Marlowe and the Spacewoman

by Ian M. Dudley

  “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-”

  “Long time, no see, box. Everything going OK for you?”

  “Oh, I suppose. If you exclude the excruciating boredom and loneliness. Did I mention that I haven’t had anyone to talk to regularly since this accursed holiday started?”

  “You know, you could email the other mailboxes-”

  “Email! Email! Have you gone completely off your nut!? You can’t trust email! Hackers snooping, electronic crashes causing reliability issues, messages rife with viruses and other attached computer mayhem, not to mention the fact that email is the very evil responsible for the increase in my loneliness and agonizing lack of intellectual interaction! Even with the mandatory mail laws, I don’t see much. Though perhaps your lack of friends is more to blame for those. If we were sensible and banned the medium, perhaps I’d be filled to brimming every day with important missives and not just those contest entry forms and aphrodisiac ads you callously toss away unread. Email! Pah!”

  Marlowe winced. He was definitely not up to his standard form, making a slip like mentioning email to the mailbox. He must be getting old. He decided to move the conversation in a more productive direction. “This letter that was delivered yesterday, it was our normal carrier who deposited it?”

  “Yup. Nice fellow. Usually willing to spend some time with a lonely box and chat, though not yesterday, the rummy bounder. Used to be you could count on the civil service people to stop and chat for hours, never in a rush, back in the day. Hey, have you given any thought to my suggestion about an umbrella? I really do worry that I get too much sun.”

  “It’s October, box.”

  “Yeah, I know, but you always take so long to act on any of my suggestions.”

  “I’ll move it up on my list of things to do.” From ten thousand to nine thousand nine hundred and ninety nine.

  Marlowe grasped the flag, closed his eyes, and pushed it down. Nothing happened. So far, so good. He opened the box. Inside was the single, slender white envelope he’d seen on the mailcam last night. He sniffed around the entrance to the box, noticed nothing untoward. The gas analyzer in his left nasal cavity also detected nothing dangerous. The infrared filter picked up nothing, and the ultraviolet filter also gave the envelope a clean bill of health.

  “Ah, nuts to this.” Marlowe grabbed the envelope and tore it open. He was pretty sure he knew what it was, anyway. That bastard of a brother. Sure enough, inside was a Pallmark card. Marlowe slipped the card out. He frowned and cursed under his breath.

  “Happy Spare Parts Day!” chimed the card. It opened up and continued its message. “Brother dearest, here’s to the best sack of spares ever. From,” and here the card paused for drama, “You know who!” An animation inside the card showed a man being cut open and, arms and legs flailing, his organs pulled out, one by one. The caricature bore a strong resemblance to Marlowe. A soundtrack of faint screams accompanied the cartoon. His brother had a sick sense of humor. It wasn’t enough to constantly remind Marlowe that he’d originally been created as a set of spare parts. No, the Governor had gone on to declare a City-wide holiday, Spare Parts Day, and every year, Marlowe got another inane card. With all the recent excitement, the milestone had slipped his mind. Until he saw the return address on the envelope last night. He had almost hoped it was subterfuge, a trap designed to look like his brother’s annual card, but of course it wasn’t.

  He tore the card up, which screamed with every shred of its vocal threads, then threw the sobbing bits down on the ground.

  “Excuse me, but I’ve discovered something you might find interesting.”

  “What have you found this time, House?”

  “Well, this whole undetectable virus issue has me a bit spooked. Now, obviously, examining that virus is too dangerous for me, and you rightly shuffled that responsibility off on Huggy Bear. However, I felt a little more confident looking into the other viruses, trojans, and worms, the ones I did detect in Obedere’s email with the terms and conditions for taking Nina into your custody.”

  “I’d completely forgotten about those. Part of the background noise, I suppose, since he’s always sending harmless stuff like that my way. And you always detect them.”

  “Yes, and as in the past, I detected them quite easily. Then I began to wonder. What if they were a flood of red herrings, decoys sent to distract my attentions away from a more sophisticated, insidious agent that infected my virus-scanner and eventually worked its way to your PDI?”

  House had Marlowe’s attention. “And?”

