Angel Face

By Davide Bertolini

In 2021 a monster solar flare caused a gigantic geomagnetic storm that shut all satellites down. Internet and everything related to it goes down too for the following four days. Due to energy overload, power grids and phone lines stopped working in most areas. Companies kept their gates closed, banks put their shutters down and supermarkets were overrun by people. Airborne traffic was blocked and public transports suspended. Traffic lights shutting down caused incidents and distress worldwide. Casualties were reported everywhere. It took a few months, but everything went back the way it was. But not for everyone. Many lost their loved ones and their faith in technology together with them that fateful day. Crypto values and all virtual-related goods lost all their worth. Several companies failed to keep their investors and went bankrupt. The entire world economy suffered a heavy blow. Closing the stock market did not prevent a the second world economic crisis of the new millennium from happening. From that moment on, the incident has been recalled as The Big Flare. A social movement called No-Tech was born from the malcontent of the masses. Gaining followers all around the globe, it preached for a world without technology. An isolated part of the movement went even further, targeting companies and electronic stores with acts of vandalism, violence and sometimes outright terrorism. Alongside the birth of the movement, one company rose from the ashes of the incident: Vespertech. They provided a safer, securer, more reliable internet system than ever before. It soon became one of the richest companies in the world. Fourteen years later, in a small town pub, Detective John Collins is drinking a pint of his favorite beer. He gets a call from the station. Mr Ramos Fizz has been found dead in his house. From the very beginning, it is clear to John that this is not a common case. Little he knows he will soon get involved into something much greater than himself. With the help of a young intern, John has to overcome his rejection towards technology in order to try solving the case. Politics, virtual reality and investigation collide into a structured plot full of unexpected events and complex characters.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Davide Bertolini
• Release date: May 24, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463079911

Davide Bertolini

Hello, my name is Davide Bertolini and I was born in 1988 in a small Italian town called Sassuolo. During and after graduation I lived and worked in both Scotland and China for about five years. I traveled more than thirty countries (still counting) and I like stories in all kind of forms: movies, books, comics, videogames etc. Since I was little I liked to play my own stories in my head. So in 2018 I decided to take a gap year to write my first book, travel and make other dreams of mine come true. Even if just one person will like my book, I thought, it will still be a success to me.

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Angel Face

Copyright 2019 Davide Bertolini

Published by Davide Bertolini at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter_1

Chapter_2

Chapter_3

Chapter_4

Chapter_5

Chapter_6

Chapter_7

Epilogue

About_the_author

Connect_with_the_author

Tuesday September 14th, 2021

It was sudden, unexpected, abrupt. Nothing you could predict on a lazy Tuesday afternoon. It went down, completely. During the first three hours, the situation remained calm. Call centers were assaulted by the few who still had a line-phone. In the following four hours, a considerable amount of concern started circulating among the population. Since the situation was still unclear, panic was contained. Only around eleven at night an official government statement was released on the radio and the few TV channels still broadcasting:

‘All satellites are down. The internet is down’

A monster solar flare caused a gigantic geomagnetic storm bringing all satellites down. From that point on the situation degenerated by the hour. Due to energy overload, power grids and phone lines stopped working in most areas. Companies kept their gates closed, banks put their shutters down and supermarkets were overrun by people. Airborne traffic was blocked and public transports suspended. Traffic lights shutting down caused incidents and distress worldwide. Casualties were reported everywhere. Newspapers sold like they hadn’t in years. Governments encouraged citizens to keep calm but no one knew for how long this situation could have lasted. As panic spread throughout the world population, reports of casualties kept increasing by the minute.

Finally, on the fourth day, small satellites were launched into orbit restoring basic global communications. It took a few months, but everything went back the way it was. But not for everyone. Many lost their loved ones and their faith in technology together with them that fateful day. Crypto values and all virtual-related goods lost all their worth. Several companies failed to keep their investors and went bankrupt. The entire world economy suffered a heavy blow. Closing the stock market did not prevent a the second world economic crisis of the new millennium from happening.

From that moment on, the incident has been recalled as The Big Flare.

A social movement called No-Tech was born from the malcontent of the masses. Gaining followers all around the globe, it preached for a world without technology. In a number of countries it even took the form of a political party. Some followers chose not to depend on devices or services related to virtuality anymore. Others went as far as neglecting any kind of electronic device. An isolated part of the movement went even further, targeting companies and electronic stores with acts of vandalism, violence and sometimes outright terrorism. The movement grew year by year, enlisting around 10% of the first world countries population in 2028. The percentage remained stable since then.

