For the Win, Cory Doctorow [english novels for students .TXT] 📗

level three. But the entire escalations manual was available in the private discussion forums on the unofficial Turk groups if you knew where to look for them.

"I, uh, I think I found someone, who was, like, a pedophile? Like he might have been trying to get some kids to give him their RL addresses?" Kid-diddlers, mafia, terrorists or pirates, the four express tickets to level four support. Anything that meant calling in the federal cops or the international ones. He figured that a potential pedophile would have just the right amount of ick to get him escalated without the call being sent straight to the cops.

Brianna typed something, read something, muttered "Just a minute, hon," read some more. "OK, level four it is." She parked him on hold.

Jie came back with a styrofoam clamshell brimming over with steaming dumplings and a bottle of nuclear-hot Vietnamese rooster sauce and a pair of chopsticks. She picked one up, blew on it, dipped it in the sauce and held it out to him. He popped it into his mouth and chewed it, blowing out at the same time to try to cool off the scalding pork inside. They shared a smile, then the call started up again.

"Hello, Coca Cola Games, level four ops, Gordon speaking, your name please."

Leonard went through the authentication routine with Gordon again, his password coming more easily to him this time.

"All right, Leonard, I hear you found a pedophile? One moment while I pull up your interaction history --"

"Don't bother," Wei-Dong said, his pulse going so fast he felt like he was going to explode. "I made that up."

"Did you." It wasn't really a question.

"I need to speak to Command Central," he said. "It's urgent."

"I see."

Wei-Dong waited. This Gordon character was supposed to get angry or sarcastic, not quiet. The pause stretched until he felt he had to fill it. "It's about the Webblies, I have a message for Command Central."

"Uh huh."

Oh, for Christ's sake. "Gordon, listen. I know you think I'm just a kid and you probably think I'm full of crap, but I need to speak to Command Central right now. I promise you, if you don't connect me with them, you'll regret it."

"I will, will I? Well, listen, Leonard, I've been looking at your interaction history and you certainly seem like an efficient worker, so I'm going to go easy on you. You can't talk to Command Central. Period. Tell me what you want, and I'll see that someone gets back to you."

This was something Wei-Dong had prepared for. "Gordon, please relay the following to Command Central. Do you have a pen?"

"Oh, this is all being recorded." There was the sarcasm he'd been waiting for. He was getting under his skin. Right.

"Tell them that I represent the Industrial Workers of the World Wide Web, Local 56, and that we need to speak with Coca Cola Games's Chief Economist immediately in order to avert a collapse on the scale of the Mushroom Kingdom disaster. Tell them that we have two hours to act before the collapse takes place. Did you get that?"

"What? You're kidding --"

"I'm serious. I'll hold while you tell them." He muted the connection and immediately dialled back to Singapore and told Justbob what had happened. She assured him that they'd get their economist on the line as quickly as possible and put him on hold. He bridged both calls into his earpiece but isolated them so that they wouldn't be able to hear him, then told Jie what had just happened.

"When can I interview you about this for the radio show?"

He swallowed. "I think maybe never. Part of this story can probably never be publicly told. We'll ask BSN, OK?"

She made a face, but nodded. And now there was Gordon.

"Leonard, you there, buddy?"

"I'm here," he said.

"You're logging in from a lot of proxies lately. Where exactly are you located? We have you in LA."

"I'm not in LA," Wei-Dong said, grinning. "I'm a little ways off from there. You don't need to know where. How's it coming with Command Central, Gordon? Time's a-wastin'." Keep the pressure up, that was a critical part of the plan. Don't give them time to think. Get them to run around like headless chickens.

"I'm on it," Gordon said. He swallowed audibly. "Look, you're not serious, are you?"

"You saw what happened to Mushroom Kingdom, right?"

"I saw."

"OK then," Wei-Dong said. He'd been warned not to admit to any wrongdoing personally.

"You're serious?"

"You know, 15 minutes have gone by already."

Another swallow. "I'll be right back."

A new line cut in, different background noise, chaotic, lots of chatter. Gordon had probably been a teleworker sitting in his underwear in his living room. This was different. This was a room filled with angry, arguing people who were typing on keyboards like machineguns.

"This is William Vaughan, head of security for Coca Cola Games. Hello, Leonard."

"Hello, Mr Vaughan." Leonard said. Be polite. That was part of the plan, too. Real operators were grownups, polite, businesslike. "May I speak with Connor Prikkel, please?" Prikkel's name had been easy enough to google. Wei-Dong had spent some time watching videos of the man at conferences. He seemed like an awkward, super-brainy academic type run to fat. He typed a quick one-handed message to Justbob: Got cmd ctnrl, where r u?

"Mr Prikkel is away from the office. I have been asked to speak with you in his stead."

He had prepped for this, too. "I'm afraid that I need to talk with Connor Prikkel personally."

