Transmission 007 // “The Spare Key”
Amelia broke the silence first.
“What are your ideas, Marv?”
He didn’t miss a beat.
“We start simple—with EverLink. If Helpmann is a name, we’ll find it there. Then we’ll know we’re on the right track.”
Marv leaned in, angling his mouth toward the laptop’s microphone.
“Evie, search EverLink socials for the surname Helpmann—two N’s.”
Silence.
He glanced at the screen, frowning. “Evie?”
Still nothing. Just the quiet whir of the hard drive, and the distant drone of a television downstairs.
“Weird,” he muttered, repeatedly tapping the keyboard. “Is your connection down?”
“No.”
Amelia’s voice was sharp.
“It’s not working because I turned it off.”
Marv leaned back with a theatrical sigh, arms flung wide like he was offering himself to the ceiling gods.
“Of course you did. Why would you want to make life easier? That would be insane.”
Amelia folded her arms.
“That thing is listening everywhere, but I don’t want it in here.”
“Alright, alright. No help from the omnipotent robot genie then. I guess we’ll save our three wishes for later.”
Marv cracked his knuckles and stretched out like a cat.
“Old-school it is.”
He pulled up the EverLink homepage and typed into the search bar.
Amelia leaned forward.
The cursor blinked. The screen refreshed.
52 profiles
Names began to spill down the page alphabetically. Men and women, young and old, scattered across the Commonwealth like seeds on the wind—all connected by the same eight letters that had crawled out of her mother’s cipher.
Helpmann.
Amelia stared at the screen. Her heart stuttered, then surged.
“It is a name,” she whispered.
Marv nodded, eyes scanning the screen.
“And it’s a rare one. Only fifty-two people in the entire Commonwealth.”
“One of them could be who we’re looking for,” Amelia said, almost to herself.
Marv pulled the trackpad down and the faces began to scroll—a parade of smiling strangers, one after another. He stopped near the bottom of the list.
“Ursula Helpmann,” he read, clicking a profile at random.
The image framed a petite woman with silver hair and sharp cheekbones. She was at a birthday party—maybe her own. A cake, iced with a large number seventy, sat next to her elbow.
Amelia studied the image, searching for a spark, a clue, anything.
Marv rocked gently in the chair across from her.
“Could it be her, Marv?”
He didn’t look convinced.
“Says she’s based in Granite Springs,” Marv read. “That’s a full day’s drive from here. I mean, that on its own doesn’t prove anything. But, if that birthday cake’s hers, then she’s over seventy years old. That would’ve made her at least sixty when your parents died.”
He paused.
“How old were they… your folks?”
“Mom was thirty-four and Dad was thirty-six,”
“Uh-huh.” Marv nodded.
“So yeah, technically, Ursula makes the list. But I don’t see her as a serious contender. I think our guy—or girl—was closer to your parents. Same orbit. Same age group. Ursula’s twice their age and lives in the mountains. Think about it, Ames. Is this who you call when your world goes sideways?”
He gave the profile one last glance, then shook his head and kept scrolling.
“Look at this one.” He clicked a profile further up the list.
“Nathan Helpmann. Says he’s based in Greenhaven.”
The image showed a man in his twenties—blond and square-jawed, with a smirk that looked like it had been perfected in front of a mirror.
“Ugh,” Amelia screwed up her face. “You just know that’s his EverDate profile picture too.”
“Definitely,” Marv agreed. “Swipe right. Our boy Nathan’s the opposite of Ursula. Not a day over twenty-five. Ten years ago he was probably in middle school. Younger than we are now. Definitely one for the ‘no’ column.”
He thought about it.
“I’d say a current age of thirty-five to sixty is the sweet spot.”
“Thirty-five to sixty,” Amelia echoed. “Okay. That should narrow the field.”
Her finger hovered over another profile.
“What about her?”
This woman looked to be in her mid-forties—about the right age. She had blonde hair and ice blue eyes. Her expression was unreadable. The kind of face that didn’t give much away.
“Ilse Helpmann,” Amelia read aloud, stumbling slightly on the name.
“Foreign name, maybe? Never heard it before,” Marv said. “Age fits. Where’s she based?”
“On the East Coast—New Brighton.”
Marv nodded slowly.
“That’s the other side of the country. But, your dad was into politics, right? He might have travelled there. New Brighton’s like a theme park for politicians. Biggest voter base in the country… and it’s where the big hitters, like Marcus Thorne, live.”
