Verifiable

By Ayami Tyndall

"There were lots of twists and surprises along the way; some were really shocking but they felt right. ... The development of the characters and the story was just amazing."

-- Reviewed by Lorena Sanqui for Readers' Favorite, 5 Stars

Welcome to the first Surveillance Peace State

In utopia nothing is unknown. The Cloud sees, records and shares everything. Apps can tell you anything about anyone from anywhere. No secret can be kept, no wrong can be done...except by a Ghost. Invisible to the Cloud and overlooked by humanity, these shadow people lead hidden lives off the grid. Unrestricted by the Cloud, a Ghost is capable of anything, even destruction.

But with their freedom comes the curse of isolation. Trapped on society's fringe, their exclusion from the Cloud also allows others to act against them in secret. A group of Cloud Users, the life of each touched by a Ghost, is following the trail of disjointed memories and faulty recordings. They threaten the fragile existence of the Ghosts, but among the Ghosts lurks the threat of violence and evil, so now these two worlds will clash.

For the Ghosts, it is another round in their fight for survival. For the Users, all they know is now in doubt. To find the truth they will have to see past the Cloud, but what they find there will challenge everything they took for fact about the Cloud, about the Ghosts, and about themselves.

Verifiable
a 95,000 word Science-Fiction novel
by Ayami Tyndall

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ayami Tyndall
• Release date: Sep 8, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466086180

Ayami Tyndall

Born and rooted in California, Ayami Tyndall is an author and computer systems manager. Always fascinated with technology, he is a life-long student and avid reader. He writes to explore how our own inventions reshape us and our world.

Book preview

Verifiable

by Ayami Tyndall

Published by Ayami Tyndall at Smashwords

Copyright 2011 Ayami Tyndall

Cover by Taliesin Tyndall

* * *

Prologue

The young woman with titanium eyes looks on her father's cold body but sees him only in life. Not just as she knew him, but as the world knew him. She sees him as a child, hears his laughter, runs beside him through the snow cloaked valley. She sees him meet Mother, charm her and be charmed himself, and then she watches them make love, and her. She skims through his days, his years. Hears his every breath, sees his every moment.

Then she is stepping away from the casket and she flicks a finger and her vision settles back to herself. Not from her eyes, as a normal person sees, but up and back a bit so she can see herself from behind as she walks down the gravel trail. Her golden locks flow down her back, crowned by a black scarf.

When Ylwa reaches the gathering grove at the end of the trail, she turns and sees herself turn to face the other attendees of the funeral. They have each looked into the casket, whispered a prayer over their friend or colleague or kin, and now shuffle uncomfortably and whisper more to each other. But Ylwa isn't even there anymore. She's back with Father, years ago and continents away. Her hands sway and the vision plays out from the perspective of her own six-year-old face, so she is looking up at her father from among the waves and white sand. It is more perfect than any memory could ever be, and she offers what must be her hundredth prayer that day to give thanks for her Cloud-sight. Without it she would have only a window to see him by, and that is a poor substitute. She only wishes she could feel those waves and that sand again, rough and cold and smooth and hot all at the same time. She swings the vision up and away so she can see herself, eyes as blue as the ocean shining at her father, and she turns up her audio filter until she can only hear the sounds of that beach from years ago.

When Ylwa feels a tap on her shoulder, she realizes she's gone in too deep. She pulls back, lowers the filter, and looks out from her own sockets. Mother, she says, and she flits back through the last ten seconds at high-speed, seeing her mother approach, speak, and then tap her. And then Ylwa is back to the present and hugs her mother with barely a delay.

But it's enough delay for Mother to notice. I miss him too, she says. I was viewing our wedding this morning.

Ylwa smiles into her mother's graying hair. I was watching the night after, she whispers.

Her mother pulls back and gapes at her. You! she scolds, but the motion sets a tear rolling. Your father so loved for you to tell him what you saw.

