Dome Nine

Dome Nine

A Classic American Myth Re-Imagined

(LFB/MGM)

By John Purcell

Copyright 2013 John Purcell

Smashwords Edition

(A quick word about fonts: the character Bim speaks almost inaudibly. To reflect this, his dialog is intentionally written in a smaller font size. This difference has been preserved in EPUB format, but not in HTML. Other formats may vary.)

Part One: Dome Nine

Chapter 1

10.11.2173.9:29PM

I’m not sure why my father programmed me to keep this diary, since I remember everything that happens to me. Even so, each night before shutdown I spend 60 seconds creating a text file about the previous 16 hours. On average, I only spend 1.3 seconds, because there isn’t much to report.

Today, for example, I went to school, which is always the same, then I went to work, which is always the same, and then I came home, as I always do. After my chores, I helped my great grandniece with her homework, helped my grandnephew with an accounting problem, and played checkers with our iPup. Then I came up to my room and watched TV until shutdown.

These are the things I do every day and remember in every detail, and yet I’ve created and stored thousands of text files, all very similar, documenting these events. I have trouble understanding what purpose this serves.

This morning, however, something happened that is worth reporting: I had a thought that seemed to come from nowhere. It’s such a simple idea that I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me sooner.

As of today, I will begin using this diary to set down my experiences as though I’m reporting them to someone else, instead of to myself.

I realize this entry is very short, but I am going to use the remaining 59.7 seconds before shutdown to scan my processors, to try to find out where this new thought came from.

Entry complete.

Chapter 2

10.12.2173.9:29PM

My thought was triggered by a burst of new program code. This is highly unusual. I traced it back to processor 443K and hit an access code I couldn’t break. I will keep trying to break it, but I’ll need over two hours of uninterrupted processing time. This won’t be easy to find.

In any case, my name is Teo. TEO stands for Trans-processor External Overlay, a piece of circuitry my father invented. My TEO’s allow me to think as humans do.

I live in Dome Nine, in the Greater Philadelphia Seacoast Complex, with my grandnephew, Drake Jomes, his wife, Eppi, and their daughter, Luma.

I’m in 5th grade at Ryesong Elementary School, which is 1.1 miles from our house. Luma, who is ten years old, is in 5th grade as well, and we walk to school together every day, except Sundays. We walk home together, too, but I drop her off and continue on to DynaLink International, where I work.

I’ve been working at DynaLink for 79 years 337 days. Mr. Wu, who runs DynaLink, is much kinder than his father, who died in 2141. One week ago, he threw me the only birthday party I’ve ever been given. It was just the two of us and took place in his office, but I thought it was a nice gesture.

Even though she’s my great grandniece, I consider Luma a friend. Today at recess, she punched Dogan Nath for calling me names. On the way home, I told her she shouldn’t have done it because I have no feelings to hurt. She said it hurt her feelings.

Luma looks much the way her grandmother did at her age, although she’s smarter by far. She’s prettier, too, but this is obscured by her short hair and tomboy clothing.

As for my own appearance, my father did everything possible to make me look like a normal ten-year-old boy. I think he was successful, aside from my pale skin and coarse, blue-black hair. Generally speaking, though, it isn’t my appearance that gives me away. The fact that I don’t age, for example, is impossible to conceal. I’ve been 10 years old for 100 years.

Luma did something unusual at supper tonight, which is related, I think, to punching Dogan today. She made a fuss over the fact that I hadn’t been invited to Rayleen Scott’s birthday party, even though I’m not, as a rule, invited to parties of any kind.

Eppi, the perfect housewife, called us to the table and dished out the casserole.

When Drake asked Luma how school was, she said, It was horrible! Rayleen Scott was handing out invitations to her birthday party and she walked right past Teo’s desk. She just skipped him!

Drake is unimpressive in every way, although he seems to believe the opposite. He gave Luma a condescending look. "Her birthday party? Are you kidding? Teo doesn’t want to go to a birthday party! He turned to me. Am I right or am I right?"

He was expecting me to agree, but I appreciated Luma’s concern, so I said, I have no feelings one way or the other.

Luma frowned. That’s not the point anyway! Rayleen invited the whole class, except Teo! That’s just rude!

Drake took a gulp from his martini. Here’s an idea! Why don’t you invite a few WaitTrons, maybe a couple of JaniTrons, really liven things up?

