Clashing Obsessions

Chapter 1 - Kalix

The window jams halfway up, caught once again on that one loose bolt that I still haven't gotten around to fixing. Just like last time, I push the bolt back into place and shove the window upward, creating an opening just big enough to crawl through. Halfway through the window, the message popping up on my eyeview nearly makes me fall from my precarious position on the ledge. A notification from U5_Delta, my latest job.

U5_Delta: xCodebreaker01, are you close? I thought we were meeting at midnight.

I climb the rest of the way through the window and drop down from the ledge to the ground, sending off a reply as I do it.

xCodebreaker01: Sorry, U5. Minor delays. I'll be there in 10.

The night air is cold as I walk down the street toward the café, datachip in hand. The café isn't far, but I walk quickly, wanting to get there as soon as I can. I normally like to arrive before my clients. It feels like that way I have more control. Being late is making me nervous.

Luckily, it only takes five and a half minutes to walk from my house to Café Suki. U5_Delta — or whatever his real name is — is already sitting at the booth in the back corner. I put my mask on and stride over, keeping my walk confident. In control.

U5, on the other hand, looks anxious. He glances around the room three times as I walk over, while fidgeting with something in his hands.

"Are you..." he starts to ask, nervously. He's not even wearing a mask. It's an amateur choice — I took note of two security cameras in range on my way in. Still, I shift my gaze across my eyeview, dismissing the facial rec search my mental software is trying to run automatically. I don't want to know who he is.

"Yes." I say in monotone. He looks surprised, which itself is not actually that surprising. A 16-year-old girl is not exactly most peoples' expectation of a globally known, expert computer hacker.

He slides the object he was holding — a payment card — across the table.

"200 credits. Uh, you can check— if you want—"

Taking the collection device out of my pocket in one hand and the card in the other, I tap them quickly, as I've done many times before, and the machine beeps in confirmation. It projects a small hologram reading 200 credits in its usual simple font. Nodding to U5, I place the d-chip on the table.

"Just mag-snap it to the phone or computer, turn it on, double-tap the chip." I instruct him. "It'll unlock it within two seconds. Unplug it when you're done, the program will automatically delete itself. Virtually untraceable."

He nods and starts to leave, turning back after a second to say,

"Uh, thank you," and walks out.

This has been my weekly routine for two years: spending the week creating custom computer programs, viruses and master-keys for clients who pay me to help them hack, well, a whole variety of things, then sneaking out of the house on Friday nights to deliver what they need on a d-chip. The only thing that changes is the meeting spot — I pick a new one every month so the cops can't track me. I have online clients, too, of course. Sending programs through a dark web chat site allows me to work internationally. It's the perfect system; I get paid, my clients get their— well, whatever it is they want, and most importantly, it cures my incessant boredom. And, of course, the transactions are completely anonymous, for both my protection and the client's. They know me only as xCodebreaker01, a username on a screen. I know them only as a username, often a temporary one, and the details of what they need me to make for them. I don't even ask what they're using it for.

A quick glance at the top left corner of my eyeview reveals the time: 00:14. I might as well head back—

"Attention!" The door flies open, and a group of five police officers march in. "Everyone, remain calm," one says, as the others split up to search the café. "We have reason to believe that a cyber criminal has just committed illegal acts on these premises. Please stay seated and do not leave until you have been permitted to do so by myself or another officer."