As the Arbiter walked down the steps of \u201cThe Collective\u201d he increasingly heard the humming and buzzing of the crowd. The bar was full, and the previously laid back and talk-therapist-like bartender was now taking orders and serving with the efficiency of an industrial robot. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
As the Arbiter stood at the entrance observing the crowd, he saw Mohawk among them; who broke off from what he was doing and excitedly approached the Arbiter as soon as he noticed him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWelcome back boss,\u201d said Mohawk.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s with the crowd?\u201d asked the Arbiter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMeet the Ka\u00e7ak Syndicate,\u201d said Mohawk all proud. \u201cThis is the army you hired.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The Arbiter just looked for a while. The old fashioned way, without the cyber-implants, analyzing each face individually. Taking it all in. The entire bar-full of hackers, all mobilized and buzzing with activity. The ones standing by the bar had their equipment and their drinks compete for the same space. Others seemed busy stretching and laying down cables, digging the proverbial trenches, turning the bar into a headquarters for whatever war they were about to engage in. It was difficult to find a table or a booth that was not occupied. Some debated lively over holographic projections of maps, others analyzed the schemes with the complicated architecture of electronics. Further ahead, a group seemed to be in a state of work-trance, hyper-focused on writing that perfect script to achieve whatever task they\u2019d set for themselves.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s going on here?\u201d asked the Arbiter. \u201cWhy all the commotion?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHaven\u2019t you heard?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMy implants are still offline,\u201d said the Arbiter. \u201cNo luck at\/with my appointment. They couldn\u2019t fix \u2018em.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThere\u2019s been an attack, boss. A tragic massacre,\u201d said Mohawk. \u201cAt the supposed KIRN headquarters. A total blow\/setback to the cause. It looks like a lot of KIRN paramilitaries were killed. The news isn\u2019t official yet, but it will hit the media any moment now. This may mean war.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat about the journalists?\u201d The Arbiter used the local term for the journos<\/em>, one the locals deemed non-derogatory and non-offensive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWe don\u2019t know. Half of the Syndicate is scrambling to find an answer to that question,\u201d said Mohawk, his face suddenly losing the bubbly enthusiasm as his eyes looked at the emptiness in the distance. \u201cI knew some of them, you know, KIRN militia members\u2026 We often worked together, collaborated on projects. Good people, you know\u2026 all gone now\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mohawk continued his blank stares for a moment, reminiscing on the times many freelance projects they worked on to spread the \u201cfreedom (of information)\u201d, and then suddenly, as if awoken by a cold sobering chill, took a step forward, straightened his spine, and called out to the crowd: <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cKa\u00e7aks, hear me,\u201d he yelled. \u201cIt is a sad day, not only for our fallen comrades, not only for our shared cause, not only for our allies of the \u201cIowa Accords,\u201d but also for freedom everywhere in the world.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n A grim silence began to fall all over the bar, the bartender turned off the speakers, and all of the hackers stopped what they were doing and turned their heads towards the Mohawk. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cKa\u00e7aks, her me,\u201d continued Mohawk. \u201cThis is war. And soldiers die in wars. We all know that. Yet, our hearts still bleed for our friends at KIRN. Ka\u00e7aks, raise your glasses in honor of the fallen.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n And the entire bar complied. Those who happened to be without drinks just raised their empty hands, fists clenching invisible mugs. The Arbiter decided to do the same. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThey fought valiantly. And they fell for what they believed in. And, even though we are not warriors like them, we are fighters all the same \u2014 it\u2019s the same things we believe in,\u201d that\u2019s when Mohawk also raised his empty fist clenching an invisible glass, and added: \u201cKa\u00e7aks, what do we believe in?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cFreedom!\u201d shouted the crowd, as they raised their glasses or \u2014 more commonly \u2014 empty clenched fists, in the air.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat do we fight for?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cFreedom!\u201d and fists in the air.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The Arbiter kept his hand in the air, stunned both by the display in front of him, and by the sudden realisation of how these freelancers have reappropriated the meaning of \u201cfreedom\u201d for their own benefit. They are no different than the journos<\/em>, thought the Arbiter. In fact, they may be worse. He was aware of the power that the \u201cCult of Freedom\u201d wielded with Kosovars. Just like ancient city-states, Kosovo and Prishtinopolis were no different \u2014 they too made use of myths to give their existence meaning. And in this pantheon of new values, none was more powerful than the Freedom-myth. <\/p>\n\n\n\n So typical, thought the Arbiter, for a people who could barely move freely anywhere outside their border, to revere such an aspirational deity. Illyriana the Free was the unofficial\/state-sanctioned patron-goddess of Kosovo, and she embodied an updated conception of freedom, one that also reflected the present-day cybernetic values that drove the country\u2019s economy. They even referred to their country as \u201cThe Cradle of Freedom,\u201d thought the Arbiter. And the Arbiter couldn\u2019t swallow the hypocrisy of his northern neighbors when they referred to the Code as a religion, yet failing to see their own fanaticism in idolatrous practices that even involved statues, temples, priests, rituals. Perhaps it is a vulnerability that could somehow be exploited, figured the Arbiter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat will we die for?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cFreedom!\u201d and fists rose in the air again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cCondolences,\u201d said Mohawk in a more solemn voice. \u201cAnd may their deeds bring them glory.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cGlory!\u201d they all shouted again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cKa\u00e7aks, her me. Our fallen allies will be remembered, and our work will continue. The cause we serve has many names, but it has one ultimate goal. There are many battles to come,\u201d and the Mohawk turned to the Arbiter. \u201cKa\u00e7aks, I present to you\u2026 your new boss!