Part 21: Sloth

Tim proceeds deliberately. First, Cece’s back on the SFPD network. A week later, Tim returns via a new hijacked account. Nine days after that, Tim finds someone who has taken a great interest in Cece’s network activity. He’s waiting for the blip to reappear. Once it does, Tim will follow the blip back to its source. Deliberately, step by step, he’ll discover the IP address they neglected to mask.

They won’t mask that last IP address, thinks Tim, because they’ll think they don’t need to. He smiles: You mask 20 hops, I’ll trace back 21.

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Tim smells October in the muggy evening air. He’s walking west on Sacramento an hour after sunset, heading for a coffee shop on Divisadero. In that coffee shop Tim expects to find Cece, probably reading a book at a table facing the front window. Something spiritual, he guesses. But not overtly religious. And certainly nothing remotely technical. Tim admires Cece’s faith as much as he’s puzzled by the contradiction.

The precision and empiricism of well-crafted code is polar opposite to belief in something -- anything -- for which there can be no proof. Tim resents the mystery. As he walks toward Divis, he considers whether faith is required by a lack of information or a lack of perception.

Or both: Incomplete data set, and data can’t be parsed. Maybe that’s the point. Proving faith renders faith itself useless. No more magic. Tim slows to avoid reaching Divis on the red light.

Faith seems vestigial to Tim, but it’s real to billions of otherwise-rational people. Intelligent people have faith, like Cece, who Tim expects to find in a coffee shop a half block away. He slows to be easier for her to spot. Once he’s past the coffee shop, Tim speeds up and heads for an unlit doorway near Post. He stops when he sees Cece standing at the corner. She’s facing him with her arms folded, but she isn’t looking at him. Tim takes a step and stops again. “This was a mistake,” Cece says.

Tim waits for Cece to continue. Two seconds later, she says, “C’mon” and walks west on Post, arms still folded.

Tim watches, then follows. He catches up with Cece in half a block and asks, “What was a mistake?”

“Interning,” she replies as she walks. “Police. Pretending. Smith.”

“Me,” Tim adds to Cece’s list.

“Yes,” she says. “Not the same way.” She looks at him. “I wanted us to get these guys. Us. I’m a spectator. It’s your show. I’m a bit player. The decoy. You don’t even tell me what you find. I know you’ve got something by now.”

“When you’re active, overall network use increases by a factor of point-three above the expected level,” Tim says. “That’s all I have right now.”

“No it isn’t,” Cece replies. “You’ve started your trace and likely eliminated some regions as candidates. You know a local is involved.”

“What do you want?”, Tim asks her.

“To nab them,” Cece replies. “How do you know they aren’t watching you watch them?”

“I’m not,” Tim says.

Cece stops walking. “What do you mean you’re not watching?”, she asks. “Of course you’re watching. That’s the whole point.”

Now Tim stops. “The point is to nab them,” he says. “To do that, we need a lure. You’re the bait.” He faces Cece. “You’re the only one they’ll believe.”

Cece takes two steps toward Tim. “Suppose we find them,” she says. “What do we do then?”

“You, nothing,” Tim replies. He starts walking.

Cece gets in step with Tim as they cross Broderick. “I know you have a plan,” she says.

“I don’t,” Tim replies. “Don’t know who they are. Don’t know how they operate, don’t know why they’re doing it, don’t know what else they’re up to.”

“So what?”, Cece asks.

“That matters,” Tim says flatly, “whether they can explain or demonstrate why what they’re doing is necessary, effective, and not prone to errors.”

“You’re going to let them explain themselves,” Cece says, shaking her head.

Tim takes a deep breath. “I need a level of certainty,” he says.

Cece leans toward Tim as they walk west on Post. “You said we were the only ones who could get them,” she says quietly. “Now, maybe not.”

“Stop them,” Tim corrects Cece, “not get them.” He looks up and sees they are nearing the Muni yard. He turns right on Masonic and ducks.

Cece follows Tim up Masonic without a second thought. “I want to tell Smith,” she says.

“Okay,” Tim says.

“Just like that?”, Cece asks him.

“Smith can’t do anything,” Tim replies, “she’s a cop.”

“A detective,” Cece corrects him.

He shrugs. “Even worse.” Then he stops suddenly. “Blisflix,” he says. He starts walking again.

Cece follows, waiting for him to explain. He doesn’t. A half-block later, she asks, “What?”

“What?”, Tim echoes.

“Blisflix,” Cece says calmly.

“Patsy,” Tim says.

“That’s not his name.”

“Theirs.”

“Their name?”

“Their patsy.”

“Ah!”

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“Blisflix?”, Smith nearly shouts. Cece nods. “He doesn’t own a computer,” Smith tells her. “He still watches VHS tapes, for cripe’s sake.” She looks past Cece, watches people pass each other in the hallway they’re standing in. “He’s perfect,” Smith says.

Cece nods, “Mmhmm.”

“Villa Lobos won’t like it,” Smith says. “More bad news to keep from the higher-ups.” She looks at Cece. “What do you suggest?”, she asks.

“You mean, what does Tim suggest?”, Cece replies. “That we wait, as usual.”

“Wait for what?”, Smith asks, “the new moon?”

Cece looks around. “It’s not like that,” Cece says quietly. “It better not be like that.”

“Of course not,” Smith tells her. “And I’m far from done with him.”

“Yet you’re working with him,” Cece says.

“You’re the one working with him,” Smith replies. “I’m working with you. That’s a big difference.”

“Not to him,” Cece replies. “I think once we shine a light on them, they’ll scatter like cockroaches. The thing is....” She looks at Smith.

“Charlie won’t be satisfied with that,” Smith says. Cece nods. “Don’t worry,” Smith tells her. “Charlie’s out of the vigilante business.”

Cece thinks, Tim might have other ideas. “Where does that leave me?”, she asks Smith.

“You’re a shoe-in for Intern of the Year,” Smith says.

“Where does that leave me with Charlie?”, Cece asks.

“Before or after you testify against the bastard at his murder trial?”, Smith replies.

Cece almost laughs at the notion of Tim standing trial for anything, let alone murder. “Can you envision any other outcomes?”, she asks.

“None that pose a threat to you,” Smith replies. Activity in the hallway slows down.
"This guy’s got morals, of a sort,” she tells Cece.

“He’s got rules,” Cece says, “not morals. Big difference.”

“What kind of rules?”, Smith asks.

“Mathematics,” Cece replies. “Probabilities.”

“I’d say the probability of you needing a new pair of shoes is pretty high,” Smith says.

“He sure likes walking,” Cece replies. “All night.”

Part 22: Tennessee Street