Alongside the birth of the No-Tech movement, one company rose from the ashes of the incident.

A new, safer system had to be provided. People were afraid to lose access to their virtual possessions again. Another issue related to the management of personal information had to be addressed, its exchange without the users' permission was a hot topic even before The Big Flare.

Jintang Li, the young owner of a successful mobile app development company in Shanghai, took interest in the situation. He approached the issues from a different perspective. Instead of making the system more secure for the user he wanted to put the user at the center of the system. If every person had its own independent server, no one would have needed to worry about data leaks or a system shut-down no more. The flow of data and personal information had to be reversed towards the user. To accomplish this, the whole system of data exchange between users had to be rethought and a new device was needed to replace and surpass the current generation of cell phones, without compromising its portability. Since the server would have had to process only one user at the time, Li didn’t see the task as impossible.

The second step was to find a way to bypass the satellites. The device had to connect to a different signal, transmitted by a different emitter. One idea was to replace satellites with flying-high drones. They were much cheaper, quicker to dispatch, easy to upgrade and could reach any part of the planet. The problem with the drones was the battery life, too short to provide a successful service. Also, Li doubted the possibility for them to be accepted globally. He needed something simpler, wider. The answer came to him one day, visiting his grandfather deep in the countryside of China’s Gansu region. The old man, over eighty years old, still tended a little vegetable garden behind the house. In doing so, he listened to the radio. That’s when Li remembered: during The Big Flare the radio signal was the only one still working. That was the answer he was looking for. The system had to work over radio signals, like phone roaming. The problem was that these channels could not sustain the large amount of data they would have been required to transmit. Once again, Li needed to think outside of the box. ‘What if the device was not only connected to the signal but could also repeat, spread and amplify it?’ He thought ‘The more users in an area, the stronger the signal’

Li finally had a complete project on his hands but the task required time, effort and fundings. His company was doing well, but not enough to turn his ideas into something solid. Finding an investor was not an easy task, many saw his ambitions as little more than a joke. A system reinforcing privacy could have never been promoted by the Chinese government. He soon realized his project could not see the light in his home country.

When, about a year in the project, a notorious US tech company contacted him, Li had almost lost hope. They heard about his project and they thought it was anything but a joke. They wanted him to sell his project for a significant amount of money. Li refused, he wanted to develop the device and the software himself under his own company. After a long negotiation, they agreed with him following the project on one condition, both the device and software had to be developed and released under their name. At that point, Li knew very well he had no choice but to leave his home to see his project come to life. If this was the chance he was given to realize his ambitious dream, he was going to take it. Li moved to California in 2023. After two years of hard work, the first prototype of Mobile Server came to light. There was no way to predict the global public’s response to this novelty piece of technology. For this reason, it felt safer to release the device under a brand new company name.

On the 4th of March of 2025, Vespertech Llc was born.

Thursday September 8th, 2035

_____________________

6:14 PM, Blue Blazer Pub

Tears of water were dropping off the edge of the small rooftop covering the pub’s back door. Slow, rhythmic, inevitable, the drops felt distant from the restless rain beating on the city.

Like every evening, John was sitting on the back door’s steps with a cigarette in one hand and a pint on the other. Rain always gave him a comforting sense of melancholic sadness. The perception of time slowing down under its silencing sound made him feel safe. Didn’t matter which problem John was having that day, the one before or the following, rain was going to fall anyway. The rain didn’t care about his problems. Maybe they were not so important then. Maybe he didn’t have to worry that much.

We spend our days rushing between family, work, chores, friends and ourselves. There’s no time left to think. The reason and necessity of performing these actions are often lost in the process. We end up confused, overwhelmed by our life and its problems we can’t solve. Like a spider web, the more you move the more you get trapped into it. We fail to realize is that we are the spider getting trapped in its own web. Getting a forty-hours-a-week-job, earning money, buying things you don’t need, getting married, applying for a loan, buying a house and a car to drive to work with so you can pay for it. Is it all so…necessary? Is it how it has to be? Is it what we live for? Thinking is dangerous, it makes you realize things. Things are scary. But thinking is also necessary, it helps us in solving our problems. Sometimes we forget we can do that. All it takes is to stop for a second and think about it. Why is it so hard to find the time for it? When we find it, we ask ourselves why we don’t do it more often but soon after we forget about it once again. Maybe we like being trapped in our spider webs after all. If you can’t move, you don’t need to think about what to do. You don’t need to take decisions. No responsibilities. No mistakes. No failures.

