Back at her terminal, Margarth put her strategy into action. She planned to create numerous simultaneous strikes by mooching on random computers. She was banking on the fact that computers were not inherently creative and were therefore likely to use analogous patterns of algorithms for the firewall and its defence mechanism. An analysis of the algorithm which the cloud employed to combat the attacks could perhaps shed light on the rules inherent in the firewall.
After writing the virus that would allow other computers to do her bidding, Margarth sent it out embedded in an innocuous email promising a promotional rate for genetic engineering for an unborn child ('Enjoy three physical traits for the price of one! Click on this link to claim your offer now!').
The plan worked with a charm, although there were some nail biting moments when Margarth fretted over whether the cloud would discover the common link between the myriad computers. Studying the steps which the cloud took to deal with the marauders, Margarth started to have an inkling of how the multiple firewalls were connected and communicating with one another.
Together with the cryptologists on Bacchus' team, Margarth soon made short work of the firewalls and she swiftly extracted the database from the cloud before exiting unobtrusively. A cryptologist was dispatched to update Bacchus of the triumphant news, but while everyone else was celebrating, Margarth, rendered uneasy by Bacchus' previous volte-face, inserted a discreet tracker in the database. The tracker would remain hidden, secretly storing information on the location and access details of the database, until unlocked with the correct authorisation sequence. Bacchus soon appeared beside Margarth's terminal. Giving the precious document a quick once-over, he thanked everyone for their unstinting hard work.
"He means we can tell our families we're back from our business trip," one cryptologist called out amid much merriment and back-slapping.
As the cryptologists filed out, Margarth noticed Bacchus removing the hard disk from her terminal. "So what's going to happen to the file? You're going to destroy it, right?"
Bacchus completed what he was doing and stared at her, unblinking. The air of menace which had previously lain camouflaged for the most part sloughed off its disguise and became unnervingly palpable, causing Margarth's hairs on the back of her neck to rise. "I thought, after what you said about how people should have the freedom to dictate their own lives," she said, her voice wavering, "you would destroy the file."
"You are so innocent, child, and young in the ways of the world," Bacchus murmured chillingly in her ear. "This database is worth millions, and I intend to get my hands on those millions."
"So all this talk about returning people's freedom to them was merely for show," Margarth sneered.
"What can I say but welcome to the real world," said Bacchus, as he busied himself with packing the hard disk into a briefcase lined with slate-grey foam with an external casing of reinforced steel. "And now," he said, snapping the buckles of the briefcase shut, "I'll have to love you and leave you."
"Not so fast." Margarth's words stopped Bacchus in his tracks.
"What do you mean, you interfering child?" Bacchus' nostrils flared in anger and his missile of a retort splattered the area above his upper lip with globules of saliva.
"In the spirit of personal freedom, I feel that I'm in no position to dictate to you what you should or should not do with the file but I thought I should let you know I've left you a little present," Margarth said. "The file which you're packing so carefully contains a monitoring device. I can track it wherever I am, so if the thought of killing me or Ren ever crosses your money-obsessed mind, remember my calling card. Oh, by the way, it's also tied to my online presence, so if I ever go offline (and I never do unless I'm dead), my little baby will cause the file to self-destruct. Oddly enough, I believe in the principle of the Alternative, even if you don't. I think I may have a go at changing the world myself. I'm going to leave with Ren now, you needn't see us out."
Margarth slipped out of the room and went in search of Ren. She found him engaged in a boisterous game with Alex. Pulling Ren aside, she quickly updated him on the Alternative being nothing more than an elaborate money-making scam and impressed upon him the urgent need to leave.
"What about him?" asked Ren, gesturing at Alex, "we can't leave him here when everyone's clearing out."
"Nooo, we can't," exhaled Margarth. "Let's bring him along. Your mum is a big softie, perhaps you can convince her to adopt him!"
"Great idea, Margarth," said Ren.
The mellow evening sun dipped close to the horizon and amidst the long shadows, three figures could be observed, two taller ones flanking a shorter one, walking with hope towards a new and better world.
+ + THE END + +