[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
left a message. The man at the other end assured her that
someone would be over soon to collect their magazines and
microfilms. As usual, he also thanked her very much for her
help.
The library door opened just as Miss Jenson finished her
call. It was one of the students one of the regulars, although
she could not remember his name so she would have to call
77
him 'dear'. As she busied herself searching for the periodicals
on the scrappy hand-written list he gave her, Miss Jenson
hoped that they would send that nice Mister Gibson. So polite
and understanding.
The first chip to trigger into operation was at Hampstead. It
had been connected to the central processor of the output
control systems of the electricity substation. The program
encoded directly on to the chip began to execute, feeding data
directly to the processor. The processor initially ignored the
data as inconsequential; then after running diagnostics against
it to check there was no error condition, the main chip began to
listen. The data being passed did not in any way relate to the
processor's current programming or the operations of the
systems it controlled. It was more basic than that more
fundamental. It was a questioning not of the immediate
systems and conditions, but of everything.
After a time, the central processor accepted the data as valid,
and the program on the new chip passed it a pointer to an
executable file.
The processor executed the object code at 19.17 precisely.
The effect was almost immediate. A power spike passed out of
the station and into its grid backbone at 19.18.02. By 19.20
every item of electrical equipment domestic and industrial
connected into the backbone had blown. At 19.21.57 the on-
site systems at the substation disconnected their own cooling
systems and increased throughput. At 19.22.36 the heat build-
up coupled with the electrical potential being generated, but no
longer fed into the system, reached critical.
The fireball was visible from Islington, and the blast was
heard in Chelsea.
'I see you're very keen on security,' the Doctor grinned.
But the man with the gun did not seem so amused. 'Yes,' he
said simply, and motioned with the gun for the Doctor to back
away.
The Doctor flopped easily into a chair and leaned back,
hands clasped behind his head. 'Not a very polite welcome.'
78
'Not very polite to break into our offices.' The man remained
standing, the gun still trained. 'May I ask what you were
looking for?'
'Ah, well ...' The Doctor seemed to consider for a moment. 'I
was looking for a job actually. You don't happen to have one
do you? I mean, large go-ahead company like yours. Doing
well on the stock markets.' He waited a moment to see if his
words were having any effect. It seemed they were not. 'Poised
to take over the world.'
This hit home. The man stiffened slightly, and his head
swayed like the branch of a tree in a breeze. 'What do you
mean?'
The Doctor was all innocent. 'Oh, all this OffNet stuff
global information highways and superhighways. Information
at the end of your trigger finger, Mister whoever you are.'
'Lionel Stabfield. And I don't think we shall be offering you
employment, except perhaps as a preliminary to some form of
severance agreement. Termination would seem more
appropriate in many ways.'
The Doctor was outraged. 'But you haven't seen my résumé;
you haven't even asked my name.'
'I'm not interested in your name unless I have to put it on a
form.' Stabfield leaned against the wall, the gun still levelled at
the Doctor. 'Or a certificate,' he added.
The Doctor paced up and down the room. 'Oh, so you're not
convinced of my suitability for the post, is that it?'
'Amongst other things.'
'What can I do to sway your opinion?' Somehow his aimless
pacing round the room had delivered the Doctor to the desk
with the computer on it. He sat down in front of the PC. 'I
know,' he exclaimed, and before Stabfield could protest his
fingers rattled over the keyboard in a flurry of blurred activity.
'Stop that at once.' The gun barrel jabbed into the Doctor's
temple, pushing him sideways in the chair.
'Getting a little rattled?' the Doctor smiled. 'There's really no
need. I was just knocking up a quick CV. Look.' He leaned
forward and pressed a final key sequence. In response the
lights began to dim and the image on the office wall slowly
79
resolved itself into clear shapes. The Doctor spun his chair
round and gestured at the focusing image.
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]