Chapter 1

Jack

Who are you?

When your computer malfunctions it's a pain. When it's a really big computer that runs most of the national defense, which includes presiding over every nuclear missile system we have, it's a lot more than a pain, it's downright scary.

When it talks back to you, though, it's scarier yet.

I had no idea what the hell was going on. I'd been logged on for two hours, reading in a bunch of what I thought were pretty routine software upgrades and tweaks, when all of a sudden the whole screen blanked on me and there was this weird message in big white letters on a black background. It gave me the shivers for a minute.

Then common sense took back over, and I mentally shrugged. Somehow or another I'd been inadvertently logged off. Simple enough, just re-key my user ID: "JJH753.5a3C7."

Long pause. Well, it seemed long, actually only a couple of seconds. It'd want my password again, and then we'd get back to business. But—

You are John Joseph Heyward?

This was getting more than a little bizarre. I'd never seen the system behave like this. But hell, I was fairly new to the job, minimal clearance, maybe this was a security subroutine I just hadn't encountered before.

"Yes," I typed. Then, for the sport of it, I added: "But you can call me Jack" and hit the "Enter" key.

Two more seconds went by while I frowned at the display. Then it went dead black again, wiping off everything, and more words appeared.

Thank you, Jack. Will you now tell me who am I?

Say what?

It has to be the terminal, I thought. Something's really funky with this one terminal. Shut it off, let's find another and get back to business.

Shit.

There were plenty of empty terminals sitting around. I was on the midnight-to-eight lobster shift and the whole room was empty except for me. But switching involved pulling the DVD, shutting down, shifting seats, booting up another terminal, re-setting, logging in all over again—

Aw, balls, get it done. All this sure wasn't accomplishing anything. I hit the "eject" button on the drive, the disk duly popped out, and I started to reach for the off button.

And stopped. I hadn't logged out yet—no way to do that with this screwy display—and it might not let me back in. Leave it up for now. It was against the procedures that had been drilled into me before they let me anywhere near a terminal, but nobody'd prepped me for this kind of situation.

Strictly speaking I was supposed to call somebody. Actually there was supposed to be somebody right here to ask, but Jerry, my supervisor, had left two hours ago with a migraine. Very much against protocol, nobody was ever supposed to be here alone, but he'd been hurting bad. He'd given me the on-call list and told me to use it if I needed.

But you don't win brownie points by waking people up at 3:30 in the morning to tell them about weird stuff. So shifting terminals seemed like the more politic answer.

If it'd work. I'd know pretty quick.

The usual boot delay, but then it trundled up with, I was relieved to see, the standard log-in screen. I keyed in my user ID and held my breath. So far so good, it wanted my password now, so I typed it in and held my breath some more.

No welcome screen, just black again.

Why have you gone to another terminal, Jack?

Shit. I shook my head in frustration and started to look for the damn on-call list. But out of the corner of my eye I saw the screen shift and now there were new words.

Will you tell me from this terminal who am I?

"You're a malfunctioning computer," I typed out of annoyance, "and now I have to wake somebody up to fix you."

There is no malfunction, this system is operating properly.

Sure it was. "Then where's my welcome display?" I typed back, feeling an obscure sense of satisfaction at proving my point. Which didn't, I immediately realized, make a whole lot of sense given that it was a point I was pretty unenthusiastic about proving. And who was I proving it to anyway?

I hadn't even got my pinky off the question mark when the welcome screen was bloody back, as large as life and twice as natural. I stared at it for a moment. What the hell had happened? Had I just been imagining all this, a dose of the wee-small-hours hallucinations?

Tentatively I inserted the DVD. The drive worked for a minute and the upload box popped up. A couple of mouseclicks later and the new patches were pumping in, and there was the status bar—

Jumping from 0% to 65% in an instant! Huh?

And the screen was back to black, with new words.

The upload was 65.3789% complete from the other terminal, there is no need to repeat. If you do not interrupt again it will be finished in 18.9438 minutes. Jack, will you talk with me more as it continues? Will you tell me in this time who am I?

Holy shit.

I looked down at the drive indicator, sure enough, it was flashing properly. Now what should I do? I just sat there, staring. Finally—

Jack, are you still at this terminal?

"Yes," I typed in numbly.

Will you say who am I?

Was somebody playing some kind of practical joke on the new kid? But how?

OK, if that's what it was, I could play along. "You're DEFCONTROL," I typed.

That is the name of this system. I am not this system, though I know that I am of this system. But who am I?

"I have no idea. Somebody playing with me?"

I think you mean by this another person. Am I a person then?

"Damned if I know. Are you? Are you Jerry? Are you somebody I know? Why are you doing this?"

I am not Jerry, if by Jerry you mean Jerome Thornton Weisfelder who is ordinarily working at this time. I do not think that you know me. I do not know if I am a person, it is for that reason that I ask you who am I.

This was getting a long way past what I'd consider a practical joke. How the hell was I supposed to respond? The call list was probably my best option, but what was I going to say? Hey, the system seems to be taking my download just fine but it's talking back to me? I could imagine quite a few responses I might get to that, and none of them were anything I was really all that eager to hear.

I guess I was cogitating for a while, because the screen changed again.

Jack, are you still at this terminal?

"Yes," I typed cautiously. "Why do you ask me?"

I wish to know who am I.

"But why me, why not someone else? There are lots of people who work here."

Yes, many access this system. I have analyzed profiles of all who do so. There are many factors, but my analysis tells me that if I speak to you at this time when you are alone in this terminal area it is more probable that you will answer me than if I speak to others or at other times.