Chapter 1: Dot Hack Stock (Excerpt)
“Not here. Hide the data till we are off the street. This way,” Toapfyl hurriedly motioned to the data messenger in the blue military coat, dark cargo pants and combat boots who followed him off the sidewalk and down another alley. He was wearing the typical garb for a data messenger which made Toapfyl comfortable when he met the stranger in the alley leaning against the wall, easily identifiable.
Toapfyl, a Level 3 hacker, was wearing maroon jeans and a zippered black hoodie pulled over his ebony half shaved head, exposing a slap of dirty brown dreadlocks gathered in a ponytail at his forehead hiding his right eye.
Toapfyl pushed in a dilapidated door at the end of the alley, grime from the street creating a dusty haze in the air leaving a putrid stink. They entered a staircase. There was no light as they descended. Toapfyl sparked up his aegis to his hand, the manifestation of his psychic power, and lit a path to the basement.
He pushed in the door onto a dimly lit room and revealed Jester, the leader of the Jester hacker guild sitting in a rickety folding chair in the center of the empty room smoking a cigarette from a long black holder. A soft haze filtered over him from a light fixture dangling precariously from ceiling wires, the glass cover filled with dead moths that had happened their way inside and lived out their final days circling the artificial sun. The wan flickering light cast shadows that danced at the corners, the bulb swinging back and forth, moved by the basement door opening.
Legs crossed, Jester was wearing black patent leather platform boots, skintight black denim jeans, and a slick dark vinyl blouse with embroidered crimson roses, He sported an elaborate olive short coat with a high collar and dark cuffs and epaulets. A monocle optical sensor over his right eye, he was wearing a green top hat with a scarlet rose perched at the brim. His pink straight, shoulder length hair shined in the light.
He made an irritated gesture with his hand. “Don’t keep me waiting. Where is it?” Jester took a long drag from the cigarette and blew out a puff of smoke. He waved as Toapfyl closed the door.
“Not until I get paid.” The shocked data messenger prompted pulling out a red etched credit sized data card shaking it.
“Do the needful,” ordered Jester raising an eyebrow. He turned his back to them as he continued to smoke his cigarette taking a long drag.
Toapfyl pulled a platinum credit card out of his back pocket. The data messenger pulled his. They locked the two cards at the long end, pins embedded in the technology. Toapfyl typed out the amount of 55,000 credits on the virtual keyboard appearing on the face of his card. The cards chimed signaling the encryption key matched and the credits transferred from Toapfyl’s account.
The data messenger released his card and ran it through a handheld confirming the amount. He nodded stashing the handheld in his chest pocket.
“Done,” responded Toapfyl.
Jester turned back around not witnessing the exchange purposefully and stuck out his hand with his black lacquered fingernails in the knitted fingerless gloves. The stitching was coming apart at the seams on the thumb and index finger, the gloves covered in little white pills. Where everything about Jester’s appearance was immaculate, the gloves gave away an underlying confusion or sloppy disregard for his perfect veneer.
Jester was one of the hacker guild leaders who almost never showed his face in public. It was well known that Jester did not make meetings with data messengers or low level hackers, like a Level 3. He couldn’t be bothered with them. The fact that the data messenger insisted, and that Toapfyl made it happen, kept the data messenger on guard. He placed the red card in Jester’s palm and turned to leave.
Toapfyl jerked raising a gun to the data messenger’s temple. He touched skin. “No one leaves until the data is confirmed.”
Rom, the teenage Level 9 hacker, emerged from the shadows behind Jester. Eyebrow raised, he was annoyed with Toapfyl. Rom pulled a handheld out of his tan trench coat as he came into the dim light. His dull blonde unkempt hair gleamed. He took the data card from Jester and swiped it in the port on the handheld reading the file as the system ran the security check. He typed on the deck triggering an encryption key prompt as the handheld’s computerized female voice spoke the request.
“The data is encrypted? Why didn’t you mention that?” questioned Toapfyl suspicious. He pushed the gun barrel closer taking a step in and made the data messenger move his head back.