But John was a simple man. At this point in his life, he didn’t care about any of this. All he wanted was to enjoy his pint-and-cigarette moment in peace before going home and end another pointless day.

The back door opened. A big man with a Hollywoodian black beard, slicked back hair and very hairy arms appeared behind John. A black, adherent t-shirt hiding his prominent beer belly in vain.

Collins, your daughter called Said the man She said the station tried to contact you. They want you to go to #47 Manhattan avenue as soon as you can

John took one last sip of cigarette and inhaled the rest of his beer in one breath, then he stood up. He went back into the pub, dropped his glass and a bunch of notes on the bar then left the place without saying a word.

Why does his daughter call you instead of calling him? A customer sitting on the bar asked the bartender. He had a couple of empty glasses on the side and a half full one in front of him.

It's not the first time. He doesn’t have an MS Said the bartenderBut I saw him using an old cellphone once. Looks like he’s not keen on the new models

He’s not one of those No-Tech people you see on TV, isn’t he? Said the man with a grimace of disgust.

I don’t know, I never heard him talking about politics The bartender replied But he comes here almost every day...and he pays. That’s as much as I care

The man shook his head looking straight through his glass.

...Jack Normandy has it right...No-Tech are nothing but fuckin' terrorists! I really hope he’ll win the next elections. Sure he has my vote!

The bartender knew the kind very well. These were the people keeping the business going, he could not afford to ignore or disagree with them.

Too busy feeling sorry for themselves, lonely customers don’t realize they are the first not willing to listen. The bartender becomes a figure, an object, a tool. They don’t even intend to have a proper conversation, they just want to expel their thoughts like they are too much of a weight to bring back home.

The bartender didn't care about politics, but he liked John. They never talked much but he had always been a respectful and nice customer, which wasn’t a given.

He’s a quite talented detective He suddenly added I heard it from his colleagues. He notices...perceives...'things' in people that others don’t

Whatever Said the bigot customer, without taking his eyes away from his glass Pour me another one

____________________________

6:37 PM, 47 Manhattan’s Avenue

Outside the townhouse, agent Rossini was looking for signs of forced entry. He was a short chubby man around fifty years old, grey hair, clean-shaven. His jaw was as squared as his moral integrity. He recognized right away John’s car parking in the distance. He felt relief and yet disappointment. He was still driving one of those carbon fuel only models. Orlando blue metallic convertible 2014’ Ford Mustang GT, long bonnet, muscled sides, short tail. The car was shining clean, not a single scratch on the entire body.

A tall man in his early forties with short blonde hair, a receding hairline and a scruffy beard came out from the car. Despite his fit body was now only a memory trapped in old some photos, John was still looking good for his age. He was wearing a long light beige trench coat, a light-blue shirt and some grey jeans he wore all week. The pair of worn out brown leather shoes he was wearing someway fitted the outfit. He looked like a cosplay of a 1980’ movie detective. Attractive, in his own sloppy way.

Although he parked only a few meters from the house, John was soaked to the bone by the time he reached the porch. On his way noticed all the houses around the quarter shared the same design: one hundred and fifty square meters of wooden structure covered in white plaster. Two stone pillars sustained the porch and the dark-grey tiles roof had solar panels on it.

I’m not sure It’s still legal to drive one of those things Said agent Rossini, when John was close enough to hear him But it’s nice of you to finally delight us with your presence, Collins

It takes some effort to find gas, but it never lets you down Replied John, lighting a cigarette.

And where the hell do you still find those disgusting things? You are a weird fuck Collins

John looked the agent straight in the eyes as he took a deep drag on the cigarette.

"Weird fuck detective Collins, please He said, blowing a big cloud of smoke in Rossini’s face So you wanted me here just so you could offend me or something actually happened?"

Rossini, with a disgusted look on his face, waved his hand trying to push away the smoke.

Mrs. Mary Pickford comes home from grocery shopping around five in the evening. She finds her son, Mr. Ramos Fizz, dead on his chair. His face is still contracted in a grimace, like he felt intense pain. There’s no sign of breaking-in or wounds on his body

Natural causes? Suicide? Doesn’t sound like anything so unusual

Yeah that’s what I thought as well, but commissioner Waltzing seems to have a different idea. That’s why she asked me to call you

The distance sound of a helicopter was getting noisier by the second.

