The Beam: Season One (23 page)

“We’re off to see the Wizard!”
 

Leah held both hands up, despite the fact that she knew better than to lay this particular horse’s reins across the saddle horn even for a moment. Given the vehemence in Crumb’s voice, the gesture of contrition seemed necessary.
 

“Where is the Wizard, Crumb?”
 

Crumb wasn’t listening. He was rummaging in his beard, which he seemed to use as a hairy backpack. He pulled some odd scrap of food from deep in its gray hairs and slipped it into his mouth.
 

They finally emerged from the forested part of the trail, which was good because overhead clearance had been getting worse and worse on the old path for the past few minutes. Leah reminded herself to check her head for ticks when she got back, and to ride out sometime soon with clippers to clear the path.
 

The path didn’t take them into what remained of Bontauk’s pathetic town center. It took them to the edge of Pilloud’s old property. So they crossed a large open field, past some fallen fencing and through a small sea of very tall grass, and walked up to the house. It looked like the house had been burned again since she’d last been here, and the place seemed to have fallen to another round of raids. There wasn’t anything left for raiders to steal, but the house’s shell looked big enough to be tempting, even as burned and decimated as it was. Eventually she knew they’d burn it down entirely and people would lose any cause to raid it, but for now an entire wing was still standing. That was where they needed to go.

Leah tied both of their horses to a remaining fencepost. Crumb hopped down at her command and followed her inside the house. He pulled off bits of conventional, non-Beam plaster as they entered the old house and, Leah felt quite certain, began to eat it. She lost him for a while as he went into another room and pissed. When he found her again, kneeling over the FiGlass port with her toolkit, he held a small metal bowl covered with painted kittens that was rusted through and had a hole in its bottom. Crumb clutched it like a jewel.
 

She looked up at the gray-haired old man with an air of getting down to business.

“Crumb, do you know what we’re doing here?”
 

“We’re off to see the Wizard.”

“I need to hook you up to The Beam.
Directly
to The Beam. Leo thinks there’s something in that melon of yours that we need to know about, and it’ll be firewalled if it’s there. I can’t hack into a mind. I’m good, but not that good. We need The Beam as an intermediary. The Beam is able to talk to neurons and I’m able to talk to The Beam with this.” She tapped the small rectangular port behind her ear. “So this is going to be me rooting around in your mind, through The Beam. We’re basically putting miles and miles of cable between us even as we sit here so that we’ll have the tools and the mutual language to communicate. Do you understand?”
 

Crumb seemed to concentrate very hard. Leah expected him to nod stupidly or to walk away, but he didn’t. The focus in his eyes — for Crumb — was intense. Finally, with both hands jittering, he said, “I want to see the Wizard.”
 

“Come over here.”
 

Crumb sat down and scooted closer to the wall, where Leah had uncoiled twenty feet of FiGlass line she’d ripped from the wall the last time she’d been here almost a full year before. Soon the rest of the house would burn and the FiGlass would melt and she’d need to dig it out of the dirt where it crossed the yard, but for now, the house offered shade and shelter.
 

As if he understood, Crumb turned so that the back of his filthy head was facing her. Leah fought nausea at his stink.
 

She tapped him on the shoulder so that he swiveled his head to look at her, then held up a Plasteel device that looked like a massive black spider.
 

“I call this ‘The Hat,’ ” she said. “It’s like one of those temperamental, sometimes-they-kinda-work experimental immersion rigs, except that there are no user outs. So you won’t see or hear the feed like you would with a rig. This is read-and-meta only. To whatever extent I can get in, it’ll allow me to download what’s in your head and let The Beam talk to the metadata underlying our handshake. But to you, it’ll just feel like sitting there with a tight hat on your head. Do you understand?”
 

