Read Online Capitol Reflections by Jonathan Javitt - Free Book Online
Authors: Jonathan Javitt
Tags: thriller
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levels. For security, therefore, Jamie used his jury-rigged thumbprint recognition system in addition to always locking the machine with a key that he kept on a chain around his neck.
Jamie glanced at a row of plants directly to the right of his desk. Casually, he picked a couple of leaves from the nearest stem, popped them in his mouth, and chewed. Henry hadn’t been far off the mark. Jamie liked to nibble a little salad fresh from his narrow gardens from time to time.
He continued to transfer data from his notebooks to the green computer screen. It was two in the morning when he shut down the box and locked it after saving new info to a floppy drive, another of Jamie’s innovative uses of the expansion ports. He would grab a few hours of sleep, go to a couple of rudimentary classes the next day, and then return to his real love—the research that Kucherlapati thought so frivolous.
11
Henry could no more stifle his curiosity than he could stop screwing coeds or inflicting punishment on the soccer field. He had to be in the loop, and it irked him that Jamie Robinson worked late into the night seven days a week, doodling cryptic pictures in his notebook or tapping computer keys and munching on leaves like a rabbit. The kid even wore a lab coat, like he was some kind of Jonas Salk cooking up a vaccine to save the world, and he was apparently unaware that Henry was not always asleep after slouching on his bed. What bothered Henry the most was that Jamie destroyed his notebooks after transferring their squiggles and chemical formulas to his computer. What kind of secrets did Jamie harbor in that box?
He didn’t know a lot about the Apple, but he was savvy enough to know that whatever Jamie was storing in its guts might be important. In Jamie’s absence, Henry tried several times to break into it. He’d attempted to unlock the computer with several small keys and had even pressed his thumb onto the recognition pad, thinking it was some kind of “open sesame” device. None of this worked.
The info on the machine might turn out to be crap, but if Jamie thought it was important enough to Fort Knox, then Henry needed to know about it. The most important thing he had learned from his father, besides how to make a perfect martini, was that information was more valuable than money, not that the latter should be neglected.
In fact, if used correctly, information could lead straight to the bank vault. But how could he break into the damned computer? Sadly, he couldn’t simply crack the thing open. Henry didn’t know much about computers, but he did know that it would be useless if he smashed it.
He’d have to use a subtler form of entry—ones named Carol and Heather, two sophomores from Ryder College down the road. They had come by the Cottage Club party last Saturday night and Henry, being his social self, naturally befriended them. He’d know what was stored on the computer soon enough.
At ten o’clock, Jamie Robinson was doing what he did every night: meticulously recording data about the successes and failures of various mutations he attempted. One had been particularly successful. The mutation was certainly interesting, but the plant was virtually the same.
Well, almost the same.
The mutation seemed to have rather unusual properties discovered through trial and error in Kucherlapati’s lab. Through selective breeding, Jamie was able to amplify the mutation, although the native gene sometimes asserted itself and caused the original version of the molecule to reappear.
Intriguing. Jamie bypassed the breeding process entirely and isolated the mutation on a DNA segment. Then he used one of Kucherlapati’s prize-winning techniques for inserting it into the natural DNA of the plants. Now the mutation replicated itself every time.
Jamie was convinced that his work had potential applications in the real world and was far too sensitive to show anyone, at least for the time being. Not even Kucherlapati. Like any
Jamie glanced at a row of plants directly to the right of his desk. Casually, he picked a couple of leaves from the nearest stem, popped them in his mouth, and chewed. Henry hadn’t been far off the mark. Jamie liked to nibble a little salad fresh from his narrow gardens from time to time.
He continued to transfer data from his notebooks to the green computer screen. It was two in the morning when he shut down the box and locked it after saving new info to a floppy drive, another of Jamie’s innovative uses of the expansion ports. He would grab a few hours of sleep, go to a couple of rudimentary classes the next day, and then return to his real love—the research that Kucherlapati thought so frivolous.
11
Henry could no more stifle his curiosity than he could stop screwing coeds or inflicting punishment on the soccer field. He had to be in the loop, and it irked him that Jamie Robinson worked late into the night seven days a week, doodling cryptic pictures in his notebook or tapping computer keys and munching on leaves like a rabbit. The kid even wore a lab coat, like he was some kind of Jonas Salk cooking up a vaccine to save the world, and he was apparently unaware that Henry was not always asleep after slouching on his bed. What bothered Henry the most was that Jamie destroyed his notebooks after transferring their squiggles and chemical formulas to his computer. What kind of secrets did Jamie harbor in that box?
He didn’t know a lot about the Apple, but he was savvy enough to know that whatever Jamie was storing in its guts might be important. In Jamie’s absence, Henry tried several times to break into it. He’d attempted to unlock the computer with several small keys and had even pressed his thumb onto the recognition pad, thinking it was some kind of “open sesame” device. None of this worked.
The info on the machine might turn out to be crap, but if Jamie thought it was important enough to Fort Knox, then Henry needed to know about it. The most important thing he had learned from his father, besides how to make a perfect martini, was that information was more valuable than money, not that the latter should be neglected.
In fact, if used correctly, information could lead straight to the bank vault. But how could he break into the damned computer? Sadly, he couldn’t simply crack the thing open. Henry didn’t know much about computers, but he did know that it would be useless if he smashed it.
He’d have to use a subtler form of entry—ones named Carol and Heather, two sophomores from Ryder College down the road. They had come by the Cottage Club party last Saturday night and Henry, being his social self, naturally befriended them. He’d know what was stored on the computer soon enough.
At ten o’clock, Jamie Robinson was doing what he did every night: meticulously recording data about the successes and failures of various mutations he attempted. One had been particularly successful. The mutation was certainly interesting, but the plant was virtually the same.
Well, almost the same.
The mutation seemed to have rather unusual properties discovered through trial and error in Kucherlapati’s lab. Through selective breeding, Jamie was able to amplify the mutation, although the native gene sometimes asserted itself and caused the original version of the molecule to reappear.
Intriguing. Jamie bypassed the breeding process entirely and isolated the mutation on a DNA segment. Then he used one of Kucherlapati’s prize-winning techniques for inserting it into the natural DNA of the plants. Now the mutation replicated itself every time.
Jamie was convinced that his work had potential applications in the real world and was far too sensitive to show anyone, at least for the time being. Not even Kucherlapati. Like any
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