Ylwa turns back toward the casket, but her vision is there before her shoulders even pivot. She sees her father and silently strips away all the people and the sides of the casket from her vision so she can see him alone. His face is almost perfect, but he was too cold to fix completely. But I never saw, she says, and her own voice is disembodied in her vision. I never saw that he was going to... Her vision flashes and she is watching from the ceiling of a bland little rental. Alone in the room, her father kneels, weeping. He brings his head back, he whispers the words, I still love you, and then his shoulders snap forward and down. His face contorts as the floor approaches, and --

No, says her mother, and her hand squeeze brings Ylwa back. Please, don't watch that, pleads Mother.

Ylwa hugs her again, tucks her mother's head against her neck. Father always said that Jehovah sees only what is of His making. And that is what I see.

But why, rasps Mother. He was so happy.

Ylwa brings her vision home, seeing her mother from her own face, each strand of hair in perfect clarity. Father died by his own choice, to be with Jehovah, she says, although her throat knots with each word. He must've thought he was no longer needed.

Mother begins to cry, and Ylwa holds her tighter. For the first time since the operation, she wishes she could still cry. Please, sobs Mother, just don't watch it. I want you to remember him better than that.

But Ylwa's vision is already away. Back to that rental and at floor level as her father brings his face down into the floor. A droplet of blood flies right through Ylwa's vision point. He braces his hands and lifts his head again. His eyes roll back, and as his head comes down he says, I still love you. But it was the last thing he ever said.

Chapter 1

Francis Dowl stands at the center of the crossing. Streams of people flow past in all directions, a whirlpool of humanity. They tower over him, obscuring everything except the sky and the tops of the tallest buildings. Francis was born with dwarfism, but he's never let it stand in his way, and now he is part of something bigger than the tallest of his fellow men. He lifts his foot and takes the first step into the future.

Virginia's ears start screaming as soon as Francis moves. She watches him on the window, or perhaps through it would be more accurate, since on the screen she sees an image with as much clarity and depth as reality. She taps the air and the view zooms, following Francis as he weaves through the crowd.

Initial direction set, says one of the voices in her ears. Passing data.

Preparing first stage path decryption, says another.

Virginia swings her hands and the view follows, up and back, but still centered on Francis. I'm seeing a body knot ahead, she says. Team five, get a breakdown started.

Rendering now.

The group of pedestrians is highlighted on the window, their bodies glowing as if ablaze. Beyond them glows the ring of the test boundary. It is only a rendering on the window, not actually present in the real world, but Virginia watches it intently. More than two-thirds are gray now, the remainder a deep red. As she watches, the scarlet diminishes. Suddenly the boundary shudders and the crimson section pivots by five degrees. Moments later, the knot of pedestrians changes course, moving nearer Francis and forcing him to alter course by five degrees.

With Francis half-way from his starting point to the boundary, the crimson line has shrunk to less than a tenth of the circle's circumference, and it continues to shrink. Okay, says Virginia, let's get this dotted. Where's it gonna be?

The crowd blooms like a field of stars. Bodies are highlighted through a rush of colors. Slices begin vanishing from the red target zone. Francis hits another knot and turns sharply, but the projection stays ahead of him, shrinking until Virginia has to zoom in to see it. By the time Francis finally passes in front of the printer, there has been a green bar on the screen for some time, as steady as if it were painted there and exactly a body width wide. He steps aside once or twice, but the marker doesn't move, and when he passes through it it fits like a glove.

Virginia's skull reverberates with cheers. Francis hears it as well and he spins, trying instinctively to find the marker not actually there. He waves up a view of his own on a nearby window and watches the outcome. Then he grins, claps his hands and leaps in the air. We did it! he shouts.

Virginia smiles as well. A perfect prediction. Francis himself couldn't have been more sure where he was going. She waves her hand and the window slides along the wall and goes dark. A flick and three more slide up and light, each showing a unique vista. She pinches the air in the direction of one window's corners and pulls. The screen stretches, filling the space and covering the two smaller windows. She flicks and a young man appears on it. Merv, says Virginia, great job.

