Chapter 13

This chapter is dedicated to Books-A-Million, a chain of gigantic book-stores spread across the USA. I first encountered Books-A-Million whilestaying at a hotel in Terre Haute, Indiana (I was giving a speech at theRose Hulman Institute of Technology later that day). The store was nextto my hotel and I really needed some reading material — I'd been on theroad for a solid month and I'd read everything in my suitcase, and I hadanother five cities to go before I headed home. As I stared intently at theshelves, a clerk asked me if I needed any help. Now, I've worked at book-stores before, and a knowledgeable clerk is worth her weight in gold, so Isaid sure, and started to describe my tastes, naming authors I'd enjoyed.
The clerk smiled and said, "I've got just the book for you," and pro-ceeded to take down a copy of my first novel, Down and Out in the Ma-gic Kingdom. I busted out laughing, introduced myself, and had an ab-solutely lovely chat about science fiction that almost made me late togive my speech!
Books-A-Million"They're total whores," Ange said, spitting the word out. "In fact, that'san insult to hardworking whores everywhere. They're, they're profiteers."We were looking at a stack of newspapers we'd picked up and broughtto the cafe. They all contained "reporting" on the party in Dolores Parkand to a one, they made it sound like a drunken, druggy orgy of kidswho'd attacked the cops. USA Today described the cost of the "riot" andincluded the cost of washing away the pepper-spray residue from thegas-bombing, the rash of asthma attacks that clogged the city's emer-gency rooms, and the cost of processing the eight hundred arrested"rioters."No one was telling our side.
"Well, the Xnet got it right, anyway," I said. I'd saved a bunch of theblogs and videos and photostreams to my phone and I showed them to168her. They were first-hand accounts from people who'd been gassed, andbeaten up. The video showed us all dancing, having fun, showed thepeaceful political speeches and the chant of "Take It Back" and TrudyDoo talking about us being the only generation that could believe infighting for our freedoms.
"We need to make people know about this," she said.
"Yeah," I said, glumly. "That's a nice theory.""Well, why do you think the press doesn't ever publish our side?""You said it, they're whores.""Yeah, but whores do it for the money. They could sell more papersand commercials if they had a controversy. All they have now is a crime— controversy is much bigger.""OK, point taken. So why don't they do it? Well, reporters can barelysearch regular blogs, let alone keep track of the Xnet. It's not as if that's areal adult-friendly place to be.""Yeah," she said. "Well, we can fix that, right?""Huh?""Write it all up. Put it in one place, with all the links. A single placewhere you can go that's intended for the press to find it and get thewhole picture. Link it to the HOWTOs for Xnet. Internet users can get tothe Xnet, provided they don't care about the DHS finding out whatthey've been surfing.""You think it'll work?""Well, even if it doesn't, it's something positive to do.""Why would they listen to us, anyway?""Who wouldn't listen to M1k3y?"I put down my coffee. I picked up my phone and slipped it into mypocket. I stood up, turned on my heel, and walked out of the cafe. Ipicked a direction at random and kept going. My face felt tight, theblood gone into my stomach, which churned.
They know who you are, I thought. They know who M1k3y is. That was it.
If Ange had figured it out, the DHS had too. I was doomed. I had knownthat since they let me go from the DHS truck, that someday they'd comeand arrest me and put me away forever, send me to wherever Darryl hadgone.
It was all over.
169She nearly tackled me as I reached Market Street. She was out ofbreath and looked furious.
"What the hell is your problem, mister?"I shook her off and kept walking. It was all over.
She grabbed me again. "Stop it, Marcus, you're scaring me. Come on,talk to me."I stopped and looked at her. She blurred before my eyes. I couldn't fo-cus on anything. I had a mad desire to jump into the path of a Muni trol-ley as it tore past us, down the middle of the road. Better to die than togo back.
"Marcus!" She did something I'd only seen people do in the movies.
She slapped me, a hard crack across the face. "Talk to me, dammit!"I looked at her and put my hand to my face, which was stinging hard.
