Doctor Who - Downtime Part 11

We're still trying to get back in...' She paused and a look of astonished disbelief flooded into her eyes. ' Jesus Maria Jesus Maria, you're joking!'

She put her hand over the receiver and said flatly, 'New York say they're picking up top-security UNIT doc.u.ments on the Internet!'

' Bozhe moj! Bozhe moj! What sort of doc.u.ments?' What sort of doc.u.ments?'

'Personnel records. They want us to shut down completely.'

'We can't shut down,' he snapped. 'Not like that. We don't know what damage it'll do. This guy's got a counter move for every situation. He could be leaving bombs and viruses all through the network.'

'They're frightened he'll breach the defence systems.'

'Ah.' Bonderev lit another cigarette, while Diaz argued with New York. Finally she put the phone down. 'They're going to shut down anyway.'

'We'll see,' he said slowly. 'Of course, if our friend got in through the back door...'

'Then why shouldn't we?' they chorused together.

They scrambled across the office to a spare terminal.

Bonderev began to laugh as he logged into the e-mail system.

'This I always wanted to do. Hack my way into the biggest global security system.'

'It's your own system,' commented Diaz.

'Even better! Anyway I inherited it, so it's not my fault.'

He was already pummelling his keyboard. Within seconds he was surfing. 'Look at that!' A series of menu windows was opening up already. 'I'm in. That's crazy.'

'Someone's going to have to rewrite the whole UNIT caboodle.'

Bonderev was grinning in shock. 'Oh, it's back to index cards for us.' He was in Overview by now. 'Our friend can certainly teach us a thing or two. This is much quicker than usual. Look, he's unzipped us like a banana! Torn right through.'

Overview displayed a graphic map of the entire network divided into coloured vertical blocks. It highlighted a white path that cut laterally across, jumping from system to system.

'He's using the liaison facility I set up,' announced Bonderev proudly. 'The one no one ever bothers with.'

'He's searching for something,' said Diaz.

'And he's squirting everything he touches out into the Internet. Maybe he's one of these open government crazies.'

Diaz nodded. 'Probably British then.'

'Look, it stops in Personnel Records. He's still there.'

'Can you get a fix?'

Bonderev was almost gurgling with pleasure. 'Ach, my friend. We have you.'

There was a sudden surge of power around them and the lights came on full. 'Oh, no,' Diaz hissed.

[image]

[image]

Bonderev swore loudly. 'He's gone. And he turned the lights back on when he went.' He flopped back in his chair, disgusted. 'So close!'

'You weren't supposed to enjoy that,' she said.

The terminal pinged at them. A tiny smiley face began to flash in the corner of the screen. Bonderev groaned. 'I don't want an incoming message. I want to know who this b.u.g.g.e.r in the system was.'

Before he could even tap in a reject, the screen was emblazoned with a logo: a letter W with a spinning globe of the world balanced on the letter's central peak.

'What the Gorbachev is this?'

[image]

'I don't believe this,' complained Bonderev.

'I believe it,' said Diaz. 'I'm only surprised it hasn't happened earlier. Get rid of it.'

The screen had begun to flicker. It suddenly whited-out totally an angry glare as if the terminal itself had taken offence at her judgement.

But the seething white had a fascination too. It dragged you in. Got behind your eyes. Bonderev could feel it pulling.

With a clunk, the screen went dead.

'That's enough of that,' Diaz complained. 'b.l.o.o.d.y commercials. That's what I joined up to escape from.'

'You should have joined the Foreign Legion,' Bonderev said. He was gazing disappointedly at the empty screen. In his head, the little red cursor was suddenly scattering 'MIGRAINE' glyphs by the thousand. Spreading out, jumping systems. This lot seemed to be dancing a triumphant galop.

6.

Putting it Together New World University is famed as the first establishment for further education to employ establishment for further education to employ tutorial methods run solely by computer tutorial methods run solely by computer program. program.

