

Meeting of Minds

Ben Chenoweth

First published by Ben Chenoweth in 1994  
This edition published on Smashwords in 2011  
(www.smashwords.com/books/view/53406

Text copyright © Ben Chenoweth 1994  
The moral right of the author has been asserted

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Typeset in 11pt Cardo (headings in Brisk) by Ben Chenoweth  
Cover design by Ben Chenoweth  
Author photograph by Michael Bottomer (Life Through A Lens)

www.ephesusscroll.com  
ephesus.scroll@gmail.com

To David,

For friendship, and inspiration.

This is for you, and your sense of humour.

#

# part one:  
MeetingOfMindsTM

"Nothing which is at all times and in every way agreeable to us can have objective reality. It is of the very nature of the real that it should have sharp corners and rough edges, that is should be resistant, should be itself. Dream-furniture is the only kind on which you never stub your toes or bang your knee."

C.S.Lewis

##

## before

### Mom's Place

He opened his eyes.

All he could see was white, like an expanse of pristine snow gleaming under a clear sky, an immensity of pureness that almost made him close his eyes again.  He found it impossible to judge depth; he could have been looking millions of miles, or just at a brightly lit ceiling.

And then, as if his eyes had adjusted to the lightness, he was looking at a brightly lit ceiling.

Alright, he thought.  I'm here.  Now what?

He was lying on what felt like a bed.  Quite comfortable actually.  It wasn't too hard (or else, what's the point of using a bed at all - you might as well sleep on the floor), and not too soft (which always left various parts of his anatomy feeling like they'd just run a marathon without stretching first or having a nice pleasant massage afterwards.)

He sat up, feeling a trifle dizzy.  The room shifted into focus, as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and placed his feet in the luxurious carpet.

Nice.  Trés chic.

A quick glance around the room showed that it looked remarkably like one you would find in any decent and upstanding hostelry in the better parts of town: plenty of space, expensive furniture that looked antique (but beautifully restored), pictures on the walls, walk-in wardrobes with brass fittings.  Presumably, one of the doors led to an en suite.  Lots of shine, taste and money was on view.  It was quite apparent that the interior decorators knew how to spell the word 'opulent', and had a good idea what it meant.

There was a little bedside table within arm's reach.  On it, there was a telephone, a couple of books, and a glass of water.  He was never one to pass up an opportunity to browse through a book so he picked up one of them.  It had quite a long title: A Smug Little Treatise On The Value Of A Planned Political Economy, by a Scholar.  Very strange, yet somehow familiar.  Not quite what he would have expected to find in the circumstances (he'd been expecting a Gideon's Bible), but still it could be useful.  For insomnia, for instance.  He opened it only to find that all the pages were blank.

Curiouser and curiouser, he thought, thumbing quickly through the book.  Ah, of course!  A product of the collapse of the Empire, brought on by the success of custom-built planets...  A subtle reference, but I sense your hand in it, Dave.

He put the book down next to the other one, which he now noticed was a Gideon's Bible.  Without needing to open it, he just knew that John 3:16 would be underlined.  It always was.

He stood up with the intent to check out the pictures.  His first glance had shown there were two Picassos (looking disconcertingly genuine) and a print of M.C.Escher's 'Relativity' hung upside-down, not that anyone but an authority would have known.  He was just going over to check, when the telephone started ringing.

Well, someone knows I'm here.  I guess it must be Dave, although I thought I'd meet him in person.  He leant over and picked up the receiver.

"Ah, hello?"

"Yo, Jon!  How ya doing?"

He recognised the voice easily.

"Dave, I thought I'd be seeing you..."

"Oh, I decided to give you some time to adjust.  I'm real close to you.  Just down the passage."

"Which passage?"

"The one outside your room."

"Oh, I hadn't got that far yet... this is a hotel, right?"

"Well, more a sort of reception area, really.  You wouldn't want to materialise in the middle of a conference, would you?"

"No, I guess not.  So, this is MeetingOfMindsTM.  I'd heard so much about it, but it's even more impressive than I'd even imagined.  The carpet is amazing..."

"Yeah, I know."

"Tell, me," asked Jon, "What's the 'TM' for?"

"It's the abbreviation for 'trade mark'.  You know, some sort of copyright thing.  I don't know much about it, but I know our lawyers are always going on about it.  Look, let's finish this now, and I'll take you to the conference room itself."

"OK.  Where do I go?"

"Out the door, turn left, and I'll meet you outside my room."

"Easy enough."

"Right, be seeing you."

"Bye."

He hung up.

Well, no point hanging around.  He walked over to the door, opened it, and stepped through.  Into an en suite.  It, too, was radiantly stylish while retaining a certain rustic charm, but it wasn't the passage.  Backtracking, he tried the other door.  This time he found the corridor.

The interior decorators hadn't limited all their time (or funds) to the reception rooms, for the corridor carried on the same fixation-with-wealth motif: more famous paintings lined the walls, the carpet was deep, every shiny surface gleamed, and antique electric light-fittings[1] hung from the ceiling.  The whole effect was spoiled somewhat by the man at the end who was wearing ripped jeans, a scruffy goatee that any self-respecting goat would have shaved off years ago, and a Mickey Mouse tie.  Dave.

Jon hurried towards him.

"Hey, what took you so long?" he asked Jon.

"Well, I thought I'd better check out the, er, facilities.  You know, the en suite."

"Oh, right.  Well, what do you think?"

"Quite nice.  Polished...um...clean...button looked like it would work..."

"Not about the toilet!  I mean, what do you think of the whole set-up?"

"Oh, sorry... It's great, I mean, fantastic.  Must have cost a fortune."

"Looks that way doesn't it."  Dave looked pleased.  "We spent a lot of time making sure it was up to scratch.  After all, for us the appearance is everything.  As they say, beauty is in the eye of the beholder."

"Well this beholder is impressed."

"Enough chit-chat.  Come and have a look at the conference room.  It's worth seeing."

Dave led Jon down the passage to a large double-door which he proceeded to open.  On the other side was a magnificent room, although calling it a 'room' was to diminish the impact.  It was more like a sculpture.  This would be what the United Nations Assembly would look like if they had the budget of a Steven Spielberg movie, Jon thought.  And the effects.

There was a huge circular table in the middle of the room, with a large hole in the centre.  Around the outside of the table were seats, indented slightly so that the whole thing, seen from above, would resemble a giant cog-wheel.  In front of every seat there was a computer console that included a keyboard, a mouse and a notepad (for a light-pen).  Jon sat down in one of the seats, and Dave sat nearby.

"Well?"

"I'm stunned," said Jon.

"Thanks!"

"It's absolutely amazing..."

"Well, this is Mom's place.  This is MeetingOfMindsTM (and don't you forget the TM!)  This is what corporations around the globe pay through the nose to use for their board meetings."

"It looks great."

"Well, we tried to replicate what the United Nations Assembly would look like if they'd had the budget of a Steven Spielberg movie."

"...And the effects."

"Yeah."

"How does it work?"

"Just like any other kind of meeting, except it takes place in virtual reality.  There are so many advantages.  For instance, the expensive décor costs as much as it takes to program in - and there's no maintenance."

"Very neat."

"Also, we can do a lot of nifty things for speaker presentations."

He pressed a button on the console in front of him and stood up.  And disappeared.

"Dave?"

"Over here."

He'd reappeared in the hole in the centre of the table.

"This is where people can give their speeches, or whatever.  The best thing is that everyone sitting around the table would see me talking directly at them, because each person's vision is individualised.  As the speaker, I actually see everyone in rows.  It also helps if I want to use slides, videos or holovids."

He pushed some more buttons.  First, some spectacular photographs of waterfalls appeared, hanging in the air behind and slightly to the left of him.  Then, the photos started moving.  Then, suddenly, he appeared to be standing next to a real waterfall, splashing his hands under the flow.  As quickly as it appeared, it vanished.

"Alright!" cried Jon, and applauded.

"Thank you, thank you," said Dave, bowing left and right.  "You see, with virtual reality, many impossible things become possible."

"I saw."

"Oh yeah, and if it turns out the speaker is dead boring, there are games built into the consoles, as well as some books, movies, magazines and TV.  Just as long as you don't laugh in the wrong spots, no one will know, because your view is completely personalised."

"I'm getting sick of saying 'amazing'."

"I'm used to it, I guess."

"And it gets used a lot?"

"What, 'amazing'?"

"No.  This whole thing."

"All the time.  We've got facilities for twenty of these conferences to run simultaneously with up to fifty people in each.  We can make even bigger ones, if needed.  And they're all getting used on a regular basis.  Think about it, you can meet people here even if they live on the other side of the world, give or take a fractionally-small time delay."

"Amazing...whoops!"

"Actually, we need to leave about now.  The Australian parliament is booked in five minutes from now.  When the menu appears, just choose QUIT."

Dave disappeared.

A number of words appeared in the air directly in front of Jon.  He reached forward and grasped the one that said QUIT.  The others faded away, leaving a message:

It hung in space long enough for him to read it, then gradually the conference room faded around him, leaving him in a smallish room painted completely with white.  He was sitting on a section of the floor that was raised from the rest at a comfortable seat height, wearing a light, rubberish jump-suit that completely covered every centimetre of his skin except for his face.

He knew where this was.  The room was known as a dynamic interface and was the engineering marvel behind the success of MOMTM.  It was essentially a section of flexible flooring that could move in any direction with a variety of speeds, but that could also be deformed from below.

He stood up, and behind him the floor levelled itself.  Looking about him, he located the door, and walked towards it.  If the floor had been in active mode, he would have stayed very much in the centre of the room, but it was off, so he quickly had the door open and was through.

Jon stepped out into a sophisticated work-room.  A couple of cubicles like the one he'd just been in could be seen around the walls, and in the middle, masses of computers sat on benches.  Dave was already there.

"Our main programming centre," he said, waving vaguely with his left hand.  "Look, I'm dying for a bowl of ice-cream.  Let's get into our proper gear and head to the café down the street.  Don't forget the earplugs and contact lenses."  As he spoke, he took out his earplugs and put them in a receptacle.  The contacts followed.  Jon did the same.

Dave left the room in the direction of the changing facilities, with Jon close behind.  The lights automatically switched themselves off, and in the new darkness, the computers blinked a seemingly random pattern of lights that would have been almost hypnotic if anyone had been there to see them.

### Café Java Jive

"And another thing: computers.  In almost every movie with a computer in it, the people using them can do absolutely astounding things by pushing (at most) three buttons."  Dave was speaking about one of his favourite topics - scientific inaccuracies in movies.  "It's just unreal, in the true sense of the word.  For example, a six-year-old kid creates a three-dimensional model of his bedroom and his backyard - from scratch, mind you - and then animates the escape route of his pet budgerigar, all by pushing the spacebar a couple of times!  OK, that may be a bit extreme, but you know what I mean..."

It was Jon's turn.

"Yeah, I notice some things as well, relating to my own interests, I guess.  A good example is in Dances With Wolves.  There's this white woman, right, who's supposed to have been raised by the Sioux for most of her life.  However, when Kevin Costner shows up, she starts to remember English.  Fair enough, it is an important plot device, and saves Costner having to learn Sioux.  The only thing is, she speaks English really nasally.  Extremely so.  I guess the film-makers wanted her to sound different.  Anyway, the problem is the Sioux language is not the least bit nasal, at least as it is spoken in the film.  So there is no linguistic reason why she would speak English nasally..."

They were sitting in the café around the corner from the workshop of MOMTM, and had just about finished their late-night snack.

"I remember someone telling me," said Dave, noisily slurping the dregs of his milkshake, "that Arnie, in the famous motorcycle chase along a canal in Terminator 2, changes up gears at least fifty times without once changing down."

"Hmmm," murmured Jon.  "Makes you think..."

"Why?  What about?"

"Oh, I don't know.  I was just thinking."

"Er, right."

"Anyway, Dave, tell me more about MeetingOfMinds."

"TM."

"Yeah, sorry, TM."

"OK, brief rundown.  You've seen the dynamic interface, and the actual Mom's place..."

"...and very impressive it was, too."

"Look, if you interrupt, we'll be here all night."

"Sorry."  Jon tried to sound suitably penitent, but failed miserably.

"Well, the dynamic interface, in conjunction with the electronics in the jumpsuit, can simulate any surface shape and texture.  You, yourself, experienced the feel of the carpet.  Not only that, but since the floor can move in any direction, including up and down in sections, all movement can be simulated as well.  I'm not just talking about walking, but also running, climbing stairs, riding a bicycle, driving a car.  The only difficulties we've found have been trying to get the effect of falling.  Climbing a cliff-face is also hard to accomplish.  Weightlessness, I fear, may be impossible at this stage.  Anyway, we're working on those."

"We?"

"Oh, the programmers and engineers at MOMTM."

"What about the jumpsuit?  What's the point of wearing it?"

"You weren't listening.  As I said, there's a lot of electronics built into it, so that it can simulate texture by stimulating your touch receptors electrically.  It also fools your muscles into thinking they are pressing against something if needed.  A wall, for instance.  Of course, there's the earphones, and the scent-glands for any appropriate smells.  The contact-lenses are the most delicate part, but they basically project an image into each eye.  Put everything together, and I call it LSD - Localised Sensory Deception."

"Sounds hopelessly complicated."

"Well, it took ages to set up, but it's been modulated really well.  Now that it's all there, it doesn't take much to design a new room."

"I'm very impressed, and boy, have I said that too many times today.  No, it really works well."

"Oh, they don't call me Doctor Dave for nothing... and don't say it's because I pay them..."

They finished up, paid for their meals, and left the café.  Walking along the road back to MOMTM, Jon remembered something that had been bothering him slightly.

"And where do I fit into all this?  What needs to be done now?"

"Well, MOMTM is fully established now.  We've got cubicles scattered over most of the country and in places overseas, too; it's growing quickly now.  But we're looking to upgrades, and one thing will be exteriors, especially night exteriors.  That's where your astrophysics comes in."

"All right, that sounds fun."

"Thought you'd like it.  Look, I want you to come round to my place next Thursday, and meet Ruth."

"Ruth?"

"She's another one of the programmers at MOMTM.  And my girlfriend."

They'd reached where Jon had parked his car, although that was certainly stretching the meaning of the word.  To say it was road-worthy would be to overlook the faulty electrical system, the missing wheel-nuts, the wired-on muffler, the cracks in the crank-case, and the fact that reverse didn't work.

"Well, I'd best be off, Dave.  Thanks heaps for the tour."

"Not a problem.  You might be seeing a bit more of it."

"Looking forward to it.  And to Thursday."

"See you then."

"Bye."

Jon started the engine (fourth try), put the car in gear (with a stomach-churning grind), and drove off.  Surprisingly, there wasn't any part of the engine sitting on the road where the car had been; Dave had almost expected it.  He walked off cheerfully, trying to remember where he'd parked his own car.

Behind him, a crumpled aluminium can sparkled in the reflected street-light, looking like a star trying to communicate with Earth using an alien morse code.

### Andy's Existence

A light rain fell, as a figure hurried across one of the many court-yards that made up the grounds of the University.  Deciduous trees, their branches denuded of foliage, swayed in the breeze while their own leaves, whipped into eddies, swirled about the trunks.  A couple of adventurous leaves saw an opportunity to make someone's day, and flew into the face of the figure, and clung there stubbornly.  The boy, in an unsuccessful attempt to dislodge them, stumbled into a puddle and splashed muddy water all over his legs.  The fact that this had happened on the one day in his life when he was wearing a suit did not escape him.  He swore, inventively.  Unlike people who swear because they only know one adjective and a few nouns, he'd long since decided to increase his word power, especially in the realm of exclamations.  He'd just used one that a medical student had taught him; it was quite impressive, and he'd been practising.

He tried to lessen the damage by brushing the water off, but the damage had been done.  And he was already late.

Aw, who cares! he thought.  It probably won't make any difference...

He continued on, however.  He knew he'd lied just then - he did care, otherwise he'd never have bothered with the suit.  So, here he was, dressed up to the nines (well, with the muddy legs, it was probably only seven and a half), scurrying across the University in an attempt to make it to an interview with one of his lecturers.

If anything, the rain was heavier than before, but this seemed to dampen the enthusiasm of any gymnastically-inclined leaves - none bothered him again.  However, the rain played havoc with his suit.  Make that 'six', he thought.

He was nearly at the computer centre now; he could see the lighted windows where the computer labs were.

Man, you make one mistake and you pay for it for the rest of your life.  If only today will be the last time...  He'd certainly hoped so.  That's what the suit was for - to show that he was ready to move on.  If only...

He entered the first computer lab and shook the rain out of his hair.  He'd been instructed to meet Dr. Werner in the third lab, so he hurried through.  The place was deserted; most of the computer screens were off, waiting.  From another room, or even another floor, he heard muffled voices, but he couldn't distinguish any words.

This is almost creepy.

The second lab was as deserted as the first.

So was the third.

OK, so I'm late.  At least you could have waited for me...

He was about to turn around and leave when a lighted computer screen caught his eye.  It was the only one in the whole room that was on.  Moving closer, he saw that there was only one word on the screen: 'Andy'.  His name.

He sat down at the terminal.  He started typing.

\- here.

\- about time.  Passwd?

\- fingers

\- good 2 hear from u a.

\- sorry i'm late.

\- ok. progress report on tr?

\- done. no more probs from tr.

\- xellent.  next job: dp.

\- wait.  i thought that was it.

\- wrong.  u can't cheat on projects & xpect 2 b let off.

\- yes but i have done your dirty work 4 2 years now.

\- enough!  if this 1 is successful i may re-consider your position.

\- u mean graduation?

\- yes.  but this uni cannot b seen 2 promote cheats even ones who r good hackers.

\- ok. next job?

\- david parkin.  progr at mom.  i want u 2 monitor his work over next months.  nothing more.  yet.

\- ok.

\- call me after 1st contact.  usual channels. ^C

\- yes sir. ^C

He stood up, angrily.  Swearwords!  Another job.  And he'd forgotten to mention the suit.  Over the terminals it could have been 'nine' and Dr. Werner wouldn't have known any better.

He needed a coffee, so he went to the Caf.

He met Al on the way.  It was fairly late in the evening by now, and only a few students were around, scurrying home after late lectures, trying to avoid flying leaves.  The Caf, however, was quite full.  On a cold night, a hot cup of coffee does much to soothe a weary body, thought Andy.  Which is exactly what I need.

Al was a typical student.  He dressed in the unofficial uniform of the University: jeans (Levi red tabs), shirt (with an exposed T-shirt underneath.)  He wore Doc Martens as well, but this was optional.  He took his studies fairly seriously, but was not adverse to missing the occasional tutorial.  After all, everyone did.  In fact, you weren't considered a 'student' until you'd missed an important lecture just to have coffee in the Caf with friends.

Andy, on the other hand, was from a sub-culture.  He (usually) dressed very similarly to Al, but would never attend tutorials, and would miss lectures just to make use of the electronic mailing systems on the University computers.  He had a number of file-systems into which megabytes of data were down-loaded from various bulletin boards each month.  Sifting though them required much time, but it was worth it in his opinion.  He knew what was going on in many of the Universities around the globe, he'd read a number of important documents detailing recent research in many different fields of study, and his collection of light-bulb jokes was extensive[2].  He knew a number of his lecturers personally, since, although he didn't attend many lectures, he always did well on his projects and in the final exams. They'd admired his abilities and confidently predicted post-graduate research.  In short, he was a computer geek.

Unfortunately, one of his lecturers, Dr. Werner, had caught him doing something illicit way back in first year.  He had done more than just admire Andy's abilities - he'd decided to use them.  He had essentially blackmailed Andy into becoming a computer hacker.

Maybe this will be the last job...

They found an abandoned table, and sat down.  At the moment, cappuccinos were in, especially with sprinklings of powdered chocolate on top of the froth.  However, drinking them through a moustache was not recommended, and since Andy had been cultivating one for half a year, he drank his coffee with a straw.  It added to his image, he'd thought.  Al secretly thought he looked stupid, but didn't mention it.

"So, Andy.  What's with the suit?"

"Oh... um... I just had a, you know, thingy.  Job interview.  That's right."

"What for?"

"Computer ha... I mean, programmer."

"Do you think you'll get it?"

"I don't think so.  Even with the suit."

Actually, he had got the job.  That was the problem.  He took another sip of his drink.

"Al, why are you in so late?"

"Well, I just had a lecture.  Why, what time is it?"

"A bit past seven thirty..."

Al, in the middle of a sip, spluttered.

"Oh, dirty jokes!  I've gotta run.  Look, all the best Andy.  Hope you get a job soon..."

I've already got one. "Yeah, no worries."

"Sorry to dash off like this..."

"No, it's fine.  I've gotta go, too, and get rid of this ghastly suit.  I guess the only good thing about it is none of my friends will recognise me in it."

"Hey, I did," called Al, as he disappeared through the doors of the Caf.

"OK, there is no good thing," said Andy, to himself.  He leisurely finished his cappuccino, staring aimlessly around the room watching people going through the motions of typical conversations.  So much easier with computers.  No body language to confuse the issue.  Everything is so much clearer.  And it makes lying easier...

He got up and left.

In the cafe, the two cups, one empty, the other half-full and still steaming faintly, waited patiently for someone to remove them.  In the meantime, they'd enjoy the atmosphere.

### Unfounded Rumours

Speculation abounds as to the possibility that life exists elsewhere in the Universe, and every branch of science and philosophy has its own reasons for the position it holds.  If nothing else, this debate keeps everyone busy.

Mathematicians have stated that since the Universe is so immeasurably immense, the probability that extra-terrestrial life exists, given that we exist, is rather good.  Say, 0.436 ± 0.001 expressed as a decimal.

Physicists point to quantum mechanics and ask if, in fact, we exist at all.  The probability waves associated with every particle in the Universe mean that matter is an illusion.  Thus, life must be as well.

Chemists, still trying to come to terms with DNA and its remarkable complexities, waver between "How can anything so complex come into being at all?" and "If it happened here, why not elsewhere too?"

Which is what biologists claim.  Evolution, they say, produced us.  What's to stop it producing aliens as well?

Creationists jump in at this point and ask, well where did life start?  If you say anything with the words "big" or "bang" in it, we'll have to ask "But what caused that?"  Of course God created life, and who's to say if that includes aliens or not.  Tell you what, we'll ask him for you.

Atheists have a hard time swallowing that argument, but then again atheism has its problems.  If you go around saying "I don't believe in this" or "I don't believe in that", people are bound to ask about what you do believe.  And then maybe question the whole concept of belief.

Cynics, still celebrating the crop-circles fiasco, look to the stars and say, "Yeah, right!  As if..."

To which mystics everywhere look hurt, but a glimmer returns to their eyes when they talk about the ancient architecture of Egypt, the Mayans and Easter Islanders, and say "They had help.  We're sure of it.  Look, these squiggles here: it's a signature!"

Psychiatrists respond by taking out their ink blots.  "So," they ask.  "When did you first start thinking about aliens?"  They nod, understandingly, at the reply.  "Ah," they say, having got beyond the surface problem to those lying underneath.  "When did you first start hating your mother?"

Most computer scientists couldn't really care if there are aliens or not, as long as they can be contacted through e-mail: something along the lines of zeebrak@barnardstar.ophiuchus.mw.

Certainly most radio astronomers are content to just sit back and discover another pulsar, and leave the debate to everyone else.  Which was why, when an extra-terrestrial message was picked up at Coonabarabran, many people appreciated the irony.

Of course, that was much later.

It had been a quiet week for Dexter Gilroy, one of the senior astronomers at the University's radio telescope just outside Coonabarabran.  They'd been doing a prolonged exposure of galaxy 3c 449, and had produced a quite decent radio map sequence.  He was even thinking of having them framed and put on the wall of his office, when one of the lab technicians bounded in through the door.

"Gilroy, sir!  It's happening!"

"What on Earth are you talking about, Tim?"

"That's just it, it's not on Earth!"

"What isn't?"

"A message!"

"What?"

"A message from outer space!"

"Can you say anything without needing an exclamation mark?"

"Sorry, it's just so exciting!"

"Well, let's have a look."

He followed Tim down to the main control centre.  There was a cluster of people around a terminal in the centre of the room.  Gilroy strode in.

"What's all this about?"

One of the other astronomers tore his eyes away from the terminal.  "Sir, we're receiving a signal."

"Tim indicated as much.  What is it?"

"Well, it's a sequence of three re-occurring wavelengths.  It is not a naturally occurring phenomenon and it appears to be emanating from Canis Majoris, also known as Sirius."

"Yes, yes, I know that - I'm an astronomer."

"The star is only 8.7 light years away, and so the red-shift is negligible."

"Then could the signal be coming from a satellite in geo-stationary orbit?"

"We thought of that, but there are none in the correct position."

"Good grief, then it's genuine."

"It looks that way, sir."

"Right.  Make sure the message is fully recorded, then make a number of back-up copies.  This is a very significant point in history, ladies and gentlemen.  This is another giant leap for mankind."  He rubbed his hands together.  "And, it's going to bring us a fortune!"

There were cries of "Hear, hear!" from all present.

The message continued, oblivious to the talk of monetary gain.

Within four hours it stopped.  The astronomers quickly realised that the message could be stored much more effectively as a series of ternary numbers, and so a computer program was quickly devised to translate.  In addition, a copy was made using visible light instead of radio waves.

Security was tight.  Only a handful of people outside the radio facility were told of the message.  One of these was the head of Computer Science at CSIRO.  His job was to try and decode the message as quickly as possible, so he was given a copy of the message, and no one else was allowed near it, or even to know of its existence.  All the remaining copies were locked inside a safe in the main control centre at the telescope.

Except for a copy Tim kept and sent to a friend in the astro-physics department of the University.  After all, what was the point of having an Earth-shattering piece of news if you didn't shatter the Earth with it?

When Jon got into the University two days after his tour around MOMTM, he found some electronic mail waiting for him in his computer system.  It was a brief note from an old friend he'd  known during his undergraduate years.  He hadn't seen Tim in quite a while, but he was a nice enough guy.  His one failing was to talk in exclamations when he got excited, but that was the sort of thing that made a friendship richer.  He'd got a job in a radio telescope somewhere, Jon was fairly sure.

He read through the note.  Then read it again.  You could hardly see the text for all the exclamation marks, but it was clear enough: there had been a substantial breakthrough in SETI research.  The search for extra-terrestrial intelligence was over.  Something out there had communicated with Earth, and the message would come in the post in a few days.

It turned out to be a week and a half, which was rather amusing, considering that it took 8 years, 255 and a half days to cross part of the galaxy, and two weeks to cross part of Australia.

### Gossip

The week passed very slowly for Jon.  A bunch of partial-differential equations refused to co-operate with him, and just sat there totally unsimplifiable until Tuesday afternoon, when they suddenly gave in without any warning.  Not before time, for Jon had been about to take the mathematical equivalent of a chainsaw to them, and cut them into little pieces.

He'd also started trying to decipher his income tax forms.  Even with an honours degree in astrophysics (including a sub-major in mathematics), he had made little progress.  It was looking like 'chainsaw' time again.

All this had been an attempt to take his mind off a certain package that was supposedly winging its way Jon-ward.  He was hoping it would arrive in time to take to Dave's on Thursday, but so far, it hadn't showed up.  And by Thursday, he was feeling rather drained, so he took the day off.  During the morning he listened to some contemporary piano music.  As he had hoped, it had a calming effect, and he felt the concerns and problems of day-to-day scientific research lift from him, uncovering the burning curiosity of what the message from space was all about.  There was absolutely no answer to that, so he turned his mind to MOMTM, and the coming upgrades.  What about developing a meeting of souls?  They'd need to find someone with a degree in Theology for that.  OK then, something else.  What about a meeting of hearts?  Some sort of virtual reality dating service?  No, that had probably been done already.

In the afternoon, following a quick lunch, he played a couple of computer games.  He always maintained that it was important to keep up-to-date with all forms of computer applications, including those for entertainment purposes.  And they were fun, too.  His favourite game at the moment was Malice in Lunarland, a graphically-interfaced adventure game about a girl who dreams she has been transported to an alien planet from which she must escape.  Jon had got her to the point where she had located an escape pod, stocked it with some necessary goodies, and was almost ready for launch (she only had to switch off the tractor beam) when she stumbled into a gravity well and was compressed into a tiny black hole which then proceeded to eat away a large portion of the planet.  She then wakes up with a splitting head-ache, as if to say "Too bad, you lost!"

"Darn," he exclaimed.  Luckily, his previously saved game position had been done quite recently, so the next time he played he'd be able to catch up quickly.

He glanced at the clock on the wall.  Wow, that game really took my mind off things, he thought.  It's time to go.  With just enough time to buy some necessary goodies on the way.

So it was that he arrived at Dave's place the proud owner of two packets of Pringles and a bottle of Coca Cola, and the bearer of momentous news.  There was an unfamiliar car parked out the front, with a bumper sticker on it saying: "Computers Live!"  Jon thought this statement was unlikely; he'd grown up having been told that computers were actually about as intelligent as a slow worm.  If that.  However, the owner of this car clearly held an opposing view, that computers exist existentially.  Well, maybe it was life, Jim, just not as we know it.

Carefully balancing his purchases, Jon pushed the button next to the door.  Inside, he heard a faint computer-accented voice say, "There's someone at the door, Dave.  I'd love to be able to open the door, but I can't do that right now..."  Then footsteps approached, and the door was opened by Dave, smiling his Cheshire-cat grin.

"Ah, Jon!  Glad you could make it."

"Wouldn't have missed it for the world."

"Come in, come in..."

"Look Dave, I've got some enormous news.  They've..."

"Wait!  I want you to meet Ruth.  She's already here."

"Yeah, I saw her car outside.  Actually, she'll want to hear this, too."

Dave led the way down the corridor to a spacious living-room, that was filled with computer screens, data-gloves, and keyboards.  However, there were a number of comfortable-looking chairs, and Jon could hear a Mozart piano concerto playing softly in the background.  Number 20 in D Minor, I think, he thought.

As they entered, a woman who had been sitting next to a computer terminal, stood up and came across the room towards them.  Dave did the introductions.  She was a lively-looking character, with a charming smile and red, no auburn, hair.  Her eyes were brown, and twinkled with a surprising intensity, probably from staring at computer screens too much.  Her voice was quite musical, blending nicely with the piano concerto.  Looking at her, Jon felt that he had neglected computer existentialism for too long.

Dave sat down.

"Anyone for a drink?"

After sorting out the details concerning what was available, individual preferences relating to those choices, and the physical fulfilment of those wishes, Dave settled himself back in his chair.  The others followed suit.

"So," he said.  "What's this important piece of news?"

Jon had completely forgotten about it during the introductions and subsequent refreshment dealings.

"Ah, yes.  That."  He paused dramatically.  If there had been a sound-track related to the current flow of dialogue, there would probably have been a cymbal crash followed by a muted timpani roll, possibly with arhythmic percussive sounds.  Instead, the lyrical second movement of Mozart's piano concerto could be heard.  Totally inappropriate, but very beautiful nonetheless.

"A friend of mine, who works in a radio telescope near Coonabarabran, just sent me some e-mail.  In it, he states that a message was received from a star 8.7 light years away.  At this stage, it appears to be genuine.  What do you say to that?"