Ah, says Merv, Virginia. Another moment and then his eyes focus forward on her, in truth on his own window view of her. Yeah, that was fantastic.

How'd the apps do?

Misty all the way. We had Francis buffered back six years. Most of the crowd only needed a few months.

Awesome. How was integration with the other teams?

Perfect, says Merv with an affirmative gesture. Hell, I think we're almost ready. If we had enough apps right now, we could probably do at least crowd dynamic predictions globally.

Virginia whistles as she thinks about it, but then shakes her head. Let's not get ahead of ourselves. We'll get to tomorrow one way or another, so if we're going to predict it let's do it right. How'd our star do?

Sophia? asks Merv. Beyond expectations, as expected. Once Francis was buffered, she had his purely personal actions decrypted for hours ahead.

Virginia nods. A little more training and she'll be able to tell us what he'll have for breakfast by the time he's had dinner.

Or him us, says Merv somberly.

What? says Virginia, eyes wide in mimicked surprise. Don't like your future being public knowledge too?

He tilts his head and grins wickedly at her. I just don't want all my wonderful plots exposed.

Until you enact them, you mean, she corrects with raised finger.

He shrugs. Eh, maybe I'm plotting to destroy the planet. Then no one could ban me for it.

Ah, go and share it! she says with a waggled hand. She ignores his triumphant smirk. That was the last test scheduled for a couple hours, so I'm gonna log and get some work done.

Kay, says Merv. Don't stay up too late.

Virginia rolls her eyes. It's morning going on midnight here.

Oh. He glances to the side, listens. Damn, you are cruising. Don't stay up too early, then.

Smartass. Virginia waves away the call. Her chatter comes back on, announcing the morning events in her ears. She turns in her chair and waves over her shoulder and the window crawls into view, bending with the walls until it is in front of her. She waves two fingers past her ear, dimming her chatter to major alerts and work related updates. A volcanic eruption has started on schedule in New Zealand and Asian-on-blonde is trending. She needs to get on this.

Are Melina and Takoto up? she says to the empty room.

Yes, says the voice of an app. It plays off the inside of her skull, but she can feel the sound getting mushy. She fishes out a plastic tube from her pocket and snaps it open. The fine silver powder seems likely to float away at a glance. Virginia raises the tube to her nose and snorts, first in one nostril and then the other. She blinks, sniffs, and waits a moment for the nanites to settle. Once they have, refreshing the population in her body, she can feel the audio playing more smoothly.

Call them, she says.

Immediately, says the voice of yet another app. She's going to have to talk to her app managing app about not switching servers so much, even if it is cheaper.

The window blinks on. Through it Virginia can see a hall. Far away from her, it is early there and many of the walls are still occupied. Each section of wall, with companion ceiling and floor, bears its occupant's belongings and taste in colors, making the hall a quilt of cultures, styles and fashion statements. On the wall section Virginia is looking at, tiled in blue and hung with sculptures, the largest bed has been extended. The sheets have been thrown aside and the mattress is hopping. Melina sinks in with every thrust of Takoto's hips. Both moan with every motion.

Oh, good lord! says Virginia. Takoto grips the bed and goes in so hard Melina slides back. They started without me! She watches them for another few moments, then her eyes narrow. Is this commissioned? she asks.

Yes, says her app.

Lemme see the scooper, says Virginia. A second, smaller window slides over. On it is a wall in a hall half way around the world. No bed here, but a chair. On it sits a young digger, much like Virginia. He's watching a view of Melina and Takoto and his hands dance across his lap. Virginia snaps her fingers and a side view comes up. A close-up view of Melina and Takoto. She watches as the view moves to follow their motions, to show everything, but it all makes her scowl. Amateur! she says, crossing her fingers to tag the comment and hoping the digger hears it and that it ruins his day.

Start querying fuckers. I need to get some work done this morning.