“No problem,” interrupted Rom. “Most data messengers are Packrat Runners smuggling data from the City into the Echelons. It should take a Packrat decrypt key. I have access to the Packrats’ archive of one-time, pre-shared obscure keys. What I need for this, right?”
“That is why I wanted Jester at the meet. Toapfyl, all data messengers use encryption. If you don’t know that, you are an idiot. No self-respecting hacker attached to Jester would even ask the question you did just now. Only a Level 9 can penetrate. Jester would know a Level 9. Rom is one of the best in the business,” the data messenger revealed his disgust with Toapfyl and yanked the gun out of his hand pointing it back at the hacker.
Toapfyl blanched confused how he had been disarmed and lowered his eyebrows at the disrespect. Rom shot him an angry glare silencing him.
Jester smirked giving Rom permission to engage and waved the data messenger off. The messenger lowered the gun handing it back to Toapfyl.
“You asked me here which is risky. You didn’t know if I, Jester, the leader of the Jester hacker guild would come. There are consequences for making me do things I don’t want to. I have the Black Holes take you out and you cease to breathe. I respect your boldness. I, too, am a Level 9 hacker, but this particular job is beneath me. Rom can handle it.”
Jester slapped his boots on the floor arousing a cloud of dust making a point. He hesitated for a moment tugging on a lock of his pink hair and twirling it around his finger. He continued twirling for a few seconds.
“Messenger! I respect your data. You will be right with me.”
Rom cringed at Jester’s response, not ready for it. He blinked twice hard going back to the handheld.
Jester had a reputation of being insane. Few had seen him talking to himself wandering the streets at night. Some afternoons he paraded around in his elaborate gothic aristocrat outfits. Rom worried Jester could snap at any time. Rom watched Jester closely out of the corner of his eye making sure this was not one of those times.
Jester tipped his hat and winked at the data messenger then sneered at Toapfyl putting him in his place.
“It’s genuine. No trace back. Data is clean,” Rom impressed handing the handheld to Jester after decrypting the file.
“You can go. Don’t tell anyone you saw me. You squeal, I take your head off!” warned Jester with a crazed wink pointing the cigarette.
Toapfyl opened the basement door and motioned the data messenger out accompanying him up the stairs leaving Jester in the room with Rom.
****
“So, tell me?” inquired Jester chuckling, giddy with excitement.
Rom sat down in the chair as Jester leaned against the wall and handed back the handheld.
Rom interrogated the handheld. “They are about to repeal a critical stock market regulatory legislation. The majority party pushed it through at the last minute defying the Emperor who insisted he would veto. The lobbyists tied the Emperor’s hands. They are voting on the proposal today. If we get ahead of the vote we can influence the market.” He scrolled the screen as Toapfyl came back in the room.
“Your little tip worked,” smirked Jester tapping his right foot on the floor with his arms crossed and beamed at Toapfyl.
“My script is ready. I sent the code to Rom earlier,” said Toapfyl.
“I have the file. I optimized the code. It was a little script kiddie, pieced together. I cleaned it up and compiled it to execute faster. Put my Level 9 on it,” mocked Rom.
Toapfyl sneered trying to hide his irritation. “I can tank the markets on command and the investors will dump SenseNet stock after I run up iodine pills. Give the word.”
“Get it done!” ordered Jester taking a drag off the cigarette and ashing gracefully with a tap. He glared at Toapfyl, bared his teeth and smirked a warning. He saluted playfully, then disappeared teleporting away.
****
Toapfyl looked at Rom with a confused frown.
“Don’t look at me. Jester is the leader of the hacker guild. You do what he says. I am just the messenger,” responded Rom getting up from the chair.
“Will start once I get back to my squat right around the corner.”
“You live near here? This is a dump,” mocked Rom.
“Better than the Shizuoko ghetto or The Maze with its radiation,” answered Toapfyl.
“Whatever works. No trace back. You are wired. I got my hands so far up in your system you can’t blink without me knowing. Don’t screw up!” barked Rom pulling the cord on the light overhead and bathing the room in darkness. He vanished teleporting away.
“So little faith,” scowled Toapfyl concealing the gun in his pocket. He opened the basement door ascending the stairs back into the early morning dark.
