Ragnarok Conspiracy

By Rob J Meijer

The Copyright Wars, started by a quantum-blockchain-heist, have ended with the creation of the dangerous Debrisphere, so has the age of communication, as has the age of both conventional and cryptocurrency.
In the post-war world where printing-base is the new currency, a young forensic scientist travels to the moon setting out to once and for all debunk moon landing hoax conspiracy theories. What he finds on the moon though, ends up uncovering a conspiracy that goes much deeper than anyone could have ever imagined,

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rob J Meijer
• Release date: Jun 4, 2018
• ISBN: 9789082348729

Rob J Meijer

Rob is a multidisciplinary engineer with a focus on information security, data engineering, applied mathematics, cryptography and software engineering.In 2013 Rob added the writing of short science fiction stories to his already long list of interests that includes nutritional science, anthropology, power lifting and public speaking on geeky subjects.

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Prologue

1

Dakila

Manila

June 17 2027

'What a way to spend my 17th birthday!' Dakila thought to himself.

Until yesterday his simulated single ladies had been steadily pumping money into his accounts. But today, with that latest anti AI release, Dakila had to spend hours on end running his virtual ladies in sync-mode, just to keep his targets from dropping out and moving on.

Dating sites are like that. Lose their attention and they move their main focus to new potential conquests. Dakila had too much time invested in his AI farm to let this happen now. Even in sync-mode Dakila needed to be on his toes with regards to the increasingly pervasively used Anti AI. Anti AI software doesn't just detect Artificial Intelligence, it also does a pretty good job cross-correlating discussions to detect scripted or cut & paste attacks by human scammers. Dakila was growing quite weary of trying to come up with different excuses for dropping off the radar for a few weeks. There had to be a way around it, there just had to!

Dakila had never been hit this hard before. Each of Dakila's ladies had its own unique AI. So while anti AI was always evolving, it was quite unusual if an update would cost Dakila more than one sim or more than one target.

Today was different. Fourteen sims and twelve high-value targets lost in just 20 minutes time! To make things worse, Dakila still being in a state of panic had ended up making a number of sync-mode cock-ups that had made him lose another six. 'There has been a death in the family my love', What a stupid twat am I! Shit!. Freaking moron! The first shitty excuse I came up with, and I go using the same stupid line in multiple sync-mode video chats! Fuck!

Dakila, are you coming down, dinner is ready!

In a minute mom, I need to finish this

As he spoke the words Dakila realized he had probably just lost another target. Shit, bloody sync mode.

Mom? What is up Ligaya? Your mother died two years ago! At least that is what you told me.

Could he salvage this target? Damn, Theo was a big spender that the Ligaya simulation had been patiently milking for eight months now. Think Dakila, think, what would Ligaya say?

Don’t be silly sweetie, it is my landlady's mom asking me for the rent again. She is taking care of the building while my landlady is away. She is a really mean woman, but if I call her mom she softens up a bit. I’m afraid she is going to kick me out of the building nevertheless. She really doesn't like me my darling. Could you send me another BareunCoin or two to help me pay my rent this week?

As Dakila pushed the F6 key, the lifelike Ligaya simulation ran through a set of facial movement that had been Dakila’s ticket to success on oh so many occasions.

His AI combined aspects of a disarmingly childlike cuteness with enough of a sexual undertone to render these middle-aged horny westerners completely blind to the small flaws in the AI,

Dakila made none of the beginners’ mistakes like making his sims too hot. No professional fashion models as template; No explicit sexual innuendo. No! Dakila’s sims were designed to be the type of girl that is cute but innocent. Not too innocent, no, and not too young. Don’t want to attract no pedophiles and through them attract coppers.

No, all of Dakila’s creations were based on local women in their late twenties. Add a bit of irresistible naivety and his own special brand of kitten-cute sensuality, and those midlife crisis horndogs would let their guard down just enough to slowly start milking them for BareunCoin. And to be fair, most of them really had it coming. Their ring fingers more often than not showed discoloration and indentations that could only be explained by a wedding band having quite recently been worn on them. No these assholes got what was coming to them, 'Karma, motherfuckers', and if Dakila could make a lot of money by milking them to improve his finance, that was just a nice bonus.

Theo was one of the worst and thus one of the best. Four different sims were milking Theo. Each of the sims got dangled the prospect of romance and even marriage. Theo was clearly working towards a visit to the Philippines next summer, working towards taking advantage of what he believed to be real ladies. He must have thought himself a real player, but all the while the BareunCoin kept flowing into Dakila’s wallets.

