Free Code Breakers: Alpha by Colin F. Barnes

gate sat in the middle—partially open.
    From the gap, a series of vehicles, bikes, trikes, and large-wheeled buggies streamed out. Their drivers wore little apart from partial furs and goggles.
    Gerry swallowed, wanting to wash it down with the water Gabe had brought, but realised he’d only been out of the Dome for a short while and the others showed no sign of needing refreshment. He didn’t want to look so weak so soon.
    The sun bore down on him, seemingly cooking his skin to a crisp. How Gabriel could suffer wearing his leather duster coat, Gerry had no idea. He’d taken off his own coat as soon as they got through the fence and rolled his sleeves up to his shoulders, yet he was still sweating as if in a sauna.
    “Hot for spring,” Gerry said.
    “It ain’t usual,” Petal said. “Make the most of it. Usually it’s just cold and dry.”
    Petal held up her hand to shield the light from her goggles and stared out at the oncoming cavalcade.
    He didn’t like the silence from Gabe or Petal. Both just stared right ahead, watching the group of survivors get closer. Gerry wondered what to call them. Were they survivors? Was their little town a country or city of its own? Who ruled over it? How did they grow food? Myriad questions flowed through his mind as he attempted to beat down the nerves that grew more strained as they drew ever closer. He asked the questions to Petal, wanting to break the tense silence that had built up.
    Petal turned to Gerry. “They call themselves Bachians. Bachia was a province in this area many decades ago. They’re small provincials with smaller minds.”
    “You said they were your buddies?”
    “Hah, that was Gabe. He was being sarcastic. Our last interaction with them wasn’t so good. As for food, it’s like most of us out here: soy protein and occasionally corn. Few crops grow, or survive, for long in the poisoned soil. It’s getting better, though. The soy filters out a lot of the heavy metals and radiation. There’s all kinds of recipes now.”
    “Sounds, erm… nice.”
    “It’s shit for the most part,” Petal said. “Sometimes we get lucky and find some of the freeze-dried ration packs on our travels. Usually we just steal food from the Dome, as do the Bachians.”
    Gerry raised an eyebrow, questioning.
    “Yeah, that’s where they get a lot of their resources. Tunnels, Gez. And like I said before, the Family tolerate them to a degree.”
    Gerry wanted to probe her for more information, but she cut off as they came closer. Finally, she said, “We’ll need their help. Old Grey’s in their possession.”
    “Old Grey?”
    Petal nodded, displaying her lupine smile. “You’ll fill your pants when you get a load of Old Grey. She’s been around longer than all of us. Well, apart from Gabe, that is. Never met anyone or anything older than him.” She cackled as Gabe turned his head at the sound of her voice.
    “So who is this Old Grey? A survivor from before the Cataclysm?”
    “Kinda. It’s a computer. An ancient AI-based server with a hard-on for malicious code. It’s where I unload my storage. She’s super rare. These Bachians worship her like a god.”
    Gerry thought of the possibilities: if this computer was as old as Petal said, it would have petabytes of information about the world before the Cataclysm, before the Family and the building of City Earth. “Can you get access to its data storage?”
    “Haha, you’re a funny guy, Gez. I admire your ambition. Nah, Old Grey is tight as a gnat’s ass. Access to her is tightly controlled.”
    “What about remote access?”
    Petal stopped, pulling at Gerry’s elbow. “Why’re you so interested?”
    “I want the truth. What you and Gabe have highlighted for me recently is just how much bullshit we’ve been fed by the Family. Despite City Earth supposedly being a utopia, it seems someone is desperate to bring it down. I’d like to know why.” If he could find out what happened, maybe he could understand the