Free United States of Japan by Peter Tieryas

corrupted.”
    “Why don’t you send it to Port Techs?”
    “There’s a peripheral leash that prevents us from taking it off the premises without self-destructing.”
    “What do you want me to do?”
    “I’ve heard you’re quite skilled with porticals.”
    “Hardly. I–”
    Akiko put her hand on his arm. “This is not the time to be modest, captain. I’ve heard of your reputation at breaking encryption codes. Besides seducing women, it’s the only thing you’re good at.”
    “That reputation is completely unearned. I get rejected all the time.” He took out his portical and a wire, since Claire’s portical had no EKS connection. He linked them directly.
    “You should be careful,” Akiko said. “We’ve already lost a dozen port–”
    “In,” Ben said.
    “What do you mean, in?”
    “I mean the encryption is cracked,” Ben said. “At least the first layer. The second layer is going to be tricky. There are algorithms here that alter their variables with every attempt. Unless you know the base equation, it’ll short circuit both our porticals.”
    “How soon?”
    “I have thirty seconds before our porticals need replacing.”
    Ben jumped through the numbers, pressing keys on his portical screen, alternating equations and variables. His own portical allowed him to input guesses while bypassing the normal security protocols, which in turn meant he could make false attempts without triggering the failsafe guards. The math involved was just like a secret that needed interpreting; hints and signs of demureness, or audacity, knowing when to step back, when to be bold. The sortie involved the right combination of words; a mix of humor, brash stupidity, and affection. Ben coaxed the commands, gently warbling unspoken cues. The cryptography responded like bittings on pins and wafers, a sheer line of desire unlocked through probes, piercing here, pressing there, ululations of longing, rotating into place, a misplaced symmetry of lust.
    “Second layer broken. Let’s see if there’s a third.”
    The third confronted him with a question:
    “WHAT IS THE MEANING OF LIFE?”
    He was about to answer, “What?” then figured that would probably cause a short circuit. Was this a trick question, or was it one of those subjective emotional encryption locks that measured audio wavelengths to determine sincerity?
    “Despair,” he replied.
    “WHAT DO YOU DO?”
    Ben had already set off a countermanding key program that would attempt to unravel the entire layer.
    “I censor seditious material.”
    “DO YOU ENJOY ‘I CENSOR SEDITIOUS MATERIAL’?”
    “I love it.”
    “WHY?”
    His program was struggling to break in. He had another idea. If he could funnel a pathway through the encryption every time it processed his answers, it was possible to transfer the basic files on the portical.
    “I protect people from disharmony.”
    A harsh beep rang out loud, indicating a misstep. Akiko watched raptly. Ben figured another mistake or two, and both porticals would be destroyed.
    “WHY?” Claire’s portical repeated.
    “Because I like controlling things.”
    “IS THERE A CONNECTION BETWEEN ‘DESPAIR’ AND ‘BECAUSE I LIKE CONTROLLING THINGS’?”
    “I hope not.”
    Her portical shut down and he quickly disconnected his.
    “It’s dead?” Akiko asked.
    “Hers is dead. But I transferred most of the files from her portical.”
    He accessed her duplicated portical on his screen. Different orbits of influence popped up; her communications to friends, photographs, music tracks, all revolving around each other like the planets and the stars.
    “What am I looking for?” he asked.
    She sidled up next to him. “How did you get in?”
    “It’s kind of like a good date. You just need to be adaptable.”
    She searched through the different orbits, scouring for something. “You got everything?” she demanded impatiently.
    “Not everything. But most of it.”
    She cursed in Japanese under her breath. “It isn’t