“We have to do a dry run first,” Data said.
Fahd nodded. He understood. The others were not so sure. As soon as they were back in the hotel, Travis had carefully written down the numbers – mumbling as he did so, 2-1-2, 5-5-5, me-Nish-Sarah” – and though Fahd had looked at him a little oddly, he’d taken the slip of paper and handed it to Data.
“Whadya mean ‘a dry run’?” Nish practically shouted. “You think I’m gonna wet my pants at a time like this?”
The others ignored him and set about hooking up the system. They connected the computer to the phone line, used a double jack to connect the telephone itself, and Fahd and Data began calling up their program.
“What’s the number again?” Data asked.
Fahd spun the paper so Data could see as he typed it into the computer. There was a pause and then, quickly, a series of notes as the computer dialled.
No one dared take a breath while they waited.
There was a long, seemingly too long, hiss, then some loud clicks and buzzes, then silence.
“We’re in!” Data said in a voice somewhere between a whisper and a hiss.
The logo of the broadcaster came up first on Data’s screen, and then a small box, empty, with the cursor pulsating in the corner. “PASSWORD,” it said above the box.
“Now’s the tough part,” said Data.
Fahd held his hands over the keyboard, his fingers dancing in the air.
“What is it?” Fahd kept saying. “What is it? What is it?”
“Probably the director’s name,” said Andy.
“Nah,” said Data. “It would be a code word. Something they wouldn’t forget.”
“The date?” Jesse suggested.
“I like it,” Fahd said, and immediately typed in the date.
They waited a moment while the screen faded, then bounced back.
“PASSWORD FAILURE” the screen said. “PLEASE TRY AGAIN.”
“Be careful,” Data said. “Probably three mistakes and it closes down. There might even be an alert on it.”
“The name of the host?” Derek suggested.
“That might be it!” said Fahd. He typed the host’s name in and then pressed ENTER.
The screen faded and then reappeared.
“PASSWORD FAILURE. PLEASE TRY AGAIN.”
“Last chance,” Data muttered. He sounded ready for defeat.
“Happy New Year,” said Nish miserably. He sounded as if his world had just come to an end.
Fahd turned around quickly. “What was that?”
“What was what?” Nish said, not following.
“What you just said.”
“Happy New Year?”
“That could be it!” Fahd said. “That’s probably it.”
“Type it in,” Data said.
Fahd’s fingers flew over the keys. He hit ENTER, and again the page on the screen vanished. This time, however, it did not come back right away saying they had failed. When the screen returned it said something different.
“NEW YEAR’S SPECIAL.”
Fahd pumped a fist over his head. “You did it, Nish! You’re a genius!”
“It took you till now to find that out?” Nish said. But he was red-cheeked and smiling, astonished at his own lucky guess.
Files began appearing on the screen.
“What’re those?” Andy asked.
“Should be everything,” Data said. “Even the commercial breaks. Everything that isn’t live is right here as a pre-recorded file, and all it takes is a double click to load it up onto the big screen.”
“How do I get my butt up there?” Nish asked. His voice was a bit whiney, as if he resented no longer being the centre of attention, the glory going, for the moment, to Data and Fahd, who had hacked their way into the broadcast.
“Simple,” explained Data. “I just insert your file into the list and double-click when we want it up. It overrides everything.”
“From here?” Nish asked.
“From here,” Data said.
“I get to moon the world and I don’t even have to leave my hotel room to do it?”
“You got it, Einstein.”
“Beauty,” Nish said. “Beauty.”
Just then there was a loud rap at the door.
Everyone froze.