Operation Red

Operation Red

  Carol Thomas

  Copyright 2012 Carol Thomas

  ISBN 9780473223403

  SCIS 1581608

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  24 July 2029

  Being thoughtful

  19 June 2029

  A great idea

  30 June 2029

  Recruitment

  5 July 2029

  Sabotage

  24 July 2029

  CyberCity responds

  25 July 2029

  Operation Red

  28 July 2029

  Prologue

  24 July 2029

  Ariel rode past the target and into Simcard Park. He parked the tri-bike and walked casually back. The building was an early 21st century concrete and glass rectangle. Unremarkable then; less so now.

  He turned off the street, onto a path made from recycled tyres. His destination was now obvious to anyone watching. He knelt before the building’s front door, pretending to adjust his skywalkers and trying to catch any movement on the other side of the tinted glass. The interior was lit, but he could see very little, until a shadowy figure materialised. It yanked the door open and a hand shot out, grabbing Ariel’s jacket and dragging him in.

  ‘Urgh!’

  ‘Quick, get in! Out of the light!’

  The two figures lurched away from the closing door and sped through the lobby.

  ‘This way!’

  They bolted past the reception desk, down a gloomy corridor towards a bright exit sign. The leader ducked sideways into another corridor, then another. Finally, in a large, dimly lit room, filled with silent workstations, the leader stopped and exhaled loudly. A third figure joined them.

  ‘Excellent,’ Ariel muttered. ‘Excellent.’

  He gripped the arms of his conspirators.

  ‘Lead on. It’s up to us. We are going to fix CyberCity good and proper.’

  Being thoughtful

  19 June 2029

  Ariel stared out the window of the classroom, silently counting all the shades of green he could see in tree and grass and bush and hillside.

  7, 8.

  Subtle differences. Sun and shadow on the same hill creating blue greens and yellow greens and brown greens. Natural greens, not reverse processed.

  The Digital Delights course had ceased to delight Ariel very early in the school year. The teacher droned on.

  ‘... pixels, and a breakthrough in photography. Digital imaging caused the steady disappearance of film cameras beginning in the late 1990s. Since then, pixels ... ’

  Even the novelty of having a real teacher in the classroom didn’t appeal to Ariel today. Teachers appeared once a fortnight, burbled for a lesson, then passed students back to their usual cyberlessons. Despite the promise of creating photographic delights and experimentation with digital technology, the lessons were always a dull and predictable homage to the wonders of digital photography.

  Ariel turned his attention back to admiring green and the more interesting task of light and colour research.

  9, 10, 11. Jade

  Tiny differences. The grey green, celadon.

  ‘Light was no longer important in photography,’ said the teacher.

  12. Wrong.

  ‘Pixels and dpi became important. Light could be created. Artificial light could be made to look like daylight. Images could be taken in any light, then manipulated to show daylight, neon, solarisation, tungsten lighting—whatever was wanted. Any image could be manipulated. Anyone could be a photographer.’

  Anyone could take photographs. 13. Dark green on the shaded parts of the hill, almost black.

  ‘Digital technology made everyone an artist, and photographers could do wonderful things such as... making waterfalls that dropped hundreds of feet from a spaceship into a desert, or making the sky pink instead of blue.’

  Ariel snorted. He mouthed ‘bosh’ to his best friend sitting next to him. John was frowning, staring at the teacher, and Ariel was surprised when he spoke.

  ‘Excuse me, Mr Silver’.

  The teacher paused his prepared spiel and looked blankly at John.

  ‘The sky actually was pink. When the Earth was created, you know the Big Bang and all that, the sky was pink,’ John said. ‘For millions of years. It turned blue later.’

  ‘When the world became green,’ added Ariel in support of his friend. ‘Photosynthesis.’

  ‘Yesss. Thank you, John. And Ariel. Do you have a question?’

  ‘Um, I’m not sure, sir. It was just an observation.’

  ‘Oh,’ said the teacher, perking up. ‘Just an observation. A pixellated moment. Well, stay on track then, there’s a good lad.’

  He dismissed John with a shoulder turn.

  ‘Now, pink skies, hmm, where was I? Oh yes. I have some images here to demonstrate the artistry of digital imagery.’

