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just hoped
she’d make sense of it when they were standing in front of
it.
    Still have to
get there first , Jen reminded herself . T hey’d be
lucky just to get a
shot at the jam; security around the University had tightened in
recent months due to petitioning from Global Integrated Systems.
They didn’t appreciate vandals destroying their equipment and they
were growing tired of dispatching technicians to fix it. The
Australian president, Mark Strathfield, was a Global Integrated
Systems lapdog. Everyone knew it. Nobody complained – they’d voted
for him. They’d voted for the policies that Global Integrated
Systems had proposed anyway, Mark Strathfield was just a puppet.
But along with his three-year term – only nine-months complete –
came changes beneficial to the goliath computer manufacturer.
Besides the lucrative advertising contract, they’d stitched a deal
granting the corporation first recruiting rights from University
graduates. Then there were the big bucks they tossed at curriculum
development , which had the effect of whitewashing history texts and strategically
placing commercials inside lecture theatres. It riled Jen to think
of the Suits sitting around a boardroom, hammering out deals that
affected the quality of her education.
    “ Well,” Jen
said, shattering the tense silence that had settled between them.
“This is our last opportunity to pull out.”
    Samantha vehemently shook
her head. “Not a chance.”
    “ That’s what I
thought.” Jen nodded once and flipped the lid on her rucksack. She
pulled a black jacket over her conspicuous tank top and buttoned it
up at the front. “Ready?”
    “ Let’s
go.”
    They skirted the vending
machines on light feet, heading for the only door they knew they
could bypass. It was made entirely of glass, straight from the
‘40s.
    Jen plopped
the rucksack onto the ground and took Cookie’s GT-field-jammer in
both hands, not yet convinced it would work. Samantha nodded
encouragement and she held it to each of the four alarm plates
until the red LED flashed green. Then she pulled the handle,
expecting an alarm to shriek. The glass was heavy, but the door
open ed quietly with
a gust of outbound air that smelled like stale chewing
gum.
    They ducked inside, the
anxiety of the moment wiring their mouths shut. Jen cast one
furtive glance across the quadrangle, her eyes lingering on their
target. The massive plasma screen showed a proud father smiling at
his son who stood receiving his degree from the Chancellor of the
University. It oozed majesty, and delight, and profound happiness,
and made Jen’s stomach churn in disgust. The graduate held a
portable computer in his other hand and the words underneath read,
“Would you trust an education not earned on a Global Integrated
System?” It was one from a series of ads designed to strengthen
their stranglehold on society.
    “ Are you
coming?” Samantha didn’t want to stay in dangerous territory any
longer than necessary.
    “ Yeah.” It
sounded dreamy until she snapped fully out of her trance. “Yeah,
I’m coming.”
    They weaved through the
maze of corridors until they’d crossed to the far side of the
quadrangle, immediately behind the electronic billboard on the
second floor.
    “ That must be
it.” Jen stabbed a finger at the small panel mounted chest-height
on the wall. A plethora of green lights indicated the system was
functioning optimally. Overkill if you ask
me, Jen thought. The
previous model was a synch – remove the old image-board and insert
the new one. Global Integrated Systems had spent millions
developing this system , which they ’d boldly announced was hack-proof. Jen remembered the leer on
Cookie’s face when he’d heard the announcement. Foolish. They must’ve known they were throwing down a
gauntlet. It was like a red rag to a bull
for everyone in the ad-jamming business. Jen couldn’t be sure how
many other jammers had found a way to circumvent the security on
the new