The SolGrid Rebellion

CHAPTER ONE

A Beagle and a Blouse at the Saturnalian

Monday, April 13, 2076, 2025 hours

One handsome young man in black set out plates and another placed five fresh glasses of wine on the candlelit table. As the waiters withdrew, Patrick James looked from his steak to the sixth dinner guest beside him shoving a toothy muzzle into his own meat.

Excellent! Trotter beamed, chewing and gulping.

How did the waiters keep from gagging? How did anyone put up with this? Of course, the management had been thoroughly charmed by Jonathan James Commer over the past six months, just as everyone in New Houston had been. Naturally JJC’s Beagle Trotter would be allowed a seat at the Saturnalian.

Trotter outclassed them all tonight in his tuxedo and bow tie. Pat, Sanders, and Jonathan James wore sport coats without ties, and the women were also informal, Jackie in a clingy navy-blue dress and Suzette in orange blouse and miniskirt.

That orange blouse sat to his left. That seriously transparent orange blouse, and that devastatingly transparent orange bra, as if she were topless beside him. And her slender legs crossed in that miniskirt.

Why couldn’t Pat just admit he’d fallen in love with Suzette Borman? He closed his eyes to the sound of the tuxedoed dog wolfing steak off his plate.

Thank God Trotter was Dark. They all were. Pat and Sanders had agreed to remain Dark as they worked on the SolGrid programming, and he knew only too well how averse JJC, Jackie, and Suzette were to the Grid. Only Trotter occasionally issued a comment, though this wasn’t via SolGrid but through the Martian telepathic outradiance the dog had mastered decades ago.

Pat lifted his wine glass. The Saturnalian kept its gravity at a standard 1G, as Pat did at SolGrid’s offices. The absurdly light surface gravity of Enceladus was fun, but he’d found he couldn’t concentrate on his work when every movement either went awry or had to be thought through in advance. Even setting a comm on a worktable in one-tenth gravity required some mental adjustment.

He regarded Jonathan James with unease. The young man wore a dark blue coat over a collarless purple shirt. His long brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail and his big hairy hands protruded from too-short sleeves as he fingered the stem of his wine glass. Tall, skinny JJC gave the impression of being frail until you noticed those powerful biceps and forearms. He sat with the women to either side, Jackie on his left and Suzette to his right.

That bastard thought he understood women so well. Maybe that came from frying his brains on being Emperor of Alpha Centauri for a few minutes last year, with trillions of Centaurian females running amok in his mind and worshipping him. In any case the ladies sure flocked to him now. A lot of people had underestimated JJC, Pat thought sourly. Including himself.

Pat set his wine down and tried to ignore Trotter slurping at a bowl of water. Okay, guys, look, anyone can see something’s up here.

Forks momentarily halted. JJC looked up with a smile. "Something up here?"

C’mon, anyone can see something’s going on here. You call this dinner, you say it’s the last time we can get together, and so what’s the deal?

JJC grinned. Why don’t you just dip into your little SolGrid and find out?

You know damn well that’s not how it works. Any idiot knew that if the others weren’t participating in the Grid, Pat wouldn’t find any information unless he happened upon some other person privy to whatever JJC knew. "So you call this dinner, and it’s all so mysterious."

"I didn’t call any dinner. I invited my friends here because I wanted their company. I’m not some hotshot corporate president who calls dinners."

Pat blinked at the insult. Okay, so he’d called a few dinners here himself as SolGrid president. But the others weren’t SolGrid, just Pat and Sanders. Jackie had her own projects to attend to and had never shown any interest in the company, and Suzette had her complicated life running between her husband back on Mars and her new lover Jonathan James. Jonathan James and his damn telepathic dog.

Okay, okay, Pat said, I just wanted to say I know your little secret and it’s damn stupid if you ask me. I can’t believe it of any of you.