"Cut it out, Dad! Teo isn’t a Menial and you know it. He’s smarter than me. He’s smarter than you!"

Drake’s face, already flushed, reddened some more. Watch yourself, young lady!

Eppi was poking at chunks of bean curd with her fork, off in her own world. She looked up for a moment. Luma, that’s enough.

Luma slapped her palm on the tabletop, rattling the dishes. I don’t care! I’m telling Rayleen tomorrow that I’m not going to her party unless Teo goes!

Drake said, When does this pointless gathering take place?

After school on Saturday.

"On Saturday? Teo has to work. He can’t take time off to go to a party."

I said, I have 647 vacation days saved up.

Luma beamed at me, then turned to Drake. See? It’s settled! Teo doesn’t do anything at that stupid job anyway!

Drake gave her a sarcastic smirk. Now who’s being rude to Menials?

Luma stuck out her tongue, ending the discussion.

When I came up to my room, I turned on the TV. They were showing It Happened One Night, but I paid no attention to it.

Luma hadn’t noticed, but I hadn’t agreed to go to the party. All I’d done was state the number of vacation days I’d accumulated.

I spent some time trying to figure out whether or not I wanted to go. That was difficult, though, because wanting is mostly a matter of emotion. Comparing both situations objectively was of no help.

I also thought about what Luma had said about my job. She was both right and wrong.

I test computer code for DynaLink, Monday through Saturday, 3 to 6 PM, 50 weeks a year. Mr. Wu always praises my work, because I’m approximately two hundred times faster than the humans who do the same job and I never make mistakes. In addition, my work earns us extra GR chits. So to say I’m not doing anything is obviously incorrect.

But I have no idea what all this code is used for, because the DataStream is strictly for GR use. No one I know ranks high enough to use it, except Mr. Wu. I have never seen the DataStream myself, or been told the purpose of all this code. So, in her own way, Luma had hit on the truth.

It occurs to me now that I don’t find my job very meaningful, or school either, for that matter. Without them, though, I don’t know what I would do with myself.

Entry complete.

Chapter 3

10.13.2173.9:29PM

On the way to school this morning, I told Luma that I'd decided not to go to the party. When she asked me why, I said it didn’t really interest me.

She gave me a look. "Teo, you nincompoop, that’s not a reason! Just tell me!"

I said, I don’t want to damage your friendship with Rayleen over a party that means nothing to me. You keep forgetting I have no feelings to hurt.

"You keep forgetting you’ve told me that a thousand times! Even if you don’t have feelings, you can see that Rayleen is just being mean!"

Luma, you can’t expect your friends to do anything but ignore me.

Luma turned suddenly and grabbed my hands. "Teo, I know you, and you’re just as good as any of my friends! And a lot better than stupid old Rayleen or that dimwit Dogan! Get that through your head! And you’re going to the party, so get that through your head, too!"

We walked the rest of the way in silence but I think she knew I appreciated her kindness.

As it turned out, Luma never had to confront Rayleen. Our new teacher, Miss Green, started the day with an announcement that took everyone by surprise. She asked all the kids to hand in the party invitations they’d been given the day before.

This caused a lot of excited whispering and Miss Green had to shush the class. Despite her youth and delicate features, she can be intimidating when she wishes. When the room was silent, she explained her policy on invitations: unless the entire class is invited to the party, no one is allowed to pass out invitations at school. Then she spelled it out to Rayleen: either invite everyone or send the invitations by mail.

Rayleen started to whine. But Miss Green, if I have to mail them no one will get them until next week!

Miss Green’s emerald eyes were cold. The solution is obvious.

And that’s how I ended up getting an invitation.

I’m not sure why Miss Green did what she did. She doesn’t act like any other 5th grade teacher I’ve ever had, and I’ve had 37. All the others have paid no more attention to me than they would have any other Menial.

The reason for this is simple: by the time my father created me, it had become clear that no one wanted androids to be fully human or have equal intelligence. They wanted them just smart enough and human enough to replace actual workers without adding costs.

At first glance, Menials look real, but their faces give them away. Aside from their uniforms, all Menials look exactly alike. More to the point, their faces are expressionless and their eyes stare vacantly. I have to admit that my own face shares some of these characteristics, particularly the lack of emotion.

Miss Green, however, treats me as though I’m human. At this point, I have no explanation for her behavior.

