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Authors: Daniel Ganninger
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problem. Alex assured us that it would relegate itself only to the files in that area dealing with the Adamanthea project. The last thing we needed was every geek this side of the Mississippi descending on Genesis to “oh” and “ah” over this new threat. After “Grumpy’s” viral belch, it would go dormant again.
This would help mask what we had done . I was secretly feeling sorry for the employees at Genesis that would have to clean this mess up. Somehow noting my trepidation, Galveston said quietly, “They’ll survive. It’s a huge company.”
I knew all that, but it still hung over me. We were damaging work that had nothing to do with our case from behind a computer screen so we could end up making that buck even though I knew they had stolen the plans. I had come from a different world in which I stuck my head in the sand. In the world of academia, the worst people would do was publish or perish. Academics who released junk research on “Danish boys who eat waffles develop elevated blood sugar levels” published in the Journal of Breakfast Dietary Habits, was the worst I had to contend with. Guys and gals doing whatever it took to reach tenure, sit back, teach one class a year, and spend fifteen minutes a week in their office for students, while berating those same students for wasting their time. “I’m tenured, damn it!” they would exclaim.
Galveston by nature was much more cynical and suspecting. He was by all accounts, a realist, having been exposed to the real world of corporations, governments and politics. I too had experienced that governmental bubble of political horse trading, but never truly realized what went on behind closed doors. I had been a policy developer and analyst, buffered from the dog-eat-dog world of those back room dealings.
Up close and personal was how Galveston operated, which often opened him up to the surly underbelly of the cutthroat, greedy people he came in contact with. I was being exposed to the same ugly element and quickly becoming jaded, slowly leaving the optimist in myself behind.
“ I’m all done,” yelled Alex, bolting me from my silent bit of retrospection. He had already downloaded the file and waited for “Grumpy” to do its bit. We now had proof of our work. He deleted the original plan from the Genesis server and made some final checks that all the files we needed were copied. The virus would unravel at any second, and those files we had just downloaded onto our own hard drive would soon be useless on the Genesis server, and useless to anyone that tried to retrieve them.
It was almost over. I spied the couch blis sfully, and planned to dream of beautiful women feeding me grapes like in so many Roman depictions. Alex and Galveston continued to look calmly, but nervously, at the screen. Galveston sat like a general finishing up a battle. He looked swollen around the eyes, like a puffer fish. I hallucinated that his head began to float from his body, a clear sign we hadn’t had enough sleep. Galveston peered over Alex’s shoulder, letting a yawn give way.
“ There it is,” Alex said pointing to the file named Adamanthea 39598253 that now lay on our computer hard drive.
“ Can you open it?” Galveston asked.
“ Yeah, no problem, but why?” Alex answered and questioned.
“ I just want to see what we have, uh, borrowed.”
Alex opened the file, revealing a window with large amounts of text followed by a page of design schematics.
“ That’s a lot of stuff. Go ahead and print them if you can,” Galveston ordered, noticing something peculiar.
“ You’re the boss.”
The printer whirled up and revealed 20 pages, many of the first pages looking like goobly gook, no inherent pattern or meaning of words. Galveston reached for a few of the fresh pages coming off the printer and looked at them inquisitively.
“ Is this coded or something?” he asked and then handed a few of the
This would help mask what we had done . I was secretly feeling sorry for the employees at Genesis that would have to clean this mess up. Somehow noting my trepidation, Galveston said quietly, “They’ll survive. It’s a huge company.”
I knew all that, but it still hung over me. We were damaging work that had nothing to do with our case from behind a computer screen so we could end up making that buck even though I knew they had stolen the plans. I had come from a different world in which I stuck my head in the sand. In the world of academia, the worst people would do was publish or perish. Academics who released junk research on “Danish boys who eat waffles develop elevated blood sugar levels” published in the Journal of Breakfast Dietary Habits, was the worst I had to contend with. Guys and gals doing whatever it took to reach tenure, sit back, teach one class a year, and spend fifteen minutes a week in their office for students, while berating those same students for wasting their time. “I’m tenured, damn it!” they would exclaim.
Galveston by nature was much more cynical and suspecting. He was by all accounts, a realist, having been exposed to the real world of corporations, governments and politics. I too had experienced that governmental bubble of political horse trading, but never truly realized what went on behind closed doors. I had been a policy developer and analyst, buffered from the dog-eat-dog world of those back room dealings.
Up close and personal was how Galveston operated, which often opened him up to the surly underbelly of the cutthroat, greedy people he came in contact with. I was being exposed to the same ugly element and quickly becoming jaded, slowly leaving the optimist in myself behind.
“ I’m all done,” yelled Alex, bolting me from my silent bit of retrospection. He had already downloaded the file and waited for “Grumpy” to do its bit. We now had proof of our work. He deleted the original plan from the Genesis server and made some final checks that all the files we needed were copied. The virus would unravel at any second, and those files we had just downloaded onto our own hard drive would soon be useless on the Genesis server, and useless to anyone that tried to retrieve them.
It was almost over. I spied the couch blis sfully, and planned to dream of beautiful women feeding me grapes like in so many Roman depictions. Alex and Galveston continued to look calmly, but nervously, at the screen. Galveston sat like a general finishing up a battle. He looked swollen around the eyes, like a puffer fish. I hallucinated that his head began to float from his body, a clear sign we hadn’t had enough sleep. Galveston peered over Alex’s shoulder, letting a yawn give way.
“ There it is,” Alex said pointing to the file named Adamanthea 39598253 that now lay on our computer hard drive.
“ Can you open it?” Galveston asked.
“ Yeah, no problem, but why?” Alex answered and questioned.
“ I just want to see what we have, uh, borrowed.”
Alex opened the file, revealing a window with large amounts of text followed by a page of design schematics.
“ That’s a lot of stuff. Go ahead and print them if you can,” Galveston ordered, noticing something peculiar.
“ You’re the boss.”
The printer whirled up and revealed 20 pages, many of the first pages looking like goobly gook, no inherent pattern or meaning of words. Galveston reached for a few of the fresh pages coming off the printer and looked at them inquisitively.
“ Is this coded or something?” he asked and then handed a few of the
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