Amelia didn’t answer. She just kept looking.
The woman stared back.
“She’s about the same age as them, Marv. And she has that look. Like she knows… something.”
Marv tilted his head.
“So? One for the shortlist?” He said.
“Could be. I don’t know.”
Marv nodded.
“Okay, let’s come back to her.”
They sat in silence. The image of Ilse Helpmann burning on the screen.
Amelia’s eyes didn’t move.
“Let’s just think about this for a second, Marv. Not just who we’re looking for—who else was involved.”
She raised one finger.
“First of all, my mom. We know she wrote the message.”
A second finger.
“My dad… they came for him too. I think he must have been part of whatever this was.”
Then, a third.
“Helpmann. No doubt they’re involved.”
A fourth.
“And then there’s the person the message was meant for.”
She looked at him. Took a long pause.
“There’s one more though…
whoever came for my mom and dad. Whoever took them. That’s—”
She didn’t finish the sentence. She just pulled back her thumb, and lifted her hand towards Marv. Palm out, fingers spread.
Five.
“That changes things, Marv. This message…. It’s not part of a conversation. It’s part of something else. Something bigger. It’s…”
Her voice cracked and lowered.
“A conspiracy.”
The word landed hard. Neither of them said anything else. For a while, they just sat in the weight of it. Then Amelia exhaled.
“There’s something deeper going on here,” she said. “I can feel it. But, all we have right now is this name.”
Marv nodded. She continued.
“So, let’s keep following it. Maybe that’s how we unlock this.”
They started to scroll again, through a patchwork of names and faces—all types of people from across the Commonwealth. Marv tossed out theory after theory. Amelia shut most of them down. Eventually, they came full circle. Ursula stared out at them again—still enjoying her birthday—sandwiched snugly between Taylor Helpmann and Yvonne Helpmann.
“Déjà vu,” Marv sighed, rubbing his eyes with clenched fists.
“I don’t know, Ames. Maybe our Helpmann is in here somewhere, but I’m not sure how we can find them with only names and profile pictures to go on.”
Amelia sagged, hands falling into her lap.
“ You’re right. Let’s face it, Marv, we might be chasing a ghost.”
He raked a hand back through his hair.
“Maybe, but we could do it if we had more data.”
He gestured at the screen.
“EverLink keeps profiles pretty locked down now. All you get is a name, location, and a picture. That’s it. The privacy laws changed a few years ago. If you want to see someone’s full info, you’ve basically got three options—link with that person, get a job at EverLink, or work for the government.”
Amelia let out a frustrated groan.
“Typical. Evie grows a conscience, and screws me over in the process.”
Marv snorted a laugh, but there was no real humor in it.
“We can send Link requests to all fifty-two people now,” he said. “See who accepts, and then research them more. But, let’s be honest… that’s not really a plan. That’s a prayer.”
Amelia’s gaze bore into the screen.
“So, all this was pointless?”
Marv shook his head, already shifting gears.
“No, Ames. Not pointless. Not at all.”
He nodded toward the list.
“Actually… when you think about it, its been pretty useful.”
“How do you figure that?”
“Because this was a test. A proof of concept. At first, we thought Helpmann might be a name. Now we know it is.”
She sat with her arms crossed, shoulders slightly hunched. Didn’t answer.
Marv kept going.
“Think of it this way. We started with nothing but a word. A word that might be a name. The name of one person, in a country of three hundred and fifty million. That’s a needle in a haystack, right?”
He pointed to the screen.
“Now we’ve got a list. Names. Faces. Suspects. Our needle’s not in the haystack anymore. Instead, we’re looking for it in a box with fifty-one other needles.”
He shrugged.
“Still not easy. But I like those odds way more.”
Amelia stared at the screen for a long moment, her jaw clenched.
“Okay. I get it. That is progress, I guess. But what the hell do we do now? Just try to connect with them all, and then just… wait?”
She pushed herself off the mattress and began to pace in tight loops, agitation in every step.
“It could be anyone on this list. Or no one. There’s no guarantee our Helpmann even has an EverLink profile is there?”
She turned—eyes fiery, voice trembling.
“And I need to find them, Marv. Not next week. Not someday. Now.”
Marv didn’t answer. He was looking at the wall, eyes distant.
“Marv?” Amelia snapped. “Are you even listening?”