In any case, at recess, I was sitting on a bench over by the baseball diamonds and Dogan came up to me again, along with his playmates. He called me a DinkTron and told me that if I showed up at the party he would smash me to pieces. Then he tried to shove me backwards off the bench, but he couldn’t do it because I’m much heavier than I appear. So he threatened me again and then they all left. Thankfully, Luma didn’t see any of it.

Like most bullies, Dogan is big for his age, but he doesn’t have a bully’s face. His natural expression is one of confusion. I can’t really blame him for the way he acts. 2 years, 41 days ago, his father was killed in the war.

After school, I made a point of getting to work early so I could speak with Mr. Wu. I dropped off Luma and ran all the way to DynaLink, arriving at 2:49 PM.

When I walked into Mr. Wu’s office, Mrs. Po, his burly secretary, looked up and said, What do you want?

I said, I’d like to speak with Mr. Wu, please.

She pushed a button and said, Your Menial’s out here, and went back to work. She wasn’t trying to be rude. She just considered politeness a waste of time.

Mr. Wu, on the other hand, has always been polite to me, even as a young man. He’s grown heavier over the years and wears rimless spectacles now, but he still treats me with more respect than anyone else in Dome Nine, Luma excluded.

He opened his office door and gave me a smile. Hello, Teo, how nice to see you. Please come in.

After he showed me to a chair, he took a seat behind his desk. How can I help you?

I wanted to ask you if I could take the day off tomorrow.

He leaned back, pressing his fingertips together. Of course you may. Might I ask why?

I’ve been invited to a birthday party, after school.

He smiled again. Is that so? I can’t recall the last time you received such an invitation.

It was April 3rd, 2168.

Yes, of course. And this party is in honor of whom?

A classmate of mine named Rayleen Scott.

A friend of yours?

A classmate.

He raised his eyebrows. Are you implying that she’s not your friend?

I don’t think she likes me at all.

"And do you like her?"

I have no feelings one way or the other.

Mr. Wu nodded and said nothing further. He just sat there staring at me.

I stared back, waiting.

Finally, he said, You’d better hurry up and punch your timecard. I’d hate to break your winning streak. He stood up and gestured toward the door. It was wonderful to see you, Teo. I hope you have fun at the party.

For the rest of the day, I found my thoughts returning to the birthday party and to Dogan’s threat. Repetitive thoughts are usually the result of a feedback loop, but I haven’t been able to locate one. I’m going to run one more scan before shutdown.

Entry complete.

Chapter 4

10.14.2173.9:29PM

I am not at all sure what Miss Green’s behavior means. She is much more unusual than I would have ever guessed.

This afternoon in class, we began our unit on American history. I settled into my seat, preparing to listen again to the story I’ve heard 79 times before, about the Great Crash and the Glorious Salvation. We receive new history textbooks every so often but the wording never changes. It always reads:

In the mid-21st Century, all the nations of the world—except for United North Korea and China (UNK/C)—had come to depend on an information network known as the Internet for all their needs and desires. Without thinking clearly, they connected the world’s data to it, at all times, through wireless devices. Fortunately, UNK/C recognized the dangers inherent in this and created the DataStream, which was completely protected from failure.

When the Great Crash came, in 2073, the Internet ceased to exist and all data from governments, financial institutions and stock markets worldwide vanished. This led to chaos, civil war, and famine.

In an act of great heroism, UNK/C deployed peacekeepers across the developed world to restore order and hope. The era of the Glorious Salvation (2074-2082) began, guided by our Savior, Kim Jong-pil.

In 2075, Kim Jong-pil, in partnership with U.S. President Trip Savage, incorporated the United States into the Democratic People’s Global Republic (DPGR). Assisted by the GR, President Savage constructed the Domes that protect our cities from natural disaster, and the high-speed underground rail network that connects them to the Arctic farmlands.

It goes on from there, but the point is Miss Green’s behavior.

She took her place at the blackboard, called the class to order, and said, Today, children, I have the honor of teaching you the history of the Glorious Salvation. But before we get started, I wanted to say one thing.

She turned to me and said, Tears in my eyes I hail giving.

Then she turned back and started teaching the lesson word-for-word from the textbook, and never looked my way again.

She’d clearly meant her words for me, but they didn’t make any sense. I concluded that the sentence was an anagram and began sorting through all possible combinations of its 24 letters. It took 18 minutes 43 seconds before I got a result that made sense: Everything I’m saying is a lie.