The University stands on the north bank of the Great c.o.ker Ca.n.a.l to the North West of the Great c.o.ker Ca.n.a.l to the North West of London. The 350-acre site, once an industrial London. The 350-acre site, once an industrial estate, has been re-landscaped into pleasant estate, has been re-landscaped into pleasant parkland by Capability Green, the well-known parkland by Capability Green, the well-known firm of ecological developers. From the bank of firm of ecological developers. From the bank of the ca.n.a.l, planted with rushes and irises and the ca.n.a.l, planted with rushes and irises and stocked with waterfowl, the wide lawns sweep stocked with waterfowl, the wide lawns sweep up through drifts of daffodils to the University up through drifts of daffodils to the University complex itself. complex itself.

This first 'green-field' university is designed in a style reminiscent of Sixties red-brick, but in a style reminiscent of Sixties red-brick, but combined with an accessibility entirely in tune combined with an accessibility entirely in tune with the Nineties. Ranks of pyramidal ziggurats with the Nineties. Ranks of pyramidal ziggurats march triumphantly across the horizon a march triumphantly across the horizon a fusion of nostalgia and hope, just as education fusion of nostalgia and hope, just as education must build on the past to lay out the future. must build on the past to lay out the future.

Extract from Carbuncle Carbuncle, The Architects'

Monthly.

The event was going well. Maybe too well. There was always room for disaster.

Christopher Rice was starting to enjoy his role as mine host mine host to a select throng of the academic to a select throng of the academic glitterati glitterati, but perhaps that was just the champagne. The main hall of the university's Charles Bryce Memorial Gallery was exactly the right choice of venue. When the guests got bored with each other, they could admire New World's fine collection of paintings and ethnic Tibetan art.

A number of Fleet Street gutterati gutterati had also manifested themselves. Christopher had faxed the media and was gratified to find columnists from the tabloids in about equal numbers to those from the broadsheets. Students, who were cheaper than casual labour, moved in and out of the guests with trays of wine gla.s.ses. They were wearing their green New World sweatshirts and yellow New World caps as they would for any other study day. The guests plainly found this a novelty. 'Just as if McDonald's were doing the catering,' brayed one particularly asinine woman. 'I wonder if we could borrow a few for Marina's twenty-first?' had also manifested themselves. Christopher had faxed the media and was gratified to find columnists from the tabloids in about equal numbers to those from the broadsheets. Students, who were cheaper than casual labour, moved in and out of the guests with trays of wine gla.s.ses. They were wearing their green New World sweatshirts and yellow New World caps as they would for any other study day. The guests plainly found this a novelty. 'Just as if McDonald's were doing the catering,' brayed one particularly asinine woman. 'I wonder if we could borrow a few for Marina's twenty-first?'

Christopher summoned up a smile for her as he pa.s.sed. It was all facade, all pleasantries. Just below the surface, they were all piranhas. There was a shoal now, mainly tabloid, over by a set of computer art displays. They were milling hungrily around Anthony, who, Christopher was forced to admit, had to be today's focus of attention. With the opening up of New World FM Radio to the national wavelengths, they needed a high-profile front man. Anthony had done pirate radio in the Sixties, Radio 1 in the Seventies (briefly), and the graveyard slots on Radio 2 and London Broadcasting in the Eighties. He was only on a six-month contract anyway. After that, Christopher hoped, enough talent would emerge through the students for him to dispense with the old lag. If there was a DJ equivalent of the ham actor, then Anthony was at the Spam end of the range. 'Just read the scripts you're given,' he told him, 'and don't mention the word "Chillys".' The down-at-heel DJ was too grateful to argue.

Christopher left him to the frenzied carnivores and headed through the gathering, towards the buffet. There were a lot of Men in Suits, but he was looking for one man in particular: Desmond Pennington MP, Education Secretary and frightfully frightfully keen on what you're doing here keen on what you're doing here.

