Chapter 5: Lunch With A Virus

Bright and early next second, Mouse knocked on the door to Galatea's room. "Rise and shine, Sugah," she called. "Get ready, then we'll have breakfast together. And then Ah have a little surprise for ya." Mouse waited for a reply.

"Just a minute," Galatea called sleepily from inside. Mouse tried to make sense of this statement as she listened to Galatea moving around in her room.

"A minute?" She blustered. "It can't take ya that long to…" then she remembered that Galatea still thought in terms of User time.

Galatea came to more or less the same realization, from the opposite side, "A nannersecond" Galatea called crossly. "I meant a nannersecond."

"Nanosecond," Mouse corrected, stifling a chuckle behind her hand.

She waited for a few of the aforementioned nanoseconds while Galatea got herself ready. At last the door opened, and Galatea appeared, dressed and with her hair still damp from the shower.

They walked down the corridor together. "That shower is an ingenious device," Galatea said wonderingly. She hadn't lost her fascination with it since AndrAIa had first told her how it was used the day before. "I had some trouble with it, though. It was too cold and then it was too hot…"

"You'll get the hang of it," Mouse assured her. They entered a lift and took it down two levels to the PO mess hall. Ray, Phong and Dot were already there.

"Morning, ladies," the Surfer greeted the new arrivals. Dot looked up at them with a smile. Phong bowed politely. Galatea acknowledged each of them before taking a look around the mess hall.

"You can get breakfast over there," Dot said, pointing to the buffet line. "Just take what you want to eat. There's plenty to choose from."

Mouse, who felt the need for some breafast herself, accompanied Galatea to the buffet line. She found herself wondering exactly what birthday present Ray had found for her — her birthday was in less than a minute, and she didn't know if she could bear the suspense that long.

She noticed that Galatea was eyeing the breakfast food the same way she had regarded her lunch the second before. Mouse helped her out with some advice.

"Ever had a pancake before, hon? They're good with some syrup and butter on top," she suggested.

Galatea didn't answer for a few cycles. She was looking at the donuts. For some reason Mouse couldn't fathom, Galatea smiled and chuckled. Then she asked, "I shall try a pan-cake. Whatever that is."

After the morning meal, Galatea declared sincerely that it had been the best breakfast she'd ever eaten. Not only had she never had pancakes before; she'd never had oranges, either. Dot felt sorry for her — she was in such a good mood, and Dot was going to have to spoil it by telling her there was no way for them to get her home. She dreaded the moment as they went to the tech workshop, where Mouse's icon-modifying workstation was set up.

Galatea was under the impression that they were going outside to start patrols, since she didn't know her way around the Principal Office yet. "Well," she sighed, "I am as ready as I shall ever be for patrolling with Hexadecimal…"

"Uh-uh, hon," Mouse said, shaking her finger. "Remember that surprise Ah told you about? You don't have to spend quality time with Hex just yet." 'Quality time.' That's an interesting way of putting it, Dot thought. The sprites entered the workshop.

"Okay," Mouse said, "Galatea, we're gonna register you with the system."

"Register me?" Galatea repeated, looking confused.

It was time to break the news. Dot felt that it was best for her to do it. "Galatea," she said gently, "Listen. We can't get you back to where you came from. We don't have the means or the knowledge, and that's not likely to change. Since you're going to be here for a while, Phong and I decided last night…we're going to register you and make you a citizen of Mainframe." She had said it in the best way that she was able to.

Galatea looked at her solemnly. "I see," she said. She clasped her hands and looked at her feet, without saying anything else for a few moments. Then she looked at Dot again. "How is one registered for citizenship?" she asked.

Dot was surprised that Galatea had taken her pronouncement so well. Or maybe she had decided to process it later, on her own. Or something else was going on in her head. Whatever it was, she obviously didn't want to discuss it.

"We will need your icon," Phong said, moving things along. "And Dot's, to use as a template. Mouse will do the rest."

Galatea nodded and unpinned her icon from her clothes. The golden circle, engraved with a bird, glittered in the black triangle as she removed it. She handed the icon to Mouse, who took it from her gently. Mouse tapped a button on the worstation panel in front of her. Two three-pronged mechanical claws came out of the top. She put Galatea's icon in one of the claws; the prongs adjusted to hold it. Then she held out her hand for Dot's icon.

With a sigh, Dot removed her own icon and handed it to Mouse. The hacker put it in the other claw of the machine. Now Dot and Galatea's icons were back-to-back. The lights in their circuits, now visible, twinkled.

Mouse tapped buttons and adjusted dials on the control panel. She looked at the readout and nodded. "Initializing…now," she said, pressing a large red button. A beam of light appeared between the icons for a moment; then Galatea's icon changed into a standard Mainframe icon, like Dot's. Mouse handed the icons back to their respective owners. Dot put hers back on immediately, but Galatea didn't. She turned it over several times in the palm of her hand, examining it.

"You are now a citizen of Mainframe," Dot informed her. Galatea looked up at her as if startled. "Keep your icon with you at all times. It contains your personal identification numbers, which can be used to control you if they fall into the wrong hands."

"Your whole life will be on that icon, my child," Phong said gravely. "Guard it well. Do you understand?"

Galatea nodded as she put the icon back on. "Is…there a way to change it back, if I want to do that?" she asked.

"You can double-click it," Phong said. "Tap it twice," he clarified. Galatea did so, and it reverted to the icon she had had before.

Phong explained the icon to her. "It now contains the standard code of a Mainframe icon, as well as the code that was in it before. When it is in standard form, you will be able to reboot in Games and receive upgrades from the User. But your icon cannot do those things in its original form, as you have it now."

"I understand," Galatea said. She seemed very much aware of what had just been entrusted to her, and how important it was — even if she didn't comprehend the mechanism behind it. "I will be sure to take good care of it."