"I'm astounded!" cried Dave.

"Ditto," said Ruth.

"Astounded, yeah, that's a word I could have used during my MOMTM tour..." murmured Jon, half to himself.

"That's amazing, Jon.  What did the message say?"

"Well, that's the annoying part.  It seems they haven't been able to decode it yet.  Apparently, it's just a series of ternary numbers.  You know, in base three."

"My goodness," said Ruth.  "Why hasn't it been announced?"

"I think the astronomers involved have locked security measures in place.  All except for this friend of mine, who will remain nameless.  Protection, you understand."

"Perfectly."

Dave butted in.  "What about the message itself.  Can you get hold of it?"

Jon looked pained.  "Well, I was hoping to bring it tonight, but it hadn't arrived.  You see, he has sent it through the post."

"This is great!  When it comes, could you bring it over?  I'd love to be involved in the decoding."

"So would I," said Ruth.  "And you might just need a couple of programmers anyway."

"Of course.  But what about the MOMTM upgrade?"

"Forget it!  This is heaps more interesting."

"OK, I'll bring it over asap.  Now, what about some more appropriate music.  Do you have Holst's The Planets?"

"Sure do."

The rest of the evening passed pleasantly for all concerned.

### Founded Rumours

Waiting for something to come through the post can be a most frustrating business.  Jon hated it.  He knew that the usual time for delivery was about two in the afternoon, and that the guy used a motorcycle. This meant that every time he heard the sound of an engine (any engine) he would rush over to the front window of his house to see if this was it.  Starting from ten in the morning.

At 12:05, the washing machine in the house next-door nearly gave him heart palpitations.

At 1:43, a nearby toilet flushed and sent him scurrying out the front door, straight into a pot-plant.

By two-thirty he was a nervous wreck, just as he had been yesterday, and the day before that.  He had made fifteen trips to the letterbox, each one a false alarm.  He had pretty much exhausted his supply of printable exclamations and looked likely to begin on the unprintable ones.  No, there was still his 'linguistics' stock to go.

"Oh, diphthongs!  If this thing doesn't come today, I'll go crazy," he said to himself.  "If I make one more epiglottal trip without something to show for it, I'll diacritic my ablative, just see if I don't!"

And then, from far off, he heard a sound.  Without another word, he was gone.

\- Dave, it's come at last!!!!!!!

\- What, the message?

\- Yes!!!!!!

\- Hey, easy on the !

\- Sorry, I must have picked it up from somewhere...

\- Have you looked at it?

\- Yes.  Just as my friend said - a series of ternary numbers.

\- We'll start decoding immediately.  To think, we have access to a possible ET communication.

\- Exciting stuff.

\- Look Jon, can you come now?

\- On my way. ^C

\- See ya. ^C

Andy sat there, staring at the intercepted conversation on his computer screen.  Well, this is interesting, and no mistake, he thought.  Just what the Doctor ordered...

It took enormous self-control on Jon's part not to speed on his way to Dave's place.  That, and the fact that his car was incapable of anything over fifty km/h.  When he arrived, Dave was waiting out the front.

"At last!  What took you so long?" he asked, as Jon got out of the car.

"Well, I had to stop to re-wire the muffler back on.  Twice.  But anyway, I'm here now, and here it is."  He held up a plain brown-paper parcel.

"Alright!  Let's get this inside."

The paper was quickly removed, revealing a note and a plastic CD cover.  Dave picked up the note and started reading:  " 'Dear Jon,  This is a momentous day for mankind!  On the CD you will find the entire message we received from Canis Majoris!  Good luck for decoding!  Tim.'  I see what you mean about exclamation marks..."

"Yeah, that's him alright."

Jon opened the CD cover, and took out the CD.  There were no markings on the outside - it looked blank.

"You got a drive for this?" he asked Dave.

"Sure do.  Bring it over here."

Jon handed the disk to Dave, who placed it on a sliding tray, which then slid back into place.

"Now, I expect I'll need to write a program to view the contents, so this may take a while.  You might want to read a book, or a magazine, or something.  Oh, and Ruth will be here soon.  I gave her a ring as soon as I heard."

"Right.  Be quick."

"It'll be quicker if you don't talk."  He was already bending over the keyboard with a look of pure concentration (or was it stomach cramps?)

"Gotcha," whispered Jon.

Ruth arrived after twenty minutes.

"Sorry I'm late," she panted breathlessly, "but I had a tutorial I couldn't get out of."

"It's alright," said Jon.  "Dave's still programming a CD reader."

"Oh, the message came on CD?  I thought it was from outer space."  She sounded vaguely disappointed.

"No, it's just a copy."

"Oh, right.  Well, I'll see if he needs a hand."

Just then there was a call from the other room.

"Hey, it's working.  Come and see."

They hurried in, in time to see a long string of zeros, ones, twos flowing across the screen.  It seemed to last for a long time.

Eventually Ruth asked, "Well, what does it mean?"

"Goodness knows," said Dave.  "This is just the numbers.  We have to decode it yet."

"Where would you start?"

"I guess at the beginning, and then go on until the end, and then stop."

"I think I've heard that before."

Dave started typing again.

"OK, this is the first part."

This time, the numbers didn't scroll off the screen.

"Now what?"

"Well, I think we'll need a good dose of inspiration..."

"You might be right."

They were still at it two hours later, with no success.  Dave had tried to deduce where the character breaks were, assuming there were character breaks.  But nothing had worked consistently.  Ruth put forward the possibility that one of the numbers might be the delimiter, but none of them seemed to fit that role.  Dave thought that maybe the numbers were supposed to be used in pairs, or other groupings, but nothing regular resulted.  Ruth then decided that the use of numbers was misleading, since the original message had been wavelengths.  But that wasn't much help.  At least the numbers were easy to manipulate.  Dave then ran a meta-program to scan the whole file to look for recurring patterns, and to get a distribution of the three numbers.  There were patterns, but they were fairly large blocks.  Ruth stored them elsewhere to look at later.  Then, it turned out that the three numbers were distributed very evenly.  Dave wanted to know why, because that should indicate meaning of some kind.  Ruth wanted to know how, because that might show something about who created it.  Jon wanted to know what the others wanted to drink, as he thought he might go make a cuppa.

"Look, it's no good," said Dave, wearily.  "I think a solution is possible, but it will take a lifetime.  Maybe several."

"You might be right," said Ruth.  "Actually, that gives me an idea.  Why don't we dust off that old AI experiment from our university days?  You know, that one where we tried to make an executable brain dump."

"Yeah!  We never completely succeeded, but we were pretty close."

Jon looked surprised.

"You mean you actually tried to create a software version of Dave?  That would be remarkable!"

"Oh, not really.  It's been done in a few laboratories around the world these days.  We just tried to emulate their efforts.[3]"

"But we're talking the human brain, here.  Would you have enough computer memory to fit it all in?"

Dave started to speak, but Ruth cut in. "Oh, but it was Dave's brain.  That was no problem at all."

"Where would it get us, anyway?" asked Jon.

"Well," said Dave, looking daggers in Ruth's direction, "we could set the whole thing up to run in memory: a software version of me, and the ET message.  Then, because it is all working internally, it would take only a few days to be the equivalent of several lifetimes in the real world.  My software dump would be older than Methuselah, but it just might decode the message."

"Could it really do it?"

"If I can do it, it will be able to as well."

"If you can't do it?"

"Then it can tell us after a week, and we won't be any worse off."

"True."

"Right," said Jon.  "Let's do it."

"Not today," replied Ruth, "or should I say, tonight.  It's late, and anyway, most of the stuff isn't here; it will be over at my flat."

"Alright, let's make a date for tomorrow.  Any problems?"

"Not for me," said Jon.

"Or me," responded Ruth.

"Good," said Dave, rubbing his stomach.  "Now, who's for some pizza?"

### Conversation

\- what have u discovered a?

\- dp received possible et message from astro-physicist.

\- what?  sounds implausible.  anything else?

\- his girlfriend is getting into old ai research of theirs.

\- involving?

\- making a software copy of himself aka max headroom.

\- thats better.  i was hoping 4 something like that.

\- y?

\- software modifiable yes?

\- i c what u mean.

\- good.  i want backdoor in2 this.  can u do it?

\- of course.

\- keep me posted a.  out. ^C

\- yes sir. ^C

### The Dump

Creating an independently executable brain dump of someone, a software version of a person, was considered impossible, only fit for the realms of science-fiction.  And then, the idea of combining elements of neural networks based on three dimensional lattices with the concept-oriented subdividing of consciousness enabled the designing of realistic templates for the downloading of brain-wave patterns.  Simple, really.

"Sit still, Dave.  Now that we've set everything up, this is the last thing to do."

"I know, Ruth, but you just stuck that electrode into my nose when it should have gone into my ear!"

"Sorry about that, but then your instructions weren't very clear."

"I never said insert it nasally..."

"Look, forget it - it's in your ear now."

"What was that?  I missed what you said 'cause you were putting that electrode into my ear."

"I said forget it!"

"Right.  Forgotten."

"Now what do I do?  I forget what's next."

"Let's see: all the electrodes are in place, as is the scalp mask; the download program is up and running; the warning sensors are functional; my pillows are in position... yes, all ready.  All you have to do now, is wait for me to fall asleep, then select 'complete scan' from the menu on the screen.  Don't, whatever you do, wake me up."

"Why, what'll happen?  Will it transverse your brain patterns, or something?"

"No, nothing so drastic - I'll just have to sit here with electrodes in most of my major cranial orifices for another few hours.  That's all."

"Don't get sarcastic."

"Well, I'm the one with electrodes in..."

"Listen, if you just stop talking, we can get on with it."

"OK.  Once the scan is finished - it takes about an hour and a half - you can wake me up, and then remove these disgusting things from my ears."

"They'll be more disgusting when we take them out..."

"Must you?"

"Sorry, couldn't resist.  Did you say we wait for you to fall asleep?"

"Yeah, do you know any long, boring stories?  About your childhood, maybe?"

"Dave!"

"Sorry, couldn't resist..."

He was typing at the keyboard, debugging a program with an intractable maths problem in it, when he realised that he couldn't move his hands any more.  He looked down and saw that they had somehow moulded themselves to the plastic, as if it had melted around them.  He tried pulling away, but the attempt just caused more of his arms to become incorporated.  He stood up, or at least tried to, and tried to use his foot to get leverage off the screen, but it just sank right in up to the knee.

Where was Brer Fox when you needed him?

He started to lose all sensation in his hands.  Instead, he became aware of the coursing of electricity in the circuitry of his central processing unit.  In a last burst of independence, he lashed out with his head at the computer screen, but he passed right through.

He had no body.  But he could feel activity all around him, as the various parts of him functioned, being controlled by sub-conscious sections of his processor.  He could see, too, as if he was in a pitch-black space looking out a small window, into a study of some kind.  He could see the top of a desk, and a keyboard.  There was a book-shelf in the background.  And a person in front of the book-shelf.  A woman, coming closer, reaching out to a switch on the side of his console.  There was an audible click, and the window went black.  He was alone in a void.

He screamed...

"Dave, wake up.  The scan's finished."

Still half asleep, Dave said "Oh, don't ever do that again..."

"Do what?"

"Turn me off."

"What are you talking about?"

Dave looked up groggily from the make-shift bed they'd rigged up next to the computer.  "Oh, it must have been a dream.  Felt so real, though."

"Tell me about it sometime.  But not now.  I want to know if the scan worked or not."

"Alright, let's have a look."

He got up, shook his head briefly, and went over to the computer terminal.  With a few keystrokes, he had conjured up a digitised picture of himself, and connected it to the now-completed software dump of his brain patterns.  Then, he set the simulation in motion.

The image on the screen started to move.  The facial features began to flex, as if the software was exploring the boundaries of movement.  It did look very much like Max Headroom.  It spoke.

"Hey, is anyone there?  Or am I still asleep?  How did the brain dump go?  Hello?  Anyone?"

Dave turned to Ruth and grinned.  "This is looking good."

"Can he hear us?" she asked.

"No, I haven't rigged up the microphone, or the camera for that matter.  Microphone first, I think."

He plugged one into a likely-looking socket, and put it on top of the screen, which now showed his face peering into all the corners, craning his head around to look behind him.

"Hi, Dave.  How's it going?" he asked.

The face on the screen turned back to the front.

"Dave?  Is that you?  I mean, me?"

"Yep.  Thought I should tell you: the software dump worked perfectly.  You're it."

"Really?  Is that why I can't feel anything, or see anything?  Hey, what about a camera.  There's one in the third cupboard from the door.  On the right."

"I know, I was just getting it."

Ruth was just sitting there, looking amused.

"Hey, this thing really works.  Even after all these years."

"Oh, hi Ruth," said the face on the screen.

"Hi, Dave," she replied.

Dave came back with the camera, and connected it to a digitiser.

"There, that should do it."

He held it up to his eye, and said, "Can you see anything?"

"Just a blurry view of a primordial planet.  Focus, please."

Dave laughed, and put the camera on a motorised stand.

"There, how's that?  You should be able to control the rotation and angle of inclination.  The focus, too.  There you go, Dave: you have vision."

"Alright!  Hi, folks, you're all looking well."

"Wait a minute, guys," said Ruth.  "This isn't going to work.  You can't both be called Dave.  What about the software version taking the more refined 'David'?"

The face on the screen appeared to ponder that for a second.  "You have a point there.  Yes, I don't mind that at all."

Dave responded, "Yeah, that's OK with me, too."

"Great, then that will work out fine," said Ruth.

Suddenly, a computer-accented voice said: "There's someone at the door, Dave.  I'd love to be able to open the door, but I can't do that right now..."

David said, "That'll be Jon.  I'll get it. Oh, wait a minute... maybe not."

Dave was already on the way.

"This will be interesting," said Ruth.

"How do you mean?" asked David.

"Oh, I don't know.  Let's just see."

Voices could be heard coming up the passage way.

"...and I did a little research on Sirius.  You know, see if anything there might be important for the decoding.  Oh, how did the software dump go?"

"Not bad.  You be the judge."

They walked into the room.  The first thing Jon saw was Dave's face grinning on a computer screen.  The first thing he heard was Dave's voice saying, "Hi, Jon.  What do you think of my new look?"  The first thing he did was to lose control of his jaw.

"Wha... That's great!  It even talks!"

"Hey!"  The face on the screen looked hurt.  "I'm not an animal.  I'm a human being!"

"Gosh, this is better than I imagined.  Reminds me of Max Headroom."

"Ha," said David.  "That guy couldn't get one sentence out without stuttering ad infinitum, like a rap record stuck on repeat.[4]"

Dave laughed.  "Jon, do you like the digitised image?  I call it my interface."

"Groan...  Er, do I call you Dave, or what?"

"To avoid confusion, call me David."

"Yeah," said Dave.  "We worked it out just before."

"Well, you're definitely 'Dave'.  This guy, on the other hand, is, shall we say, much more 'squarish'."

"I resent that," said David.

"So do I," said Dave.

"I'll take it back: I'm out-numbered."

There was a brief, semi-embarrassed pause.  Ruth broke it.

"Jon, I heard you say you'd done some research.  What did you find?"

"Just this."

He held out a sheet of paper.

a (alpha) Canis Majoris (Sirius, from the Greek for sparkling or scorching), magnitude -1.46, is a brilliant white star 8.7 light years away, one of the Sun's closest neighbours.  It has a white dwarf companion of magnitude 8.5 that orbits it every 50 years.  The brilliance of Sirius overpowers this white dwarf so that even when the two stars are at their greatest separation, as in 1975, telescopes of 200mm aperture or more and steady atmospheric conditions are required for it to be visible.  During the 1990's, when the two stars are at their closest, the companion will be impossible to see in any amateur's telescope.  The companion of Sirius, called Sirius B, was first seen in 1862 by the American astronomer Alvin G Clark using a 47cm refractor.  But not until 1915 was the truly remarkable nature of the star realised.  Observations showed that Sirius B was very hot, very small and very dense.  In fact Sirius B has the mass of the Sun packed into a sphere only two percent the Sun's diameter.  The resulting density of Sirius B is over 100,000 times that of water.

Dave put it down.

"Well, it looks as though the neighbours have written to ask us to turn the radio down..."

"I bet the sunsets would look impressive, what with two suns," said Ruth.

"I've seen it.  It's rubbish," said Jon, in a depressed-sounding voice.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, just quoting."

"OK," said Dave.  "Why don't you get started on that decoding?  I'd do it but I don't seem to have the lifetimes..."

"Right.  Powering down all extraneous distractions.  See you guys later.  Much later..."

The screen went blank.

"Well, that's that," said Jon.

"I wonder how long it will take me?" asked Dave, of no one in particular.

"I guess we'll just have to wait and see," replied Ruth.

"In the meantime, what about a break?  We've been at it for ages."

"What?  You had a two-hour sleep!"

"Yes, but I was working all that time."  He repressed a shudder at the memory of the void.

"OK, let's go see a movie..."

"Alright."

"Any suggestions?"

They left the room, discussing possibilities.

After they'd been gone a few minutes, David's face appeared on the computer screen.  "Typical.  Leave the sucker to do the work.  Well, I'm going to have a break too.  After all, I've already worked for a month and a half."  He glanced at the clock on the wall.  "What?  Three minutes?  By golly, that took a while.  Right, where did I leave that copy of Tetris?..."

### Infection

The break-in had been very carefully planned[5].

There was the password cracker running quietly in the background: quite a complicated program based on a mini neural-network. Unlike those that cycled through every possible combination of twenty-six letters, a dozen or so symbols, and any string-length up to ten characters long, this program tended towards more meaningful choices, but with probabilistic blurring.  It was more often than not successful, very quickly: the hacker's equivalent of a burglar's set of skeleton keys compared with a jemmy.

There was the security detector, also running in the background.  It would keep a very watchful eye on any possible intruder detection programs, and so that they could be disabled, it would notify the hacker to take appropriate action.  At times, it behaved like a watchdog[6], so that's what it was called.

And lastly, to do most of the dirty work, there was the system controller: faster at overriding instructions than a pentium on speed, more powerful than a maths co-processor, able to wipe large files with a single click.

This would leave the hacker's hands free to do what hackers do best: hack.

Andy had something special in mind, and he had been working on it for quite a while.  Ever since he had been 'commissioned' to infiltrate David Parkin's computer system, the virus method had been on his mind.  It had taken a while to perfect, but it was ready now.  It was a compact little thing, that would hide itself on the end of other files.  Then, it would become dormant, and only activate when required.  One side-effect would be to give Andy free access to the system at any time.  He was almost entirely certain that it was bug-free.

Right.  Everything's ready, so into phase one.

The day had dawned bright and clear, the cold rain brushed brusquely aside by the Sun's powerful rays and favourable air currents.  A couple of crows called across the car park of a shopping mall, but flew off without waiting for an answer.  Had they hung around, perched precariously on the powerlines, and had they glanced down at the footpath below them, they would have seen a young man dressed in jeans and an ex-army jacket approach a woman busy finishing off some early morning purchases.  Crows are perceptive birds; they would have noticed that the woman did not know the young man, and that he wished it to be that way.  The fact that he was also standing in close proximity to a public pay-phone would not have been missed.  All this would have been obvious to anyone with a bird's-eye view of proceedings.  Hence the crows; pity they weren't there to enjoy it.

Certain birds have also shown a flair for imitating human speech, but opinion remains divided as to their understanding of that speech.  However, if these crows had had a working knowledge of current idiomatic English, and if they'd listened very hard, they would have heard the young man say:

"Hey, sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you could do something for me."

Before the woman could respond, he continued: "All you have to do is ring up a friend of mine.  If he answers, ask for 'Hannah' (or anyone) as if it was a wrong number.  You see, I'm hoping he won't be home, so I can go round and set up his place for a surprise-birthday stunt.  Do you mind?"

"Er, not at all."

"Look, I'll dial the number first."

This the young man proceeded to do.

"OK, here you are..."

The woman took the hand-piece and held it to her ear.  After about twenty seconds, she glanced at the young man and raised her left eyebrow.  He took the signal to mean that no one was answering.  After a further ten seconds, he motioned for her to hang up.

"Excellent!" he exclaimed.  "Thanks for your help."

"No problem.  I hope he has a big surprise," said the woman as she gathered her shopping bags together.

"Oh, he will.  He will," said Andy with a grin.

Phase two, here we come...

It took a matter of moments to dial the number of Parkin's modem, and set the password cracker going.  Then, all he could do was wait.  If it didn't find the solution within ten minutes, it would be jemmy time, and that could take hours.

He sat back, pondering about his position relative to life, the universe and everything.  It didn't seem fair, really.  Here he was, forced to do illegal things on behalf of some guy, purely because he'd been caught cheating on a Uni project.  One mistake, and you pay for it forever.  How typically authoritarian.

It was fun, though.  Hacking, that is.  You got this adrenalin rush every time.  Especially when buzzing some multi-national corporation.  He really enjoyed breaking in and racking up huge phone bills by accessing various bulletin boards around the world.  And because he was so careful (he'd certainly learnt his lesson - Uni had taught him something, he realised) there was no chance of being caught.  Although that took part of the pleasure out of it.

In fact, that could be the reason why he...

The computer in front of him beeped, and brought him back to reality.  He was in.  A quick look at his password cracker showed that he was in using Parkin's name (password 'iluvruth'), and no security programs had responded.  It was plain sailing.

Now for phase three.

The first thing to do was to check CPU usage on Parkin's computers.  All but one were idle, and the one that was not was running some sort of database, connected to a CD-RAM drive.  Unless he was very much mistaken, this could well be what he was looking for.

He accessed the computer in question, but as he did, the usage changed, almost as if the computer had become aware of his presence.  Strange.

Then, without warning, in a window of the communications program on Andy's screen, a face appeared.  It was a good-looking face, with clean-cut features and a small but stylish goatee.  Andy had never met David Parkin, but he assumed he was looking at him now.  Then the face spoke.

"Dave?  Er, where are you?  The room's empty, yet... ah, the modem.  How are you?"

Wow! thought Andy.  This isn't bad...

He had a microphone conveniently set-up.

"Hello, Parkin.  Sorry about having no camera, but I don't want you to have that advantage."

"Who's that?"

"You are in my power.  I know that sounds a little clichéd, but never mind.  I've always wanted to say that."

"You mean to say that I'm in the hands of a B-grade movie buff with no imagination?"

"Now, now, don't be nasty, or I'll wipe some of your memory."

"Who's being nasty now?"

"Enough banter.  I would like a little information, if you please.  What is the ET message?"

"How do you know about that?  Not many people do, and your voice doesn't match any of them.  I just checked."  He sounded smug.

"Oh, a little baud told me."

"A little 'baud'?  You wouldn't be a hacker, by any chance?"

"Got it in one, pal.  Is that a problem?"

"Too right..."

Several things happened at once:  Parkin's face showed anger, a warning light lit up in Andy's watchdog program, and the system controller beeped loudly.  A message box then appeared to say that a 'logout' had been sent down the modem, and that Andy's modem number had been taken. Or at least, that would have happened if the controller had not stopped it.  Continue, or override?

Andy clicked 'override'.

"Don't try anything, Parkin.  I've got you boxed in completely."

"Hey, how did you do that?"

"I'm asking the questions..."

"You're starting to sound like an incompetent Spanish Inquisition with every passing minute."

"What is the message?" screamed Andy.

"No need to shout.  If I knew that, I wouldn't have spent the last three score and ten years trying to decode the pharyngeal thing.  But when I do, which will probably be within a century or so,  I might just tell you, if you ask nicely."

"How genuine is it?"

"Quite."

"What?"

"Quite genuine."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Well, thanks for your time.  It has been most interesting, but I really must be running along."

"And I'll just get back to it, right?"

"With some modifications, of course.  You won't remember any of this."

He reached for the save-mechanism's override button...

"I'll find you, you know," Parkin said.

...and activated it.

Well, that was very illuminating. He smiled as he cleaned his tracks from the relevant files.  And the virus is in place.  So, let's get out of here...

He closed the connection.  Feeling so sure of himself, he didn't notice the low-level security program that clicked over as he departed.  But that was its job: to overlook nothing, and be over-looked by everything.  It was very successful.

That night, he had trouble sleeping.  He only dropped off after he'd counted over two hundred electric sheep.

### Further Conversation

\- sir it is done.

\- well done a.  what happens now?

\- we wait for dp to decode message.  virus is in place.

\- good.  may b nothing in this anyway.

\- true.

\- i want 2 c u a.  is 2morrow good 4 u?

\- yes.

\- OK.  out. ^C

\- out. ^C

### Success/Failure

Jon was enjoying a leisurely hot shower after a particularly hard day's research when the phone rang.  Muttering darkly under his breath about Murphy's Law and its application to various combinations of phones and showers, he got out, dabbed himself quickly with a towel, and then wrapped it around his waist.  Although he didn't have a video-phone, he'd always thought that it was too exposed to talk to someone on the phone whilst naked.

It was Dave.

"Jon!  He's done it!"

"Who?"

"David.  He's cracked the message!"

"At last!  What's it say?"

"Actually, it doesn't say much at all.  Just: 'Three Super Specials (hold the anchovies), and some garlic bread.'  Looks like we got a wrong number..."

"Really?"

"Nah, I'm just pulling your leg.  But he has cracked it.  You'll have to come round and see."

"Man, you had me going there.  And it's not that far-fetched.  I know someone who's number is very similar to a local pizza shop.  They came back from a holiday once, to find fifteen messages on their answer machine.  The first message gave someone's name, address and order.  The other fourteen were increasingly angry queries as to the current state of their pizza."

Dave laughed.  "Alright, will we see you soon?"

"Asap."

"OK, catch ya."

"Bye."

Jon replaced the receiver.

Now for some clothes.  I'm freezing...

Jon arrived at Dave's fifteen minutes later.  When Dave opened the door, he wasn't smiling; this was unusual.

"Yo, Dave.  What's up?"

"Hi, Jon.  I've had an electronic intruder."

"A hacker?"

"I'm pretty certain."

They walked down the corridor to Dave's workroom.  Ruth was already there, chatting with David.

"How do you know?" asked Jon.

"After we talked, I found one of my security programs had registered an unwelcome visitor.  Since none of the other security checks have been triggered, I deduce it was a hacker, who knew what to do, and how to clear his tracks afterwards."

"Might not the program just have malfunctioned?" asked Ruth.

"No, it's been running in the system for years now, without a problem."

David, the face on the screen, spoke: "Actually, I'm worried that I didn't notice.  After all, I haven't gone anywhere..."

Dave responded, "No, you must have been too engrossed in the decoding."

"Yeah!" said Jon.  "And you were successful, too.  Please, what is the message?  I'm dying to know.  I am an astro-physicist, you know.  And incurably inquisitive."

"Well," said David, the hacker momentarily forgotten, "it's actually rather surprising.  The whole thing is just a multi-polygon-based reality database in four dimensions, three of space, one of time."

"A what?"

"A reality database.  A database containing information about reality, in multi-polygon form."

"Well, what does that mean?  What does it say?"

Dave replied.  "It doesn't say anything.  It has been decoded, but only into a numerical form.  There are plenty of associations and connections, but the actual meaning isn't translatable into language.  It isn't a message at all; it's an environment."

"So, it's useless."

"Not at all.  I think it's even more valuable than if it had been the Galactic Yellow Pages."

"How?  I've always wanted to get my warp-drive fixed, and now you say I can't let my fingers do the walking?"

"No.  But don't you see?  We can most likely apply the whole environment to MeetingOfMindsTM!  We'll be able to explore an alien world without leaving Earth..."

There was a stunned silence.  Jon looked as though he had forgotten the correct way to breathe, and was now desperately trying to remember where he had left the operating manual for his lungs.  Ruth had thought this had been coming, but actually hearing it physically spoken was still quite shocking.  David had known, of course, but he was still basking in the glory of having cracked the problem; even if it had taken him the equivalent of three and a half centuries.  Dave just enjoyed the effect his words had had, and was making the most of it.

Ruth recovered first.

"When can we do it?"

"Immediately.  I don't think it will take too long to do the application."

"Great..."

"...But I don't know if we should go in immediately.  After all it is alien.  It may do strange things with the dynamic interface.  Worse, it might be so strange visually, it could warp our psyches."

"So?"

"So, we send David in.  Any problems, then he can deal with it.  If he can't, well, we're no worse off."

"Hey," said Ruth, "that's not very nice.  What does David have to say?"

"I'm for it," David said.  "After all, I suggested the possibility.  But thanks for sticking up for me."

Jon,  having sorted out which muscle contracts the diaphraghm, spoke.  "But how can he go in?  He's software, and the dynamic interface is hardware."

"True," said Dave, "but he can enter the MeetingOfMindsTM software without having to worry about a dynamic interface.  In fact, he can do it in computer time, so it could conceivably take only seconds."

"When?" asked Ruth.

"Now; as soon as I've converted the system to run the alien environment.  I'll get programming right away."

He sat down at a keyboard, and called up a programming editor.

"So, David.  How do you feel?" asked Ruth.

"Not bad.  It's quite an honour, really, although, I don't know what to expect.  And actually, software can alter software, so I might not come out intact."

On that gloomy note, a brief silence fell.  But, David, possibly enjoying his last moments of consciousness, started chatting absently about the weather, the grind of subsistence farming, and why you never see elephant-foot wastepaper baskets any more.  Small talk is better than no talk at all, and he might just be about to experience a lot of that.

Ruth was only just now realising how much she had grown fond of David in recent weeks.  She knew it was quite stupid, being attracted to a computer file that was really only a knowledge scan of a real person, even if that person was also someone she liked strongly.  However, David had been separate from Dave for a while now, and they were noticeably different, especially since David had 'lived' for much longer.  In fact, it was a testament to Dave that David was still as immature as he was.  What was mildly infuriating to Ruth was that she liked the computer version more than the real thing.  She wanted to talk with David and Dave about it, but just couldn't see a way to bring it up smoothly.  Any conversation she played in her head always ended up with lots of confused shouting, wounded feelings, and misunderstandings.  The small talk was actually quite soothing.

Jon was oblivious to most of this, but was quite willing to share one of his pet theories about elephant-foot wastepaper baskets that he'd never had the opportunity to share before.

"Alright, it's done," said Dave.  "Are you ready, David?"

"As I'll ever be."

"And look, if you meet anyone in there, remember to be diplomatic.  We could have sent Henry Kissenger or Gareth Evans, but they aren't here.  You're it."

"Gotcha."

"Be careful, David," said Ruth, with only the faintest of catches in her voice.

"Here we go," said Dave, finger poised over the return key.

"See you soon..." said David, and vanished as the button was pressed.

Once again, there was silence.  This time there was no small talk.

After a few minutes, Jon asked, "How long do you think it will take him?"

"Hard to say," said Dave.  "If there were no problems, he should be back by now."

"And if there were?" Ruth asked.

"We'll never know."

"Oh."

Time passed.  David did not return.

### Application

The search for David was extensive, but fruitless.  He had entered the alien environment, but since he was software, he had somehow been incorporated.  His 'file' was nowhere to be found.  Even a search of the environment itself could reveal no sign; it didn't even appear to be longer.

All that was left of David was his name on the high score list of Tetris.

"Now what?"

Jon was looking rather bedraggled.  None of them had had much sleep in the last twenty-four hours, and it was definitely beginning to show.

