Static Rim

The Cabinet meetings are a show — sometimes quite grand, sometimes (maybe mostly) a one-man show. For me, they were usually boring. I had to pretend to care about everyone here, but I despised most. There was that awkward silence today. We’ve all experienced that feeling — at dinner parties, maybe — indicating someone was about to lie. Oh wait, today, I was the one going to lie.

“What should I make of the report the EU partners have shared with us?” clarified the Prime Minister, his patience visibly reduced. Dust motes danced in the shafts of Tbilisi sunlight hitting the round oak table — a table far too large for the cabinet members sitting around it. They looked at their leather-bound folders as if the answers were written there. They weren’t. The answers were in the screaming silence of the border, but none of them had the stomach for the truth.

I used to have respect for the man who had now become a Prime Minister. He was a decent economist years ago, but now he had fully merged with the party, completely becoming a mouthpiece for deceit and polarising insults.

“Their data is based on satellite images and anecdotal evidence of the so-called observers, who never come close to the territories within the occupied lines,” I said. My voice was persuasive. I didn’t flinch. I didn’t hesitate. “I am giving you facts from my informants, based on first-hand observations. Would you rather trust some outsiders than me?”

Of course, I was lying. I knew exactly what was happening. I’ve known for some time. At first, I didn’t believe myself, then I didn’t want to believe, but finally, I accepted it — the physics was shifting. The world was opening up to another universe, a brutal, wild, and bloody universe I once lived in. I couldn’t let anyone know, especially the members of this Cabinet: a collection of some corrupt, some simply incompetent, careerist politicians whose main concern was the money or their party positions, not even power.

“But our allies have given us data,” the Prime Minister countered. “There seem to be some sort of radio waves, I don’t even know what these words mean.”

“It’s seismic activity,” I responded. “I’ve spoken with experienced physicists and geologists — we are sitting on tectonic plates; this country has been seismically active, we all know this. EU analysts don’t understand that much; their knowledge is limited to theory. Slight shifts in seismology cause various telemetric activities. I have everything under control!” I was lying again, but then I couldn’t let the actual truth get out. I had my guesses — Russia was experimenting, as it has been for decades. Now they’ve outdone themselves; they’ve stumbled across power they cannot even begin to understand. I had to stop it before it got out of control, or more accurately, before it got out and doomed this planet to chaos.

“All right, keep me in the loop.”

“Understood, sir!” He was, after all, my superior. I was the Head of the Security Services of Georgia. The Prime Minister appointed me just about eighteen months ago. I had been working here for over ten years after my private consultancy had brought me immense success and a shitload of money. I was good at it. I’ve been good at it for centuries. I was even better at running things — something I’ve done for millennia.

A phone vibration snapped me out: “I’ve completed the test, we need to talk.” It was my husband, Levan.

“Ok, Levan, can you meet me in your office?” I texted back.

“I’ll be there in an hour,” he replied. He sounded serious. Levan was an IT developer, owner of a very successful startup and had a strong standing in the field. His company was working on a financial app, but I had asked him to check out web activity near the occupied territory — to find links or hints of what Russia has been doing.

“Can we speak of financial means requested by the Security Services?” quietly asked the Minister of Finance.

“What of them?” I snapped. I’ve known of so many mismanaged funds and I was battle-ready to safeguard resources to ensure my agency was well-funded.

“No, we understand the priority,” he continued, “but given the regular increases, are we sure we can afford an unplanned increase of 10% given that the threat, as you say, is not high?”

“That is a fair question.” I turned my politician mode on. “But we need to follow up on issues raised by our partners. Plus, we are advancing our efforts on cybersecurity, which requires highly costly endeavours.”

The discussion became boring, with nearly everyone weighing in with their “computer” knowledge and discussing the passwords they need to update regularly. I shot a glance at the Prime Minister, indicating it was time he ended this kindergarten class. He got my point.

“We trust Secretary Lomouri’s judgement on this, let’s wrap things up.”

They did, in an hour and a half. I was full of self-debate when I entered Levan’s office.

“You took your time,” I heard Levan’s low voice.

“Yeah, believe me, I wish I got here sooner than I did. What do you have for me?”

“You were right. Russians have been more active. The web trail shows a drastic increase in local IP activities. There must be massive power at work to leave such a trail. I took the liberty and checked open-source heat maps; unless they are mining cryptos, their energy signatures are inexplicably high, and these maps are only updated once a week or so.”

“Well, if they were doing this in Abkhazia, I would also believe in cryptocurrency mining, given we are providing them with free energy from the Enguri HPP, but in South Ossetia they have to pay for their own usage. With war costs in Ukraine, they wouldn’t be burdening themselves with such costs unless it was for military purposes,” I started thinking out loud.

“Do you want me to have someone dig the dark web?” Levan seemed eager to help, but I didn’t want his work involved in any of this. I had other plans — unpleasant, yet necessary.

“No, love, you’ve done more than enough. We can take it from here. I have means to follow up and you don’t have to take that risk. I’ll see you later tonight, ok?”

“That’s a date.” I saw his eyes sparkle. I wanted to give him something to look forward to, but we were cut off by my assistant — “Ma’am, sorry to interrupt, the Cube is ready for you.”

The Cube was a sterile, windowless sanctuary in the basement of the State Security Service office. I made sure it was equipped with state-of-the-art technology; this was the top priority when I joined Triple-S. The Cube made sure there was not even a theoretical chance of catching any signal inside or eavesdropping. It didn’t just block signals; it swallowed them. Here, gravity felt a fraction more insistent. It was the only place in the city where I didn’t have to pretend to be human, where the hum of the servers was the only company I could trust. The only risk of a leak here was the people in it — the greatest risk, if you asked me, yet unavoidable.

I was briefed about increased reports of unexplainable activity, but this time, it had reached the civilian population of South Ossetia. Meaning, the level of control was low. I was beginning to understand that I had to call Him. I couldn’t deal with this alone. But I needed to plan this carefully, He could be a threat, if not managed properly. I hadn’t seen Him in nearly 40 years, I needed to know what I would be dealing with. I instructed one team to monitor the situation and give me an update, while my more discreet team was set to look up anything they could find on Konstantine Gelovani.

I looked down at my phone: “When will you be home, I need to tell you something,” Levan’s message, was I wrong to ask him to check out web trails? Did I raise suspicion?