2009-10-27: Trust is Built

Starring: Joel

And Rebel

Joel_V4icon.pngMicah_V4icon.png

Date: October 27, 2009

Summary:

Contact was made. Trust is built.


"Trust is Built"

The Library

The drop was missed, no further replies were given, and Joel waited. No word of why there was nothing there, no word of why someone didn't appear when they were supposed to be at the designated location. So the young man fell back to a prior spot to perhaps reestablish contact with another operative. So that is why the middle of the day finds him taking shelter from the autumn showers that drench New York from time to time. The New York Public Library serves as a refuge from the rain if nothing else, though most of the city's population eschews the place of research and literature.

He walked in easily enough, dark jacket drawn around him and an easy half-smile given to one of the clerks at the front desk. Through the security sensors, past the banks of tables, desks, and computer terminals. He walks towards the stacks, moving towards a particular spot in the back in the ancient languages section. A few steps carry him to a particular shelf that's bracketed by a pair of tables. Running his finger along the spines of the books, he finds one entitled, 'Proto Indo European Languages and their Evolution.' The book slides from its place, he opens it to a particular page, then crinkles his nose at some errant thought. The next moment finds him settling down at that table, slouching in his chair.

The table top pc vibrates fiercely as a message comes through. Joel has email. But the email he receives isn't what most would expect. The text is bold font courier font, and all caps. The IP information has been completely corrupted, but still, the email is there.

MOC.LIAMG|ROVERTYZZAJJD#MOC.LIAMG|ROVERTYZZAJJD,

INTERESTING ADDRESS. YOU'VE TAKEN GREAT PAINS TO MAKE YOURSELF UNTRACEABLE, HAVEN'T YOU? IT TOOK SOME WORK, BUT I KNOW YOU'RE NOT WORKING WITH THEM. IN FACT YOU'RE ONE OF US, AREN'T YOU, JOEL?

I AM NO WHITE KNIGHT. JUST A REBEL REFUSING TO SIT BACK AND LET THE GOVERNMENT IMPRISON OUR KIND. I STAND FOR THOSE THAT CAN'T.

—REBEL

And then the message is over, but Rebel lingers. In fact, he's online in Gmail chat should Joel have questions, or at least, demand answers.

Now that wasn't something he was expecting. Joel considers the mail, considers his connection, flipping the small pc around so that he can use the stylus. Sometimes better that way for security, but he sits there for an instant. His eyes narrow, and he lifts his head to give a look around the small back room that he's in. There's a bank of glass windows that make it so that he can see the main area, but there doesn't seem to be anyone around that'd raise some alarms.

Turning back to the datadisplay in his hand, he scribes a response. The chat interface opens. The first words sent to Rebel are hesitant in their initial transmission.

// DJJazzyTrevor sends, "I hate real time." //

Then the next one comes on the heels quickly.

// DJJazzyTrevor sends, "The people you talk to seem like good folk."

Perhaps he means Charity, perhaps he means something else.
The words are considered and there's a momentary delay before there's a response.

Rebel sends, NOTHING WRONG WITH REAL TIME. MOST LIKE INSTANT GRATIFICATION.
Rebel sends, THE PEOPLE I TALK TO ARE LIKE-MINDED. THEY WON'T GIVE INTO THE GOVERNMENT AND ITS DEMANDS OF THEM.

For a moment Joel's features twitch, just a touch as if amused. He leans forwards, glancing at the open book he has in front of him. He turns the page. Back to the stylus and the display. He responds,

// DJJazzyTrevor sends, "My point of view is limited, maybe narrow. People I run with are in wait and see mode." //

// DJJazzyTrevor sends, "I hate waiting too." //

There is a pause before Rebel responds as if considering something. And then the text comes through again,

Rebel sends, THEY ARE TAKING CHILDREN. THERE IS NO WAIT AND SEE ABOUT THIS. CLEARLY THEY'VE MADE UP THEIR MINDS ABOUT US.

Rebel sends, I'M NOT A TERRORIST NO MATTER WHAT THEY THINK. I'M A FREEDOM FIGHTER.

The young man in the library frowns faintly. His jaw extends a touch as his brow furrows. There's a distant look of concetration to him, though it probably goes unnoticed by the world. He taps the stylus faintly against the edge of the display, lifting his gaze away… then returning it back for his writing.

"When I started. For me was about stopping abuses. On either side. Us or them. Doesn't matter to me. Right now seems like they're going a long way to imbalancing things. Doesn't sit right. I'm not in a position to do anything at the moment. But it'd be good to be useful again."

As simple as that, he offers that series of transmissions. Decidedly vague, and unable to be referenced or linked to anything specific. Then again if Rebel had some insight into Joel he might realize that it's rare for this particular operative to stay connected for quite so long.

Rebel's text appears quickly this time. It's that same bold upper-case font he's known for.

Rebel sends, WE ARE ALL IN A POSITION TO DO SOMETHING. I HAVE A GIFT THAT HAS GIVEN ME THE ABILITY TO SEE WHAT THEY'RE DOING.