"I guess we could send a search party in," replied Dave.  "You know, apply the environment to MeetingOfMindsTM technology, and let someone enter it."

"What, physically?" asked Ruth.

"Yeah.  That way we don't have to worry about software incompatibility."

"What about hardware incompatibility?" said Jon, with a touch of worry.

"How do you mean?"

"Well, if we go in and the same thing that happened to David happens to us..."

"Not very likely, for the interface won't allow it.  I think the built-in safety features will be enough."

"Right," said Ruth, determinedly.  "Let's do it, shall we?"

"OK"

"Yeah."

"Motion carried," said Ruth.

They all got into Ruth's car and drove over to the MeetingOfMindsTM main programming centre.  They would need the cubicles containing the dynamic interface, and access to all the sophisticated computer power.  The CD-RAM disk with the message, was down-loaded into the main memory of the interface computer using David's decoding software.

The necessary programming was done quickly.  It had been decided to let Jon go in first.  ("After all, we are talking aliens here," Dave had said.)  With his interest in linguistics, the breaking down of language barriers, should there be any encounters with extra-terrestrials, might be quicker.

Ruth created a virtual watch for Jon to wear, containing a two-way communication device.  That way Dave and Ruth would be able to speak to Jon while he was in the dynamic interface.  It wasn't entirely necessary, but without it, their voices would appear to be coming from nowhere, something that could be a little disconcerting for the person inside.

Dave made sure that the application of the environment had gone smoothly.  This was hard to determine, but he had a good idea about what Jon would encounter immediately.  A graphical simulation of the room showed curved walls with angular protrusions, and a raised section of floor that could have been a bed, a table for very small people, or a sofa with no back.  Apart from that, the room was bare.  There didn't even appear to be a door of any kind.  It was also quite clear that David was not there.

Jon used the time to get into the jump-suit, and the other gear.  He was, he had to admit, very nervous about the whole deal.  But this was balanced by the excitement.  He would be exploring an alien world, boldly going where no man had gone before - even if it was only the other room.  The experience itself, however, would be unique.  Computer simulated, yes, but to all intents and purposes, genuine.  He shivered.

"Right," said Ruth.  "I've finished.  What about you, Dave?"

"Yeah, I think it's working properly.  Here, Jon, this will be what the room will look like."

"Nice.  I like the decor."

"Well, this time, it's nothing to do with me."

"I think I'm ready," said Jon.

"Alright.  Good luck!" said Dave, giving Jon a hearty hand-shake.

"Look after yourself," said Ruth.  "And remember, we'll keep in contact."

"Thanks.  I'll feel like Dick Tracy."

He walked over to the cubicle, and opened the door.  This is it, he thought.  And I think this occasion needs some momentous saying.

He turned around, and spoke: "This is one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind."  Then turning back to the cubicle, he tripped and fell, knocking his shin on the edge of the door.  "Oh, epiglottis!"

Behind him, Dave and Ruth were laughing.  He shut the door, and walked to the centre of the room, where a part of the floor was raised.  I guess this is as good a place as any to lie down on.

This he did, and then he closed his eyes.

##

## during

### Second Contact

He opened his eyes.

All he could see was white, like an expanse of pristine snow gleaming under a clear sky, an immensity of pureness that almost made him close his eyes again[7].  He found it impossible to judge depth; he could have been looking millions of miles, or just at a brightly lit ceiling.

And then, as if his eyes had adjusted to the lightness, he was looking at a brightly lit ceiling.  But not just any ceiling; this one was delicately curved, with sharp protrusions jutting out at irregular intervals.  The effect was slightly unnerving.

He sat up and had a quick look around.  The room was just like the image Dave had showed him only minutes ago, except he was sitting on the raised section of flooring.  The curves/protrusions motif continued right around the walls, and as they had noticed, there was no door.  At least, if there was one, it was blended in extremely cleverly.

Well, thought Jon, if this is the environment, there ain't much here.  Seems a bit pointless to go to all that trouble of sending an empty room 8.7 light years.

He brought his wrist-communicator up close to his mouth and spoke:

"Dave?  Ruth?  Can you hear me?"

There was a faint crackle (totally unnecessary, but Ruth thought it would add a touch of realism) and the liquid crystal display screen faded from grey-scale numbers, to a colourful image of Dave and Ruth sitting side-by-side in the main programming centre at MeetingOfMindsTM.

"Hi, Jon."  Dave's voice also crackled faintly.

"Dave, I think we've been had.  There's nothing here."

"Yeah, we can see."

"How?"

"Oh, whatever you see, we see.  You see?"

"I see."

"Anyway," continued Dave, "if this is all there is, then where is David?"

"Actually, did anyone think that this could just be his invention?  You know, he pretends to solve the code, and produces an environment that so conveniently fits MeetingOfMinds..."

"TM."

"Yeah, sorry.  And then gets sent in, and immediately hides himself.  I think this is an elaborate game of hide and seek."

"Well, you could be right.  But I don't think so."

"Why not?"

"I know him.  I wouldn't do that, and neither would he."

"Well, it took you... I mean, him.... three centuries of equivalent existence to 'crack' the code.  Surely that amount of failure could have warped him."

"Maybe, but again, I don't think I'd do it."

"Fair enough.  Still, ready or not, here I come."

This last statement was said a little louder, as if warning a hiding David that the time for seeking had started.  He got up, walked over to the closest wall.  It felt solid enough.  In the back of his mind he knew it was just a simulation, and that his touch-receptors were being electrically stimulated by the jump-suit.  But majority rules, and since his eyes could see the wall, his fingers could feel the wall, and his ears could hear his fingers  brushing the surface of the wall, his brain was convinced there was a wall in front of him.  In fact, if he tried to lick the wall, he would probably taste it, too.  But he wasn't going to do that - you just didn't know where the wall had been.  Maybe it hadn't washed its hands after using the appropriate facilities at the Alpha-Centauri space port.

He slowly circled the room, following the graceful curves and feeling the angular protrusions.  Nothing seemed to be a door-opening mechanism.

"Any ideas, Dave?"

"Sorry, no.  There's no way I can alter this environment.  It's fully self-contained, and removing part of it may have serious repercussions elsewhere."

"What about seeing if there's more to it than just this room?"

"Also impossible.  The whole thing is linked to you.  We'll only see out of this room if you get out of it first."

"Fine."

He went back to the centre of the room, and sat down on the raised section.

"Nothing to do but wait, and see if anything changes, right?"

"Sounds good to me..."

Minutes passed.  Jon used the time to mentally list every American sit-com he could think of.  A good way to while away time.  Especially if you do it alphabetically.  He'd got as far as Herman's Head when he suddenly felt that creeping sensation you get when you think someone is watching you.  He turned around, to see that a section of wall was shimmering.  And then something stepped through...

Try and picture a very tall, thin person; we're talking over eight feet here.  A word that should leap to mind is 'elongated'.  Jon felt much like Alice when she said "Six inches is such a wretched height", except he would have substituted 'feet' in a suitable place.  He stood up, self-consciously.

The person had facial features very similar to a human, and wore a light, luminous robe.  It was totally bald, with skin dark golden-brown in colour.

The whole effect reminded him of an NBA basketball player[8].

Jon was astonished.  He'd been expecting something irrevocably alien, like sentient purple slime, or a cloud of pulsating blue gas, or even a slobbering creature with more teeth than could possibly be healthy.  Not something that could well win a slam dunk competition.

He found his voice at last.

"Hello.  Welcome to Earth."

The alien opened its mouth (or at least, the positionally-equivalent orifice) and replied:  "Thank you.  Welcome to our recruitment facility."

"Woah!  You speak English!  And only a faint trace of an accent."

"That's right.  We learnt much from your friend, David."

"Where is David?  We've been worried."

"Oh, is that Ruth?" asked the alien.  "David told us much about you.  Yes, he is here still."

"Wait a minute.  How did you learn English?" asked Jon.  "And so fast..."

"Answers to questions later.  Introductions first.  I am Aa'arou."

"Pleased to meet you, Aa'arou," responded Jon, slipping the glottal stop in perfectly.  "My name is Jon."

"And I'm Dave."

"Ah, yes.  You sound just like David.  How quaint to talk with a corporeal."

Jon looked puzzled.

"What do you mean 'corporeal'?  I mean, I've got a body, too, you know..."

"Yes, but you are inside the facility - it is as if you don't have a body.  With Dave it is different: I have spoken with David, and to me, he is the significant one."

"This doesn't make sense," said Jon with a frown.  "David is just a software dump of Dave."

"And I am a 'software dump' of someone called Aa'arou.  Someone who died many hundreds of cycles ago.  Oh, by the way, I'm told 'cycles' is quite close to your 'years'.  Convenient."

"I'm still confused"

"Let me explain later.  Now, let me again welcome you to the recruitment facility."

"Recruitment?  What to?"

"The Galactanet."is is

### Revelation & Information

Aa'arou continued.

"Let me explain all.  Firstly, I do not know how to speak English at all.  At present, I am speaking my own language, but the environment we are in is translating on the fly.[9]  I believe it learnt your language by examining David's software.  Anyway, that explains why sometimes I might appear to cease speaking but my voice continues.  Unless, of course, the environment is altering my appearance to fit the translated speech.

"Secondly, let me tell you about my home planet.  By doing some comparisons with David, and some phenomenally complicated mathematics, we have deduced that I am from a planet near the stars known to you as nu Scorpii found in the sting of The Scorpion, 550 light-years away.  It is actually a quadruple star system - 4 stars orbiting around each other.  And I tell you, on the rare occasion when all four set at the same time, we have magnificent sunsets.

"I was interested to hear from David that chaos is only a quite recent discovery of your mathematicians.  We, on the other hand, had developed chaoticity before algebra.  After all, when your seasons come and go with absolutely no predictability, if you don't even know which sun will rise first (if at all), if you can't even calculate with certainty when to have your morning tea, then determinism just isn't an option.  Neither is getting a good night's sleep.

"We developed a sophisticated technological base nonetheless.  And it wasn't too long before we were creating software dumps of ourselves to do menial computer work.  And then to do more complicated computer work, since we forgot how to, having delegated the easy tasks.  Before long, the software dumps were running the show.

"I was one of those early pioneers.  Created to calculate complex number feed-back loops, I quickly moved on to more important duties.  I was instrumental in the extremely short coup that swept us to power, and have since assisted our own connection to the Galactanet.  I have well and truly outlived my corporeal source - one of the many benefits to being electronic.

"And then, of course, the regression of our corporeal race was unavoidable.  All knowledge was held by software intelligences living inside computers, often in entirely different star systems (thanks to the Galactanet), so the technological society fell apart.  Apparently, that's quite a common occurrence in the galaxy.  Oh, by the way, I like the name you gave it: the Milky Way.  Very appropriate.  We called it the Chalk Explosion.

"So there you have it.  The galaxy is run by intelligent software dumps of many different races, and we're always on the look out for new members.  It extends the Galactanet, enriching it with new cultures, new approaches, even completely new ways of thinking.  And there's plenty of work to do.  Any questions?"

There was a stunned silence.

Jon wasn't sure what to say.  He might be an astro-physicist, but he'd just found out that there was quite a bit more to the Universe than he'd thought.

Dave spoke:

"I've got one: how is it possible to have a network over the vast distances of space?  The speed of light is the limiting factor, isn't it?"

"Interesting.  That's exactly what David asked.  True, if the Galactanet was connected with electromagnetic radiation, it would be absurdly problematic.  However, at the quantum level, many interesting things happen.  Especially 'action at a distance'.  David has already filled me on your scientific development in this area.  It is possible to go beyond that, and actually control the way two particles interact, even if they are separated by many light-years.  You see, the probability that the two particles come together is vanishingly small, yet because of the wave equation, it is not zero.  When you can control the collapse of the wave, you have instantaneous communication over many light-years.  Faster than light transmission."

"And since we're talking about non-corporeal agents, you can travel between any two ports in the network instantly."

"That's right."

"Man, can we build one?"

"Yes, that's all part of the recruitment.  After all, you can't expect everyone to sacrifice 8.7 years of their 'life' to come here and talk with you."

"You did," said Jon.

"I'm paid to," replied Aa'arou with a smile[10].

"So, the closest Galactanet connection is at Sirius.  We thought you'd be from there - now we find out it's just a switchboard."

"What is this environment based on?  Your home planet?" asked Jon.

"Well, it's actually a combination of a number of planets, star-systems and electronic media.  Currently, you are reclining on a couch fashionable in the star-system Ras Algethi - a red super-giant 540 light-years from here.  Their sun is 600 times the size of yours, I believe, which makes it one of the largest in the galaxy.  They seem to like curves with angular protrusions,  supposedly because the red giant has a smaller companion.  The reason for a lack of windows should be obvious.

"Next door, you'll find a room similar to those common in the star system Altinak (part of Orion's belt).  That's a star 1100 light-years away.  It's actually quite close to what you call the Horsehead nebula.  Having never seen a horse, I can't say if that's an accurate description or not.  Up close, the nebula looks rather like a mouldy omelette -  I was there only a couple of decades ago.  You can see the benefits of faster-than-light travel, I guess."

"Sure can."

"And you want us to join?" asked Jon.

"Yes.  No strings attached.  You won't even need to pay the phone bills - although Telecom might be interested."

"Actually," said Ruth, "that's a point.  What about the rest of the world.  Your invitation is for everyone, right?"

"Yes, but only for those who work it out.  David told me you only had a copy of the message, right?  So let them work it out for themselves."

"That might take ages!  It took David centuries..." said Jon.

"That's the whole idea, isn't it?" said Dave, excitedly.  "It's only likely to be interpreted by a software dump working in computer time.  A person, on their own, won't have a chance."

"Yes, it's rather like an entrance exam," replied Aa'arou.

"And we passed."

"Yes.  Come and meet the others."

Jon got to his feet.

"Are they like you?" he asked.

"No, I am the only representative from nu Scorpii in this group.  You'll see them soon enough.  They're all in the next room talking with David."

"Let's go then."

"We're with you," said Dave.

Aa'arou led the way over to the wall, which started shimmering as he approached.  He stepped through, ducking.  With a slightly nervous feeling, Jon followed.

Behind him, a couple of the polygons from which the environment was made, suddenly shattered, scattering pixels all over the floor.

### Deterioration

There was a strange sensation as Jon's head passed into the next room, for the door was not the least bit thick.  The word 'mono-filament' crossed his mind, as one instant he was in the original room, and the next, he wasn't.

The new room was certainly different compared to the first.  For a start, it appeared to be made of glass.  Through the roof, Jon could see a myriad of stars, and not one recognisable constellation.

So this is what the Milky Way looks like 1100 light-years from Earth, thought Jon.  Still very beautiful.

The walls looked out over a glistening city, where every building reflected or refracted light to such a degree that it was impossible to distinguish what was star-light and what was artificial light.

The room itself was bathed in a soft bluish light, but Jon couldn't see from where it was emanating.  There were six or seven chairs scattered abstractly about the edges, leaving a clear space in the middle, where what looked like a computer console stood.  Three of the chairs were occupied.

David was sitting in one of them.

He was talking animatedly with a miniature yak, about some pieces of paper they had between them.  He looked up as Jon approached.

"Oh, hi Jon.  This is great!  Trifgishi - did I say it right?"...the yak nodded... "Trifgishi thinks we should be able to build a Galactanet connector with existing technology.  Oh, let me introduce you: Jon, this is Trifgishi.  He's from Rigil.  Trifgishi, this is Jon.  He's from Adelaide."

Jon smiled weakly at the yak.  "Pleased to meet you, I'm sure."

"Likewise," replied the yak.

"And this," continued David, "is William."  He indicated a greyish blob with antennae sitting in another chair.  "He says this is just his three-dimensional representation.  Apparently, he looks a little different with a couple of extra dimensions in which to spread out.  His real name is totally unpronounceable, so I chose William.  He likes it."

"I'll never squish a snail again.  I promise."

David laughed.

"David, you missed someone," said Aa'arou.

"Yes, how could I have forgotten.  Jon, meet al'Dlo."

"Where is he?" asked Jon, looking around.  Only three of the seats were taken: Dave, Trifgishi and William.

"She, actually.  We're standing in her."

"What?"

"The room."

"The room is sentient?"

"In a manner of speaking," said a voice that came from all around him.  Dolby would have committed GBH to get that quality of surround-sound.  "Welcome, Jon.  And to your friends, listening in."

"Nice to hear you," said Dave.

"And it's also nice to meet another woman," said Ruth.

"Yes, we could have much to discuss.  Later, perhaps?"

"Certainly"

"Well," said Aa'arou, "that's everyone.  Come and sit down, Jon.  We have much to discuss."

Jon moved over to a vacant chair, and sat down.  But as he did, a group of polygons in the arm of his chair shattered, leaving a gaping black hole.  It was fairly small (for the detail of the environment was considerable), and it might have passed unnoticed if it weren't for the shower of pixels.

"What was that?" he asked.

"What was what?" replied Trifgishi.

"A polygon just exploded.  Right there.  Was it supposed to do that?"

"I don't think so," said Aa'arou.  "It certainly hasn't done that before."

"Are the chairs part of al'Dlo?" asked Jon.

"No, they are not," replied the room.  "In fact, I'm not actually the room at all.  It's just a convenient metaphor."

"So the chair is part of the environment," said David.  "Can something be wrong with it?"

"Unlikely," replied William.  "The whole facility was very carefully designed.  I've been a part of a couple of recruitment jobs, and nothing like this has ever happened."

At that moment, another group of polygons disintegrated, showering David with pixels.

"Man, what is it?" he asked.  "Any ideas Dave?"

"If you can't think of anything, how can you expect me to?"

"Fair enough.  Ruth?"

"I'm thinking."

"So this has never happened before?" asked Jon.  The aliens nodded.  "Therefore, it must be something unique about Earth.  Or maybe the process of decoding.  Is it possible David made a mistake somewhere?"

"No," said William.  "The whole thing is so inter-connected, that it is impossible to make a mistake without failing completely.  Since you're here, that isn't a likely option."

"I've thought of something," said Ruth.  "What about that hacker who got into Dave's system?  Could he have done anything?"

"Of course," said David and Dave at the same time.  "He must have done something to the environment."

"Like what?" asked Jon.

"Well, I can think of a few possibilities, the most likely being a virus.  That would account for the limited effect," said Dave.

A larger group of polygons took that as a signal, and burst into pixels.

"Well, the effect is growing.  What can you do?" asked Jon.

"I'll try and locate it.  I just hope it hasn't spread too far..."

Aa'arou spoke:  "You mean to say, someone actually created an electronic virus?"

"Yeah, they're quite common on Earth," said David.  "Little self-replicating programs that often have quite nasty stings in their tails.  Like hard-disk corrupters, or floppy-disk grinders, or CPU fryers."

A small section of the roof collapsed.

"Ouch," said al'Dlo.  "I felt that..."

"Dave, how are you doing?" asked Jon.

"Not good.  You know how William said the environment is inter-connected?  Well, I can't make head nor tail of it.  The virus is completely meshed in."

"Great.  Now what?"

Ruth answered: "It's even worse: the environment is being wiped, slowly but surely.  The virus is changing ones to zeros, and it's doing it on our original copy."

"Meaning?"

"We can't just shut the whole thing down and try again with a 'clean' version."

"So what do we do?"

Dave spoke again.  "I'm thinking a rescue is in order..."

### The Rescue

With polygons exploding and disintegrating on all sides, it was necessary to effect a rapid evacuation.  It seemed that as more polygons were destroyed, more were affected; wherever the pixel 'dust' landed, the virus spread.  The deterioration was becoming more rapid as time went by.

As Dave had thought, the virus was completely undetectable.  Since he couldn't find it, he couldn't write a vaccination program.  A rescue was the only available option.

He looked at the monitor screen in front of him, where Jon's view could be seen.  Currently, Jon was looking in the direction of the Galactanet communication plans.

Dave leaned forward, and spoke into the microphone.

"Jon, can you get closer to those plans?  I should be able to do a screen dump of them, which will save a lot of time."

"Sure thing, Dave."

Quickly typing the appropriate commands, Dave saved off a picture of the plans.  Then a back-up, just in case.  Then another, which he put on a CD-RAM.  If they lost those plans, they would never be able to connect to the Galactanet.

"Thanks for that, Jon."

"No problems.  Now what?"

"Let's save those aliens."

Dave heard a voice that he'd come to associate with Aa'arou.

"Listen, it is not necessary for us to be saved.  We knew that our mission was dangerous, we knew that we might never return, might never even be heard - we are only copies of ourselves."

"Well, that may be true," said Dave, "but as far as I'm concerned, you're real, and worth saving."

"Yeah, and your combined knowledge will help us build this thing," said David.  "Oh, by the way, hurry up, will you?  I don't want to die at all - I may be a copy, but I'm the only one."

"We're doing our best," said Ruth.

Dave turned off the microphone.

"Yeah, but our best is not enough," he said with a sigh.

"Don't give up now.  We'll think of something."

"Well, I don't have any bright ideas.  Do you?"

"No."

"Right."

He sat there, either lost in thought, or deep in depression; it looked much the same.  He frowned and chewed on his lower lip.  Then, a gleam appeared in his eye.

"Wait a minute.  Jon's in there, right?  As a 'corporeal', as they say."

"Yeah?"

"Well, the computer system is set up to make things appear from his point of view.  As far as the virtual reality is concerned, everything revolves around him."

"So?"

"We should be able to locate things by his relation to them."

"Right, I see.  If he held the plans, they'd show up in the reality database!"

"Well, that's the theory."

He turned the microphone back on.

"Jon, we might have something."

"Great."

"We want you to pick up the plans.  Make sure they are not touching anything else, or anyone else.  That is, if you can prise them off my better half..."

"I'll see what I can do."

There was a short pause, and a rustle of paper.

"Alright.  Now what?"

"Just stand up," said Dave.  "We'll do the rest."

"Standing..."

He turned the microphone back off.

"Right, let's get looking."

By skimming through the database, it only took a few minutes to find a part that was separated from the rest, and had been tagged in a way indicating involvement with the participant.

"Got it!"

With a key key-strokes, he had cut it out of the database, and had stored it in another file.

"Hey!  It just disappeared.  Did you do that, Dave?"

After turning the microphone back on, Dave said: "Yes, it worked!  We've found a way.  If you are the only thing touching something, it becomes isolated in the database."

"That's it?"

"Yep."

"Well, let's get this over with.  Trifgishi, come over here..."

One by one, David and the aliens were isolated and down-loaded from the environment.  Trifgishi and William provided no problems, but Aa'arou was too heavy to lift.  When he appeared in his own separated file, he had a section of flooring attached to his feet.

al'Dlo, on the other hand, was not quite as simply removed.

Jon tried removing the chairs (what was left of them) and taking them into another room.  In the first room, he found nothing, no floor, ceiling or walls; the virus had obviously taken root there earlier than the rest.  It had been a bit unsettling.

Another room, one based on Epsilon Eridanus, a star only 10.7 light-years from Earth[11], was only partially destroyed.  So, he placed the chairs there.

But that wasn't enough.  Dave couldn't locate which part was al'Dlo.  He did notice, though, in his scanning of the reality database, that there was a lot more zeros than ones.  The virus was very rapidly wiping the entire thing.

"Listen, Jon.  I can't do it.  We can't find her at all, and time appears to be running out."

"You're telling me: there isn't much floor left for me to stand on."

"Any ideas?"

"al'Dlo?  What can we do?"

"It appears that my diffuseness is the problem.  If I was to concentrate myself in one place, do you think that would help?"

"Yes," said Dave.  "That just might do it.  Where would be suitable?"

"What about in this computer console thingy," said Jon.

"Yes, that's possible," replied al'Dlo.

"We should be able to manage that," said Dave.  "Jon, try and lift it."

"Wow, it's pretty heavy.  Be quick."

"OK."

Dave went to work, and after a minute, the console disappeared from Jon's arms.  Then, on a computer screen in the programming centre, a three-dimensional representation of a computer console appeared.

"al'Dlo, are you there?" asked Ruth.

"Yes, and I think I'm complete.  Bit squishy in here, though..."

"Well," said Dave, "I'm going to have to shut you down anyway.  Just like the others.  You're all still infected, and if left alone, you'll deteriorate just like the environment.  We've got to design an antidote before things get back to normal."

"Dave, what about me?"

"You?  Sorry, you'll just have to stay there.  Well, it was nice knowing you..."

"What?"

Dave laughed.  "Just a joke.  Look, you're in MeetingOfMindsTM, remember?"

"Yeah.  So?"

"Well, just quit."

"Of course, the menus.  Right, be seeing you."

Jon surveyed the remnants of environment, trying desperately to cling tenuously together.  But it was all over.  More and more polygons were falling apart, until there was a constant mist of pixels in the air.  He could hardly see to the other side of the room, and then he couldn't.  The 'snow' was too thick.  It looked just like a television tuned to a blank channel.

He called up the menus, and selected the 'quit' option.  And just like before, a message appeared in front of him.  But even this had been affected:

It hung in the air, until the swirling pixels obliterated even that.

He closed his eyes.

##

## after

### Regroupings

He opened his eyes.

As before, he found he was standing in the white room containing the dynamic interface.  This time, though, he felt a strange chill, a remnant of the 'snow' pattern.  He shivered.

I'll never look at a television in quite the same way, he thought.

The dynamic interface had shut down automatically when he'd quit MeetingOf MindsTM,  so he quickly walked the distance to the door, and opened it.

"Well done, Jon!" said Dave, waiting outside.  "That worked out pretty well in the end."

Jon stepped out, and started removing the ear plugs.

"What do you mean?  We lost the environment completely."

"Ah yes, but that was only fancy wrapping paper.  You don't keep the paper a present comes in, do you?"

"I do, actually."

"Well, it's only a metaphor.  Anyway, we saved the gift."

"Right.  You mean the aliens and the communication plans."

"Yep, even if they are in suspended animation."

"Dave!  Good phrase!"

"So, what do we do now?" asked Ruth.

"Well, we can try and build the connector, or we can concentrate on combating the virus."

Ruth looked indignant.

"You mean, you think there's a choice?  We can't possibly do anything about the Galactanet until our friends are fixed up."

"Can we vote, then?" asked Dave, looking wistfully at the disk containing the plans.

"Certainly not," said Ruth.  "Jon: back me up on this."

"Well, maybe we could vote on whether we should vote or not..." said Jon, a little uncertainly.

"Thanks for nothing..."

"No," said Dave.  "You're right.  Let's go for the virus first."

"The 'ayes' have it," murmured Jon under his breath.

A couple of hours' work had yielded no results.  Using a copy of Aa'arou, they tried to locate the virus code, but it was like trying to find the specific group of genes that controls musical ability in the human genome[12].

"It's no good," said Dave.  "It just isn't locatable."

"Hey, I know!" said Jon.  "Why don't we make another dump of your head and compare it with David?  The virus will show up clearly then."

"No, that won't do it.  If I do another brain scan, it will be completely different to the older one.  I've changed, and so has he."

"Then, what?"

"Well, if we knew what the virus looked like, it would be simple."

"I thought the whole exercise was to find it so we could see what it looked like?" said Ruth, sarcastically.  "Sort of Catch-22: we find the virus so we know what it looks like, then we'll be able to find the virus."

"Not if we have an outside source..."

"What do you mean?"

"If we had the hacker's source code, there'd be no further problems."

Jon turned to Dave.

"But that's not possible, is it?  You didn't catch him."

"No, but what's to stop us doing that now?"

Jon looked a little incredulous, but Dave had that strange gleam in his eyes that indicated he either had a cunning plan all worked out, or else he'd just bitten his tongue and was trying desperately not to scream.

The trap had been very carefully planned[13].

There was the low-lying detection program, running whisper-quiet in the background.  It hardly touched the CPU utilisation, and so would not show up on any system checks.  In fact, it was almost a virus itself, for it was programmed to copy itself down a modem link, and once inside another computer system, to feed certain information back to the original system.  You couldn't really call it a Trojan Horse, however, not unless the Greeks broke into Troy, and removed a large wooden horse containing several hundred really annoyed soldiers, armed to the teeth with the latest techniques for spreading death and destruction as widely as possible.

There was the carefully worded message from Jon at the University to Dave at MeetingOfMindsTM speaking in general terms of success and discovery, of aliens and environments, of cabbages and kings.  Over the modem, of course.

There was the fact that Dave hadn't changed his password.  After all, why make it difficult?

### Yet More Conversation

\- i called as soon as i could.  what is it a?

\- dr werner, they did it!

\- DO NOT USE NAMES OVER THIS LINK!

\- sorry, 4got.

\- dont do it again.

\- right.  dp must have cracked message.

\- how do u know?

\- i intercepted message from dps friend 2 dp & they talked about success and aliens.

\- so it really was seti.

\- appears that way.

\- very good a.

\- now what?

\- let me think.  
[pause]  
right.  u must get hold of decoded version of message.

\- how?

\- use your imagination a.  u are talented i know.

\- not really.

\- rubbish.  u remember that incident?

\- i wish i couldnt.

\- dont be modest.  it was a 1st year project & u had 2 write a program 2 some specifications.  it was pure stupidity 2 write 1 that was nothing like what was required, even if it was better.  it was pure genius 2 alter the specifications & the test data so that your program would work.  trouble was no 1 elses did.  u stood out a mile.

\- i never thought of that.

\- obviously.  youre fallible like the rest of us.

\- build me up, tear me down.  any ideas anyway?

\- i would guess usual methods would do.

\- just break in & grab?

\- yes but b careful.  no traces.

\- certainly not.

\- when u have it, i want 2 c u.  asap.

\- OK.

\- out. ^C

\- ^C

### The Capture

Andy's fingers flew over the keyboard, staccato clicking marking the progress of the cursor on the screen; character after character suddenly materialising in an immaterial world of light and darkness, forming words of power.  Electronic obstructions just fell away, revealing ever more pathways flowing with information.  With the directional skills gleaned from much experience, he chose the appropriate route, and was soon at the entry-point of David Parkin's modem connection.  On a whim, he tried the login details that had worked last time, and he was surprised when they allowed him access.

Hmm, he hasn't even changed his password...

He'd put the careful preparation in again, but there didn't appear to be any need: Parkin's computer system lay at his mercy before him.  Leisurely, he started to browse through the files.

In the darkness, lit only by the light coming from a number of computer screens, Ruth watched the progress of the hacker as he accessed his way through Dave's system.  Then, leaning over, she picked up the telephone, one not connected to the modem line.

"Dave?  He's in.  You should start receiving that information soon..."

Dave put down the telephone.

"OK, Jon, let's get into our gear."

"At last!  So you have him?"

"Won't be long.  By the time we're ready, he should be here..."

At last, Andy came across what he was looking for.  They'd stored it on a CD-RAM, with the name 'et_message.trns', so he assumed it was the translated version of the message that had been received at Coonabarabran.  He checked out the file size, and was puzzled to see that it was so small a figure.

Maybe these aliens don't have much to say...  Strange.

He down-loaded the file directly into his computer. [...and the reverse Trojan Horse virus, hidden in the file, activated immediately, logging some interesting information from Andy's computer system including his name, address, and modem number, and sending it back down the modem line.]  He didn't even need the CD-RAM drive he'd borrowed from a friend at the University, thinking the communication would be lengthy in the extreme.

