More Than an Echo (Echo Branson Series) (18 page)

Opening my front door, I was greeted, as I always am, by my Siamese cat, Tripod.

“Hey cutie,” I said, kneeling down to scritch his ears.

I rose and checked my messages. There was one from Danica, still my best friend, and two from telemarketers. As I erased the messages, Tripod rubbed up against my legs as best he could. Tripod, as his name suggests, only has three legs. He lost his back leg to a rare form of cancer. The vet recommended I put him down, but for reasons I couldn’t explain to her, I was going to give him a chance. I had found him on the bakery doorsteps, cold, wet and dehydrated one foggy morning. Luigi said I could keep him if I had him checked out by a vet. So, I bundled him up and took him to Dr. Elaine for a full battery of tests. When he lived through the amputation, she told me that everything in her was against trying to save him.

She had mad skills as a surgeon. I have mad skills as an empath. Two years later, Tripod is cancer free and manages quite nicely with three legs. As a result of keeping him alive, he has been the best pet in the world even if he is addicted to catnip.

Picking up my phone, I called Danica’s office. Her secretary put me right through as she always does.

“Hey there unemployed chick. How’s the job hunting going? Any bites?”

“I bagged one; a really good one, too.”

“Excellent! Do tell.”

So I did. Danica was truly delighted. After five years together at Mills, we both had decided to stay in the Bay Area and make our fortunes. So far, Danica was the only one of us who understood how to actually do that.

After graduating with a Master’s degree in computer science, Danica opened her own software firm and it took off like the proverbial rocket. She had created a program which instantly alerted a company whenever someone was trying to break through a firewall or other security system. Unlike other programs, hers alerted via audio as well as video before slamming a wall around all files. The program was aptly named The Echo after me. She didn’t name it after me because I was her best friend; but because when I had finally learned how to shield myself from the onslaught of emotions from people near me, she thought it was pretty cool. The Echo was patented, Danica had made a bundle, and now she was the sole owner and CEO of Savvy Software, an up-and-coming company beginning to be noticed by the likes of Apple, Microsoft and
Wired
magazine.

“I can’t believe old man Bentley admitted he made a mistake,” Danica said, crunching something in my ear.

“Carrot?”

“Bingo.”

“Diet?” Danica had tried every diet on record, not because she needed to, but because her geek squad of computer programmers were working on a dietary software program even the biggest diet imbecile could use.

“Not this time. So, when do you go to work, Clark?”

I grinned. Danica had been calling me Clark Kent ever since I was the editor of the newspaper at Mills College. She had always called my gift my
superpowers
and was somewhat enamored with them.

“Tomorrow morning. They’ll probably apprentice me with a seasoned veteran for a while until I learn the ropes. I am totally excited.”

“It’s what you’ve always wanted, Clark, though it’s beyond me what you get out of digging around in people’s dirty laundry. Quite frankly, I’ve never really understood the pull.”

“You just don’t have any appreciation for the press.”

Danica made a few derisive noises. “If I want the truth, the
real
truth, I sure as hell won’t get it from the news. Anyway, congratulations on your ladder climbing. It’s about time your superpowers gave you a leg up on the competition.”

“The last time I used my ability I got fired.”

“You got fired because Carter Ellsworth is a dick. Uh-oh, my red lights are blinking, so I better scoot along. A boss’s work is never done. The boys are all excited about our first role-playing game and they keep bombarding me with questions. You know how they are. I want them to focus on the diet program, and all they can talk about is some dumb role-playing game.”

The boys
were a trio of Berkeley graduates who had been rejected by a number of top firms because they wanted to be hired as a package deal, unheard-of in the oversaturated computer nerd market of Silicon Valley. After being rejected by just about every major software company, they arrived on Danica’s doorstep. She took one look at their resumes and hired all three on the spot. In a way, they were to Danica the way Tripod was to me; grateful to have been given the opportunity to work together, they rewarded Savvy Software with some of the best programs on the market.

