Mona

by Dan Sehlberg

  But it was hopeless trying to talk to him. It always ended in a fight. She was sick of fighting and of his manic nagging about kids. A kid would mean enormous responsibility, and it would tie them to each other forever. Had he really thought about that? Had he really considered how that would feel? She had no intention of becoming a bitter single mum. She put the cigarette out in the wine glass and felt ill. Smoking was crap.

  She brushed her teeth and undressed in the bathroom so she wouldn’t wake him up. Then she silently went to the bedroom and slid under the warm blanket. She set her alarm for seven o’clock. Five hours of sleep would have to do. She cuddled up to Eric and fell asleep.

  She found herself in a large room that smelled stuffy and mouldy. She lay naked, on her stomach, in a layer of dust half a metre thick — or maybe it was ash. She stood up. She was still holding the old clock in one hand. The hands had stopped just after four thirty. No more purple liquid. Now it was just dusty and dead. She looked around. There were some overturned clothes racks and torn boxes. A mannequin with its arm broken off stared at her with empty eyes. She saw escalators behind the mannequin. Everything was silent and deserted. A cash register lay on the floor beside a counter. The drawer was open, releasing bills and coins. Everything was covered in the white ash.

  Then she caught sight of a pile of paper bags next to the escalator. She immediately recognised the logo. She was at NK. This realisation made her afraid. Afraid, but maybe mostly sad. She walked over to the register. The floor was full of glass and rubbish. The grooved edges of the escalator hurt her naked feet as she walked down it, careful not to step on any shards of glass. She came to street level. The large skylights were covered with ash, the showcases broken, and the shelves overturned. It looked like hooligans had gone berserk in the store. But they hadn’t been out to steal: jewellery, money, and expensive watches lay in the dust. Everything felt colourless and old. She gasped. A police car lay on its roof just inside the entrance. All its windows were broken, and the frame was dented and scratched. Behind the car she could see the large glass doors that opened onto Hamngatan. Shattered. The car must have crashed through the doors. She looked out at the street. She saw several abandoned cars there. All of them had broken windows; their doors were open, and their insides were torn out. The white ash was there, too. The same ghostly stillness. She walked in an arc to the entrance, afraid to get too close to the wrecked car.

  ‘Little tiger. Where are you?’

  She gave a start when she heard the other voice, suddenly conscious of her nakedness.

  Eric woke up. Hanna was burning up, gripping her pillow with white knuckles. She must be having a nightmare. He caressed her gently. Her eyelids twitched, and her lips moved. She whispered something in her sleep. He kissed her cheek.

  ‘Who’s there?’ She turned around slowly, her heart pounding. A child’s voice? She walked back and looked up at the other floors. Cables hung from landings, and pipes stuck out of concrete like broken bones.

  ‘Hello, is someone there?’

  She listened. There, another sound. Fainter this time. A girl’s voice. She moved closer to the escalator. ‘Where did you go?’

  The girl must be down on the lower level. She started to walk down the escalator. It was considerably darker down here. She stood on the last step while her eyes adjusted. It was pitch-black over by the food departments. To her right stood a wrecked bakery counter, and to her left, kitchen utensils were strewn about the floor.

  There was something in the darkness, a shadow. Perfectly still. Could it be a mannequin? But it was so small. She walked a bit farther in among the dark shelves.

  ‘Is someone here?’ The shadow didn’t move. But now she could see that it was a little girl, standing with her back to her. She took a few more steps, swallowed, and raised her voice.

  ‘Hello, sweetie. You don’t have to be afraid.’

  The girl turned toward her slowly.

  ‘I’m not afraid.’

  Despite the darkness, Hanna could see that her face was dirty and that she was wearing a wrinkled, stained dress. Her hair was uncombed.

  ‘Have you seen a little cat?’

  Hanna shook her head and crouched down.

  ‘Who are you?’

  The girl cocked her head. ‘I’m looking for my little tiger.’

  ‘Where is everyone?’

  ‘What everyone?’

  ‘The people who come here to shop. The people who drive cars out on the street and buy bread over there.’ She pointed at the wrecked bakery counter by the escalator.

  The girl shrugged. ‘They’re gone. Everyone is gone,’ she answered without much interest.

  ‘How can everyone be gone?’

  The girl suddenly looked scared. She looked around.

  ‘You can’t be here. He could be here any moment.’

  ‘Who?’

  The girl didn’t answer; she just stood there silently, looking at her. Hanna spoke more sharply: ‘Who could be here?’

  The girl looked down at the ground, and wrung her hands nervously.

  ‘The man without a face.’

  The alarm clock rang shrilly. Hanna fumbled for it and found the off button. She closed her eyes and gathered her strength. Then she tore herself out of sleep and opened her eyes. Bright rays of sun were playing under and around the blinds. She was wet with sweat, and had a headache. She lay there with her head on the pillow, looking at Eric. He was sleeping peacefully, his mouth half open. The alarm clock hadn’t disturbed him in the least. She ran her hand through his thick brown hair. He was an unusually sexy professor — tiresome and egocentric, but sexy. She would have been happy to stay in bed until he woke up. But she knew he didn’t like to be woken, and he could easily sleep for another several hours. She got up and showered, standing for a long time with the cold water streaming over her face. This was yet another morning when she’d awoken feeling more tired than when she’d gone to bed. Her whole body ached. Her joints felt stiff and sore, and her temples were throbbing. It must be a migraine. She felt sick. Normally, she would have stayed home from work, but this wasn’t a normal day. Anything could have happened at the bank during the night.