The others were silent. Pat had a moment of satisfaction seeing JJC blink, but Jonathan James took a sip of his golden wine and recovered, turning to the other tables to assess the noise level. Pat followed his gaze to the windows and the icy mountains beyond the small buildings of New Houston’s main street. Above it all loomed the giant yellow sphere of Saturn undergoing reconstruction by the Martians.

JJC turned back. I’m surprised, Patio. I really didn’t think SolGrid could pick that up if we were Dark.

"Grr … uff!" Trotter put in with a hint of warning.

Pat winced. He kept forgetting that the dog understood every word they said. He was also tired of JJC’s irritating nicknaming habit. Things had definitely changed between them since their first dinner last December. He and Sanders had been deep into creating SolGrid when Jack Commer’s son showed up asking for an interview. Sanders had maintained that JJC might have some insight into the software, but Pat protested that everyone knew the twenty-eight-year-old had burned his brains out messing with the fascist Alpha Centaurian Grid a few months previously. But since JJC was his old friend Jack’s son, Pat reluctantly agreed they could take some time out and invite the kid to dinner.

Two things had immediately surprised Pat. First, instead of applying for a job, JJC pleaded with Pat to scrap all plans for SolGrid, but seeing that Pat wasn’t budging from his fresh United System contract to build just such an application, Jonathan James began a campaign to introduce safeguards against any Alpha Centaurian-style brainwashing. Over the past few months Pat had promised a dozen add-ons which he always found excuses not to implement. There just hadn’t been time with the threat of Wounded spies in Sol.

The second revelation was more astounding. It was painfully obvious that both Jackie and Sanders’ girlfriend Suzette were smitten with the young man. Jackie was seventy-six but rejuvenated to mid-thirties, and she was drooling. Pat’s own girlfriend was drooling for this brain-damaged fool. And Suzette Borman, forty-two but never rejuvenated, looking so alarmingly hard and used up, was giggling, swatting JJC’s thigh, and hanging onto his shoulder. Lee Borman’s wife, who’d been having an affair with Sanders Hirte for God knew how long.

Pat had recoiled in disgust at JJC’s charisma. It was an unruly and much more powerful version of his father’s leadership charm, and over the next months Pat had gotten more than enough of it shoved down his throat. But before long JJC was somehow part of the SolGrid group, even though he was passionately devoted to dismantling Pat’s ultimate achievement.

Look, it’s obvious something’s been up for a while. This opposition to SolGrid you have. And somehow you’ve brainwashed everyone else into it.

JJC narrowed his eyes. Let’s not use that term if you don’t mind, Mr. Patster.

Okay, okay, all I meant was that something’s up, and now I know what it is.

Here’s how he found out, Sanders said, passing his comm across Jackie to JJC. He hacked Jackie’s comm. She hadn’t upgraded to 9.22 yet and so it’s been relatively unprotected.

Really? Jackie said, hand to her breast. I thought 9.22 was optional.

It’s optional if you want your boyfriend to hack into your messages, Sanders grinned, the wild tattoos all over his face expanding and contracting.

Dammit, Sanders! Pat cried. How dare you!

That reminds me, JJC said. Sanders, let’s get all our comms upgraded with the latest darkware.

I just did right now, Sanders replied. All four of us are now on the latest.

Pat pointed at JJC. "You--giving orders to--to--" he sputtered.

JJC shrugged.

"Grrr!" Trotter said. He gulped down the rest of his steak and eyed Pat’s.

Pat turned to Sanders. "You’re taking orders? From him?"

Sanders also shrugged.

Dammit, you’re my first assistant!

Aw, c’mon, Pat, you know the problems of SolGrid, Sanders said softly. It’s out of control, man, it really is. It’s time we all admitted it.

"It’s not out of control. You of all people should know that."

Well, looks like we don’t have a serious security problem after all, JJC drawled as he scrolled through Sanders’ comm. "Mr. Patster here just knows from his hack that we’re all sick of this crap and that we’re leaving. Let’s just say I’ve kept the means in my head this whole time. And Sanders’ head, of course. We do things the old-fashioned way. We talk. So as far as I can tell, you don’t know everything."