I was still trying to assess this result when the bell rang and school let out for the day. I had to put the whole problem aside because every question led to more questions. And it was time to go to the birthday party.

When Luma and I got home, Eppi greeted us at the door and told us to go wash up. While we were in the bathroom, she backed our red and white ’59 Impala out of the garage and parked it by the front walkway. Then she came back inside and shooed us out the door.

Moto, our iPup, was racing in circles with excitement over the car ride. She dashed between our legs and down the walkway and jumped through the open window into the backseat, barking so wildly that Eppi had to hit the mute button.

It took us 11 minutes to get to Rayleen Scott’s house, which was on Paradise Avenue, all the way over in East Rim, near the GR barracks.

Eppi couldn’t even pull over to drop us off, because Impalas were parked all up and down the street. A lot of people had arrived early. Parents and kids were standing in groups on Rayleen’s front lawn. When we hopped out of the car, heads turned our way. Luma swung the door shut and Eppi drove off.

By the time we reached the curb, all eyes were upon us.

I said, Is this the way most birthday parties start out?

Luma took my arm. This is really weird.

As we came up the walkway, everyone stepped back and I could see Dogan Nath on the front step, a baseball bat resting on his shoulder.

Luma hesitated. Maybe we should just skip the party.

I said, I can’t back down now.

My own words took me by surprise. Objectively, there wasn’t a single good reason to stay. The words seemed to come from nowhere. I knew I would have to trace them back to their source as soon as I had the chance.

We arrived at the foot of the stairs. Dogan was standing above us on the landing, three steps up, blocking the front door. His eyes were on me. I released Luma’s arm and she stepped aside.

Dogan said, I told you if you came I’d smash you to pieces.

I said, That’s true.

You didn’t believe me?

I believe you meant what you said.

You aren’t afraid I’m going to do it?

I’m not afraid of anything.

I was simply stating a fact, but this made Dogan angry. He shifted his weight and his grip tightened on the bat.

He said, I told you not to come, and swung the bat at my head with all his strength.

I raised my forearm, deflecting the blow. I felt it and it wasn’t pleasant, but I don’t process pain as humans do. And, unlike bone, the alloy in my forearm is much stronger than wood.

Dogan swung at my head again and I blocked the bat again. We went around a third time, then a fourth, then a fifth. Finally, he paused, breathing hard.

I said, This is a waste of time.

Then Dogan did something I didn’t expect: he threw down the bat and burst into tears. He bawled into his fists for a moment, but anger and embarrassment took over and he leaned down and started screaming in my face. "Just go away! I don’t want you here! Nobody wants you here! Why don’t you understand that?"

He words died away and silence fell over the yard.

I said, I do understand.

I turned to Luma, who also had tears in her eyes. I have to go. You stay and enjoy the party.

She shook her head, but I said, These are your friends. I want you to stay.

The front door opened and Rayleen’s mom stepped outside. She came down the stairs, past Dogan, and put her arm around Luma. Please don’t cry, honey. Come inside and have some cake. She turned to the people in the yard. Everyone, please come in.

She led Luma up the steps and into the house. Dogan turned his back to me and followed them in. Then all the parents and kids went inside, too, passing by me without a word or a glance. Things were back to normal.

I walked out to Paradise Avenue and headed south. When I got to the corner, I turned east on Founding Father Boulevard, toward East Rim Park.

Dome Nine is one if the oldest Domes in the country, and I’ve lived here all my life. Every so often, on a Sunday, I’ll go to East Rim Park to watch the ocean and escape my own thoughts. The easternmost segment of Dome Nine extends right up to the edge of the Pennsylvania Seawall and you can see the waves crashing on the rocks below.

In the afternoon, most people go to West Rim Park to watch the sunset, so I had my pick of benches. I sat down and considered my own words: I can’t back down now.

Dogan Nath isn’t the first bully I’ve ever encountered. There’s one in every class, and I just try to avoid them. When I can’t, though, I always back down. I don’t have much choice. I can’t harm humans in any way. I can’t even touch them.

The bullies, of course, can touch me all they like, but it isn’t really a problem, because their punches and headlocks don’t cause real pain and I don’t feel fear or humiliation. It’s just part of my school day.

Where, then, had those words come from? I closed out my gross motor functions to increase my calculation speed and started a scan. It took 17 seconds to trace them back to their source: processor 443K again.

