Lock In (Lock In, #1)

by John Scalzi

“Maybe,” I said. “Schwartz is really rich. I checked when I pulled his data earlier. Through Accelerant, he’s worth at least two or three hundred million. Really rich folks do a lot of reputational transactions.” “I have no idea what you just said.” Vann

“Rich people show their appreciation through favors,” I said. “When everyone you know has more money than they know what to do with, money stops being a useful transactional tool. So instead you offer favors. Deals. Quid pro quos. Things that involve personal involvement rather than money. Because when you’re that rich, your personal time is your limiting factor.”

“He doesn’t look drunk on the feed,” Vann said. “He didn’t smell or act like he’d been drinking when I questioned him. And anyway…” She fell silent again. “Are you going to be doing a lot of that?” I asked her. “Because I can already tell it’s going to bug me.”

your payment arrives.” “You’re not going to want a background check?” I joked. “I think your entire life has been a background check, Chris,” Tony said.

Which is why Mom, when she’s being indiscreet, refers to the trophy room as the “vet’s office.” Because that’s where Dad brings people to take their balls.

“No,” Hubbard said. “Making people change because you can’t deal with who they are isn’t how it’s supposed to be done. What needs to be done is for people to pull their heads out of their asses. You say ‘cure.’ I hear ‘you’re not human enough.’” “Oh, come on,” Buchold said.

“It sets us back by years,” Buchold said. “There’s data in the lab that wasn’t anywhere else.” “You don’t have multiple copies of your data?” Vann asked. “Of course we do,” Buchold said. “And you can’t pull it down off your networks?” “You don’t understand,” Buchold said. “We don’t ever put anything genuinely sensitive online. The moment we do that the hacking begins. We’ll put up dummy servers with nothing on them but encrypted pictures of cats, for fuck’s sake, and we won’t tell anyone we’ve put them out there. Within four hours we’ve got hackers from China and Syria cracking them open. We’d be idiots to put actual confidential data into an outside-accessible server.”

Explaining how the Agora works to someone who is not a Haden is like explaining the color green to someone who is colorblind.

you want really cheerful thoughts, you should worry about the software,” Tony said. “It governs how the networks run, and it’s all really just one kludge after another.” He pointed at his code. “The last software update Santa Ana put out accidentally caused the gallbladder to get overstimulated in about a half a percent of the operators.”

Davidson motioned at the colonial Hadens. “On one hand these guys seem like your basic crazy conservative types, with the Second Amendment and their Yankee Doodle hats. But on the other hand they’re saying they’re security for a march protesting reductions in government benefits. Which seems pretty liberal to me.” “It’s a puzzler,” I agreed. “I don’t know,” Davidson said. “Maybe it’s not about politics. Maybe these guys are just assholes.” “Seems the simplest explanation,” I said. “We have a right to assemble—” Washington/Swope began, clearly winding himself up. “Oh, Jesus, don’t,” Vann said. “It’s too early in the fucking A.M. for your brand of pathetic patriotic bullshit.” Washington/Swope clammed up, surprised.

“Pretty sure,” I said. “Jesus,” Dad said. “I just killed a man.” “Yeah, you did,” I said. I aimed my flashlight over at Dad. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think you just ended your Senate run.” Dad didn’t have anything to say to that. I think he might have been a little bit in shock. I took the body and rolled it over. Whoever it was, he was young, dark-haired, and dark-eyed. “Who is he?” Dad asked. “I don’t know,” I said. “Why would someone want to kill you?” Mom asked. “I’m an FBI agent,” I said. “It’s your third day on the job!” “Fourth,” I said. I was feeling a little punchy myself. I’d had a long day. “Mom. Dad. I need you to do something for me. When the police come, the story needs to be that this was a house robbery gone wrong. Tell Jerry that’s the story too.”

“One of my favorites was the time I put a basket on a remote-controlled toy quadcopter, filled the basket with candy, and then flew the candy into the programmer wing of Santa Ana’s headquarters. The quadcopter went from pod to pod, and while the programmers were grabbing at candy, I was grabbing shots of their work screens. I got eight programmer hashes that day.”

“Nice,” I said. “Everyone likes candy,” Tony said.