I have one week left, and I afraid they will kill me if I don’t deliver new virus. Nephew, your parents go on and on about your computer skills, and I must know if there is truth to their words. If you can assist me, please contact me as soon as possible. I give you much of the necessary background information on how to develop viruses: source code, examples, details on mechanisms that antivirus software uses. There is not much time left.
Whatever you do, please do not speak of this to your parents.
Leon lifted his head from the tiny screen of his phone and looked off into the distance. He remembered a Christmas when he was young and his uncle had come to visit from Russia. Leon’s father had cried when his brother came into their tiny apartment. During the days that followed, all through that holiday time, Leon’s parents were as happy as he could remember seeing them. His parents were so serious most of the time, but he vividly remembered them laughing merrily, even as Leon lay in bed at night trying to go to sleep.
The idea of writing a virus seemed absurd, and the idea that someone would be killed if he didn’t seemed no less absurd. What could he do?
He worried about it all through his next class, English. James sat next to him and threw tiny balls of paper at him. Leon just covered his ear, James's likely target, and pretended to listen to the teacher, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the email. He just couldn’t reconcile the kindly man who had bought him a bicycle for Christmas with the idea of a man who worked for the mob writing viruses. And if there was one thing that Leon’s parents had hammered into his head, it was that he had to stay out of trouble. His family didn’t have the money to send him to college, which meant that he needed scholarships, and scholarships didn’t go to kids who got into trouble.
He hated to let his parents’ logic dictate his own thinking, but there it was. He wanted to become a biologist. That meant going to a great school — he hoped for Caltech or MIT. No, helping his uncle would be a quick path to nowhere good.
Uncle Alex,
Of course I remember you! I appreciate your confidence in me, but I really know nothing about writing viruses. Yes, I know something about computers, but it’s mostly about gaming and biology. I don’t think I can help you.
Leon
Speaking of biology, it was up next. The thought of his favorite subject brought a smile to his face. He couldn’t say what it was he liked so much about biology, but it was undeniable that it was the one class he looked forward to every day.
Of everything in school, biology had the most thought provoking ideas: Life could emerge from anywhere. With no direction, it could evolve. Everything people were, was happenstance and survival. Life could be tampered with, at the most basic building block level, to create new life forms. The possibilities were limitless and spontaneous.
Today’s biology class focused on recombinant DNA, the technique of bringing together sequences of DNA from different sources to create new arrangements not found in nature. At the end of class Leon headed for the door, deep in thought about canine DNA. Suddenly, Mrs. Gellender blocked the doorway.
“Do you have a minute, Leon?”
Leon looked around to see if any of his friends noticed him. All clear. He nodded.
“I’m starting up a school team for computational biology. There’s going to be new intramural league in New York. I think you’d be perfect. We’re going to meet after school.”
Leon liked Mrs. Gellender. He really did. He loved biology. And part of him was interested, really interested. But man, oh man, how uncool it would be. And staying after school — that would suck.
Mrs. Gellender must have seen the look on his face. “You’ve done excellent work in my biology class. The paper you turned in on evolution was absolutely inspired. I loved the way you linked biological evolution to game theory.”
Leon felt his face growing red. If there was one thing worse than having to stay late to talk to a teacher, it was having them gush over your work. How embarrassing was she going to make this?
“Just think about it. Please. Being a member of the team would really help you when it came to college scholarships.” Mrs. Gellender held out a shiny pamphlet.
Leon took the pamphlet, and heard the words coming out of his mouth. “OK, I’ll do it.”
He walked away from the room. College scholarships. If he was going to college, any college, he’d have to get a scholarship. His mother painted nails, and his father was a graphic artist. They weren’t exactly rolling in money.
He finally walked down the now empty hallways of the school towards the main entrance. As he passed through the doors, he was assaulted from both sides. “HAIYAA” came the kung-fu style cry, and Leon jumped back.
James and Vito stood laughing. Heart pounding, Leon said, “You idiots, you’re gonna give me a heart attack.”
“You want a heart attack, look at this.”
James reached into his coat pocket and pulled out an ebony slab. It was the darkest, most matte black Leon had ever seen. It felt slightly warm, like a piece of wood that had been sitting in the sun. Leon turned it over and over in his hands. There was not a seam or mark anywhere on the case. An absolutely perfect surface.
“The Gibson,” Leon muttered in awe.
James nodded proudly. “I got the delivery notification and skipped class to run home and get it.”
Leon couldn’t stop marveling at the hunk of electronics in his hands, feeling the dense weight of it. The Gibson had the first carbon graphene processor. Two hundred fifty-six processing cores at the lowest power consumption ever manufactured. Full motion sensitive display. It had taken Hitachi-Sony six years to perfect the technology.
“OK, give it back already.”
As James took back the phone, it came to life in his hands. Each square inch of the case was a display, and the patterns rolled as James swiped at it. “Come on, let’s go back to your place and play Mech War. I want to see how this puppy does.”
Leon just nodded, his six month old Chinese copy of Hitachi-Sony’s Stross phone feeling ancient.
Late that night, Leon cleaned the mess of plates and glasses out of his bedroom and brought them back to the kitchen as quietly as possible to avoid waking his parents. James and Vito had stayed right up until dinner time finishing out a Mech War mission together. James's new Gibson phone blew them out of the water. It rendered video in such incredible detail that time after time Leon and Vito would ignore their own screens to watch James's screen.
But when his mother announced that dinner was cabbage soup, it had sent James and Vito scrambling for their own homes, suddenly remembering that they were expected by their parents.
Three hours later, his parents were finally asleep and Leon had time to look at the message he was trying so hard to ignore. So why was he cleaning his bedroom? Anything to avoid that message.
He gave up, and slumped down on his bed. With a flick on his phone, he plunged the room into darkness so he could see the city lights out his sliver of a window. He brought the phone back up.
Leon, I think you do know thing or two about programming. I saw your school grades, your assessment test scores, and remarks from your teachers. I think you can help me, but perhaps out of moral quandary you refuse to. Well, consider this, I will likely be dead in few days if you do not help me.
So if you must consider what is right and what is wrong, think how your father would feel if he knew you could help me but didn’t.
Leon felt sick to his stomach reading the message. His father would not want him to do something wrong. But his father also wouldn’t want anything to happen to his brother. He thought again of Uncle Alex’s visit and his father laughing and smiling. What the hell was he supposed to do? If he told his parents, which his uncle had said not to do, they would be worried sick about it.