Chapter 2: I Am the Warrior

A/N: Yes, I know that the plot device of waking up and finding a mysterious message on one's computer screen is in The Matrix. But really, what computer hacker story these days doesn't borrow elements from that movie?

------1966------

Erik had lived at Dulce Hogar for more than a year when he was first allowed to see a prototype. Until this point he'd been solving equations on paper and feeding punch cards into the computer, aware that he was contributing something toward "national defense" but never seeing the actual weapons he was helping to design. Then his supervisor decided that he was mature enough to see the product of his work.

Erik had never been told about Mutually Assured Destruction or the meaning of the "cold" in Cold War. Instead he thought his new countrymen were preparing to launch the missiles he saw at Russia, and imagined them killing his relatives and friends. He knew that he'd been sent to Dulce Hogar for his superior intelligence—greater than many of the researchers there—and resolved to use that intelligence to destroy the prototype and thwart the plans.

Intimately connected as he was with the design of the weapon, figuring out how to get rid of it was the easy part. The hard part was destroying this highly volatile missile without killing himself or his co-workers. Erik decided to program the computer to begin the destruction sequence at a time when no one was in the building. He hid in one of the underground tunnels that had been built for the most secret research, until the computer was unguarded. The punch cards he had made contained a program to blow up the missile at 3:00 the next morning.

Yet something went wrong. In 1966 there were no code simulators, compiler warnings, or integrated debuggers. Nor were there safety nets in the programming languages themselves. You found out that your program had a bug when it ran and produced the wrong output...and Erik found his bug when the weapon exploded early! The force reduced the computer and the lab equipment to scrap metal. Erik, who was not yet out the door, should have been killed but somehow survived. Most of his body, however, was burned or pierced by shrapnel. His face took more damage than any other part.

-----June 1985-----

At the first bidder for the Chavez Conglomerate's contract, Raul had sat on a plush ergonomic chair at an upscale mahogany conference table, while the presenter had communicated his ideas on a raised stage with a state-of-the-art sound system. At Opera Computing, he sat in the front row of a grid of miscellaneous office chairs, facing a bare slide projector. Yet Opera's presentation left Raul with no doubt as to which company he would recommend for the contract. He had never seen such amazing insight and innovation! Each aspect of the presentation looked like the product of weeks of thought.

Raul congratulated a receptive Arnav and Frank on their company's success, adding: "By the way, who was the young lady doing the main technical presentation? She somehow looks familiar to me."

Frank tried to suppress his astonishment and sputtered, "That's Christine, one of our—distinguished young—software engineers." Carlotta, who had decided to show up after all and watch the anticipated "disaster" unfold, sneered.

Raul smiled, realizing where he'd known her from. "Well, Christine, I'd like to talk with you for a moment after we're done."

They met outside in the parking lot and immediately began chatting like old friends. "Look at you, Christine, all grown up, with a real job—and more beautiful than ever!" Raul gushed after a few minutes.

"Oh, Raul, you too! I was so worried that after going to Exeter and Yale, you'd come back some—oh, I don't know, some strange and different person, but no, it's the same old you! The same old sweet, charming, Raul!" She felt deliriously happy.

Raul took Christine's hand. "Christine, dear, how would you like to go out for dinner tonight, my treat? We can catch up on old times much more there."

Christine's face became pained. "I'm sorry, Raul, but I can't," she muttered in a lower tone. "I have to be at my programming lesson..." her voice trailed off.

"A programming lesson? After work? Darling, you work much too hard. Why don't you take a break for one evening and have dinner with me? I know of a wonderful Chinese restaurant."

"I'd love to, but—but—if I miss my programming lesson, my teacher will be very upset." As Christine said these words, she acquired a faraway, almost hypnotized look, and Raul resigned to try again the next time he was in town. He ate dinner with the other Chavez representatives at the hotel restaurant, and returned to New York on the 12:30 AM redeye flight.

He thought about Christine the entire time, wondering what she was doing. He wasn't around to notice that she would not return home that night.

-----March 1985-----

After only a week at Opera Computing, Christine was already spending her first evening at the office. Queen Carlotta assumed that her underlings were perfect robots who could make all their programs work the first time without any debugging, and assigned deadlines accordingly. At 11 PM, Christine was still trying to find exactly where she had made changes within a certain 10,000-line file, when she dozed off on her desk. At 11:15 PM, she woke to find her screen black except for a message:

Are you lost?

Confused and a little woozy, Christine instinctively muttered a tentative "Yes?"

A graphic of a map slowly materialized on the screen. Christine recognized it as a map of the Opera Computing office, with details as minute as the motivational posters in each room. She also noticed that the map was recent; her musical stuffed monkey, which she had brought to the office that afternoon, was there. The text Go Here was placed above the end of a hidden hallway that she had never noticed before. Intrigued, she went, and found a desk with an old-looking computer. As Christine sat down in the chair and pressed the computer's ON button, she heard a deep and melodious voice with a slight, impossible-to-place foreign accent. The voice came from the computer's speakers, even though this seemed impossible since she hadn't run any programs:

"Then I will help you find yourself."

Christine thought about her life so far. She had entered college knowing nothing about her interests, and taken a bit of everything to try to find them. She had made A's in all her science classes, but the droning professors had made them dull and lifeless. The humanities classes had been much more promising, but soon they'd become nearly impossible for her. Self-esteem shot, Christine had dropped out and searched for any job that didn't pay minimum wage. The computer science class that made her eligible for the Opera Computing job had been horribly boring, but she went for it because it was a living. Now her workday was every bit as tedious as she'd feared, and her social life was nonexistent because she lived more than an hour away from her old friends. Christine's life seemed unbearably empty, and she would turn to anyone--even this mysterious stranger--to help fill it again.

-----June 1985-----

After everyone else had left, Christine prepared once again for her programming lesson. In the past three months, she had begun to think of programming as less of a boring way to pay the bills and more as an art worth practicing for its own sake. She was helped along by the soft waves of her tutor's voice, and her imaginings of what he might look like in person. She had even concocted a picture of him in her mind: tan skin, wavy brown hair, kindly coffee-colored eyes. A lot like Raul looked, in fact.

The mysterious tutor began: "You have done well today, Christine. I am proud of you." He always spoke a bit formally, as if he'd learned English in school. "You are coming closer to truly understanding what good software design is."

"Thanks," Christine giggled, blushing. "Um, what are we talking about today?"

He continued his train of thought, ignoring her question. "Yes, you have progressed rapidly; and so, I believe you are ready. You will not learn about programming today. Instead, you will learn who I, your tutor, am...and why I have chosen to share my knowledge with you."

Christine gasped in surprise and her heart pounded with nervousness. She stared as the wall panel containing the computer swung forward mechanically, revealing another dark hallway. She looked forward, expecting to see the face of her mysterious teacher—but she saw nothing but the walls. Then she felt a slight tug at her knees, and looked down.