He blinked back into the room.
“Sorry, Ames—yeah, I am. I was just…”
He rubbed his neck, his gaze orbiting hers but never quite landing.
Amelia knew that look. He was sitting on something.
“Just say it, Marv… Whatever it is.”
He didn’t answer.
“Say it,” she pressed harder.
He shrunk back in the chair, like he was trying to disappear.
Amelia’s eyes pinned him down.
“Marv.”
Eventually, he cracked.
“Okay…
I…
Well…
Oh, to hell with it.”
He looked up at her.
“I know a way to go deeper, Ames. A way to find every single Helpmann in the Commonwealth. No exceptions.”
Amelia’s spine straightened.
“Tell me.”
Marv’s hand pressed to his mouth, like his body was trying to push the words back in.
“Okay. Right. So… yeah. There’s a way. It’s just—”
He trailed off.
“It’s not exactly legal.”
Amelia’s eyes narrowed.
“What do you mean, not legal?”
He raised his hands—half defense, half surrender.
“Just… hear me out.”
He swiveled the chair in her direction, meeting her head-on.
“Most people are on EverLink. It’s hard not to be these days, right? But not everyone has an account. My Great Aunt Fola, for example. She flat out refuses to get one. She’s convinced that Evie is some kind of evil spirit that wants to steal her soul.”
“She might not be altogether wrong about that” Amelia replied.
Marv couldn’t tell if she was joking.
“So, anyway, like I said, there is something else. Something no one can hide from.”
“Go on.”
“The census.”
He watched her face as he spoke.
“Every ten years, the government runs a full population count. From newborns to nursing homes—everyone is included, no exceptions. They track a bunch of info and use it for population mapping, district funding, infrastructure. All that kind of stuff.”
He paused.
“EverLink’s a choice. The census isn’t.”
Amelia nodded slowly.
“Yeah… we covered it in Social Studies. But the public can’t access it, right?”
“Nope.”
He hesitated.
“But I might know where they keep it.”
“Marv. Tell me you didn’t.”
“Okay,” he said flatly, lifting his hands in submission. “I didn’t.”
Amelia’s glare turned scornful.
“It used to be locked down,” he said, voice tilting toward apology. “Probably buried on some hidden government server. But a couple years back, I read this post on a hacker forum, written by an ex-federal contractor.”
He leaned in, voice dropping like he was telling a ghost story.
“He said the government was modernizing. Upgrading. And as part of that, they moved everything…”
He pointed upward.
“…into the cloud.”
Amelia’s eyes followed his finger.
“And?”
Marv dropped his hands again.
“So, I did some digging. I figured they’d want something secure. Fast. State-of-the-art. Easily accessible. And, turns out, there was only one option that ticked all the boxes.
He gestured toward the browser window.
Amelia blinked.
“No… EverLink?”
He nodded.
“Bingo. They built a secure portal inside EverLink. Called it EverGov.”
Amelia’s jaw tightened. Her fingers curled into her hair.
“But it must be locked down, right?”
“Like a bank vault at Christmas.”
Marv kept going.
“It’s all right there. Hidden in plain sight. Running on Nakamura’s cloud infrastructure—same platform as EverLink. Just… higher fences.”
She stared.
“So we can’t get in?”
“I never said that. Here’s the thing about high fences, Ames…
Marv’s eyes twinkled behind his glasses.
“You can dig under them just the same.”
Amelia raised an eyebrow.
“Wasn’t easy,” he admitted, spinning the laptop toward her.
“EverGov’s security is pretty insane. Quantum encryption. Zero-trust architecture. AI anomaly detection. And—get this—neuromorphic intrusion monitoring.”
Amelia blinked.
“Marv, I don’t—”
He waved her off.
“Yeah, yeah. Read the room, Marv.”
“Okay, okay,” he said, hands held out like he was cradling a basketball. “Picture a medieval castle. Towers, turrets, battlements—all the usual stuff. But, this castle? The security doesn’t stop at the walls. Every single door inside is locked… and the locks randomize every few minutes.”
He spun his chair, staring up at the ceiling.
“And the guards? Not your standard flashlight-waving NPCs. These guys are like shapeshifting ninja-knights. Level-ten paranoid. Monitoring everything, all the time.”
He paused for effect.
“And, if they catch you snooping? They catapult you straight into the moat… then rebuild the whole damn castle, so you can’t find the door again.”