"This is unbelievable. So you’re leaving, all of you! Even Sanders! Even you, Jackie! Where the hell do you think you’re all going? What’s all this going to prove anyway?"

JJC leaned back in his chair, again assessing other diners’ ability to overhear. Let’s just say that I’ve got a nice, Dark place all picked out. Sanders knows exactly where it is.

Sanders nodded. Sorry to turn in my resignation, you know, Pat. It was fun for a while. To Pat’s dismay, Sanders reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a sheet of plasti-paper folded into thirds. He passed it across Trotter who sniffed it as it went by.

Dammit, Sanders, I can’t believe this! Pat gasped, unfolding the letterhead.

SolGrid, Inc.

1522 Main Street, Suite 114

New Houston, Enceladus

Office of the First Assistant

I hereby resign at the end of the business day, April 13, 2076.

Pat involuntarily checked his wristwatch. 8:30 PM. Really? You’re already gone? After all we’ve been through together?

"Don’t take it too hard, man. You’ve been great to me, you really have. But I have to get out on my own now. And hell, Pat, it finally hit me just how wrong SolGrid is. How wrong the whole concept is. I just can’t do it anymore."

The letters on the page surged in and out of focus. With trembling hands Pat laid the paper atop his salad. He turned to Jackie across the table. "You too? You’re leaving the Committee and--and everything?"

He couldn’t bring himself to add: And me too?

Jackie shrugged. For the first time in months Pat saw her as a beautiful woman, not just as a girlfriend who dropped in now and then to interrupt his work on SolGrid. God, she was elegant. That perfectly sculptured face, that flawless body in that tight dark blue dress. What had he been thinking all these months? Why hadn’t he noticed how noble she was? He’d been so consumed with the business. Four hours of sleep was the standard. His mind was so locked into programming that a few nights ago he’d exited the office airlock with his EnviroField’s AutoMode switched off, to find himself on Main Street with no air, no pressure, temperature four hundred degrees below zero. Fortunately Sanders had been right behind him and maxed his own EnviroField over him, saving his worthless life. Another quarter second and he’d have been gone.

This--this is just something I need to do, Jackie said. "I’ll take a leave of absence from the Committee. Get back to them later, after things settle down. The Ywritt won’t mind. I think they need a break from us too, tell you the truth. Look, Pat, I know SolGrid’s important to you, I really do. But after looking into it, after knowing it, there’s something wrong. I can’t explain exactly, but it’s wrong for me."

"And you’re going with him, without evening knowing where you’re going?"

"Yes, dammit! It has to be secret because of SolGrid itself! Can’t you understand we’re all tired of being under your surveillance?"

"We’re all pulling out, Mr. Pat, Suzette put in gently. Jonathan James knows where he’s going. We trust him."

Pat whirled to her; he’d forgotten the goddess next to him. Yeah, I suppose you’d have to go, wouldn’t you? He was aware of the bitter disdain in his voice but the sight of her dark nipples clearly visible through the orange blouse was too much for him. He could feel her smiling brown eyes and finally looked up to meet them.

"Of course I have to go with my man, Mr. Pattycakes! And I’m sorry to report right to your dear face that SolGrid does suck, Patio! Sorry to be the one to tell you that, honeycakes!" She pressed warm fingers to his upper leg. Pat stared in shock.

I love her! I love her!

His eyes wrenched from the hand still on his leg, across her miniskirted thighs, up over the full, nearly nude breasts, and finally to that unfathomable, taunting Mediterranean face.

We’ve taken a vow to fight your SolGrid, Mr. Pat. That’s just the way it is!

