Spyware

Earlier a librarian volunteer had come around and asked if she could help him. That meant, he knew, she didn’t really want him back here in the side rooms, which were reversible, but normally kept locked. Leaning forward to hide his notebook computer, he had leered at her and told her he was doing just fine. Fortunately, she was the timid type. She had nodded, blinking rapidly, and hurried away. He had not been disturbed again, but he felt sure that he was under casual scrutiny now and then. Falling asleep on the job put him in the exactly the category he wanted to be in.

But it wasn’t finding Justin any faster. Using that thought and a deep breath to wake himself up, he touched the mouse. He clicked on Snowflake and brought up a window of more detailed information on the user. He watched as Snowflake performed several scanning commands of his or her own. Snowflake was reading mail, and since this was a new user, that meant Snowflake was reading the mail of others. Ray sat up, fiddled with the mouse further. The mail messages flashed up. Snowflake skipped directly to Santa’s mail and read it.

“Son-of-a-bitch,” muttered Ray, sitting up. Could this be the one?

Snowflake read the message Ray had sent hours ago to Santa. Two other patrons logged on, Foobar and Budha. Ray ignored them, watching Snowflake intently. All thought of sleep was gone now. His heart pounded as he watched the screen.

Budha moved to open a back-channel with Snowflake. Ray sucked in his breath. He glided the mouse up to the SNOOP button and he clicked on it.

Budha: I’m here.

Snowflake: Someone else is, too.

Budha was silent for perhaps ten seconds.

Snowflake: You still there?

Budha: How do you know?

Snowflake: I know. Someone’s made me on this system.

Budha: What’s the deal with the kid?

Snowflake fell silent.

Budha: hello?

Snowflake: fat fucking idiot

Budha: screw you too, man

Snowflake: Keep your typing neutral

Budha: You’re getting paranoid. I don’t think anyone is listening.

Snowflake: All right. We have to talk.

Budha: We ARE talking, man.

Snowflake: About your little software surprise.

Budha: Oh, that. I don’t think they’ve figured out about the eggs it’s been laying yet.

Snowflake: At least not publicly.

Budha: When do WE go public and save the net?

Snowflake: Maybe never. Things have gotten too hot.

Budha: Never? But the countdown is half-gone.

Snowflake: Don’t you think I know that?

Budha: It’s changing so much. The progression out on the open net… it isn’t the way I thought it would be.

Snowflake: Are you saying that you can’t stop it?

Budha: Maybe yes, maybe no. Depends on how far it’s mutated. The longer we go the worse it is.

Snowflake: All right then, put it out on the net here and there, anonymously if you want.

Budha: With no profit, then? Mission aborted, huh?

Snowflake: Right. Mission Aborted.

Budha: But if it’s too hot, I don’t want them somehow tracing me back.

Snowflake: Then do nothing, it’s the safest course for both of us.

Budha: But what about the net?

Snowflake: Let the whole thing burn. Nobody will trace anything after that.

The two of them broke the channel after that. Ray hurried to sat the log file of their conversation on his disk. Then he sat back in shock, rubbing his chin. There were so many unanswered questions. Budha logged off. Ray realized he was about to lose them both, not knowing what else to do, he jumped forward in his chair and clicked on Snowflake. He requested a private connection. He did it with his heart in his mouth, knowing that he had just revealed himself and his Foghorn handle.

Perhaps two minutes passed. Ray’s heart pounded. He watched Snowflake carefully, but the other didn’t log off. He knew that at some other computer somewhere, a blinking request was on the screen, like a phone that just kept on ringing and ringing. Finally, the request was accepted.

Snowflake: Who’s there?