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He now sits motionless in the green room, lit by a dim overhanging light. The computer screen in front of him casts a bluish glow on his sharp features. He is not overtly handsome, but has intelligent eyes, giving one an impression of innate brilliance. His hair is neither too long nor is it too short, somewhat in between, adding a rather boyish tinge to his character. Perhaps, it naturally reflects his real self-a young man still unsure of the world, yet unafraid and adventurous enough to take a risk or two.
The article on the screen seems to absorb him completely and he reads rapidly, sometimes pausing and re-reading certain lines, pondering them over in his mind.
The hacker known as Nexus is dead.
God help us.
For years the Conglomerates controlled and directed the lives of millions around the world, seizing almost totalitarian control over Information Technology the world over. They knew who you were, where you went, who you fucked and what colour your piss was. (The Americans had satellites that could do the same but that is a different story altogether).
It started out with tiny software upgrades.
'Install this add-on and you can see where your kids are'.
Or 'Update this software to fully know how much the Stocks Market will rise'.
So people installed their add-ons and upgraded their software, naïve as they were. They ignored the quacks who cried fowl and warned of the apocalypse. Obviously, who wouldn't? If only some NORMAL people stood on the streets and foretold the end of days!
Thus, dependence on these 'amenities' began to increase exponentially, and before anyone could really grasp the magnitude of what was going on, the Conglomerates had total control. There was nothing illegal about it, of course. They took care of the legalities. After all, it was the people who chose them right? They never forced anyone to use their databases, which by now had swollen to thousands of zettabytes.
The multitudes stood helpless against the megalomania. There were a few who resisted but were soon eliminated- the fortunate ones legally tangled in hearings and court orders that took lifetimes to clear, while the less fortunate just simply “taken care of”. Like any corporate giant, the Conglomerates employed a host of criminals and ex-convicts in their 'Public Relations' departments, who, in turn, dealt with any threat the only way they knew how to. Such details, were obviously rumours and nothing could ever be proven, in spite of an increasing number of disappearances and accidental deaths of key accusers and witnesses.
At a time of such chaos and neglect someone somewhere decided to shout louder than those before.
Enter Nexus.
Nobody knew who he really was, obviously. If they did, he'd be dead a lot sooner. All of a sudden, the Conglomerate servers began to fall prey to random acts of data terrorism. No matter what they did, it couldn't be stopped. Soon, the rumours turned to concrete evidence, and they were forced to concede the existence of this super-hacker to the public. A wave of resentment broke like a fever across the oppressed populace, who had been waiting for any signs of weakness. They now had their opportunity, and almost overnight, the Conglomerates began to lose credibility and control. Hundreds of independent groups started to fragment the erstwhile control that the behemoth had enjoyed. The bosses were furious. How could anybody so easily take their power from them?
A week passed.
Then a month.
The world was on its way to a new kind of freedom. People rejoiced, and sang praises for their hero. There were reports of men, women and children everywhere, claiming to be Nexus. Obviously, they couldn't all be him? Or her? Who knows.
Then the phenomenon simply stopped.
Cold in its tracks.
The attacks on the Conglomerates ceased, and once again people began to grow afraid. Was he really dead? Did the Conglomerates finally get to him?
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He thinks of all the things that have happened in the past. The appearance of Nexus, the decline of the Conglomerates, then the complete cessation of the hacker's activities.
Then finally, the appearance of the journal.
In his obsession to find out what had really happened, he began to dig deep into the innards of the Net. It wasn't long before he found something. Something that nobody else had found. Something that nobody would ever find.
Of course, he didn't know that until later.
At first it seemed to be just strings of meaningless code, and after running it through various decoders, he came up with nothing. Not easily frustrated, however, he devised a new application to crack it.
Seventy hours of caffeine fuelled back-breaking work later he had it.
The data definitely showed signs of being created by someone who knew what they were doing. It was designed in such a way that once accessed, it would be deleted from its original source, and would exist only within the computer of the finder.
Pure genius.
What was intriguing, however, was not its origin, but what it contained. A document of a sea voyage to the islands of Mauritius, off the east coast of the African continent. Insider intelligence confirmed that a facility housing the majority of the Conglomerate servers was located in that region. He'd seen too much to believe in coincidences. He reached the end of the journal, perplexed by its descriptions, only to realise that it was incomplete.
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Hours have passed since then. Maybe days. Who knows?