  When Eric woke up, Hanna was long gone. He pulled on his robe and walked through the apartment, which was bathed in sunlight. When he walked into the kitchen he saw the cigarette butt in the wine glass. He sighed. If she’d been smoking, that meant she was worried. Worried about him, or about work? All of a sudden, he felt dejected. He ought to ask her to lunch. They hadn’t seen each other in twenty-four hours. He took a vanilla yoghurt out of the fridge and started the coffeemaker. It was just after nine o’clock. It looked like a beautiful day beyond the windows. In the sunlight, he could see that they needed washing.

  At three o’clock he had to be at KTH for a meeting with the team. Before that, he would run the analyses of Hanna’s and Mats Hagström’s test rounds. And then he would write up a more detailed schedule, now that they were finally going into clinical testing. He took his iPod from the charger, went into his office, selected Verdi’s Othello, and opened his email. He had received an answer from Kyoto University with a series of test results on the new nano solution. The Japanese, too, seemed fascinated by the powerful contact he had succeeded in establishing with the brain. Eric tried to forward the email to the Swedish team, but he couldn’t find the group address. He frowned. How could it just be gone? He typed the addresses manually and sent the email. Then he clicked on the Mind Surf icon. The computer was thinking, but the program didn’t open. He nibbled at the yoghurt, his irritation increasing. What the hell was this? The minutes ticked by. He changed position, impatient. The program finally opened, but some of the colours in the interface were different. He put the yoghurt aside and went into the memory module to bring up Mats’s and Hanna’s sessions. The program stored information from each session:
brain waves, processor activity, graphical information, and domain and IP histories. There were three names in the user list — the pioneers:

  ERIC SÖDERQVISTLOG FILE 0001 (05:15)

  HANNA SÖDERQVISTLOG FILE 0002 (22:10)

  MATS HAGSTRÖMLOG FILE 0003 (11:22)

  He scrolled down to Hanna’s log and clicked. The computer froze again. He leaned toward the screen. It flickered, and a message popped up:

  REQUESTED FILE NOT FOUND

  He clicked on Mats’s log:

  REQUESTED FILE NOT FOUND

  What had gone wrong? A slow start-up, strange graphics, missing files … was the problem with Mind Surf or with the operating system? He remembered the missing group-email address, so the problem couldn’t just be with Mind Surf. Had the computer acquired a virus? He brought up his anti-virus program. He always had the latest update, so the computer ought to be protected. While the program searched for a virus, he went to the kitchen and got himself some coffee. Back at the computer, he picked up his phone and called Hanna. It went straight to voicemail, so he decided to leave a short message: ‘Hi. Remember me? If you do, press one. If you want to eat lunch today, press two. If you think I should go to hell, press pound.’

  He hung up and looked back at the screen. The anti-virus had finished searching. It hadn’t found a virus. He threw his half-eaten yoghurt in the trash. The problem had made him lose his appetite.

  Hanna sat down across from Robert Jarnos, the CEO of TBI’s Swedish office. The video-conferencing equipment was already running, and the screen showed an empty conference table, not unlike the one she had just sat down at. The difference was that the conference table on the screen was at bank headquarters in Tel Aviv. Isaac Berns, the company’s director of IT, had called a global briefing. Robert looked at her.

  ‘Since HQ seems to be late, maybe you can give me an update?’

  Hanna nodded.

  ‘We’ve implemented extensive security reinforcements in the internal and external networks. We’ve also been searching the system for viruses every six minutes for the past twenty-four hours.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  Robert gave a tired smile.

  ‘So there’s no danger?’

  Hanna didn’t return the smile.

  ‘Up until today, this all might have been a nightmare. But, unfortunately, we ran into real problems this morning.’

  Hanna glanced at the video screen. The conference table in Tel Aviv was still empty.

  ‘It started in Corporate Finance, when several important folders went missing. When we called up the automatic backup, the system froze. Then, when we restarted, the server at Haninge crashed. Also, the internal network is sluggish in general.’

  ‘Which means?’

  ‘Which means that we have malware in the system — a virus.’

  ‘But you said that you’re scanning every six minutes.’

  ‘Indeed we are. Our anti-virus programs can’t find anything, but that doesn’t mean there’s nothing to find. It just means we’re dealing with a more sophisticated enemy.’

  Robert gave Hanna a long look.

  ‘How are you doing? I don’t mean any offence, but you don’t look well.’

  ‘I’ve been sleeping badly the last few nights. Otherwise, I’m fine.’

  The speakers crackled, and Isaac Berns sat down heavily before the camera in Tel Aviv. He was a short, ruddy man with an intense gaze. In his hand he held a large coffee mug with Mickey Mouse ears.