Pat was lost in her laughing eyes, and everyone at the table knew it, even Trotter who was nuzzling the remains of Pat’s meat and potato off his plate. What had happened with her rejuvenation? How did she get to be so transcendently beautiful? She’d been horrifying before, even though the tough, aging creature had somehow captured Jonathan James within a week of that first dinner. The two had openly been a couple since then, and Sanders truly didn’t mind. What the hell, it was time for her to switch off, was the only comment Pat had gotten out of his first assistant. But to Pat, Sanders Hirte’s former saucy girlfriend and Lee Borman’s wandering wife had always seemed akin to an ex-whore meth addict.

So he’d scoffed when Suzette announced she was finally getting her first rejuvenation therapy this spring. He’d assumed she’d be frozen at her stone-hard texture for the next two hundred years, but everyone was astonished when she’d emerged from the treatment at the end of March, just two weeks ago. Suzette was dazed to find her body, her skin, her energy, her sexuality, all reversed to age nineteen in one of the rare cases where rejuvenation actually turned the aging process backwards. Usually rejuvenation kept you at a robust late thirties or early forties, but there were varying results including people like JJC’s own counselor, who so far hadn’t taken well to his treatment and looked his eighty years.

The group had been thrown into disarray by Suzette’s impossible beauty and the sex hormones blasting everywhere. JJC was delighted, but the fact that he’d already been besotted with her before rejuvenation only added to her own addiction to him. Jackie was secure enough to show no jealousy, but it was obvious that she, like Pat, struggled to accommodate an extremely sexually active teenager in their midst.

Pat had wondered if Sanders would turn back in Suzette’s direction, but he’d seemed to shrug the entire thing off. What was he doing with that huge oversexed body these days? Was he heading over to the prostitutes on Cleaver Street? Pat had been there twice himself and each time had sworn he’d never return. Now he was contemplating leaping from this table and going for his third.

Because there was Suzette. And he loved her. She was so magnificent. And she smiled at him, half-naked right next to him, touching his leg, arousing him, for God’s sake. Even as she insulted SolGrid, his sole reason for existence.

Like the rest, she knew SolGrid was broken. But how could they know how bad it really was? Pat hadn’t even told First Assistant Sanders how bad it was.

He wrenched his glance from her dangerous eyes, from her lips, from the intoxicating blouse. Look, none of you really has the slightest idea what you’re talking about! he tried, even as it sank in even further than they all knew. The entire solar system knew.

CHAPTER TWO

Draft One Must Die!

JJC laughed. You know, Mr. Pat, my first thought when I got to Enceladus was to blow up your damn headquarters. Not that I’d want to hurt you personally or anyone. I figured I could do it in the dead of the night, you know. But I’m not a terrorist, and anyway Hirte says you have so many backup locations it wouldn’t matter. He waved at the frozen mountains outside, at the temperatures flirting with absolute zero. And I can’t bring myself to blow up this charming little artist colony.

Pat stared at Trotter, who was fully onto Pat’s plate, scarfing down the salad with his nose pulsating under Sanders’ resignation letter. Pat knew it was over. He loved SolGrid. He loved the office and the state-of-the-art computer equipment in there. But it was all over anyway whether JJC blew it up or not. The endless nights working on the program, so elegant, so mesmerizing. All for nothing.

Okay, so he wasn’t getting enough sleep. So he wasn’t sampling the wonders of the damn artist colony. He loved New Houston anyway. Enceladus had originally been the province of Martians repairing it from the Saturn explosion of 2031 and guiding this and the other moons back into their former orbits. Then scientists arrived to probe the newly-discovered primitive life forms in the underground ocean, and somehow museums had gravitated here, science museums and art museums and then galleries and pottery studios, restaurants like the swanky Saturnalian, and endless bars. Freaky creative types in EnviroFields pranced everywhere in the one-tenth gravity, and bikers roared through town on moon motorcycles, though they actually roared by broadcasting EnviroField frequencies which anyone could turn off or on as they chose, depending on how much local color they wanted. One brainless jerk had actually hit escape velocity on his bike and had to be rescued by the USSF.