What about the father? John continued.

Mr. Sloe Fizz passed away last year

I see...do you know anything about his personal life?

The only thing I know is his age. He is...was, thirty-one years old. Caucasian. We didn’t have time to ask Mrs. Pickford many questions before your arrival. But you can ask her for more details yourself if you like, she’s inside

John put out his cigarette and discarded the end in his portable ashtray before entering.

The house had one small garage, one bathroom, a couple of bedrooms and a room which was both kitchen and living room. The minimalistic style of the exterior did not reflect the style of the interiors. A large Persian carpet decorated the center of the main room wood look-alike tile floor, abstract paintings and family photos garnished the walls, antique-looking drawers stood next to orange and violet neo-modern sculptures. Around the end of the last decade, it became a trend to mix modern art and antiques. The more random the match, the better. The odd dueling symmetry of the old meeting the new, the dark embracing the bright, a melting of the opposites into peaceful harmony or, more often, incomprehensible chaos.

The sound of the helicopter felt now very close, like it just landed on the nearby street.

Mrs. Pickford was sitting on the couch by herself. With a tissue in her hands, she was sobbing. In a bedroom, on the opposite side of the living room, the dead body of her son was still on the chair covered by a blanket. Full of cables, computer devices and monitors, that room looked nothing like the rest of the house.

John was about to approach the miserable woman when three tall, bulky men dressed in black suits entered the house. A fourth thin, short and hunchbacked man with a blue polo shirt and thick glasses was with them. He had shoulder-length grey hair laced into a ponytail and a goatee. He looked much older than he probably was. Hiding behind the three men in black, he kept his look at the floor like he wanted to avoid any unnecessary human interaction.

We’ll take it from here, detective Said one of the three bulky men, then he took out a National Security Investigation Bureau badge from his jacket and flashed it on John's face. Behind the man's large shoulder John could spot agent Rossini entering the house as well.

I was about to ask some questions to that woman sitting there. It won’t take long Said John, without paying any attention to the man’s badge.

Detective, we require you to step aside right away. From now on this case is not under local police jurisdiction anymore

Come on Collins, let’s go… Said Rossini, testily.

It wasn’t clear if he was more annoyed by the national security agents or worried about John's possible reaction.

Look, I don’t know- John's index was already pointing at the man's chest when a female voice John knew very well came from the other bedroom, interrupting him.

Collins! Are you deaf? The agent said this is not under our jurisdiction anymore. I've just been notified of the same as well. Leave it. And please come to the station right away. I need to talk to you

Then the woman stormed off without giving John the possibility to reply. John knew very well it was less than pointless to debate commissioner Waltzing. She looked even more pissed than he was.

She had darkish skin, deep blue eyes hidden behind an oversized pair of thin glasses, long straight blond hair and little sharp teeth. Her wide shoulders covered by a tight-fitting blazer were a memento of her Olympic swimming champion past. No skirt for the commissioner but a pair of long suit pants and eight centimeters heel shoes. She and John had almost the same age.

John gave one last intimidating look at the National security agents before exiting the house. As he was passing by the hunchbacked man he glimpsed the logo ‘Vespertech’ on his polo shirt. He didn’t give much attention to it at that moment. Under the falling rain, he ran towards his car and headed for the police station.

_____________________

7:50 PM – Police Station

When John arrived at the station Commissioner Matilda Waltzing wasn’t there yet. The building had two floors, the second being only an elevated corridor with a couple of rooms on each of the four sides. The commissioner office was at the left bottom corner of the second floor. He decided to sit in her office, waiting.

White, almost empty and shining clean, that room always made John uneasy. A black, uncomfortable chair faced a very well organized wooden desk. A laptop in the center, a tissue box on the left, a pen and a paper notebook on the right. A slightly more comfortable chair stood behind the desk inbetween two flags, the police department and the state one. A little file drawer on the right side corner of the room and a bonsai plant were all the remaining furniture the office had. Waltzing was a dedicated commissioner to both her team and the country.