Rebel sends, I'VE SEEN THE ALPHA PROTOCOL FILES. SO MANY NAMES. SO MANY PEOPLE. THEY ARE DETERMINED.

Rebel sends, I DON'T WANT TO HURT THEM. I WANT US TO BE FREE TO LIVE. WE AREN'T ALL TRYING TO HURT PEOPLE. WE AREN'T ALL AUTOMATICALLY TERRORISTS BECAUSE WE CAN DO SOMETHING DIFFERENT.

The reply comes quickly this time, perhaps already being formed even as some of Rebel's other words are coming through. Joel's response might seem harsh, abrupt, or even judgemental. It's terribly difficult with the atonal nature of text.

"You seem earnest. Optimistic. Idealistic. That's not necessarily a good thing."

There's truth in Joel's words, but Rebel maintains his ideas.

IF THERE WASN'T HOPE, WHAT WOULD BE THE POINT? I WOULD GIVE INTO THE GOVERNMENT AND LIVE IMPRISONED THE REST OF MY LIFE.

THROUGHOUT HISTORY PEOPLE THAT WERE DIFFERENT WERE IMPRISONED AND EVENTUALLY, MANKIND FIGURED OUT THAT IT WAS A NEGATIVE. MY HOPE IS THIS WILL BE THE SAME.

IN THE MEANTIME, ALL I CAN DO IS STAND AGAINST THEM AND WORK WITH OTHERS TO DO THE SAME.

"Trust is built over time. You've done some good turns. That makes you aces so far in my book. I figure you've got things secured. So we can speak plain. Seems you've got resources, intel, you need operations. I'm out in the cold, I can operate pretty cleanly, but I've got no intel. If something comes up, point me at it, I'll look into it and move on it. If it smells fishy I won't operate with you again. If it's clean then we can go from there."

Several minutes pass before there's a response as if Rebel is checking something.

YOU ARE LOOKING FOR SOMEONE, CORRECT? GRAYSON BERG? Yes, Rebel's just examined the files on Joel's computer.

I CAN HELP YOU FIND BERG. HE HAS MANY DUPLICATES. The observation is just that, an observation. How Rebel has come to this conclusion is unclear.
PROBABLY FRUSTRATING TO TRACK.

There's an extended period of time that there's a delay. For some reason Joel's response takes a bit in coming as he's probably checking to make sure that there aren't too many terribly incriminating things on his small electronic gadget. Once done, however, the response comes through.

"Yes. Duplicator. Collated his probable locale due to the limited life span of his duplicates and the areas he's been sighted. Difficult to track is an understatement."

There's another pause, then another transmission is sent.

"He's done some very unpleasant things. I don't have holding facilities. Do you understand what that likely means?"

Unfortunately, Rebel does know the implications of Joel's words. And that's why there's hesitation with the next bit of text. In fact several minutes pass before Rebel types again and when he types, his words are changed several times before the enter key is hit.

HE CAN'T BE ALLOWED TO MAKE MORE PEOPLE HATE US. :(

There is a moment's hesitation once again before the text comes through, BASED ON WHAT YOU KNOW AND MY OWN SURVEILLANCE, HE SEEMS TO BE HOLDING UP IN A CHEAP MOTEL UNDER THE NAME OF GREY BERGER. I WILL SEND YOU COORDINATES. ONE MOMENT.

Joel's finger taps lightly on the side of the display, his eyes distanced. Rebel might not know it, but he just passed a small test. If there was no hesitation, if there was no qualm… then the connection would most likely have been broken. The response comes shortly thereafter.

"If there's an alternative, I'll find it. I prefer not to work that way." When the coordinates come through he responds a handful of moments later, "You've taken your first steps into a larger universe." Of course that's another test, perhaps not as serious as the earlier one, but telling nonetheless.

There is another moment before Rebel responds again, GOOD. I DON'T LIKE PEOPLE GETTING HURT, BUT WITHOUT RESOURCES, IT'S IMPOSSIBLE TO STOP BAD GUYS ANY OTHER WAY.

Joel's next words perplex Rebel, but he responds anyways, I DO WHAT I CAN TO HELP. AND I HAVE ACCESS TO MANY RESOURCES. MY ABILITY ALLOWS ME THAT. There is another pause in the text and then yet another response, YOU ARE DOING GOOD. EVEN IF YOU HAVE TO DO SOME QUESTIONABLE THINGS TO DO IT.

In the library, the young agent's nose crinkles faintly. He swirls a few last words to Micah before he breaks connection and kills the power to his tablet.

"I'm going to move on the information. I'll toss a line when it concludes. If you need me before then use the batsignal." And with that the data display goes dead, the connection broken and the link severed for now. He gained some things, gave a few things, and even offered a hint of his questionable sense of humor. All in all, a good deal. He rises from the seat, leaving the book on the table and pocketing his mobile into his jacket. The next instant he's striding down the aisle.

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