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n And with that they unleashed one last roar with their clenched fists in the air.<\/p>\n\n\n\n …<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mohawk\u2019s impromptu speech caught the Arbiter by surprise. He didn\u2019t expect this youngster to be so eloquent and so charismatic. When he hired his services, he didn\u2019t realize he was buying an army of hackers. All pleasant surprises; a feeling he realized he had missed during the times he had spent viewing the world through his cyber-implants.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cQuite a crew you got there,\u201d said the Arbiter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cFor the right price and the right ideals,\u201d said Mohawk, and showed him the Ka\u00e7ak Syndicate\u2019s insignia that was being projected on one of the walls. \u201cLibertas et merces<\/em>. Liberty and wages. That\u2019s our motto. Speaking of which\u2026 Please follow me, boss. We have much to discuss.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n They slowly began to step down from the stairs which had served as the make-shift podium, and Mohawk led the Arbiter to the back of the bar, to a more quiet place.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cForgive the questions, Boss, I have to ask\u2026\u201d began Mohawk, \u201cWhat happened to your KIRN friend I had tracked down for you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n This, on the other hand, was not a surprise. He had expected this question to come up, and had been mulling over all kinds of scenarios on how to deal with it. He even briefly contemplated swiftly snapping Mohawk\u2019s neck and then quickly eliminating the rest of the people inside the bar. But maintaining his stealth was essential to his mission. And bringing that kind of unwanted and unwarranted attention was a scenario of last resort. Plus, after learning of the size of Mohawk’s little hacker army, he could figure endless ways of putting them to a better and more productive use.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt doesn\u2019t matter anymore,\u201d said the Arbiter and he tried hard to make his face appear somber. \u201cEspecially since these last developments.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI can\u2019t track his cyber-signature,\u201d said Mohawk. \u201cHe appears offline. He too might be dead.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n The Arbiter wondered how much Mohawk knew. Was he on to something? <\/p>\n\n\n\n “But, forgive me, boss,\u201d continued Mohawk, \u201cI have to ask\u2026 about the timing of all this. How come at the same time you are interested in a KIRN militia member, they all end up wiped out.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI thought your lot didn’t care about the details?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Freelancers like the Mohawk and the Ka\u00e7ak Syndicate prided themselves on their protocol of conduct. They were used to working with employers with fake holographic IDs, who often spun some ridiculous covers and background stories. It was not unusual but rather encouraged by the nature of their jobs. And since most of their work consisted of these kinds of incognito transactions that valued the protection of privacy, they always called their employers \u201cboss\u201d. It was unspecific enough and it did away with the need to ask for unnecessities like IDs and motivations. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cCorrect. That is the premise \u2014 and the promise \u2014 of a freelancer contract. The Ka\u00e7ak Syndicate survives and lives by that rule. But considering the circumstances, boss\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI can not tell you the details of my mission, you know that, right?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mohawk nodded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cBut, how about this: The person you searched for me was supposed to be my contact. I needed his help to complete my mission. It hardly matters now. We have to focus on new things. I want to know who is responsible for this.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI can tell you who isn\u2019t,\u201d said Mohawk. \u201cYou. The attack had begun while you were still here, at The Collective, talking to me and the bartender. I can\u2019t say I didn\u2019t have my doubts, boss. And that\u2019s why I had to ask what I did.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI want to know everything that went on and what is going on at that KIRN headquarters,\u201d said the Arbiter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAnd boss, what about your implants?\u201d asked Mohawk.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI think it is safer if we don\u2019t tinker with them. I\u2019ll have to endure my withdrawal symptoms. I don\u2019t want to paint a target on my back. I got lucky this time.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI understand,\u201d said Mohawk. \u201cBetter be safe than sorry. Whoever got our KIRN friends, could also use your implants to track you down.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cBut what about your crew?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cOh, don\u2019t worry about us boss. We\u2019ve got it covered.\u201d Said Mohawk, but his lack of elaboration alarmed the Arbiter. What technology did the Ka\u00e7ak\u2019s have under their sleeves?<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" As the Arbiter walked down the steps of \u201cThe Collective\u201d he increasingly heard the humming and buzzing of the crowd. The bar was full, and the previously laid back and talk-therapist-like bartender was now taking orders and serving with the efficiency of an industrial robot. As the Arbiter stood at the entrance observing the crowd, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[2,4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-51","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-bonus","category-fiction"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/storylab.al\/arbiter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/51"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/storylab.al\/arbiter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/storylab.al\/arbiter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storylab.al\/arbiter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storylab.al\/arbiter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=51"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/storylab.al\/arbiter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/51\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":53,"href":"https:\/\/storylab.al\/arbiter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/51\/revisions\/53"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/storylab.al\/arbiter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=51"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storylab.al\/arbiter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=51"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storylab.al\/arbiter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=51"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}