  The teacher caressed the control panel of the classroom’s Photomegastore machine. The students fixed their stares on their desk computers.

  Ariel returned to the natural world beyond the classroom. The pale grey clouds had disappeared, and bright sunlight was changing the palette on the hill.

  14. 15

  Bright lime. Nice.

  ‘But…’ John was still hanging in there.

  Ariel turned to his friend, grinning. He winked encouragement.

  ‘Mr Silver, what’s the point of creating an imaginary pink sky? Why would you want to do that?’

  The teacher’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. He took a breath.

  ‘It’s just an example, John,’ he answered. ‘To show what can be done with digital imaging. To show how wonderful technology is.’

  Wrong.

  ‘But, why? Isn’t that just playing with techno? Well, so what? What’s it for? It doesn’t create anything worthwhile.’

  ‘It’s artistically worthwhile, John.’

  ‘Maybe,’ John muttered, unconvinced. ‘I don’t think it’s artistic. I just feel that’s it’s a waste of time. It’s just fiddling. How is that art? I couldn’t give a bosh about a lot of ‘art’ created by ‘photographers’. The exhibition we looked at last lesson was crap.’

  John looked around the class for support.

  ‘Crap p p p ,’ someone giggled like a gun.

  ‘Fiddlin’.

  ‘John—’, began the teacher.

  ‘Hey, Mr Silver,’ said Ariel. ‘If you took your pink sky, and put it into a science book, to illustrate Earth’s early days, then it would be useful rather than whimsical, eh? Not artistic, but scientific.’

  ‘Ariel—’

  ‘Fiddlin’!’

  ‘Yeah,’ John said wearily. ‘Haha. Fiddling with technology, playing with it to keep doofuses like you amused.’

  He swung in his chair and faced the heckler.

  ‘Yeah, pink skies are great. Brilliant. Especially when you’ve got half a brain. Isn’t technology wonderful?’

  ‘So wonderful indeed,’ said the teacher, happily misunderstanding, ‘that film ceased to exist! It was completely overtaken by new and exciting digital technology.’

  ‘Wrong,’ said Ariel.

  Damn.

  ‘Ariel?’ asked the slightly confused teacher. ‘You said?’

  ‘Just a thought that slipped out, sir,’ said Ariel. ‘You can still buy film. I think the police still use film. The exposure and development can’t be altered like digital film can. A crime scene needs to be photographed exactly as it is, no techno tampering allowed.’

  ‘Hmm.’

  ‘For use in court.’

  ‘Yes,’ said the teacher. ‘I see. Thank you, Ariel.’ He jabbed a button on the Photomegastore machine and an image of a chainsaw on the moon appeared on the students’ computers.

&n
bsp; ‘Focus please, class. By the early 21st century, technological advances—’

  ‘Mr Silver? Sorry. I…’ John faltered.

  The teacher gulped and looked forlornly at John. He paused the Photomegastore control.

  Spit it out, mate.

  ‘I know it’s a wonderful thing, being able to manipulate images and do lots of amazing photographic things. This class wouldn’t exist without digital photography, heh heh.’ John looked around, but his classmates were fixated on the paused image in front of them.

  ‘But, is it art?’ said Ariel.

  John nodded.

  ‘Look at that, as I see you all are,’ said John.

  He pointed to the paused image.

  ‘What I’m trying to say is—so what? Who cares about a chainsaw on the moon? Not me. It’s the biggest load of—’.

  ‘Or me,’ added Ariel.

  The teacher’s eyes grew wide.

  John smiled at his friend.

  ‘The real world is amazing,’ said John. ‘Real colours, real shapes. We never look at them in this class.’

  He looked around for support but found only Ariel nodding agreement. John batted on.

  ‘Look. We take photos, then we change them. Digital trickery. All we ever do is fiddle around with images and muck up shapes and colours, but we don’t create anything really good. Maybe that’s what I mean—oh man, I don’t know what I mean,’ he finished lamely.

  ‘I’d like to run up that hill and take photos of trees,’ said Ariel. ‘Then display them without any help from Photomegastore.’

  Several students gasped.

  ‘They’d be rubbish,’ someone offered.

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Now, now,’ said the teacher. ‘My word, you’re thoughtful today, John. Most unusual in a student.’