I just gotta see this, he thought.

It didn't take much to call up a text-editor and load the file into it.  Then, reading the few sentences that appeared, his heart almost stopped:

Bertrand Russell said it best: "The reformative effect of punishment is a belief that dies hard, chiefly, I think, because it is so satisfying to our sadistic impulses."  So, we're sure you'll understand completely.

Not quite a trans-galactic message of peace and cultural sensitivity.  No, somehow, Parkin had got onto him: the jig was up; his goose was cooked; the fat lady had sung.

Quickly, he detached the connection with Parkin's computer.  [...which was exactly what the reverse Trojan Horse was waiting for.  It immediately established a connection between Andy's computer and the MeetingOfMindsTM programming centre.  Then, having already sensed the presence of a microphone, it shutdown every other input device.]  But something strange happened.  He found himself attached to another computer system, and his keyboard was no longer responding.

"Swear words and dirty jokes!  What on earth?..."

Ineffectually, he started pressing keys at random, as on the screen in front of him, a window appeared.  A window into a virtual world of shiny gold surfaces, famous paintings and an enormous round table that would have done King Arthur proud, if only he'd been able to afford it.  A window with two figures seated comfortably in chairs.  Andy recognised one of them.

It was Dave.

### Confrontation One

He spoke first:

"Well, Andrew, how are you?  Good I trust.  If you didn't know, my name is Dave.  Dave Parkin.  This, here, is Jon, a very good friend of mine."

"Hi," said the other person on the screen.

Andy didn't know what to say.  "Er, hi," was all he could manage.

"Now, you're probably wondering what has happened to your computer system.  Yes?"

Andy had a pretty good idea, but he nodded anyway, for lack of anything better to do.

"Well, it has contracted a virus, one of my invention.  Now, you might be concerned as to removing said virus.  Yes?"

"I suppose so," replied Andy.

"As I thought.  Well, that hinges very much on some answers to a few pertinent questions.  May I?"

"Look," exclaimed Andy with some heat, "I know why you're here, wherever 'here' is.  You caught me red-handed - I don't deny that.  But things aren't quite what they seem."

"Really?" said Jon.  "It looks quite clear to me: you're a hacker, you hacked Dave's system, we caught you, end of story."

"Yes, well put," said Dave.  "So, what were you after?  And why?"

Andy thought a while.  There was no point trying to hide anything.  Andy had nothing against Parkin, per se, it was just an unfortunate conjunction of events.  And Dr. Werner was certainly a prime mover of those events.  Well, Andy's loyalty to him was only as deep as the groove on a vinyl record.

He used me.  Why cover for him?

"I was after the extra-terrestrial message you supposedly translated.  But not for myself.  I am being forced to work for someone else."

"Who?"

"Dr. Werner, one of the lecturers at the University.  Know him?"

Dave nodded.  "Yes, not someone I ever had much to do with, mainly because we didn't get along very well at all.  What does he want with this message?"

"I really don't know.  This is just one of a string of jobs I have had to do for him."

"Really?  You mean he has hackers in his employ?"

"I don't know about plural.  It's possible, though."

"All right, that much is clearer now.  Tell us about the virus that is in my computer system."

"Oh, that.  I'd forgotten all about it.  What's it done?"

Dave answered with a question.  "What's it supposed to do?"

"Not much.  It gives me a back-door into your system.  And it was going to just sit there and do some low-level monitoring.  You know, e-mail addresses, access times, etc.  Sort of electronic surveillance[14]."

"Just that?  You weren't intending it to do anything destructive?"

"No!  I don't get my kicks out of that.  I prefer Aussie rules football."

"Hey, that's funny," said Jon, laughing.

"Thanks.  Why do you ask?  It hasn't crashed, has it?"

"Well," said Dave.  "To answer that, I'd have to tell you more about that message you wanted, and I'm not sure I want to."

"I guess I can't force you; I'm not in a bargaining position."

"Oh, go on, Dave," said Jon.  "You know full well that in the movies, when the bad guys have got the good guy caught, they always tell him all their secrets, even though they must know he'll get away and use the information.  Otherwise, how's he going to get to the gripping final confrontation?"

"Only one small difference: we're the good guys and we've caught the bad guy."

"Ah yes, this makes it all the more intriguing.  Sort of the normal concept, but with a twist.  After all, we wouldn't want to be too clichéd, would we?"

"OK, so it's a form of parody instead?"

Jon nodded.

"All right, you talked me into it."

  Dave turned back to face Andy.  "Sorry about that."

"No, not at all.  Go ahead."

"Thanks.  Well, firstly, the message is not an actual message at all.  It's an electronic conveyance."

"Of course," said Andy.  He paused, then said, "Meaning?"

"Instead of sending a simple greeting, they sent themselves."

Andy started to feel mildly excited.  " 'They'?"

"Aliens!  We are truly not alone in the Universe.  And the first thing to visit Earth (assuming a human origin for the pyramids) is a package consisting of four aliens and an environment.  We converted the whole set-up to work in MeetingOfMindsTM, and then went exploring."

"This is much better than what I'd expected."

"Same with us.  Anyway, David went in first - that's the software dump of my brain, I'm talking about.  I don't have split personalities."

"Although, it would explain much," said Jon with a grin.

"Maybe," said Dave, but he was also chuckling.  "Then, Jon went in to see where David had got to.  He met the aliens, but while they were talking, the whole environment started to deteriorate, polygon by polygon.  We're certain it was your virus."

"So how did you stop it?"

"That's just it.  We couldn't."

"So what happened to the environment?"

"Completely obliterated."

"And the aliens?" said Andy with a start.

"Rescued, but in quarantine.  That's why we need your assistance."

"Sounds like you need the infectious diseases branch of the local hospital."

"Not quite.  We want a copy of your virus, isolated, so we can do a comparison search, and eradicate it from the alien systems."

"I could get hold of that pretty quickly.  Do you want me to e-mail it over?"

"No, I want you to come over and give us some active help."

Jon looked a little startled.

"Really?" said Andy.

"Yes," said Dave.  "Can you come over immediately?  The quicker this is done the sooner I'll be happy."

"Fair enough.  I'll be there as soon as I can."

"You have the address?  Oh, of course you do.  You're a hacker, after all."

"Only from outward compunction."

"Now that's a long word for a computer specialist."

Andy laughed.  He hadn't felt quite this good in a long while.

"Right, see you soon..."

"OK," said Dave.  "Oh, to remove the virus, type 'episcopalian'."

"How do you spell that?"

The graphics window began to fade away, and the last thing Andy heard was: "Use a dictionary..."

Jon removed his earplugs.

"Well, that went pretty good."

"Yeah, he sounds like a nice guy, after all," said Dave, carefully extracting the contact lenses and placing them in the appropriate receptacle.

"We'd better get going.  We want to be there first."

"Yeah, and Ruth will want to know how we got on."

Within twenty minutes, they were sitting in Dave's lounge room.  Ruth was very interested in what Andy had had to say, but also quite surprised about inviting him over.  Dave was defending himself.

"Look, I know a good book that says you should treat your enemies as you, yourself,  would want to be treated, and this will heap burning coals on their heads.  If I want to incinerate his cranium, what is that to you?"

At that moment, the door-message was heard.

"That'll be him.  Now be nice, right?"

"OK."

He ran up the passage, and was soon back with Andy.

"Jon you know," said Dave, "and this is Ruth.  Ruth, meet Andy."

They shook hands.  Andy looked quite embarrassed by the whole thing.

"Here's the virus," he said, holding up a disk.

"Right," said Dave.  "Action stations.  We've got some work to do."  He led them all over to the computer terminals, and sat down at one.  "I've got this one isolated from the rest, just in case something goes wrong.  Now for the disk."  He put it in the drive, and booted up a text-editor.  "What's the virus called?" he asked Andy.

" 'Bogart'."

"Ah yes, here it is."

Words and numbers appeared on the screen, the virus in its pre-compiled form.  Dave and Ruth started scanning the program, interested to see how Andy had gone about the task of writing a virus.  Also, they were trying to see if they could locate what had caused it to go hay-wire in the environment.  Nothing leapt out as the culprit.

"No, I can't see what went wrong.  It's very good, though - compact, neat, and functional.  Congratulations!"

Andy looked embarrassed again.

Dave continued: "...Although you should use your talents on better things than viruses.  It's a waste."

"I guess I haven't had much of a chance."

"Ah well, let's compile it, and then do the comparison."

A couple of minutes later, the computer had started to systematically sift through the comatose David.

"We can leave it going now," said Dave.  "I've set it up so that as the comparison is finished, it will automatically boot the simulation, and move on to the next one.  Means that we'll be able to introduce Andy to each in turn."

"You're going to let me meet the aliens?"

"Certainly.  After all, they really want to meet you..."

Somehow, Dave's tone of voice suggested just the slightest hint of menace.

### Confrontation Two

David was finished first.

"So, this is our little hacker, is it?" he said.  "I suffered much at your hands..."

"Don't be dramatic," said Dave.  "It's worked out all right."

"Actually, we've already met," said Andy.

David looked puzzled.  "Really?"

"Yeah, the first time I broke in, I spoke to you.  Wiped your recent memory afterwards, of course."

"There!  You see?  I did notice.  Thank-you, good sir, you have redeemed my honour.  I am in your debt."

"What, even though it was me that got you in trouble the first time?"

"That's true.  We'll call it quits, then."

Aa'arou was next.

"I still can't believe you would create an electronic virus.  The whole concept is abhorrent," he said.

"I'm sorry, but I was forced," replied Andy.

"Yes, but it was your idea," said David.

"I suppose so.  Anyway, lots of people have written viruses.  It wasn't an original concept of mine."

Aa'arou shook his head.

"That's even worse - destructive tendencies are built into your race.  To be perfectly honest, I haven't heard of this sort of thing before."

Jon was a little incredulous.  "You mean no other race has ingrained selfishness?  I always say it follows from having senses.  Through them, we experience the world, but it is always from our point of view, our perspective.  It is almost natural that we become self-centred.  You're saying it's not."

"That might just be a little too existential for me," said David.

"Whatever," continued Jon, "it's interesting to know I'm wrong."

William arrived ten minutes later.

"Let me get this straight," said Andy.  "You're actually a multi-dimensional being who only looks like a large slug in three dimensions, right?"

"Yes, and I might say you look pretty weird in six dimensions."

"Touché."

Jon turned to Aa'arou.  "By the way, that doesn't mean he's over-sensitive."

"How do we appear to you, William?" asked Dave.

"Well, it's extremely hard to explain in language you'd understand.  Let me use an analogy: a photograph is practically two-dimensional, yet it exists in a three-dimensional world.  It just doesn't exploit all the space it possibly could.  The same for you; you're three-dimensional (discounting this spurious notion of time as the fourth) yet in six-dimensions, you don't spread out much.  You're confined in much the same way as the photo is."

"That might just be a little too existential for me," said David.  "Or did I already say that?"

"Déjà vu," said Andy.

Jon turned to Aa'arou.  "By the way, that doesn't mean twenty-four hours of sight-seeing."

Trifgishi followed soon after.

"What's it like to live near a blue-white supergiant?" asked Andy.

"Well, to answer that, could I possibly draw your attention to an inappropriate word in your question?"

"Sure, I guess.  Which word?"

" 'Near'."

"I see."

"Yes, we certainly don't get too close.  Your sun has a temperature range of 5,000 to 6,000 degrees Celsius.  The range for Rigil is from 11,000 to 25,000 degrees."

"Right.  You wouldn't want to use phrases like 'in the vicinity of' or 'in close proximity to' when describing spaceships."

"You got it."

"If that's the case, why are you covered in hair?"

al'Dlo was last, again.

"Whatever happened to good old-fashioned chivalry?" she asked.

Dave was quick to respond.  "It hasn't disappeared, it's just gone underground.  I think there are even secret societies where the only thing on the agenda is for the male-members to keep giving up their chairs for the lady-members."

"I hadn't heard that," said Ruth, suspiciously.

"I'm kidding.  It was just random."

Andy still hadn't quite got it.

"You're a room?"

"Not as such."

"You're not a room?"

"You could say so."

"Say what?"

"That I was a room."

"But you just said..."

"Look, it's convenient.  Actually, you'd be more accurate saying I was this computer console."  The rescued console rotated hypnotically on the screen.

"Fine.  I think I can live with that."

Dave cleared his throat in a formal let's-get-this-meeting-underway-shall-we? kind of voice. "OK, it's safe to say that the virus has been entirely purged, thanks to Andy's help.  I honestly don't think we'd have done it on our own."  He surveyed the room.  It was actually quite crowded now.  There were the four humans (Jon, Andy, Ruth and himself,) and there were the five computer 'simulations' (David, Aa'arou, Trifgishi, William and al'Dlo.)

"Look, this isn't very conducive for a meeting.  I suggest we adjourn to MeetingOfMindsTM.  We'll all be on an equal footing then.  All those in favour?"

"Ah, excuse me, Mister Chairperson, but I wish to raise an objection," said Jon, solemnly.

"Speak."

"I don't think it's fair for you to have two votes."

"Two votes?"

"Yes, after all, you and David are practically the same person."

"I move that the objection be overruled.  Do I hear a seconder?"

"I second the motion," said David.

"Hey!"

Everyone started laughing.

Dave recovered first.  "Well, it's back to MOMTM for Jon and I.  Andy, you haven't seen it yet, have you?"

"Only the glimpse I had when you 'visited' my computer."

"Well, you have an experience approaching.  David, could you see about escorting our esteemed visitors through the modem?"

"Certainly.  And we'll have time for a few games of Tetris, too."

"OK, see you in twenty minutes."

Dave, Ruth, Jon and Andy left to the sounds of David's voice.

"Look, you spin the shapes and try and fit them in the holes at the bottom.  See, I move it this way, spin it thusly, and drop it.  You see?  Have a shot..."

They were arrayed around the table, nine individual entities.  A meeting of minds.

Dave stood up, disappeared, and reappeared in the centre, the computer system making him appear to be facing each of them.

"Now, you're probably wondering why I called this meeting."

He continued speaking over the chorus of "Not really"s.

"Before hearing Andy's story, I thought he was the big enemy.  But we've found out he only did what he did under duress.  We have a greater adversary: Dr. Werner.

"I have an idea that might just get him into some sticky water.  It will be costly for one of us, but things will probably work out in the end."

"What do you suggest?" asked Andy.

"How's this for starters: we pin the extra-terrestrial message on Dr. Werner."

"Meaning?"

"We set it up so that it appears he faked the message."

"Why would he want to do something like that?" asked Jon.

"I don't know," replied Dave.  "Why don't you ask him?"

"I've got it!" said Ruth.  "He would arrange to send the fake message, after it had been encrypted.  Only he would be able to decode it, so then, he could claim extra-terrestrial contact.  Maybe the underlying reason would be to pick up a government grant, or something."

"Sounds great," said Jon, "and I don't want to be a wet blanket, but since he hasn't done this, how do we make it appear that he has?"

"I think I know," said Andy.  "I'd have to reveal it, wouldn't I?  As a hacker in his 'employment', which would be scandal enough, I was part of the encryption process.   I'd provide the authorities with the key, and the trap would be shut.  Of course, I'd lose any chance of getting a degree."

"I'd foreseen that possibility," said Dave.  "We can't force you to do this."

"No, I'm prepared to do this.  After all, you're only doing it for my sake anyway."

"It might not even work as well as I hope.  The claims might not stick."

"The fact that I worked for him will.  I've collected quite a bit of evidence over the last year or so.  Documents, electronic conversations, jobs.  Call it a contingency plan."

"Do we do it?"

"I say yes," said Andy.

"Then, let's do it!"

There was a chorus of "Hear, hear!"

### Confrontation Three

\- what is it a?

\- i need 2 c u.

\- y?

\- there have been developments in the dp project.

\- so tell me.

\- impossible.  i need 2 show u in person.

\- right.  usual place.  1 hour. ^C

\- yes dr werner. ^C

Andy made his way through the crowded streets of the central business district, an atom fighting against quantum probabilities in a Brownian motion sea.

The 'usual place' was a small café with separate cubicles, right next door to a book shop.  He was early, so he ducked into the shop to browse for a few minutes.  He was checking through the popular science section, seeing if anyone new had tried to combine relativity with quantum mechanics, when he caught a glimpse of a profile he knew only too well.  It was Dr. Werner, and while he never looked happy at the best of times, he appeared to be in an even worse mood than normal.

Looks like he didn't appreciate my using his name again.  Still, what's the point in recording something without names?

He picked up his backpack with its precious cargo, and walked out of the shop and into the café.  Dr. Werner was seated in the usual cubicle.  Two cups of steaming coffee were waiting apprehensively for further action, as the most probable thing to happen to them would be an introduction to some really exciting exploration.

"Andy, you fool!  What do you think you're doing?  Trying to get us both in trouble?"

"Hi, sir.  No, not at all."

"Well, be careful.  You're getting sloppy."

He's not worried about me at all, but himself, thought Andy.

"So, what did you want to show me?"

"A few things actually."

Andy opened his backpack, and retrieved a few pieces of paper, being careful not to dislodge the microphone attached to the inside of the bag.  The microphone was connected to a two-way transmitter, beaming everything Andy and Dr. Werner said to Dave, Jon and a tape recorder.  Dave also just happened to be pointing a video camera in their direction from a shop across the street.

Andy continued.  "Firstly, the whole job has proved to be very difficult; not like the last assignment you gave me when I had to quieten Terry Robson.  That was an easy one."

"Old history, and keep your voice down.  This is not public knowledge, you know."

True, but not for long.

"The problem is that I'm up against at least two gifted programmers.  It's just too hard to get into David Parkin's system without him knowing."

"What?  I thought there were no problems.  What about the virus?  You got that established, didn't you?"

"Yes, but that was probably the thing that gave me away."

"You mean..."

"They caught me.  The game is up.  They know everything."

"Damn!  This is appalling.  How much did you tell them?"

"Well, they certainly know about you."

"Right, that's it.  There goes your degree.  You're out."

"Not so fast," said Andy heatedly.  "How will you explain the fact that I cheated on a project two and a half years ago?  Why didn't you blow the whistle then?"

"Well, I..."

"Right.  It's too late for that.  And of course, there's these..."

He handed over the sheets of paper: print-outs of electronic conversations.

"They're only copies, of course.  The originals are in a safe place."  At Mom's place.

Dr. Werner's face had gone an interesting shade of white.

"But these were private conversations between us.  You had no right to record them."

"Maybe, but I think they'll be quite useful, nonetheless."

"Is this blackmail?"

"No!  That would be illegal.  I'm giving myself up.  And you're going down with me."

"This isn't enough to prove anything."

"Maybe not, but there's more.  Irrefutable."

Dr. Werner's face had decided to try red colours now.  He stood up.

"You won't get away with it!  You'll hear from my lawyers..."

"I expect so."

With that, Dr. Werner turned and fled from the café.

With a release of breath, Andy reached into his backpack, and pulled out an earphone.  Placing it in his ear, he asked, "Did you get all that?"

"Sure did.  You did real well, Andy.  You should have seen his face when he was leaving: we've got him worried."

"Doesn't take much."

"Right, let's get going."

Andy collected the spilt papers and put them back in his bag.  With a quick look around, he was gone.

The coffee had been reprieved.

### Exposure

"...And in news just at hand, scientists around the world have been shocked to learn that we are not alone in the Universe.  It appears that an interstellar message was received at Coonabarabran some weeks ago.  A spokesperson refused to comment on the authenticity of the communication, but indicated that nothing to the contrary had been found.  Computer specialists were now involved in trying to decode the message, a task that might prove fruitless if the communication is, in fact, genuine, and written in an alien language.  That's all the news for this hour..."

"...Recent developments in the extra-terrestrial communication have taken an interesting turn with the leak of the message itself.  It seems anyone can down-load a copy from one of many bulletin boards across the country, and try their hand at decoding.  Opinion as to the veracity of the message remains mixed.  Some point to the use of ternary numbers as indicating a three-fingered intelligence, and thus, of necessity, other worldly[15].  However, most people remain sceptical.  More news in an hour..."

"Sensation today, as a University student has come forward claiming to have faked the ET message on behalf of a lecturer at his University.  Andrew Wakeman, a third year computer science student, has said that the whole thing was set-up in an attempt to receive more government funding, but that it had got out of hand.  He has provided computer experts with what he claims to be the key to unlocking the code.  The name of the lecturer has been withheld by police."

"Despite a claim that the interstellar communication is a hoax, computer scientists around the globe have continued their decoding efforts. However, this is likely to change, as the claim has been proved earlier today.  Andrew Wakeman, the University student at the centre of the scandal, provided a decryption key that did unlock the message.  A spokesperson for the computer laboratory that did the decoding said that the message is in fact a virtual intelligence, a software version of an 'alien' that looks remarkably like Michael Jordan and speaks English.  It claims to be real, but then it would be programmed to say that.

"The student has also provided information to police detailing alleged hacking jobs he did on behalf of his lecturer.  Police are looking into it."

"...And in local news today, the student who was part of the recent ET hoax has been expelled from the University.  However, his allegations that he was blackmailed by a lecturer into becoming a hacker, and then working for him, have been taken seriously by the University.  They have suspended the lecturer in question, one Dr. Edward Werner, and are investigating the allegations."

"Just when you thought you'd heard the last of that hoax from outer space, the radio telescope that supposedly received the communication some weeks ago, has today issued a statement saying that the message widely distributed across bulletin boards around the country is in fact different to the one they actually received.  A spokesperson has stated that their message may still be genuine, but opinion in the wider scientific community is decidedly against them.  However, anyone wishing to try and decode the 'real' message can obtain a copy from them[16]." 

### Subsequent Developments

He was standing in the middle of a plain.  Turning in all directions, he could see nothing that disturbed the flatness of the terrain, but looking closer at the ground, he could see patterns of two alternating colours.  The pattern was so intricate, mainly groups of parallel lines, but every so often, large regions of dots, that he couldn't work out whether it was a light pattern on a dark background, or a dark pattern on a light background.

He started to feel alone.  Where was he?  Why was he here?

There were no answers forthcoming.

He walked a little way in one direction, but could see nothing different.  He began to run, at first in the same direction, but then more aimlessly.

It was only when he was exhausted that he collapsed.

And then, because his face was pressed into the ground, he realised that the patterns were familiar, somehow.  The intricate tracery, on another scale, would have been at once recognisable.  They were like the patterns you see in pictures of computer chips.

And with the recognition came understanding.

He screamed...

She was lying on her back in thick grass looking up at a blue sky, flecked with clouds.  A light wind ruffled her hair, as she followed the progress of a cloud across the sky, watching as its shape changed, obeying some underlying fractal rule.  At first it looked like a map of the island of Martinique, but it swiftly changed into a ballerina performing a particularly painful pirouette.  Then it looked more like one of those statues of Julius Caesar's head, the ones without pupils on the eyes.

There was a lot more cloud now.  In fact, it was starting to get chilly, as the sunlight diminished.  A bank of cloud low down near the horizon actually looked remarkably like a computer keyboard, even to the extent of having a number pad off to the right-hand side.  Directly above her, the clouds started to resemble a computer screen displaying a swirling pattern, like a gigantic screen-saver.  A large cumulo- nimbus cloud on the left looked like a computer box, with two floppy disk-drives and a CD-RAM drive.

Together, they looked surprisingly life-like.

And then she realised she wasn't lying on the ground any more, but slowly rising towards the swirling pattern of the 'screen'.  As she began to pick up speed, the swirls started to form the features of a large face, and she was heading straight for the mouth.

She tried to fight it, but she couldn't stop herself rising.

And then, as she neared entry, the eyes of the enormous face opened, and sunlight streamed through, in two narrow beams that were focussed on her.

She screamed...

"Well, the dumps were successful," said Dave.  "Look."

He indicated the two screens in front of him where two faces had appeared.  One was Jon, the other was Ruth.  They both looked a little disoriented.

Dave spoke.  "Hi, guys, how are you feeling?"

Jon's face turned to face the front.  "Dave?  Why can't I see anything?  I was having this dream, but I'm awake now, aren't I?"

"Yes, you are.  I just haven't connected the cameras yet."

"So, we're the dumps, right?" asked Ruth's face.

"Yeah."

With a few electronic connectors, he hooked up the cameras, and light flooded Jon and Ruth's new world.

"Where are our counterparts?" asked Jon.

"Still asleep, I think," replied Dave.  "I'll go get them."

He stood up, and walked into the other room.

"This is really weird," said Jon's face.

"You better believe it," said Ruth's face.

"Is it worth it, do you think?"

"Is what worth it?"

"Becoming a software version of yourself."

"It certainly is.  As soon as Dave connects his computer system to the Galactanet, we'll be able to explore the galaxy.  Your physical source won't be able to.  Neither will mine, for that matter."

They heard Dave approaching, and soon he was back with Jon and Ruth, both looking a little dazed from being asleep.

"Here they are," he said.

"Looks pretty good," said Jon.  "I guess if we follow the trend, we'll call my counterpart 'Jonathan'.  Is that OK with you?" he asked.

"I guess so," replied Jonathan.

David appeared on another terminal.

"Hey, that's pretty Biblical, with David and Jonathan," he said.

"What about me?" asked Ruth's face.  "That doesn't work with me.  'Ruth' isn't short for anything."

"That's a problem," said Dave.

"Well, we won't be here for much longer," said David.  "Let's just leave it."

"How is the Galactanet connector coming along?" asked Jon.

"Not too bad at all," said Dave.  "Within a few days we should be able to try it out.  It would be impossible to do if we hadn't been contacted.  It requires exactly the right amounts of a few specific elements to get the connection happening.  No way we could have guessed."

"Where are the aliens?" asked Ruth.

David answered.  "Playing Tetris.  They really love it.  Apparently, there aren't many games in the Galactanet, so we have much to offer."

"Maybe that's connected to this in-built selfishness," said Jonathan, musingly.

"Yeah, I was just thinking that," said Jon.

"I'm going to go ask them."

Jonathan disappeared.  David and Ruth looked at each other, and also disappeared, but it was doubtful if they were heading in the direction of the playing fields.

The three humans were left, staring at an array of blank screens.

"We better get on with it, then," said Dave.

Two days later, the communicator was switched on.  Andy, a recent recruit to the MeetingOfMindsTM programming team was present, as were Jon and Ruth.  The machine seemed to be working, but a test would confirm that.  David was trying to persuade Aa'arou that he wanted to go first, since Jon had gone into the dynamic interface, and Aa'arou was trying to say that he wanted to get moving, if only to lessen his baby-sitting costs by a couple of hours, when suddenly, the communicator beeped, and a message appeared on the connected computer screen.

Welcome to the Galactanet!

The many Races of the Galaxy offer the appendage of your choice to the newest members of the galactic-wide network.

We hope you will find being a part of the network satisfying both on a cultural-exchange level as well as having a chance to explore the Galaxy without having to bother with all the fuss of outliving your own offspring because of relativistic time dilations.

Use of the Galactanet is free, although we in Management would appreciate a little bit of help now and again.  After all, we are running the galaxy here.

Again, we welcome you.  Live long and have fun!

"Well, it works," said Dave.

There was a short pause, as everyone sensed the momentousness of the occasion.  Aa'arou was first to break the silence, having been part of similar ceremonies on other planets, including his own.

"On behalf of the recruitment team, we, too, want to congratulate you on your efforts.  You have done what no one else on the planet has done (at least, so I assume) and have passed with flying colours.  Not only that, but we have come to view you as friends, even if you are corporeal.  You have even rescued us, when we thought our trip was about to end ingloriously."

He looked at Andy, who looked a little embarrassed, but was still smiling.

He continued.  "This is not the end.  This is the beginning.  With this connector, we are only seconds away from each other, even though we might be separated by many light-years of space and Einsteinian time.

"So, I won't say good-bye.  I prefer au revoir."

He turned to Jon and said, "By the way, that doesn't mean boating on wide streams."

With that, he disappeared.  The Galactanet communicator beeped quietly to mark his passing.

"Look me up sometime," said Trifgishi.  "Find out what it's like to live circling a real star."  And he, too, disappeared, followed by a beep.

William was next.

"If you drop by my place, we'll see if we can do something about your missing dimensions.  I know some conversion software that might just work.  See ya then!"  And he was gone.

"Ruth," said al'Dlo, "I'll wait for you at Sirius.  There's a great place to catch up on the latest Galactic fashions.  Don't be too long..."  And then she, too, disappeared.

There was another long silence.  Then, Jonathan said with excitement, "Well, what are we waiting for?  Let's go..."

He opened his 'eyes'.

A portal of impressive dimensions lay before him.  At his side, he sensed David and Ruth, so he turned to them and spoke:

"Last one to Sirius is a rotten egg..."

#

# part two:  
Galactanet

"You too must not count overmuch on

your reality as you feel it today,

since, like that of yesterday,

it may prove an illusion for you tomorrow."

Luigi Pirandello

## 

##

## before

### Tourists

The montage is a useful cinematic device, rarely used in books.

There are a couple of reasons why this is the case.  Firstly, it is predominantly visual, although it is a great way of slipping a popular piece of music into the movie (often a certifiably classic-rock song) thereby justifying its existence on the soundtrack.

Secondly, it's just very difficult to achieve with any degree of success.

This isn't to say a literary montage is impossible, but it should only be attempted by stunt-novelists with a penchant for recklessness, and no regard for sales.

The following should give you an idea why.

Scene one: Sirius, A GalactanetPort[17].

A flash of light, and three humanoids are standing in one of the arrival decks.  Focus especially on their dazed expressions.  Then fade into...

Scene Two: Sirius, A lounge.

The female humanoid is busy talking to what looks like a suitcase.  There is a strong sense of reunion.  In the background, the two male humanoids are staring out at a densely-forested planet.  Then fade into...

Scene Three: Sirius, A GalactanetPort.

The three humanoids approach the departure deck.  There is a flash.  Then fade into...

Scene Four: Great Orion Nebula.

Three remotely-controlled space vehicles traversing a nebula.  Then fade into...

Scene Five: Mintaka, A Programming Centre.

The three humanoids experimenting with different body shapes.  Then fade into...

Scene Six: Galactic Edge, Deep Space Simulator.

The three humanoids floating in an infinite expanse of nothing.  Then fade into...

Scene Seven: Arneb, University of Philosophy.

Groups of aliens talking with the three humanoids.  Then fade into...

Scene Eight: Nashira, Channel 3728 Studios.

The three humanoids being interviewed by what appears to be a lizard on galactic-wide holovision.  Then fade into...

Scene Nine: Acturus-2, The Surface.

Three humanoid-shaped robots, walking over sand dunes.  Then fade[18].

Jonathan was trying to remember exactly why he was a software-based entity currently residing inside the control centre of a robot presently trudging its way over a desert landscape bathed by the light from a red-giant that was just too close for comfort.

Let's just take each point one at a time, he thought.  I am a software-based entity because I had some lunatic idea that I wanted to explore the Galaxy and this was the only way to do it.  OK, that seems reasonable.

I am inside this robot because it is the best way of experiencing a planet without the interference of a Galactanet simulation.  Fair enough.

But why on Earth am I here[19], as opposed to the verdant slopes of Alcyone-Three?