Now, the three of them shared an enormous office where they spent far more than the requisite forty hours developing programs that would put Savvy Software on a bigger technological map. Their office, nicknamed the Bat Cave, was a technological and electronic marvel. Danica gave them whatever they needed to get the job done which they did often and well.

“Let’s have dinner after your big day so you can tell me what it’s like to finally be on the A team.”

I didn’t know much about being on the A team, but I knew it was a long way from the D list.

Entering the Bat Cave was a little like entering the bedroom of triplets. There were electronic and digital toys everywhere, and  three of everything; three remote-control cars, three robots, three Game Boys, three PlayStations, three Xboxes, three laptops, three computers, three plasma screen TVs, and, yes, there were even three virtual-reality stations complete with goggles and headphones. If it was electronic and had bright lights, they owned it. Like three little boys, they would take extended breaks in order to race their cars or play their video games. That was one of the reasons why their work week was well over seventy hours; the emphasis wasn’t ever on the work. Ever. The boys got their best ideas when they were either playing on the foosball table or beating each other up in some arcane video game.

They were well worth the hefty salaries Danica paid them. That was why they were my first stop. There wasn’t anything they couldn’t do with a computer.

“Hey, guys, Princess is here!” Roger said when I opened the door. They had no secretary, no reception area, nothing. They preferred to deal solely with their incredibly lenient boss, and unless otherwise bothered, they seldom left the Bat Cave.

“Hi Roger,” I said, shaking his clammy hand. Roger was the coolest of the geeks. He wore his hair in a brown ponytail and subsisted mainly on corn nuts and Diet Coke. There was a warmth about Roger that drew women to him, but he was uncomfortable around most females. I was an exception because I was not just Danica’s best friend, I was the Princess to her Queen. “What’s shakin’?”

Before he could answer, Franklin set the controls to his Xbox down in order to come greet me. “Princess! We’re working on a program that helps kids read better. What brings you to the Bat Cave?” Franklin pushed his black-rimmed glasses back up the bridge of his long nose. He had been wearing the same style of glasses since he was seven years old. I could only surmise how many times he had been beaten up as a kid. I imagined it was a lot.

“Here on business, Franklin, and I could use your help.”

“Fun business or adult business?” This came from Carl, who was still playing on the computer. His mop of red curly hair always looked like an oversized wig. When he rose, he unfolded like a cartoon paper doll. Carl ate all day long and never put an ounce on his six-foot-four inch frame.

“I’m afraid this is going to be dull adult business, guys.”

The three of them looked at each other. The word
adult
was like a swear word to them. “What do you need?”

Sighing, I told them about my plight. “I need a story. I need something big; something that—” All three jumped behind their computers, fingers flying at breakneck speed over their respective keyboards. “We’re all over it. You want something spectacular.” Carl explained that information was like a snowball; once they started it rolling, it not only picked up speed, but grew proportionately to what was out there.

“Give us a few, Princess, go bother the boss,”  Carl said, pushing his glasses back up.

Turning to leave, I was almost out the door when Franklin called me back.

“There’s a lot that goes down in this city, hon. You want something dangerous? Something provocative, or both?”

“Sex sells, sistah,” Roger said, winking.

I turned slowly. “I want something that will prove to Wes Bentley he didn’t make a mistake in hiring me back.”

All three of them grinned. “Gotcha,” Roger said, returning his attention to his computer. “Then sex it is.”

I grinned back. “Knock yourselves out, guys. I’ll be back in a half an hour.”

As I left the Bat Cave, I made my way to Heidi’s desk. “Hey Heidi.”

“Oh, Echo. She’s in a meeting right now.”

“Let her know I am borrowing the boys for a little research project.”

Heidi shook her head, a slight smile playing at the corners of her newly collagened lips. She reminded me of every high school cheerleader I had ever met; all legs and teeth and perfect hair. She had been a great secretary to Danica, who was not an easy boss by any means. “You mean they’re actually
working
?” Heidi laughed. “She pays them a king’s ransom and all they do is sit around in there all day and play.”

