SOTF: Cyber: Teaser #2 — "Initiative Earth"

#1

01/01/2019
PRIVATE SERVER
181.91.███.██

Everything considered, there were better places to do business than the moon.

In the wake of the so-called "Cyber Revolution," countless servers that sought to recreate and imitate exotic locales had materialized, growing more expansive in their numbers by the day, a horde. Their planet's moon—with its conquest by humanity being one of the species' proudest endeavors—naturally received a frankly unhealthy amount of attention. Its proliferation as a typifying location was so widespread that the phrase "to take a wrong step and end up on the moon" was a part of the lexicon.

███ █████, the man of the moment, had set foot on at least three dozen such moons. If he were to rank them all in a list, he would rate this one around the middle: not too high, but not too low. It was, all said, mediocre. A mite better than the one present in Cyber Reality's crypto-sphere, but that said little—their projects were laughable. Instead of the typical lack of care, he attributed this to a lack of need. After all, given the circumstances, this server would get wiped from existence soon.

After letting his view wander for a few seconds longer, his green eyes flitting from crater to crater like an astronaut taking their first steps on the planet to plant their flag, █████ looked up to the cosmos above—to their home planet, Earth. It hung lifelessly in the skybox, its content flattened to a one-dimensional texture, a squashed blue and green marble. Once, perhaps, it would have felt spectacular. Instead, he felt nothing. Another experience spoiled by repetition—its abnormality becoming normality.

His musings were interrupted by a mannerly voice from across the space.

"Good evening, Mr. █████," the voice said. "It is good to see you on time."

For a moment, █████ ignored the digital ghost. Then, he turned around.

Where only a few minutes before had been nothing but an empty, barren gray plateau composed of rocks and dust now stood an unassuming office desk, filled with several stacks of paper and accompanied by two seats on opposite sides of the desk that faced one another. One of the two chairs was empty. On the other chair was seated George Washington. Not the United States' first president, but with enough gravitas to match that status. Rather, an Avatar modeled on his well-known likeness.

To be more specific, this Avatar of George Washington stood among the two hundred common-license Avatars pre-installed into every Cyber Reality Device. These Avatars were helpful and commonplace in the early days of the technology—when the creation of an Avatar was an unruly operation that required specialized knowledge—but nowadays, their primary use case was defined by those users who wanted to remain anonymous. Who, for one reason or another, had something to hide.

This dominating genericness contrasted ███ █████'s Avatar, modeled on his Real World appearance. His short, dark brown hair, combed backward, green eyes, round nose, wide mouth, and sharp chin all sat there, recreated from lines of code and vector models—even the dark rings of his eyes were present. The invitation—if one could even call it that—made no bones about the fact that they—whoever they were—knew who he was; for better or for worse, there was nothing left for him to conceal.

"Being on time appeared to be my only option," █████ replied grimly, a sardonic resignation in his voice. The short man gingerly approached the empty chair, his eyes boring into the default model poised on the other side of the desk from him. "Your arguments have been more than convincing in that regard," he went on, a bitter, acidic edge coloring his words. Then, hunching his body forward, he pulled the seat out from the desk, rolling it on its wheels towards him, and placed himself down in it.

"My apologies for any perceived discourtesy," Washington commented flatly, though nothing in his garbled voice sounded apologetic. "I hope you know—for your own sake—that we needed the certainty. Be assured that the evidence we collected of your past deeds," he emphasized, reminding █████ exactly why he was here, "will never see the light of day. That is, unless you give us a reason." A sudden chill ran down █████'s spine. The threat was more than explicit to him. It warranted no further analysis.

As the Avatar in front of him spoke, █████ noted, it was composed—too much so. It had a poker face that would make professionals turn their tails and run. Furthermore, there was a pattern about it—how only its mouth moved as it spoke, not the area around it—that he remembered, a programmer himself: his conversation partner's Avatar had no facial expressions. He had dealt with such things before—regularly, even; robot-like Avatars weren't rare—but still, the inhumanity of it all unnerved him.

"I don't plan on it. That said, I would like to know what we're talking about before I agree to anything," █████ responded, a hesitant tinge in how he spoke; he could feel the anxiety rising like bile in his throat, that classic building of the tension through his body, constricting, like a noose around his neck. He leaned forward in his seat, propping his right arm forward on the desk in a bent triangle, a habit that remained from his days in college. "The message you sent talked about a job. Tell me more about it."

