two other policemen were following the operation a few feet away.
"Behold, here is that our images are deformed!" Omori said, suddenly excited. "When, shortly, the prisoner will turn around, we can not see his face!"
Roubert shrugged. "A common fault of transmission. You're all set. Registration is intact."
on the screen, the officer left the hands of the young man who stood up. Then he turned slowly. From the lips of Roubert and his men came out amazed exclamation. The prisoner had the same face of Batman. Pointed ears, black mask, triangular holes for eyes, square jaw. Batman himself, drawn with a few brush strokes and bright colored. But the text fits perfectly to the body.
"There is a lack of transmission" Omori said sadly.
"Every time I try to see Murakami, get that picture ridiculous. Someone has tampered with the Vortex."
"But it is not possible!" Roubert said. Pressed strongly around the skull cap. "There will be other frames, no? The entrance to the cell, the meeting with fellow arm ... Now I concentrate better. Hajime Murakami. Hajime Murakami. ... Hajime Murakami"
other images did not appear on the screen. Appeared instead of a written, all in capital letters: "Hajime MURAKAMI, BELONGING TO CHUKAKU-HA. Escaped from prison March 18, 2068. FALSE CERTIFICATE OF GOOD CONDUCT conveyed by the network. FALSE PERMISSION. CURRENTLY disappeared. "
Roubert tore the headphones from her head and shrugged." I just do not understand. "False statement", "false permit." The network must have been manipulated, but I do not understand. The access is strictly controlled, all the earth. It 's a very serious thing. "
One of the technicians, a lanky boy with blond hair and thin, snorted and shrugged." It's not so bad. The Adventurer is the only one in all of Japan. Indeed, as far as I know, all over the world. Sooner or later the recapture. "
Omori glared at him. "She did not understand the question, young man. The essence of a state are its prisons. That 's where they are sanctioned illegal conduct, and that those who govern you master of the lives of others. Do you understand?"
"Not really."
"Government wants to say always become master of the lives of others, with their consent or not. When you can not just have the jail. That is the complete domination on the existence of those who have transgressed the rules. Good governments have good prisons, because they have strict rules, that good laws. Now I think she understands me. "
Roubert, without losing sight of the screen, he waved his hand. "It is I who do not understand. Okay, here someone has taken control of a piece of the network. But what does it matter? They managed to escape to only one of them. "
Omori sighed." Maybe I have not explained well. There is around an individual who has already disobeyed twice: first when he violated the law giving itself to subversive activities, the second when it is removed from the constraints prison. The freedom of man is in itself an anomaly. What's more, he and his friends know manipulate our control systems. If we do not take, the area removed from our command will grow like wildfire. "
Roubert looked at the floor." What must we do? "Murmured humiliated.
" You tell me. "The tone of quiet Omori hours a leaked some irritation. "There will be some kind of security system, which allows you to isolate the corrupted data."
It took a few seconds before the engineer mournful mutter: "No, not there. The network is too complicated. It 's impossible to control all the joints. The only safe filters are those that govern access."
"But there must be a virus, an apparatus for detecting parasitic programs!"
"Unfortunately not. I repeat, only access is controllable." This time
Omori could not help a snort of indignation away.
"will not tell me there is not a safety system! I mean a human guard!"
's face Roubert suddenly brightened.
"Oh, yes there is! The Webmaster! I had forgotten! You know, everything is so automatic that ..."
"The contacts, then!" Japanese shouted, pointing to the headset. "He understands that every minute can mean an expansion of the out of control? And it is those who are from March to work! Now we are in May!"
For fast, Roubert kicking the headset to the contrary. The straightened up with an awkward gesture, then narrowed his eyes. Almost immediately on the screen flashes "WEBMASTER" superimposed on a human face. The Omori
face of pessimistic temperament, after all expected: a prominent jaw, mask with triangular holes for the eyes, ears and tip similar to a cat.
"Good morning, gentlemen," Batman said, curling his lips into a sly smile. "Here's an update on citizens who are now freed from the domination of Gotham City."
It gave the place a fast sequence of identity cards. Only that each card was blank, and the photo that accompanied it was the man bat. Then returned to the original Batman. "I have not counted, but several thousand. And do you know lovely? Is just the beginning ... As we say in French?"
"Ce n'est qu'un début" said Roubert mechanically.
The grotesque face on the screen widened his smile. "Exactly. Ce n'est qu'un début ... "
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