Leah looked at Crumb, saw that there was zero chance he understood a word of what she was saying, and slid the device onto his head. There was a knob at the top of the Hat and the fingers of the spiderlike contraption pointed down the back of his neck, beside his ears, and over his forehead. She picked up the end of the FiGlass line, checked the coupler, and found it intact. The male operator’s connection on the other branch of the line looked okay too. That was good. She’d brought what was needed to wire new connectors onto raw cable, but doing so took time. This made things much easier. She plugged one connector into Crumb’s Hat and stuck the smaller, rectangular connector into the concealed port behind her ear. With the connection made, she immediately saw the controls appear in her mind. She didn’t see the controls with her eyes, which still showed her Crumb and the room. The controls and the rest of what came next would happen deeper down and felt more like the “sight” that occurred within imagination. It had been disorienting at first, but by now, Leah was used to it.
 

In front of her, Crumb was playing with a bug, heedless of the contraption on his head. But at least he was sitting still. Leah had been afraid he would want to walk around. But Crumb was being compliant even if he didn’t understand — something that was almost shocking given his status as the town crazy.
 

“Crumb, I’m going to try to enter your head. Is that okay with you?”
 

Crumb said nothing.
 

“Crumb?”
 

He turned, meeting her eyes. It could be Leah’s imagination, but looking back into Crumb’s eyes, it was as if some of the crazy had left them.
 

“I’d like your permission,” she said. “What I’m about to do is kind of an invasion. So is it okay with you if I access your mind?”
 

Crumb nodded vaguely. It would have to be enough. She doubted he understood, but she’d done her best. What Leah was about to do was a sort of mind rape, and she wanted the closest thing to consent she could possibly get.
 

“I won’t be able to get in at first,” she said. “It’ll take a while, for two reasons. One, minds have a natural firewall. We usually think of it as repression or mental defenses. Conscious, top-of-mind information is easiest to identify, but we know that whoever you are, that information isn’t top-of-mind. So this is going to be closer to an art than a science, and a lot relies on my intuitive abilities — of which I have many, fortunately.” She smiled, trying to affect good bedside manner.

Crumb was no longer listening. Still, Leah found herself wanting to speak. She was beyond uncomfortable, trespassing in someone else’s mind. She wasn’t exaggerating about it being an art. Hell, it was closer to
trance
than art, and what she didn’t want to tell Crumb was that before working on the connection, she’d sneaked away from him and done a rather large dose of moondust. Delving required a fugue. But who wanted a drug addict rummaging around in their brains?
 

She went on, knowing she was whistling in the dark.
 

“The second reason is due to The Beam itself. People hook up all the time, and nobody wants their brain hacked while they’re doing so. The encryption and firewalling around hookups like this are the toughest stuff a hacker can run into. It’s incredibly difficult to plow through.”
 

“I was once a mason,” Crumb said, flicking at a piece of stray plaster.
 

Leah sighed and went to work. She closed her eyes, stilling her mind. She operated the controls, mentally pushing the buttons that were available to anyone with a port like hers. She sniffed into the Beam, shook hands with Crumb’s feed, and began speaking to it. At first, she saw what anyone with access could see — no different then the most basic Beam page, readable like a billboard. She saw that all of his identity fields were blank, but that he’d self-identified as “Crumb,” which was almost touching. The other fields staying blank wasn’t suspicious in itself. People today were sometimes still born without Beam IDs as she herself had been. Identifiers also occasionally went missing or were deliberately obscured for privacy.
 

She let her mind slip, easing into the moondust trance. The sensation was like sinking below Crumb’s first layer as if it were the placid surface of a lake. Her thoughts grew darker. She could no longer feel her body. She let herself settle into Beamspace, her moondust-augmented mind spreading out and seeing the data as if it were bits of furniture in a room or fish in a sea. She could put any mask on the connection she wanted, but the one that seemed to work best for Leah was the visual metaphor of an immense rabbit warren filled with interconnected tunnels. She could “go down” any of the tunnels, parts of her mind touching Crumb’s, processed through the interpreters in an outlying, untrackable sector of The Beam. So she tried one of the tunnels and saw it branch into dozens of other tunnels. She tried another, finding even more options. In her mind, the metaphor shifted until instead of tunnels, she saw a huge bank of tubes lined up like a honeycomb — a warren for yellow-and-black striped flying rabbits with wings and stingers. Her mind flew to one of the cells, found it filled with metal. She went to another and found the same.
 

