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- Herausgeber: Noel Gray
- Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
- Sprache: Englisch
War of the Web Book One: The Battle of the Clouds In the opening decades of the new millennium a startling fact emerges about the Internet. This revelation changes the entire history of humanity, and eventually leads to the world’s largest corporation trying to take complete control of the Internet. A small band, led by a legendary Web Raider, sets out to stop this happening. A fierce fight between the two forces ends in a catastrophic disaster that causes the entire Web to sink into the depths of electronic madness. War of the Web is the author’s first publication in the recent genre, Fy-Sy (Fictive-Science). As the name implies, the science in this genre is implausible, non-credible, and absurd.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017
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Noel Gray
WAR OF THE WEB
© Noel Gray 2017
ONDINA PRESS
www.noelgraybooks.com
Book cover: original photographby Michael Podger (on unsplash.com), digitally altered by Ondina Press
Contents:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
to LISE & DIDIER
Chapter 1
In the second half the 20th century, after computers had revolutionized the storage, production, and transmission of information across local and global borders, there emerged a new society. This society had no country. It had no governing body, elected or otherwise. It had no prior history of heroes and villains, no dominant culture, and no single political platform. It was an international network of linked computers and their operators, where everything was routed through servers and where search engines tirelessly did the bidding of billions of users around the world. This new, invisible world was known as the INTERNET.
Who and what created the Internet is a history still in the making. Because modern history prefers technological origins that are fathered by a single person, then one or two individuals had this honour of invention bestowed upon them. A less centric view broadens the base and claims one of the Internet's earliest gestations was a computer-linked information system initially constructed by the Western military establishment as an early warning device to guard against a nuclear attack by the Soviets. To what degree this network actually worked is open to question, but as the Soviet Union eventually fragmented and obligingly deleted itself the details of this proto-internet are somewhat obscure.
However, what is clear is that throughout its infancy the Internet began to display its most peculiar feature: it refused to be contained. Like some rampant virus, it broke out of its confinement in guarded facilities and other highly specialised locations around the globe. Before the establishment could mount the barricades, private and public bodies dealing in information and its transmission began employing the basic idea of linking computers worldwide. The Internet began to morph into a web-like structure. Universities, corporations, telecommunication and media networks, stock markets, political organizations, and personal and private interest groups and associations all started to transmit, swap and share data using their computers. Everyday, millions of messages travelled the airwaves. With little fan-fare at first, email, e-commerce, e-everything began to burrow deep into the foundations of most societies.
With a few regional exceptions, English emerged as the Internet's primary language, and all who travelled on this electronic grid or information superhighway, as it was once called in the popular press, adopted a loose set of habits, or informal protocols. This informality kept the Internet democratic and helped it grow to a size that few had predicted in its earlier years. Its activities rapidly spanned and enmeshed the entire globe. No longer merely an electronic mode for transmitting data, it also became a media for creating new ideas and a space where a myriad of people met daily to chat with each other. It was an electronic version of an Italian Piazza, a Greek Agora, a town square writ large where people wandered in and out, sunning themselves in the warmth of familiar voices, eavesdropping on quarrels, arranging rendezvous, or simply watching life's parade go by. It was the ideal place to sell and buy, plot and plan, recruit and inflame, celebrate and defame.
Millions “surfed” it daily, constructing fantasies beyond anything previously known. Bricks and mortar, paint and clay, became passé as information became the new material of creation. Almost anything could be simulated electronically, and the only limit was the power of one’s imagination and the quality and scope of one’s equipment. People even had virtual affairs on the Internet, and almost all of them had a good time, minus the physical element. Surfers built virtual castles in the sky, colonies, cities, and even imaginary cultures, with nothing more than a few volts of electricity. They could plug into anywhere at will and speak with people thousands of miles away or secretly turn someone else’s computer into an unwitting slave or mule. They could steal ideas and intellectual labour, or live out their wildest dreams by becoming someone else, and as a bonus, create personal histories, appropriately enhanced. They could even inhabit many places at once. Virtuality began to rival reality. This electronically induced environment closely resembled a black hole, netting everything that ventured near. It finally completed its metamorphosis into a World Wide Web, stretching coast-to-coast, continent-to-continent, and brain-to-brain.
