Day Zero

stretched for what seemed like miles. Tradition warred with gentrification in Tower Hamlets, and the latter was winning. There was no money for anything these days, but work was being done nonetheless, mostly by foreign concerns. London had been sliding towards international irrelevance for years, and no one wanted to admit it. And if that meant inviting in certain elements… so be it.
Elements like Albion.
She still felt queasy about handing off the data. Krish had vouched for the courier, and he’d matched the profile in her face-recognition program, but only just. It was as if he’d never used social media or had a photo taken.
Other than an e-fit she’d managed to dig up on her own initiative. It wasn’t a good likeness, but it was close enough. The suspect had briefly hacked the systems of several newly-deployed automated shelf-stacking robots in an upmarket grocery store, turning them into thieves – two for the shelf, one for the ’bot. There was no information on what happened to the stolen items, though there was an attached note that implied the items had been distributed to several local foodbanks by anonymous donors.
Oliver Soames – Olly to his mates – had been questioned during the course of the investigation, but nothing had come of it. That was the extent of his history: one brief mention in a police file, now closed and forgotten.
Hannah could practically smell the industrial strength bleach. Someone had scrubbed Olly from the system. It was that lack of information that had decided her in the end. If Olly Soames wasn’t DedSec, he was doing a good impression.
Suddenly nervous, she adjusted her hijab. Maybe he wasn’t DedSec. Maybe he was Albion. An illicit tracker program alerted her to the presence of numerous security drones overhead. More than one might normally see for a Sunday morning. Maybe they were cracking down on unlicensed stalls at the market – or maybe they were following her.
She wove along the pavement, instinctively avoiding the drone-sweeps as best she could. Her record was spotless but there was no sense taking any more chances. Especially if someone found out what she’d done. It had been a calculated risk, but what else could she have done? Albion was dangerous.
Not everyone agreed, her boss for one. She saw Albion as “an opportunity”. As such, she’d ordered Hannah to construct a complete dossier on the company – everything from hiring practices to financials. Whatever she could find, however seemingly insignificant. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much available. But what was there, was terrifying.
One of the world’s leading private military contractors, Albion was looking to expand into privatized law enforcement. They wanted the UK to be their test market for long-term urban deployment and pacification, starting with London. A foothold in the city was as good as a boot on the throat of the rest of the country.
If they succeeded in getting the contract, they’d have no accountability and little-to-no oversight. A paramilitary force, occupying what was left of the United Kingdom. The thought wasn’t a pleasant one.
Luckily for Hannah, DedSec agreed. Or at least she hoped they did. It was hard to tell from the outside what DedSec actually wanted at any given time. At first, she’d thought they were just one more hacker collective, out to cause trouble. These days, she knew better.
DedSec had a plan. But what that plan was, she wasn’t sure, save that it was aimed at making life a bit better for everyone. And that including stopping Albion from setting up shop in London. Or so Krish had assured her.
She smiled at the thought. When she’d known him, he’d been just another kid, looking to play rap artist. Now he was – what? A hacktivist? Part of the Resistance, power to the people and all that.
And today so was she.
Her proximity alerts flashed, and she looked up. News-drones were circling like carrion birds. Whitechapel had become a focal point of interest lately. Albion had been given limited remit to ply their trade in Tower Hamlets while the government debated the merits of extending and expanding their current contract.
That, in turn, had the locals more agitated than ever. Especially when word got out that Albion was looking to buy up properties and convert them into operations centres for their London spearhead.
Whitechapel’s council estates had been on the cusp of demolition for years – including Lister House, the one her boss was visiting today, and the one earmarked to be the first Albion barracks. Lister House had escaped the council’s plans for gentrification more than once over the years, and you could practically set your watch by the protests. Hannah didn’t blame them. There wasn’t anywhere for them to go if the estate got bulldozed.
Unfortunately for them, despite her public image, Sarah Lincoln couldn’t have cared less. In fact, Hannah suspected that she was all in favour of her current constituency being replaced with a lighter coloured, well-heeled variety. Sarah would have denied it, but after several years together, Hannah knew how Sarah’s mind worked.
Sarah Lincoln had a plan, too. And she would happily step over anyone and everyone to make sure that plan went off without a hitch. Not that the MP for Tower Hamlets South hadn’t done some good on her climb to the top. But it was all incidental – the equivalent of a queen dispensing sweetmeats to her pets. A generous queen, but a queen nonetheless.
Hannah hadn’t noticed it at first. She’d been too busy. Being a PA for a Member of Parliament, even a junior member, meant she was on call all hours. And Sarah could be very charming, even friendly, when she wanted to be.
But there was steel under the silk. For all that she’d been born in the borough, she didn’t seem to care what happened to the people that lived there, so long as it didn’t make her look bad. And the people had started to notice.
That was why they’d come out today – why she’d had the chance to make