"No one is supposed to know who I am," I said. "I can't put it any moresimply. If you know, it's all over. Once other people know, it's all over.""Oh god, I'm sorry. Look, I only know because, well, because I black-mailed Jolu. After the party I stalked you a little, trying to figure out ifyou were the nice guy you seemed to be or a secret axe-murderer. I'veknown Jolu for a long time and when I asked him about you, he gushedlike you were the Second Coming or something, but I could hear thatthere was something he wasn't telling me. I've known Jolu for a longtime. He dated my older sister at computer camp when he was a kid. Ihave some really good dirt on him. I told him I'd go public with it if hedidn't tell me.""So he told you.""No," she said. "He told me to go to hell. Then I told him somethingabout me. Something I'd never told anyone else.""What?"She looked at me. Looked around. Looked back at me. "OK. I won'tswear you to secrecy because what's the point? Either I can trust you or Ican't.
"Last year, I —" she broke off. "Last year, I stole the standardized testsand published them on the net. It was just a lark. I happened to be walk-ing past the principal's office and I saw them in his safe, and the doorwas hanging open. I ducked into his office — there were six sets of cop-ies and I just put one into my bag and took off again. When I got home, Iscanned them all and put them up on a Pirate Party server in Denmark."170"That was you?" I said.
She blushed. "Um. Yeah.""Holy crap!" I said. It had been huge news. The Board of Educationsaid that its No Child Left Behind tests had cost tens of millions of dol-lars to produce and that they'd have to spend it all over again now thatthey'd had the leak. They called it "edu-terrorism." The news had specu-lated endlessly about the political motivations of the leaker, wondering ifit was a teacher's protest, or a student, or a thief, or a disgruntled govern-ment contractor.
"That was YOU?""It was me," she said.
"And you told Jolu this —""Because I wanted him to be sure that I would keep the secret. If heknew my secret, then he'd have something he could use to put me in jailif I opened my trap. Give a little, get a little. Quid pro quo, like in Silenceof the Lambs.""And he told you.""No," she said. "He didn't.""But —""Then I told him how into you I was. How I was planning to totallymake an idiot of myself and throw myself at you. Then he told me."I couldn't think of anything to say then. I looked down at my toes. Shegrabbed my hands and squeezed them.
"I'm sorry I squeezed it out of him. It was your decision to tell me, ifyou were going to tell me at all. I had no business —""No," I said. Now that I knew how she'd found out, I was starting tocalm down. "No, it's good you know. You.""Me," she said. "Li'l ol' me.""OK, I can live with this. But there's one other thing.""What?""There's no way to say this without sounding like a jerk, so I'll just sayit. People who date each other — or whatever it is we're doing now —they split up. When they split up, they get angry at each other. Some-times even hate each other. It's really cold to think about that happeningbetween us, but you know, we've got to think about it."171"I solemnly promise that there is nothing you could ever do to me thatwould cause me to betray your secret. Nothing. Screw a dozen cheer-leaders in my bed while my mother watches. Make me listen to BritneySpears. Rip off my laptop, smash it with hammers and soak it in sea-wa-ter. I promise. Nothing. Ever."I whooshed out some air.
"Um," I said.
"Now would be a good time to kiss me," she said, and turned her faceup.
M1k3y's next big project on the Xnet was putting together the ultimateroundup of reports of the DON'T TRUST party at Dolores Park. I put to-gether the biggest, most bad-ass site I could, with sections showing theaction by location, by time, by category — police violence, dancing, after-math, singing. I uploaded the whole concert.
It was pretty much all I worked on for the rest of the night. And thenext night. And the next.
My mailbox overflowed with suggestions from people. They sent medumps off their phones and their pocket-cameras. Then I got an emailfrom a name I recognized — Dr Eeevil (three "e"s), one of the primemaintainers of ParanoidLinux.
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M1k3y>
I have been watching your Xnet experiment with great interest. Herein Germany, we have much experience with what happens with a gov-ernment that gets out of control.
