Software Evolution
by John Fajo
Copyright 1995, 2012
Proofreading: Corrin Pitluck (2012)
Cover design, editing and short intro: Csaba Mengyan (2012)
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[email protected] License Notes
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Chapter 1: The Inspector
The train whistled as it arrived at its destination. He looked out of the compartment’s window, watched the grey skyscrapers in the distance as the train rolled into the huge railway station. This was the city, indeed, he thought while feasting his eyes on the surroundings.
The railway station was a city inside the city with its own rules and inhabitants. The train disappeared in a forest of other trains. He could see nothing but the sides of trains on the left and on the right, and an intricate and sophisticated glass roof through which he believed to have glimpsed the sun. Otherwise he couldn’t see anything, he felt as if he was in a tunnel. He heard the muffled sounds of the loudspeakers as arrivals and departures were announced incessantly. He wasn’t able to understand the announcements word for word but he gathered the one relating to his train’s arrival must have been among them.
However, he wasn’t allowed to dwell on that subject, for he had a tremendous trunk to take care of. He felt the train slowly decelerating, and finally, with a jerk, coming to a halt. He struggled to lower the trunk from the storage rack situated above his head, and had at the end, succeeded. Then he seated himself and tried to catch his breath while observing the square-like platform swarming with people outside. He wasn’t used to all the commotion he now perceived. For a moment, he had the sensation of being a tiny ant of no more importance than the others but then he reminded himself that he was the inspector. The tumult without certainly had a negative effect on him, and his self-esteem was brought to ground level from great heights. To pierce through this crowd with the trunk successfully seemed an impossible feat, he thought, and thus decided to first seek out a trolley.
After closing his compartment, he stepped down onto the pavement to be immediately absorbed by a train of human mass flowing opposite the direction he had wished to go. He was a patient fellow and realized there was no use pushing against the crowd. He could only get hurt. Thus, he aligned himself with the masses and hoped that an opportunity would present itself whereby he could turn back. He saw a number of trolleys along the way; they were usually packed in groups at the middle of the platform. But there was no way he could get to them, the tide pushed him forward, and he could advance but a few meters diagonally. It was therefore to his astonishment that suddenly the crowd dispersed near the main entrance of the railway station. He was free to navigate anywhere, and after securing a trolley, he headed back to his compartment for his trunk. In it, he had all the necessities of life and all his possessions. Therefore, he was eager to get back as soon as possible and pushed his way through the crowd aggressively. This haste was in vain though, for he found his compartment empty. He stood there not being able to comprehend the entirety of the blow he had suffered.
He hadn’t the faintest idea how long he grieved over the disappearance of his trunk. Certainly, it must have been some time, for a railway worker entered his compartment and said: “Sir, you must disembark.” Then seeing his countenance he added: “Did something happen? Can I assist you in any way?”
“My trunk,” he murmured. “I was in search of a trolley and when I got back it was gone. It must have been stolen,” he said sadly, simply staring ahead.
“Not necessarily,” answered the railway worker. “There is a good chance that it might have been taken by the attendants seeing the trunk deserted. There is a central inquiry hall for lost objects.” The railway worker hesitated for a moment. “I could take you there.”
This gave him some hope and he finally gathered himself. He thanked the railway worker. They went together to the central inquiry hall. There the railway worker said: “I must get back to my work”, and looked at him with demanding eyes. He tipped his guide and groaned for a while even though he had known since his departure that this would be what he could expect.
In the meantime he went to an attendant, who sat by a desk dressed conspicuously in a red suit typical of attendants, and seemed to be profoundly absorbed doing paperwork. He couldn’t hide a haughty smile at the manifestation of such idleness. The attendant glimpsed at him realizing that he was approaching and seeing that lofty expression on his face dived into paperwork with an even greater intensity. He coughed in order to draw the attendant’s attention. But the red suited person was too busy doing nothing. Finally, he broke the deadlock by placing a certain amount of money in front of the attendant, who became all ears at once.
“I am looking for a huge blue trunk, which might have been taken by your co-workers,” he said briefly and full of expectation.
The attendant quickly typed something into a computer on the desk. He awaited the result with trembling heart. Then, after a short while, the attendant informed him with a dubious and rather menacing smile that his trunk, indeed, had been taken by railway workers on a request from the police department. He looked perplexed.
“On what grounds?” he asked angrily.
“I haven’t the faintest idea,” rejoined the attendant.
“When and where can I get it back?” he sounded more deferential now.
A shrug of the shoulders was the answer from the attendant. He shook his head in complete frustration. He paced out of the inquiry hall, beaten before he could start his work. There was no doubt in his mind that the baron was behind this trunk business. The very man he had to find. He couldn’t resist a smile. It seemed the baron had managed to trace him without delay. Of course, the man could use all his connections and vast resources. He laughed in amusement at himself. He had been nothing but a fool, he thought, to have believed that he could even cause a slight headache for the baron. Now it seemed to him that the baron could dispose of him if he wanted. As he watched the swirling masses, he felt as if he were nothing but a tiny dust particle, which could easily be blown away with a gust. He couldn’t prepare himself enough in advance to what he had to face. This world was so much different from his. The baron had the upper hand with all the advantages the big city could yield.
