“I have an idea,” I said. “But first things first. Can your computer handle the ASCII transformation?”
Jenna nodded.
“I assume you have some of the binary codes from your, ah, biological system available on disk?”
She nodded again. “I already have the Indo-European proto-language rendition of my DNA message on disk. Part of this phase of the research was to see if more than one programmer could come up with the same English words independently.”
“OK. Then all that needs to be done is the final translation into English. I brought this new little camcorder along with me from my office—I can set it up right there in the corner.” I slipped the three-pound wafer out of my briefcase. “How long would it take you to get the words on the screen?”
Jenna was hunched over her computer, totally enmeshed in her work. She jabbed a key and leaned back, hands clasped around the back of her neck. “About seven-eighths complete at this point,” she said. She had that look of total satisfied absorption I’d seen many times in faces of researchers.
“Good. The camcorder’s all set to record, the printer looks good too.” I fiddled with the paper tray one more unnecessary time. Paper—marvelous invention. I didn’t like the tendency of those words on the screen to fade, and I never put 100 percent trust in any camera. A paper printout was just the ticket to give me a reliable permanent record of those words.
“You’re sure you want to go through with this?” Jenna asked, her expression suddenly changed. The larger realities apparently were still very understandably pressing her.
“I’m sure,” I said.
“You know it’s possible that the reason that I read it, and haven’t been harmed, is that the DNA source code is mine….”
“Possible, yes. Lots of things are possible. But I think the key point here is that Manny and Glen did something more than read it. I can’t imagine that just reading some words on a screen could kill—”
She shook her head. “I really don’t think we should go on with this.”
I could see she was working herself up—
“I mean,” she continued, “even from my selfish point of view, if you die here, with me right next to you, there’ll be no way the police won’t believe that I killed you. And even if that wasn’t the case, I don’t want you to die—”
“I’ve already taken care of that,” I said. “I left an outline of my theories about this case in my desk before I came here today. If something should happen to me, the lieutenant will read that and you’ll be in the clear. You’ve got to trust me on this.”
“I do trust you,” Jenna said. “I like you—that’s why I don’t want you to die. I mean—”
“No one’s going to die,” I said. “I’m not going to be sitting there staring at the screen like a wide-eyed lamb when the words come up. We’ll be in the other room. The video recorder will start automatically. The words will print out on the laserprinter. Whatever killed Glen and Manny, it surely wasn’t the meaning of the words—you’ve already recited that to me—it had to have been some kind of energy that was generated from the computer, released somehow along with the words. I’ve been saying that I don’t think that just reading the words released that energy—I don’t see how it could. But even if it did, there’s no way that energy could be carried along to a simple printout on paper.”
Jenna still looked doubtful. “What about the videotape?”
“We won’t look at it directly—I’ll use the digital scan to confirm that something was in fact recorded, then get it over to the lab for further testing.”
“I don’t know,” she said.
“Jenna, I’m appealing to you not only as a woman who may need this evidence to save her own freedom, maybe even her life, but as someone who cherishes the pursuit of knowledge. You and your colleagues started this. Who knows what lessons this DNA message may ultimately hold for the human species? We’ve got to see this through.”
She sighed, shaking her head, but she swayed back to the computer. I could see her body, first limp and sagging, now energized and vibrant as she returned her full attention to the work on the screen. “We should have the text up here any minute now,” she said. “The program will beep thirty seconds before the words all become clear on the screen, so that’ll give you enough time to get into the next room. Don’t be like Lot’s damn wife— make sure you don’t turn around and peek at the screen.”
The camcorder clicked and whirred into action.
The phone rang. “Should I get it?” I asked.
Jenna motioned yes.
“Hello? D’Amato. Phil. Fine, thanks. Uh huh. I see. Jeez—how? OK. I understand. Of course I will. I’ll be back to you.”
The computer beeped. “Words are on the screen in thirty seconds,” Jenna turned and announced with a mixture of triumph and trembling.
“That was Hertzberg on the phone,” I said.
“What’s he found? Anything of interest?” Jenna rose from her chair.
“Someone else on the project died—of ‘natural’ causes. Denise Richter. You know her?”
“Of course I know her,” Jenna sobbed like someone stuck by a knife. “Of course I do. I didn’t know her well but, for god’s sake, how’d it happen this time?”
“Same as the last two,” I said. “At least you’re off the hook now on the murder charge.”
“Oh god. I just thought of something.”
“What?” I said.
“Denise was using my genetic material. Glen told me the batch she’d been working on had been accidentally ruined—the stain was too strong— so he sent her some of his stock, which was mine … oh god.” Now not only her lips but her entire body was quivering.
“It’s OK,” I said, and I put my hand on her shoulder to calm her. “Hertzberg’s putting a halt on the project. That’s why he was calling you. I guess he has the requisite number of bodies now—”
“And I’m gonna put an end to this," Jenna cried out, and I saw her hand reach down to the keyboard.
My hand shot out in reflex, faster than Jenna’s. I caught her wrist in midair, jerked it away from the keyboard. “Don’t,” I said. “We’ve got to go through with this.”
“Are you crazy?” she screamed. “How many more dead do you want?” And her fists were pummeling my chest, unclenching into hands that were frantically trying to push me away, break free so she could get to the keyboard and prevent the words from getting on the screen, maybe erase all the crucial preparatory work on her hard disk as well.
But I set my arms firmly around her body and moved her out of the way. And I had a clear view of the screen.
And god help me, I couldn’t stop myself.
I looked and read.
Jenna’s voice came to me and said, “Are you OK?”
The words on the screen were as Jenna had described them in the restaurant. Down to that peculiar copyright notice that I had seen a fragment of in Glen Chaleff’s apartment, and Jenna had quoted verbatim to me in the restaurant.
“Anyone who reads these words, who possesses our codes, is free to use them. As allowed under our Copyright Notice.”
“Are you OK?” Jenna asked again. “How do you feel?” And I could see she was staring at me intently.
“So far, so good,” I said. “Just the usual hunger rumblings in my stomach.”
Jenna continued to stare at me, as if keeping me in the crystal-clear focus of her green-violet eyes would prevent me from dying.
“I’m OK, really,” I said. “I’m sorry I had to shove you out of the way.” Actually, my body wasn’t—she’d felt very good with my arms around her. But that was hardly the point.
“Oh god,” she put her arms around me and pulled herself close. Professional, think professional, I thought. She’s still officially a subject in a murder investigation, though I knew she wasn’t guilty. I controlled myself to the point of allowing myself just one or two strokes of her soft brown hair. “I’m so glad you’re all right," she said, crying. “What am I? Some sort of goddamn Typhoid Mary of an ancient genetically engineered curse?”