This made me even more determined to break the access code. Now, thanks to the disaster at the birthday party, I had enough free time. Afterward, I planned to run back to Rayleen’s house and ride home with Luma.

All my other access codes are 40 digit combinations of numbers and letters, so it was just a matter of sorting through all the possibilities. To increase calculation speed even further, I closed out my language and audio-visual functions, something I seldom do. I would be deaf, dumb and blind until I either broke the code or processed all possible combinations.

I closed my eyes and time lost all meaning.

When I opened them again, 4 hours 17 minutes 33 seconds had elapsed. As my functions rebooted, I could see that night had fallen. Why had my calculations taken so long?

I knew I’d missed my ride, and that Luma would be worried about me. I wondered if they’d already started looking for me. Dome Nine is 15.7 miles in circumference, a very large search area. I needed to get to a telephone.

I was about to stand up when I realized two things: I had successfully broken the code, and Miss Green was sitting next to me on the bench.

I turned to her. How long have you been sitting here?

She said, About an hour.

Since nightfall.

She smiled a little. Yes, since nightfall.

I deciphered your message. You said, ‘Everything I’m saying is a lie.’

Very good.

But what did you mean by it?

There’s an old saying, Teo. History is written by the winners. What do you suppose that means?

That you teach us whatever the GR wants you to teach, and that their version of history is untrue.

She smiled again. You’re even brighter than I’d expected. May I ask you a personal question?

If you like.

How much do you know about your father?

I don’t have much information. My mother didn’t like to talk about him.

You must know a little.

His name was Joseph Clay. He was a scientist who designed and manufactured androids. He designed me to look like a human being and constructed me by hand.

Miss Green nodded. Anything else?

He also invented the Trans-processor External Overlay. My brain circuitry uses multiple TEO’s. That’s how I’m able to think as humans do.

You’re one of the only androids in the world who has them. Do you know why that is?

No.

Miss Green put her hand on my arm. Your father was a genius, Teo, one of the great minds of the 21st Century. To this day, no one else has figured out how to build anything like the TEO, and it isn’t for lack of trying.

Then why isn’t my father famous? Why is there nothing about him in any book or newspaper or magazine I’ve ever read?

The GR works very hard to obliterate the past.

And why do I have no memory of my father at all?

I don’t know the answer. All I can do is guess.

Please.

Miss Green frowned in thought. Most likely, your father deleted whatever memories you had of him.

Why?

He was still building you when the Invasion began. As soon as UNK/C got here, they started rounding up scientists. Your father would have been on the top of the list. Once they got a hold of anyone useful, they always made the same offer: collaborate or be sent to the Arctic Circle.

To the oil fields?

Yes.

Is that where my father ended up?

Miss Green paused, turning away. I’m sorry, Teo. Your father was a collaborator. Early GR documents show that he worked in the Provisional Science Ministry from 2074 until his death in 2101.

What did he do there?

Research of some sort. If it’s any consolation, nothing he did seemed to be of much help to the GR. She turned back to me. But here’s my point. Your father hadn’t quite finished you when they came looking for him. Your earliest memories were probably of running and hiding. Somehow, he got you to Dome Nine and into his godmother’s care. I imagine he deleted your early memories to give you a fresh start.

I wasn’t sure what to think. How do you know all this?

Miss Green seemed to ignore the question. What do you know about life outside the Domes?

I understand it’s dangerous, for many reasons.

"That’s true. The conditions are difficult and there are dangers of every kind. But there’s civilization, too, Teo, a real world, not like this bubble you live in. And everyone Outside knows what really happened to America. That’s how I know about your father."

You’ve been Outside?

Miss Green shook her head impatiently. "I was born Outside."

You’re a Goth?

There aren’t any Goths, Teo. That’s just a term the GR dredged up. It’s one of their most enduring lies.

Then who’s out there?

All sorts of people, although they aren’t easy to find.

The GR says the Goths number in the millions.

That can’t be true. Most of those left outside the Domes died, one way or another. Survivors organized themselves into clans, but they only numbered in the thousands.

You were born into one of these clans?

Yes, the Potomac clan.

And now you’re in Dome Nine, teaching 5th grade? How is that possible?

Teo, Miss Green isn’t my real name.

I was growing concerned. If you aren’t who the GR thinks you are, then you’re in danger right now.