Will do my sweet Ligaya; same time tomorrow?

As Dakila tried to come up with the right words to delay the next video chat for a number of days, a pop-up sprang into his screen. No! Dakila shouted out without thinking; Yes, yes, yes! Oh shit!

The puzzled face of Theo staring at him, or staring at Ligaya as far as Theo was concerned. This was big, much bigger than whatever Theo could provide for.

Yes tomorrow is fine, see you tomorrow.

As the face of Theo showed even more confusion now, Dakila ended the video chat and opened his analysis window. YES, YES, I’m the fucking king of the universe. Fucking yes.

Dakila, you remember that we talked about your sexual obsession with sims, don’t you?

As his mom came into his room holding a plate of food. Dakila quickly minimized the analysis window on his computer desktop.

I’m starting to think your father was right about this Dakila. We are sending you to therapy, this is getting way out of hand. Here sweetie, here is your silog. I’ll give doctor Ocampo a call right away, your dad said she does wonders with obsessed teens.

Mo-om, please mom, It is not an obsession and I said I would be right down mom, I turned 17 today, aren’t I old enough now to have earned some fucking privacy?

Dakila's mom turned her head looking at Dakila annoyed and a bit angry with a hint of indignation, but then a huge smile formed on her face;

Happy birthday darling. We will be talking about that potty mouth of yours tomorrow darling. For now, enjoy your silog, Whenever you are done with your sims, come down for some birthday cake, OK?

As his mom left, Dakila reopened the analysis. 'Is this real? If it is, I'm richer than Alec fucking Yi! I need to check against my own block chains. Maybe Mahalia is fucking with me.'

As Dakila started a new analysis using the keys that he had found earlier in a file on the laptop, he had some time to contemplate what was happening. 'If this turns out to be real, who created this file and how did it end up on Mahalia's boyfriend's laptop? And why was the file placed in such a peculiar place? It was almost as if someone had wanted Dakila to find this file.'

'Focus Dakila, focus.' Mahalia had asked him to look at her boyfriend's laptop. A laptop that would not boot up anymore. Damn you Mahalia if this turns out to be your idea of a practical joke. Dakila and Mahalia had been inseparable friends since as long as he could remember. But recently, since Mahalia had hooked up with her 26 year old muscle-brain boyfriend four months ago, they hardly spent any time together anymore. The dumb goon worked for a private security firm and judging from his car and condo, the no-neck asshole was doing quite well for himself. So when Mahalia had asked him to look at Kidlad's laptop, Dakila hadn't exactly been overthrown with joy. Kidlad was a dumbass compared to Mahalia. Why did she have to go out with such a complete moron. But it was Mahalia that asked him to look at the laptop. Refusing Mahalia something? Anything? No, that wasn't an option, ever. 'Let her find out herself. When I'm filthy stinking rich she will see I'm a better man than he is.' Enough distractions, the keys file!

The laptop wouldn't boot for the simple reason that the boot partition contained nothing but a single file named 'private.keys'. No kernel, no bootloader files, no nothing, just the mystery file. This could not have been an accident. No fucking way that Mister Musclebrain had done this to his system himself. But then Mahalia and Dakila used to play innocent practical jokes on each other. Never something like this though. She was not dumb, but not computer minded either. So who had put this file there? Put in a place where it would be found by the first technical person to get his hands on the laptop. Someone had wanted this file to be found. Found by someone other than Kidlad.

A beeping sound and a new popup window announced the second analysis was done.

My God, it is real! Dakila spoke softly.

Dakila had guessed the file could have been a concatenation of private keys and had run a search throughout the system's file-system looking for candidate public keys. And boy did he hit the jackpot. Hundreds of thousands of private keys had matching public keys on the laptop's disk, but that wasn't the most shocking part. The shocking part was the files where these public keys were located. Bleeding blockchains! The run on his own blockchains confirmed his suspicions. The keys in the mystery file were private keys linked to unspent outputs in the blockchain. Currency! Money! Loads and loads of real fucking money! The motherfucking motherload!

No wait, this is impossible, Dakila shouted out in disbelieve, seven hits in my own wallet file? No! What the…?!!