Christopher had five suits of his own, but he never professed to wearing them. His position as Marketing Facilitator at New World called for a more genial and informal approach. They were forcing back barriers here, after all. He was the mover and the shaker and so he dressed in a selection of exclusive pullovers to complement his carefully cultivated laid-back image even if the Vice Chancellor had had stupidly implied that a formal suit with wing-collared shirt might be more appropriate. stupidly implied that a formal suit with wing-collared shirt might be more appropriate.

She was his only trepidation. G.o.d knows, he had tried to instil some sort of business ac.u.men into the woman, but she was a lost cause; too cautious, too old-fashioned and too wrapped up in her mystical beliefs. was his only trepidation. G.o.d knows, he had tried to instil some sort of business ac.u.men into the woman, but she was a lost cause; too cautious, too old-fashioned and too wrapped up in her mystical beliefs.

She was also too lenient with erring students. Lately, several had been caught abusing the computer tutorial systems. One in particular, Daniel Hinton, a Virtual Studies student, was a regular troublemaker. The devious little shyster whiz-kid out to get as much out of the system as he could.

When Christopher advocated sterner discipline, She She had pleaded for more understanding. Daniel was a special case, and the computer agreed with her. The gifted were always difficult, so they must make allowances. Christopher had lost face over that and was still smarting. had pleaded for more understanding. Daniel was a special case, and the computer agreed with her. The gifted were always difficult, so they must make allowances. Christopher had lost face over that and was still smarting.

The name Chillys Chillys was her fault too. In an initial interview, she had referred to the first students as Children of the New World. She apparently thought this was a rather romantic notion. The was her fault too. In an initial interview, she had referred to the first students as Children of the New World. She apparently thought this was a rather romantic notion. The gutterati gutterati had fallen on the stupid remark like slavering hounds on a lame rabbit and nicknamed the students Chillys. Christopher had been battling the whole cult idea uphill ever since. had fallen on the stupid remark like slavering hounds on a lame rabbit and nicknamed the students Chillys. Christopher had been battling the whole cult idea uphill ever since.

The real trouble was, of course, that She She was in charge and held the purse strings. But he had been working on that. was in charge and held the purse strings. But he had been working on that.

Maybe with a little help from the government's lottery fund...

There was still no sign of the Secretary of State. At least the Vice Chancellor was late too, which was refreshingly unusual for her. Christopher had just reached the buffet when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

'Young man, I want a word.'

He turned and recognized the Member for Burncaster North demanding his attention. 'How can I help?' he oozed.

'You're the young man in charge here, are you?'

'I'm the university's Marketing Facilitator, yes,' said Christopher, nodding to the ID badge attached to his pullover.

'Are you going to tell me all about computers then?'

'Well, what would you like to know?'

'I've been reading this so-called prospectus of yours,' said the MP, flourishing the glossy brochure. 'And I'd like to know how you reckon that a machine can teach someone better than a person. That's for starters.'

'I'm so sorry,' pleaded Christopher. 'I don't believe we've been introduced. You are...?'

The MP bristled with gratifying irritation. 'Clive Kirkham, Education Spokesman for the Opposition.'

'Oh, I see. Thank you so much for coming.'

Mr Kirkham was plainly not a man for suits either. His brown checked jacket had worn elbow pads and an air of the Oxfam shop. 'I want to know what you think you're playing at, Mr Rice.'

'Christopher, please. We try to keep everything on an informal basis here at New World.'

'Oh yes, very culty. User-friendly, politician-friendly too, I expect. And grant-friendly, no doubt.'

'We all have to find our way in today's climate. Remind me Clive, what's your party's line on financing education?'

'We think pupils are more important than Marketing Facilitators.'

'Good,' said Christopher. 'So do we. But just tell me, with technology advancing so fast, what happens in ten years' time to children who aren't computer literate?'

'They'll know how to talk to real people, that's what. Their total experience won't be confined to the Information Super b.l.o.o.d.y Highway.'

'Nor will our students be.'

'Then who writes the syllabus?'

Christopher c.o.c.ked his head to one side and allowed himself a satisfied smile. 'The computer,' he said.