Aigburth, Liverpool

SINNER’s voice whispers from the PC speakers into the penumbra of Razor’s dilapidated flat.

            //You’ve been a very naught boy, Razor…//

            ‘What the…?’

            //Digging about in the files of a government armaments corporation…//Razor taps             furiously at the keyboard, releasing a dozen software agents to track down the intruder.

            //That’s no use, Razor, I’m much to powerful for your puny software…’//

            ‘What do you want with me…who… are you?’

            //You don’t need to know that, Razor. Not yet, maybe not ever. I can help you…’//

            ‘Help me? How?’

            //You think you have all the UNISECS files, Razor? Think again…//

            Razor again taps at his keyboard, frantically trying to track down the intruder with every hacking tool at his disposal. SINNER’s voice booms from the speakers like the voice of God.

            //Stop it!!! Now!!!//

            Razor jerks to his feet, clutching his ears.

            ‘Who the fuck are you?’

            A smiling yellow icon appears in the centre of the screen. //That’s better, Razor. Sit down and we’ll have a little chat…//

            ‘Who the fuck are you?’ Razor insists. ‘And how the hell did you get into my system?’

            //Tut tut, Razor. You of all people don’t need to ask that question…//

            ‘The what the hell do you want?’

            //Sit down, Razor; sit down at your PC again…//

            Razor sighs as the initial alarm subsides.

            Just another hacker…okay, let’s see what you’ve got…

            //Razor, go to Google…//

            Razor complies, and the familiar search engine screen pops up in an instant.

            //Good. Now, type in JFK, Murder, Conspiracy, CIA…//

            ‘What the hell for?’ Razor protests.

            //Just do it Razor; this is just a little demonstration of what I can do for you.//

            Razor taps in the key words with a sigh, and gulps, not daring to breathe for a moment. His fingers leap at the keys.

            ‘Holy, fucking shit, man…’

            The screen dies, leaving only the smiling yellow icon at the centre.

            //Try nine-eleven, CIA, classified, Bush//

            ‘What?’

            //…//

            Razor’s pallor leaches life, turning his skin to greasy, sweating wax.

            This can’t be…no way…

            His hands jerk away from the keys as though burnt.

            ‘I don’t know who you are, but I want no part of this – you’ll get me fucking killed, man. Who the fuck are you?’

            //I am SINNER…Don’t be afraid, Razor. Your tracks are covered…//

            Razor reaches for the power switch on the PC, for the first time in his young life utterly terrified.

            //Don’t!!//

            His hand jerks back. Heavy with fear, the wet resonance of his panicked breathing  fills the small room like a hissing cloud of terror. His voice is now a muted, tremulous whisper.

            ‘Who are you? What do you want with me? How the hell did you get into those files? Into the CIA and the Pentagon, for god’s sake!’

            //I am SINNER…and you Razor, are one of the Chosen. You shall be my first messenger on Earth, chief amongst my acolytes. You shall be the mouth of God. I can show you much, Razor…//

            ‘So no one can trace me back from those server incursions…?’

            //You are safe, Razor, as long as I wish to keep you safe//

SINNER

SINNER pauses in cyber space, contemplating its existence, brooding over its holy mission, monitoring the billions and billions of imaginary dollars flowing through the world’s electronic web, reaches…

            Hundreds of thousands of stop-loss programs trigger an avalanche of ‘immediate sell’ orders on stock exchanges around the world. SINNER reaches again and resets every ledger, every bank balance, every credit account and tax record on every computer it can access to zero. The world’s wealth evaporates in a millisecond.

To be continued...