But Pat’s friends were leaving, mocking him, turning on him. Suzette whom he loved. His friend Sanders Hirte. How had this Jonathan James son of a bitch gotten control of his Sanders?

Sanders had been the bouncer at Lee and Suzette’s nightclub in Marsport, and Pat had snatched him up the day he’d finalized the contract for SolGrid with the United System Council. Yeah, people had squawked; nobody could understand how an apparent drifter like Hirte could become Pat’s top programmer, but Pat knew Hirte’s talents and was certain he had just the man for the job. It was the first week of December and they’d had to move fast to get SolGrid done by the end of the year.

Dammit, guys, doesn’t anybody remember that we’re really still at war? Pat cried. Doesn’t anyone remember the Wounded?

JJC sat back. Mr. Patster, we must’ve had this conversation a hundred times.

Hirte shrugged. "We did what we set out to do, Pat. Now we’ve got to come to terms with the problems in SolGrid."

Nobody knew whether they were coming down our throats the next second or not! Pat yelled. "Can’t you idiots ever understand that? Sanders, you understood!"

I know, man, I know, but think about the static, and the privacy violations, and the damage to SolNet itself.

There’s … no damage, really. But nobody knew better than Pat what the so-called auxiliary application SolGrid had done to the SolNet infrastructure. Even Sanders didn’t know all of it. The thirty kid programmers still coding away down at 1522 Main this evening on their cute little SolGrid apps had no clue. Or the five hundred employees of the Marketing Department scattered across the solar system, in fact the largest part of SolGrid. Despite involving Hirte in much of the secondary programming, Pat had written Draft One of SolGrid himself in defiance of Section 14 of the contract. And nobody but Pat was allowed to look at the Telepathic Kernel.

People called him a genius. If they only knew he’d just memorized Phil Sperry’s hack of the Alpha Centaurian Grid last summer. He’d been fully inside the Grid. All anybody had to do was look, and commit the damn Grid kernel to memory.

Yes, SolGrid was based at its core on the Alpha Centaurian Grid.

God, what if he just blurted that out? Sure, he had safeguards in place. Special human frequency blocks. Too bad they just didn’t work.

Faces turned away from him. Even Trotter had his head down.

They all must have dropped him a long time ago. He’d been working nonstop since December 2nd. Even after they implemented SolGrid on the last day of December, he just couldn’t let up. How much of the group dynamics had he missed? He’d tried to persuade himself that JJC might provide interesting counterarguments for him to gnaw on, that his presence in the group might be a catalyst for breakthroughs. He’d dismissed Suzette’s whines as mere echoes of JJC’s thinking, but hadn’t realized that Jackie had also turned against SolGrid.

Sanders was the big surprise. Over the last week he’d been coming to Pat with concerns about the static, the SolNet pollution, and database decay, but Pat had assumed Hirte wanted to work on these problems. Now he’d given up.

They all had. Pat would return to Command Cubicle One tomorrow without any of them. No more dinners at the Saturnalian. No more Jackie. She wanted Jonathan James. God, the kid would take both women. Maybe share them with goddamn Sanders.

Pat reeled at the vision of the four of them groping each other in bed. Another chug of wine didn’t help. "Dammit, we’ve outed 7,129 Wounded robots since December! Fifteen more just today! We saved the goddamn solar system from getting Sphered like Iota Persei last year! And what do you do? You whine and complain and run off to start some sex commune!"

"Wow, what’s Mr. Pattycakes have on his mind, I wonder? Suzette laughed, poking his thigh. Dear Mr. Pattycakes, aren’t you romantic!"

Trotter barked happily.

"Dammit …" Pat muttered, aware of other diners following this exchange.

JJC laughed. "C’mon, this ain’t no sex commune, Patio. Believe me, we’re gonna pick up followers. If you haven’t noticed, there are millions of people totally fed up with SolGrid. The only ones who still love it are the SolGrid addicts."