Dumping now.

Virginia turns back up her chatter and fingers through views on the window while she waits. Sooner than she expected, the app comes back on with a catch. Virginia listens, smiles, and then places the call.

* * *

He bucks and she dips and he grips and she pulls and he comes and she arches and Virginia watches from a chair just out of spitting distance from the bed. Her mentor had always given two pieces of advice: think with your balls, and don't get hit in the face by any bodily extremity-slash-expulsion. Virginia watches calmly, but she must admit that it's hard not to get pulled in to the excitement. In fact, she's a bit impressed by their enthusiasm. She'd caught these two just before they were going to lie down, and they'd been hesitant to be shared for the first time, but they've clearly gotten into it now. And this energy isn't new; while they've never been professionally shared before, their escapades have gotten a fair few passing views. Virginia is just glad to be the first to get them properly tagged in the Cloud. As she works, her hands aren't confined to her lap. She keeps a window up showing the view she is composing, but she barely has to look at it. Ninety-percent intuition, ten-percent finding at least one bulbous beauty; that's sex digging. And where others just do it from anywhere, Virginia tries to always be on-site for her view compositions, to really get a feel for the location and the people.

Once the session is finally finished, all three involved, and Virginia hopes a few pleased viewers, fall back and bask in the temporary exhaustion. Well, she wasn't blonde, so it probably won't hit the big trends, but it'll still get some views and hopefully a few gratitudes. It's nothing like her New Years share. Watching it again, she's sure the body count was constant, but she could also swear the number of penises kept changing.

Ah, and her head chimes with the first thanks payment. As always, there's a slight delay between completion and payment, but a longer delay usually means Virginia did a better job. Provided any gratitudes come at all. And a fair number more do, and the two she shared are pleased to receive their cut. They'll probably be seeing a few more as some specialists come across her view for some particular fetish, but Virginia knows that a sex share rarely lasts longer than the act itself.

Except for that damn share by Yamatogawa! Two months, and it still pops up in the trends every few days! And any time she --

Virginia's mind halts. She looks around herself and realizes that the two fuckers are staring at her. A glance at the window shows the scowl that startled them. Probably think Virginia must be contemplating something very inappropriate, to think so intently and not speak it into the Cloud. She smiles at them and starts outputting her monologue on the quality of modern pornography. They smile and relax back into the bed.

Once everyone has gotten their breath back, Virginia says her goodbyes and leaves the orgiarium. She passes by two other beds in use, but neither one is being shared. But then there are always more fuckers than diggers, or else there would have to be a serious population problem. Passing down the central corridor, she stops at the entrance to the printer room and gestures for the fashion chatter. When she hears the latest trends she almost screams. She's in through the door in an instant, back hunched and arms wrapped around herself on her way to the nearest available printer.

She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a piece of folded graphene composite. It unfurls into a square as wide as her forearm, light but stiff. She speaks her commands and the air above the folder fills with a field of holograms. The day's newest shirts float there. She pokes one and it fills the whole space. She flicks it around, examining the design, and pulls at one edge to stretch it to get a better look. Then she calls for a model and a projection pops up of a woman similar to herself wearing the shirt. Not a computer projection, but an actual rendering of a real woman wearing the garment.

Okay, says Virginia, the color's fine, but gimme a model with a better build match. The hologram vanishes and is replaced by another, darker skinned than Virginia but with, unfortunately, smaller breasts to better represent Virginia.

Finally satisfied, she flicks the shirt again, this time toward the printer. The machine comes alive at once, tubes and syringes whirling in the domed chamber to lay down loop after loop of synthetics. Before Virginia's eyes a new shirt forms from a web of loops so minuscule it looks like fine silk.

Just in time, Virginia remembers that she'll have to pay for the shirt. She quickly pulls her current shirt, a hideous light, peach colored sweater with flared sleeves, up over her head. She shoves it down the parsing chute and gets the chime of her matter lease being ended just in time for the new shirt's lease to chime in. She pulls out the garment, a stylish light, mango colored sweater with flared sleeves. Crisis averted.

