Free Kingmaker by Christian Cantrell Page A

EIGHT
    Now that California State Route 1 is auto-drive enabled, Alexei can work while he rides. The position of his Ducati Ibrido Carbon is calculated down to the centimeter by combining signals from at least eight of the sixty-four HD-GPS satellites owned and operated by Pearl Knight Holdings. His location, speed, heading, orientation (relative to the road), mass, wind drag coefficient, and vehicle specifications are all transmitted via persistent gigabit wireless connection to overhead cellular drones that relay it to control towers which forward it via optical fiber to PKH servers. Solid columns of parallel processing cores infused with tubes of liquid nitrogen synthesize the data and distill it down into single frames of a situational model which are both encrypted and compressed before being transmitted back to Alexei’s motorcycle via the inverse of the route by which their inputs arrived only a handful of microseconds prior. The bike’s onboard computer decrypts and decompresses the packets, reassembles them, then integrates the results with readings from local laser and microwave sensors before concurrently updating the augmentation overlay of Alexei’s visor and making minute adjustments to the bike’s speed and inclination as it streaks south at ninety-one miles per hour along the curve-lined cliffs high above the heaving white waves of the Pacific.
    All Alexei has to do is relax and let the bike maneuver beneath him. The system will allow him to participate within a reasonable threshold should he choose to do so, increasing or decreasing control as he shifts hisweight, or twists the throttle, or exerts varying levels of pressure on the heated and shrouded grips. When done correctly, this dynamic becomes an intense symbiotic collaboration between man and machine which can sear the sympathetic nervous systems of even the most hardened and cynical adrenaline junkies.
    But Alexei has more on his mind right now than just carving up cliffs. As he leans back, the front suspension increases, the handlebars extend, and the foot pegs move forward to accommodate a more upright posture in which he feels he is less likely to be distracted. The faster he can work through this problem, the sooner he can lean forward again and get back to summoning some serious endorphins by sending the smooth, serpentine bioasphalt of Route 1 careening away beneath his solid carbon parabolic wheels as wildly and indiscriminately as the laws of conventional Newtonian physics will possibly allow.
    “Emma,” he says into the microphone embedded above the front vent of his helmet. “I want to do a little brainstorming.”
    The response comes through his ear pads and is accompanied by an underlying acoustic mirror image of the ambient noise around him. The miracle of active phase cancellation makes their conversation as effortless as pillow talk. “I understand, Alexei. How can I help you?”
    “First of all, I’m going to need access to the IDI.”
    “There are sixteen entities selling access to the Federal Identification and Demography Index today. Would you like me to enumerate them?”
    “No. How many of them have I used before?”
    “Seven.”
    “Use whichever is cheapest out of the ones I’ve used before.”
    “AAI—or Anonymous Access, Incorporated—is offering fully obfuscated and encrypted access to the Federal Identification and Demography Index for—and I quote—
the low low price of only four hundred and ninety-nine NGD per query
.”
    “Lock it in. Use a different offshore account for each query, selected at random.”
    “Pseudo-randomness, or quantum randomness?”
    “Quantum. The good stuff. And try to keep your queries to a minimum.”
    “Of course. Message from AAI gateway:
Welcome, Alexei. Your money is always good here
.”
    “Cute, but so much for anonymity. Any idea how they know my name?”
    “Anonymous Access, Incorporated guarantees protection against man-in-the-middle attacks, and that your access will