Marlowe and the Spacewoman (26 page)

CHAPTER 15

DAWN OF A NEW DAY

Simulated sunlight grew from a faint ember into a blinding, blazing orb on the ceiling.  Marlowe groaned as his eyes flicked open.  The bedsheets slid out of the way, giving him clear passage to the edge of the mattress.  He forced himself up and trudged into the bathroom while the rumpled bedsheets pulled themselves taut and neat over the mattress.

He silenced Toothy by squeezing a bead of paste onto the brush and shoving it into his mouth.  He looked forward to the day when someone invented a nano probe that could clean the surface of his teeth without falling out of the mouth.  As he scrubbed the grime of sleep from his molars, House reported on the results of the skin cell analysis.

“I do hate to draw any conclusions before all the tests are done, but you are almost certainly eager to hear the preliminary results.  With 87% of the skin cell samples tested, I can state with a high degree of confidence that Miss Minari spent four months and somewhere between 3 and 5 days inside the location you collected the samples from.  So far, the ratio of skin cells to other debris is consistent with total confinement within that space rather than periodic visits.  I should have the final results within the hour.”

Marlowe spat out the foamy byproduct of his toothbrushing and rinsed off Toothy, who let out a slight wail of disappointment that the oral hygiene portion of the morning exercises had ended.  “Not exactly conclusive proof of her story, but certainly consistent with it.”

“Yes, I daresay it is.”

Marlowe eyed the bottle of liquid soap in the shower with some suspicion, and then jumped in.  A burst of solvent dissolved his pajamas, and then the hot water kicked in.  This time, with his PDI working, the nasal implants blocked the solvent fumes from breeching the nasal cavity.  As the hot water pounded on his worn frame, he discussed with House an idea that had come to him while he slept.

“House, do you have an image of my PDI prior to the crash?”

“Of course.  I keep a cascading series of rolling backups, generated every twenty minutes, and purged when they reach an age of two weeks.  Assuming, of course, you aren’t on one of your occasional sojourns outside the City and your PDI is in communications range.  When it isn’t, I perform a backup immediately upon reestablishing contact.  After that incident last year with the Easter Bunny Brigade, I’ve become more vigilant about backups.”

“Paranoid might be a better word.”

“Perhaps, but I don’t hear you complaining.  I also keep an additional set of backups that are generated once a year and stored for five years before being purged.  All of this is fully automated and transparent to you.  Since we aren’t certain when the virus infected your PDI, I used a backup from two years ago, to minimize as much as possible the risk of restoring an image that is infected with the virus.   I have sandboxed all the recent backups, completely isolating them from my systems.”

“So the most recent backup almost certainly has the virus?”

“The last backup was made, coincidentally enough, forty three seconds prior to the crash.  It is almost certainly infected.  For prior backups, the probability of infection drops off by a factor of-”

“That’s alright, I’m not interested in probabilities.  I just want to make sure we have a PDI image that’s infected.”

“Why?  I can’t analyze it because I can’t detect it.  Any attempt to do so runs the risk of infecting my systems.”

“Yes, but until we know where it came from, every path of intrusion you have into the Ministry of Policing is suspect.  And for all we know, you already are infected.”  

“This is true.”

“It occurs to me there might be a better way of verifying the integrity of your hacks than breaking into the Ministry of Policing.”

“I’m all ears.”

“No you’re not.  You don’t have ears.”

“I have a large number of audio pickup devices far more sensitive than the human auditory system dotting this building and the immediate area around it.  In the spirit of my statement, they  can easily substitute for inferior organic ears.”  House’s tone had become quite dry.

“You know what I mean.”

“You were about to impart a suggestion for determining the legitimacy of my hacks into the Ministry of Policing?”  

Marlowe rolled his eyes.  “Well, after what happened to Huggy Bear and his precious Internet access point, we owe him.”

“We do?”

“Yes, and I hate being in someone else’s debt.  However, with this investigation into Nina and the authority the Governor has thrown my way, I was thinking we could contract out to Huggy, hire him to investigate the PDI image and the virus.  It should be right up his alley.”