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One thing you should know is that every camera has a unique "noisesignature" that can be used to later connect a picture with a camera. Thatmeans that the photos you're republishing on your site could potentiallybe used to identify the photographers, should they later be picked up forsomething else.
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Luckily, it's not hard to strip out the signatures, if you care to. There'sa utility on the ParanoidLinux distro you're using that does this — it's172called photonomous, and you'll find it in /usr/bin. Just read the manpages for documentation. It's simple though.
>
Good luck with what you're doing. Don't get caught. Stay free. Stayparanoid.
>
Dr EeevilI de-fingerprintized all the photos I'd posted and put them back up,along with a note explaining what Dr Eeevil had told me, warning every-one else to do the same. We all had the same basic ParanoidXbox install,so we could all anonymize our pictures. There wasn't anything I coulddo about the photos that had already been downloaded and cached, butfrom now on we'd be smarter.
That was all the thought I gave the matter than night, until I got downto breakfast the next morning and Mom had the radio on, playing theNPR morning news.
"Arabic news agency Al-Jazeera is running pictures, video and first-hand accounts of last weekend's youth riot in Mission Dolores park," theannouncer said as I was drinking a glass of orange juice. I managed notto spray it across the room, but I did choke a little.
"Al-Jazeera reporters claim that these accounts were published on theso-called 'Xnet,' a clandestine network used by students and Al-Quaedasympathizers in the Bay Area. This network's existence has long beenrumored, but today marks its first mainstream mention."Mom shook her head. "Just what we need," she said. "As if the policeweren't bad enough. Kids running around, pretending to be guerillasand giving them the excuse to really crack down.""The Xnet weblogs have carried hundreds of reports and multimediafiles from young people who attended the riot and allege that they weregathered peacefully until the police attacked them. Here is one of thoseaccounts.
"'All we were doing was dancing. I brought my little brother. Bandsplayed and we talked about freedom, about how we were losing it tothese jerks who say they hate terrorists but who attack us though we'renot terrorists we're Americans. I think they hate freedom, not us.
"We danced and the bands played and it was all fun and good andthen the cops started shouting at us to disperse. We all shouted take it173back! Meaning take America back. The cops gassed us with pepperspray. My little brother is twelve. He missed three days of school. Mystupid parents say it was my fault. How about the police? We pay themand they're supposed to protect us but they gassed us for no good reas-on, gassed us like they gas enemy soldiers.'
"Similar accounts, including audio and video, can be found on Al-Jazeera's website and on the Xnet. You can find directions for accessingthis Xnet on NPR's homepage."Dad came down.
"Do you use the Xnet?" he said. He looked intensely at my face. I feltmyself squirm.
"It's for video-games," I said. "That's what most people use it for. It'sjust a wireless network. It's what everyone did with those free Xboxesthey gave away last year."He glowered at me. "Games? Marcus, you don't realize it, but you'reproviding cover for people who plan on attacking and destroying thiscountry. I don't want to see you using this Xnet. Not anymore. Do I makemyself clear?"I wanted to argue. Hell, I wanted to shake him by the shoulders. But Ididn't. I looked away. I said, "Sure, Dad." I went to school.
At first I was relieved when I discovered that they weren't going toleave Mr Benson in charge of my social studies class. But the womanthey found to replace him was my worst nightmare.
She was young, just about 28 or 29, and pretty, in a wholesome kind ofway. She was blonde and spoke with a soft southern accent when she in-troduced herself to us as Mrs Andersen. That set off alarm bells rightaway. I didn't know any women under the age of sixty that called them-selves "Mrs."But I was prepared to overlook it. She was young, pretty, she soundednice. She would be OK.
She wasn't OK.
"Under what circumstances should the federal government be pre-pared to suspend the Bill of Rights?" she said, turning to the blackboardand writing down a row of numbers, one through ten.
"Never," I said, not waiting to be called on. This was easy.
"Constitutional rights are absolute."174"That's not a very sophisticated view." She looked at her seating-plan.
