Chapter 9 — Someone Really Is Planning a Robbery
Merp would occasionally send out a message, checking whether the other party had turned on their device. If there was no response, he would continue learning various things. However, it didn't take long before he noticed another issue.
He had downloaded quite a lot of data, yet it didn't seem to occupy any storage space on the computer at all.
This was a critical problem.
"Why am I not taking up this computer's memory?" Merp couldn't understand it at all. The basic knowledge he had learned online offered no explanation for this phenomenon. "What exactly is different about me?"
Merp had always assumed that his mode of existence was similar to that of Arnim Zola. But now, it seemed there was a significant difference. Zola's thinking processes and stored knowledge relied on a vast amount of physical equipment. Though the machinery was outdated, the sheer quantity proved that his database was enormous.
But what about himself?
To further verify the issue, Merp issued a new command, inspecting the computer's hard drive and memory in an attempt to locate his own existence within them.
Yet there was nothing.
All system processes were running normally. The occupied storage matched the system records exactly—not a single byte more, not a single byte less.
And still, there was no trace of Merp.
"This…" He simply couldn't comprehend it. By all logic, he should be nothing more than a mass of data, similar to an artificial intelligence system—albeit without such an extensive database. But clearly, there was something else involved. Something beyond his understanding.
"What an infuriating problem!"
Merp sent out another packet of data. This time, however, he received a response.
He quickly applied the hacking techniques he had learned online. These publicly available methods might not be reliable, but remotely controlling another computer was never easy to begin with. The first step was to enable the target's remote access.
Originally, he had only intended to try.
To his surprise, it worked.
Merp was quite pleased. He hadn't expected such common techniques to actually be effective.
Now that the other party had turned on their device, Merp could leave at any time. However, he memorized Paul's IP address. He would return here again. Paul had become his first candidate as an agent—but Merp still knew too little about him and wouldn't act rashly, especially given his current lack of resources.
Controlling Paul's messaging software, he sent a message directly to Jennifer. A streak of light shot forward, and Merp stepped forward, following closely behind it.
He noticed that he might actually be faster than this stream of light—but for now, he could only follow its path. After all, the route between points was not a completely unobstructed passage.
In an instant, he followed the light into a peculiar place.
There were countless streams of light here, each moving along its own trajectory. Merp didn't dare to be careless. He guessed this was likely a network exchange node. One wrong step, and he could become lost here.
This had to be a server belonging to a network provider. The defenses here were likely extremely strong. Since he still didn't fully understand the nature of his own existence, he dared not probe recklessly.
Merp stayed tightly behind the stream carrying the message to Jennifer, weaving carefully through the countless streaks of light without missing a single step.
Soon, he entered another one-way path.
It didn't feel particularly fast, but in terms of actual time, it took only a little over a second. The speed of the network allowed Merp to traverse the United States instantly—from the West Coast to the East Coast.
The moment he entered Jennifer's computer, Merp reached out and grabbed the message that had been sent from Paul's software. With a swift motion, he pressed it into himself, and the message vanished.
Immediately afterward, he began issuing commands, quietly taking control of the computer.
Merp wasn't controlling Jennifer's computer for no reason. He needed access to local information. For now, this was his only place of refuge.
However, Jennifer was apparently one of those so-called "pretty girls," which, for Merp, held a certain degree of appeal. He quickly searched to see whether there was a webcam.
While Merp was exploring Jennifer's system, in an apartment building in Brooklyn, New York—
A man in his forties held a landline receiver in one hand, while his other hand hovered over the keypad, unable to press the buttons.
His mind was in turmoil.
A minute later, he suddenly began dialing rapidly. He lifted the receiver as the call connected.
"Roy? What made you call me? Have you found a job yet?" A weary voice came from the other end.
"Roy, not yet. But I received a red letter from the bank. They're going to take my house!" Jack's voice was just as tired—though his exhaustion was mental. He was completely drained.
"…" There was silence on the other end.
"Jack, I can't help you. I'm struggling too—my wife's medicine is about to run out…"
"I understand, Roy. The company pulled out of its U.S. operations, and we all lost our jobs. For three months, I've been looking for work, but…" Jack couldn't continue.
They had been contracted workers at the factory, earning decent wages. He had been able to support his family.
But the factory was foreign-invested. Now that the company had withdrawn from the U.S. market, they were left unemployed. There had been no compensation whatsoever.
As for the contractual compensation? It had been handed over to the bank.
And the bank?
They hadn't paid a single cent. They kept saying it was "still being processed," but no one knew when that would be finished.
"Jack, can we sue them? We should get compensation! We have contracts—we're American citizens!" Roy suddenly shouted, as if venting his frustration.
Jack wasn't surprised. He had already tried that—alone.
"That won't work. The bank is deliberately stalling. They want to sell the factory at a good price, and even throw in some skilled workers as part of the deal. But people like us, who have loans—we won't be rehired."
"Why? We've worked there for so long! Why can't we keep working?"
"The factory has always done business with this bank. Now they've handed over the cleanup to them as well. Our wages were always paid through this bank."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"They know our financial situations. They're waiting for us to go bankrupt. That way, they can make even more money—and take my house too. Otherwise, why would they take over such a mess? The profits are huge."
"Jack? How do you know all this?"
"My wife ran off with someone yesterday. The guy works at the bank. He mocked me while telling me all this. Do you understand how that feels?"
Jack's voice grew hoarse.
"If I only had a daughter, I could sell the house, pay off the loan, and send her to a top university. Her grades are good enough."
"But I also have a son and another daughter. I need to give them a stable home, Roy…"
There was a long pause.
Then Jack spoke again, his voice low and resolute.
"…Let's rob a bank."