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Rachel sat at her computer coding a universal computer hack. It was based on the coding she pioneered for gravity phased arrays. But this was easier, using electromagnetic waves instead of gravity waves. Whenever a bit flipped from zero to one, or from one to zero, inside a computer chip, a minuscule current flowed, which produced a minuscule electromagnetic wave. In most computer chips that happened several billion times each second. But if Rachel flipped just the right bits in a chip, and flipped them at just the right times, she could turn those bits into a phased array. She could focus the waves from that phased array elsewhere in the chip, forcing other bits to flip. Basically, she could make a program in one part of a chip reprogram an entirely separate part of the chip, without touching it. This hack bypassed all existing firewalls.
At the moment she was coding a program that, for any chip, if you told it what bits you wanted to flip in an otherwise inaccessible part of the chip, it would figure out what bits you had to use as a phased array in an accessible part of the chip. Then it would write the program to do it.
She grinned as she coded.
Every computer in the world will soon be at my mercy. Bwa-ha-ha!
She paused.
She stopped grinning.
Every computer in the world will soon be at my mercy.
If this leaks out, every computer in the world will be hacked. Financial. Military. Medical. Energy. Antigravity. All of them. Civilization would crumble within days.
Should I tell Boingy about this? Should I tell Uncle Itzak?
Should I tell anyone?
If I can code it now, someone else will code it soon.
Who the hell are the good guys?
Am I a good guy?
Are there any good guys?
She continued coding. Coding is a drug. A good drug. It produces intense focus, making you oblivious to the world. A Buddhist oblivion. Selfless oblivion. Nothing exists but the code. And it yields great satisfaction.
But it is addictive. I need the oblivion. Oblivion from the world. I’ve seen too much. Oblivion from myself. I know too much.
She continued coding. But she fidgeted.
Some timeless minutes later, her computer chimed softly. An email from Itzak, “Shalom, my lovely niece. Just checking to see how you’re doing. Anything new? I hope you’re not lonely there, just you and Benny. Would you like to come over for dinner on Thursday?”
‘Lovely niece?’ Shit. Ten-to-one he wants me to kill someone.
Though I’m curious who it is.
‘Anything new?’ Is the timing of his email a coincidence? Does he know about my new hack? Has he hacked me? What did I miss?
She paused.
‘Lonely?’
She stood up. She looked at the time display on her computer screen. It was late night.
She looked over at Benny’s bed. He slept peacefully.
‘Lonely?!’
She turned and walked quietly up the basement stairs, down the hall, and into her bedroom.
On her dresser stood a framed faded photo of a young man. Ruggedly handsome. Confident. Subtle smile. Eyes with a mischievous twinkle. She stood still, staring at him for a long time.
Yes, there are good guys.
Time to decide if I’m one of them.
Rachel went to her upstairs office and replied to Itzak’s email, “Nothing new. Just knitting. Dinner Thursday would be nice. See you then.”
Then she called Boingy.