“Are you sure he’ll even take your call, let alone do business with you?”

“With the authority vested in me, I can override all his comm circuits.  He won’t have any choice but to listen to me.  And if I’ve gauged him correctly, he’ll find a problem like this irresistible.”

“Of course, this only helps us if he can confirm that Obedere created the virus.  If he can’t, we’re still in the dark and would need to do more in-depth, risk-prone investigation.”

“Agreed, but let’s give Huggy Bear a chance.”

Marlowe ended his blessedly uneventful shower, and after drying off, sprayed on a forest green shirt and gray pants, this time continuing the trend of no unpleasant surprises.  He put on the green mylar shoes which actually matched the shirt quite nicely, and then put in the call.

Huggy Bear’s bedraggled, sweaty face filled Marlowe’s entire field of vision.  Marlowe sized it down and made a mental note to adjust the comm preferences on his PDI; obviously the post-virus restoration had lost more than his bookmarks.

The bedraggled hacker stifled a yawn as he took the call, blinking bleary, sleep-encrusted eyes.  It took a moment before he registered who was on the other end.  “You!  What do you want?”

“Huggy Bear, I’m calling because I want to do you a favor, to make up for the trauma of yesterday.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.  Favors from you can only lead to trouble.  Goodbye.”

Huggy Bear’s angry mug didn’t fade from view, and after a moment, his anger shifted to surprise, then annoyance.  “Hey, I can’t hang up on you!  What have you done?”

“Overridden your comm circuits.”

“That’s illegal!  I’ll have you thrown in jail for illegal trespass!  You’ll never see the light of day again!”

“The Governor vested me with certain powers for the duration of my investigation, so actually, it turns out I could legally have you detained and interrogated at the Ministry of Policing.”

Marlowe hadn’t thought it possible for the pasty-complexioned hacker to get any paler, but that he did.  Perhaps a shade too pale.  Marlowe shifted gears.  “Listen, I don’t want to cause problems for you.  I’d like to hire you for a job you’re uniquely qualified for.”

“I don’t need the work.  I’m doing just fine as it is.”

A copy of the credit report House had obtained earlier popped up next to Huggy Bear’s visage.  Marlowe perused it, but the overwhelming amount of red told him what he needed to know in an instant.

“That’s not what your credit report suggests, Huggy Bear.  Here’s how much I’m willing to pay you.”

“I told you, I’m not interested!”

Marlowe transmitted an amount far larger than necessary.  It wasn’t like this was his money, after all.  The effect on Huggy Bear was immediate.  His jaw dropped, his eyes bulged, and he started coughing uncontrollably.  The fit passed, and he looked back at Marlowe.

“And just what, exactly, am I supposed to do?”

“My PDI was infected with a virus.  The latest anti-virus technology can’t detect it.  I only know about it because it killed my PDI.”

“You had a backup?”  Huggy Bear’s face took on a very concerned, worried countenance.

“Of course.”

“I can’t emphasis enough the importance of backups.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

“More than half my day is spent backing up the various systems in my collection-”

“How are you on electronic forensics, Huggy Bear?”

“I’m the best.  I wrote the book on it.  Haven’t found a publisher yet, but I wrote it.”

“So I can send you an image of the PDI, post-infection, pre-crash?”

“Intriguing.” His eyes had cleared, and Marlowe could almost see fire in the orbs now. “I’ll start immediately.  Send it to me now.  Now!”

Marlowe instructed House to send the image and signed off with a satisfied smile.  The call went about as expected.

As happy as he was with the outcome, dealing with Huggy Bear again left Marlowe a little drained.  He waited as the nano probes flooded his system with stimulants, and then remembered the letter in the mailbox.  He padded out into the living room, where Nina and his father were enjoying an early morning cup of tea under the watchful glare of Gomer.  Gomer’s gaze shifted to Marlowe and transformed into a pleading look.