Dakila's mouth dropped open and he looked at his screen with a blank stare and his mouth half open for almost a full minute. A minute that for Dakila felt more like a week. Then clarity returned to Dakila. This could mean only one thing! One explanation only and an explanation that felt almost too far-fetched: Quantum computing! Quantum computing on a massive scale! A fucking quantum blockchain heist!

A motherfucking quantum blockchain heist! Dakila whispered to himself, This is big!

Dakila started hyperventilating. He grabbed a plastic bag. Calm down Dakila you have this!

'Need to move fast! The heist hasn't happened yet, or at least not on a huge scale. You can do this, remember the retirement plans! Fake passports, offshore accounts. Off-grid pacific islands. Mostly everything is in place already. But who is Kidlad working for? People who can pull off a quantum blockchain heist? 'Jesus, Marie and bleeding Joseph, if these guys catch me!' Dakila thought. 'Calm down, breathe, they won't catch me! Need to do this now. Breathe Dakila, breathe. How do we do this? Don't want to collapse the world economy. Don't want to bring the world's law enforcement down on this!'

Filter it! Yes! Only old blockchains and only unspent outputs that have been dormant for more than ten years maybe twelve. Yes, that should do it. Nobody should even notice….

"You can do this Dakila. Don't rush it. Set it up carefully. Retirement at 17! Damn Dakila, you are the king of the universe!"

~

Part One

Beginnings

2

John

Seru Grandi, Curacao,

April 1st 2034

Take that smug grin of your face and go do your chores, Junior. Your dad will be home any minute now.

As John Junior brought the dining utensils to the porch table, his mind drifted off again.

Maruja was two years older than John, not the sharpest tool in the shed, but she was hot. The only sixteen-years-old in John's class and way out of his or any of John Junior’s classmates’ league. At least, she had been before this week. Today John was floating on clouds.

John Junior!

His mom called out as he was still remembering himself and Maruja kissing. Not a regular kiss, but a real kiss with tongues and all.

John William Bridgewater Junior!

At that moment his mom shouted, and as he still tried to hold on to the memory, John looked up. John noticed the blue contours of his mom's slipper hurtling towards his head a fraction of a second before it hit him flat in the face.

Don't just stand there dreaming Junior, go make the table. Now!

The glance his mom gave him left zero doubt, John needed to tend to his chores or risk not being able to sit on a chair without feeling sore for the next couple of days. As John hurried back into the house to get the plates out of the kitchen cabinet, his mom gave him a firm slap to the back of his head. John could never figure out where his mom's hands were coming from. When he looked over his shoulder, mom was still stirring the sugar through the milk exactly as she had been when he had run into the house.

What are you looking at Junior? You want another one?

Mom put down the milk, took a huge butcher's knife, looked John deeply in his eyes, raised the knife high above her head and without taking her piercing eyes from John for even a fraction of a second, blindly and skillfully cut the stick of butter that had been resting on a wooden breadboard into two perfectly equal pieces. John quickly took the plates out of the cabinet and with neither of his hands free, holding a stack of five large plates, John used his head to close the cabinet door.

'Don't look at her,' John thought to himself, 'don't even glance!'

As John approached the door that led to the porch, there was a silhouette that contrasted against the setting sun standing in the doorway.

Dad?

As the silhouette blocked the setting sun, the features of the figure standing in the doorpost became visible. This wasn't dad. The person standing in the doorpost was white, a Makamba? Then John tried to look at his face. While the sky behind the figure standing in the doorpost was too bright to make out all the features, the distinct shape of a cerebral implant stood out quite clearly.

As John realized there was an augment standing in the doorpost, he instantly regretted pledging his allegiance to the New Zion movement. John took a step back in total fear, he let go of the stack of plates in his hands. 'Marie mother of Jesus, they've tracked me down!' John thought. John hadn't considered this scenario. The war between New Zion and New Babylon was raging in Florida and Louisiana, far far away from the southern Caribbean islands. New Babylon itself didn't have any presence here for John to be concerned about. As such, joining New Zion had been more of a political statement, meant mostly to impress Maruja.

'Oh Maruja.' John had been the only Ingless boy in his class. Maruja had been intrigued by the war raging in the north. For her, the New Zion freedom fighters from the northern Caribbean going against the age-old might of New Babylon was an almost mythical struggle. Most New Babylon fighters were Ingless; Caribbeans from English speaking islands in the northern Caribbean, and as such John with his Ingless roots had had that little extra that his classmates didn't have. Not enough though for Maruja to overlook their two year age difference. But what a difference joining New Zion had made for that. After John had told Maruja about his pledge of allegiance last week, John's advances no longer landed on deaf ears. No, today's kiss had shown that John's plan had worked out quite well as far as Maruja was concerned.

