Submission to the DEF CON 29 Short Story Writing Contest: https://forum.defcon.org/node/237748 title: Repository Upload author: Alfred Rowdy document-id: 34922897-1bf0-41c8-879a-8c47577e6a66 document-key: 975285535d13d0a75e1d2b5a34aeb1fbefd0378befecf158af 67094e4721bd8e The dry night air clung in Jace’s nostrils. It was heavy and oppressive, illuminated by the garish neon signs above. They advertised a nail salon, a veterinarian, and who knows what else. He didn’t know how to read Russian and could only discern the intent of shops with pictures on the door. The sidewalk was crowded with street vendors. It smelled of grease and hot pelmeni dumplings. A woman flipped sweet blini pancakes on a griddle. Items of every sort were available on this market street. The selection changed by the hour. A child tended to stacked cages full of chickens and rabbits. Jace couldn’t distinguish if they were intended for pets or supper or maybe it didn’t matter. Sweat dripped from beneath the vendors’ masks and goggles. They protected themselves anyway they could. The vaccine hadn’t made it here yet. America barely had enough supply to cover the Novaya Kapitoliyl Dallas and the Republic of California steadfastly refused to break the trade embargo despite the suffering. The Council of Oligarchs controlled vaccine distribution as they saw fit. Las Vegas was not fit. Jace approached the veterinarian’s office. A poster of a young girl playing with two Pomeranian puppies was stuck to the door beneath thick security bars. The lights were off inside the building. Jace took his phone from his pocket and tapped in a message, “here”. A moment later the door buzzed, then clicked, then opened. The entrance way was still dark except for the reflection of exterior neon lights across the threshold. He pointed the light of his phone toward his feet to guide himself. The floor was old linoleum, scratched and dirty. The door shut and locked behind him. He walked to the back of the office where the exam rooms were located. This was the first and hopefully only time he’d be inside. Dimitry was standing behind the exam table wearing a mask. He greeted Jace, “I didn’t think you’d make it tonight. This cost me a pretty penny to get my hands on.” Dimitry patted the small package on the desk behind him. Jace eyed the package before responding, “I do what needs to be done.” “My colleague Irina. She is working with special pathogen control unit. Testing vaccine to prevent contagion in the rat population. How’s that for you? The sewer rats get the vaccine before we do. America the Beautiful. Fortunately for you I have connection with Irina,” he winked with a smirk and patted the package again. “I want to see it,” Jace said. “Payment first. Then you get out of here. Too dangerous for me to have this around for long.” Dimitry slid a crypto scanner across the table. “Fine.” He didn’t have a choice. Jace punched in the amount they had agreed upon earlier. 750 ducats. “No. The price has risen. You won’t find another. 1000 ducats,“ Dimitry negotiated. “I have 807 to my name. That’s everything I have,” Jace grimly protested. “That will work.” Dimitry typed the new amount on the keypad. Jace pressed his thumb against the scanner. It reassuringly beeped and lit green. “There you have it.” Dimitry had a wide grin on his face. The payment was nearly three years salary for an average Las Vegas resident. He handed the package to Jace. “Go out the back. I don’t want to see you again.” He pointed at the door behind him. The alley was dark. Jace was worried there might be someone waiting to take the package back. He wasn’t the most intimidating figure. His eyes adjusted to the darkness and he saw no one. He hurried towards the light of the closest street lamp and discreetly peeked into the package under the relative safety of the glowing light. The vial was there. He put it back and walked towards the crowded area where he could hail a tuk-tuk. “North District,” he told the driver. “Too far. Checkpoints on Pecos,” the driver responded. “Take it.” Jace handed her a wad of rubles. This really was the last money to his name. He needed to get home to his sister and finish this. He’d figure money out afterwards. The vehicle pulled out into the street and left the neon lights of the market behind. The streets passed by agonizingly slowly. Teeming with people who had waited for the sun to pass over the mountains to avoid the scorching heat of the day. Each district was strictly controlled with contraband checkpoints. There was no escaping the city trapped between checkpoints on one side and mountains on the other. He knew a way around the checkpoint into the North District. So did everyone else. That was a problem because you never knew when the police would plug the hole. The city grew less crowded as they travelled further. “Stop here on the right,” he told the driver. “Sure thing.” She pulled the tuk-tuk to the side of the curb. He could see the lights of the checkpoint far ahead, but this section of the road was comfortably dark. He hopped out and started walking down the sidewalk. The tuk-tuk sped off. He jumped the fence to his right and scrambled down the embankment into the dry river wash. It was quieter out here. He could hear the sound of the sand underfoot. He tried to quickly dash across, but his feet sunk into the sand with every step. He ducked into a storm sewer drain entrance on the other side. His hunched body waddled through the concrete tunnel. The remnants of a streetlight shown through a grate just large enough to fit a human. Jace tried to peek through to the street, but all he could see was trash in the gutter. He pulled himself up and squeezed through the gap, emerging onto the street, grateful he was alone in the nearly abandoned neighborhood. He set off towards his apartment several blocks north of here, just east of the bridge. The checkpoint lights grew brighter and his anxiety intensified as he approached. He didn’t have to cross the checkpoint from this direction, but had to pass within spitting distance of the guards.*Keep cool, just one more block.* Sweat dripped down his neck. He clutched the package in his pocket. The checkpoint was close enough to hear the guards’ conversation. Something about all the damned stray cats in this neighborhood. He turned right towards his apartment. The guards didn’t seem to care. *Slowly up the stairs, don’t draw attention.* He fumbled with his keys at the door, looking nervously behind him before getting the door unlocked. His sister Nancy was asleep in the corner of the small room. She had fallen sick two weeks ago. He gently placed his hand on her forehead. She was feverish from the virus. They had gone birding at the lake merely a month ago and now the disease had stolen her vibrancy, her body sunken into the ragged old recliner. He moved to the desk and rummaged through the drawer, pulling out a small box from the back. He brushed the dust off and opened it to reveal a haphazardly constructed electronic device. Wires sprouting from one end, a button in the middle, and a small cylinder on the other end. Jace was immeasurably lucky that he’d kept it hidden in the drawer for so long. It was only 6 years old, but it looked older. The world had changed in many ways over those years. The sequencer was cobbled together from cheap consumer electronics and YouTube instructions from the final DefCon. The one before the Petro War. He plugged the device into the computer on the desk and pulled the contents of Dimitry’s package out of his pocket. *Shit.* The glass vial was nearly empty. Someone, probably Dimitry, had already extracted two of the three aliquots the vial was designed to contain. The vaccine sequence was secret, known only by the pharma conglomerates and protected by patent. He could use the remaining dose to inoculate Nancy, or he could upload the vaccine sequence to a public repo, making it free for all, but there wasn’t enough vaccine left in the vial to do both. Jace turned to his sister sleeping in the corner. Her skin was mottled and pale. He lifted a syringe and drew the precious fluid from the vial. *Forgive me.* He stuck the needle into the device, closed his eyes, and pushed the plunger as far as it would go. He sighed and opened his eyes. A blue progress bar appeared on the computer screen. The homemade sequencer emitted a faint buzzing sound and the computer screen message changed, “repository upload complete.” It was done. He turned and held Nancy’s hand in his. “We’ll be alright.”