On her way out, she has a tomato slice printed. People often stare when she eats tomato slices straight, but she loves the crispness of the gelatoid frame, the slurp of the bubbles of suspended tomato juice. The puree filling seems extra fresh, so she grabs a plate of slices to go.

Back in her room, Virginia waves over a chair and sits to finish her snack. Once her fingers are licked clean she spins to face the outside wall. She raises her open palm past her face and the shutters track her fingers, uncovering an old-style see-through-glass window. Outside, the Atlantic swirls past like boiling broth. Every few moments a ring rushes past as the worm pulls its way across the ocean. She squints, watches for the rings, and just catches the glint when the neutron-locks cycle for the next swing.

The water grows cloudier, but also lighter, until in a great display of splashing water the worm bursts out of the sea and onto the coast, continuing without pause along the endless line of rings. And as soon as they are out of the water they are surrounded by buildings built along the track. Just ahead, Virginia can see the curve of another arm of New New York. Old New York still hasn't been fully parsed for recycling.

The worm starts to slow for a stop. Virginia turns away, finding the cityscape far less interesting without motion blur. A chime sounds in Virginia's head. She answers the call on a window.

Virginia, says Gil. Good time?

Sure, nods Virginia. She waves over a box and puts her feet up. What's floatin'?

Need your help, says Gil. I'm moderating soon and I want you on as an opinionator.

Oh? says Virginia. What's this about? You know I only have one area of expertise. Gil nods. Well I hope this isn't another open-and-shut rape vote.

Gil shakes his head. No, this one's...stickier. No clear signs of rape, no clear signs of false allegations, and...

What? demands Virginia, her eyes beginning to wander toward another window. Then they snap back when Gil vanishes, replaced by a view of a teenage boy and girl, 14, looking dour. Virginia frowns. Shit, Gil, how can it not be clear if somebody fucked two kids?

Gil returns on another window. It's not clear because the kids fucked each other.

Virginia sits bolt upright. What, it was just the two of them? Gil nods. Then who's the accused?

Both, he says.

Virginia swivels and leans forward to stare at him on the window. Gil, don't make me dump the shares on this. You're convincing me to opinionate, remember?

Gil holds up his palms in a plea for peace. Okay, okay. Here's the story: the two kids had sex, and they both enjoyed it unconditionally. They also both agreed unequivocally and there is no obvious sign of coercion.

Then why the assembly? asks Virginia.

The parents, says Gil, and Virginia almost groans. Hers say he raped her, and his claim she seduced and raped him. Each wants communal punishment against the other child.

Virginia leans back and rubs her eyes. Gil, Gil, Gil. You had to bring this to me? This isn't just gonna be a punishment vote, but an actual morality vote. I'm just a sex digger.

Exactly, says Gil. If the people are gonna vote on this, they need opinions from people who know sex and lust.

Opinions?

You're not the only one. I've got four other sex diggers. Virginia stares. This has gotten popular, explains Gil. The whole affair is already going viral.

Virginia leans back again. I dunno, Gil. I've got a lot on my plate already.

She can just see him shrug. Okay, he says. I guess I'll have to make do with Filly Holland, Susan Michaels, Ali Riffard, and Yamatogawa.

Virginia pops up like a spring. Her eyes go wide, and then narrow. I'll do it, she says.

Good, says Gil through a smile. Assembly starts in ten minutes.

And when'd the two kids do it? asks Virginia.

'Bout an hour ago, says Gil.

Hm, strike while the iron's hot, I guess. Okay, I'll see you in ten. She starts waving and five new windows slide up with relevant views.

First she watches the two teenagers as they had sex. On the window, the two roll and entwine in a perfect rendering of what they'd done. Clumsy, awkward, and not worth sharing. But it did get shared, but not by either of these two. It was a friend of theirs, who called but wasn't answered so looked in on them just as they were stripping each other. Then he shared it, and by the time the two were done they were half-way viral. It'd spread so fast that it propagated right into the parents' chatter before their nanny apps even knew what was going on.

