Terminal Compromise - LightNovelsOnl.com
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OBVIOUSLY YOU DO, MR. FOSTER. I HAVE MY SOURCES AS YOU DO.
They don't screw with the press, though. That's frowned upon.
MAYBE SO, BUT TRUE. WE NEED TO GET THIS MASON BACK ON THE TRACK.
HE IS WHAT WE NEED.
Why him?
SIMPLE. WE HAVE SENT READER INFORMATION TO SEVERAL NEWSPAPERS.
THE ONLY ONE TO PRINT HAS BEEN YOUR NATIONAL EXPOSE. THAT PAPER, I BELIEVE IS SOLD AT SUPERMARKETS AND READ BY WOMEN WHO WATCH SOAP OPERAS. MR. MASON IS AN ENGINEER WHO UNDERSTANDS. WE NEED HIM BACK. HE IS VALUABLE TO OUR PLAN. IN YOUR COUNTRY PEOPLE LISTEN TO THE PRESS. BUT YOUR GOVERNMENT STOPPED HIM. WE CANNOT LET HIM FAIL.
How much does he know?
AS MUCH AS WE WANT HIM TO. NO MORE. WE WANT TO FEED HIM A LITTLE AT A TIME, AS WE PLANNED. I AM AFRAID HE WILL BE DISCOUR- AGED AND ABANDON THE HUNT. YOU KNOW HOW CRITICAL THE PRESS IS.
THEY ARE OUR MOUTHPIECE.
Yes, I agree. I wish I knew how you find out these things.
MANY PEOPLE OWE ME FAVORS. WE MAY HAVE LOST AFTER PEARL HARBOR, BUT WE WON WITH THE TRANSISTOR RADIO AND VCRS. THE WAR IS NOT OVER.
What do you want me to do?
MAKE SURE THAN MR. MASON IS KEPT INFORMED. HE IS BRIGHT. HE UNDERSTANDS. HIS VOICE WILL BE HEARD. HE MUST NOT BE STOPPED.
I WILL DO WHAT I CAN AS WELL. PUT HIM BACK ON THE TRACK.
I know how to do that. That will not be a problem. Do we still have readers?
YES, WE LOST ONLY ONE, AND THAT IS NOT HURTING. WE HAVE MANY MORE.
How many?
MR. FOSTER, YOU WROTE THE PLAN. DID YOU FORGET?
No, I know. Curiosity.
KILLED THE CAT AS YOU SAY.
It is my plan.
WHICH I BOUGHT. I WANT THE PUBLICITY, AS PLANNED. SEE THAT WE GET IT.
Sure.
MR. FOSTER? ONE MORE THING.
Yes.
I DO NOT HAVE A SLOPED BROW NOR IS RICE MY PRIMARY MEANS OF PROPULSION.
Just an expression.
KEEP IT TO YOURSELF.
Midnight, Wednesday, December 2 Scarsdale, New York Since he had met Kirk, Scott had developed a mild affection for his long distance modem-pal, and pretended informer. Now, it was time to take advantage of his new a.s.set. Maybe the Government carries weight with their spook s.h.i.+t, but a bank can't push hard enough to pull a story, if it's true. And Kirk, whoever that was, offered Scott the ideal way to prove it. Do it yourself. So he prepared himself for a long night, and he would definitely sleep in tomorrow; no matter what! Scott so cherished his sleep time. He wormed his way through the mess of the downstairs "study in disaster," and made s.p.a.ce by redistributing the mess into other corners. He felt a commitment, an excitement that was beyond that of de- veloping a great story. Scott was gripped with an intensity that was a result of the apprehension of invading a computer, and the irony of it all. He was an engineer, turned writer, using com- puters as an active journalistic instrument other than for word processing. To Scott, the computer, being the news itself, was being used as a tool to perform self examination as a sentient being, as a separate ent.i.ty. Techno-psychoa.n.a.lysis? Is it narcissistic for man's tools to use themselves as both images of the mirror of reflective a.n.a.lysis? They say man's brain can never fully understand itself. Is the same true with comput- ers? And since they grow in power so quickly compared to man's snail-like millennia by millennia evolution, can they catch up with themselves? Back to reality, Scott. The Great American Techno-Philosophy and Pulitzer could wait. He had a bank to rob. Scott left his computer on all the time since Kirk had first called. If the Intergalactic Traveler called back, the computer would answer, and Kirk could leave a message. Scott checked the Mail Box in the ProCom communications program. No calls. Not that his modem was a popular number. Only he, his office computer and Kirk knew it. And the phone company, but everyone knows about them . . . Just as the clock struck midnight, Kirk jumped in his seat. Not only was the bell chiming an annoying 12 mini-gongs, but his computer was beeping. It took a couple of beeps from the small speaker in his computer for him to realize he was receiving a call. What do I do know? The 14" color screen came alive and it entered terminal mode from the auto-answer screen that Scott had left yesterday. WTFO The screen rang out. Scott knew the answer. naft VERY GOOD! COULDN'T HAVE SAID IT BETTER MYSELF. Welcome pilgrim, what has brought thee to these sh.o.r.es? I GUESS WRITERS HAVE AN ADVANTAGE ON COMM. MAKE YOURSELF VERY COLORFUL. CREATE ANY PICTURE YOU WANT. Seems a bit more sporting that hiding behind techy-talk. YEAH, WELL, I'LL WORK ON IT. So, as Maynard G. Crebbs asked, "You Rang?" AH! DOBIE GILLIS. NICK AT NIGHT! No, the originals. WHEN WAS THAT? You've just dated yourself. Thanks. TO-f.u.c.kING-SHAY! NOT AS OLD AS YOU. READY FOR A TRIP TO THE BANK?