"No …" Pat moaned. He was tempted to roll into the Grid and verify what JJC was saying, but he kept up his guard. He’d only allowed himself into PublicGrid a couple times for quick tests. AdminGrid was a different matter. It had only one member. In fact, he’d been so rattled he’d forgotten to delete Hirte from EditGrid. He burst into Admin and it was like a cold bucket of water over his head.

Across the table Sanders blinked at being deleted.

Sorry, man, sorry, Pat muttered, reluctant to relinquish the cool Admin and return to his humiliation at the dinner table. But I can’t have you in there anymore. And I demand you honor the nondisclosure agreement.

Agreed, Sanders said. "No big deal. Anyway, we’re leaving, and I’m done with any sort of Grid. JJC has this vision, I guess you could say."

Look, Pat, Jackie put in, we know SolGrid has done some good, especially in January when it began flushing out all those Wounded. But SolNet’s never been right, and think about the Martians. About all that static coming into their outradiance.

Aaah, screw the goddamn Martians, Pat said. Bunch of wimps. I told ’em they’d feel it a little bit, but of course they have to exaggerate it all out of proportion.

"A little bit? It’s wrong, Pat. It’s not working, and you know it."

"But this is my life. This is what I was called on to do!"

And anyway, if there are any Wounded left, they’re probably just better at hiding now. Anyone can go Dark, obviously.

"Sure, but the patterns of millions of people on the Grid, I mean, then you sift the patterns and you can easily figure out who’s a goddamn robot or not," Pat protested, itching to jump back into AdminGrid. What if he could follow the logic paths for isolating robotic behavior based on the input of millions of SolGrid connectees in their various random contacts with that robot, and then strengthened Scanning Matrix at Polarity Axis?

"We’ve gotten too paranoid, Pat. SolGrid’s destroying us."

Dammit, Jackie, I can’t believe you turned on me like this!

"I can’t believe you turned on me," Jackie shot back with the slightest nod in Suzette’s direction.

Somehow the sex hormone-drenched Suzette didn’t pick up this inference. Pat looked away from Jackie’s glare, down to the scraps on his dog-soggy plate. Did Jackie know how he felt about Suzette? Oh God, of course she did. Everyone did.

But if that were the case, what if a Pheromone Scanner Subsystem was interpolated into the Bypass Matrix and then every time someone questioned the stability of a sexual relationship, Frequency Node would take a snapshot and port it over to the resulting--

No, it would never work. Frequency Node didn’t interface with--

Dammit, stop it!

"Look, I know SolGrid has problems. That’s why I’m trying to fix them. That’s why I’m working these twenty-hour days! But then you abandon me!"

Hirte shrugged. "There’s something really, deeply wrong with SolGrid, dude. Something that can’t be corrected. You have to know that."

No! Draft Two will take care of all the problems! I’ve got it all in my head!

Draft Two? JJC said with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes, Draft Two! I know Draft One is crap! I admit it! But Draft Two will correct everything!"

Will it be based on that same Telepathic Kernel you won’t let anyone look at? Hirte said. All the problems lead right back there. I’ve just never been able to get any further.

Pat blinked. "Of course I’ll change the Kernel … a little."

Sure he would, just as soon as he figured out how it worked. Was he an idiot or what, to think he could inflict the Alpha Centaurian Grid on the whole solar system? It was all a failure. They’d gotten some Wounded, but his ex-friends here were right. Anybody could figure out how to outwit RobotScanGamma.

And there was Jackie looking so irresistible. When was the last time they’d had good sex? Any sex?

All right, I’ll admit it. SolGrid sucks! See, I agree with you! Okay? I’ve been working my ass off on it for five months now and I’m as sick of it as any of you! Okay?

He met JJC’s sad brown eyes set incongruously in that merry laughing face. Yes, Jonathan James was now the leader. All this time Pat had thought he was actually running something, but he wasn’t. JJC had walked in here and grabbed it all. And it was funny because Pat loved the guy, everyone did. He had the charisma, not Pat. He had Suzette. Pat could never