Chapter 1

Logan DeVry sat at his desk, propped on his elbow with the telephone handset against his ear. “I told you ... I used to be able to save the document. Now it says, permission denied.”

“When was the last time it worked for you?” the voice on the call asked.

“I can’t remember ... a couple of weeks ago, maybe?”

“Did you reset your password?”

“Yes I reset my password ... and I rebooted my computer. I’m still seeing that error.”

“We’ll send Alex up to look at it.”

“Thanks...” Logan slammed the handset into its cradle. Send Alex up ... right — but, what century before HE shows up? He turned toward his computer display and brought up the web browser.

“Logan?” he heard a voice behind him.

He turned around and saw a young woman aged in her mid to late twenties. Logan regarded her. She was of medium height, with straight shoulder-length brown hair. Blue-gray eyes regarded him from behind black-framed glasses. She wore an ankle-length, taffeta skirt and a light blue, long-sleeved blouse.

“I’m Alex Winter,” she said. “I came to look at your document issue. What is the problem?”

“The problem is I’m trying to save the document in DocArchive.” He clicked on an icon of a filing cabinet with a physician’s head mirror. “I go File, Import...” He clicked on a folder. “This is my desktop and it says, permission denied.”

“That’s because,” she explained, “we have instituted a new policy that sever-based apps are no longer permitted to retrieve files from desktops.”

Logan let out an exasperated sigh. “Why?”

“Because it’s a security issue. If you knew the ID of someone else’s desktop, you could use the app to copy their files. Some hacker who reached DocArchive could do the same.”

“Nice of you to notify us.”

“Oh, I think we did notify you ... an email was sent about two weeks ago.” Logan brought up his inbox and scrolled down a couple of weeks. “There,” she said, pointing.

“That came when I was on the road. I figured it was just the usual technology gobbledy-gook.”

“Some of the gobbledy-gook is important,” she replied sweetly in her soft, alto voice. “We created an import folder in DocArchive. You need to push your document there, and from there you can do the import. Do you have a document to archive?”

“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have placed the call in the first place,” he replied, testily. “This one, for example.”

“Right click, select Copy.”

“Okay...”

“Bring up your file explorer. Enter slash-slash ... P dash docarchive. No, back-slash; not forward slash.”

“Okay...”

“Navigate to the import folder; right-click and select Paste.”

“Okay...”

“Now, go into DocArchive and import from the Import folder ... There.”

“It seems an awful lot of steps to go through when I used to be able to just pick them up from my desktop.”

“Like I said — a security issue. Now that you have the import folder open, you can just drag and drop your documents.”

“How am I supposed to remember all this slash-slash crap?” Logan asked.

“You don’t have to — look...” Alex copied the network address for the import folder and then created a shortcut on his desktop. “Now, all you have to do is to drag and drop your files here. Try it.”

Logan selected another document, dragged it to the shortcut and dropped it. Then, he imported it into the application. “I guess ... that seems simple enough.”

“If you run into any problems, give us a call,” she replied.

“Thanks ... Thanks, Alex, for coming up to help me.”

“You’re very welcome, Logan,” she said sweetly. “Have a great day.” She gave him a little wave and headed toward the exit.

Logan watched her head out of the suite. He turned to another analyst. “Tom — who’s she? I haven’t seen her before.”

“One of Kyle’s technology gnomes,” Tom replied. “They hang out in the data center on five.”

“Right ... Did you know about this new DocArchive import business?”

“Sure ... it was in an email that circulated a couple weeks ago.”

“Did it make sense to you?”

“Sure. I’ve been using it that way ever since.”

“God, I must’ve come across like some ... petulant jerkwad. I’m afraid I get that way when I’m up against one of Kirk’s deadlines...”

“Actually you came across more like some over-entitled, arrogant luddite. If it were me instead of Alex I would’ve told you to read the instructions attached to the fuckin’ email.”

“ ... I just don’t get along with changes in technology,” Logan replied.

“So, you ARE a luddite.”

“I guess I am...”