"Indeed," the response was instant. The Avatar nodded its head. "I am the founder of an organization with goals unbound by morals or legality. That said, it stands to reason that I cannot operate openly in my true name. After calculating the odds, I have deemed you—and you alone—to be the best possible candidate for the second-in-command for my present undertaking. Your assignment will be to assemble a team and lead the operations I assign to you to their ultimate success."

The Avatar made no bones about the scheme's nature: it was an illegal operation, plain and simple. The bluntness in how his potential future boss came to the point straightaway caught █████ off-guard. This guy—whoever he was—had some guts. He didn't let the surprise show on his face; neither did he show the growing interest he felt as this continued. "Sounds about right," he muttered, then raised. "Except for the big question of what these supposed operations of yours would entail."

Then, he became braver. "I mean, unbound by morals or legality is a fancy way to call yourself a criminal."

Washington's eyebrow twitched. Maybe the facial expressions were functioning after all—unlucky guess.

After a pause, Washington spoke again, still civil. "That much I will not deny. What we are doing—what we are about to do—will, without doubt, be condemned by all those not on our side. But there is a reason we have to do it: because, when the chips are down, no one else will." The default Avatar waved its hand as if to declare this topic of conversation over. Then, it grabbed one of the papers on the desk and gently slid it in front of █████. "Please, have a read. These should give a hint about my intentions."

With a suspicious side-eye to the individual across the desk from him, █████ cautiously took the papers into his hands, his distrustful green eyes scanning them slowly but deliberately, computer-like, as he processed them. Line after line, he read, and line after line, his eyes widened in shock until his pupils were as big as full moons. Once finished, he placed the papers on his lap with a tremble in his hand and gawked at Washington, still obviously flabbergasted by what he had just read.

"This is..." he paused, "...one hell of a story you're trying to tell me here."

"It doesn't matter to me if you believe it now," the President said, its generic face unmovingly stoic—or, perhaps, simply unimpressed with what it was seeing and hearing. For a moment, it turned away towards the fake Earth in the skybox and stared at it, glints of green and blue reflecting in the Avatar's black, coal-like eyes. "At a later date—sometime in the future—you shall, hopefully, be able to see more than one live demonstration. If you agree to work with my organization, that is."

A joyless laugh was born and died in █████'s throat. "Do I even have a choice in the matter?"

"No," Washington said bluntly, voice cold and cruel like an executioner's ax. Its cold black eyes drilled into █████ like buckshot lead, and he felt another—harsher—chill run down his spine, the nerves spiking up in his legs like static electricity. They were falling asleep; the rest of him felt all too awake. "Though I will have you know that if I believed you would willingly deny our offer of cooperation, I would not have bothered to contact you in the first place. Consider it an offer too good to refuse."

"Figures..." █████ muttered, like an oath under his breath. He raised the papers from his lap, then unceremoniously dropped them onto the desk. "...then, I'll ask you again: what exactly is the operation? If we assume that this—" he paused, gesturing to his neck "—supposed kill-switch of yours even works, then you could assassinate anyone—anyone at all—as long as they're using a CRD. And that's, what, almost everyone? But, for one single murder, you wouldn't need me. So, tell me: what gives?"

Washington did not answer. Instead, he took the papers that █████ had so carelessly thrown around, scooped them into his hands, and neatly shuffled them into their original prescribed places and positions. It was then, and only then—after all that pointless busywork concluded—that the Avatar deigned to answer █████'s question. "Judging the intelligence I have gathered, Mr. █████, you are knowledgeable regarding the subject of Japanese literature, no? Of all people, you should know," he chided.

█████ was silent. He needed to think. For a couple of seconds, the man pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes in concentration. Nothing in this meeting—not the location or the Avatar chosen—pertained to or connected to Japanese literature directly. The correlation had to be something more implicit. Something deeper. His eyes darted to the neat stacks of paper on the desk, searching for answers, tracing the edges. After a few moments, he recalled a book he read once in middle school.

"...Battle Royale."

For the first time since the two had met, Washington showed the slightest hints of a smile.

"A class from our nation, then, I assume?" █████ asked, knowing the answer already.

"Exactly." Washington gave █████ a slow, affirmative nod before his explication. His words were stern and direct, with a cold undertone, but not harsh. It was as if he was a teacher giving a presentation to a class. "Furthermore, we will select students from a high school—seniors, to be specific—instead of ones from a middle school. Oh, and I want the game—the entire game, if possible—to be broadcast live and without interruptions. I intend for the whole world to watch and to learn."

