Read Online Infoquake by David Louis Edelman - Free Book Online

ratings," Natch was saying
from around the corner. "It's good for morale, it's good for business.
But I don't care if we're number one on Primo's or number one thousand, as long as we deliver the highest quality programming. If I can
look back at the end of the day and say we've done the best job we can
do, then I can sleep at night." Yes, Natch had definitely modified his
voice; Jara recognized the laid-back cadences of SmoothTalker 139.
    "But the Patel Brothers managed to pull back ahead of you in only
forty-seven minutes," said Sor. "Number one for less than an hour!
Come on, Natch, tell me that doesn't rankle you."
    Natch laughed the free and easy laugh that only the rich or the
deranged possessed. "I give Frederic and Petrucio Patel a lot of credit.
They didn't waste any time launching a counter-offensive. It's no
wonder they've been number one so long. But I think we've proven our
point: the Patel Brothers' days of dominating the Primo's ratings are
over. From now on, they'll have to watch their backs."
    Jara had heard enough. Obviously, Natch had no plans to include
her in the conversation. She stalked towards the living room, her face
a study in carefully controlled rage-and then stopped.
    Perfection taint you! she screamed silently at her boss. The fiefcorp master had cordoned off the living room, blocking access as only the
apartment owner could. It was an inhuman feeling, this sensation of
just stopping, the inability to even make an effort to transgress. The
designers of the multi network strove so hard to provide complete
verisimilitude, and yet their method of access control utterly short-circuited human instincts.

    "So what's next for the Natch Personal Programming Fiefcorp?"
Sen Sivv Sor was asking.
    Natch's grin was practically audible. "Kick the Patel Brothers out
on their asses, of course." His imaginary audience let out a spirited
cheer.
    Jara gritted her teeth and fired off a terse ConfidentialWhisper.
"This interview is over," she announced, "unless you want me to start
bombarding him with all the evidence I've found about your little
scheme."
    There was a pause in the conversation. Jara could hear the rustling
of clothing, a man arising from his chair. "I'm afraid I'm going to have
to call it a day, Mr. Sor," said Natch. "Duty beckons. I've got a fiefcorp
to run."
    "Sure, sure!"
    The analyst suddenly found the impenetrable barrier lifted, and
swooped around the corner just in time to see Sor give Natch a final
clap on the back. The drudge looked exactly like his pictures on the
Data Sea; his craggy face, white mop of hair and distinctive birthmark
would be recognizable anywhere. A second later, he disappeared. Off
to rebroadcast the interview and play the bit part Natch had assigned
him in the drama of his life.
    Natch displayed no sign of the fatigue a normal human being
would feel after four days without sleep. He looked alive, focused,
handsome. Jara felt the familiar twinge of lust stabbing through her
abdomen and sneered it down.
    And then, in the space between one breath and the next, Natch's demeanor completely shifted. A mask was silently discarded. Now his
eyes held nothing but sullenness, and the once-over he gave her spoke
more of dismissal than command. Natch didn't even offer his apprentice a chair to sit in, but instead marched straight into his office. Jara
stormed after him, trembling, only to find him standing at his workbench in the midst of a MindSpace bubble. The donut-shaped code of
NiteFocus 48-or NiteFocus 49, she supposed-surrounded him like
a life preserver.

    "What evidence?" grunted Natch.
    Jara put her hands on her hips and mustered her best accusatory
stance. "Evidence of what you did."
    "And what exactly did I do?"
    "You know exactly what you did, you son-of-a-bitch! You launched
that fake black code attack yourself."
    If the analyst expected an angry outburst from her master, she was
disappointed. She would have even been