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Back The Utopia Experiment Save as PDF
Chapters (84)
  1. Title Page
  2. Welcome
  3. Prologue
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. 57
  61. 58
  62. 59
  63. 60
  64. 61
  65. 62
  66. 63
  67. 64
  68. 65
  69. 66
  70. 67
  71. 68
  72. 69
  73. 70
  74. 71
  75. 72
  76. 73
  77. 74
  78. 75
  79. 76
  80. Epilogue
  81. About the Authors
  82. The Covert-One Novels
  83. Newsletters
  84. Copyright

Smith leaned his head back and managed an exhausted smile. “What would you and I do in a world full of peaceful happy people?”

“God,” she said, actually shuddering. “Can you imagine? Everyone smiling and helping each other out? I’d have to—”

“Jon!” Zellerbach shouted from the back, cutting her off. “Jon! Come quick! Hurry!”

Smith leapt from his seat and ran back to where his friend was gesticulating wildly toward his computer. “What is it, Marty? Are you okay?”

“I’m a legend!” he said. “A god! And I didn’t have to do anything!”

Smith looked down at the photo of a strategically pixilated naked man accompanying a report on CNN’s homepage. The text beneath it told the story of an unknown hacker accessing the NSA computers and putting similar pictures on all the screensavers.

Once again, Fred Klein had come through.

71

71

Granada
Spain

SMITH SLOWED HIS PACE AGAIN, listening to Marty Zellerbach huffing loudly as he crept up the endless set of stairs. Below, the ancient city of Granada stretched into the distance. He kept a watchful eye on the windows in the whitewashed stone buildings on either side of the steps and did his best to turn his face away from the occasional passing pedestrian. So far, things seemed to be going smoothly, but that could all be an illusion. They wouldn’t know they’d been identified until the bullets started flying.

Zellerbach limped up to him, still milking his bullet scrapes, and then stopped in the shade of a fruit tree. The early-afternoon sun had pushed temperatures into the eighties and the forecast was promising another five degrees before sunset.

“You all right, Marty?”

He squinted through the green contacts Randi had spent ten minutes getting into his eyes and scratched like a flea-ridden dog at the fake beard covering much of his face. Combined with the sweat-soaked dress shirt and high-water pants, the disguise gave him a bit of a deranged air.

Not that Smith looked much better. The baseball hat covering his hair had been padded in a way that made his head appear abnormally large and cotton stuffed into his cheeks caused them to bulge noticeably.

An often-ignored fact was that LayerCake constantly attempted to identify people in order to hone its facial recognition software. And while Dresner had been clear that the data collected was immediately purged, it seemed likely that he had the ability to use it for his own purposes. In all likelihood, every Merge on the planet was attempting to find their faces and send a GPS coordinate to their master.

Randi, already at the top of the hill, had gone with her old standby: Muslim. She wore a full headscarf, reflective sunglasses, and a long coat that gave the impression of thirty extra pounds—a configuration that he knew from his own testing confounded the system every time.

“Not much farther, Marty. Five more minutes and we’re there.”