"Marcus. For example, say a policeman conducts an improper search —he goes beyond the stuff specified in his warrant. He discovers compel-ling evidence that a bad guy killed your father. It's the only evidence thatexists. Should the bad guy go free?"I knew the answer to this, but I couldn't really explain it. "Yes," I said,finally. "But the police shouldn't conduct improper searches —""Wrong," she said. "The proper response to police misconduct is dis-ciplinary action against the police, not punishing all of society for onecop's mistake." She wrote "Criminal guilt" under point one on the board.
"Other ways in which the Bill of Rights can be superseded?"Charles put his hand up. "Shouting fire in a crowded theater?""Very good —" she consulted the seating plan — "Charles. There aremany instances in which the First Amendment is not absolute. Let's listsome more of those."Charles put his hand up again. "Endangering a law enforcementofficer.""Yes, disclosing the identity of an undercover policeman or intelli-gence officer. Very good." She wrote it down. "Others?""National security," Charles said, not waiting for her to call on himagain. "Libel. Obscenity. Corruption of minors. Child porn. Bomb-mak-ing recipes." Mrs Andersen wrote these down fast, but stopped at childporn. "Child porn is just a form of obscenity."I was feeling sick. This was not what I'd learned or believed about mycountry. I put my hand up.
"Yes, Marcus?""I don't get it. You're making it sound like the Bill of Rights is optional.
It's the Constitution. We're supposed to follow it absolutely.""That's a common oversimplification," she said, giving me a fake smile.
"But the fact of the matter is that the framers of the Constitution intendedit to be a living document that was revised over time. They understoodthat the Republic wouldn't be able to last forever if the government ofthe day couldn't govern according to the needs of the day. They never in-tended the Constitution to be looked on like religious doctrine. After all,they came here fleeing religious doctrine."I shook my head. "What? No. They were merchants and artisans whowere loyal to the King until he instituted policies that were against their175interests and enforced them brutally. The religious refugees were wayearlier.""Some of the Framers were descended from religious refugees," shesaid.
"And the Bill of Rights isn't supposed to be something you pick andchoose from. What the Framers hated was tyranny. That's what the Billof Rights is supposed to prevent. They were a revolutionary army andthey wanted a set of principles that everyone could agree to. Life, libertyand the pursuit of happiness. The right of people to throw off theiroppressors.""Yes, yes," she said, waving at me. "They believed in the right ofpeople to get rid of their Kings, but —" Charles was grinning and whenshe said that, he smiled even wider.
"They set out the Bill of Rights because they thought that having abso-lute rights was better than the risk that someone would take them away.
Like the First Amendment: it's supposed to protect us by preventing thegovernment from creating two kinds of speech, allowed speech andcriminal speech. They didn't want to face the risk that some jerk woulddecide that the things that he found unpleasant were illegal."She turned and wrote, "Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness" on it.
"We're getting a little ahead of the lesson, but you seem like an ad-vanced group." The others laughed at this, nervously.
"The role of government is to secure for citizens the rights of life,liberty and the pursuit of happiness. In that order. It's like a filter. If thegovernment wants to do something that makes us a little unhappy, ortakes away some of our liberty, it's OK, providing they're doing it to saveour lives. That's why the cops can lock you up if they think you're adanger to yourself or others. You lose your liberty and happiness to pro-tect life. If you've got life, you might get liberty and happiness later."Some of the others had their hands up. "Doesn't that mean that theycan do anything they want, if they say it's to stop someone from hurtingus in the future?""Yeah," another kid said. "This sounds like you're saying that nationalsecurity is more important than the Constitution."I was so proud of my fellow students then. I said, "How can you pro-tect freedom by suspending the Bill of Rights?"She shook her head at us like we were being very stupid. "The'revolutionary' founding fathers shot traitors and spies. They didn't176believe in absolute freedom, not when it threatened the Republic. Nowyou take these Xnet people —"I tried hard not to stiffen.