The third decade of the new millennium saw countless Internet based World Expositions drawing virtual crowds running into the billions. Sport shifted its focus to virtual competitions, and the Web Olympics grabbed audiences everywhere, with hacking, crashing, and hash-tagging its most popular events. Even a major war between two rival nations was fought out on the Web, but neither side won because most users lost interest after several hours, not least of all because there were no real-time staggering casualties a.k.a. recalibration of expected active force expenditure, or tactical blunders a.k.a. strategic adjustments. Finally, by the year 2039, in the Kármán Line at the boundary of Earth's atmosphere and outer space, hundreds of thousands of low-cost, perpetually orbiting silicon vapour streams, dedicated solely to the Web were added to the existing satellite and ground networks. A timeless dream had come true: Heaven and earth literally met on the Web.
Old ideas concerning the dimensions of Space and the direction of Time fell by the wayside. Time and Space were revealed to be merely primitive features of the Great Liquid Horizon or Electronic Flow (e-Stream) embracing animate and inanimate existence. Scholars and intellectuals regarded anything not in the tidal current of this force as permanently embedded in the Dense Amorphous Mass, (DAM). They have not yet proven this last assertion. What everyone did agree on was that the mantras of the age were all about connecting, with a capital C: I'm Connected Therefore I Virtually Am (favoured by the chronically insecure), or, Cme 2(relatively popular among social climbers), or, for the bulk of the population (unburdened by obsessive doubt or vertical obsessions) it was simply: Stay Alive-Stay Connected, or the teenager fear version: Disconnect and Die.
The Web became so busy that media reports speculated about its boundless horizons, and its endless diversity. It was so far-reaching that philosophers began to theorize about its nature and effects, real and imaginary. Universities offered degree courses in its history and practice. Information Technology (IT) rushed to keep pace with the demands of consumers and businesses alike. Voice recognition programs and mood apps became boom sellers, as did encryption and de-encryption software. On the other side of the coin, Cyber-crime, in the time-honoured tradition of all profit and loss systems, was tidal and its waves beached or sank many and floated a few. Those who practiced its darkly complicated arts ranged from lone hackers to global syndicates, from struggling local businesses to voracious multinationals, from politically correct governments to politically correcting governments.
These assorted e-Crims targeted individuals, domestic and foreign infrastructures, and anything else that could generate hidden profits or was deemed a threat to national security, which to the superpowers often amounted to the same thing. As a modern political tool it supplied a level of deviousness previously only fantasised by politicians; as a military option, renamed Cyber-warfare, it saved a fortune and could be blamed on anyone. The skill-index required to be successful at this new form of crime was impressive, and virtual secret universities sprang up offering degrees in everything from ID theft to nuclear program interdiction, all at bargain basement prices, with numbered Swiss bank accounts and self-deleting Diplomas as optional extras. In its basic form, Cyber-crime was the cheapest, least riskiest, and most anonymous form of nefarious activity ever devised and therefore, quite naturally, appealed to villains and victims, victors and vanquished, vultures and vice-versa, and various other versions, alike.
With all this activity, legal or otherwise, it was not surprising that countless stories about the Web constantly circulated, either trying to explain the phenomenon or warning against its dangers. The emergence of social forums and chat rooms, personal and professional Blogs, and the phenomenal explosion of networking sites, (many sired by the ubiquitous portable cell phone, and its later smarter relative), such as Facebook, YouTube, Twitter, Growl, Hiss, and the largest of them all, 99%-ers, enthralled and engaged billions of people.
Quite simply, the Web was everywhere, and in everything. It was the single biggest source of artificial pleasure and intrigue ever devised. Naturally, with enjoyment, knowledge, and conspiracies now freely available, authorities everywhere became even more alarmed, some bordering on hysteria, as they saw their respective influence begin to diminish. Electronic gates, locks and encrypted safe-sites, anti-abuse and pro-moral software, concept outages and image erasers, and censorship chips, bits and bytes, were quickly designed and deployed to counter this global perpetrator of everything good and evil, anarchic or otherwise.
Tradition nostalgia worry groups, Corporate and Individual profit alarmists, and Law Enforcement/Military alert screamers lobbied for legislation to regulate it. The established Power Elite spoke of the Web as a cesspool, an out-of-control monster that could cause havoc and circumvent the law of the land, the laws of Nature, and fear of all fears, even challenge their god-given right to rule and make money. A clear battle line was drawn: Freedom of expression, enjoyment, and fantasy versus Civility, Morality, Religion, Necessary Lies, Varnished Truths, Ceaseless Profits, and just about everything else considered as the foundation of society, regardless if the society deemed to be under threat was a democracy, a dictatorship, or merely a dynasty with a destiny deficit.
