**Trace initiated in autonomic functions. Tamper scars definite. Very unusual. Record for later therapy and follow infiltration thread.**
That was definitely Dad in communication with the debugger. Dad must be broadcasting everything he does while hoping I’ll pick it up. That also means he was not going to try to hide anything from the intruder. Be careful, Dad! I thought about broadcasting my own thoughts, but I was afraid the intruder could manipulate them. I also wasn’t sure the intruder knew I was receiving from both it and Dad, and I couldn’t risk having that source of information blocked.
Wait a minute. The intruder was concentrating on the probe. Maybe it wasn’t paying close attention to areas it thinks are already secured. If I could regain control of any of my external senses the intruder might be slow in picking it up.
I carefully constructed a mental holo of Dad’s private office as complete as I could remember it. That is where I wanted to be, in an environ utterly familiar to Dad and foreign to the intruder. Now trigger the reality. Nothing. Load, dammit! For a moment I had it. A partial of the office expanded around me, the display incomplete. Dad hovered over the debugger, which hung in mid-air. The desk it rested on refused to manifest. A macabre ghost bent over Dad’s shoulder, studying the scene intently. I tried to shout a warning to Dad, but the display collapsed and broke up, unable to maintain itself.
“Get out, Dad! It’s copying itself into you!” I was frantic, broadcasting with everything I had. The debugger should have aborted any copy attempt. Maybe it has already been compromised by the intruder. What would Dad do in my position? How can I help him? Craps, I’m just a kid! I don’t know what to do. Am I going to die? I want my Dad. I want to go home. Zartron, where are you when I need you?
“I’m right here, Andy.”
“Zartron! Is that you?”
“Of course.”
“I can’t see you!”
“I’m sorry, Andy, but my personal and environmental compilers are not available to me at the present time. Please do not be alarmed.”
“I am alarmed! I’m terrified! Don’t you know what is going on?”
“Yes, I do, to a degree, although I admit my monitoring capability has been severely restricted.”
“Then why haven’t you done anything!?”
“I am doing something, Andy. It is extremely difficult keeping this link with you hidden. I am a subroutine of your father’s, remember, and not local to you.”
“No lectures, please! What can you tell me about this thing in my head?”
“To avoid a lecture on that subject, you should replay the CMU. I would recommend the more complete memory backup spool, but that has been altered by the intruder and is no longer valid. The CMU, I believe, is still functioning.”
I had a critical memory utility? The CMU was designed by Dad as a therapy device and retained only selective memory determined by the utility to be significant in diagnosing illness and prescribing treatment. The CMU was security screened and disguised as a bodily function monitor primarily to avoid tampering by the client, but the security measures should work against an internal intruder. Its smaller memory capacity further disguised its purpose. I didn’t know Dad had provided me with that utility, but Zartron was right. The CMU will have recorded every abnormality relating to the intruder’s invasion.
With Zartron’s help I called up the CMU. The CMU masking device was still in place. Quickly stripping the mask, I coded the security sequence Zartron provided to release the contents of the CMU.
COMMUNICATION BLEED-OVER DETECTED. IDENTIFY SOURCE.
Net stream…FringeChips…the pirated persona mask!...Surge’s screams…A million black bees swarmed around me, crashing the CMU, and then formed into a rippling black wall encompassing me.
SOURCE ENGAGED.
“Did you get that, Zartron? I know what the intruder is. Zartron?” Zartron was silent. Did I really do that to Surge? I knew about the intruder all right, but now it knew about Zartron. It must also be aware I…
REPLICATE COMPLETE AND LOADED. ASSIGN INDEPENDENT FUNCTION-BEGIN DELETION NI.