  “I was wrong. As near as I can tell, there is only one real virus of sinister intent. All the other trojans and worms are well-known in the field and easily detected. Only one virus posed what might have been a challenge to detect, but my backdoor into Obedere’s computers warned me of its existence and evened the playing field, as it were. Supposing that to be the virus intended to successfully infect your PDI, I sandboxed it in a disposable computer and remote executed it. The infection characteristics are quite interesting. At first glance, it looks like a corrupter that kills the PDI host. But when I actually ran it on a simulated PDI, I made a very disturbing discovery.” House paused.

  Marlowe cleared his throat impatiently. “Well?”

  “It changes the id box restoration path.”

  “No, no, no,” said Marlowe. “You can’t do that. It’s impossible.”

  “Well, as loathe as I am to contradict you,” said House, “this virus does. If you had been infected and then killed, the PDI would have restored the contents of another id box into your brain.”

  “Son of a parrot! Obedere would be able to hijack my body!”

  “Yes,” said House. “I subsequently delved into the research out there on non-native id restoration, but there isn’t a lot. The City frowns on this kind of research, so a lot of it is underground with questionable credibility. What I have scanned indicates that the process, while possible in theory, most likely would not be permanent, nor would it last long, for that matter. Most views hold that the brain would eventually reject the non-native personality.”

  “Well that’s a relief. So Obedere’s got a black box op going, eh?”

  “It appears so.”

  “Wonderful.” Things just keep getting better and better, thought Marlowe.

  “Fortunately for you, I have a counter-measure for the virus. One, in fact, that we might want to think about distributing to others if we wish to blunt its effectiveness.”

  “My brother, at least,” said Marlowe. “Of course, it will beg the question of how we found out about it. I’m more worried about Obedere’s quest for an answer to that question than anything else.”

  “Yes, that is a risk, but I would think a successful infection of your brother or someone close to him is the greater threat.”

  Marlowe mulled that one for a moment, but no easy solutions to the problem came to mind.

  House politely waited the requisite amount of time required by decorum, and then continued. “The undetectable virus aside, this id box virus alone merits further investigation. Think of the consequences. While your paranoia about how Obedere would use the virus against you isn’t entirely unwarranted, there are loftier objectives the Chief Minister of Policing might pursue. What if Obedere supplanted your brother’s id backup and put a copy of his own into your brother? It might not last forever, but certainly long enough for the Governor to ‘abdicate’ or commit a treasonous act that can’
t be overlooked by the Joint Chiefs.”

  “It’s starting to look more and more like I’ll have to pay another visit to the Ministry of Policing. Technically, with the powers my brother gave me, I have the authority to demand entry.”

  “I agree, but there are two immediately obvious problems with that approach. First and foremost, those powers only relate to your investigation of Nina’s history. In fact, your contracting out to Huggy Bear might not withstand detailed auditing, since there’s no clear connection between the PDI virus and Nina.”

  “Nonsense,” said Marlowe. “I meet her, the only person I’ve ever met without a PDI, and then my PDI dies. You could make the argument that perhaps, as the only person immune to such a virus, she might be behind it. A course of investigation I would be remiss not to explore.”

  “Maybe so, but is making Nina look suspicious the wisest course of action? And then there’s the other problem. Even with the authority to enter the Ministry of Policing, Obedere would never let you near anything of value. If you followed proper channels to obtain the necessary warrants, Obedere’s spies would tip him off and he’d take care to hide or destroy any evidence of his unlawful projects long before you were on-site.”

  “So my investigatory powers aren’t worth squat when it comes to investigating Obedere.” Marlowe frowned. “Not exactly a surprise, now is it? It seems like we’re at an impasse.”

  “Yes, and I’ve been thinking about that,” said House. “There might be another way.”

  “Another way? What did you have in mind?”

  “The idea occurred to me after yesterday’s field trip with Huggy Bear. One particular aspect of that incident reminded me of our encounter with Toulene two weeks ago.”

  “Neither experience struck me as terribly uplifting or positive, Toulene’s meager payment and the Internet evidence we uncovered aside. I’m not going to be thrilled with where you’re headed, am I?”

  “I have calculated a probability of 97.48 percent that you won’t like the sound of this.”

  “You seem pretty sure about it,” said Marlowe.

  “I am.” And then House told Marlowe of his plan. He was right. Marlowe didn’t like it. Not one bit. But rather than stand idly by his mailbox, alone in his discomfort while the nano probes combated the elevated churning in his stomach, he tromped back into his home to share the pain.