Amelia rubbed her forehead.
“Okay, Marv. I don’t know computers, but that sounds… impossible.”
“Oh yeah. Definitely impossible. Unless you’ve got this…”
He rummaged through his backpack and pulled out something that looked like it had barely survived an earthquake.
He dropped it on to the desk with a dramatic thud.
“What you’re looking at,” he said, like he was unveiling the future, “is the MarvTech Digital Scrambler. A one-of-a-kind prototype. Discovered by accident. Powered by caffeine and burritos. Built from stuff I found under my bed.”
The Scrambler was unmistakably homemade. A scorched circuit board formed the base, sprinkled with uneven solder. Wires spilled out like it had grown in a junkyard. A heatsink jutted from the side, and part of an old game controller sat crooked on top—mashed into a casing that looked suspiciously like a dismembered router.
“Two of its tricks can help us here,” Marv said. “First, it gives us an invisibility cloak. Hides our signal so nobody can trace us. Second, it fakes our credentials. Throws the right crest on our armor so the ninja knights don’t ask questions.”
He gave it a little wiggle. It rattled ominously.
Amelia stared.
“That does not inspire confidence, Marv.”
He tutted, flicking his chin up.
“Oh ye of little faith… It may look like space junk, but trust me—it works like witchcraft.”
He jammed the cable into the laptop.
The Scrambler sparked faintly. Possibly in protest.
A sickly blue light blinked on.
Amelia’s expression shifted.
“Marv… have you really done this before? Actually done it?”
He hesitated. Then shrugged.
“I may have peeked through the drawbridge. Briefly.”
Her eyes widened.
“I can’t believe you hacked a secure government database. What were you thinking?”
Marv winced.
“Hacked is such an ugly word. I prefer creative handshaking.”
A long pause stretched between them.
“I was looking for someone,” he said at last.
…My dad.”
Amelia’s eyes opened wider, twitching both brows upwards.
“You know he disappeared before I was born. Ghosted me and mom. We never heard from him again.”
His eyes dropped to the desk.
“I don’t know, Ames. I thought… maybe, if I found him in the system—just proved he still existed—that maybe…”
He trailed off.
Amelia didn’t speak. She just reached over and rested a hand on his arm. Marv gave her a small, crooked smile.
“I didn’t find him. But I left a key under the doormat, just in case I needed to go back.”
His hands hovered over the keyboard. Not typing. Not yet. The laptop screen glowed between them. Amelia stared at it. The pull in her chest was sharp. Constant. Impossible to ignore.
“Marv,” she whispered. “Are we really doing this?”
He shrugged.
“Up to you.”
She twisted a strand of hair.
“This is seriously illegal, right?”
“Yup.”
He spun the chair halfway around. Then back.
“What happens if we get caught?”
“If we get caught?” He looked serious now. “Well, it’s not detention, Ames, that’s for sure. My guess—arrest, trial, criminal record. In that order.”
Amelia’s throat tightened.
She glanced at the chess set.
Then the book.
Her face went still for a long moment. Then, she came back to life.
“I can’t stop here, Marv,” she said quietly. “Not now. I need to know what my mom was trying to tell me. I have to find out who Helpmann is.”
Marv’s smile was small. But real.
“Okay,” he said softly. So I guess it’s ride or die then, huh?”
She paused.
Then nodded.
“Yeah,” she breathed. “Ride or die.”
He turned to the laptop and rolled his shoulders like a boxer stepping into the ring.
“Alright then. Let’s find Helpmann.”
His fingers flew across the keys. Amelia watched, every muscle drawn tight.
At first—nothing.
Then a flicker.
A new page loaded.
SYSTEM ERROR. INVALID ACCESS TOKEN.
Marv cursed under his breath and kept typing.
Another flicker. Another failure.
“What’s wrong?” Amelia asked.
“The architecture’s updated,” he muttered, eyes scanning the code. “Should’ve seen that coming. Remember the key I mentioned? Well, the good news is that it’s still there. The bad news is… well, they moved the doormat.”
His fingers moved faster now.
“There’s probably still a way in. I can run a track-and-trace—
yeah, there it is, gotcha.
Now I just need to modify the handshake logic…
patch the bridge—come on, come on—”
Another flicker.
A pause.
The screen went black.
Silence stretched out.
Then, after what felt like an eternity, two words appeared:
ACCESS GRANTED.