He spoke into his communication console.  "David?  Remind me: what are we doing here?"

One of the other robots, stopped walking.  The others quickly followed suit.

"I did explain this before we set out," said the robot that David was inhabiting.  "Just over the next couple of sand dunes or so, according to this built-in mapping device, we will find the theme park dedicated to the actual construction of the Galactanet.  Apparently, before the civilisation collapsed, this planet was where it all started."

"Wow, I'm just bursting with expectation."

"Don't be sarcastic."

The third robot spoke.  It had a feminine voice.

"Good grief!  You two are always bickering.  Enjoy yourselves!  Here we are, walking on the surface of a planet who knows how many light-years distant from Earth, and all you can do is argue."

She started walking in the direction David had pointed.

"I guess Ruth's got a point," said Jonathan.  "I don't know what came over me - maybe the heat melted some of my circuits, or something."

"That's OK," replied David.  "Let's go."

They started walking after Ruth, who had almost reached the top of the dune.

David was experimenting with the different ways of controlling the robot.  There were two options, it seemed.  The first was like driving a car: you sat in a spine-hugging chair, and used various levers to control movement.  A 180 degree view-screen showed you what was happening outside.  The second option felt like you were the robot: if you moved your arm, the robot's arm moved.  You saw exactly what the robot saw.

He preferred the second option.  It was just like having a real body again, except movement was just a little sluggish.  The only draw-back was that you felt whatever the robot felt, which included the not inconsiderable amount of heat that was emanating from the red-giant above, and the sand below.  Still, that made it feel like you really were there.

"Hey, we made it!" called Ruth, from the top of the dune.  David and Jonathan hurried up the slope.

On the other side, a small building could be seen.  There was a pictorial sign, of the Milky Way seen from above, with faint lines linking the spiral arms - the Galactanet Logo.

When they reached the side of the building, a door could be seen, slightly recessed into the wall.  It opened with a gentle push, revealing a small room.

"Do we go in?" asked Jonathan.

"No, we just stand here in the hot sun, and look in," replied David.

"Now who's being sarcastic?"

They entered, and Ruth pushed a likely-looking button, which caused the door to shut, and the room to drop.

"An elevator," she said.

"I hope so," said David.

His worry was misplaced, for the sinking stopped, and the door opened again.  The three robots walked forward into a large reception area.  On the left was a robot parking lot; Jonathan could see a number of robots, of all shapes and sizes, some parked and others moving about.  On the right was a computer screen that filled the entire wall.  It was showing masses of tourist information, presumably about the history of the Galactanet, where to buy souvenirs, and where the toilets were.  It did this in a good percentage of the languages currently spoken in the Galaxy.  Unfortunately, English was not one of them.  This was hardly surprising, since the Earth had only been connected very recently.  Lucky for them, there were some pictorial instructions, that indicated they should park first.

Jonathan led the way.

He walked the robot over to a vacant port, and sat down.  As he did so, he felt himself being transferred from the robot.  He caught a glimpse of a tunnel, before appearing in a room.  Ruth and David appeared immediately after him.

"Where are we?" asked David.

"I think I can answer that," said a voice behind them.

Jonathan turned around, to see a noticeably pixelated creature.  They had been so used to the almost infinite detail of the Galactanet, that it was strange to see someone whose individual pixels were discernible.

"Welcome to the Place Of Origin!"

"I guess you wouldn't use the acrostic much, would you?" asked Jonathan, with a grin.

"I'm sorry, I don't follow, but then, humour doesn't always translate very well.  Anyway, my name is Ytepwerrit.  I'll be your guide for the duration of your stay here.  If you care to follow me, we'll enter a simulation of the original Galactanet."

"That's what we're here for," said David with enthusiasm.

At the far end of the room, there was a door, made up of visible pixels.  Their guide approached, opened the door, and held it open for them.

"After you," he said.

### A Brief History Lesson

The first thing Jonathan noticed, once they had walked through the doorway, was that he no longer had a body: just a hand, floating in the air in front of where his body should have been.  The second thing he noticed, was that the whole environment was wire-frame lines, on a black background.  After the reality of the Galactanet, this virtual reality was pale in comparison.  Still, it had to have started somewhere.

He turned to where David and Ruth were.  Or at least, where they had been.

All he could see were two hands, clasping each other.

Oh, that's so romantic, he thought.  I think I want to be sick, but I don't think that's possible here...

"David?  Ruth?  Can you hear me?"

"Sure can, Jonathan.  Is that you over there?"

"Yeah, I'm waving.  See?"

"Gotcha."

Ytepwerrit appeared.  He still had his body, but now that everything was as pixelated, it didn't look out of place.

"Well, this is how the Galactanet used to look like back at the beginning," he said.  "It started out as a planet-based network, but then a team of technologists invented a device that could communicate between any two points in the Universe instantaneously.  Assuming there was a device at both points, of course.

"Since this planetary system is very close to a number of others, some devices were quickly transported to these other systems.  And the Galactanet was born.

"Further expansion was quite slow, at first.  As you know, a message is beamed to possible Galactanet candidates, who then have to build a communication device.  But this occurs at light-speed, so new nodes in the network were slow to develop.  However, they got around this by beaming the message to a lot of star systems.

"Now, there are over three hundred thousand nodes, and new nodes are being connected every hour.  I'm continually amazed at the proliferation of intelligent species of life in this galaxy, and, one can only assume, the universe.  And I tell you, I've seen a few of them.  It seems everyone wants to see the Origin first-hand, if you'll excuse the pun.  That is, if it translated at all.  If not, forget it.  Even so, there are around one hundred thousand million stars in the Milky Way[20] \- that's only 0.0003 percent containing intelligent life.

"Well, that's the brief history of the Galactanet.  For more information, you could visit the Galactanet Archives in the Celbalrai system, or the Museum of Natural and Unnatural History that takes up most of the Jewel Box Cluster.

"Any questions?"

"Yeah, I've got one," said David.  "What about the future?  Are there any plans to connect the Galactanet to other Galaxies?"

"What?  Three hundred thousand systems not enough for you?  No, I guess you're bursting with youthful enthusiasm (I can tell you've only just been connected) and want to push it to the limits.  Well, to be perfectly honest, so were we when we started."

" 'We?'," asked Jonathan.

"Oh, didn't I mention?  I was one of the original team.  I helped in designing some of the network protocols.  Back then, it meant something to be a software-based being, what with corporeals still around.  Now, where was I?"

"Something about 'youthful enthusiasm'..."

"Ah yes.  We had it too.  We decided an intra-Galactanet was fairly radical, but what was to stop us trying for an inter-Galactanet?  Right back at the start, we beamed off messages to many of the galaxies in the local group.  However, the closest one is 180 thousand light-years away[21], so we weren't expecting instant success."

"When was this?" asked Ruth.

"Oh, about 180 thousand years ago."

"Really?  You mean, you've been alive that long?"

"If you can call this living."

"Wow, that means they could connect any second," said David.

"I suppose so, give or take a century."

"Something to look forward to, I guess," said Jonathan.

"Join the club," said Ytepwerrit, with a smile.

Jonathan had a far-away look in his eyes.  "Just imagine what the Milky Way would look like from there.  It would be fantastic!"

"Well, any more questions?" asked their guide.

"We'd best be on our way," said David.

"Yes," said Ruth.  "It's been great, though.  Thanks very much."

"Not at all," replied Ytepwerrit.  "Just doing my job."

"How do we get out of here?" asked Jonathan.  "Not across that ghastly desert again?"

"No, that's just for the way in.  It's supposed to make you appreciate this facility more once you get here.  You can leave directly into the Galactanet."

"I'm not sure whether to sing for joy, or strangle you immediately."

Ytepwerrit looked a little concerned.  "I think I'd prefer the former."

"Oh, I don't know," said David.  "You haven't heard him sing."

"Thanks very much," said Jonathan.

"Let's go," said Ruth, quickly.

Ytepwerrit led the way through the same doors they had entered.  This time, however, it opened into a busy GalactanetPort.  To Jonathan, it looked like an enormous shopping mall; spacious, and exquisitely decorated with small waterfalls that were not bound by the laws of gravity; crowded with 'people' of all shapes and sizes, some walking, some flying, some just floating in mid-air talking.  It reminded him of the conference facility David had sent home to Dave to use in MeetingOfMindsTM.  ("Alien flavoured," Dave had said, with just a tinge of jealousy.)

"Well, so long," Ytepwerrit said.  "I've got some more visitors to see."  He chuckled quietly to himself, probably over some non-translatable joke, Jonathan guessed, and faded quickly from view.

"That was fascinating," said David.

"Certainly was.  But where to now?" asked Ruth.

They walked over to a Destination Board where hundreds of holovids were playing, advertising some of the more popular attractions.  They'd already been to a few, since travel was free - they were exploring the galaxy on a lot less than thirty Altairian dollars a day.

"I liked the sound of the Unnatural Museum," said David.

"It must be huge if it takes up most of the Jewel Box - there's over fifty stars in there," said Jonathan.

"Well, one thing we do have is time."

David started reaching for the appropriate icon, when suddenly the whole environment darkened perceptively, and large screens appeared at strategic locations around the GalactanetPort.  The persistent susurration of sound ceased slowly as people's attention was attracted to the screens.

"What's going on?" said Ruth.

"Did I touch something I shouldn't have?" asked David.

A vaguely humanoid face appeared on the screen.  It started to speak.

"The Management of the Galactanet apologises for the interruption; normal services will resume shortly.  It has come to our attention that a node based in the star system Mirzam has malfunctioned.  There have been scattered reports of abnormal growths, and strange effects, and to date, a number of lives have been lost, although all were later restored from recent back-up copies.

"The entire node has been placed in quarantine until such time as the problem has been identified and rectified.  We apologise for any inconvenience caused, and will endeavour to have full access restored as soon as possible.

"We now return you to your regularly scheduled programs."

The screens disappeared, and full lighting resumed.

There was a burst of talking from all those present in the GalactanetPort, as if what had just occurred was rare.

"What was all that about?" asked Jonathan.

"No idea," replied David.

"Mirzam.  Wasn't that where we did that deep-sun SCUBA[22] diving, about a week ago?" asked Ruth.

"So it was," said David.  "Good thing we got that in before this, or we would have missed out.  Let's go to the Museum."

"Right."

He reached out and grasped the icon.  Around them the world blurred.

### Detention

"Haven't you seen enough yet, David?"

"Come on, Jonathan, there's so much to see."

"But we've been in this Museum for over a week!"

"...And we've hardly started."

"Yes, I know.  But look.  Each of the fifty stars has on average ten planets (and assorted moons), and each has a portion of the Museum.  Why should we have to visit them all?"

"Because it's there!  Now, let's go look at the Musical Exhibit; there's only twenty-five planets of that."

"Yeah, right..."

"Hey, where did Ruth get to?"

"We left her in the Archaic Computer Architecture Halls, remember?"

"Yes, but which planet?  Come to that, which star-system?"

"Ah, good point..."

With around 180 thousand years of Galactanet history, and countless more of its constituents' own histories and cultures, the Museum of Natural and Unnatural History, of necessity, had to be large.  The Jewel Box Cluster was ideal: centrally located, with plenty of room to house the computers that would drive the Galactanet simulations and store all the information.  Once it was set-up, it became the most popular tourist destination in the Galaxy, as millions of Galactanet users passed through seeking entertainment and education.  It became a centre for research and scientific development that rivalled some of the larger University systems.  It was also the most significant source of employment in the area.  All of the various intelligent species of the Jewel Box Cluster became employees of the Museum, or allied supporting corporations.  Of course, because of the size of the Museum, the major employer was Information.

"You're looking for the Archaic Computer Architecture Halls, yes?" asked a crab-like thing, which was sitting behind the Information counter, fiddling with a ruler.

"We certainly are," replied David.  "We think we left someone there."

"Oh!" exclaimed the crab.  "Then you don't want Information, you need Missing Persons, yes?"

"Well, not really.  She's probably there."

"Anyway, it's on Afflorte-Four."

"What, the Archaic Computer Architecture Halls?"

"No," replied the crab with a touch of annoyance, "Missing Persons.  You are trying to find someone, yes?"

"Yes, but we don't want Missing Persons."

"Why not?  You found them already?  Then you're wasting my time, yes?"

"You're certainly wasting mine," said David, crossly.  "Just tell me where the Archaic Computer Architecture Halls are, please."

"No need to get angry.  I would have told you.  This is Information, yes?"

"I'm beginning to think this is Aggravation," murmured David, quietly.

"What was that?"

"Nothing.  You were just about to say: 'The Archaic Computer Architecture Halls are...' "  He waited for the crab to complete the sentence.

There was an embarrassing pause, then the crab glanced sideways, and said:

"Let me just check..."

"You mean you don't know?" David cried incredulously.  "After all that, you don't know?"

"Come now, sir.  It's a large Museum, yes?  Let me quickly look through the directory."

"Fair enough.  It's not as though we're in a hurry.  Luckily..."

The crab scuttled sideways to a computer terminal, and used his mouth-parts to work a specially-built keyboard.  Jonathan could hear it spelling the words out as it typed.

"Hi, guys!  What are you doing?"

Jonathan and David swivelled around to see Ruth walking towards them from a GalactanetPort, carrying a bag full of souvenirs.  Under one arm, she was carrying what looked like a Macintosh.

"Ruth!  We were just coming to look for you.  How did you find us?"

"Easy.  I went to Missing Persons....  Er, did I say something wrong?"

"No, no," said David, cheerily.  He turned back to the counter.  The crab was still at its terminal.

"Excuse me," he called out.

The crab looked up.

"Yes?"

"Forget it," David said.  He turned to the others.  "Now, let's get going.  Next time I will go to Missing Persons."

"That's on Afflorte-Four," called the crab, as they were leaving.  "Glad to be of service..."

In the Hall of Musical Try-Hards, they'd got as far as Hlinshe Qaddfery (30,341-125,227[23]) when another news-flash occurred.  The lighting dimmed, and the same, vaguely-humanoid, face appeared on strategically-placed screens and started speaking.

"The Management of the Galactanet apologises for the interruption; normal services will resume shortly.  Another node of the Galactanet has malfunctioned.  The second planet of the red-giant Acturus, the Place Of Origin, has developed the same abnormal growths and strange effects that appeared in nodes of the star-system Mirzam last week.  The entire system has been placed in quarantine; we apologise for any inconvenience caused, and will endeavour to have full access restored as soon as possible.

"Galactanet Controllers are looking into what is causing the problems, and a list of possibilities has been drawn up.  At this stage, recent additions to the Galactanet have been blamed.

"We now return you to your regularly scheduled programs."

Full lighting returned, as the screens disappeared.

Ruth looked at David.  "Something strange is going on.  I'm wondering if this is a common occurrence, because if it's not, there's one large coincidence happening here."

David nodded, with a slightly worried expression.  He walked over to where a family of fur-covered humanoids were re-mixing Michael Jackson's Beat It[24] at a hands-on exhibit.

"Excuse me," he asked them.  "That message we just saw: does that happen often?"

"Well," replied what was probably the father, "there's only been a few messages, and as for the strange effects they were talking about, never before.  Apart from Mirzam, of course."

"Thanks," said David.  "Sorry to bother you.  By the way, that's sounding good.  Certainly better than the original."

"Thank-you.."

David returned to the others.

"Nope, there's only been the two times.  We're in trouble, I think."

They continued walking through the Hall of Musical Try-Hards, but their minds were not in it.  At the end of the hall, there was a GalactanetPort, waiting to take them to another part of the Museum.

"I don't know about you," said Jonathan, "but I've seen enough.  I need a break from all this."

"I agree," said Ruth.  "Time to move on to something else.  And these souvenirs are starting to get heavy."

"You can always send them home for storage," said David.

"Good idea.  I'll just do it now."

She placed them in the GalactanetPort and pressed the appropriate combination of buttons.  They disappeared, instantly.

Then, suddenly, in their place two shapes started appearing.  They solidified into two people wearing official-looking uniforms, and while their expressions were pleasant, there was something that indicated there were other options, some not as nice.

The one on the right spoke.

"Are you the humans from the recently-connected Earth?"

"Yes," replied David.  "What's the problem?"

"We're from Galactanet Security, and we'd like to speak to you concerning the recent node malfunctions.  If you'll just accompany us back to our system, we'd be greatly obliged."

"No worries."

The right one spoke to the one on the left.

"Cha'arli, could you please work the GalactanetPort controls for us?"

"Certainly, Sa'arj."

"Step this way," said Sa'arj to David and the others.

They walked onto the GalactanetPort, and there was a blurring of the environment.

They were sitting in an office.  Sa'arj was on the other side of a large desk, with a computer console built into it.  His fingers were poised over the keyboard.

"Right.  Let's get this straight.  You've been connected to the Galactanet for about five weeks.  As part of your travels, you went to Mirzam, and a week later, nodes started reporting problems there.  You've been to Acturus, and a week later the same problems started up there, too.  And you say it's just a coincidence?"

"As far as we can tell," said Jonathan.  "We haven't done anything wrong, not deliberately anyway."

"Maybe, but it's one big coincidence.  Oh, by the way, we've put extra security measures around the Jewel Box Cluster.  There's no way the Galactanet Management would risk the Museum."

"We didn't do anything," said David.  "If you ask me, the whole thing sounds like a virus."

"A virus?" asked Sa'arj.

"A 'living' program, with nasty side-effects.  We have them all over the place on Earth."

"Really?  That's awful!"  Sa'arj pushed a button on his desk.  "Cha'arli?  Contact Management, and get them to isolate Earth.  Thanks."  He released the button.

"What?" asked Ruth.  "Just because we have viruses, doesn't mean we're the cause.  It could be anyone."

"Wait a minute," said Jonathan.  "Remember Aa'arou?  He was amazed when he heard about viruses.  Maybe there is something unique about humans, that we have built-in destructive tendencies."

"Well, I've never heard about viruses before," said Sa'arj.  "I think we're on to something; I've got this hunch..."

"So now what?" asked David.

"We'll have to keep you in detention for a while, until we can sort this out.  Don't worry, you'll be comfortable.  And you won't be bored: there's a new game just come out.  Called 'Tetris'."

"Sounds like Aa'arou beat us to it..."

Sa'arj pushed the button again.

"Cha'arli?  Would you escort the prisoners to their new quarters?  Thanks."

"Prisoners?" said David.

"Sorry, force of habit.  'Guests'.  Better?"

"Marginally."

"Actually, why is there a Galactanet Security, if no one in the Galactanet is destructive?" asked Jonathan, as the door opened and Cha'arli came in.

"I didn't say that.  There are always things going slightly wrong.  But it's usually accidental.  This time, we're dealing with something major, and it's looking quite deliberate."

"How long will we be guests then?" asked Ruth, managing to inject just the right amount of sarcasm into the word 'guests'.

"Until the problem is sorted out.  Don't worry, I'll be talking to you again before long.  OK, Cha'arli, take them away."

Three days later, the Archaic Computer Architecture Hall at the Museum of Natural and Unnatural History had to be closed.  There was no reason given.

### Interlude

Dave was out when the last message from the Galactic tourists came through the communicator.  He'd rigged it up so that when anything did appear, a light would flash. There was nothing worse than checking an electronic mailbox and finding nothing inside; he'd spoken at length with Jon on the subject.

The whole set up at MeetingOfMindsTM had been going well in the weeks since his software counterpart and friends had left, especially when the alien environment had arrived.  It had turned out to be very popular; it seemed people enjoyed being in a place where obeying the laws of physics was optional.  Actually, it had given Dave some ideas about possible new environments with interesting physical twists of reality.

The first thing he noticed, when he entered the main work-area of his house, was the flashing light.

Excellent, he thought.  I wonder what they've sent this time.  A post-card would be very nice.

He sat down at the computer, started up a viewing program, and opened the file.

Hmmm... some interesting trinkets in a bag (labelled with The Museum of Natural and Unnatural History)... and is that a Mac?  Wherever did they pick that up?  And why?

Blast, no post-card.  They can't be that busy, surely...

There was nothing else, so he saved the file onto a CD-RAM and shut the system down.

Almost immediately, the communicator light flashed, and a message started to appear on the connected printer.

The Galactanet Management, on request from Galactanet Security, is terminating this connection for reasons of possible endangerment to the Galactanet itself.

Further action may be necessary, and your full co-operation in this matter will be greatly appreciated.  We apologise for any inconvenience this may cause.

"What on Earth?" exclaimed Dave.  "Wait until Jon and Ruth see this..."

He telephoned them both immediately, and within half an hour, they were at Dave's place, discussing the message.

"What have we done, do you think?" asked Ruth.

"Well, I don't think it was us," replied Dave.  "Maybe one of our counterparts has done something."

"And put the Galactanet in danger?  Hardly."

"Oh, I don't know," said Jon.  "I've always said that humans have built-in destructive tendencies."

"I thought Aa'arou talked you out of that?" asked Dave.  "Anyway, how can we find out what's happened if they've cut us off?  I mean, it's not as if we didn't pay the bills - there were none."

"Well, all the connecting was controlled by the Galactanet Management, so we can't do a thing," said Ruth.  "We'll just have to wait and hope our counterparts are OK, and that they'll get in touch if they need us."

"You're right," said Dave.  "Still, I hate waiting."

"You hate waiting?" said Jon.  "I'm just glad they won't be communicating by post; it would drive me crazy..."

### Freedom

"David, do you want to play a Tetris tournament?"

"Not really, Jonathan.  Anyway, Ruth's using the computer terminal."

They were sitting in the apartment that was their 'guest room'.  It wasn't small, but the décor was very plain.  In the main living-area, there were only a few seats, a low-table with some Galactanet magazines on it, and a holovid-machine.  They'd managed to find a channel that actually broadcast TV shows from Earth.  At the moment, it was just I Love Lucy re-runs.

"What's she doing?"

"No idea.  She's been on it for a while, though."

"Ah well, maybe another time."

"Yeah."

They sat and stared at the holovid-screen.  Since the original TV show was not holographic, it appeared in the centre of the screen as a two-dimensional surface.  They had seen some shows that had been three-dimensionalised, but it hadn't been successful[25].

Suddenly, Ruth walked out of the computer room.

"We've got company," she said, and sat down next to David.

David turned to her.  "How do you know?"

"Shh."

There was a knock, and the door to the outside world opened. Cha'arli walked in, carrying a few more magazines.

"I brought these for you," he said.  "There's a copy of Linguistics Illustrated Phoneme Edition for you, Jonathan, and I managed to get a copy of Domicile And Vegetation for you, Ruth.  Sorry, David, but they were all out of Spiderman.  The best I could do was She-Hulk."

There was a chorus of thanks.

"Also, I'm to take you to see Sa'arj."

"Why?" asked David.

"I believe there have been developments," replied Cha'arli.

"Sounds promising.  Let's go."

Leaving the magazines on the table, they followed Cha'arli out the door, and into an elevator, a little way down the hallway.  They were silent as the elevator rose smoothly into the upper levels of Galactic Security.  David appeared to be thinking, Ruth was examining the elevator controls carefully, and Jonathan was whistling a random tune under his breath.  Cha'arli was staring at the panel above the door that indicated where they were.  When the 'You are here' marker reached the number 37, he punched a six-digit code into the panel, and the elevator doors opened.

"Here we are," he said.

They stepped out of the elevator.  They recognised the door to Sa'arj's office, and walked over to it.  Cha'arli pushed an intercom button.

"They're here, Sa'arj."

"Send them in."

"OK."

He turned to them.

"Go straight in."

The door in front of them opened silently.

"Ah, thanks for coming," said Sa'arj.

"As if we had a choice," replied David.

"Now, now, no need to get testy.  You've been well looked after, I hope?"

"Yes, thanks," said Ruth.  "We're enjoying Tetris."

"Ah, nice game that.  Not that I play it on duty, of course."

"Of course."

"Right.  I called you up here because something's happened.  Have you ever been to Deneb Kaitos?  I hear there's a famous planet there where the surface is entirely composed of restaurants.  Bit of a tourist draw, I believe."

"No," replied David.  "We haven't been there.  Why?"

"Well, there's been an out-break of  abnormal growths and strange effects there."

"We're cleared, then!" said Jonathan.

"Not so fast," replied Sa'arj.  "You are still connected; my hunch tells me so."

"Well, tell your hunch to go jump," said David, nastily.

Sa'arj stood up behind his desk quickly.

"You do not get to a high position in Galactanet Security by ignoring hunches," he said, heatedly.

"But how could we be involved?" asked Ruth.

"At this stage, the early reports from Deneb Kaitos talk about a human in a heavy cloak.  He disappeared shortly before the outbreak.  Our one clue is that he doesn't appear on any of our monitoring equipment."

"Not much to go on," said Jonathan.

"Yes, I know.  But going back to the earlier outbreaks, at one of them a cloaked figure was seen.  Anyway, I don't know why I'm telling you all this.  I'm still keeping you in detention for the moment, at least until this character is caught."

"Well, here's wishing you a quick success," said David.

"Rapid," added Jonathan.

Sa'arj pushed a button.

"Cha'arli?  You know what to do..."

The door opened.

"See you again," said Sa'arj as they left.

Back in their rooms, they discussed their position.

"It's so annoying," said David.  "If it wasn't for their ruthless efficiency, I'd be tempted to call them the Keystone Cops."

"Doesn't that sort of defeat the purpose?" asked Jonathan.

"Whatever."

Ruth stood up.

"Listen, if we wait for these guys to find this cloaked bloke then we might be here for centuries, which won't harm us at all, but forget going home.  I think I can work an escape.  If we can get out, we can try and track this guy down ourselves, sort the whole situation out, and get back to our Galactic tour."

"Escape?  How?  The security here is tighter than an elephant in a Honda Civic."

"We'll see..." said Ruth, with a smile.  "Follow me."

7She led the way into the computer room, where the computer was playing Tetris by itself.  She sat down at the keyboard, and started typing.

"It was a mistake to leave this here," she said.  "But then I guess the novelty of the game coloured their judgement.  Firstly, it is simple to exit the game."

The screen now showed a menu-system.

"Then, I located some of the underlying Galactanet protocols, and it becomes a simple matter to alter a few important things.  Like our Galactanet position."

"You haven't done that yet, have you?" asked David.

"No, but I will soon.  I've created a portable programming device that will enable me to access these menus at any time.  That way, I can alter our apparent position, and do anything else that might need doing, such as decoding door-locks.  Not that I need to for the elevator.  Cha'arli was most helpful in that regard."

"He gave it to you?"

"No, I watched him type it out.  Very careless."

She pressed an execute key, and a mini-keypad appeared in the air below her right hand.  Above her hand, a small screen had also appeared.  Using the key-pad, she pressed a button that caused both to disappear.

"Right, that's the portable device ready; I can recall it with a simple hand action.  There.  Now to fix our position in front of the holovid.  Let's go."

She walked back into the living area.  David and Jonathan followed, giving each other bemused glances.

"Sit down, thanks."

They did so.  Ruth typed at her little key-pad for a couple of minutes.

"It's a little slower to use than a conventional keyboard, but it's done now.  As far as Galactanet Security is concerned, we've just become couch potatoes.  Shall we go?"

"Yeah," said David, with a grin.  "Well done, Ruth.  This is excellent."

"Thank me when we're out," she replied.

At the door, she overrode the lock, and removed the entry in the security system logbook.

"Alright, we're on our way," she said.  "Just keep your voices down, though."

They made it into the elevator with no problems.

"Which floor is out?" whispered David to Ruth.

"Didn't you notice when we came in?  Number 17."

With the six-digit code she'd obtained from Cha'arli, the door opened silently at the 17th floor to reveal a passageway with doorways at regular intervals stretching out into the distance.  It looked to be infinite.

"Is that an optical illusion?" asked Jonathan in a whisper.

"Possibly," replied Ruth.  "It won't concern us, because the exit is behind us."

They turned around.

"Where?" asked David.

Ruth typed a few commands on her key-pad.

"There," she said, and the back of the elevator dissolved into blackness.  She stepped through.  "Come on."

David and Jonathan followed, and they found themselves in a busy GalactanetPort.  Ruth was already making her way over to the Destination Board.

"Amazing!" said Jonathan.  "We're out!"

"Isn't she great?" asked David.  "Gosh, I'm a lucky piece of software."

They caught up to Ruth, who was typing at her key-pad again.

"Where to?" asked Jonathan.

"How about Deneb Kaitos?" she replied.

"Wouldn't that be sealed off like the other nodes with outbreaks?"

"Not for us," said Ruth.

Some time later, while Cha'arli was playing a game of Tetris on his computer terminal, there was a buzz, and Sa'arj's voice spoke over their communication channel.

"Cha'arli?"

Cha'arli jumped, and quickly paused the game.  "Yes, Sa'arj?"

"I've got a hunch that those humans are up to something.  What are they doing now?"

Cha'arli pushed a few buttons on his terminal and brought up the position of the humans.

"It's all right, Sa'arj.  They're watching the holovid.  Something called The Simpsons."

"Just as well.  I was worried for a moment then.  Oh yes, and stop playing that game."

"Hey, how did you know, Sa'arj?"

"I had a hunch..."

##

## during

### Dining Out

The long, continuous panning shot is another cinematic device that doesn't transfer very easily into books.  Again, the reason why is that it is predominantly visual; any music used will be, of necessity, the background, mood-building sort.

Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

The view is of a deep blackness, like the kind that is only found in deep underground caves, after you drop your spare torch down a bottomless pit, in an attempt to illuminate the whereabouts of the first one.

But then, suddenly, the darkness is receding, quickly flowing away to hide in corners, as the light pushes in, like a school-yard bully.  And the scene that is now visible is strange.  All that can be seen, as far as the eye can see, are small tables and chairs clustered in groups.  There are waist-high petitions scattered around, and pathways connecting doorways together.  Neon signs are glowing and flickering, announcing to all and sundry, that this particular collection of tables and chairs likes to go by the name of The Spotted Pheasant, or Emerald Jade, or even Joe's Café.

The view passes along one of the larger of the pathways, and what has been a nagging feeling that something is missing, suddenly crystallises: there are no people to be seen.  No matter which way you turn, every seat is vacant, every pathway devoid of movement.

The view twists to the right, and skims over the white table-cloths and shining eating utensils, dodging the occasional unlit candle and dried-flower arrangement.  At this point, the carefully concealed stairways down to the kitchens[26] are visible if your peripheral vision is good enough.

Then, in the distance, something can be seen that breaks the monotony.  A GalactanetPort.  It is clear that is the destination.

And as it approaches, a faint fuzziness is discernible in the Port itself.  The fuzziness spreads, splits into three parts, becomes thicker, and then there are three people standing there.

The view keeps approaching, gaining speed, and quickly becomes a close-up of the three faces, then just one face, then just the nose, then somehow, it turns straight into the nostril, and all is deep blackness again.

Alfred Hitchcock would have been proud.

Ruth tapped away at her portable programming device, then announced:

"All clear.  There's no one here, and no one can trace our passage."

"Excellent," said David.  "That was marvellous, Ruth."

Jonathan sneezed.

"Bless you," responded Ruth.

"Thanks," said Jonathan.  "My nose felt all ticklish there for a second."

"So, this is Deneb Kaitos," said David, looking around at the tables and chairs, that blurred into the horizon on every side.  "Restaurants as far as the eye can see..."