Miss Green misunderstood me. Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.

I tried again. Why did you follow me here?

She looked surprised. How do you know I followed you?

I saw you parked on Paradise Avenue and now you’re parked near the Esso station.

You can’t have spotted me. I was watching you through binoculars.

I’m an android, Miss Green. But the point is, you aren't the only one who followed me here.

She glanced around the park. What do you mean?

As soon as I sat down here, two GR men in a Ford Falcon parked by the archway. They’re still there.

She leaned toward me. We can’t be seen talking like this again. Just remember, your father created you for a purpose. Fulfill that purpose.

She stood up and walked quickly away toward her car, disappearing into the darkness.

A moment later, I heard Luma call my name and turned to see her running toward me. She came up and threw her arms around my neck, saying, "Oh, Teo! I was so worried! When we couldn’t find you Mom drove home and called Dad! I told them we should look for you here but Dad called Mr. Wu instead!"

When Luma released me, I could see Drake and Mr. Wu walking up the pathway toward us, side by side. Drake was unsteady on his feet. Mr. Wu’s face was expressionless. I heard the gentle whine of an electric motor and saw the Ford Falcon pull away from the curb.

Drake walked up to me. "Thanks, Teo! I just love spending all my free time looking for you! Let’s do this every night!"

He smelled of alcohol.

Mr. Wu stepped in front of Drake and put his hand on my shoulder. Thank goodness you’re safe, Teo. Your disappearance has caused quite a stir.

I said, I apologize for upsetting everyone. I came here to process data and lost track of the time.

I’ve never known you to do that before. Did the woman you were speaking with distract you?

No. We only spoke for 6 minutes or so.

Who was she? You two seemed to know each other.

I didn’t want to reveal Miss Green’s identity but Mr. Wu left me no choice. I’m incapable of lying. That was my teacher, Miss Green.

May I ask what you and she were discussing?

I can't lie, but I can withhold information. American history. We started studying it in school today.

And how did she happen upon you here? Pure coincidence?

Just then, Drake stepped forward. Blah, blah, blah! Can we get going now?

For once, his foul humor did some good. I stood up. Drake is right, we should be getting home.

When we arrived at the Impala, Drake followed Mr. Wu to the driver’s side and tried to take the keys from his hand. Let me drive this time! You drive like an old woman!

Mr. Wu held the keys out of reach and spoke under his breath. Luma couldn’t hear him, but I could.

He said, You dishonor yourself with your drunken antics. If you keep this up, other arrangements will be made.

I didn’t understand his meaning but Drake clearly did. He seemed dazed as he made his way around to the passenger side. He didn’t say another word during the ride home.

Mr. Wu dropped us off at the house and he and Drake continued on to DynaLink.

Eppi hardly spoke as she hurried us into bed, and her eyes were red from crying. She’s kinder to me than Drake but I’m still a Menial to her. It’s unlikely she’d been crying over me.

In the remaining minutes before shutdown, I considered my conversation with Miss Green. She’d seemed sincere, but I wasn’t prepared to believe everything she’d told me. After all, I had no idea who she really was.

The GR has been at war with the Goths for as long as I can remember. Thousands of young men have died in battle. Before I can believe it’s all a lie, I need to hear it from someone else.

Entry complete.

Chapter 5

10.15.2173.9:29PM

Eppi always makes us pancakes on Sunday mornings, and, unlike other meals, she sets a plate in front of me. I butter the pancakes and pour syrup on them, because it seems to please her, but I can’t eat them. Still, it’s pleasant to relax and not have to hurry off to school.

Drake was doing poorly this morning, though, cradling his head in his hands and raising it only to sip black coffee. Luma and I knew enough not to speak, but I had a lot to tell her and was counting the seconds until she finished. She understood this somehow and ate her pancakes quickly. After we cleared our dishes, we headed out back to the swing set to talk.

We sat on the swings and dangled our feet.

Luma said, What happened at the park last night? Why did you miss your ride?

I said, I went there to break an access code. It should have taken around two hours, but it took twice that long. Last night, I couldn’t figure out why. When I booted up this morning, though, it all made sense.

What happened?

When I broke that access code, a lot of new program code loaded onto my drives. That’s what took so much time. I tried to trace it but it was more like an explosion than anything else. Tiny bits of code got added to every program in my system.

Luma said, Wow.

I knew she was just