  He restarted the show.

  John slunk in his chair and frowned straight ahead.

  ‘Now, where were we? Technological advances in the Photomegastore forerunner, Photoshop, led to…’

  ‘I hope not,’ muttered Ariel.

  John caught the soft words and shrugged.

  They walked to lunch in silence. A stray weesoccer ball rolled across their path and John picked it up and flicked it back onto the school’s artificial turf without a glance at the players. They left the field’s edge and strolled up to their elevated lunch spot. Both boys were already into their lunch packets.

  ‘Don’t know what’s the matter with me,’ John said suddenly. He pulled a handful of leaves from a tree, shredded them and dropped the shreds on Ariel’s head as they walked.

  ‘Hey—’

  ‘Going on about—what? I don’t even know. And did you see how everyone just shut up and let me hang myself?’

  ‘I tried to help,’ said Ariel.

  ‘Mmm.’

  ‘I did. I don’t think they got what you’re on about. Silver didn’t get it.’

  ‘What am I on about, Ariel?’

  ‘Questioning the system,’ Ariel answered promptly.

  The hill got steeper.

  ‘What you’re on about, John, is us thinking technology is so fabulously brilliantly wonderful that, that …that’s all there is to being alive.’

  ‘I am?’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Ariel. ‘Technology sucks our human spirit, we’re slaves to it. It makes our art. It gives us food. And, as we can see in our fellow students, it is taking away our words. Our humanity is getting crushed under pink skies.’

  ‘Sounds like that old film,’ John said idly.

  ‘1984? Kara and I watched that last week.’

  ‘No, the time travelling one with the bad androids, where computers take control of the world and crush people under their metal feet. Is Kara coming up for lunch?’

  ‘Terminator,’ stated Ariel. ‘Yeh, she had to go to the office first, something about paperwork.’

  ‘Terminator, yeah,’ said John. ‘The end of people.’

  ‘People think that film is a comedy now, ‘cause our androids are totally tame. Hahaha. How could that ever happen? A conscious machine that wants to terminate us? That’s impossible. Aargh! People are so dopey, I can’t stand it.’

  ‘That film is scary. The technoggins say we were almost there just before the Great Crash. Almost at the point where computers could think.’

  ‘You and I, John, we see that computers could take over. They’ve already made us soft in the head, cause they run CyberCity. They’re really in charge. Not having to do much, not having to think, that’s making people stoooooooooopid.’

  ‘Well...’

  ‘If machines start to think, we’re history. They’ll squash us like bugs.’

  ‘We’re top of the food chain, Ariel.’

  ‘Like bugs. Crushed. Gone.’

  ‘It’s not that bad.’

  ‘Bosh,’ said Ariel darkly. ‘It could easily be that bad. And you know it.’

  ‘I don’t,’ said John firmly. ‘You’re so dramatic. All I meant was that I wanted to do a bit of real photography, and I don’t want to look at any more crappy images of chainsaws on the moon etcetera. Swap you that ham sandwich for a cheese one. I was raving in class, I don’t know why.’

  ‘That wasn’t raving. You wanted to know something. But, my friend, questioning is not encouraged, it’s so unusual that you looked like you were raving.’

  ‘Sounded like raving.’

  ‘Smelt like raving.’

  ‘It was raving!’ laughed John as he poked Ariel in the chest. ‘And you know it.’

  ‘Yeah, all right,’ said Ariel.

  ‘Now, what about that ham sandwich?’

  ‘It’s not real ham,’ said Ariel, handing it over. ‘It’s hamster.’

  ‘As if it would be real ham. I don’t know anyone rich enough to have real ham in their lunch,’ said John. He started on Ariel’s sandwich. ‘Cheese hasn’t changed much in thousands of years. Mum says I really liked it when I was little, but yuk, I don’t now. Blahck! She hasn’t caught up with me yet.’

  ‘Cheese is one of the few real foods left,’ said Ariel.

  Kara appeared at the top of the hill and sprawled beside them.

  ‘That’s true, Ariel, thank you genetic engineering. Hi, John.’

  ‘Cheese is still made from cows,’ she said. ‘It hasn’t been created in a lab. And what is real anyway?’ she said.

  John rolled his eyes.