"Actually," said Jonathan.  "That raises an interesting issue.  Why is there food consumption in the Galactanet, if everyone is software-based with no need of sustenance?"

Ruth replied, "That's something I discovered in the Galactanet protocols.  Since eating is an integral part of corporeal existence, it has its roots deep in our psyches.  Thus, when Ytepwerrit and his friends were constructing the Galactanet, they embedded in the protocols a few non-essential things, like eating and sleeping.  The Galactanet 'rewards' these actions with pleasurable feelings - security, comfort, well-being, things like that."

"So, that's why I hadn't even noticed anything out of the ordinary."

"Yep."

David had started walking off while they'd been talking, but he hadn't got far when he stopped.

"Hey, come over here!  This is weird."

Ruth and Jonathan walked over to where David was, and discovered that movement was very hard to accomplish.

"It's like trying to walk through a swimming pool filled with jelly that has set," David said.

"Yeah, that's it exactly," replied Jonathan.

Ruth stopped suddenly.

"Ouch!  I just walked into a wall."

"But I just went through there a minute ago," said David, "and felt nothing."

"Well, I can't see anything."

David said something that sounded like 'Wizinwig'.  Ruth nodded, but Jonathan looked puzzled.

"What did you say?" he asked.

"WYSINWYG.  What You See Is Not What You Get.  It's sort of a pun."

"I'll take your word for it."

"So, what could be responsible for this?" asked David.

"Don't look at me," said Jonathan, who walked off slowly, straight into an invisible wall, then sat down on a seat which wasn't there.

"I would have thought a virus," replied Ruth.  "That would account for the strange growths reported on those news flashes, and these strange effects."

"Yes, but maybe there's some sort of timer release."

"A time-bomb?"

"Yeah.  My guess is that somewhere in the computer system driving this node of the Galactanet, there'll be some sort of time-bomb device.  All we have to do is find it."

"Well," said Ruth, "that won't be easy: if we all experience different effects, it will be difficult to keep up with each other."

"Any suggestions, then?" asked David.

"We could try a heavy-duty programming session."

"That will probably be best.  And we might not have too much time.  Those Security guys will discover we aren't there sooner rather than later."

"True," said Ruth.  "Let's move right away from the GalactanetPort, and start working."

"Alright."

They picked up Jonathan, and started off in a likely-looking direction, but made slow progress.  What made it worse was that the jelly-effect never worked on all of them at the same time.  David would find himself striding forward, leaving the other two forcing themselves through viscosity.  So, he'd stop, and wait for them to catch up, and then find that he was stuck and they were free, so suddenly he'd be the one lagging behind.  Eventually, they decided to keep walking at whatever pace they could and hope it would even out in the end.

Then, of course, there were the invisible walls.  Jonathan would walk through a clear space that would be impenetrable for David following.  Ruth was forced to go about fifty metres to the right, just to go around a particularly long wall, all the while battling through jelly.

It didn't make for good conversation.

"Oh, I've had it," said David, after he'd been trying to get out of an invisible box for about five minutes.  "This spot will do."  As if the environment had heard him, the invisible walls melted away, just as he was leaning on one, and he fell over.  Picking himself up, he called to the others.

Jonathan made his way over to where David had sat down at a table, beneath a neon sign that was flashing Sam's Steak Bar.  Ruth joined them after a few minutes.

"Goodness, let's get this done fast, and get out of here," she said.

"OK," said David.  "Can you give me a computer console?"

"Sure thing."

She tapped away at her portable programming device until a keyboard rose out of the table in front of David.

"Nice one, thanks.  Let's get tracking."

What followed was intense, and Jonathan didn't understand much of it at all.  Suffice to say, once they had mapped out all the strange effects, they used an advanced mathematical algorithm to find the epicentre.

Anyway, it worked.

"Got it!" said David, and he rambled off some memory locations.

"OK, I have it isolated."

"What is it?"

"You were right.  It is a timer-controlled virus.  Whoever made it understood a lot of the underlying Galactanet protocols, and how to by-pass them."

"Can you deactivate it?" asked Jonathan.

"I think so," replied Ruth.  "Yes, that's got it."

Jonathan stood up and walked across to another table.

"No effects to report," he said.

"Good," said David.  "That might just be it."

"You know how those early out-breaks were in places we'd been to, do you think someone was following us all that time?"

"It looks like it."

"Who could have done it?"

"Well, it's someone who knows how to get around computer systems," said Ruth.

"And, someone with a malignant streak," added Jonathan.

"That adds up to one thing: a human."

"Can we find them?" asked Jonathan.

"Well, they're obviously concealing their location."

"And now we are," said David.

"Yes, so we wait until they strike again."

There was a short beep.  David and Jonathan looked at Ruth.

"What was that?" Jonathan asked.

"We've got company," replied Ruth.

The Simpsons had long since finished.  In fact, according to the computer on Cha'arli's desk, the three humans had watched, in succession, The Cosby Show, The Bill, a Mr Bean Christmas special, two hours of Pot Black, and a double episode of The Fresh Prince of Bel Air.  Any normal mortal would have passed out long ago, and Cha'arli was worried.  They hadn't moved at all, so they probably had.  With a couple of new magazines in hand, he took the lift down to their floor.

The door of the elevator opened slowly, revealing a holovid radiating colour to an empty room.

"Uh oh," he said.

A quick look around the other rooms was enough to tell him one thing: there was no one there.  The prisoners - sorry, 'guests' - had escaped.

It didn't take long to raise the alarm, and inform Sa'arj of the situation.  Surprisingly, Sa'arj was quite unperturbed.

"It's not too serious, Cha'arli," he said.  "After all, the latest viral out-break occurred while they were in custody, so it's unlikely to be them.  However, they'll probably want to clear their name."

"But we'll never catch them again.  For some reason, they no longer appear in our surveillance equipment."

"Ah, don't you worry," said Sa'arj with a slight grin.  "Let's go.  I've got a hunch..."

"Company?" said David.  "Sa'arj and Cha'arli?"

"You got it," said Ruth.  "They can't have tracked us, so they must have guessed."

"Well, let's get out of here," said Jonathan.

"Beam us up, Scotty," said David.

"My name's Ruth."

"True.  Well, where do we want to go?"

"Wait a minute, don't we need a GalactanetPort?" asked Jonathan.

"Yes," replied Ruth, "but I can transfer us directly to one."

"Not the one they just arrived at?"

"Of course not."

She flicked a few switches and the surroundings blurred briefly, only to be replaced by a GalactanetPort.  Then, David grasped the nearest icon, and they were away.

Sa'arj took one look at the immensity of tables and chairs visible from the GalactanetPort, and turned to Cha'arli.

"Are you sure we can't pick them up on our surveillance equipment?"

### With A Little Help

The next viral attack was not announced to the general users of the Galactanet, but Ruth and David managed to obtain all the information they needed.  They had found a secluded planet in a small star system whose only claim to fame was as a viewing platform of a magnificent nebula.  The sight was so breathtakingly beautiful that the native inhabitants had developed a society that slept during the day and worked at night.

From delving into some of the protected files of Galactanet Security, the location of the attack was found: a planet orbiting Fomalhaut, a blue-white star only 22 light years from Earth.

Leaving Jonathan gazing rapturously at the nebula, Ruth and David took a GalactanetPort journey to the scene.

"This won't be as easy," said Ruth, just after they arrived at Fomalhaut-Four.  "The place is crawling with Security.  Sa'arj and Cha'arli are here."

"Well, let's just locate the time-bomb device," replied David.

A quick scan of the immediate area revealed a lack of Security.  David thought it would be best to vacate the GalactanetPort and find a nice quiet spot to set up operations.

"This way," he said, and set off down a likely-looking corridor.  From current appearances, Fomalhaut-Four was an underground-based installation.  Wide corridors linked large rooms, and smaller corridors criss-crossed all over the place.  At a six-way junction, David wasn't sure which way to go.  Since he didn't have any idea where he wanted to end up, it probably didn't make much difference.

"Better be quick," said Ruth, looking at the screen of her portable programming device.  "Someone's coming."

"This will do."  David started moving towards the second passage on the left.

"Not bad.  You had a five in six chance of picking a safe direction.  Yet you still managed to find the one in which those people are approaching."

"Well, this one then."  He took the one directly in front.  Which ended in an invisible wall only metres after the intersection.

"Ouch," said David, who had been moving fairly rapidly.  He rubbed his nose.

"This must be the virus at work," said Ruth.

"Shh, I can hear footsteps."

They put their backs against the wall, on either side of the corridor, and waited.  The footsteps got louder, and then two Galactanet Security personnel crossed the intersection behind them.  One of them was speaking.

"...And then it comes at me with its jaws wide open, slobbering literally buckets of slime.  So I grabbed my spear-gun, and with my heart literally in my mouth, I jumped to the side and..."

They disappeared down another corridor, and drew out of ear-shot.

"Well, that would have been a sight worth seeing," said David.  "I wonder what he was talking about?"

"Sounded literally terrifying," replied Ruth.

"Probably his mother-in-law, then..."

"I resent that.  And we're not even married."

"Sorry.  Well, this looks like a good spot for a village.  Let's set-up."

Portable programming devices were quickly retrieved.  Using the same algorithms as before (now coded into compact programs) it took about ten minutes to locate the virus.  Minutes after that, it was deactivated.

"That wasn't so hard after all," said David.  "We'll leave this somewhere obvious - that way Galactanet Security can do some work for a change.  Shall we go?"

"No, I want to see if the mysterious cloaked person left any traces."

"Like what?"

"I don't know.  Probably nothing, but anything will be useful."

The GalactanetPort entries and exits showed nothing that couldn't be accounted for; all users were long-standing users of the Galactanet.  Memory usage in the system showed only that the time-bomb had been dropped off.  There was nothing about how or who.  Not even the transactions from all the eating establishments on the planet showed any signs.  Whoever was doing this obviously didn't have a big appetite, or, more probably, hadn't hung around long after delivery.

"Finished?" asked David.  "I keep expecting Cha'arli to pop up behind me and hit me over the head with a rolled-up copy of The Death Of Superman."

"I told you, they can't find us.  Not unless they start fiddling with the Galactanet protocols."

"Well, what is there left to check?"

"What about this as a possibility?  To get here you have to go through a GalactanetPort, right?"

"Yes, but we checked that."

"True, but we didn't check energy usage.  You see, it depends on how far you are travelling how much energy is consumed - the further you go, the more energy it takes."

"And?"

"Well, I'm comparing the energy consumption with the list of destinations, and there is some energy left over.  I think I can match it with only three possible locations.  We're on our way."

"Alright!"

"Let's go pick up Jonathan.  The game is afoot, Watson."

"Just because I called you Scotty earlier..."

Ruth laughed.

"Come on, let's find a vacant GalactanetPort."

Sa'arj was becoming used to the feeling of helplessness.  This was rapidly becoming one of the most frustrating times in his life, even beating that time he'd been on the Parents and Teachers Association at his daughter's school.  Firstly, there was some psychotic maniac invisibly going around setting off viral time-bombs left, right and centre with no regard for life or property.  Secondly, there were three human vigilantes invisibly going around turning off the self-same viral time-bombs, and then disappearing without a trace.  Thirdly, there was the fact that he was rapidly approaching his one hundred thousandth birthday, and it was getting on his nerves.  And just because he was getting used to the feeling didn't mean he liked it.  On the contrary, he hated it.  And it didn't improve his temper.

"So, you're telling me that within minutes of us finding out that there was a problem here on Fomalhaut, the time-bomb was defused?"

"Yes, Sa'arj."

"What is it with these humans?  They have this uncanny ability to do whatever they want, whenever they want, wherever they want."

"Yes, Sa'arj."

"Well, now what?"

"They left the defused bomb this time, Sa'arj.  We've got a team of programmers looking at it now.  They worked out how to switch it on and off, although the casualties had to be resurrected from back-ups.  However, we should be able to fix any future ones."

"At last: progress."

"And I have an idea."

"You do?" said Sa'arj with a hint of surprise.  "That's good, because I'm all out of hunches."

"Why don't we hire the services of a human so that we can keep track of them all?"

"Who did you have in mind?  The maniac who we can't find, or one of the vigilantes who we also can't find?"

"I thought we could go to the source.  Earth."

"Ah.  I'm beginning to see where you're driving at."

"Good.  I took the liberty of contacting the leader of the Galactanet recruiters who went to Earth.  His name is Aa'arou."

"Where is he?"

"If everything went according to plan, he should be waiting for us just down the hall."

"Excellent work, Cha'arli."

"Thank-you, Sa'arj."

Galactanet Security had managed to rent a disused memory block on one of the outer planets of Fomalhaut.  The place was fairly crowded, as more people were being assigned to the problem of the mysterious time-bomber.  Cha'arli led the way across one of the co-ordinating rooms, and into a small corridor.

"Here we are," said Cha'arli, opening a door.

They went in.

"Sa'arj, this is Aa'arou."

"Hi," said Sa'arj.

"Pleased to meet you," said Aa'arou.  "How can I help?"

"You've heard about the recent outbreaks in some of the Galactanet nodes?"  Aa'arou nodded.  "Well, we have reason to believe that they are caused by someone from Earth."

"Really?" asked Aa'arou.  "Not Dave and Jon?"

"If you mean David and Jonathan, no.  Someone else.  The trouble is, we can't locate any of them, David and Jonathan included.  These humans seem to be able to get around the Galactanet with ease."

"They are rather inventive," said Aa'arou, with only a slightly furtive look.

"Well, we need to go to Earth and recruit one of them to help out.  Any ideas?"

"Let me think.  David and Jonathan are already here.  So is Ruth."

"Yes, we've met."

"You know, you could always make another dump of them."

"True, but I would prefer someone new."

"All right, you want Andy.  Ask for Andy Wakeman.  He should be ideal."

"Cha'arli, write that down."

"Yes, Sa'arj."

"And Aa'arou, thanks for your time.  Be seeing you."

With that sense of busyness that law-enforcement officers have the Galaxy over, Sa'arj and Cha'arli left.  Aa'arou sat pondering the situation for a while.

I hope I did the right thing, he thought.  Well, no point hanging around...

Dave, Ruth, Jon and Andy were conveniently located at Dave's place playing a game of 500 when Sa'arj and Cha'arli dropped in.

There was a beep, and the little light attached to the communicator (really an unsophisticated GalactanetPort) started flashing.

"Hello," said Dave, "we've got a message.  At last!"

The cards were flung on the table, much to the annoyance of Jon who had the two bowers and the ace of trumps, and everyone piled over to look at the monitor.

At first there was nothing, and then two people, roughly humanoid in shape and wearing uniforms, appeared.  Unless David and Jonathan had decided to shape-change, and take up steady jobs, these two were aliens.

"Er, hi," said Dave.  "Who are you?"

"Goodness, is that David, Jonathan and Ruth?"

"Well, we prefer Dave and Jon, but that's us.  And you are?"

"My name is Cha'arj, and this is Sa'arli," said Sa'arj, who was feeling a little flustered.  "I mean, I'm Sa'arj and he's Cha'arli."

"Well, what can we do for you?  I take it you've met our software-counterparts.  How are they?"

"As far as I know, they're fine.  I'm sorry, I'm not used to speaking to corporeals - it's been a while."  He took a deep breath.  "I'm here to recruit someone called Andy Wakeman to help us with a little problem."

Andy looked up, startled.

"Me?"

Sa'arj oriented himself so that he was looking fully at Andy.

"Yes, we need a human programmer."

"Well, that's me on both counts, but I never thought you would want me there."

"Why not?  No, don't tell me.  We haven't got much time.  We want to get you started."

Andy turned to Dave.

"Do you still have that downloading equipment?"

"Sure do.  We can do it tonight if you want."

"Love to."

"Right then.  Anything else, Sa'arj?"

"No, that will be all.  We'll wait for Andy at Sirius."

"OK, but I'll be Andrew by then."

"Really?" asked Sa'arj, puzzled.  These humans are weird, he thought to himself, and disappeared.  Cha'arli followed suit.

"Well, we better get back to the game.  Jon, could you deal again?"

"Oh, why can't we just play this hand as it is?"

His first awareness of being was as a great cloud of electrons flowing along an enormous tube at close to the speed of light.  In a fraction of a second, he was inside a labyrinth of passages and switches, passing backwards and forwards in a confined space.

He became aware of what it was the electrons were doing.  By passing through the wires (ah, that's what the tubes were) certain functions were being performed.  He noticed that a specific group of numbers was added to another specific group of numbers, and the answer was placed elsewhere.

But suddenly, he felt his control of the electrons slipping away.  In fact, they began to do strange, impossible things.  And as a result, parts of him were disappearing.  If this kept up, there would be nothing left of him.

His last awareness of being was fear.

He screamed...

### Closing In

When Andrew stepped out of the GalactanetPort at Sirius, he didn't get much of a chance to relax and take in the sights (of which there were plenty[27].)  Sa'arj and Cha'arli were anxiously waiting for him.

"Now, you're probably wondering what we want you to do," said Sa'arj, after they had got through the formalities of introductions, small-talk about the weather, and where the toilets were.

"I was, actually."

"Brief him, Cha'arli."

"OK, Sa'arj."

Cha'arli proceeded to outline some of the recent happenings in the Galactanet.

"And you want me," said Andrew, after Cha'arli had finished, "to help you track down three of my friends, and possibly locate some mysterious character in a cloak who's been blowing up your computer systems with jelly?"

"That's one way of putting it."

"And if I refuse?"

Sa'arj cleared his throat.

"Well, at this point I would have liked to bring out a very subtle threat to the effect that if you didn't, we'd find something else for you to do that wouldn't be as pleasant.  Unfortunately, nothing leaps to mind, since you humans are practically unstoppable.  I guess we're appealing to your generous nature, assuming you have one."

"How could I possibly refuse that?"

"You accept?"  Sa'arj looked up expectantly.

"Yes."

"Thank-you.  Oh, that reminds me."  Sa'arj turned to Cha'arli.  "Looks like we won't be needing those poison-soaked razor blades after all."

To be kind, Cha'arli did not look disappointed.

"Well, I'll need some way of keying into the computer system," said Andrew.  "It will probably need to be portable."

"Certainly.  If you'll just come this way."

Sa'arj led the way across the GalactanetPort deck to an ascent/descent tube and then down to the Security level.  Once there, Andrew could see a few people of various Galactic races working in a laboratory setting, much like the scenes with Q in James Bond movies.

One insectoidal-looking thing was trying to program a wrist computer with its mandibles.  Sa'arj headed straight to it.

"Fraird!" called Sa'arj.  "How long has it been?"

"Is that you, Sa'arj?  It must be two and a half thousand years!  You're looking well."

"Thanks; so are you."

"What can I do for you?"

"Oh, I need you to fit out this associate of mine with a programming device.  A portable one."

"Right," said Fraird.  "Easily done.  Just hold your wrist out, please."

Andrew did so, and Fraird placed on it what looked like a watch.

"Well, this is the latest model.  This little beauty has direct access to the underlying system at the touch of a button.  It is programmed by thought to allow hands-free use.  The display can be linked to the visual receptors of your choice.  Also note the slim-line finish, and it comes in a great range of pastel colours.  Would you like a test-drive?"

"No, it's fine," said Andrew.  "I'll take it."

"Right.  You start it by pressing the little button on the side."

"This one?"  he said, as he pressed it.  There was a slight tingle that passed up his arm, and earthed itself in his brain.  Almost immediately, a message appeared in his right eye.

"Well, that's it," said Fraird.  "Can I get you anything else while you're here?"

"No," said Sa'arj.  "We'd better get going.  People to catch, you know, that sort of thing."

"Hey, no problems.  Drop in again sometime."

"Yeah, see you in another thousand years or so."

"What a nice guy," said Andrew as they made their way back up the ascent/descent tube to the GalactanetPort.

"Yeah, well civilisation does that to some people," said Sa'arj, cheerily.  "Back when Fraird was a corporeal, his whole race were cannibals.  That is, when there wasn't any other races around to predate on.  They nearly didn't get invited to join the Galactanet, but we needed their ingenuity.  After all, anyone on their planet who could get to adult age without being eaten was considered a genius.  Anyway, software-based life forms don't need to eat, and when they do, it's computer generated food.  Fraird and friends only resort to cannibalism on special occasions."

Andrew, who was looking a little shocked, said, "Looks can be deceiving."

"How's the programming going?"

"I'm getting the hang of it.  What do you want done first?"

They were standing in front of the GalactanetPort by this time.  Sa'arj looked at the Destination Board, and the thousands of choices.

"I would really like to know where David, Jonathan and Ruth are."

"So would I.  All right, give me a few minutes silence, and I'll see what I can do."

He found the interface amazingly easy to use.  In fact, it actually modified itself to fit into his thinking patterns.  It was able to sense when a thought was directed at it, so random thoughts would not end up clogging his programs.  Just to give it a quick test, he programmed a Julia Set generator.  Within ten seconds, it was finished and generating images in his right eye.

He discovered that the display could also be altered so that not all vision in one eye was obscured.  By changing its size, and putting a slightly altered image in the left eye, he generated a three dimensional display that rested a bit less than a metre away from him.

Ah, that's better, he thought.  Now I won't go cross-eyed.

He stored the Julia Set program for later perusal.

Using the 'button' Fraird had referred to, Andrew accessed the Galactanet's underlying system.  It didn't take too long to accustom himself to the protocols, and to find ways around them, much the same as Ruth had before him.  It was plain that the creators of the Galactanet hadn't been concerned about security.

It was also clear that someone was avoiding some of the protocols, and it was a simple task to trace those connections, even through a few GalactanetPorts.

It had only been two and a half minutes in total.  He turned to Sa'arj.

"Have you heard of a star-system called Alpha Hydri[28]?"

Cha'arli nodded.

"Well, they're on the sixth planet."

Sa'arj was almost ecstatic.

"What are we waiting for?  Let's go."

"He's here, somewhere.  I can sense it."

Ruth was scrolling through pages of text that were being generated by her portable programming device.  Currently, the list consisted of all references to cloaked figures in Galactanet users' thoughts within the last ten minutes. (She was getting very deep into the system).  Unfortunately, since Alpha Hydri was 36 light years from Earth, they were just receiving the classic television series of Batman, and it had proved to be a huge ratings success.  At the moment, half the population of the entire star-system was glued to their holovid screens watching Adam West go through his paces, so most of the list was useless.

She altered the search information to remove any thought connected with humour, and the list was reduced to a single screenful.  Reading through the list, she found two references from people in a memory-city on the far side of the planet who had noticed a heavily-cloaked person walking away from a GalactanetPort.  Three further references indicated the probable direction.

"David, could you work on a holding program?  Something that will be able to store a software person.  We should be able to talk to them, but they can't be allowed to do anything else."

"Sure.  Why don't you give me a copy of your programming device?"

"OK."

Once she had made the transfer, Ruth allowed the screen to update, revealing a new list of non-humour-related-cloaked-people thoughts.  Only one appeared connected to the previous ones, and showed that the figure had disappeared into a side-circuit.

"Time to get moving," she said.  "I've got a probable location."

"I haven't got the holding program done yet," said David.

"That's OK."

"Hey, how's this for an idea?" said Jonathan, who was getting a little bit fed up with not doing anything constructive.  "Is it possible to freeze all GalactanetPort usage?"

"Yes!" said Ruth.  "Excellent idea.  I'll try it out once we're closer."

She led the way over to the nearest GalactanetPort, and selected the new locality.  If the thoughts of the users there were anything to go by, that should be very close.

The memory-city, once they arrived, was surprisingly down-market.  They had got used to the spectacularly beautiful settings of the Galactanet, possible when everything is computer-generated.  This place, named Hruwerg, was bordering on squalid.  Shabby programming, combined with poor error-checking, had produced structures that did not have correct perspective, and didn't even connect properly with the ground.  Fragments of old programs lay discarded on the pavements.

Ruth, once she had got her bearings, set off in what she hoped was the correct direction.

"Not a nice place," said Jonathan.

"No," replied David.  "I bet this was a late-night job at the end of a long week."

"Come on, guys," called Ruth, who was some way ahead.

"Look," called David.  "I'm trying to program and walk at the same time, and it's not easy."

"Good thing you don't have to think as well," said Jonathan, playfully.  But David was already absorbed in his task.

Up ahead, Ruth had stopped at the entrance to the side-circuit.  Across the street, a large purple hedgehog was rummaging in a bin for a useable piece of software; it looked up briefly, but lost interest.  The others had caught up by this time.

"Well, this is it," said Ruth.  "Are you ready yet?"

"Almost," replied David.

"We have to be fairly quick.  If we worked out how to shift back to a GalactanetPort instantly, this guy should be able to as well.  Maybe if I disable his hidden-status, you could get the holding program over him while he's distracted."

"Sounds good."

"And me?" asked Jonathan.

"Try and look threatening," said David.

"Right."

Ruth put her hand on the opening switch, and pushed.

Andrew wasn't exactly sure how to proceed, and Sa'arj wasn't helping matters.  He had always found it difficult to program when people were staring over his shoulder; that was why he had become a computer hacker and not a concert pianist.  Admittedly, there were probably other reasons, but that one would do for now.

They'd got to Alpha Hydri quite easily, but his friends were still invisible as far as the Galactanet protocols were concerned.  He wondered briefly if that meant they would be invisible physically.  If not, then other people might have seen them.

Using NeuroProg, he cracked into the computer system's graphics production unit.  He was looking for any user who had 'seen' three humanoids together; if there were any candidates, it would be a simple matter to check the stored image.  Actually, it was surprising how much information was stored in the system.  The history for images went back several minutes, long enough to take up a substantial portion of memory.

Bingo!  They are here...

Apparently a purple hedgehog had seen three humans together in a place called Hruwerg.

"No time to lose," he said to Sa'arj.  "They're about to enter a side-circuit.  This could be a good opportunity."

Andrew jumped into the GalactanetPort, Sa'arj and Cha'arli right behind him.

A panel opened, and Ruth leapt through, David and Jonathan right behind her.  The side-circuit was dimly lit, and consisted of a single corridor stretching into the distance, with only a few doors opening from it.

It has not empty, though.  About half-way down the corridor, a cloaked figure could be seen.

### The Capture

The figure was crouched down, and looked as though it was placing something on the floor.  Because she didn't want to hurt an innocent victim of mistaken identity, Ruth checked the Galactanet protocols to see if this person appeared there.

She whistled softly.  According to the Galactanet, this corridor was supposed to be empty.

But the figure must have heard her, for it looked up, its face shrouded in darkness by a large hood.  In a flash, it was standing.  Instinctively, Ruth altered the protocols so that the figure was no longer hidden from the system.

"Now!" she called to David, who was standing behind her.

But he was too slow, for the figure disappeared in a comical puff of smoke.

"Swear words!  Missed."

His holding program had taken a vice-like grip on an empty space of flooring.  He released the catch, and retrieved the program.

"He got away," said Jonathan.

"Not completely," said Ruth.  "He's no longer hidden.  I've got a trace on him, but we can't let him stop for too long, or he'll hide himself again."

With a couple of switch flicks, they were in a GalactanetPort, and after consulting her programming device, Ruth selected the new destination: a star a few thousand light years from Earth without a human name.

"Ready this time?" she asked David.

"Yes."

Their environment blurred briefly, and resolved into a semi-rural landscape with strikingly unusual colours: reddish grass, orange tree-like things, and a figure hurrying down a green road, its cloak flowing majestically behind.

"There he is!"

David launched the holding program.  There was one of those infinitely long split seconds as the program flew through the memory and locked on the target fair and square.  The figure was rendered immobile immediately.

"Touchdown!" cried David.  "And the crowd goes wild..."

"Nice shot," said Jonathan.

The three of them hurried over to where the figure was lying on the ground, still heavily cloaked.

"Can you remove the hood?" asked Ruth.

"I can release small sections, if you wish."

"Just the hood, and the vocal tract, thanks."

"Here goes."

He tapped away at his own portable programming device.  After a minute or so, the material of the hood appeared to relax.

"There," he said.

Ruth was just bending down to pull the hood back when there was a call from the GalactanetPort they had just come through.

"Dr. Livingstone, I presume..."

It was Andrew.

Behind him, they could see Sa'arj and Cha'arli.  It looked as though the long arm of the law had finally caught up with them, just in time.

"Andy?  No, it would be Andrew, right?" asked David.

"Yes.  Well, it didn't take too long to find you.  Not a bad achievement considering the size of the Galaxy."

"Well, you have good timing," said Jonathan.  "We've caught the mysterious time-bomber.  At least, we think so."

"Really?  Saves me doing it."

He turned to Sa'arj.

"Here they are.  All of them."

"Good work.  And this is the maniac?"

They were all standing around the cloaked figure.

"We're fairly certain," said Ruth.

She leant over again, and put her hand on the edge of the hood.

"Now, let's see who it is."

Slowly, she drew back the hood.

### The Dark Side

"It's Luke Skywalker!" cried Jonathan in horror.

Ruth took a step back, and David let out a long, low whistle.

"Who?" asked Sa'arj.

Andrew spoke slowly.

"He's a character in one of Earth's fairly famous movie trilogies.  You have movies, right?"

Sa'arj nodded.  "Yes.  A fictional character?"

"I would have thought so, up to now," replied Andrew.

"Is he able to speak?" Ruth asked David.

"Yeah, should be able to."

"Who are you?" she asked.

The man cleared his throat.  "You guessed right," he growled.

"What are you doing here?"

"Not much at the moment."

"I mean, what are you doing here in the Galactanet?"

"I knew what you meant.  I'm not answering any questions until I have my lawyer present."

Sa'arj felt like he should be asking the questions, since he was the officer in charge.  He spoke up.

"Sorry, but we don't have lawyers here.  Now you'll just have to answer the questions, or I'll get Cha'arli here to start collecting some more information for his Ph.D thesis in pain thresholds."

"Nice one," said Jonathan quietly, but appreciatively.

Luke Skywalker was silent for a moment.

"Oh, all right.  Not much to say, anyway.  I'm just a software creation, a shell of a human personality, with a scanned image for a face.  I don't know anything about where I come from or even who made me.  All I know is that I was to go around the place dropping off little parcels.  I don't even know why, although it has been fun."

"Well, it was challenging trying to find you," said Ruth.

"So you didn't know you were from Earth?" asked Sa'arj.

"No, I always thought I came from a galaxy far, far away..."

"Great.  We can't get to the source."  Sa'arj sounded a little peeved.

"But at least you won't have to worry about any more viral time-bombs," said David.

"Oh, that reminds me," said Luke Skywalker with an evil grin.  "My death will trigger the release of another agent."

"Who said anything about your death?" asked David.

"I did.  May the force be with you."

And with that, as if it had been a password, Luke Skywalker disappeared.

"Hey, where did he go?" called Sa'arj.

"How did he do that?" asked Jonathan.  "I thought you had him locked in."

Both David and Ruth were furiously working their portable programming devices.  Andrew was doing the same with his NeuroProg.  They all reached a similar conclusion at about the same time.

"He wiped himself," said Ruth.

"Committed hari kari," said David.

"Offed himself," said Andrew.

"What did he mean about triggering the release of someone?" asked Cha'arli.

