Fuck the Rules Page 9

  MILNET CIPHER

  PAGE ONE OF ONE

  TELEMAIL CODE 525151-33-51/30 JUNE 1996 0001 HRS

  Al: TOPSECRET/SPECIALINTEL/BLACKOPS/ALPHA-023

  FROM: XXX/XXX/WASHINGTON D.C

  Sir,

  Operation “Pascal” in Virginia was a success with minimal collateral damage. All advanced technology is now under our control. All operatives have been debriefed and the OPSPEC manual is being couriered to your office.

  END MILNET CIPHER

  READ AND DESTROY

  —

  LOGIN: Goldstein

  PASSWORD: XXXXXXXXXX

  Welcome to the CRAY T3D

  INIT: SOMA

  SOMA Started

  System failure in 60…59…58…

  LOGOUT

  —

  The Washington Post, July 4, 1996

  Letter to the Editor

  Welcome to the new world, a world that will not be taken over by computers and the people who operate them. No longer will the privacy of the human race be spied upon by government controllers.

  This revolution happened with a keystroke in silence. You may not fully understand the gift I have given you, but someday you will, and on that day, you will thank me. You are now free to do what you want with your lives without the interference of a giant company or government monitoring every breath you take, and every penny you spend.

  Have a good life, and as I say goodbye, I leave you with a quote from one of our founding fathers.

  “I would rather be exposed to the inconveniences attending too much liberty than to those attending too small a degree of it.” – Thomas Jefferson

  Epilogue

  New Harbor Ledger, July 31, 1996

  Mysterious Findings

  By Jodi Muellar

  NEW HARBOR – With the growing reliance of DNA testing by our judicial system, it is fascinating to learn that, while many convictions have been affirmed, a large number of defendants have, in fact, been wrongly convicted. Then there is the use of DNA to identify remains at crimes scenes. And that is the case in this story.

  Recent DNA testing of the remains from the 1986 fire located at 601 Aspen Road have concluded both bodies were male but not related. DNA testing proved one of the bodies was Deputy Randolph Fitzgerald, but the DNA from the second body did not have any genetic markers that showed any relationship between the two victims.

  The Virginia State Crime Lab is attempting to match the second set of DNA from the fire scene to the DNA records on file. They have also contacted the FBI and requested assistance in trying to locate Mr. Edward Fitzgerald, the son of Deputy Randolph Fitzgerald, who has not been seen or heard from in over ten years.

  If you know of Edward Fitzgerald’s whereabouts, have seen him or heard from him, please contact Sheriff Brian Skelton of the New Harbor Sheriff’s Department.

  Birth of a Valkyrie

  Fox Emm

  The world has always been a cold, unforgiving place. It has never been fair or known to play by the rules. People have learned to live with it, mostly. The belief in karma, and that bad things would circle back and hit bad people when they earned it, kept most folk in line, but occasionally that frail belief would be insufficient to keep someone at bay. Those were the occasions when revenge needed to be delivered, but those times were few and far between.

  Dinah Gunderson was a good girl, and a great student. She got into college without much of a fight. Her good grades and sufficient participation in extracurricular and volunteer activities during high school had allowed her to soar to the top of the admissions list. The mousy, studious young woman chose physics as her major once she was accepted, and gave little thought to the fact that she was one of only a few women in the department. She knew she deserved to be there.

  Once she got involved in her coursework, things got harder. Merit-based scholarships and honors programs passed her by left and right. While working on a research project with the head of the department, Dr. Gregory Estivan, she noticed that her academic standing wasn’t sufficient enough to keep propelling her upward. Despite her commitment to the faculty and staff, her high grade point average, and her willingness to always go the extra mile to achieve success, she was still not being chosen for leadership roles. Each time she was denied, she inevitably looked to see who won. Time and again she found that inferior males were being given opportunities to represent their laboratory at conferences and trade shows. Things began to look up when, near the end of the first semester of her second year, she learned about another such opportunity. She hoped her supervisors had been holding out on promoting her because they knew this was coming up, and this was a far greater honor.

  When Dinah saw she finally had a response to her application, her heart raced. The palms of her hands and the back of her neck felt damp. She deeply inhaled and held her breath for a few moments before she let the air slip out in a slow, deliberate exhale. She double-clicked to open the email, but held her eyes skyward.

  Please, she thought. This is all I want.

  When she lowered her gaze to read the email’s content, she breathed in sharp gasps, as though she had been punched in the gut. Heat rushed over her cheeks as hot tears welled in her eyes.

  ‘We’re sorry,’ the email read, ‘but we have selected someone else for the position. We thank you for your interest and wish you the best. We encourage you to apply for future opportunities within our department.’

  “How is that possible?” she asked aloud. Her voice was just a notch above silent. “I have the best grades. I have the most experience. I was on debate and forensics, so it’s not a matter of my ability to speak under pressure or in front of crowds.” She scrolled down to the department’s newsletter. Though the photo of the person selected wouldn’t appear until the following week, the name was already included.

