The Light of Other Days by Arthur Clarke & Stephen Baxter

Author:Arthur Clarke & Stephen Baxter [Clarke, Arthur]
Format: epub
Tags: sf_space
ISBN: 0312871996
Published: 2000-02-29T21:00:00+00:00

*

She took a break. She slept a while, bathed, then prepared herself a meal (breakfast, at three in the afternoon).

She knew she wasn't the only citizen putting the new facilities to use like this.

All around the country, she'd heard, truth squads were forming up, using WormCam and Internet. Some of the squads were no more than neighbourhood watch schemes. But one organization, called Copwatch, was disseminating instructions on how to shadow police at work in order to provide a "fair witness" to a cop's every activity. Already, it was said, this new accountability was having a marked effect on the quality of policing; thuggish and corrupt officers -- thankfully rare anyhow -- were being exposed almost immediately.

Consumer groups had suddenly gained power, and were daily exposing scams and con artists. In most states, detailed breakdowns of campaign finance information were being posted, in some cases for the first time. There was a lot of focus on the Pentagon's more obscure activities and its dark budget. And so on.

Heather relished the idea of concerned private citizens, armed with WormCam and suspicion, clustering around the corrupt and criminal like white blood cells. In her mind there was a simple causal chain lying behind fundamental liberties: increased openness ensured accountability, which in turn maintained freedom. And now a technological miracle -- or accident -- seemed to be delivering the most profound tool for open disclosure imaginable into the hands of private citizens.

Jefferson and Franklin would probably have loved it -- even if it would have meant the sacrifice of their own privacy...

There was noise in her study. A muffled giggling.

Heather, barefoot, crept to the half-open door. Mary and a friend were sitting at Heather's desk. "Look at that jerk," Mary was saying. "His hand keeps slipping off the end."

Heather recognized the friend, Sasha, from the class above Mary's at high school, was known among the local parents' mafia as a Bad Influence. The air was thick with the smoke from a joint -- presumably one of Heather's own store.

The WormCam image was of a teenage boy. Heather recognized him, too, as one of the boys from school -- Jack? Jacques? He was in his bedroom. His pants were around his ankles, and before a SoftScreen, with more enthusiasm than competence, he was masturbating.

She said quietly, "Congratulations. So you hacked your way through the nanny."

Both Mary and Sasha jumped, startled. Sasha waved futilely at the cloud of marijuana smoke.

Mary turned back to the 'Screen. "Why not? You did."

"I did it for a valid reason."

"So it's all right for you but not for me. You're such a hypocrite, Mom."

Sasha stood up. "I'm out of here."

"Yes, you are," Heather snapped after her retreating back. "Mary, is this you? Spying on your neighbours like some sleazy voyeur?"

"What else is there to do? Admit it, Mom. You're getting a little moist yourself."

"Get out of here."

Mary's laugh turned to a theatric sneer, and she walked out.

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