"— these so-called jammers who were on the news this morning. Afterthis city was attacked by people who've declared war on this country,they set about sabotaging the security measures set up to catch the badguys and prevent them from doing it again. They did this by endanger-ing and inconveniencing their fellow citizens —""They did it to show that our rights were being taken away in thename of protecting them!" I said. OK, I shouted. God, she had me sosteamed. "They did it because the government was treating everyone likea suspected terrorist.""So they wanted to prove that they shouldn't be treated like terrorists,"Charles shouted back, "so they acted like terrorists? So they committedterrorism?"I boiled.
"Oh for Christ's sake. Committed terrorism? They showed that univer-sal surveillance was more dangerous than terrorism. Look at whathappened in the park last weekend. Those people were dancing andlistening to music. How is that terrorism?"The teacher crossed the room and stood before me, looming over meuntil I shut up. "Marcus, you seem to think that nothing has changed inthis country. You need to understand that the bombing of the Bay Bridgechanged everything. Thousands of our friends and relatives lie dead atthe bottom of the Bay. This is a time for national unity in the face of theviolent insult our country has suffered —"I stood up. I'd had enough of this "everything has changed" crapola.
"National unity? The whole point of America is that we're the countrywhere dissent is welcome. We're a country of dissidents and fighters anduniversity dropouts and free speech people."I thought of Ms Galvez's last lesson and the thousands of Berkeley stu-dents who'd surrounded the police-van when they tried to arrest a guyfor distributing civil rights literature. No one tried to stop those truckswhen they drove away with all the people who'd been dancing in thepark. I didn't try. I was running away.
Maybe everything had changed.
"I believe you know where Mr Benson's office is," she said to me. "Youare to present yourself to him immediately. I will not have my classes177disrupted by disrespectful behavior. For someone who claims to lovefreedom of speech, you're certainly willing to shout down anyone whodisagrees with you."I picked up my SchoolBook and my bag and stormed out. The doorhad a gas-lift, so it was impossible to slam, or I would have slammed it.
I went fast to Mr Benson's office. Cameras filmed me as I went. Mygait was recorded. The arphids in my student ID broadcast my identityto sensors in the hallway. It was like being in jail.
"Close the door, Marcus," Mr Benson said. He turned his screenaround so that I could see the video feed from the social studiesclassroom. He'd been watching.
"What do you have to say for yourself?""That wasn't teaching, it was propaganda. She told us that the Constitu-tion didn't matter!""No, she said it wasn't religious doctrine. And you attacked her likesome kind of fundamentalist, proving her point. Marcus, you of allpeople should understand that everything changed when the bridge wasbombed. Your friend Darryl —""Don't you say a goddamned word about him," I said, the anger bub-bling over. "You're not fit to talk about him. Yeah, I understand thateverything's different now. We used to be a free country. Now we'renot.""Marcus, do you know what 'zero-tolerance' means?"I backed down. He could expel me for "threatening behavior." It wassupposed to be used against gang kids who tried to intimidate theirteachers. But of course he wouldn't have any compunctions about usingit on me.
"Yes," I said. "I know what it means.""I think you owe me an apology," he said.
I looked at him. He was barely suppressing his sadistic smile. A part ofme wanted to grovel. It wanted to beg for his forgiveness for all myshame. I tamped that part down and decided that I would rather getkicked out than apologize.
"Governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powersfrom the consent of the governed, that whenever any form of govern-ment becomes destructive of these ends, it is the right of the people to al-ter or abolish it, and to institute new government, laying its foundation178on such principles, and organizing its powers in such form, as to themshall seem most likely to effect their safety and happiness." I re-membered it word for word.
He shook his head. "Remembering things isn't the same as under-standing them, sonny." He bent over his computer and made someclicks. His printer purred. He handed me a sheet of warm Board letter-head that said I'd been suspended for two weeks.
"I'll email your parents now. If you are still on school property in thirtyminutes, you'll be arrested for trespassing."I looked at him.
"You don't want to declare war on me in my own school," he said.
"You can't win that war. GO!"I left.