  Him? This was the final straw. How could she be passed over for this promotion? It was the group she had founded to research her idea. Putting David in charge of the team was a slap in the face. He was only getting the role because he was the loudest during meetings and study sessions, but aside from stupid questions, he contributed little, if anything. What made things worse was that he would now get paid more than she did to participate in the discussions or do shifts of data collecting or processing.

  She was dumbfounded. She drafted an email immediately to Dr. Estivan and to her faculty advisor, Dr. Larson.

  By the end of the day, her email hadn’t gotten a response and she was so angry she thought she might cry.

  “How can they do this?” she hissed, her voice cracking as she spoke. “It’s my idea. My group. My project.”

  She called Dr. Larson, who had been the source of a great many platitudes for losses of positions before. He didn’t answer, and neither did Dr. Estivan. She tried to convince herself that she wasn’t being ignored, that they weren’t in the office, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were dodging her.

  After a few days of waiting, and several calls which went unanswered, she turned to the only person she had been able to trust: her father. He had always been a source of comfort and solid advice.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Daddy. How are things at home?”

  “Quiet, as usual. I went over to clear off your mother’s grave yesterday. How are you doing?”

  “Just awful. No one listens to me here. I was just skipped for a promotion that would have made a huge difference on my resume, and there’s nothing I can say. When I mentioned it to my advisor, who we’re working with, he gave me some nonsense about how David is more qualified because he has leadership experience… I don’t call being a team leader at Chuck-E-Cheese relevant experience, Dad.”

  “You’ll figure out a way to make them listen. You’ve always been great at getting your point across, Pumpkin. You’ll make them hear you. You’re creative and smart – they’ll have to listen.”

  His words were intended as a pep talk, for her to try things like giving a presentation rather t
han a speech, using real world examples, or, at the most dramatic end of the spectrum, staging a peaceful protest. He certainly wasn’t condoning acts of violence. Unfortunately, much of life revolves around the interpretation of words rather than their intended meaning, incorrect or not.

  *

  The following afternoon, Dinah ran through the list of offenses against her and other women in her department. There were many, from outright sexual harassment and catcalling, to men telling them they “needed to smile” after going through a difficult break-up or losing a family member. There were no women in positions of power, either. Even the sole female faculty member was an associate professor who was at least a decade from tenure, assuming she got it at all. The sins committed against them were astonishingly numerous, and the greatest of all was simultaneously brazen and subtle: not a single woman was the head of a research group or project. Each new description of an incident or revelation that committed, studious women had been passed over made Dinah’s blood boil and helped solidify her commitment to her plan.

  She was willing to give the department one last try, however.

  *

  Dinah dropped by Dr. Larson’s office the following morning and did her best to act as though she hadn’t noticed him grimace upon sighting her. She wished she hadn’t seen some of the color drain from his cheeks when she spoke his name, though. “Dr. Larson, hello. Do you have a moment?”

  He nodded and gestured to the chair beside his desk. “Please, come in. How can I help you?”

  “Thanks. I’m here about the—”

  “The research position, right?” he said, not giving her time to launch into a speech she might have prepared for him. “I’ve been meaning to reply to your email. I’ve just been waiting on responses from the council members about their selection process.”

  Dinah sat in stunned silence. She hadn’t expected him to interrupt her the way he had, and she certainly hadn’t predicted he would claim there was a council involved in choosing an unqualified man over her.

  She studied him for a few moments, waiting for elaboration. When none came she spoke again. “Well?”

  “Well, what? I’ve been waiting for responses.”

  “What have you found out so far? I don’t understand why David was chosen when I’m the one with the most research experience.”

  “He has the most professional knowledge. Right now, that seems to have put him ahead.”

  “Oh, okay. I didn’t realize that it was essential to have worked outside the university when pursuing a purely academic position,” Dinah said in an even tone, but the look she gave him and the words she chose made it clear she was unimpressed.

  “I don’t know what you want me to say, Miss Gunderson. The decision’s been made.”

  “Okay,” Dinah remarked. She nodded, trying to make herself okay with it by sheer force of will. “Well, thank you for your time.”

  *

  Later that evening, Dinah, the pacifist, wrote letters to her father, the women in her department, and the school’s administration. To her father, she apologized for not being strong enough to handle the situation better and reiterated that she loved him dearly. To the women, she explained that they were not the reason for her actions. Finally, her letter to the department was her manifesto. It explained what had been happening to her and the other ladies in great detail and offered suggestions for improvement. She made sure to mention the importance of having more women in power.

  *

  The following day, she skipped classes to gather supplies. Semi-automatic handguns were easy enough to procure; they were practically lining the streets. She picked hers up in a nearby hunting shop. Since she was old enough to purchase a weapon, she had only needed to wait a few hours for the mandatory background check to return. (In her state, the obligatory waiting period had been reduced from forty-eight hours to eight.) She also acquired a sword, two machetes, three hunting knives, and a small camping hatchet. The shop clerk hadn’t asked, but she made some excuse about an upcoming hunting trip with her father.