But now this? A Quant augment? The Quants and New Zion were allies, at least in the defensive aspects of the war, and very much so in a limited way, but until now, there had been no non-defensive side to the Quants involvement in the war.

As far as John had understood, with the Quants fighting a two-front war with the Ottomans and the GNU defence alliance, the Quants wouldn't want to risk making New Zion a new enemy. If John would have thought there was even the slightest chance of a war between New Zion and the Quants, he would never have pledged his allegiance.

JUNIOR!

His mom had heard the sound of the plates falling to pieces on the tiled floor and had turned. Looking at him with eyes that could scare a raging 700 kg Spanish bull into fleeing like a little mouse from a cat. But when she saw John lying on the floor with fear in his eyes not directed at her but at the door post instead, she turned to look at the door.

The Bridgewater residence I presume? A cold voice spoke.

Who are you, sir, and why in the name of good decency couldn't you have called at the front door? John's mom spoke as she tried to clean some of the dumpling dough from her hands.

I am looking for John William Bridgewater, the augment spoke in a cold hard tone.

It was true, the augment had come to take him prisoner, deliver him to New Babylon maybe. John was afraid in a way he had never been afraid before.

I am sorry, sir, my husband isn't here yet, but if you leave me your info, I will ask him to DM you when he gets home.

We will wait! The augment spoke in a monotone fashion. We will all wait on the porch.

Now listen, Mister John's mom wiped off the remaining dough from her hands on a cloth, something she wouldn't normally consider, grabbed hold of the butcher's knife she had just used so skillfully to cut the stick of butter, and took one step towards the figure standing in the doorpost.

Either your mother didn't teach you no proper manners, or you are just a terribly rude person. Anyhow, Mister, I believe you just overstayed your welcome here, sir, I believe it is time for you to leave.

We will wait! The augment spoke again. This time in a harder more resolute tone, and

as a small swarm of tiny pentacopter drones rose from behind his back into an arch-like formation around the augments head, John's mom realized now why this figure had driven so much fear into her young son.

Lay down the knife and go sit on the porch; we shall wait!

John and his mom had both heard the stories about Quant augments. Drone swarm pilots with brain implants that were capable of commanding a swarm with only their thoughts. Stories about a single augment taking on a whole regiment of swarm pilots and winning.

If only half of these stories were true, John and his mom had zero chance against this augment.

He is looking for dad? As John and his mom quietly but reluctantly complied with the commands of the augment, John tried to grasp this change of events. What had dad done? This couldn't be a coincidence? It was not as if augments were social workers coming over to have a good word with the parents of misguided children, to have a good talk about their upbringing.

No, augments were warriors at best and assassins at worst. The absolute best scenario was that this augment was here to take John's dad prisoner.

As John sat on the porch contemplating all possible scenarios he realized he needed to warn his dad. John started tapping on his watch, typing a short message: 'stay a', as he was attempting to type 'stay away', John felt a sting in his finger. A fly? The pain was excruciating. Instinctively John tried to hit it. Miss, shit! Then a small swarm landed on his watch. Drones! Tiny drones! John's watch started to melt away, and as John realized what was happening he quickly took off his wrist-watch. Acid! Damn!

Don't try to be a hero kid the cold voice of the augment spoke, I have two hundred of these drones deployed in the room your cute little sisters are playing in. Think about that before you try anything else.

John's mom looked at John in dismay, then hit him on the back of his head.

Mom!

John felt helpless, what could he do. John wished he could stop time, keep his father from coming home, but he couldn't. Was this his fault? John almost wished the augment had come for him, not his dad. He couldn't warn him, if he was to speak, the augment would hurt his little sisters. As the minutes went by, John's feeling of despair and guilt grew. He was completely powerless. Where only an hour ago John had felt like a man on top of the world, at this moment he felt completely emasculated. At that moment John noticed his dad approaching.

John thought: 'Dad, please, notice something! Notice I didn't make the table, notice the fear in our eyes!'

Our house so big, you can't find your way to the kitchen? Woman where is me dumpling? Dad spoke in a frivolous and friendly voice with a heavy West Indian accent. Any hint of chauvinistic quality in his words instantly evaporated as a result of the friendly and disarming broad smile that came after them.