The green room stays dimly lit, a cocoon of light surrounding the young man. He leans back in his swivel chair and sighs, cradling his chin in his hand. His eyes remain calm through the narrow slits, but his mind is racing. Thought upon thought, adding things up, analysing their sum total, then taking them apart again. His forefinger taps at his cheek at equal intervals, keeping time with his mind. Then suddenly, it stops, and a dead silence follows.
What if this journal contains a message?
Something that isn't obvious?
I need some fresh air.
He looks at the photograph across the desk. A middle-aged woman stands there, an arm wrapped around the shoulder of a young boy.
He remembers his mother again.
It was difficult living with her. It always had been. Up until the time his father was alive, it was alright. He'd somehow managed to keep her restless anger in check. They would have their pointless arguments, and it would then simmer down. Soon after his death, the nagging got worse. She began to see fault in everything that he did. “Your father would've never done that”, she would say. That made things even worse. It made him feel angry and helpless. There was no way he could vent his anger on his mother. This carried on for years, and he became a silent recipient of her blind wrath.
One summer they were travelling south together, to meet relatives. His mother, being her usual self, had already spent a marathon three hours reproaching him for practically everything he did or did not do. When they reached the station, he quietly helped her off with her luggage. He then climbed back into the train and returned to his seat. As the train started to move, he watched his mother seated alone with her luggage looking around for him. Their eyes met momentarily, an eternity passed between them.
Finally, he steeled himself and gathered the courage to look away. He was sixteen then, young and impulsive, but he never looked back.
----------------------------
The green room looks the same.
As he leans back in his chair, his eyes begin to shut. At first he fights it, blinking forcefully to stay awake, but slowly sleep comes over him, his tired body going limp in the chair.
A slow dream envelops his mind.
His mother on the platform, sits by herself clutching the red bag in her arms, but her face is distorted. No matter how hard he tries he cannot see her face from the window in the train. He turns away to find himself on a boat. A storm is brewing in the distant horizon. He cranes his neck to watch the clouds gathering in an ominous anvil high up in the sky. The waves get higher as the boat begins to rock. Loose sheets of yellowed paper fly by him, followed by a strange man running behind. The man tries to catch the sheets of paper but misses them just short of the railing. To his utter dismay, the sheets of paper fly off into the sea and soon disappear into the wind. By this time his mind has begun to adjust to its environment and the dazed confusion is replaced by a serene and detached sense of acceptance, almost like a casual sightseer in a zoo. The storm strikes the boat with an animal vengeance, battering every inch with tidal waves metres high. He feels no sense of urgency, however, just surprise at his odd lack of fear. He sees grey concrete in front of him now. He can't remember how the storm ended. This dream world seems to have its own rules of time and continuity. The unknown man from the boat trudges alongside him towards a building and disappears behind a thorny bush growing from the sand.
He wakes up with a start.
His chair squeaks a mild protest while he adjusts his position a little. His back hurts and his left leg feels numb. He straightens himself out and sits upright, looking at the picture of his mother and him.
What is a nexus?
A link or a tie.
Between what?
Was he in some way bringing us back in touch with our lost humanity?
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Its been weeks since I stumbled across the journal, and I have nothing. However, I'm now beginning to realise the truth. The truth about Nexus. Maybe he never died, just simply disappeared quietly into the annals of history. Maybe he did. We will never know for sure. It is clear though, that he left the journal there for a reason. It was the only piece of himself he had left, and he wanted to share it with somebody. Somebody who was worthy. It is as if he wanted Nexus to be a concept, a phenomenon, not owned or inherited by a single entity. A force, if you will, that stood up for the little trace of humanity left within us.
I finally know now what I have to do. The epiphany occurred at an unexpected moment like most epiphanies do, but my mind is clear now. I know that I must finish what he started. I must continue his legacy and fight with all that I have the forces that oppress our people. The Conglomerates have been above the law of man for too long, but no more. They might reach me, take my life from me but they cannot destroy a concept. This is what Nexus is. Long after I am gone, it will continue to live on, an undying, infinite power of justice. I just have one regret now. I will never see my mother again, I know she's dead. She died the day I left her, and there is nothing I can do about it. I will live with this guilt for the rest of my life but I hope I can make up for my actions by helping those in need. Nexus is now my life, my identity, and it will live on forever, even after I'm gone.
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