John was more of a solitary person, he could not empathize with this side of her. He respected her very much, but devoting your own life to the country was a concept out of his cognitive reach. Nations are abstract ideas you pay taxes to, which are rarely spent in your favor. And yet, when you are old or ill, you are on your own. He shared the same feeling about religions, sports teams, music genres or any other peer group. The sense of belonging to any of these groups or categories felt stupid to John.

When people feel part of something they feel protected, important, powerful. They feel threatened and fear the one who is outside their group. We wish to be unique, but we dislike the one who's different. Isn't it an interesting paradox?

Lost in his own thoughts, only twenty minutes after he entered the room John noticed the muddy prints his shoes left all over the floor. Panicking, he grabbed some tissue from the table and started wiping the floor. The more he moved around, the more he tried to clean up, the more the mess he was making. In that instant, Commissioner Waltzing entered the room. She stopped and looked at him, kneeling on the floor in the middle of the huge mess of mud and tissues. John was staring at her, still, like a cat in front of car headlights. He was uncertain if playing the I’m sorry card or the It wasn’t me one.

I'm...It wasn't...

It didn't come out as smooth as he wished.

The Commissioner look was somewhere inbetween I lost hope a long time ago and I’m not even surprised. After a few seconds of silence and shame, Waltzing went sitting on her chair without saying a word.

…So…you wanted to talk to me? John asked, hiding the tissues in his pockets and going back to his chair.

The commissioner took a deep breath.

I want you on this case

John's face couldn’t look any more surprised.

It doesn’t take a genius to understand what is going on here She continued And what I saw on that recording scared me enough to not wanting the NSIB to put this entire story under the carpet. Did you notice that awkward man among the agents? I bet he works for Vespertech. They arrived on the scene not even an hour after we did...It’s clear they were informed about the murder before we were. There’s no other explanation. No way they could reach a small town like ours in such a short time….but how? Who informed them? There is only one possible explanation...pretty clear, right?

The image of the awkward man suddenly reappeared in John's mind. He had a blurry memory about a logo on his polo starting with the letter V. Could it be the company Waltzing was talking about?

Yeah...no. I’m sorry, what recording? And what’s Vespertech?

Damn it, Collins. Sometimes you sound like a time traveler from the past. Vespertech is a multinational company, father of the Sensory Mobile and Interlife system. They developed the first Mobile Server about ten years ago...

Oh yeah...Interlife...it must be that thing my daughter can’t stop blabbering about...and the Sensory Mobile is that ‘phone’ implanted in your brain, right? I know more than you think

Waltzing’s right eyebrow raised higher and higher at every word.

If by ‘that thing my daughter can’t stop blabbering about’ you mean an augmented sensory virtual reality, and by ‘phone in your brain’ you mean a digital sensory transmitter, then yes, you know what we are talking about...the point, Collins, is that Vespertech is an economic giant with roots spreading everywhere, even into the government. We can’t investigate this case. If they find out, they will shut us down

I am…even more confused now. If we can’t investigate on them…why do you want me to follow this case? I understand nothing about this stuff, why would I be your pick?

You are not the most suitable, in fact. You are the only suitable one. You are the only one out of the system, Collins. Despite Vespertech claim to observe total privacy over the Mobile Server system and its clients, I bet they could track any user's activity. See what he sees. Hear what he says. This is just speculation, of course. But if it proved true...do you understand the consequences? In order to cover this story, I’m sure they would be ready for anything. You are the only one in the entire station without an MS, Collins. They can’t track you

Yeah Yeah, I got that. Although I’m still missing a piece here...what does Vespertech has to do with this case? You don’t think Fizz died of natural causes?

The recording I mentioned before...when Mr. Fizz died, he was logged into Interlife. Throughout his SM we managed to retrieve a recording of the last moments he experienced before death. Unfortunately, the last minute is as much as we could access in the short time we had. It’s very hard to extrapolate data from a personal SM without Vespertech’s authorization. Also, not many cases like this one happened before, so there's no defined law regulating this kind of situations. Causes of death or injury were always delivered from the environment the victim was in. But after watching the recording... I don’t think this is the case...

John rarely ever saw the commissioner speaking in such a doubtful and worried tone. She always seemed so confident, so sure about herself that even a tiny back-down moment looked like a fracture on a sculptured face.

So what you are saying is that...he died because of the game?

It’s not a ‘game’ Collins...and I don’t know. It shouldn’t be possible but...that recording...

May I see it?

The recording? Unfortunately, we don’t have it anymore...officially

And...unofficially?

"Unofficially, our new technical