  ‘Shalom, everyone. I’ll skip the pleasantries and get right to the point. As you know, the bank has been threatened by a virus attack. Early this morning, our systems starting acting strangely. Among other things, data disappeared from our servers in Jerusalem and Haifa. We’ve also noticed a substantial decrease in capacity — our tests indicate that the network has lost as much as 40 per cent.’

  He took a sip from Mickey Mouse.

  ‘We’re working with several state authorities to find the virus. As I’m sure you know, the conventional search programs haven’t been able to find anything. If we can’t find the virus, we can’t protect ourselves from it. On the bright side, today we tested a new program that will change that.’

  One of the other bank offices asked a question they couldn’t hear, and Isaac nodded.

  ‘Yes, it’s different from all the other ones we’ve tested. In short, computer viruses most often use some sort of shield, so-called stealth techniques, to avoid detection. The most common forms are active modification, variable encryption, polymorphism, and metamorphism. Traditional viruses are monogamous — they can only choose one of these disguises — so they can be traced with a good anti-virus program. But newer and more sophisticated viruses can create combinations, and we’ve even heard rumours of variants that can mutate. In these cases, conventional virus protection doesn’t work.’

  Another sip from Mickey. Hanna noticed that Robert was filling his notebook with squares, hearts, and circles — a clear indication that he was bored.

  ‘The program we developed last night is based on Nobel Prize-winner Manfred Hoff’s algorithm, and it uses a new type of holistic pattern analysis. If any of you would like to know more about it, let us know. But for the rest of you who don’t give a shit about how it works, just please start using it. We’ll start distributing it right after the meeting. We want to get the search results in immediately. Anyone who finds the virus will receive a special protocol to follow.’

  Hanna leaned toward the microphone and pressed the ‘talk’ button.

  ‘Hanna Söderqvist, Sweden, here. So if I’ve understood you correctly, you’ve found the virus?’

  She looked anxiously at Isaac, who nodded.

  ‘We have. Our new program found the virus in just a minute or two.’

  ‘Hanna again. Have you also developed some form of anti-virus?’

  Isaac chuckled.

  ‘Somehow, it was like the virus wanted us to discover it. Once we knocked on the right door, the virus was happy to open it and show itself. So we know it’s called Mona. But that’s about all we know. I can’t say how long it will take to develop an anti-virus. First and foremost, we have to map out how far it has spread. Therefore, I want all of you to install the new search program immediately, so we can track all potential infections. By the way, we’ve named the program Mona Tza’yad. Loosely translated, it means “Mona Hunter”.’

  One hour later, Hanna went back into her office and closed the door. She didn’t sit down at her computer; rather, she sank into one of the visitors’ chairs. Her migraine was worse, and she didn’t feel well. She sat still for a long time, her eyes closed. Then she took off her jacket and unbuttoned her blouse. Her back was wet with sweat. She forced herself to go through everything one more time. The team had installed Mona Tza’yad, and twelve minutes later they’d found the virus. It seemed that Mona had infiltrated the whole system. Hanna had implemented all the measures that Tel Aviv had set forth in the protocol. The virus had been discovered in every office, and, after a certain amount of anguish, Isaac Berns had asked her to close down the internal network as well. The practical implication of this was that everyone at the bank could go home. There wasn’t much they could do without IT support.

  Was there anything more she could do? No, at this point, all she could do was wait for Tel Aviv to crack the virus. She thought of Eric, and felt the need to hear his voice. She reached over the desk and picked up her phone, but just sat there holding it. She suddenly went ice-cold. What was the name she was going to look up? She could picture him, but she couldn’t connect a name to the image. She scrolled aimlessly through her address book. After a while, she gave up and lowered her trembling hands.

  I can’t remember my own husband’s name.

  The defragmentation of the hard
drive would take another few minutes. After Eric had returned home from the meeting at KTH, he had tried to fix the errant computer. It was still running slowly, and several error reports had been generated during the afternoon. He had cleaned up the system as well as he could, and then uninstalled all programs that weren’t absolutely necessary. His last measure had been to gather up all the information on the hard disk by defragmenting it.

  He paged through Fokus magazine and waited. The meeting at KTH had gone well, and everyone was enthusiastic about the next phase of the project. Tomorrow they would get to test Mind Surf for real. Some of them had been working on the system for several years, so for them this would be very special. Some of the group members had started to doubt they’d ever reach their goal; in fact, as he thought back, he realised that he had been one of them himself. But the ability to run tests tomorrow depended upon his fixing the computer. There was a complete Mind Surf system at KTH, too, but he had made a number of modifications in his own program, and didn’t trust the school’s version.

  He looked at his phone, which lay beside the keyboard. There were no missed calls and no messages. He had tried Hanna several times, but without hearing back from her. The defragmentation was finished, and the computer restarted. He was just about to check the cords between the converter and the helmet when the front door banged shut.

  ‘Welcome home, dear!’

  No answer. He found her on the sofa in the hall, pale and shrunken. She still had her coat on. He sat down and hugged her hard.