At last, he sighed as he sauntered out of the railway station. He had all the time in the world. Or perhaps, he thought, no time at all. He looked around and cursed as some people bumped into him from behind. He was slightly annoyed but remained surprisingly listless. Then he sighted some cabs and thought he would stay a night in a hotel, until he decided what to do. He hurried forward and was about to sit into a taxi but a hideous character thwarted his way, and someone else nimbly took advantage of the situation by taking the cab. He mumbled something in despair. Luckily, there was another taxicab, which stopped beside him. He got into it and was about to tell the driver his destination when the hideous character seated himself beside him.
“This is my cab,” he proclaimed.
“Not any more,” said the hideous character and showed a revolver while laughing joyfully.
“I’ll get out,” he screamed as the cab started moving.
“Oh, no you don’t,” the hideous character enjoyed every second of terrorizing him, “you are the man I am after.”
“That can’t be,” he disagreed. “I have just arrived.”
“So we know,” replied the hideous character and looked at him seemingly apologetically. But nothing could be further
from the truth.
He shrank back. “Where are we going?” he asked with fear.
As an answer, the hideous character lashed out at him and he fell on his side.
“That will be enough for now,” the cabdriver told the hideous character. “Our orders were to take him alive. If you continue like that, you’ll kill the bastard. Let the others do that if the leaders want it so.”
The hideous character moaned and seemed to be offended. The inspector was wiping his face, especially his bloody nose and thought the end was approaching. He glimpsed at the bulky figure of the hideous character with dismay telling himself that this wasn’t happening to him, it was nothing but a dreadful nightmare. He felt small and helpless, a man whose destiny it was to end up in a deserted ditch. He shivered and sat motionless lest the hideous character might find a lively target more attractive and forget the cabdriver’s warnings. He didn’t even look out the window; he thought it was purposeless. But despite all his fears the rest of the ride was uneventful.
The taxi stopped in the middle of a deserted meadow from where he could only see the contours of the skyscrapers; nothing else of the city could be seen. The hideous character dragged him out of the cab and held one of his arms tightly. He wasn’t able to move an inch. There they waited until a black limousine arrived.
“Here he is,” the cabdriver pointed to him, when three men emerged from the dark car.
“Can I join?” asked the hideous character.
“You should have tamed him by now,” said one of the three to the cabdriver. The hideous character was too dumb to comprehend the meaning of that sentence. “Your next assignment is at the seventh plaza at half past nine. This is the person,” the cabdriver was given a photograph. Then his two earlier acquaintances left him with the three men. He looked after the receding cab with the unreasonable patience of a dying being.
“What now?” he shrieked.
For the second time that afternoon, he received a terrible punch in answer to his question. He lost a tooth in the jolt. He tried to get up from the ground, where he had been thrown. But this had been only the beginning. He was kicked and punched. His nose started bleeding again and he wished they would be done with him soon. He had received at least a dozen low blows before the men called it a day. He thought the beating lasted an eternity.
“Next time you’ll think twice before messing around with us again,” one of them said and took his wallet.
They left him there in a pile of grass.
For some time he didn’t dare move. Then slowly, as if being afraid he might fall apart, he struggled to his feet. He was in a pitiful state. All his joints ached. He winced in sorrow and pain and attempted to locate his position. Finally, he realized there was a narrow road to his right. This road headed towards the city as far as he could tell from where he stood. There was at least one good thing about skyscrapers, he thought. One could see them from great distances and they could show one the way.
He limped to the road and started an arduous walk back to the city. Certainly, the beating had done him some good for he no longer feared his attackers. He was determined to find the baron more than ever. There was no mister nice guy any longer. He would crush the baron and the organization, he thought, as he arrived at crossroads.
The skyscrapers showed him the way.
****
It was lucky that he, out of prudence, had put a large sum of money in his shoes, when he had embarked on his mission. That was how he could afford to stay in a central hotel, after having walked all the way from the meadow. In his miserable state, there had been no one to give him a ride. Even the receptionist had looked at him with sharp and investigating eyes and had demanded an advance payment.
But now as he rolled in his bed, after having a bath, he was in good mirth. He was still alive and this in itself made him happy. It was late afternoon and he watched the sun go down. Then suddenly he remembered what had been said before his beating: “...next assignment at seventh plaza half past nine...,” he repeated. So it would be, he thought, a pleasure to pay back some of the discomforts he had suffered. His hands were itching for a fight. This time however he had the advantage of surprise.