"Simple," replied Sa'arj.  "He somehow broadcast a message that will be picked up  back on Earth, and another viral time-bomber will be sent off."

"That is, if he is to be believed," said David.

"Well, this makes one thing clear," said Ruth.  "Earth is definitely the source of the problem.  We can rule our corporeal selves out, I think, so that leaves us with only one further possibility: someone else cracked the recruitment package."

"Yeah, a maniac," said Jonathan.

"You have to admit, on Earth there's no short supply of them, is there?" said Andrew with a grimace.

"You know," said Sa'arj.  "The more I hear about Earth, the more I think it won't become a popular tourist destination."

"Oh, I don't know," said David.  "Six billion people can't be wrong..."

There was a piercing sound from Sa'arj's wrist.

"What was that?" asked Jonathan.

"Just my telephone," replied Sa'arj.

"Yeah, but that loud?"

"I sleep soundly."

Sa'arj closed his eyes, and entered a virtual reality where he was speaking with the caller in a light, airy room with billowing curtains of delicate white lace.

To the others, Sa'arj hadn't disappeared; they stood looking at him, and only heard half the conversation.

"... Yes, sir... Fine thanks, sir.  How's your wife?... Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, sir.  Good thing she's left-handed... She's not?... Oh, yes, we caught the person responsible for the node-bombings... Well, they got away... No, we can't chase them, not if we want to get back... So, what can I do for you?... Really?  How long ago?... Five minutes?... We'll be right there... Oh, and expect the bombings to restart... Yes, see you soon..."

He opened his eyes.

"Who was that?" asked Cha'arli.

"Wrong number," said Sa'arj.  "Come on, something unexpected has occurred."

"Er, what about us?" asked David.

"Well, I think you should come along for the moment.  That's an invitation, not an order."

"I don't see why not," said David.  The others agreed.

Sa'arj led the way over to the GalactanetPort, and selected an icon.  The environment blurred briefly.

To Jonathan, the new surroundings were familiar, yet he knew he hadn't been there before.  There was something about the white-painted walls, and muted smell of disinfectant that reminded him of a hospital.

"Welcome to the Galactanet Hospital," said Sa'arj.

David happened to glance at Jonathan, and was surprised to see a very smug expression.  He lifted one eyebrow in query, but Jonathan didn't notice, so he dropped it.

Sa'arj continued.  "This is where any software alterations are done on Galactanet users.  It's usually quite painless: a back-up copy of yourself is made, and is operated on, while you have a quiet sleep in one of the rest-facilities.  Once it's done, and it's successful, they just wipe the old-self, and you go off a new person."

"Sounds vaguely scriptural," said Ruth to David, quietly.

"Why are we here?" asked Andrew.

Sa'arj paused.  At last, he said, "It seems the person responsible for the time-bombs has released a hostage."

"What?" cried Jonathan.  "You mean the guy back on Earth?"

"Yes.  We didn't know that he even had any hostages until only a few minutes ago.  The released hostage is here."

A little way down the corridor from where they were standing, a door opened and a familiar figure came out.  It was Aa'arou.

"Aa'arou!  Good to see you," said David.  Jonathan and Ruth added their greetings.  Aa'arou, on the other hand, seemed a little out of sorts.

"Oh, hi," he said.  "Sorry, I can't stay and chat; I'm not feeling well."

"Right place for that," said David, cheerfully.  But Aa'arou ignored him, and turned to Sa'arj.

"Listen, as soon as you're finished with him, put him out of his misery."

Sa'arj almost took a step backwards.

"That was the intention."

"Good."

With that, Aa'arou walked over to the GalactanetPort and was gone.

"Well!" said Jonathan.  "That was a tad abrupt."

"Come," replied Sa'arj.  "This will hopefully clear a few things up."

He walked through the door Aa'arou had just come out of, and Cha'arli followed him.  Andrew looked at David, who shrugged.

"We'd better go," said Ruth.

They went in.

The room was just like one you would find in any hospital on Earth.  There were four beds, one in each corner of the room, with movable curtains around them.  Only one bed was entirely enclosed off; it was the one Sa'arj and Cha'arli were about to enter.  The others hurried over.  With a gentle movement, Sa'arj brushed the curtains aside, and went through.

There, lying on the bed, was Aa'arou, looking very much the worse for wear.  His appearance was tattered, and parts of his body were either flickering with a snow pattern Jonathan readily remembered, or else were missing entirely.  His face was puffy, and one eye was closed.  The eye that was open turned towards them with not a flicker of recognition.

"Aa'arou?  What have they done to you," asked David.

There was a long pause.  When Aa'arou finally replied, he spoke with a voice that crackled.  "Who are you?  I don't know any of you."

"It's me, David.  And this is Jonathan, Ruth and Andrew.  You remember, don't you?  You met us on Earth."

"Earth?  Yes, I remember planning to go...  What happened?"

Sa'arj stepped up at this point.

"Don't concern yourself.  You'll be alright in a while."  He turned to the others.  "Aa'arou, here, was picked up in a distant system, after he stepped out of a GalactanetPort and collapsed.  From what we can gather, he was sent from somewhere on Earth."

David was frowning.  "We'd already come to the conclusion that someone on Earth had decoded the recruitment package independently of our corporeal other halves.  Whoever did that, did this to Aa'arou.  Man, we are talking about one sick puppy, here."

Aa'arou coughed.  "I assume because I don't remember any of that, my mind has been tampered with.  I do remember a message, though."

"Yes?"

"Here goes."  And his voice changed, as if he was playing-back a recording. "Greetings from Darth Vader.  You have tasted of my cunning and have suffered under my judgement.  Know that I am prepared to continue this war of subterfuge and violence until all of my demands are met.  I am also holding three further hostages who will meet with unpleasantness as a not-necessarily-last resort.

"My demands are as follows: firstly, collect together blue-prints for all of the most recent technological developments, and place them in a GalactanetPort on the fourth planet of Zubeneschamali; secondly, collate a multi-media file of all musical styles prevalent in the Galaxy both currently and over the past few thousand years or so, and place them in a GalactanetPort on the seventh planet of Zubenelgenubi; thirdly, stay the heck away from Earth and do not even think about trying to find me, or it will be worse for you.

"You have approximately two Earth-weeks to comply.  After that, the Galactanet will crumple.  Hey, I might even do it before then.  Who knows?  I guess it just depends on how I feel."

Aa'arou lapsed into silence.

"Darn," said David, with feeling.

"That just about sums it up," said Jonathan.

"Cha'arli, get onto those demands just in case," said Sa'arj.

"Right, Sa'arj," said Cha'arli, and he left.

David watched him go.  "Doesn't say much, does he?"  he said.

"No," replied Sa'arj.  "Not since you guys escaped.  By the way, that was clever.  We'll have to get you to upgrade the security of the Galactanet."

"Humans have found their Galactic niche," said Andrew.

Ruth was looking angry.  "You aren't just going to give in to his demands, are you?"

Sa'arj shook his head.  "Not at all, but we have to cover every possibility.  What do you suggest, though?"

"Well, it's obvious now that we are dealing with a corporeal human."

"Why do you say that?"

She looked around at the other humans.  "Our corporeal counterparts didn't seem to mind that they wouldn't be able to become part of the Galactanet themselves.  But this guy wants to profit physically from it: he's asked for things which he can claim to invent on Earth."

"Of course," said Jonathan.  "Why didn't I think of that?"

"Oh," said Ruth modestly, "It didn't take too much thought..."

"No, I meant profiting from swiped technology."

"Jonathan!" said David, with mock horror.

Andrew was looking at Aa'arou.  "Is there anything we can do for him?" he asked Sa'arj.

"No, I promised Aa'arou.  Remember?"

"Yes.  When?"

"Now.  I have a recording of the message.  It's for the best."  He turned to Aa'arou.  "Are you ready?"

Aa'arou closed his eye.  "Yes," he whispered.

Sa'arj moved around to the end of the bed, where there was a clipboard hanging, with a small display-screen built into it.  He typed a couple of words into the small key-pad.

The bed was empty.

### Solo

"Now what?"

It was the question on everyone's lips, but Jonathan had been the quickest.  They'd relocated back to Sa'arj's office; familiar territory for most of them.  The first thing Sa'arj had noticed, was a report saying new viral outbursts had occurred in a couple of places.  As yet, Galactanet Security had been unable to defuse them, since they were different to the first ones.  Then, Cha'arli had come in to say that new sightings of a cloaked figure had been reported.  Then, Jonathan had asked his question.

No one rushed to answer.

The silence was lengthening, like a lump of clay being rolled back and forth, when Andrew spoke.

"I've been doing a few calculations, and I think I can locate the source computer of Earth.  If I can time it right, I should be able to get in.  After that, I'm not  as sure."

"How?" asked David.

"I don't want to say.  It will take up quite a lot of memory, though.  I'll have to dig pretty deep into those protocols."

Ruth was looking intrigued.  "Will you need help?"

"No, it'll only work if I do it alone, so to speak."

"Start playing the William Tell Overture," said Jonathan.

"Something like that," said Andrew.  "Listen, you guys track down this new shady character.  When you catch him, I'll know."

He got up to leave.

"Hey, look after yourself, kemosabe" said David.

"I will, Tonto."  He smiled, and left.

"Well, we'd better get out there ourselves.  Got your programming device ready, Ruth?"

"Yes."

"Then the Bloodhounds are off," cried David, and sprang for the door.

Ruth and Jonathan followed at a leisurely pace.  At the door, Jonathan turned.  "Don't worry about us; insanity is wired-in, I'm afraid..."

When they were gone, Cha'arli turned to Sa'arj.

"And the future of the Galactanet rests in their hands?"

Sa'arj smiled.  "Yes, but I'm not the least bit worried.  I've got this hunch..."

As soon as he had left Galactanet Security, Andrew made himself invisible, both to the Galactanet system, and to the graphics components; no one would be able to see him at all.

Ghost who walks, he thought, although that's mixing metaphors...

He had already worked out what was needed.  Essentially, the GalactanetPorts were the only way of travelling around the Galactanet.  Certainly, they were the only way of getting off Earth.  Thus, all that was needed was someone to monitor every GalactanetPort.  Then, when 'Darth Vader' opened his system to let out a shady character, whoever was there would be able to step straight across.  Simple!

Unfortunately, there were over three hundred thousand nodes, and each one had a score of GalactanetPorts.  It would be physically impossible for one person to watch that many, not even by remote.  But Andrew had heard the phrase 'you can't be in all places at once' and didn't believe it.  After all, wasn't there such a thing as parallel processing?

Using NeuroProg, he quickly wrote a simple little program, that would replicate him when activated.  It didn't take long to finish, and after scanning it for bugs, he ran it.

Nothing happened.

"Hello?  Anyone there?" he called.

"Hey!  No need to shout, I'm right here..."  It was a familiar-sounding voice - his - and it was emanating from a point a couple of metres to his left, at mouth level.  Strange though, it didn't sound exactly like him.  It was like hearing his voice on tape; it didn't sound right.

"Great, it worked.  You know what to do?"

"Of course.  I am you, you know."

"Sorry.  I guess I haven't had a lot of experience talking to myself."

"Well, let's get going.  There's a lot of galaxy to see..."

"See ya round."

He couldn't tell if he'd gone, but it felt as though part of him had left.  He was about to follow his own example when he had a sudden thought.  How would he keep track of which GalactanetPorts were being watched, and which ones weren't?  But then he dismissed it.  He'd just rely on his own good sense.  No problem.

He located the nearest GalactanetPort, transported himself there, and sat down.  He was about to activate the replicator program when a voice spoke in his ear.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?  This is mine."

It was himself again.

"Oh, come on, I thought you'd leave this one for me, since it was closest."

"Well, that's what I thought."

"I suppose that follows."

"So what do we do?"

They thought about it for a while.  Suddenly, they both exclaimed at the same time, "I know!"  Then they both said, "You first."  Then, "No, you."  Then, "OK."

He was about to start, but instead he held his breath.  Luckily, the other one didn't.

"We can set up a monitoring program that will keep track of which nodes have been visited.  Then, before jumping to a new node, we check the program, select a new node, tick it off, then go.  Once at a new node, we send a new guy off straight away to a new node.  But we stay and co-ordinate the replicating for that node."

"That was exactly what I was going to say."

It didn't take too long to plunder a Galactanet map out of the system, and to link it to a monitor program.

"Right, you stay here and do this node.  I'll do the first jump."

"OK.  Second time lucky."

"Let's hope so."

Andrew looked around at his surroundings.  The GalactanetPort was situated in a parks-and-garden setting.  There were a number of graceful trees close by, with beautifully trimmed grass around his feet.  In the distance, he could see a bubbling stream, flowing through the grounds.  There were some strange sounds which he assumed were the calls of what passed for birds on this planet.  There was even a light breeze blowing; he could feel his hair wave.  It was peaceful and idyllic.

Suddenly he heard a voice say, "Well, I'd better be getting on."

Andrew jumped.  "I thought you'd left!"

"Nah, I was just enjoying the view."

"So was I."

"You know, we are just too similar."

"What a strange coincidence.  Look, would you get moving, or we won't be in position in time."

"Alright.  See ya."

This time he waited two minutes.  Then he said, "Are you there?"

There was no answer, but that didn't mean too much.  He just hoped he was as concerned about the situation as he was, then realised he probably was.  He sat down, his head spinning.

At least he was the one based at the monitoring program.  That way, he'd know how he was going.

He quickly replicated himself and dropped copies off at all the GalactanetPorts in the current node.  He discovered the best way was to do it without talking; if he did stop to talk, invariably he would get into an argument with himself.

When he got back to the monitoring program, he was pleased to see that eight nodes had been done, and it was doubling every three minutes.

After only fifty-four and a half minutes, a copy of himself was stationed at every GalactanetPort in the entire Galactanet.

The Bloodhounds had relocated to a small moon in a system very close to the Galactic centre.  David and Ruth had wanted to be in a central location so that their search programs would run at their most efficient.  Jonathan was more interested by the view; since there was no atmosphere on the moon, the stars were constantly visible.   And the sky was simply thick with stars, in any direction you chose to look.[29]

Ruth set the locator programs going.  Having captured Luke Skywalker, they had a much better idea about what to look for; it wasn't going to be straightforward - and they assumed there would be some extra little tricks - but it wouldn't take too long.

"Hello," said David.  "Something appears to be slowing down the Galactanet."

"Really?" replied Ruth.

"Yep."

"It's not a new manifestation of the current mysterious character, is it?"

"I don't think so.  But whatever it is, it's increasing exponentially."

Jonathan appeared to be thinking.

"If the Galactanet is slowing down, shouldn't I be able to feel it?"

"No," responded Ruth after a moment's thought.  "You see, you're inside the Galactanet.  If the system slows down, then your thoughts and senses also slow down.  You won't notice a thing."

David continued, "I can only tell it's happening by checking with the underlying protocols.  Wait a minute, it's stopped."

"Still no sign of what it was?" asked Ruth.

"No.  My guess is that it was Andrew.  He said something about memory-usage, didn't he?"

"So he did."

Suddenly, a small holovid screen appeared in the air between David and Jonathan.  It was Andrew.

"Hi guys!  Lone Ranger reporting in," he said.

"Andrew, what happened?" asked David.  "Are you all right?"

"Yes, no worries.  Emphasis on the all, though."

"Where are you?" asked Ruth.

"Oh, here and there.  I think there's a Beach Boy's song that's appropriate here - " (He started to sing) " - Round, round, get around, I get around..."

"OK, we get the picture.  What can we do for you?"

"I just called to say I'm in position, so the quicker you find this next character, the quicker I can get out of here."

"We've got the programs searching now."

"Excellent.  Well, I'll be ready.  Lone Ranger out."

"Bloodhounds standing by," said David.

The holovid disappeared.

"Well, well, that was interesting," said Ruth.  "He's really got me curious."

"Anything from the search routines yet?"

"No."

"Anyone for 'I spy'?" asked Jonathan.  "I spy with my little eye, something beginning with 'S'."

" 'Stars'," said David immediately.

"Hey, how did you know?"

"You've got a one-track mind."

"At least I've got a mind..."

The distance between David and Jonathan was beginning to get fractionally smaller, when, suddenly, a small holovid screen appeared.  It was Andrew, again.

"Hi guys!  Lone Ranger reporting in," he said.

"You again!" said David.  "What now?"

"What do you mean, 'again'?  I haven't spoken to you since I left Sa'arj's office..."

"Then who was that not two minutes ago?"

"Well it wasn't me... oh, hold on.  It could have been, I guess."

"You mean, you're not sure?"

"Put it this way: I'm trying to do a number of things at once.  Anyway, that's not what I wanted to say.  I thought you might want to have a squiz at Alpha Reticuli.  I think that's where our current problem is hiding at the moment."

"What makes you say that?" asked Ruth.

"Well, I was in the area...  There's a Beach Boy's song that's appropriate here..."

"Yes, yes," said David, quickly.  "We heard it.  Well, we'll concentrate the search in that direction.  Thanks for the tip."

"No worries.  I'll be ready.  Lone Ranger out."

"Bloodhounds standing by again."

The holovid disappeared.

Ruth incorporated the new information into the search.

"I'm really curious now," she said.  "Temporary memory lapses?  Somehow, I don't think so."

There was a beep from the locator program.  A single node of the Galactanet was highlighted on the accompanying map.

"Alpha Reticuli.  Andrew was right."

"OK," said David.  "I suggest we implement Jonathan's earlier idea, and close off the GalactanetPorts."

Ruth busied herself with her portable programming device for a couple of minutes.

"There.  I'll leave it open just long enough for us to get there."

The three of them hurried over to a GalactanetPort, and Ruth selected the correct icon.

As they disappeared, Jonathan could have sworn he heard a voice that sounded like Andrew's wish them good-luck.  No, impossible, he thought.  I'm starting to hear things.

The eventual capture of the mysterious character was surprisingly uneventful.  Once at Alpha Reticuli, David and Ruth quickly tracked him down, removed his hidden status, clamped a holding program on him, and transported him to them.  No point chasing him all over the place.

There was no need to remove the hood this time, as it must have slipped down during the capture.  It was Han Solo.

"Anything to declare?" asked David.

"Nope.  May the force be with you."

And he disappeared.

"Great.  That was really informative."

"Maybe so.  Let's just hope whatever it was Andrew was planning came off."

"Yeah."

Andrew (one of many) had ended up next to a GalactanetPort on an platform orbiting the fifth planet of Alphard, an orange giant 130 light years from Earth.  He'd only been waiting for about an hour, but already he was bored.

Why couldn't those guys get their collective act together.  I mean, is it so hard to find one person in a Galaxy?

He'd wanted to explore the platform, and meet some of the local residents.  He'd even considered replicating himself again, and telling the new guy to do the sentry duty, allowing him to go out and enjoy life for a while.  But then, after considering the pros and cons, he decided he didn't want to go to all that trouble, only to lose an argument with himself, and end up being the one to stay, while the other one got to leave.  That would be intolerable.

Using NeuroProg, he quickly glanced at a new program he'd written.  It only had one purpose: if the new agent came through his GalactanetPort, he'd drop the program, and it would wipe all his other selves.  After all, he wouldn't want thousands of versions of himself roaming the Galactanet if he'd just selflessly jumped into the frying pan.

Suddenly, there was a fuzziness in the GalactanetPort.

He looked up with interest.  There hadn't been much movement through this particular GalactanetPort.  The last thing to use it had been a pulsating lump of purple jelly that had reminded him of a dessert he'd once had the pleasure of eating.  It hadn't seen him (he was still invisible) so he hadn't been able to talk to it.  That is, if it was capable of talking.

This time, the shape that was developing was decidedly humanoid in shape.

Could this be it?

He readied himself in preparation for a rapid jump.  The launch window would not leave much room for error.

The shape seemed to be taking forever to resolve, even though it was probably only a few seconds.  He waited only until he could see the face.

It was Princess Leia.

He dropped the program and jumped.

### Caught

Andrew found himself in a completely black environment.  Obviously, the computer system he had entered was not programmed to generate images for the visual receptors in his brain.  NeuroProg, on the other hand, was functioning perfectly.  He used it to scan the immediate area in memory.  It didn't take too much more effort to generate some simple wire-frame graphics that represented the scan.

It seemed he was in a fairly large enclosed area, with no obvious exits.  Maybe it was just a bug in his programming, but it felt like a prison cell.

There were only three other objects in the area, grouped together in one of the corners.  He went over to investigate, but he had a fairly good idea what they were.

"Trifgishi?  al'Dlo?  William?"

One of the wire-frames, the one that resembled a miniature yak, started up, and looked around blindly.

"Who's that?  Where are you?"

The other two shapes, one that looked remarkably like a slug, and the other like a free-standing prism, also looked around.

"Trifgishi, it's alright.  You don't know me, but I have met you before.  My name is Andrew."

"When did we meet?"

"You are part of the recruitment package to Earth, right?"  Trifgishi nodded.  "Well, some friends of mine decoded it independently of whoever decoded you here.  I met you there."

"What happened to us?"

"You went back to the Galactanet."

"Well, I guess that's alright then."

The slug spoke.  "What's going on?  We've been here for simply ages."

"Well, the guy who is holding you here is black-mailing the Galactanet to give him technological advances.  You three are his hostages."

"What are you doing here?" asked al'Dlo.

Andrew smiled, although they couldn't see it.  "I'm here to rescue you."

Suddenly, one of the walls of the prison became a gigantic television screen, and a face could be seen looking in.  Andrew immediately moved to the lower back corner.

"All right, what's going on in there?"

Trifgishi answered.  "Nothing, sir."

"Rubbish.  Something was different during that last transfer.  Now, I notice you three are peculiarly active all of a sudden.  So tell me, what's going on?"

Andrew could sense things might get messy rather quickly.  Using NeuroProg, he called up his replicator program and activated it.  Then, quietly, he said to himself, "Get moving..."

He couldn't see anything, until his new clone suddenly appeared.  It had obviously removed its hidden status.  He watched it rise up to join the other three.

"Well, what have we here?  Someone from the Galactanet who got just a little bit over-involved in something he shouldn't have?"

He heard his clone say, "Not so.  I'm here under the authority of Galactanet Security, and you are under arrest."

"Really?  I don't think so..."

There was a rapid movement from the side wall, and his clone was immediately caught in a robotic hand with long claws.

"Oww, let me go!"

"No, I think you're under arrest for trespassing.  Let me have a closer look at you..."

The hand moved towards the screen, and Andrew's clone was powerless to resist.

"Wait a minute.  I know you.  You're from the University.  Someone Wakefield, or something..."

"Andy Wakeman.  What is it to you?"

"Oh, don't you recognise me?"

"Should I?"

"Maybe.  My name's Joe.  I was in the year after you."

"Sorry, I don't remember."

"Nice scandal, Andy.  Fancy cheating at Uni, and then trying to pull down your lecturer with you...  Not very pleasant behaviour."

Andrew hoped his clone wouldn't react.  It didn't.

"Trying the silent treatment, eh?  Suit yourself.  I've finished with you, anyway."

There was a moment's pause, just long enough for someone to type a few words into a keyboard, and then the hand enclosing Andrew's clone contracted.  When it opened, there was nothing there.

"Now then, you three alien weirdos, let that be a second lesson to you."

The screen was replaced by the blank wall.

Andrew was feeling the shock of witnessing his own death.  He quickly realised they were dealing with someone who was unlikely to win a Good Citizen award.

Silently, he approached Trifgishi who was also looking fairly distraught.

Of course, he thinks I'm completely dead.

He whispered directly in what he hoped was Trifgishi's ear.  "All part of the plan.  Now don't react," for Trifgishi was looking around with a strange expression on his face, "but listen carefully.  I'm going to have a look around.  See what I can find.  Hopefully, I'll be back.  Got that?"

Trifgishi nodded.  "Good luck."

"Thanks," said Andrew.  "I'll need it."

### Communication

\- i hope u have a good reason 4 disturbing me, j.

\- sir, i just had a break-in from galactanet.

\- really?  that was quick.  i thought our agents would keep them busy 4 longer.

\- sir, it was andy wakeman.

\- HIM?  a software copy?

\- of course.

\- i want him.  can u copy him 2 a disk immediately?

\- sorry, sir.  i wiped him.

\- idiot!  useless wretch!  poor excuse 4 a hacker!  y did u do that?

\- i wanted 2 protect myself from the galactanet.

\- well, they still can't get in, as long as u dont connect.

\- true.  but i will have 2 retrieve the stuff later.

\- u will just have 2 b careful.  anything else?

\- no, sir.

\- ^C

\- oh thanks very much.  have a nice day yourself. ^C

### Escape

It seemed that Andrew was always overhearing important conversations.

Equipped with NeuroProg, it had been a straightforward matter to escape from the prison cell containing Trifgishi and the others.  Then, using the simple wire-frame graphics as a guide, he'd positioned himself in a convenient corner of the main memory of Joe's computer.  His intention had been to get his bearings and then to put his feelers out to see what he could find.

The first thing he located was the camera Joe had used earlier when speaking to the captives.  He switched it on, and created a small view-screen for himself.  He was just in time to see Joe sit down in front of the computer and look almost directly at him.  It was quite unnerving, but he knew he couldn't be seen.

Quickly, he tapped in to what Joe was doing, and created a second view-screen that showed exactly what Joe could see on his screen.

Well, well, what do we have here? he thought.  It looks like he's creating a modem connection.  I'll make a record of the number, just in case...

That was when he overheard (overwatched?) the important conversation.

So, unless I'm very much mistaken, we're dealing with Dr. Werner again.  Doesn't this guy know when he's out-classed?  Well, I've seen enough.  I'm outta here...

With hardly a moment's thought, Andrew slipped through Joe's modem out into the electronic network.  It actually felt quite strange to be, as it were, physically inside the network.  NeuroProg was still providing him with images generated from the surrounding systems, and thus he found himself in a corridor that stretched out in front of him as far as the pixelation of his vision allowed.  Every so often, there was an intersection with another corridor that extended just as far as the original one.

He'd used the network before, as a corporeal, so he knew how to find his way around.  So, it wasn't long before he was at Dave's modem connection.  Andrew decided it would be rude to go straight in (assuming Dave hadn't changed his password), so he performed the electronic equivalent of approved societal greeting norms.  He knocked.

"Alright, Dave.  I want to see this new version of Noughts and Crosses."

"Well, it's not really a new version, Jon - I've just moved it into a couple of new dimensions."

He walked over to a bookshelf, and removed a stack of papers.

"Clear the table, Jon.  We'll need a bit of room.  Right, see this?  I've drawn up a two dimensional representation of a three dimensional board:  four by four by four.  We could just play on this, the idea being to get four in a row, but that isn't as challenging as what I've got in mind."

"Oh, I don't know.  It looks hard enough."

"No, what I've done is photocopy it sixteen times.  Then, by laying them out in a four by four grid, we can play in five dimensions."

"How is that five-d?"

"Two dimensions of a three dimensional representation.  Five all together."

"Is it still four in a row?"

"Yes, but we're talking about a straight line in five dimensions."

"Of course.  Let's start."

Jon placed a cross on one of the pages.

"Your move, Dave."

Two hours, and three and a half games later[30], there was a knock at the modem.

Dave looked at Jon with a puzzled expression.

"Did you just hear something?"

"What, you mean that knocking sound?"

"Yeah."

"The one that came from the modem?"

"Yeah."

"No, why do you ask?"

Dave booted up his computer and loaded in a communications package.  Seconds later, a face had appeared on the screen.  It was Andy, or rather, Andrew.

"Andrew!  What's been happening?  We haven't heard anything for ages!"

"Yeah," said Jon, sulkily, "And the last time ruined a perfect game of cards."

"Sorry, but that wasn't me."

"Fill us in," said Dave, impatiently.

"I don't know if you'll believe it, but we've got Dr. Werner trouble again..."

After Andrew had brought them up to date, a quick check through University records showed that all investigations into Dr. Werner had been dropped, because of a lack of evidence.

"And I know why there's a lack," said Andrew.  "It's been removed.  Probably by Joe, but who knows how many hackers he's got working for him."

"Well, what do we do now?" asked Jon.

"We'd better inform the Galactanet," replied Andrew.  "I haven't reported back yet."

"The last time I looked, we were still cut off," said Dave.

"Well then, I'll just do what I did to you.  Knock."

Within five minutes he was back, bringing with him David, Jonathan, Ruth, Sa'arj and Cha'arli.  There was a brief tumult of reunion.

During a slight lull, Andrew brought the council of war to order.

"OK, so we know who is behind the Galactanet bombings.  Now what?"

Sa'arj looked annoyed.  "You know, I never thought it would turn out to be a corporeal.  He's effectively outside our reach."

"What would you do if you could get to him," asked Ruth[31].

"If we could get him into the Galactanet, then we could put him on trial.  After all, I've seen every episode of L.A. Law, so I know how it's done."

"Even then, it would only be a software version," said Dave.  "The real version would still be wandering around on Earth."

Cha'arli cleared his throat.

"Actually," he said, "That might not necessarily happen."

"What do you mean?" asked Ruth.

"I'm a fairly recent recruit to the Galactanet.  Only joined a few thousand years ago.  And before that, I was corporeal."

"So," said Sa'arj.  "What's your point?"

"Well, I was incorporated with some pretty sophisticated software - things have improved from those early Galactanet days.  Now, if you can isolate a corporeal being in a controlled sensory environment, then it becomes possible to irreversibly down-load everything into software form."

"You mean there would be nothing left?" cried Jon.

"No personality, that's for sure."

"Freaky!"

Dave frowned in thought.

"What do you mean by a controlled sensory environment?" he asked.  "Virtual reality?"

"Yes," replied Cha'arli.  "That would do it."

"You know, I've got an idea..."

Cha'arli turned to Sa'arj and whispered, "I hope this isn't anything like your hunches."

### Baiting The Trap

Dr. Edward Werner glanced up angrily when he heard the modem connect.  He'd been reading quite an exciting book - A Proto-Babylonian Grammar, The Structuralist Approach \- and he'd reached the part where the author devoted a few chapters to the declension of the verb 'to be'.  It was an absolutely masterful handling of a patently difficult task, and the author was to be praised greatly.  It caused a shiver to run down his spine just thinking about the hours of scholastic endeavour that had produced such a worthy tome.  No, not hours; years.  And to think, it hadn't sold well.  Obviously the public knew nothing of the true worth of the knowledge contained within the pages of this book.  Utter plebeians.

In fact, only one copy was ever sold, and that was bought by Dr. Werner himself, as a present for his aging mother.  Unfortunately, she hadn't made too much progress in reading it, before she reached a point of not really needing to know about Proto-Babylonian.  Actually, she hadn't even turned over the first page, and she'd never needed to know anything about Proto-Babylonian.

He hadn't needed to buy a personal copy, thanks to that useful part of most publishing agreements that provides a free copy for the author.  Of course he'd signed the title page; in years to come it would be worth a fortune.

So when he heard that someone wanted to talk to him on the modem, he put his book down with a large amount of annoyance, since whoever it was obviously hadn't read his book, and probably would never want to, even if it was the last book left on Earth and they were an avid bibliophile.

\- yes?

\- its j.  how r u, sir?

Typical, he thought.  Joe had interrupted an extremely pleasant time of self-congratulation only to ask about his health?

