Read Online The Man of Maybe Half-a-Dozen Faces by Ray Vukcevich - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ray Vukcevich
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despair creeping up, and I knew I could make it go away with a little dancing, but I knew too that down that road was just more despair. The hell of it was that I knew I was already deep into relapse. Iâd proved that at Gotta Dance. Itâs like something good happens and Iâve got to run off and celebrate.
At least one of us had been planning it all along.
Iâd been avoiding looking, fooling myself, but once the realization hit home, there was no sense denying it. I stopped in the middle of the room and looked down at my feet. I might be Dennis disguised as a janitor, but I was wearing our shiny black dancing shoes.
Unless I made a serious life change, everything I did now was just a holding action. My weird double-think ability was all that was keeping me going. Maybe that would be enough. You needed time to make big life changes, and time was not a luxury we had right now. Right now we had cases to solve. Dennis moved on to the next computer.
Pabloâs computer was filled with nifty games. He and Randy Casey must have had a lot in common. It was hard to see how Pablo had gotten any work done at all. At least that was my impression before I started in on the directory called EES.
We hit another jackpot.
There were a lot of documents written in a foreign language. There was also a file of business letters discussing the foreign language files.
The first startling thing I learned was that the language was Russian! The reason I hadnât recognized it at once (not that any of us speak Russian) was that it wasnât written in the Russian alphabet, so I hadnât been tipped off by any of those funny letters they use. Instead everything was in the regular alphabet. Maybe the words were spelled like they sounded.
But the thing that really knocked me out was that the Russian company was called Evil Empire Software!
The nerve of these guys. They put it right out in the open and dared you to make something of it.
From clues in the business letters I deduced that GP Ink had been hired by the Russians to translate Evil Empire documentation into English.
six
There were simply too many Russians in the case. EES and 4e4âit had to mean something.
I decided to call a conference. I hadnât been making excuses when Iâd told Prudence Deerfield that my disguises gave me the ability to look at a problem from a number of different perspectives. Each of my disguises represented a unique world view. In the old days, getting a discussion going had been difficult (not that we didnât manage it). These days, we did it with computers. Now I could log on to a private chat room, split myself into my several pieces, and talk the problem out.
I flipped over to Pabloâs telecommunication directory and logged on to the Internet using the Skylight Howells office account. I jumped over to a commercial service I knew was usually not too busy at that time of night and made arrangements for a private room.
Once inside the room, I made an animated icon for each of my aspects. Sky became Mr. Face, the Mad Mag spy I often used when talking to my therapist Roger. Dennis liked to appear as a red, white, and blue superhero in netland. Huge chest. No butt to speak of. Goofy cape. Scarface wore a human body with the head of a bat. Lulu liked to dress up, and in netland she had the figure for it. Dieter always dressed in black. The clothes were a sharp contrast to his blond hair and piercing blue eyes. The Average Guy (Tag) waited until everyone had a look, and then assumed the precise average of the other five.
âThe Russians seem to be a factor,â Sky said.
âIâve been looking at the numbers,â Dennis said. âIt may go even deeper than you think.â
âWhat do you mean?â Lulu asked.
The six icons moved into a circle, and their conversation appeared near the top of the screen. At first it was like looking down at the tops of their heads. That is, it was an experience
At least one of us had been planning it all along.
Iâd been avoiding looking, fooling myself, but once the realization hit home, there was no sense denying it. I stopped in the middle of the room and looked down at my feet. I might be Dennis disguised as a janitor, but I was wearing our shiny black dancing shoes.
Unless I made a serious life change, everything I did now was just a holding action. My weird double-think ability was all that was keeping me going. Maybe that would be enough. You needed time to make big life changes, and time was not a luxury we had right now. Right now we had cases to solve. Dennis moved on to the next computer.
Pabloâs computer was filled with nifty games. He and Randy Casey must have had a lot in common. It was hard to see how Pablo had gotten any work done at all. At least that was my impression before I started in on the directory called EES.
We hit another jackpot.
There were a lot of documents written in a foreign language. There was also a file of business letters discussing the foreign language files.
The first startling thing I learned was that the language was Russian! The reason I hadnât recognized it at once (not that any of us speak Russian) was that it wasnât written in the Russian alphabet, so I hadnât been tipped off by any of those funny letters they use. Instead everything was in the regular alphabet. Maybe the words were spelled like they sounded.
But the thing that really knocked me out was that the Russian company was called Evil Empire Software!
The nerve of these guys. They put it right out in the open and dared you to make something of it.
From clues in the business letters I deduced that GP Ink had been hired by the Russians to translate Evil Empire documentation into English.
six
There were simply too many Russians in the case. EES and 4e4âit had to mean something.
I decided to call a conference. I hadnât been making excuses when Iâd told Prudence Deerfield that my disguises gave me the ability to look at a problem from a number of different perspectives. Each of my disguises represented a unique world view. In the old days, getting a discussion going had been difficult (not that we didnât manage it). These days, we did it with computers. Now I could log on to a private chat room, split myself into my several pieces, and talk the problem out.
I flipped over to Pabloâs telecommunication directory and logged on to the Internet using the Skylight Howells office account. I jumped over to a commercial service I knew was usually not too busy at that time of night and made arrangements for a private room.
Once inside the room, I made an animated icon for each of my aspects. Sky became Mr. Face, the Mad Mag spy I often used when talking to my therapist Roger. Dennis liked to appear as a red, white, and blue superhero in netland. Huge chest. No butt to speak of. Goofy cape. Scarface wore a human body with the head of a bat. Lulu liked to dress up, and in netland she had the figure for it. Dieter always dressed in black. The clothes were a sharp contrast to his blond hair and piercing blue eyes. The Average Guy (Tag) waited until everyone had a look, and then assumed the precise average of the other five.
âThe Russians seem to be a factor,â Sky said.
âIâve been looking at the numbers,â Dennis said. âIt may go even deeper than you think.â
âWhat do you mean?â Lulu asked.
The six icons moved into a circle, and their conversation appeared near the top of the screen. At first it was like looking down at the tops of their heads. That is, it was an experience
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