A story exploring time travel and societal issues in the wake of 9/11. This is chapter 6. See previous posts for chapters 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5.
After the remodel, NIS headquarters was mostly a single large open room, with pod-like working alcoves along the walls. T2 kept a small office for private meetings. He sat in this room now, looking across his desk at Agent Todd Feldspar, who was reviewing the documents on the clipboard he'd been handed.
"Hey don't you usually travel in pairs?" asked T2.
"Not always," muttered Feldspar.
"So you do this sort of thing often?" asked T2, realizing as he said this that he was on the verge of sounding reckless. Maybe that was for the best. He was playing a part, after all.
"I'm here because your tips checked out," said Feldspar. "And this new information may also be helpful, if it checks out too."
"Did you bring the passport?" asked T2, unable to wait any longer to ask about it. "The birth certificate?"
"I got it," said Feldspar. "But I need to know how you're getting your information."
"Nerd stuff," said T2. "We develop software that recognizes patterns. Sometimes, it recognizes patterns of criminal activity."
"But you're trading this info for a fake identity," said Feldspar.
"And your personal mobile number," said T2. "That part is important. For you as well as me. How else am I going to warn you when they move in? Your buddy at State has been making fake passports for cartel members. You did make sure he lost my records, didn't you?"
"Yeah, you're all set," said Feldspar. "But come on. Bank robbery. Human trafficking. No one knows about this stuff without an angle. So what's your angle?"
"Let me see the passport and I'll lay it out for you," said T2.
Grudgingly, Feldspar opened his briefcase and passed T2 a yellow envelope. T2 found a passport inside and inspected it. The document appeared to be in order. A weathered birth certificate likewise appeared authentic. "Alright, I'll tell you, but you're not going to believe it," he said.
"Try me," said Feldspar.
"My whole deal is using technology to make the world a better place," said T2. "Using computer programs to glean insight from data that mere humans can't make sense of. Now, these aren't shallow waters to be playing in. My competitors are cutthroat and I'm reaching out to form a relationship with you instead of playing ball with them. Which reminds me."
"What's this?" asked Feldspar as T2 passed him a big manila envelope.
"Information about issues in your organization," said T2. "For years, the FBI Laboratory’s microscopic hair comparison unit was systematically lying to courts about forensic evidence to secure criminal convictions. Dozens of people have been executed on their testimony. And that's just for starters. Since 9/11, some agents have become increasingly comfortable committing civil and human rights violations. Now, I've got you pegged as one of the good ones. Maybe you can do more with this information than I can."
There was a knock on the door and it opened. "I checked the place out and we're good," said a woman in a dark blue pantsuit.
"Thanks, Jennings," said Feldspar. "Mr Barabos, this is Agent Jennings, out of Portland. She'll be your point of contact moving forward. It's her number in your envelope, not mine."
"What happened to no surprises?" asked T2. "Agent Jennings, you didn't tell any of my people who you were, did you?"
"I told them I was an investor and they showed me what they were working on," said Jennings.
She pulled up a chair and Feldspar passed her the clipboard, but not the manila envelope. "This for real?" she asked, scanning the pages expertly.
"I realize that my intelligence may be poorly aligned with your current priorities, but this is what I've got," said T2. "Also, I'm not sure if he told you, but my involvement ends here. If you try to depose me or compel me to testify, you'll get nothing more from me but a wall of million dollar lawyers."
"So what exactly did you have in mind, moving forward?" asked Jennings.
"I was thinking quarterly reports, hand delivered," said T2. "With the understanding that my source could dry up at any time."
"Crazy-pants," said Jennings. "This whole thing is crazy-pants. You better not be wasting our time."
"Believe me, I know the value of time," said T2, who wanted to say more but didn't.
"Like I said, the stuff I got from him before all checked out," said Feldspar.
After the FBI agents left, T2 sat at his desk for several minutes with his new passport in his lap. It worked! He was now Thomas Barabos, born in Seattle in 1960. The documents wouldn't solve all of his problems, and there was always a chance that they would create new problems. But securing them had been one of his major objectives and now it was done.
Pulling a netbook from a desk drawer and leaving the office, T2 found everyone working diligently. "Announcement!" he said.
Four twentysomethings in their work alcoves turned his way. "Oh my god!" said Rachel. "The investors!"
"Are we going to get raises?" asked Reed.
"Not today," said T2. "But I am letting you all off early. Unless you want to keep working. That'd be fine, too."
"Your decisive leadership is inspiring," said Tyler.
Without a word, Ken rose from his seat and walked out of the building. Everyone else watched him go. T2 gave the smallest of waves goodbye, like he was bidding on an item at a posh auction. "Now," he said, "For those that stayed, a special challenge. I have prototype software on a prototype computer. The first one to get the software running on our regular corporate machines gets a special bonus."
"What's the software?" asked Rachel.
"Python 3.9, plus many related packages," said T2.
"3.9?" said Reed.
"But that's ...," said Tyler.
"Indeed," said T2, grinning, placing the netbook on the conference table. "Just pretend it's a computer from the future. Work on it until it's done, even if it takes all week. You'll want all the Anaconda stuff. Oh, and I'll be out for the rest of the day. So you'll have to hold your questions until tomorrow."
(Feature image from Pixabay.)
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