Tim Washburn - Cyber Attack

Hassan soon grows bored with the pestering and of all the women fawning over the bride. He stands and gives Ayesha a peck on the cheek before hurrying off to play with his other cousins. A large family, the Ansaris have been productive when it comes to offspring. The event has drawn family from all over the area, many of them children ranging in age from toddler to teen. Hassan finds his cousin Nadeem, and together they set off to do a little exploring.

The wedding is taking place in the backyard garden of Ayesha’s home on the outskirts of the city in the foothills of Hindu Kush mountains. Hassan and Nadeem escape the backyard to explore the neighborhood—what turns out to be a lifesaving choice.

As they venture down the block, chasing after a lizard, both are stunned when a ground-rattling explosion rips through the afternoon silence. Hassan turns to see what had blown up and his heart plunges into despair when he sees his uncle’s house on fire. His chest tightening with fear, Hassan races up the street with Nadeem as dazed neighbors pour out of the surrounding homes. As the two boys near the house, the fire is so intense they can do little but watch.

In the aftermath, after the injured were treated or rushed to the hospital in town Hassan discovered that his immediate family survived, but sixteen of his cousins did not, including the beautiful bride-to-be, Ayesha.

Present day, somewhere near Boston

An ignited ember of anger still resides inside Hassan Ansari’s gut and probably will until the day he dies. Sometimes it flares brighter and other times he does his best to ignore it, but today it’s roaring as he remembers the horror of that day. Hassan runs a hand through his thick, dark hair and leans back in his chair. Right now, he’s running a program on his computer to discover if he can access any of the other MOAB bombs deployed around the world.

They got extremely lucky with the one bomb in McAlester, Oklahoma, after the internal guidance computer connected to the local Wi-Fi network. While the computer hunts, Ansari stands and stretches before walking over to the small break room to pour a cup of coffee. He’s been mulling over the confrontation between Jermar and Nazeri, and, for the first time, a small larva of doubt tries to worm its way into his brain. Hassan takes a sip of coffee then prowls through the cabinets looking for a snack.

Nazeri has been attentive to their needs up to now, bringing in food, snacks, and drinks during the long days of work. But it’s now well past the lunch hour and there’s no food in sight. Hassan finds a bag of Chex Mix, rips it open, and pours some in a bowl and pops a handful into his mouth. He pours the coffee down the drain and grabs a bottle of water from the fridge instead.

Nazeri also promised that Hassan and the others would be provided for after termination of the operation, yet gave few details. Hassan unscrews the lid on the bottle and takes a sip, his mind swirling with a mixture of thoughts. Everyone is working under the assumption that their chances of being caught are somewhere between slim and none, but Hassan wonders. He’s worked an odd computer job here and there over the years and funneled that money into a savings account he opened on a trip down to Manhattan. And, if absolutely necessary, he could hack a bank or two for funds, but he doesn’t like stealing. Then another thought hits him: How bad is stealing after everything I’ve done today? And for the first time he sees himself in a new light. One he’s not particularly pleased with. From this day forward Hassan Ansari, if his actions are ever discovered, will be known as a cold-blooded murderer and will, most likely, be branded a terrorist.

That thought makes him somewhat nauseous. No longer hungry, he puts the bag of Chex Mix back in the cabinet and dumps the contents of the bowl in the trash. Then his thoughts drift to the friends he’d made over the years while in college . Could any of them have died in today’s attacks ? Mulling that over, he returns to his computer and discovers the software has found another active bunker buster bomb at a military base in Japan. He stares at the screen for a long time, his brain roiling with indecision. Looking up, he spots Nazeri walking his way and he quickly exits the program.

“Have you found other active bombs, Hassan?” Nazeri asks.

“No,” Hassan lies, still staring at his screen.

Nazeri cocks his head to the side. “That’s odd. You would think with all of the American military hardware scattered around the globe we would find additional targets. Did you allow the software time to complete its task?”

“Yes,” Hassan says in his sternest voice as he glances up at Nazeri. “There are no more active bombs. Run the program yourself if you do not believe me.”

“I just might do that,” Nazeri says.

“Have a go. Do you need assistance pulling the program up on your computer?” Hassan asks, staring Nazeri in the eyes.

“Watch yourself, Hassan.”

Hassan breaks the stare first and Nazeri turns and walks away.

Hassan leans forward and removes the tape covering the computer’s camera then scrolls to the program that controls the camera and switches it on. He turns the monitor slightly until Nazeri’s face is in the frame and surreptitiously snaps several photos and saves them inside an encrypted folder in the cloud. He replaces the tape and sits back in his chair, thinking.

Nazeri is the one who decides which portion of the power grids to take down. It wouldn’t do to kill the power to a potential target—how are you going to blow something up if it’s not up and running? Hassan has no doubt that by the time this is all over with most of the United States will be without electricity. Then he wonders what that means for his apartment here in Boston. He has enough food for a day or two, but the power’s going to be out much longer than that due to the damage they’re doing to the transformers. Will I ever see my apartment again? My friends? It’s an unanswerable question and he tries to clear his mind. He turns to look at Nazeri, who is seated at the head of the table, grinning eagerly as his fingers fly across the keyboard.

“What are you doing, Nazeri?” Hassan asks.

Nazeri never looks up when he says, “I’m sending a gift to the people of Los Angeles.”

Hassan shudders at his enthusiasm. Hassan, who became enchanted with the movie The Wizard of Oz shortly after arriving in the States, thinks of Nazeri as the Tin Man. But unlike the movie character, it appears Nazeri has no need for, nor does he want, a heart.

Los Angeles

Loretta Ortiz leads her two sons into the park, pleasantly surprised to see several other families already there. It appears Loretta wasn’t the only one who thought a picnic lunch would be a good idea today. Blankets dot the grass and food is laid out on platters as children flit in and out, grabbing a bite of food before hurrying off to play again. Loretta says hello to the other mothers and spreads her blanket out in the deep shade, next to her friend and fellow teacher Renata Rodriguez. After opening the basket, she lays some sandwiches out for the boys and both grab one and head out to join their friends.

Loretta smiles at Renata. “Ready for school?”

“I don’t know about school, but I’m ready for a routine.” Renata, mother to eight-year-old Sofia and six-year-old Sara, is a short, chubby woman who always has a smile on her face.

Loretta pulls her legs up beneath her as she scans the park, pinpointing the location of her two sons. “Me, too. Have you met the new principal?”