[PDF]CHRONOS

2ND EDITION


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WILLIAM HERN


CHRONOS


William Hern


LICENCE


This novel is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0
International Licence (GC BY-NC-SA 4.0).


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This licence allows anyone to copy, distribute and adapt this work as long as the following
conditions are adhered to:


1. Attribution - my name is retained in all copies
2. | Non-commercial - only non-commercial uses for this work are permitted
3. ShareAlike - any remixes or transforms of this work must be distributed under the same


licence as the original


More details about the licence can be found at http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/
legalcode


Any of the above conditions can be waived if you get my written permission beforehand.


This novel is available in both ebook and printed editions. All major ebook formats are supported,
including Amazon Kindle.


An audiobook version, unabridged and performed by the author, has also been released.


Further details can be found on the www.chronosthenovel.com website (scan the QR code below
with your smartphone to visit this site).


PREFACE TO THE 2™4 EDITION


This edition includes an additional afterword with my reflections on “CHRONOS?” over the six years
since it was first published.


There is also an appendix which features the original versions of the chapters that explain the Cube
cryptocurrency. Anyone who wants to delve into the specifics of how Cube works may find it of
interest. This appendix was previously restricted to copies of the printed book but is now included in
all ebook editions as well.


Individual chapters of the story have been subjected to light revision, mostly to correct a few typos
that managed to slip through the original editing process. If you spot any remaining slip-ups, please let
me know via my website (williamhern.com). Those who are first to submit a specific correction will
have their name added to the Acknowledgements section.


Finally, Pve made some tweaks to a few passages of character dialogue, following feedback received in
response to the audiobook version that was published at the end of 2020.


Wiliam Hern


In loving memory of my father, John E. C. Hern (1936 - 2020)


PART I


THE NEAR FUTURE


“.. most of the people in this world accept the fruits of technology in about the same way as a kitten accepts milk”


Jerry Pournelle


Chapter One


‘TUESDAY


Through the fog of deep sleep, a noise gradually registers on my subconscious. It’s a
ringing tone, urgent. The sound of a telephone.


I sit up and squint at the time displayed on my phone band, lying on the bedside table. It’s
2.40 AM. More importantly though, it’s not the source of the disturbance.


The sound must be coming from the landline in the flat, I realise. I had a phone line put
in three years ago when I moved in, mostly at my parents’ insistence. [’ve never used it since.
Hardly anyone has the number.

I pull myself up from the bed and move into the living room. Through the room’s floor-
to-ceiling windows I can see the night-time lights of central London. | really ought to get


round to putting up curtains some time.


I hunt around for the phone amidst the room’s clutter. I know that it’s here somewhere,
buried underneath the detritus of several years of bachelor living.


The phone continues to ring. Whoever’s calling seems exceptionally patient in waiting for
me to answer. This had better not be some offshore call centre, wanting to sell me insurance

I finally locate the phone, but only after starting at the wall socket and following the cable
all the way to the handset.

I answer the phone. “Hello?” I manage to say.


A pause, then I hear a faint female voice at the other end. “Tom, is that you?”


“Yes,” I answer. “Who is this?” My throat is dry and the words come out as a series of
rasps.


“Tt’s Faiza,” the voice says. “You know, Max’s wife ...”
> >
She pauses again.


“Tt’s about Max,” she says. “I don’t know who else to ask ... Please help.” Her voice
sounds small, distant.


Our entire conversation lasts no more than two minutes. After we hang up, I return to the
bedroom and go over to the table. I pick up the earpiece lying beside my phone band and pop


it into my ear.


“Hey Iris,” I say.


Iris responds immediately. “Yes Mr Jenkins,” she replies. I like my digital assistants formal.


“Book me a plane flight to San Francisco for this morning,” I command. “Direct, no
connecting flights. Open return date.”


Iris sets to work and within a couple of seconds a seat has been booked for me on the 10
AM flight from Heathrow. I then start packing some gear for the trip and making other
preparations. All plans for further sleep are put aside.


So just like that ’'ve committed to travelling five and a half thousand miles, return date


unknown.


What’s that, dear reader, you think me a bit impulsive? Well, what would _you do if you had
just been told that your best friend had disappeared without trace?


Chapter ‘Two


TUESDAY AFTERNOON - EN-ROUTE TO SAN FRANCISCO


The Boeing jet banks and changes direction, rousing me from slumber. Peering through
the cabin window, I can see that we’ve made land and are now crossing the North American
continent.


I’m an enthusiastic cloud-spotter and so always try to book window seats on flights. The
clouds are looking particularly magnificent today - to the north of the plane I spy a couple of
giant Cumulonimbus, towering cathedrals of white and grey, lit up by the rays of the Sun.
They’re bad news for the poor sods who happen to be underneath them (at this time of year
they’re most likely to be suffering a sustained snowstorm). However for those of us who
happen to be cruising at thirty-thousand feet the clouds are a majestic sight.


I'm travelling light - just carry-on luggage, nothing checked into the hold. Years of
business travel have taught me that the single best way of avoiding problems during air travel
is to never ever check any luggage in. Apart from a change of clothes and a bag of toiletries,
all I have in my bag is my laptop computer and a few associated cables and other items.


Wrapped around my left wrist is my band. This is my latest tech gadget and I’ve quickly
come to depend on it. It’s the first wrist device that can realistically replace a smartphone,
rather than just act as a complement.


Launched earlier this year by a certain company out of Cupertino, the band has black
and gold styling (a combination of liquid metal and high grade polymer plastic) that allows it
to pass as a stylish, albeit slightly chunky, piece of jewellery. A small monochrome always-on
display shows the time, along with any messages that Iris deems worthy of my immediate
attention.