“’And the Lord God *ahem* sent…him…out…of the paradise of pleasure, to till the earth from which he was taken.’”

“Your bird quotes scripture,” said Nina.  “He must really be a rescue bird.  Where did you rescue him from?”

“Church,” replied Marlowe.

“Praise the Lord!” testified Gomer, bobbing his head back and forth.

Nina took the bird’s outburst in stride.  “Figures,” she said with a shrug before taking another sip of tea.  “You look rested for a change.  Sleep well?”

Gomer had ended his little homily by bowing his head as if in prayer.  Head still down but now cocked slightly, only Marlowe could see the imploring stare Gomer was throwing his way, begging that the interlopers be removed immediately from his domain.  Marlowe ignored the silent plea.  “Fine, thanks.  And you?  You seem unduly bright and chipper for someone living under a death sentence.”

Nina tilted her head back and stretched her arms out.  “I slept on a real bed for the first time in three years.  It was wonderful.  I’d forgotten-”

“I’m fine, thank you very much for asking, dear son,” broke in Jebediah brusquely.

“And how are you feeling, father?  Nice and sane after a good night’s sleep?”

“You could try showing a touch more compassion,” intoned House in Marlowe’s ear.

“A solid night of orderly-uninterrupted sleep has worked wonders on the gears and wheels upstairs,” said Jebediah, tapping his skull.  “And one cannot underestimate the tonic effect on the mental processes of a nice cup of tea with an enchanting and beautiful young woman.  Our guest has been perfectly charming, a blossoming flower in the landfill of circumstances I find myself in.”

Our guest? thought Marlowe with alarm.

“You’re too kind, Jebediah.”  Nina was suddenly a gush of smiles.  It struck Marlowe as decidedly out of character.  However, she had been alone in space for a year.  His father’s slight frown at the use of his name suggested he wasn’t fond of her use of ‘Jebediah’.  Probably a touch too casual for his taste.  Marlowe’s stomach grumbled.  Father was getting entirely too settled in.

“Glad you’re feeling well.  If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to check the mail.”

Jebediah’s gaze followed Marlowe as he moved to the front door, halting abruptly as Marlowe passed Gomer’s cage, where his brow furled and his eyes flashed.

“I never did like birds,” he said as Gomer stared back icily from his corner perch.

“Father, leave him alone.  Gomer’s OK, unlike most of the birds out there.”

“If you’ve met one bird, you’ve met them all.  You should trust me on this, Spares.  I’m an excellent judge of character.  You don’t get as far as I did if you aren’t.”

Yeah, thought Marlowe.  You were such a good judge of character your own son managed to overthrow you and commit you to a mental hospital.

“Why,” continued Jebediah, “those fiendish fliers once had the audacity to coat the entire facade of City Hall, not to mention my limo, with….”

Marlowe tuned out, taking some amusement from watching Gomer quiver with rage at Jebediah’s telling of the story.  The parrot’s eyes bulged, the beak ground, and the one claw not being stood on clenched open and shut.  Marlowe wagged an admonishing finger and slipped out.

The mailbox stood at the end of the concrete walkway, on the edge of the lawn, silhouetted against the sun like a tall, lean gunslinger.  A gunslinger waiting.  Waiting for Marlowe to draw.  Marlowe’s arms were at his side, hands twitching.  What if House was wrong?

“Are you sure, House?”

“I’ve scanned the mailbox and detect nothing dangerous.”

“You didn’t detect the virus that hit my PDI.”

“This is physical mail.  Unless the source code for a virus has been printed on paper, and you foolishly enter it into your PDI and compile it, you should be safe.”

“I feel a lot better.”  Marlowe took a deep breath and walked up to the mailbox.

“Hey, Mar, how are ya?  Haven’t seen you since, well, since this cursed postal holiday started.  Boy, do I hate those holidays.  So long, so lonely, with no one to talk to.  Kinda like immediately after a delivery on non-holidays.  So long, so lonely, with no one to talk-”