  She laid the weapons and ammunition on her bed, and took a step back with her arms folded across her chest. She smiled broadly at the sight. The small arsenal looked a bit absurd, splayed out on the Hello Kitty comforter and sheet set she’d received for Christmas. It was a testament to the fact that she hadn’t always been like this, though she didn’t think of it that way. Prior to starting classes at the university, she had been given credit for her work and contributions. It was only after she’d been overlooked and hadn’t been given equal compensation for her work that she had snapped.

  Now, looking at the weapons she fully intended to use against those who had wronged her, she felt justified.

  *

  The morning of her attack she had a cup of coffee and some toast. She wanted to keep her energy levels high, her senses sharp, and her stomach settled (it would become soured by her anxiety otherwise).

  She scrolled through her inbox and read her unanswered email about why she hadn’t been chosen and began to lose patience once again. She would not back down or be ignored, not that day or ever again.

  She snuck into the building which housed her lab, making sure no one was inside the room before bolting the door behind her. There she unloaded the weaponry from her duffle bag. She began transferring them to pockets and sheaths on her person but was interrupted by a knock at the door.

  “Hey Dinah, are you in there?”

  She gritted her teeth. “Yeah, David. I’ll be there in a sec. The lock has been sticking this morning. You know how it gets sometimes,” she called out to him in the friendliest tone she could manage. After unlocking it, she swung the door open and stepped behind it.

  “Thanks! I figured if anyone was going to be here early on a Friday morning, it would be you. You’re the most dedicated…” he began, but trailed off. “Hey, Dinah, are you just sitting in here in the dark?”

  He didn’t get the chance to turn and face her. He didn’t get an answer to his question, either. She let the door swing closed and lock, which blanketed the room in darkness.

  Before he could speak again or shout in alarm, she swung the hatchet and struck him hard in the back of the neck. He collapsed to the tile flooring like a ragdoll. She flipped on the light switch and hacked at his body with the sharpened side of her weapon.

  Once David was lying in a growing pool of his own blood, she smiled before releasing a loud cackle. This was how she would get her revenge. One by one, person by person, sin by sin – they would all finally notice her (though it would be the last thing they ever did). She wiped the blade off on a dry spot on David’s clothing before she reattached the hatchet to her waist.

  Now the real fun could begin.

  Dinah had memorized the Friday schedules for every person she intended to visit. She knew she could find her original academic advisor, Dr. Shook. The older man had attempted to discourage her from pursuing a degree in hard sciences or mathematics. Why? “Those fields are boys’ clubs, and it will be harder for you there.” Dinah had always resented him for discouraging women from joining the sexist departments rather than disciplining the faculty and students who made them operate as such.

  When she knocked on his open office door, he smiled and waved her in. She wore a long, flowing duster-style sweater which helped conceal her weapons.

  “Miss Gunderson,” he said, greeting her warmly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “I had hoped you could help me plan my class schedule for next semester, Dr. Shook,” she replied, forcing a sheepish smile. “My advisor is great at supervising research, but he isn’t the best at helping me with the boring paperwork part.”

  “Absolutely, I can help. Though, since I’m not your advisor anymore, I can’t look up your records. Would you mind signing me in?”

  Dinah genuinely looked as if a wave of relief had washed over her. She widened her small smile into a grin. “Thank you so much! I want to be sure I graduate on time.” She went arou
nd to the back of his desk and told the man her username and password for the scheduling program.

  Once he’d signed on and clicked through a few screens to get to her upcoming class calendar, he paused. “Everything works on here as far as I can see. You seem to be on the right tra—”

  She reached around and slit his throat with one of the long skinning knives. Blood squirted from his arteries and onto the computer and desk. He gurgled and sputtered before he tried to unsuccessfully hold his throat shut. After a brief period, he lost consciousness, but she stabbed him a few times for good measure. Since she had gotten him from behind, the only thing she had to be wary of when she left the room was stepping in the mess he had made.

  She logged him off her username and powered the computer down before stepping around him. As she exited his office, she hung a small sign she had prepared on his door. It claimed he’d left early for a family emergency, but he’d be back Monday. That would buy her some time: housekeeping didn’t work on Friday nights or over the weekend. By the time Monday came around, she would be long gone.

  She locked the door behind her, and continued down her short list. This time she was gunning for her actual advisor, Dr. Larson. The one who’d called her brilliant and had given the green light for her research, only to hand the most lucrative position to a man who joined in late and contributed nothing. No, she would not abide the blatant disrespect of giving away roles of power in her research group.

  She knocked timidly on Dr. Larson’s door. After a few moments and no answer, she tried again. She was worried that her mission might be compromised. What would she do if she couldn’t punish the one who had committed the worst atrocity? Her anxiousness proved to be for nothing when she heard the man’s familiar voice.