The Astral Hacker (Cryptopunk Revolution Book 1) by Brian Terenna (motivational books for women TXT) 📕

a seated position. Murder suspect? No. What? It was a suicide. She left a note. She was schizophrenic. But maybe they think I wrote the note. A gnawing pain grips my stomach. I touched the scissors.

“Why do they think you killed her?” asks Sunny.

I lower and hold my head, feeling like the world is unraveling. Is that why they shut down my accounts? Or is there something else going on? “I really don’t know what’s happening.”

“Maybe it’s because you left.”

“I’m sure that didn’t help.” I scan through the article, my hands shaking.

It doesn’t mention anything about schizophrenia or a suicide note, only that my fingerprints were on the scissors. I rub my forehead in a panic, trying to decide what to do. I glance frantically around the room and toward the window. Should I bolt?

No. I doubt anyone knows I’m here. Still, I could have been seen or filmed.

 “Chim, route all traffic through my virtual private network,” I say. “Sunny, I don’t want anyone gaining access to you. You’re going to need to disconnect from the mesh.”

He turns to me, and I swear his eyes look concerned. “I won’t be able to learn anything or help you as much. The things we’re dealing with are new to me.”

“We can’t risk you becoming compromised. If Chim is, I can get another q-link, but we can’t get another you.”

“What are we going to do? I think we need help. You should call Blaze.”

My stomach drops at the thought. “People are always trouble. You know this, Sunny. Every person in my life has hurt me.” I shake my head, feeling sick. “Even Barbra brought a huge problem down on us.”

“I think we need someone. We have no money, you’re hurt, and you’re wanted for murder.”

“No. I’ll figure things out,” I say.

“What do we do then?”

“I don’t know right now. We should have time, and I need rest anyway. We’ll figure it out tomorrow.” I lie down on my blanket and stare at the ceiling, doing my best to ignore the cobwebs.

I always thought one of my skills was coming up with options; today, I can’t conjure even one. Maybe it has something to do with the scratchy, stale blanket beneath me, or how I can tell a child once lived here. Who was she, and what did she think about when she stared at the ceiling? What happened to her? It can’t be good, or there wouldn’t be so much stuff abandoned here. It proves that even if a country is prosperous, there are always people who suffer.

☼☼☼

I wake up on my blanket and groan. At least it provided a little padding. My fitful night of sleep was terrible, especially when some creature, probably one of the rats, ran over my legs. I shiver at the thought.

Sunny stands over me in sleep mode.

“Sunny.”

His eyes light up. “Morning, Fae.”

“I wish you would have guarded me from the rats.”

He looks down. “Sorry. I’m low on power.”

“It’s fine. I’m just tired. I barely slept since I was so worried. Will you hand me my bag?”

Sunny picks it up and walks over to me. I pull out two protein bars and eat them.

“We need to come up with a plan,” says Sunny. “You’re wanted for murder.”

The issue that made sleep nearly impossible slams back into me like a cascading computer failure.

What should I do? I have no money, and the police are after me. There’s no way I’d turn myself in, so I suppose I have to run. But I need cash to make that possible. I was going to program apps, but there’s no time for that now. I need to get out of Stroudsburg, and for that, I need money.

“How can we get cash, Sunny?”

“We could work instead of doing something illegal.”

I shake my head. “I’m wanted for murder. I can’t be seen.”

“We could wear masks,” he says.

“Let’s get a Jack Trackton mask for you, and I’ll be the president. We can charge money for autographs.”

“I don’t think that will work.”

“That’s sarcasm. Remember I told you about that?”

“Oh, I understand,” he says.

So what can I do? I glance at my q-link. I know I could make money hacking, but my recent failure still makes me sick, and I said I wouldn’t. I’d be devastated if I hurt someone else.

How else can I avoid capture, though? I need funds to escape.

I try to come up with other options, but after a while, I sigh and slump forward. There’s nothing. I rub my face and lean back, feeling defeated.

I suppose I could put my vow on hold if I’m careful. I don’t have to abandon it. It would only be one hack, and then I’d never do it again. I guess I have no choice.

I consider possible attacks that wouldn’t hurt anyone or be too hard. After devising several options, I select one. “I have an idea that shouldn’t be too risky,” I say. “It’s illegal, but that’s our new life, I guess.”

Sunny lowers his head. “Diablo. I don’t like it.”

I roll my eyes, amused as always when he uses my lingo.

I’m going to need a way to change my face for the job, though. I can’t risk being filmed or seen. Sunny wasn’t way off base about the masks. Wearing high-quality masks could work, but we have no money.

I’ve heard of illegal software that projects a holographic image over your face. That would work. I activate my proxy and virtual private network for extra protection and scan the dark mesh for the software.

The only software I can find costs more money than I’ve ever had and certainly more than my zero dollars. I might be able to steal it, but it’s risky to steal from people on the dark mesh.