Quite the surprise in their feed. Virginia smirks at the thought. Their first reaction had been to call for punishment of the sharer, but there was naturally no support for banning someone for sharing what he found in the Cloud; that nonsense stopped before Virginia was even born. So, with their children's fuck flashing through people's ears the world over, they fell back to old reliable: blame the other guy's kid. And with the share so popular that the teens were getting gratitudes, enough support materialized to call an assembly.

Well, whether they wanted it or not, these two are celebrities now. Virginia will have to find some more youthful fuckers for her next couple shares.

Famous or not, it was a short encounter, so Virginia goes over it twice more, but it seems completely vanilla, so she starts digging back. The two have been friends for years, so they've had lots of encounters. Virginia renders a few, watching as if out of a window on a nearby building as the two skim a shared chatter, surf the printers, neglect their schooling, and even share a first kiss. There aren't any other sexual encounters, but she does find that both had occasionally mumbled the other's name while masturbating.

By the time the ten minutes are up, Virginia has seen much of the last week of their lives. With nothing exempt from the Cloud, she was able to see it all. Now she waves up the assembly and awaits her call.

The window expands to its maximum, but even then the view is like snow; tiny tiles fill the window, each the face of someone participating. And they're getting smaller as more join. This has gone viral. But then, they are dealing with teen sex, which seems to be a matter of interest hard-wired into humanity.

When the designated second ticks in, Moderator Gil appears on the window. Hi and thanks for joining this assembly, he says to everyone participating. "I think everyone knows what's going on, so I'll be brief: this is a dual-case, with Mister and Missus Lee and Mister and Missus Davidson each calling for punishment of the other's child due to inappropriate sexual behavior. After an hour of yelling at each other, the two parties have both requested that their accused be banned from all novelty printers, recreational facilities, and, and I quote, 'any place with a bed large enough for two', for the span of two weeks.

Before the public vote is taken, I have invited an authority on matters of sexuality to share her opinion.

An authority? Virginia waves up a window. Damn him! Virginia hadn't checked Gil's claim; she's the only one he invited!

Please welcome Virginia Crossroad-Marcus.

She is smiling when people start viewing her, but her mind is filled with thoughts best left out of the Cloud. Hello, she says. Like my good friend Gil, I'll be brief. I'm sure you all watched the key incident already, some probably more than needed, so I'll just share a few snips I've composed. She flicks out the collection of views of the two teenagers. "In my humble opinion, this sexual encounter was purely consensual, and I think most will agree with me. That takes care of the more serious question of rape, but leaves us with the far trickier issue: punishment for inappropriate sexual behavior. I can hear that many of you think these teens shouldn't have been involved in any such behavior. But ask yourself this: do you disapprove of these teens having sex, or of any teens ever having sex? It is an important question, because to vote because of the former is to affirm the latter. Condemn these two children and you condemn all early bloomers and curious teens for all time. And maybe you should. Maybe this behavior is inappropriate. If so, ban them both and plan on banning more.

Or maybe this is something completely different. After all, countless youthes lose their virginity every day, every hour, and every last one is recorded in full-definition. I could fill my days sharing those views. So what's different here? Nothing, except that this particular case has been widely seen. So this isn't about sex at all, but about watching it, about knowing about it. If that is a problem, what do we do? We can't stop the Cloud from recording these or any couplings, so maybe we should do the next best thing: ban anyone who shares it.

There is silence as Virginia's words sink in, bouncing across the world from ear to ear. Then she continues: "But why stop there? Why not ban anyone who views this content. Mark it as unviewable and have apps monitor it. If someone looks at it, ban them, maybe even for life.

Or, and this she says with a casual shrug, "or just let it be. We all know everything we do is recorded, so why should