He continued. "For that to happen, you will recruit a team. You will need them. Someone to build the arena and implement the weapons, programmers to keep the game running, hackers to direct the attack, someone to provide the location and hardware, and some other jobs. To be exact, here is the list in its entirety." With that last line, Washington took the second stack of papers and presented them to █████. █████, in turn, accepted them and, without delay, began to flip through them.

The first page was a list of positions and roles in the organization, most of which came accompanied by the names of three or four potential candidates. There was a black-hat hacker, a disgruntled accountant, hell, even a former professional esports player. "Quite the rogue's gallery," he murmured to himself. Most of the remaining pages were intelligence on the candidates. █████'s page was there. The final few contained information on several schools. Even choosing the target fell on him.

"So, let me get this clear," █████ asked. "I do all this, and you provide the money—and do nothing else?"

Washington gave a curt nod. "In the event of your failure, any trace of my existence will cease to exist."

"So," █████ went on, his left eyebrow raised in a calculated skepticism, "that makes me the fall guy."

"Just ensure that the operation is successful," Washington replied. "Then, you will have no need to worry."

█████ took a quick breath, then let out another laugh. "Okay, that's fine. I wasn't planning to fail, anyway."

Of course, this wasn't the end of it. █████ wasn't so gullible as to go along with this—whatever this was—blindly. As soon as this conversation ended, he intended to uncover more about his mysterious new employer. No, not just intended—vowed to himself, a promise he wouldn't break. On his own, whatever it took, however long it took. He would have his answers, one way or another, even if he had to scrape them out of the cold dirt using his bleeding fingernails as a shovel. He smiled at that.

"Then, I suppose that ends our little briefing," Washington declared, a finality in his voice. After that—and for the first time since █████ had arrived—the Avatar bent its knees and stood up. A second later, it extended its arm towards him, offering █████ a handshake. █████ did likewise, standing up from his chair on the other side of the desk, and quickly returned the unexpectedly cordial gesture. The Avatar's hand was firm like steel and cold as ice—like he was shaking hands with a machine.

"It is my pleasure," Washington said, "to welcome you, Mr. █████, to Initiative Earth."

"Likewise, I am looking forward to working with you," he fibbed, "Mr. Washington."

"Washington?" The other man seemed almost surprised. "Oh, yes," a nod, "now that you mention it..."

"...I haven't thought about our intended codenames yet. Do you happen to have any suggestions?"

[KENNEDY] smirked.

"I believe that I do."

Codename: [KENNEDY]
Real Name: ███ █████
Role: Second-in-Command
Gender: Male
Age: 31

Appearance: [KENNEDY] is a young adult male of European descent. He is relatively short for a man, at the height of 5'4", and a little underweight at only 113 pounds. He has a slim build. His posture is not good, and he often bends his head down a little bit—a sign of far too many hours spent in front of a monitor, staring focused at the screen.

He has short, dark brown hair, which he takes good care of, and combs backward. He shaves his facial hair almost every day. He has a slightly egg-shaped face, small green eyes, a round nose, a wide mouth with thin lips, and a sharp chin. He often looks tired from a lack of rest—at any moment, it almost seems he could fall into a deep sleep if he let himself.

As for his clothing, he prefers to wear suits, even in less formal activities. That said, he strays away from ties and finds them a hassle. With his slick, corporate looks and neat outfits, he could easily pass as a businessman or a manager. On the day of the network attack, he wore a black blazer, a dress shirt, black slacks, black socks, and a pair of black dress shoes.

Biography: [KENNEDY] (███ █████) was born in San José, California. The oldest of five children, [KENNEDY] was born into poverty to two blue-collar parents who could barely hold the family together. As a result of their long work hours, [KENNEDY] was often expected to step into a parental role and take care of his younger siblings; as a result, he never had much time alone for himself during his early childhood years.

It was only during his time in middle school that [KENNEDY] found a passion to define him: information technology and programming. As a child, he quickly showed his talent, teaching himself to write custom microprograms using what he could learn from sources on the internet. Soon, he found himself outgrowing what was possible on the family's old computer and resolved to work to save money and buy one of his own.

In high school, [KENNEDY] decided he wanted to attend university—something that seemed financially infeasible given the financial woes the family was undergoing. Undeterred by this, he excelled in school, saved money from his work, and applied for (and received) many scholarships. Even so, circumstances forced him to take on student loans to afford his education, and he became saddled with an enormous debt.