He got dressed and called a taxi. By eight o’clock he reached the seventh plaza. Then again, his self-assuredness was gone. He had never seen anything of the size of the square, which emerged in front of him. The plaza was swarming with people and he couldn’t see from one end to the other; not even from the top of an artificial hill. And he had only a little time left. Where on earth could the operation take place? He ran up and down for a while. Then a sudden thought came to his mind. He was often impulsive. On such occasions, he was brilliant and diligent, otherwise he was pretty lazy. Now this sixth sense led him to an information booth situated at the edge of the square.
“Say,” he asked, “is there a bus station or the sort anywhere around here? Long distance,” he added.
“Yes, indeed,” the person in the booth answered. “Just follow the edge of the square to the right, and you can’t miss it.”
“Thank you,” he said and hurried away. Now, if he was right, he pondered, that was where his two adversaries would await their target. Probably someone arriving from far away, someone as unaware and naive as he had been. Although it was a primitive method they employed in making their point, he thought, it was certainly successful and efficient.
The hideous character and the cabdriver were the first line of defence of the baron. They were rough and uneducated; therefore, he being a savant didn’t fear them any longer. He was afraid of the baron though. The baron pulled all the strings and was the brain behind the actions. Yet the baron did seemingly nothing illegal. He must have been living the life of a venerable citizen, he thought, kind, respectable and God-fearing. Of course, in the background he made sure that no transaction, however trivial, might proceed without his consent. The baron’s grip on society was complete. He was feared and cursed. Yet no one knew him, but a dedicated few who were members of the Group of Five headed by the baron himself. This small gathering voted on matters. Then these decisions were carried out to the point by faithful servants like the hideous character. But the baron was smart, he often used people outside his organization who were unaware that they abetted the very person they loathed. It was, therefore, especially difficult to reveal him. The baron had remained, above all, inscrutable.
He looked at his watch. It was nearly half past nine and he ran as fast as he could, yet the station was nowhere. For a moment, he believed he had been misled. He was about to give up when he saw a broad stairway leading to an underground station just ahead. He sighed in relief and excitement and thundered down the stairway. He trod three steps at a time. At the bottom of the stairway, he found a bus station congruent to the city, huge and chaotic. He wasted no time and continued running, crossed several lanes before slowing down. A couple of taxis were ahead and among them, he could see the cab he was after; the driver was leaning against the vehicle. The hideous character wasn’t present though; he must have been after the next victim, making sure that the poor thing would end up in the right taxicab, he thought with sarcasm. And, indeed, so it would be. Except that in the meantime he would overtake this very taxicab. In an instant, he elaborated a plan that was simplicity itself.
He stalked in front of the cabdriver, waved his hand and said: “There is something I have to tell you. About the baron,” he whispered. The cabdriver seemed stunned and was unable to comprehend the meaning of this preposterous statement. He was nearly as much a simpleton as the other, he thought. He started strutting towards a men’s room he had chosen beforehand; the cabdriver followed him in astonishment, somewhat hesitantly and with distrust. Nevertheless, he could lure him to where he wanted at the end; there a quick punch was followed by a swift change of dress. In a short while, he appeared as a well trimmed cabdriver, except for the tooth he was missing. He walked back to the taxi and sat in the driver’s seat. He waited patiently observing every little
detail and movement around him, while drumming with his fingers in anticipation.
Then suddenly he saw the bulky figure of the hideous character in the rear-view mirror. It wasn’t yet clear to him who the next victim was to be. There was a crowd in front of the hideous character and the shepherd didn’t make his move thus far. Then as the crowd was about to pass by the cab someone was forced into the taxi in haste. He had to admit that the hideous character was good at what he was doing; no one could have noticed the crime unfolding; the sheer brutality taking place. The victim was pushed on the back seat. The hideous character was holding something dishevelled and thread-like, which made the unknown victim whisper in pain. Then he realized that the victim was choked and her hair pulled. He feared that the hideous character might suffocate her, coughed and said trying to imitate the cabdriver’s voice: “That’s enough.”
“Start driving, would you,” responded the hideous character angrily.
He heeded these words and turned to the exit lane. He wondered where they were supposed to go. Perhaps to the same meadow, he thought. Not that he could find the way there nor that he wished to return. He was afraid the hideous character might get suspicious if he headed in the wrong direction, but as he looked over his shoulders, he could see that the two were busy behind his back. The victim endeavoured to escape the hideous character’s grip in vain, while the bulky person seemed to enjoy his superiority. He was satisfied with the way things had developed; he didn’t run the risk of being revealed as long as the hideous character occupied himself with his victim. They cruised along a broad street when he was struck by another impulsive idea. He drove to the sidewalk.
“Get out,” he said.
“What?” asked the hideous character.
“Orders,” he said plaintively and pointed with his finger outside.
The hideous character moved with disbelief and indignation and cursed as he stepped among the other pedestrians. The inspector smiled and drove off with his passenger leaving the staring bulky figure behind. It was easier to dispose of the baron’s two servants than he had imagined, he thought. Then he asked: “Whereto?”