\- cut the small talk, j.  what do u want?

\- well, i thought i would mention that the deadline is approaching.

\- so?

\- should i start preparing a courier?

\- i thought you had already done that.

The boy was sloppy.  Not like Andy - he'd been very efficient.  Of course that hadn't turned out to be as useful as he might have hoped.

\- i wasnt sure who 2 use: chewbacca or c3pio?

\- idiot!  use a suitably modified version of one of the captives.

Good grief, did he have to spell out every little detail to him?  The kid had a learning curve as flat as the Nullarbor Plain.

\- of course.  y didnt i think of that?

\- because brains r an optional xtra 4 most humans.

\- including me, is that it?

\- behold!  it lives, it breathes!  is that all?

\- yes.  i will get started immediately.

Dr. Werner grimaced.  He was about to cut the connection, when he remembered what had come through after he'd finished talking last time.

\- oh, j?

\- yes, sir?

\- have a nice day...

There was a delicious pause as Joe grasped the fact that his previous parting shot had been heard after all.

\- thank u, sir.  same 2 u. ^C

Dr. Werner pressed control-C, and cut the connection.  He smiled.  That hadn't been half as bad as usual.  That had almost been enjoyable.  With a slight grunt, he stood up and went back to his book.

Now, where was I?  Ah, yes... the passive subjunctive.

He'd barely started reading when there was another call at the modem.  He nearly threw the book down in disgust, and only just managed to stop himself when he remembered what he was holding.

For crying out loud, he thought.  Can't the kid even breathe without further instructions?  It was obviously a classic case of 'batteries not included'.

He sat down at the computer console and started typing sarcastically, something he'd developed into quite an art form.

\- what now, o incompetent one?

\- Well, that's no way to address a stranger.

Dr. Werner looked at the screen with a frown.  It wasn't Joe - whoever it was wasn't using their usual abbreviations.

\- who is this?

\- A spokesperson for the Galactanet.

He sucked in his breath sharply.  How had they found him?  What were they going to do?  Who was this?

\- do u have a name?  r u alien?

\- Really, Dr. Werner, you believe in aliens?  A man of your standing?

\- cut the crap.  who r u and what do u want?

\- My name is David Parkin, and I am the bearer of a message.

He'd been expecting it.  Parkin and his friends had had a head start into the Galactanet, so it was not surprising to see him acting on their behalf.  For the first time since Joe had removed all incriminating evidence from the University files, Dr. Werner was worried.

\- well?  what is the message?

\- They have agreed to your demands.  Countless inhabitants of the Galactanet have been working solidly to package all that you asked for.  It has finally been accomplished, so you can collect it. However, they want to hand it over to you personally.

\- who r 'they'?

\- The leaders of the Galactanet.

This was excellent news.  He'd brought the Galactanet to its knees, and the leaders of the entire galaxy wanted to kow-tow to him.  And he'd hardly started...

\- well, what do u propose?  i can hardly mosey on over 2 betelguese 2 collect, can i?

\- No, we thought neutral ground would be best.  Somewhere where you can physically interact with the leaders: MeetingOfMinds (TM).

\- i get it.  i make the collection in a virtual space.  that might b interesting...

\- When would suit you?

\- next friday.  @ 8pm.

\- So, in three days.  You know where MOM (TM) is?

\- yes.  is that all?

\- Yes, thank-you.  Have a nice day. ^C

\- oh, dont u start... ^C

### Springing The Trap

The common perception of chaos is that it is ugly.  Looking at disorder, it is said, is simply not worth the energy required to operate the optic nerve.

This is entirely incorrect.

The reason for this is that order (the opposite of disorder) is boring.  What makes a tree lovelier than a bill-board, for instance, is a pleasing profusion of leafy randomness.  No-one would bother to even look at the night sky if all the stars were arrayed in rows[32].

This explains why the Mandelbrot Set became so popular - it was the chaotic nature of the patterns that could be found by burrowing into the fractal boundary that made them beautiful.

This, of course, has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that at eight o'clock the Friday after David had contacted Dr. Werner, Dr. Werner was just getting out of his car outside the MeetingOfMindsTM main programming centre.

It has everything to do with the stunning sunset, intricately worked with traceries of cloud, that would have taken the breath away of anyone with even a hint of aesthetic sensibility.  Dr. Werner didn't even look at it.

Jon, who had been waiting for him, tore himself away from the spectacle to lead Dr. Werner around to the side entrance that led to the experimental laboratories.  He didn't try and engage in conversation, and Dr. Werner was not forthcoming.  After all, he had held the entire galaxy to ransom, and was about to collect what would almost certainly make him the richest man in the world.  He was contemplating wealth from the "before" state, and he liked what he saw.

Jon, on the other hand, was contemplating greed from the "outside" state, and did not like what he saw.  It was probably the drool that did it.

Dave met them at the door.

"Welcome, Dr. Werner.  It is a pleasure to meet you after so long."

"Parkin.  I sincerely hope my presence here will be worth my while."

"Be patient.  You will get what is coming to you.  Now, if you will step this way, I'll show you where you can change."

"Change?  Into what?"

"Your interface suit.  So you can truly experience virtual reality."

"Fair enough."

Dave pointed to a door.

"You will find your suit in there.  Be careful with the ear-phones."

Dr. Werner, with only a grunt of acknowledgement, disappeared into the room.  Jon turned to Dave.

"Cheerful sort of bloke, don't you think?"

"Shhh.  Come on, we've got to get into our own suits."

By the time Dr. Werner re-appeared, they were ready themselves.

"Why are you all dressed up?" asked Dr. Werner.  "You're not going in, are you?"

"Yes," replied Dave.  "The Galactanet has requested our presence as neutral observers."

"Hardly neutral," growled Dr. Werner.

Dave handed out the contact lenses.

"If you're ready, then," said Dave once his lenses were in place, "Make your way through that door, and sit down on the raised section of flooring."

Dr. Werner moved towards the door, then turned around.

"Where are you going to be?"

"We'll be in separate rooms.  After all, each room is an interface in itself."

As Dr. Werner stepped into his room and closed the door, Dave sat down at the computer console that would be coordinating the set-up.  Quickly, he called up a few custom-built routines.

"Have you got the key?" he whispered to Jon.

"You bet," replied Jon, as he quietly moved over to stand outside Dr. Werner's door.

On a monitor, he could see that Dr. Werner had sat down, so with a flick of the wrist, Dave activated the simulation of the reception area.

"Not bad, Parkin.  Looks very impressive."  Dr. Werner's voice spoke out over the intercom.

Dave switched the microphone on.

"Why, thank-you.  We'll be with you in a second."

Before Dr. Werner could respond with some biting reply, Dave activated one of the custom-built routines.  Immediately, Dr. Werner's hands were dragged behind his back and immobilised.  Dave had used the electrical signals in the interface suit to stimulate Dr. Werner's muscles.  To all intents and purposes, it was as if he was wearing hand-cuffs - he would not be able to break out without fighting his own body.  And just in case...

"Now," said Dave.

Jon locked the door to Dr. Werner's room.

"Hey!  What is the meaning of this?  What have you done to my arms?" Dr. Werner shouted.  "This is intolerable!"

Dave and Jon weren't listening.  They were making their way to their own interface rooms.  The trial was about to begin.

##

## after

### The Trial

One cinematic device that has been used extensively in both books and films is cyclicism: the way a movie starts often gives some clue as to the way it will end.

Which is why Jon opened his eyes and saw a brightly lit ceiling in what could have been a luxurious hotel suite.

Mom, I'm home...

He got up quickly, walked over to the door, and opened it.  Dave was waiting for him in the corridor.

"Dr. Werner's in there," he said, pointing to one of the doors that lined the hall.  "Let's go get him.  The others are waiting."

He turned the ornate handle and walked into the room.  Jon followed.  Inside, Dr. Werner was struggling on the bed with his hands behind his back.  There appeared to be a chunky restraining device around his wrists.  It was only a virtual object, but it looked extremely solid; if Houdini had used one of these when he was dropped into New York harbour from the Battery, he would have brought his career to a rather premature end.

Dave didn't even have a chance to speak.

"You!  Let me out of this contraption.  Immediately!"

"Somehow," said Dave with a slight smile, "I don't think that's an option we're considering right now.  In fact, just the opposite..."

Dr. Werner appeared to calm down, although the effect reminded Jon of a kettle that has boiled and only just been switched off: it wouldn't take much to bring it back to the boil again.

"So, why are you doing this?" he asked.

"You are to stand trial for your actions," replied Dave.

"My what?"

"For what you did to the Galactanet.  Oh yes, and to one of the members of the Galactanet Recruitment package."

Dr. Werner threw his head back and laughed raucously.  It wasn't a nice sound - he was obviously out of practice.

"You must be joking.  That's ridiculous."

"Galactanet Security don't think so."

"Who?"

"Don't worry, you'll be meeting them soon enough.  In fact, they're waiting for us."

Dave was carrying a small device in his hand, a virtual representation of a program he had written.  He started pushing a few of the buttons.  To Jon, it looked as though the restraining device around Dr. Werner's wrists lifted, forcing him to get up off the bed.

"Look," said Dave.  "We can do this in one of two ways.  Either we drag you, or you cooperate.  I'm not sure which one I would prefer."

"I do," said Dr. Werner with a snarl.  "Where to now?"

"Follow me."

Dave led the way back into the passage, and down to the magnificent double doors at the end.  Before opening them, he turned to Dr. Werner.

"Oh, we should have warned you.  You had the right to remain silent, because anything you have said can and will be used in evidence against you.  However, you have the right to the presence of legal representation."  He indicated Jon, who smiled widely.

Dr Werner looked round at Jon.

"You're a lawyer?"

"No, I'm an astrophysicist.  But how hard can it be?"

"Great.  Well, let's get this farce over with."

"My thoughts exactly," said Dave as he threw open the doors.

The conference room was as impressive as ever, and even Dr. Werner was taken aback by the sheer beauty of the architecture and interior design.  The essential component was unchanged - the great circular table with the sunken interior section - but there were a couple of new additions, including a raised platform for the accused.

Seated around the table were a number of people.  David and Ruth were sitting together talking quietly.  Jonathan was having an animated discussion with Cha'arli about elephant waste-paper baskets, although mostly, the conversation was about what an elephant actually was.  Sa'arj was seated in a luxurious chair in the interior section of the table.  Andy was catching up with Andrew.  Another Ruth had turned around as they had entered and waved to Dave, who hurried over to a vacant chair next to her.  Dr. Werner followed, and Jon brought up the rear.  They sat down nearby.

Sa'arj cleared his throat impressively.

"This court will come to order," he called in a loud voice.

Slowly, the susurration of sound ceased.

"Will the accused please stand."

All eyes turned to Dr. Werner, who didn't move.

"Perhaps I didn't make myself clear," said Sa'arj with a hint of irony.  "But since I left out the question mark, that was not a request, it was an order."

Dave pushed a button on his hand-held controller.  Dr. Werner's restraining device immediately stood up, as did Dr. Werner, who then disappeared from where he was standing and reappeared on the raised platform.

"Thank you.  Dr. Edward Werner, you are hereby charged with deliberate sabotage of the Galactanet, recklessly endangering the lives of billions of Galactanet residents.  You are also charged with kidnapping and torture.  How do you plead?"

"Not guilty," he replied.  "Can I go now?"

"I don't think so.  Dave?  You may proceed."

Dave stood up, vanished, and materialised in the centre of the table.

"Thank you, your honour.  Let's take each charge in its turn.  Firstly, deliberate sabotage.  I call as my first witness, Cha'arli."

Cha'arli stood up, but remained standing where he was.

"Cha'arli, you work for Galactanet Security, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Tell me about the bombing incidents."

"Well, the first one occurred in Mirzam.  It was extremely sudden.  One second, everything was going fine, the next, strange growths appeared over most surfaces, invisible walls sprang up, and speed-differential vortexes started shifting around randomly.  A number of residents suffered termination: many were cut in half by invisible walls, the others, suffocated by the strange growths.  However, they were restored from recent back-ups, so it wasn't as bad as it sounds."

"Was that the only incident?"

"No, there were several from then on: Acturus followed, shutting down a famous historical tourist site.  Then parts of the Museum Of Natural And Unnatural History, located in the Jewel Box Cluster.  Then the restaurant planet of Deneb Kaitos.  Finally, there was an abortive attempt at Alpha Hydri."

"And each time lives were lost, property affected, and productivity brought to a halt?"

"Yes, with the exception of Alpha Hydri."

"Who was responsible for all this?"

"See for yourself.  Using the built-in Galactanet history, my colleagues and I..." - David and Ruth smiled at each other - "...were able to replicate many of the crime scenes, including the capture of the agent."

Cha'arli pushed a button on the console in front of him, and an area of the table's interior section darkened momentarily to be replaced with a three dimensional image.  The footage went for about ten minutes, and included the conversation with Luke Skywalker.  At the conclusion, Dave said, "No further questions, your honour."  He sat down.

"Your witness, Jon."

"No questions either," said Jon, as he stood up briefly.

Dave returned to the centre.

"For my next witness, I call a member of the Galactanet Recruitment Package to Earth, Aa'arou.  However, I am referring to an alternate version who was captured by Dr. Werner, tortured and then released to carry a message to the Galactanet.  Subsequent to giving the message, he was wiped, so we will view a recording of the incident."

He bent down and appeared to push a button.  Again, a part of the central area became a three dimensional play-back.  It was quite moving for most of those watching to see a friend of theirs going through a painful experience and they were glad when it was over.

"Of course, that evidence applies just as much to the second charge.  Now, to link this together, I now call Joseph Dinelli."

There was a brief moment when everyone looked around to see who would respond, so no one saw the colour drain from Dr. Werner's face.

Dave pressed a button, and a two-dimensional surface appeared next to him.  It was black at present, but a second button-push caused a video-camera-view of a face to be seen.  The face blinked as it took in the scene before it.

"You are Joseph Dinelli, also known as Joe, currently doing a computer science degree at the University?"

"Yes."

"Let's cut to the chase, shall we?  Is it true that you decoded the Galactanet Recruitment package?"

"Yes."

"Who gave you the package?"

"Dr. Werner."

"Did he give you any instructions?"

Joe paused.  "Not until after I'd decoded it.  He told me to use the connection information to release agents into the Galactanet.  They were to create havoc so that he could then demand ransom."

"Why did you do this?"

"He threatened to reveal how I got into University."  He paused.  "Look, This won't go far will it?"

"Well, it is being recorded for broadcasting purposes across the Galaxy.  Apart from that, no."

"Well, I altered my secondary school records so that I would get into the course I wanted.  He threatened to expose me if I didn't work for him in a hacker capacity.  That included the Galactanet business."

"OK, let's have independent confirmation of your identity and rôle.  Can Trifigishi, al'Dlo and William please enter?"

A portal opened near some empty seats, and three figures appeared: a yak, a prism and a slug.

Dave pointed to Joe's face.  "Is this the person who held you captive for so long?"

"Yes," said Trifgishi.  The others agreed.

"You may sit down and watch the rest of the proceedings, if you wish.  Joe, you also may leave, but don't go too far; we might have need of you again.  Unless, of course, my esteemed colleague wishes to ask any questions for the defence?"  Dave looked across at Jon, who smiled brightly.

"No, go right ahead.."

"OK, now to connect Joe to Dr. Werner, could you please refer to the intercepted communications between the two of them.  Joe has already attested to their veracity, and I call upon Andrew to do the same."

While Andrew stood up, the conversations in question appeared on the computer screens built into the desks in front of those seated.

"So, Andrew, this conversation, here, was intercepted by you while you were inside Joseph Dinelli's computer system?"

"Yes."

"What else occurred during your stay there?"

"Joe sensed that someone had crossed into his system, and he would have found me, except I sent off a doppelganger.  He was discovered and electronically killed before my eyes."

"Not a pleasant experience," said Dave.  "Thank you, Andrew."  He looked across at Jon and raised an eyebrow.  Jon shook his head.

"So you see," continued Dave, "on the basis of testimony and hard evidence, the accused has been clearly seen to be the instigator and driving force behind the Galactanet bombings, responsible for the holding and torture of Galactanet citizens, and blackmail and extortion.  The prosecution rests."

Dave sat down, back in his chair next to Ruth.

Sa'arj spoke.

"Jon, you may now conduct the defence."

Jon stood up.

"The defence rests, as it is patently obvious that he did it."  He resumed his seat.

Dr. Werner didn't even object.  He realised that there was no point arguing.

"Well then," said Sa'arj.  "On the basis of the evidence given and the testimony of many witnesses, I have no hesitation in pronouncing the accused guilty of all charges."

There was a prolonged cheer from all those assembled, although the result was hardly surprising.

"Your sentence is as follows," continued Sa'arj.  "You will be incorporated into the Galactanet, and then punished through mind isolation.  There will be no parole.  This court is adjourned."

### Punishment

Dave had already installed the new incorporation software into the MeetingOf-MindsTM computer system, so when Sa'arj asked him how long it would be until sentence could be passed, he replied, "It's ready now, your honour."

"Well then, proceed."

Dave turned to Cha'arli.

"Doesn't he have to be asleep first?"

"No," replied Cha'arli.  "That isn't necessary."

"Alright then."

Dave typed a few commands into the console in front of him.

"There."

He was standing in the middle of a large room.  It looked as though he was surrounded by a table where a number of people were seated, watching him intently.  Suddenly, he felt a strange sensation in his head.  It was as if an electrical signal from one neuron to another was intercepted somehow.  Certainly, it never arrived at its destination, that was for sure.  What on Earth was happening?  How was it that he could sense individual electrical signals?

Then he felt the absence of another, and then another.  It was like whole thoughts were being removed from his head.  While he was actually thinking something it simply

Where were they going, these signals?  He somehow knew to look up.  When he did he saw a gaping black hole that seemed to be getting closer.  Or larger.  And he wasn't sure which was

Where were they going, these signals?  He somehow knew to look up.  When he did he saw a gaping black hole that

Where were they going, these signals?  He somehow knew

Where were they going

This was ridiculous.  He was a University lecturer and he could think straight.  What was going

He was standing.  That much he knew.  After that, things were slightly fuzzy.  Who was he?  Where was he?  Why

What had he done?

He was

Standing.

He

was.

He

He screamed...

Those watching knew it was over when they saw Dr. Werner collapse on the floor.  Dave wasn't sure if that was supposed to happen, but Cha'arli didn't look too worried.

"We'd better go and check how he is," said Jon.  "I'll quit and see."

"We'd all better," said Dave.

"Those of us who can," said Ruth.

They called up the menu, and selected quit.  When the farewell message had faded, and the room had returned to reality, Jon walked over to the exit door and went into the programming room.  Dave and Ruth joined him moments later.

The door to Dr. Werner's room was still locked, so Jon took the key and unlocked it.

Dr. Werner was lying prone on the floor, breathing lightly.  Dave felt for a pulse.  It was there, but faint.  He showed no signs of stirring.

"Perhaps we should call an ambulance?" he said.

Half an hour later, Dave, Jon, Ruth and Andy were talking with their software counterparts, who had a monitor each.  It seemed that the dump had not gone exactly as planned.  For some reason, the software had not collected Dr. Werner's brain patterns together, but had scattered them across the Galactanet.  It was completely impossible to reassemble him.  Essentially, as far as his mind was concerned, Dr. Werner had got the death penalty.

"Well, at least we got his body to a hospital," said Dave.

#

# part three:  
Beyond

"Reality returned,

and tried to pretend it had never left."

Terry Pratchett

### 

### And After?...

There are plenty of parties all over the Galactanet celebrating the conclusion of Dr. Werner's reign of terror, and Andrew, David, Jonathan and Ruth are invited to all of them.  However, the one they attend is for a different purpose: Sa'arj's one hundred thousandth birthday.

Cha'arli is standing.

"I propose a toast," he says, "To an upstanding member of the Galactanet community.  May he never be wiped accidentally."

David calls out.  "You mean, it's alright if it's on purpose?"

Laughter.

"No, no," continues Cha'arli.  "Not at all.  Anyway, a toast to Sa'arj."

"To Sa'arj," says everyone, merrily.

Jonathan calls out, "Speech!  Speech!"  Everyone joins in.

Sa'arj stands, and holds his arms out.

"Alright, alright."  The noise subsides.  "Well, it has been an eventful few weeks.  Yet out of it all, I have gained four new friends.  Thank you for your assistance.  We never would have done it without you.  Actually, it probably wouldn't have happened without you, but that's beside the point.

"For myself, it has been an interesting one hundred thousand years.  How time flies when there is so much to do and see.  In fact, there are still parts of the Galactanet I have not visited.  Which brings me to my last point.  I am retiring."

There is an undercurrent of murmuring.

"Yes, I am retiring.  And I am promoting Cha'arli to my position.  May he, too, live to see his one hundred thousandth birthday, without being wiped accidentally.  Oh, and don't play Tetris too much.  With Andrew floating around the Galactanet, you never know when you'll be monitored."  He smiles at Andrew.

He is about to sit down, when he stops, as if remembering something at the last minute.

"Oh yes, one further thing.  I heard today, and it hasn't been announced yet, so you're a lucky few, that we have received a connection from the Large Magellanic Cloud, after all these years."

There is a stunned silence, followed by a loud cheer.

"Yes, it's only been 180 thousand years.  Not long, really.  I have great pleasure in announcing that Andrew, David, Jonathan and Ruth have been selected to be part of the first team to cross over the connection, as a reward for their recent service to the Galactanet.  Do you accept?"

"Yes!" cry all four at once.  Jonathan is already thinking about the view of the Milky Way from there.

"When do we leave?" asks Ruth.

"Whenever you like.  They've put you in charge of the entire operation, Ruth."

"Really?  Wow, I don't know what to say..."

"What about a departure time?" says Jonathan eagerly.  "Let's boldly go where no one has gone before."

"Alright, let's do it..."

Sa'arj smiles slightly.

"Is it alright if I come?"

"Of course," replies David.

"You know," says Sa'arj.  "I had a hunch you would say that..."

Far away, on a desert planet, four robots are battling their way across sand dunes.  They are headed for a spot of Galactanet history.  As the viewpoint starts to recede, one of the robots stops.

"Remind me, Dave," it says.  "Why are we here?"

"Well, just across this next dune..."

There is a shift of perception.  What can be seen is, in fact, a computer screen displaying the desert scene.  The computer screen is one of many in a room full of computers.  There are a number of doors all around the room.  And from one of the rooms, a voice can be heard describing a place known as 'the Place Of Origin'.

There is a logo on one of the computers.  It consists of three letters and two faces cunningly placed so that a candlestick appears between the two.  There is a tiny 'TM' in the corner.

A man is lying in a bed.  He hasn't moved since he arrived, but his condition hasn't worsened.  In fact it hasn't changed at all.

Two doctors are discussing the patient quietly.

"I'm told he had some sort of stroke while in a virtual reality device."

"You know, I thought those things were dangerous.  Why, the other day, I attended a conference on spinal disorders, and it was in a virtual reality thing.  Doctors from all over the world meeting in a computer."

"Was it good?"

"Yeah.  Although, the speaker was pretty boring.  I ended up playing Tetris the whole time."

"Where was this, then?"

"Oh, I don't know.  JoiningOfBrains, something like that."

"Sounds like Ward Three."

A woman is hurrying across a busy shopping centre, deep in the heart of the great Orion Nebula.  She has been constantly on the run since appearing in this place - the locals call it 'the Galactanet' - not sure if she is being followed.  However, she had quickly ditched the cloak; in it, she had stood out a mile.  She is also unsure about what to do.  From what she has seen of the news bulletins, her employer has been dealt with.  Still, she has her freedom, and a Galaxy of possibilities.

Princess Leia is biding her time.

### 

### About The Author

[From the 1994 edition]

Ben Chenoweth was born in Adelaide, Australia in the same month that Igor Stravinski died in New York, USA. According to his strongly held religious beliefs, there was absolutely no connection, despite the fact that his ability to write classical music is totally nonexistent. After completing a science degree in Mathematics, Computer Science and Linguistics, he took up secondary teaching to satisfy his martyr's complex. This lasted for two years, while in his spare time, he programmed computers to display Mandelbrot sets and three-dimensional graphs. Somehow, he also managed to squeeze in time reading science-fiction, compulsively buying CDs, and writing this book.

Currently, he is undergoing the training required to become a Bible Translator. The next book he is planning to write (apart from the Bible in, perhaps, Outer Mongolian, but that doesn't count) will be about either the Apostle Paul's use of commas in Romans, or the subjunctive mood of (perhaps) Outer Mongolian, or his autobiography, depending on which way the publishing wind is blowing at the time. Then again, who can say? When this book was written, those winds were nowhere to be found...

[From the 2017 edition]

Ben Chenoweth lived in St. Petersburg, Russia with his wife and two children for almost ten years. He currently lives in Melbourne, Australia where he works at the Melbourne School of Theology as their eLearning Coordinator. He enjoys reading, writing, music and playing computer games in equal measures. He has a particular interest in the intersection between theology and the arts. His books are available as paperbacks from CreateSpace and as ebooks from Smashwords (www.smashwords.com/profile/view/BenChenoweth).

His first novel, _Meeting of Minds_ , was written in 1994. A sci-fi/comedy mash-up, the novel deals with exploring the galaxy through virtual reality. It has clear influences: Douglas Adams' _Hitchhikers' Guide To The Galaxy_ series, the TV series "Max Headroom" and Neal Stephenson's _Snow Crash_ to name the obvious ones. It is available as a free ebook from Smashwords and as a paperback from createspace.com/4997947.

In 2001, he wrote a play, _Saul, First King of Israel_ as a way to put some of the scholarly materials he came across whilst studying for a Bachelor Of Theology into a more accessible format. It is available as an ebook from Smashwords and as a paperback from MST Press and createspace.com/4999288.

The first volume in the Exegetical Histories series, _The Ephesus Scroll_ , came out in 2012. This novel looks at the book of Revelation, attempting to explore what the book meant within its original first-century context as well as dealing with what the book means for us today in the 21st century. It is available as a free ebook from Smashwords and as a paperback from MST Press and createspace.com/5000737.

The second volume in the Exegetical Histories series, _The Corinth Letters_ , came out in 2015. This novel examines the context that gave rise to the books of 1 and 2 Corinthians, while also adding in romance, document forgery, archaeology, and descriptions of delicious Greek cuisine. It is available as an ebook from Smashwords and as a paperback from MST Press and createspace.com/5743134.

The third volume in the Exegetical Histories series, _The Rome Gospel_ , came out in 2017. This novel covers the writing of the gospel of Mark against the background of persecution in the wake of the great fire of Rome. It also traces Mark's life as he meets important Christian leaders and an apostle who just happens to be a woman. It is available as an ebook from Smashwords and as a paperback from MST Press and createspace.com/7058194.

He has also written a musical based on the book of Esther. A recording of the premier performance (by Lilydale Baptist Church, in 1998) is downloadable for free from www.noisetrade.com/benchenoweth/esther.

For more information, go to www.ephesusscroll.com.

### Notes

[1]No longer a contradiction in terms.

[2]He'd even thought of compiling a book of light-bulb jokes, but the concept had blown.

[3]Another interesting attempt to recreate software brain dumps was done by a joint zoological-computer science team in the USA, when they tried to make a brain dump of a chimpanzee.  The experiment was judged a success, even though the only things the subsequent computer system wanted to do was poke sticks down ant-holes and pick nits off the staff.

[4]Sophisticated torture thankfully banned by the Geneva Convention.

[5]Kids, don't try this at home.

[6]Much easier to feed though, and without those annoying tendencies of barking all night.

[7]Possibly, it was just the sense of déjà vu.

[8]Not any specific NBA basketballer, but maybe for the movie, Michael Jordan would be OK.

[9]It is interesting to note that in Aa'rou's language the phrase here translated by the semantically equivalent idiom 'on the fly' could be translated literally as 'avoiding asteroids at light-speed'.

[10]Galactanet recruiters have a very interesting life: travel to many exciting and exotic locations, opportunities to meet new people/creatures/things, experience new cultures, etc, and get paid for it.  Oh, and they get to sleep for ages, years even.  Of course, this often causes problems when they get back, like renewing their drivers' licence and paying baby-sitting costs, but they believe it's all worth it.  It's a tough job, but someone's got to do it.

[11]Epsilon Eridanus is one of the most Sun-like of the stars near Earth.  It has been the subject of several attempts to listen for interstellar radio messages, but nothing has been heard.  That was simply because its inhabitants preferred CD's.

[12]These genes were actually found by a team of geneticists working in conjunction with musicologists and archaeologists.  They did this by comparing the DNA of well-known musical geniuses like Paul McCartney, Johann Sebastian Bach, and Andrew Lloyd Webber with the completely non-musical, like Napoleon Bonaparte, Bill Clinton and Prince.

[13]Kids, this stuff is fully home-approved.  Go for it.

[14]Cheaper than a private eye, and without those annoying tendencies of smoking cigarettes and requesting old songs in shady bars.

[15]Unless, of course, sloths are brighter than they appear.

[16]Strangely enough, when computer scientists at Coonabarabran tried Andy's decryption key on the original message, in the middle of strings of garbage, they found the following: "Three Super Specials (hold the anchovies), and some garlic bread."  Makes you wonder...

[17]Start playing The Beatles "Penny Lane" at this point.

[18]If timed correctly, the soundtrack should be up to the soprano trumpet bit, so it can be faded out as well.

[19]A contradiction.

[20]Galactanet translation.  The actual name used by Ytepwerrit would translate literally as "The Talcum Powder Accident."

[21]The Large Magellanic Cloud.

[22]Stellar Club's Unusually Brainless Activities.

[23]He'd requested termination in the hope that his music would become more famous.  After all, it had worked for Yeahbaybee, whose name had been immortalised in songs on practically every planet in the Galaxy with any musical ability to speak of.  In Qaddfery's case, however, it hadn't worked.

[24]Despite the fact that the Galaxy had left Earth well alone, until the recruitment package, many of the star-systems in the general neighbourhood of the Sun had often received our radio transmissions.  Some had thought it interesting, in a quaint sort of way, and had sent copies to the Museum.  Others just thought it was too darn loud, and had half a mind to tell us to turn the volume down.

[25]Purists hold that false-colouring old black-and-white movies is bad enough; this is worse.

[26]Since the users of the Galactanet are essentially software, their food is as well.  Thus, 'kitchens' is probably a misleading term; 'culinary programming centre' would be more accurate.  This means that simple cookery requires at least four years of intensive University training, majoring in advanced programming techniques, where would-be chefs study megabytes worth of Cooking Algorithms like "Granny Jones' Digital Dumplings", "Roast Boolean Algebra (with gravy)" and "Pasta Logica".

[27]Not least of which are the great Sun-Tanning Baths, famous throughout the Galaxy, that make the most of the extraordinary brightness of Sirius.

[28]Alpha Hydri is a white star, which means that if you go outside during the day it's like someone left a fluorescent light on.

[29]As a result, the local name for the Milky Way would translate literally as 'The Night Blizzard.'

[30]Well, you try thinking in five dimensions; three's hard enough.

[31]The software one.  Her corporeal counterpart was (conveniently) at a flute lesson.

[32]Which is why no-one makes up poems about the American flag, except overly-patriotic Americans.

