“…was the loneliest summer of my life. If I worked for him, Father would allow me to solo occasionally or play with the orchestra during concerts. I got paid for performing, but not for the office work. I didn’t mind too much: As a performer, I was known; and most of the young ladies in the vicinity could be considered my groupies.”
Kim rolled eyes heavenward; Terry offered raspberry just as about to myself. Lisa giggled.
Adam continued unperturbed: “Unfortunately, I was assigned to conduct an inventory of the physical properties belonging to the orchestra — everything in the building. A lot of legwork was involved, but I had access to the computer so it didn’t look too difficult to list, categorize, and account for everything.”
“Have you read any good books lately?” Kim asked sweetly.
“NOOO-nooo-no-nonono…!” yelled Terry, bobbing head delightedly.
“Good stories are hard to come by,” I replied, controlling expression firmly: Intended beginning own response with “no.”
Lisa giggled again.
“After counting everything,” Adam continued, eyeing us severely, “and inputting the whole monumental collection into the computer, I started up the analysis and cataloging program. The system processed it; then suddenly erased all the data.”
“Gaw-awl-ly…!” quoth Terry. I blinked, closed mouth: Beaten to punch again.
Noted Lisa trying not to giggle.
“I called service; they came right out. The hardware man checked and pronounced everything healthy. The programmer analyzed the system’s behavior, reloaded the software, rechecked everything, and assured me that all was well.”
“Well, well, well…” intoned bird. Didn’t attempt to conceal reaction this time: Glared at featherhead; prefer to kibitz for myself.
Lisa engrossed in elaborate study of fingernail.
“I reinput the inventory, started the program — and exactly the same thing happened again!”
“How ’bout that…!” offered Terry. Adam, ostensibly staring preoccupiedly at ceiling, now watching bird out of corner of eye. Kim paying attention, too. All of which very funny: Terry’s reply that time his own for sure; hadn’t intended to comment.
“I called the service people back, and they did exactly what they had done previously, then left. I re-reinput the inventory and — ”
“The same thing happened again!” Kim and I chorused — again half a breath behind Terry.
Kim’s, Adam’s eyes met momentarily. Lisa giggled again. I affected indifference.
“It happened six times in a row,” Adam continued distractedly, attention now wholly fixed on bird. “And I was getting pretty tired of it. But finally the analyst announced he’d identified the problem.
“Our system was running on their third-generation software, which apparently contained a glitch that only surfaced under certain conditions. Our inventory provided them.
“They’d just finished writing their fourth-generation software, and they decided to try it on our system. After loading it, they hung around and watched while I input the inventory one last time — I hoped.”
“Then what?” Chorus this time included only Foster twins, Terry still half a breath in lead. Kim sat this one out, watching.
Adam’s hesitation visible; almost lost track of story. Almost.
“That did it — or very nearly. It processed the inventory electronically and didn’t erase it, but wouldn’t print it.
“The programmer displayed an incomprehensible screen full of numbers and symbols, studied it for a few moments, then nodded.
“ ‘That’s it,’ he gloated. ‘You see’ — he highlighted a section — This is assembly language, our fourth-generation software, and here’s the print program.’
“He went back into the third-generation program briefly and displayed the sort section. ‘Here,’ he said proudly, ‘is where that glitch resides that’s been wiping your library. It’s this command right here.’ He pointed to a single symbol.
“ ‘We intended to use that command, updated to fourth-generation, to order send-to-printer. But somehow we left it out when we actually wrote the program.’ ”
Adam radiated air of malicious anticipation. “I’m sure by now you’ve all figured out what the problem was.”
Had, embarrassed to confess. Kim hadn’t, though; result of gentle upbringing: Basically nice person; thought processes unaccustomed to such depravity.
Adam smiled cherubically, savoring moment; then began: “We needed the…”
“ — heir of the byte that dogged us!” shrieked Terry, as I opened mouth. I glared as bird exploded in manic laughter, head bobbing gleefully, dancing back and forth on perch.
Adam’s expression went from wicked delight to outraged disappointment — then genuine startlement. Kim’s eyes grew round, as well. Both stared at bird as if suddenly had started ticking. Lisa passed “giggle”; went straight to “belly laugh.”
“That didn’t come from memory,” Adam stated flatly.
“Nor from random word-string assembly,” Kim added apologetically.
“You guessed the punch line,” Adam continued darkly. “He got it from you.”
“He has been taking the words right out of your mouth a lot lately,” Kim offered uncomfortably.
Adam pressed on resolutely: “It hasn’t happened with me or Kim; you’re the only one he anticipates — or speaks in stereo with, often as not. That bird is reading your mind!”
“He is not,” I protested, probably somewhat peevishly. Explained again how years of close association had given baby brother private insight into clues pointing to imminent actions, words.
Adam began scathing retort; Kim placed hand over mouth. “But even if he had heard it before,” she said gently, “doesn’t it strike you as unlikely that he would pick just that moment to say it?”
Opened mouth to reply; then closed thoughtfully. Kim asks hard questions! “That’s kind of difficult to explain, I’ll admit,” I began. “But I’m sure…”
“This is silly,” interrupted Lisa, hands on hips, expression radiating undisguised impatience with stupid grown-ups. “Everybody knows Terry knows what Candy thinks. And if Candy thought about it, she’d know what Terry thinks, too.”
Palpable silence descended, broken, finally, by Terry’s comment: “How ’bout that.”
Adam now staring at Lisa: “ ‘Too’…?”
Lisa snickered; suddenly lost interest.
“ ‘Too’…?” repeated Adam. Glanced at Kim, whose expression showed sudden disapproval of new conversational direction. “You don’t suppose…”
“No, I don’t,” she responded firmly. Tone suggested wisdom of dropping subject.
But Adam on scent now; not deflected by subtlety: “She is a double-hominem child.” Paused dramatically; then continued in hushed tones: “Who knows what talents might be lurking behind those huge, fathomless black eyes…
Lisa glanced up, sighed, returned attention to book. Kim snorted inelegantly.
“That’s dumb,” observed Terry — as I opened mouth to say that very thing.
Well, trail’s end: Treasure hunt fun while lasted. Nothing left for short term but fall back to Plan A: Resume address-by-address examination of AA homes, work settings.
Between Kim, Adam, self, have dreamed up bunches of alternative approaches for locating AA headquarters in long run: For instance, Adam and Kim putting heads together over trailer’s electronic wall innards; plan to hoodwink some innocent component into serving as band-searching beacon. Device to dial endlessly up, down spectrum, pausing briefly to spout message beseeching reply on specific wavelength, to which, of course, receiver tuned, with relay-actuated recorder poised in case nobody listening when response comes in. Are confident of success. Lack only couple more transistors, chips, whatnots.