Dad should realize how much pride mom always took in having his dinner ready when he came home.

'Dad, think! Something is wrong! Dad, run please?' Oh how John wished his dad could read his mind.

John notices a little bananaquit bird. The happy little grey birds with their bright yellow chests feathers that were so common to the islands. Then John remembered the flies and looked closer at the little bird. Something was off. It was subtle, but this wasn't a bananaquit!

John couldn't hold it in any longer, and without regarding his little sisters John stood up and screamed: DRONE!

At that moment the little fake bird hovered for a split second just in front of John's dad. A split second that for John seemed to take half a minute. His dad's broad smile dropped slightly as he glanced at John in confusion. Then it was as if the bird just disappeared. While John was still startled about the disappearance of the fake bird, he noticed his dad's chest.

A hole as big as a cricket ball!

~

3

Gwen

Boston,

March 18, 2035

I am never going to get my head around this quantum entanglement stuff before next week's exam Ilse said while giving Gwen a worried look, I am definitely not going to get anything above a C for this one

Ilse was Gwen's best friend since not long after they both had started at the university. Just like Ilse, Gwen never really quite fitted in with the rest of the herd. They were outsiders, but both for very different, no even completely opposite reasons.

Most of the students here fell into one of a small handful of social subcultures aligned along political affiliations and social classes. Neither Gwen nor Ilse really fitted in well with any of these groups.

Ilse's mum had been the last president of the former United States of America and after the forced disbandment of the federal republic, the transitional prefect of over forty major east coast conurbations.

President Akira had been quite a controversial figure to start with. Being the first female president to come with a first lady was just the tip of the iceberg. Her running for president had started out as a huge joke, a way to get media attention for the fact that the 2025 Health Insurance Act allowed insurance companies to deny people, working in entire branches of industry, health insurance based purely on a moral framework.

After the revelations by the GNU Defence Alliance however, there was substantially more dirt on any of the viable presidential candidates from the two large parties than on any of the single issue independent candidates. The most politically charged subject regarding her administration though had been the peace treaty with Pacific Union for Patents and Royalties.

Nine of the former fifty states were now official PUPR territory. Quant territory! The former federal government had been disbanded and the remaining forty one states had been divided up into sovereign conurbations existing under the protection of PUPR. A once proud nation was no more. Needless to say Ilse's mum wasn't winning popularity contests for her role in all of this, and by proxy neither was Ilse.

Gwen on the other hand didn't fit in for completely different reasons. Both her father and mother were old-world nobility. Most of the old world nobility were highly thought of by the group that considered itself to be new world nobility.

Her father's side of the family had known quite some scandals and controversy. Gwen's granddad had been quite a scoundrel before he had met her grandmother. Her grandma had been not only a commoner, no, that would have been acceptable, she had been a widow with a young child: Gwen's dad. Gwen might have the proper titles, she didn't have the proper blood.

Ilse, you know you could just ask, right? I will help you study if you want.

Ilse looked at Gwen, I know, but I really don't have your brain Gwen, especially when it comes to math and physics. Quantum entanglement is just ….

As Ilse glanced to her right, she noticed Gwen was no longer walking beside her, she turned and saw Gwen standing frozen staring at something behind her.

"My God, it's Humphrey! Gwen muttered and put her left hand to the right side of her mouth, What in heaven's name is Humphrey doing here? Not now! Not now mom, please!" Gwen spoke in a trembling soft voice, leaving Ilse confused.

What is wrong Gwen? Ilse asked concerned. Who is Humphrey?

My mum's bleeding butler! Mom knows about my exams! She wouldn't forget about that, she just wouldn't! Something is up. Something big is up Ilse, I need to go talk to Humphrey, I'll call you, OK, this is not good.

As Gwen darted towards the slender, well yet humbly dressed figure standing at the main doors, ilse whispered Good luck Gwen.

What the hell, Humphrey?

My lady?

What are you doing here Humphrey? Whatever it is, it is inconvenient! Did mom send you? Why didn't she call first?!

No time to explain my lady, the Baroness gave me orders to pick you up right away. I am so sorry for being this direct, but I need to humbly ask you to accompany me to the car straight away. Transportation is waiting for us at Logan Airport.

"Transportation? What exactly are you trying to tell me Humphrey? I can't go anywhere and mum knows that. I have two exams next week including quantum physics that i really need to study up for. I am not going with you, I can't. Please tell mom I couldn't