  ‘Not ham,’ Ariel said gravely. ‘Not any more.’

  ‘And not photography, ‘said Kara. ‘I heard you were thoughtful in Digital Delights, John. Good on you. There should be more of that.’

  ‘He’s a ruminator,’ said Ariel.

  ‘Speaking of thoughtful, I’ve made a decision and I have an announcement. I’m off! Out! Away!’

  ‘What?!’

  Ariel coughed on his sandwich.

  ‘I’ve got the school leaving papers in my bag, signed and sealed. Friday’s my last day with you guys. I start work at the First School on Monday. You ok, Ariel?’

  ‘We thought you were joking,’ Ariel breathed, still coughing up bread. ‘You’re really leaving school?’

  ‘Yep,’ said Kara. ‘All arranged.’

  ‘And you’re going to work for Timbo? That man is—’

  ‘A clown, yes, I realise that John.’

  ‘Wow,’ said Ariel. ‘You’re really doing it.’

  Kara nodded happily.

  ‘I’m so bored here, Ariel. You know that. John speaks out with a thought and it’s all over school by lunchtime. What kind of pathetic environment is that?’

  ‘Pathetic,’ agreed John.

  ‘I mean, all our friends are nice enough, but, y’know, they’re just…nice. You two are the only ones here who have a personality and an engaged brain,’ Kara said.

  ‘Thanks,’ said John. ‘Hey. You did say “engaged”, didn’t you Kara?’

  ‘I’ll miss seeing you guys every day. And lunch at our special lookout spot,’ Kara laughed. ‘We’ve been on the edge of
school for a while.’

  ‘Oooh, a pun,’ said John.

  ‘We’ll see each other though, won’t we?’ said Kara. ‘Lots.’

  She looked at Ariel.

  ‘You’re still really pinged off about the school canning music classes, aren’t you?’ Ariel said.

  ‘Yeah! Aren’t you?’ said Kara. ‘How can a school that specialises in media studies not do music? When they talk about multimedia and mixed media now, it means microchips with everything. Lessons here are becoming all technology and business. Training for a soporific workplace. I don’t want that. I want music and art—what culture exists without them?’

  ‘Yeah, but to leave? When you’re so close to graduating?’

  Kara put her arm around Ariel.

  ‘Impetuous,’ she agreed. ‘But I feel really good about it, Ariel. Really good.’

  ‘Inuit,’ stated John. ‘Do Inuits have music and art? All they’ve got is ice and holes in ice to fish through and seals and igloos.’

  ‘He’s still thoughtful,’ said Ariel glumly.

  Kara was thoughtful too.

  ‘They probably sing. And have stories handed down. Stories are culture. Culture equals human. Be positive, John. You know I’m right. People without music and art aren’t living. This school is churning out button pushers. Techno servants, changing blue skies to pink for the hell of it.’

  ‘Touché, Kara,’ John said, laughing.

  ‘You know I’m right too, don’t you Ariel?’

  ‘Yeah, I guess I do.’

  ‘That’s why John’s a ruminator,’ said Kara. ‘This school is bosh.’

  ‘I know that too, but I don’t have the guts to do anything about it,’ said Ariel sadly.

  ‘You’ve got guts,’ Kara said supportively. ‘You’re working up to a statement.’

  ‘But you’ve got there already,’ said Ariel. ‘You’re actually doing something.’

  Kara nodded.

  ‘Leaving.’

  She leaned back on the grass and her smile got bigger. She sat up and put her arms around the boys.

  ‘Last week, when Timbo came up to school and talked to us in careers about working with little kids, I thought—great! A light went on, Ariel. Little kids have energy, they’ve got creativity, and they still have crazy ideas and crazy thoughts. Hell, they’re thoughtful every day. So I went and saw Timbo at his First School, and asked him for a job.’

  ‘And you start next week,’ said Ariel.

  ‘Impetuous,’ said Kara.

  ‘Timbo didn’t mention music and art though, did he?’ said John.

  He frowned as he tried to remember the clown’s careers talk.

  ‘The First School has got to do that stuff doesn’t it?’ answered Kara enthusiastically. ‘I’m going to help them draw and paint and bang on drums. I’m going to be a nurturer of young minds, a—.’