Generator [volume 3] the tower

than his ability to access confidential, classified or top-secret data, was his flagrant disregard for the regulations in revealing that information to the public. It was for that reason that security operatives had been called in to intervene.

“They... make me out... to be the evil one... but what do the technicians... and the corporations... have to hide?... I... was never interested... in disrupting... their marketing edge... by revealing trade secrets... to their competitors... There are plenty of corporate spies... already out there doing that... I simply wanted to provide information... to the public... so they could understand... a little more clearly... the world... that was being designed for them.”

Cordova asked him how effective he thought his messages were in transmitting that awareness to the masses. It was the only time during their conversation that Stephen had laughed. The sound had surprised Cordova; the laugh had been gentle, playful, melodic ~ There was a sparkle of intensity in his eyes.

“I never expected mass awareness... I used the media... as a method of inspiring individuals... for whom the message could be understood... Something is going to happen soon... The clock is running.”

Cordova noted that Stephen had purposefully used the familiar phrase which had often accompanied the threat of releasing his ‘imaginary’ virus. Cordova was aware that Stephen’s messages had already generated a wide variety of responses around the world. Reactions from the population ranged from considering the messages to be everything from subversive terrorism to radical mysticism. Media corporations were disconcerted, not so much because of the information which had been revealed, but because the pirate broadcasts ran without paying for the valuable air-time they consumed. At the other end of the spectrum, members of (what they considered to be) the underground fringe, received the messages as if they had announced the van‐ guard of a revolutionary new movement (which had yet to be defined), as word spread through the street. The number of rebels were small compared to the vast majority of citizens who paid no attention to the situation at all. The general population consid‐ ered the messages as just another frequency of ambient environmental media noise which buzzed at the periphery of their consciousness.

Wireheads, addicted to information, made copies of the pirate broadcasts for their own collection, or traded it with their friends. Each instance of the event became the topic of conversation in places like the Eagle Grill. During broadcasts, as Stephen watched the screen nestled in his bed, it seemed ironic to him that the virus meme itself had eventually been sampled, appropriated, deconstructed and blended into underground entertainment; used to promote music videos, or printed like a brand name on alternative fashion accessories.

Scrambled computer codes... From a blob of luscious fluid, a cute girl, body suit of tight pink fabric skin, splashes into the beautiful, coloured plastic world. All the shapes are smooth, curved, seamless. “My name is Brain Cancer Candy,” chirps the perky