"That's not possible," Vaughan said, sounding like he was barely holding onto his temper.

"Mr Vaughan," Wei-Dong said. He hadn't spoken this much English for weeks. It was weird. He'd started to think in Chinese, to dream in it. "I don't know if uh, Gordon told you what I told him --"

"Yes, he did. That's why you're talking to me now."

"Mr Prikkel is qualified to evaluate what I have to say to him. I'm not qualified to understand it. And no offense, I don't think you are either."

"I'll be the judge of that."

Justbob sent him a message back: 5 min.

"I've got a better idea," Wei-Dong said. "You get Mr Prikkel and call me back. I'll leave you a voice-chat ID. You can listen in on the call."

"How about if I just trace where you're calling us from and we call the police? Leonard, kid, you are working on my last good nerve and I'm about to lose it with you. Fair warning."

Wei-Dong tisked. He was starting to enjoy this. "Mr Vaughan, here's the thing. In --" he looked at the clock -- "about ten minutes, you���re going to see total chaos in your gold markets. All those contracts that Coke Games has written for gold futures are going to start to slide into oblivion. You can spend the next ten minutes trying to trace me, but you're not going to find me, and even if you do, you're not going to be able to do anything about it, because I am an ocean away from the nearest police force that will give you the time of day." The security man started to choke out a response, but Wei-Dong kept talking. "I'd prefer not to destroy the game. I love it. I love playing all these games. You have my record there, you know it. We all feel that way, all the Webblies. It's where we go to work every day. We want it to succeed. But we want that to happen on terms that are fair to us. So believe me when I tell you that I am calling to strike a bargain that you can afford, that we can live with and that will save the game and get everything back on track by the end of the day." He looked at the clock again, did some mental arithmetic. "By tomorrow morning, your time, that is."

He could almost hear the gears turning in Vaughan's head. "You're in Asia, somewhere?"

"Is that the only thing that you got from that?"

He made a little conciliatory snort. "You're a long way from home, kid. Ten minutes, huh?"

Wei-Dong said, "Eight, now. Give or take."

"That's some pretty impressive economic forecasting."

"When you've got 400,000 gold farmers working with a few thousand Mechanical Turks, you can do some pretty impressive things." The numbers were all inflated. But Vaughan would assume they were. If Wei-Dong had given him the real numbers, he'd have underestimated their strength. He liked how this was going.

2 min more from Justbob.

"OK, Vaughan, here's how Mr Prikkel can reach me. Sooner, rather than later." He named the ID and the service, one that was run out of the Mangalore Special Economic Zone. It was pretty reliable and easy to sign up for, and they supported strong crypto and didn't log connections. He'd heard that it was a favorite with diplomats from poor countries that couldn't run their own servers.

"Wait --"

"Call me!" he said, and gave him the details once more.

They'll call me back he typed to Justbob. Our guy wasn't there.

Justbob called him right away, and he heard The Mighty Krang and Big Sister Nor holding another conversation in the background. "You hung up?"

"It wasn't the right guy. I think he was away, maybe on holidays or something. They'll get him on the phone. no worries." But Justbob sounded worried, and he didn't like that. He shrugged mentally. He'd done the best he could, using his best judgement. He'd been shot at, seen his friend killed. He'd smuggled himself halfway around the world. He'd earned some autonomy.

He ate some of the now-cold dumplings and tried not to worry as the time stretched out. Ten minutes, fifteen minutes. Justbob sent more and more impatient notes. Jie fell asleep on the disgusting mattress, her sweater spread out beneath her head, her face girlish and sad in repose.

Then his computer rang.

"Hello?" Texting, Phone.

"This is Connor Prikkel. I understand you needed to speak to me?"

Now he texted and clicked the button that pulled Justbob and her economist onto the call.

No one in Command Central would meet Connor's eye when he came back into the office, his nose swollen and his eyes red and puffy. He grabbed a spare computer from the shelves by the door -- smashed laptops weren't exactly unheard-of in the high-tension environment of Command Central -- and plugged it in and powered it up.

"The markets are going crazy," Bill said in a low voice, while around them, Command Central's denizens -- minus Kaden, who seemed to have been removed for his own good -- made a show of pretending not to listen in. "Huge amounts of gold have hit the market in the past ten minutes, and the price is whipsawing down."

Connor nodded. "Sure, our normal monetary policy has had to assume that a certain amount of gold would be entering the system from these characters. When they stopped the flow a couple weeks ago, we had to pick up production to keep inflation down. I had assumed that they were too busy fighting to mine any more gold, but it looks like they spent that time building up their reserves. Now that they're dumping it --"

"Can you do something about it?"

Connor thought. All the peace and serenity he'd attained just an hour ago, when he was a man with nothing to lose, was melting away. He had the curious sensation of his muscles returning to their habitual, knotted states. But a new clarity descended on him. He'd been thinking of the Webblies as a pack of gang-kids,