“Well, just tell her that they’re screwing around for me.”

She nodded and checked her schedule. “Are you two still on for dinner?”

I nodded.

Heidi’s phone beeped. “That was fast. The boys beckon.”

In the short time I was gone, the boys had compiled over a hundred printed pages.

Carl was thumbing through them and talking without looking up. “These are some of the issues happening right now. Some are seriously scary, others are like cold cases. Is that sorta what you were after?” He handed me a printout of strange stories around the globe.

I looked down at the paper and saw all sorts of headlines, and blogs and other articles about interesting cases and issues. “That was so fast.”

Carl shook his head as he pulled more paper from the printer. “Don’t forget who we are, Princess.
We
are the reason the Boss created the The Echo in the first place...well...guys
like
us. We can get through anything.”

“What about The Echo? Can you breach that?”

Franklin nodded. “Breach it, yes. Get
away
with breaching it, nope. The Boss designed a program that leaves hackers’ fingerprints, so to speak. Unless we tossed our machines, we’d be busted for sure. That’s the beauty of her program. You may get your info, but it’ll cost you your machine if we don’t catch you and your freedom if we do.”

I saw a couple of topics of interest, but nothing that reached out and grabbed me. “Good work, guys. I’m sure I can dig my teeth into some of these.”

“Be careful, Princess,” Carl admonished. “No snake likes to be poked in the eye.”

I nodded. “Gotcha.” Straightening my papers, I started for the door. “This is great. I owe you guys.”

Carl jumped up to get the door. Carl had a little crush on me that Danica thought was cute. “The Boss has been telling us ever since you got hired at the paper that you’re going to be a star reporter someday. Anything we can do to help that along...we’re here.”

“Want us to keep digging? See if any bodies come up?”

“I think you better get some real work done. Aren’t you developing a game or something?”

“Games, plural. Roger is working on a more accurate voice-to-text program that’s better than anything on the market. Franklin is working on an accounting program, and I am this close to finishing my latest RPG. That means role-playing game.”

“But aren’t there plenty of voice-to-text programs out there already?”

“Sure, but the Boss wants one that is voice activated for handicapped folks and has an accuracy rate of close to ninety-eight percent.”

Franklin nodded. “Yeah, she wants to give the program away to handicapped peeps, the elderly, quadraplegics, people with MS, you name it. It’s easy to set up and easier to use and will make it much easier for them to e-mail and write. I just finished designing an app for it for the iPhone and iPod. Pretty cool, huh?”

 “She never said anything.”

“Because it’s not done. When it’s finished, she’ll be crowing about it to anyone who will listen.”

“Well...you guys get back to work. Thanks, again, for all the work. You really do rock.”

As I took my bundle of articles out to Ladybug, my 1965 Bug. I realized I had yet to deliver Luigi’s day olds. There they were, still sitting in the back of my car glaring at me with their little donut hole eyes.  I felt slightly ashamed. Getting into Ladybug, I headed for the Mission District where I knew the little extra staleness wouldn’t bother anyone. I had been fortunate enough to get a job…it was incumbent on me to spread that wealth any way I could, starting with the day olds in my backseat.

I read an article that said many of the homeless beggars on the streets of San Francisco earned an average of thirty thousand a year. I remember scoffing at that figure until a professor of mine pointed out that many of the panhandlers were out on the streets fourteen to seventeen hours a day, seven days a week, three hundred sixty-five days a year. She estimated that a panhandler needed to pull in a little over four dollars an hour to meet that mark; a goal which was quite attainable especially during feel-good holidays like Valentine’s Day, Thanksgiving, Mother’s Day, and Christmas. Of course, money is a moot point if you spend it on alcohol or an addiction of another sort, as many homeless do. I know because one homeless guy was a friend of mine. His name was Bob.