Many governments, under pressure from corporate bodies, spiritual heads, and other threatened members of the "we know what's best for everyone" species, rapidly passed laws aimed at curtailing, corralling, caging, and circumcising, the monster in their midst. Online users fought back by mega-spamming, herd-hacking, and bulk-crashing the networks of government departments, politicians, and other numerous parasites; Global Servers switched off their equipment for a day or two; and Celebrities lined-up to boast their love of unfettered access (to the Web that is, not to themselves). This counter-attack was encouragingly successful, particularly when politicians realised they were losing votes, corporations began to see their profits slump, and the religious elite noticed their flocks were emailing their respective Deities for help, favours, and advice instead of praying in churches, temples, and mosques.
Laws quickly got revoked or officially ignored, tax havens mushroomed and became respectable, and places of worship installed free Internet Access, renamed as Prayer Peripherals, Pagan Plug-ins, or Paradise Portals, depending on the belief system being followed.
Before long, things went back to normal.
The Web had evaded all measures aimed at its control.
Or so everyone thought.
****
One day changed the world forever. It changed every view, theory, attitude, thought, and feeling. It changed every nation, society, and culture. It changed politics, religion, and economies. It changed science, art, and philosophy. It changed the very idea of what was life itself.
It was the day the world discovered that the Web was, itself, Alive.
Civilization had finally created a real artificial life. Somehow, and no one was sure how it had happened, this new life-form was born in the electronic field generated between the thousands of orbiting satellites and silicon vapour streams and the thousands of telecommunication networks that crisscrossed the earth. In this space, where signals rained down and spiralled up non-stop, lived an electronic being that wrapped itself around its creator. It took its energy from its maker and did his and her bidding. It was like a giant genie: it was all things to all people and it could do almost anything asked of it. No dream was too virtual, no reality too fantastic for this creature. It made impossible worlds with such ease that the word began to lose its meaning. Fantasy was in danger of becoming just another reality.
The date this shock was delivered to the world was the 12 th of July 2044. On that day an academic scientist in charge of the Web Society Studies at Oxford University held a seminar. He promised his students and colleagues something spectacular. It was later considered the greatest understatement ever uttered in the history of the world.
His presentation began quietly enough. He first dismissed the popular idea that the Web was like a vast city of interconnected electronic highways, full of countless off-ramps, intersections, and traffic jams. He then demolished the idea of the Russian Doll enthusiasts who believed that the Web was a series of individual compartments, each one nesting inside another. Finally, he jettisoned the Fractal Geometers’ claim that it was made of self-similar layers of increasing complexity. Instead, he stated that the Web was like an enormous electric sea, a large viscous and invisible membrane encircling the earth between two electronic forces. Down on the ground existed telecommunication networks made up of zillions of radiating and zigzagging lines. Up in the air were satellites and silicon streams, nearly a million of them. The networks on the ground were a sort of bed across which the Web flowed, the way a sea flowed across its bed of sand and rock. The orbiting satellites and streams were like the countless stars and milky-way under which the sea passed. And like the sea, the Web’s invisible electric surface rose and fell in waves. It had tidal surges, neaps and ebbs, currents, whirlpools, rapids, calm and turbulent spots. It made a noise like the sea and like the sea this noise had been repeatedly ignored, quickly labelled as only background sound, rainbow noise, unimportant but constant.
At this point in his presentation the lecturer sprang his surprise. This noise was not electronic babble; he conceded, however, that it needed to be decoded for its full importance to be recognized. He then ran on the university’s super-computer a special program he had created: aptly named, e-SEA ( electronic Sound Evaluation Array): eC, for short. This program assimilated the Web’s total noise, at the same time as it changed every word, letter and image on the Web into either a single musical note or a cluster or beam of notes, or even into a sonata, concerto or whole symphony. What resulted from this mix stunned his audience. Everyone present heard the surf, heard the clamour, heard the Web’s voice, as it rose and fell like an operatic aria. Although it spoke in a language that defied translation, its obvious coherency left no doubt in anyone’s mind. The Web was a living entity.