Logan rode the elevator to the fifth floor. Carrying a small box wrapped in gold-colored foil he headed toward the suite with a sign that read, Walnut Street Technology. When he reached it, he saw it was dark within. A hand-lettered sign on the door read, “Technology moved to 13.”

Back to the elevator he strode and rode the car to the thirteenth floor. There he found another sign reading “Walnut Street Technology — Press bell to enter”.

Logan pressed the button. “Yes?” came a voice through the intercom.

“I have something for Alex Winter,” he replied. The door buzzed open.

A technician sitting near the door gestured to the left. “Alex’s is the third cubicle,” he said without looking up.

“Thanks. By the way — I thought the data center was on five,” Logan replied.

“It’s been outsourced,” the technician replied, “to some cloud somewhere. Saving a bunch of money.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Six months.”

Logan surveyed the room — it was a cubicle farm. Upstairs, where investments were made and clients entertained the desks were of walnut and the chairs leather. Here was utilitarian nylon. “Cheaper office space, too, I guess. You said third cubicle?”

“Yep. Third cubicle.”

Logan found a cubicle with a nameplate reading Alex Winter. He saw her staring at a computer display. Logan rapped on the doorway. “Alex?” She spun around, reaching for the mute button on her telephone deskset. She held up one finger and then pointed to the Bluetooth earpiece tucked behind one ear. “Sorry...”

Alex returned to her call. Logan leaned against the doorway until she finished. She turned to him and lifted the earpiece from her ear. “Hi, Logan,” she said. “More problems with DocArchive?”

“I came to thank you for being so patient with me yesterday,” he replied. “I don’t think my manners with you were ... all that great.”

“No need to apologize,” she replied.

“I also wanted to give you this.” He handed her the box.

“Oh, Logan — you didn’t have to ... which makes it more special...” She pried the lid off the box and regarded a half-dozen chocolates. “Thanks.”

“How long have you been with Kirk’s firm?” he asked. “Yesterday was the first I saw you.”

“About a month ... I don’t get too many chances to mingle with the Beautiful People upstairs. And, I’m not with Kirk’s firm. I’m a rat.”

“A rat?”

“A rent-a-tech ... contractor. I’m here on a two-year contract ... with a one-year option.”

Logan regarded some photographic prints pinned to the wall of her cubicle. “Nice photos,” he remarked. “Did you take them?”

“Yes, I did,” she replied.

“They’re very good. Do you ever show them?”

Alex shook her head. “No ... I do it for my own satisfaction.”

“Well ... They are very good. I dabble in photography myself ... but I’ve never come up with anything as good as these. Say — how would you like to take a walk with me down to Farley’s for lunch? It’s a nice day.”

“You want me to join you for lunch?”

“Sure. I like you, Alex; and I enjoy talking to people I like.”

She gestured toward the corner of her desk. “I’ll have to take a rain-check. I’m brown-bagging it today.” Her phone rang. “Excuse me...”

“I’ll call in that rain check later this week,” he replied. “Thursday?” Alex nodded, hooked her earpiece over her ear and answered her phone.

Logan held the door for Alex and she stepped into Farley’s tavern. “Table for two?” the hostess asked. “This way...”

“A word to the wise,” Logan said softly to Alex, “Kirk despises drinking during office hours.”

“So I had heard.” Alex sat across from Logan and opened her menu. “What’s good?”

“Everything. The Reuben is their specialty.”

“Sounds kinda heavy for me. Maybe I’ll try a salad.”

“How did you end up at Kirk’s?” Logan asked.

“I grew up on the West coast ... went to UCLA and studied computer engineering ... graduated in 2010. I took a year off to do some traveling; then I spent another year finding work, ending up in the I.T. department of Lowes and Harding. They were a big, regional bank...”

“With WERE as the operative word,” I remarked. “They were bought by Allied...”

“Right ... and I became redundant. I wasn’t there even a year so I was one of the first to get the boot. After about six months of looking ... and, desperation ... I landed a job at a temp agency. They had me supporting the desktops at Hennessey and Martin.”