Iris is my digital personal assistant. I interact with my band mostly by talking to her.
Digital assistants have come a long way in the past decade - for one thing Iris is programmed
to only respond to my voice. The era of being able to play pranks by standing close to a friend
and commanding their agent software to send an embarrassing message to a loved one is well
and truly over.


Every morning Iris wakes me with a personalised daily briefing. This starts with her
reading out a summary of my schedule for the coming day, followed by the weather forecast
and a summary of any important emails that have arrived in my inbox overnight. She
concludes with major news headlines from around the world.


I unwrap the band from my wrist to reveal, on the underside, a touch-enabled high
resolution flexi-LED screen measuring approximately twenty centimetres long and six
centimetres wide. I lay it flat on my tray table. On this screen I can read emails, watch movies,
play games, surf the web or anything else that would normally be done by a smartphone or
tablet. A bistable metal spring, embedded in the device and running its full length, ensures
that it stays flat when I straighten it. The design is still uncommon enough that I can enjoy the


look on the faces of passers-by as I seemingly break the device by slapping it hard against my
forearm in order to get it to wrap securely around my wrist.


Lodged comfortably in my right ear is the companion earpiece. This allows Iris to interact
with me discretely, without disturbing those around me. The earpiece’s power requirements
are so low that it doesn't have a battery. Instead it uses a graphene-based thermoelectric
generator, powering itself off the temperature differential between my body and the ambient
air. As long as the air temperature stays below 28 degrees Celsius, the generator can provide
enough juice to power the earpiece.


The earpiece has several microphones built into it. Iris is pretty good at hearing me even
in noisy situations - if she struggles to understand me I can always raise my wrist to my mouth
and speak into the band's microphone. ‘This is guaranteed to ensure that she hears what ?m
saying but does have the unfortunate side effect of making me look like a Secret Service
agent.


And of course if I want to listen to music, I just have to pop a second earpiece into my
other ear and Iris automatically switches to stereo mode. It’s good for playing games as well,
not that I get much time for that these days.


With the band laid flat in front of me, I launch my email client. Faiza has sent me a
lengthy message, detailing everything about Max’s disappearance, and her actions so far. As I
go through the notes from her I can see that she’s been exceptionally thorough. I am quickly
able to build up a timeline of the events so far.


Max disappeared some three days ago, going out on the Friday evening, saying only that
he had some people to see. Some hours later, Faiza called his mobile, wondering where he
was, only to hear his phone ringing from their bedroom. Beside his phone was his wallet, with
all his bank and credit cards still inside.


With no immediate way of reaching Max, Faiza waited. And waited. And waited. No sign
of Max.


By Saturday lunchtime Faiza was getting worried. She reported his disappearance to the
police, and they’ve been looking into it, but with no result so far. Faiza’s been out looking for
him every day but nobody seems to have seen him. After two days of fruitless searching and
feeling increasingly desperate, she decided to turn to me.


I have left my boss a voicemail to say that I need to take time off urgently for personal
reasons and that I'll be back in touch at the start of next week. I have a large surplus of
holiday time accrued - the result of having worked the past two Christmases - so I have plenty
of banked holiday to use up. ’m sure he’ll manage without me for a couple of days.


The jet makes another course change. The pilot comes on the tannoy, announcing that
there’s turbulence ahead. Instinctively my hand goes to the buckle of my seat belt, checking
that it’s properly fastened. Satisfied, I return my attention to my band.


Technology has fascinated me ever since my parents bought a computer when I was just
six years old. Although I was the youngest child, it was I who was most entranced by what the


computer could do and how it worked. While my sister and brother used the computer to
play games and write up their homework, I wanted to do, and understand, much more. My
parents couldn’t answer any of my questions so I joined a local computer club in Guildford in
order to meet people who could. I learnt my first programming language there - Scratch. I
was a fast learner, especially once I discovered that the internet was a treasure trove of
information on everything to do with computing.


By the age of eleven I had mastered a range of programming languages, far ahead of any
of my classmates at school - or the teachers for that matter. I pestered my parents into
allowing me to attend a secondary school that specialised in the sciences and maths, despite it
being on the far side of Guildford from our home.


It shouldn't come as a surprise that when it was time to go to university, I chose to study
Computer Science. I applied to a number of the top universities in London. Getting accepted
to my preferred one was tough but I won through in the end.


It was at university that I met Max. We quickly became good friends. As well as studying
for the same degree, we shared many of the same outside interests, especially books and
movies. We shared a flat from the second year onwards.


Max was brilliant. [ mean off-the-scale brilliant. While I and the vast majority of the
students in the CS class had to work damn hard to master all of the material, Max sailed
through. He was top of the class in every single exam.


Yet one of the most surprising things about Max was his humility. He might have been
brilliant, but he didn't boast about it, or make others feel inferior. He was patient and good at
explaining even the most abstract of concepts.


Max and I both graduated near the top of our class (well, I was the one near the top of
the class - Max was, not surprisingly, at the top). From there our paths diverged.


I joined an investment firm in the City, working in its IT division. Financial trading these
days is all about speed. Anything we can do to reduce our response time to market events
helps the company make money. My job, as I like to joke, involves battling the speed of light.
Any enhancement that shaves microseconds off the time it takes for our systems to get market
information, or the time they take to react to it, gives us a competitive advantage.


Once investment firms had floors packed with Type A personality traders, screaming into
phones to make deals. They’re all gone now. Rather than have one trader execute tens of
trades in a hour, our computer systems can execute orders of magnitude more, and can work
round the clock. The individual profit margin on each trade might be small, but it sure adds
up when scaled to billions of trades a day.


My job involves working with some of the largest, fastest computer equipment on the
planet, running some very clever algorithms. It's fun at times, no question, but the tolerance
for mistakes is zero. Management remembers all too well the glitches in the automated
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