From that moment on the world listened to the voice of the Web. They could hear its moods, wonder if it was in a good or bad temper and what kind of day it was having. Some claimed they could even tell what it was secretly thinking. From that moment on the Web was no longer an inanimate collection of messages or merely a vast network of lifeless information. Nor was it a place populated solely by adolescents (nerds, in the vernacular of the time) all pretending to be “tall, dark haired warriors with piercing blue eyes, wielding magic swords.” Now, thanks to eC, the Web was known to be alive, known to exceed the sum of all who rode its waves. It could be moody, feel pain and lose its temper. Surfers felt its emotions and heard its laughter, hiccups and sighs.
It was alive. This fact amazed most and terrified a few. All agreed, however, that the world would never be the same again. The greatest shock in history had been delivered. There was no turning back.
Nature was no longer the sole creator of life.
****
A year or so later, the man who delivered this startling news, Benthos September, was sitting in his office. Its walls were littered with every form of academic award and accolade. The Nobel Prize for Webology was the only one in a frame. A knock on the door snapped him out of his thoughts.
“Aye, come in,” he drawled, his Scottish accent heavy with depression.
A tall, fierce looking man with a mop of white hair entered the office and plonked himself on a chair. “Well, as I live and breathe like the Web, if it isn’t September already, almost winter again, my of my. How are you, Benny, old pal?”
Staring at his visitor, September made no effort to hide his annoyance. Sitting opposite him was Pirelli Hall, the boldest and most unscrupulous Web Raider of them all - and still using that tired and worn out joke about September’s name being the month before winter. Ten-to-one he was going to brag about his latest exploits on the Web. September cursed his luck and made a feeble effort at reefing the sails of this notorious pirate.
“How are you, Pirelli, you old retread, looking tired and down as usual, or just flat today?” He knew that Hall was extremely touchy about his first name being the same as an Italian tyre company, back when cars still had wheels and drivers.
“What’s with this deflation business, you mental relic?” demanded a suddenly angry Hall. “Do I call you Doc Fall every time I see you, Benny? No sir, not me, I try to be pleasant, but you? Oh no, not you, Mr. Benny All-Alone.” It was a tactless thing to say and the Web Raider regretted it the moment it came out of his mouth.
He quickly added, “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. For Web’s sake, don’t look at me like that. I know you miss Clarisa. Dear Web, we all miss that beautiful soul, but let the Web protect us Benny, you’ve got to get over it or you’ll be no use to anyone. Look, I’ll tell you what, why don’t I take you for a coffee? Then I can tell you about this incredible thing that happened just after I fleeced the info-rafts of a large bunch of novice surfers.”
In spite of himself, September was touched by Hall’s comments about Clarisa. They had been great friends, his late wife and Hall, although he could never see what she saw in this conceited blow-heart. She had said once that Pirelli was not what he seemed. He had never understood what she had meant. Not that he was interested enough at the time to find out, and now it was too late, anyway. Fearful that unwanted memories would again overtake him, he decided to let Hall blow his trumpet. Perhaps it would take his mind off things for a while?
“Okay,” he replied, trying to sound enthusiastic. Not that it paid to encourage Hall too much or he would go on for hours, as he had countless times in the past.
“Great,” said Hall, more than a little surprised that the other man had agreed so willingly. He still remembered the time this brain-ox had thrown him out of his house. Thrown him out before he could tell September and his wife something important he had learned about the Web. Clarisa had died the following week, shot to death by a burglar she had unluckily surprised.
Another thought crossed his mind. Where in Web’s sake was September when his wife was being shot? Aloof brain-board, he was probably upstairs in his study dreaming up some new nonsense - spare the world from people who do nothing but think. Still, Clarisa was gone and there was nothing anyone could do about that. “All info-rafts finally sink on the Web and that’s the sad truth of it,” he muttered half-aloud as he steered September toward the canteen.
Coffees in hand, the two men found a table away from the morning rush. Much to the horror and disgust of September, Hall filled his cup with fifteen lumps of sugar. He then took one swig of this coffee-soaked sugar bomb, cleared his throat, and began the tale of his latest raid on the Web.
“I don’t have to tell you, Benny, that no living soul can cruise the waves of the Web as I can. No one knows its moods better than I do, with the exception of you, of course.” He didn’t believe the last part of his remark but he thought he had better say something pleasant to the mess sitting opposite him.