She pulled back, hovering. This was strange. The rabbit warren and hive constructs were usually adequate. Brains were complicated, but in the end they were just big computers. Yet Crumb’s mind was so much more complex and so much more secure than she was used to. She couldn’t burrow her way in, which was how hacking normally felt to her. It was shocking, really. Leah figured getting into Crumb would be like pushing through mud. Her concerns, now that she was in, revolved around a fear that the warren tunnels might collapse under pressure, not an inability to get in or to find the correct path among hundreds or thousands.
 

She told her mind to fly out, to tap at the metal filling one of the tunnels. The metal was impassible, the ground around it hard. So she saw herself scratching at it, forging a new path, trying to dig around the metal representing Crumb’s mind’s protections. The dry earth wouldn’t move. So she doubled her effort, mentally freeing her next-level hacker’s tools, and scratched at the dirt with a giant claw. But the earth still wouldn’t do more than sift away, so Leah switched to a kind of explosive ram and struck at the tunnels. Immediately, the metal started to twist inside the holes, bending the entire network. It was like she was trying to punch through an unbreakable metal can, but rather than puncturing through, her efforts were denting it instead. It was like trying to remove a screw and stripping its head — her own attempts to free the screw rendered removal impossible.
 

Alarmed, Leah pulled all the way back and opened her eyes. Crumb was still quiet in front of her, the plugged-in Hat on his head. She tapped him on the shoulder. He turned.
 

“Who are you?” she said.
 

“Crumb,” he answered.
 

“Who else? Who were you before you came to us?”
 

“Crumb.”
 

She looked at him for a long moment, trying to understand what she’d seen. His mind was, without question, the most complex she’d ever run across. It seemed to be filled with bulletproof security, but the moondust fugue was as intuitive as it was analytical, and something inside Leah told her she wasn’t just experiencing security. It was as if Crumb’s brain itself was incredibly advanced. She might have understood if she were trying to hack the mind of a genius — Leonardo DaVinci, Albert Einstein, maybe Noah West — but this was
Crumb
. She’d known him all her life, and he was out of his fucking gourd. So it
had
to be just security, but even that seemed odd. Why would anyone go so far to protect such a simple mind?

“Crumb,” she said.
 

He continued to look at her, still surprisingly compliant.
 

“I can’t get in. I’d have to be more forceful to do so.”
 

“We can’t see the Wizard? The wonderful Wizard of The Beam?”
 

“What did you say?”
 

“Oz,” said Crumb.
 

“Your mind is locked down,” she said, blinking away the strangeness. “I can’t get into it without hurting you.”
 

Crumb looked earnestly back at her. “I want to see the Wizard.”
 

She reached for the connector on Crumb’s Hat, but his hand beat her to it. He put one hand over the port, then his second hand over Leah’s as her hand touched his.
 

“I want to see the Wizard,” he said, his voice soft, almost pleading.
 

“Do you understand what’s happening here?”
 

Crumb said nothing.
 

“I’m afraid I’ll kill you. I’ve never seen anything like it. Your mind seems to have a crumple zone — an intentional failure point. If I can’t unlock what’s in there, the system seems to have decided it would rather collapse than allow me in by force.”
 

“I want to see the Wizard,” Crumb whispered, now sounding desperate.
 

Leah pulled her hand away, leaving the connector in Crumb’s Hat. Then he looked forward again, waiting, as if they hadn’t just spoken, but Leah couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d just had one of the most meaningful exchanges anyone had ever had with Crumb. Nobody
ever
knew what Crumb meant or wanted, but right now, Leah felt like she did.
 

“Okay,” she whispered.