As a result of his financial needs, [KENNEDY] opted to study a niche, specific field with high demand: computer science with a concentration in human-computer interaction (HCI) systems. The sizable average salary for an expert in this field would have given [KENNEDY] plenty of money to start paying off all his debts—and then some. With this objective in mind, he was confident that his future seemed bright and promising.

Two months before he graduated from San José State University and received his hard-earned degree, Interface announced the development of Cyber Reality. This technology opened more doors than previously thought possible, revolutionizing the field of computer science—and, unfortunately for [KENNEDY], rendered his degree virtually worthless in the economy that subsequently formed around the technology.

[KENNEDY] was devastated. In a moment, four years of blood, sweat, and toil washed away; because it happened so late into his degree, he could not pivot into a different field and was, in effect, left out to dry. He graduated with a worthless degree and mountains of debt, unable to find a job in a market that no longer saw his skills as valuable. To survive, he took a mediocre desk job at a large firm, a role far below his skill level.

He hated every moment of it. Despite that, [KENNEDY] proved more than capable of its expectations; he worked hard and quickly began to work his way up the rungs of the company, gaining a reputation for being reliable, competent, and a good leader. As he slowly stabilized his finances and began to chip away at his debt, he continued to teach himself new programming disciplines—this time, however, for more sinister purposes.

Blaming the rise of Cyber Reality for his predicament, [KENNEDY], bitter with what he saw as a technology that ruined his life, began to write programs aimed at impeding and inconveniencing the technology. He taught himself how to crash servers and brick users' Cyber Reality Devices (CRDs) and used these newfound abilities to enact minor incidents of vengeance against what he saw as having wronged him.

Towards the end of 2018, however, something changed the course of [KENNEDY]'s life forever. His father was involved in a severe car accident that left him in a persistent vegetative state. Convinced that his father would rather have died than be confined to his bed for the rest of his life, [KENNEDY] attempted to hack into the hospital's power systems and cause a blackout that would terminate his father's life support systems.

The plan was a total failure. [KENNEDY], in his irrational haste to enact his agenda, overestimated his hacking abilities and underestimated the hospital's cybersecurity. In the following law enforcement investigation, [KENNEDY] was the prime suspect; were it not for the intervention of [INITIATIVE EARTH], he would likely have gotten charged with several crimes related to attempted mass homicide and cyberterrorism.

Despite this failure, the attack brought him to the awareness of [WASHINGTON]; his leadership skills, technological know-how, and particular combination of individual personality characteristics resulted in [KENNEDY] being designated as a potential candidate for recruitment into the organization in a leadership and organizational role. Leveraging several pieces of incriminating evidence, the organization recruited him.

Personality: [KENNEDY] has had to work hard for most of his life. As a result, he disdains those who are lazy, who do not pull their weight, and who fail to invest themselves fully into their work. As a result, he fits neatly into the role of an administrative taskmaster, able to meet essential deadlines in the project; when necessary, he is more than willing to crack the whip on those subordinates who fail to meet project expectations.

Taking care of his younger siblings from an early age resulted in increased development in social areas—such as conscientiousness and extraversion—making him a natural leader. Despite that, and partially due to a moderately narcissistic disposition, [KENNEDY] struggles to recognize others as his equals, even when keeping an amiable façade; as a result, he is often discontent when faced with authority above his own.

[KENNEDY], during psychological evaluation, scored well in intelligence but low in empathy and emotional affect; he has a hybrid schizoid and antisocial personality style that displays significant quantities of the malevolent features that embody the so-called "dark triad"—narcissism, Machiavellianism, and psychopathy—though not enough to put him in the abnormal range. That makes him an ideal candidate for the operation.

[KENNEDY]'s motivations regarding partaking in the operation are apparent: he is bitter and vengeful, roused by a feeling of being wronged by the world. His hostile sentiment towards Cyber Reality technology gives him a degree of ideological investment in the operation; despite that, he is not a true believer, and [INITIATIVE EARTH] is under the belief that he has a personal agenda that the organization is not wholly privy to.

Despite his ideological views—and his confidence elsewhere—he is a skeptic at heart. He has a dim view of the operation's chances of success, and a gloomy, humorless demeanor has begun to color his interactions with other organization members. Despite this, he views his role with the utmost seriousness, throwing himself entirely into his work and doing as much as possible to ensure everything goes according to the plan.