Satisfied, Dot nodded. "The others will be getting here soon," she said, getting off the subject of the icon. "Then I'll give them patrol orders for the day. And I got some new equipment that might help."

A quarter of a millisecond later, the sprites of Mainframe, along with the resident virus and robots, were gathered in the Office's briefing room. The room featured a long table lined with comfortable swivel chairs. At the head of the table was a larger chair where Dot was now sitting. Across from her, on the other side of the room, there was a screen, now blank. A large window, parallel with the table, looked out onto the system to her left — the door, locked to keep this meeting private, was set in the wall on her right.

Most of those gathered in the room were sitting in the chairs lining the long table, except for the robots, who were physically unable to sit. They stood at the foot of the table instead. The sprites were talking quietly among themselves, except for Hexadecimal, who was idly tracing abstract patterns on the tabletop with an index finger, and Galatea, who was sitting across from her. The newly registered sprite had her arms folded on the table. Her unfocused gaze was directed at the reflective tabletop.

"Okay people," Dot announced, calling the meeting to order. Everyone fell silent and looked at her. "Before we start searching today, I want to tell you all that I've found something that may help. There was a crate of old virus scanners left in one of the Office storehouses — a cleaning crew found it by accident."

More specifically, they had stumbled into the crate and knocked it over, causing it to break. It had been an old crate, not up to current regulations. User only knew how long it had been there. She made a mental note to have all the boxes they had stored up were checked and catalogued, after this was over.

"The scanners are obsolete, but they're the best we could get under current circumstances." Current circumstances being Daemon, which meant they couldn't get new ones from the Supercomputer. "We found viral residue in the places where it attacked binomes—the scanners have been updated with scans of that residue. So it'll be a little easier to find, at least."

"Won't they pick her up as well?" Matrix asked, jabbing a thumb in Hexadecimal's direction. The virus looked a little concerned, not to mention a bit miffed. Fortunately, she just stuck her tongue out at Matrix instead of saying anything.

"No," Dot assured her brother. "These were made before she was compiled. They're not programmed to recognize her." Hex, she noticed, nodded and looked relieved. "A lot of them weren't functioning after such a long period in storage, so I can only give one to each team. Now, for your patrol assignments. Matrix, AndrAIa, you're going on foot on Level 31 — most of the attacks so far have taken place there. Get Frisket to go with you, if you can."

Matrix and AndrAIa nodded. If the virus was hanging around that area, they were probably the best equipped to handle it (with the exception of Bob, naturally). Frisket would probably be able to help them find a trail, which was something the virus scanners couldn't do.

"Hack and Slash, you'll take G-Prime. Don't go on…" She couldn't really say 'don't go on foot.' Not only did they not have feet: they'd probably take her statement literally and get confused. "Well, fly around it. If you find something, contact Phong. Don't go after it yourselves."

"Yes ma'am," Hack saluted.

"Got it. Use the jets."

"Yeah, the jets."

"Not like last time."

"Don't want to get too close."

"Nope, not too close."

The robots quieted down when Dot cleared her throat loudly. She continued.

"Mouse, Ray, you watch Wall Street and Beverly Hills." The two sprites nodded. Those were two of the largest sectors in the city, and Ray at least could cover the area faster than anyone else. If he had to chase after the virus, his speed would be an advantage.

"Bob and I will patrol Baudway and Kits," she said. "Galatea and Hexadecimal, you examine Floating Point and Lost Angles." Although it was unlikely that their quarry would turn up in Hexadecimal's domain, since there was nothing for it to feed on, it was still possible. "I've got the CPUs keeping a tight guard on the Principal Office, and they've taken precautions to make sure that the virus can't come up through a drain or underground tunnel."

She stood up from the chair, placed her hands on the table palms down, and surveyed the group. "I don't need to remind you how important it is that we catch this thing quickly. We've put out a systemwide alert, but not everyone is staying in their homes, and even if they do they may not be safe. Eleven people have been attacked so far, and two of them deleted. Be very careful. That's all."

The search teams began to get up and head for the door. Bob stopped Galatea before she got out — he was going to teach her how to read the virus scanner (since Hex probably wouldn't want to carry it) and help her with other details. While Dot did not doubt that she meant well, she wasn't sure if it was prudent to have her help them search for the virus, or for that matter pair her with Hexadecimal. But she trusted Phong's decision — he had good reasons for everything he did. And Mouse had told her, earlier this morning, that while Mainframe was utterly alien to the newly arrived sprite, she was very quick on the upload. Since she was going to be spending the rest of her runtime here, she might as well start learning now.

Galatea and Hexadecimal had been patrolling over Floating Point Park for a few hours — milliseconds — now. Bob had told Galatea what sort of search pattern to use. She had let him, although she knew perfectly well how do to a patrol — she had been trained to. Adapting her lessons to her current situation wouldn't have been that difficult. But she liked Bob, who she considered a fellow knight and an equal, if not a superior — she didn't want to offend him.

Hexadecimal had been chattering to her as they made their sweeps over the hovering islands of Floating Point Park. She had dissuaded Galatea from going to Lost Angles, insisting that the "nasty thing" wouldn't dare enter her territory. Galatea took her at her word. She had come to the conclusion that Hexadecimal was really more childish than mad.

She was curious about the world that Galatea came from, and had disclosed some information about her own past, although she stated her recollections in a cryptic way and there were some things about which she would simply not go into detail. But Galatea found out about her brother, who was presumably deceased — deleted — in the Web. Hexadecimal gave the impression, through omission and signs of fright, that the Web was even worse than her brother had been, although Galatea could hardly imagine anyone worse than this Megabyte ostensibly was. Hexadecimal herself had only recently switched from being an enemy of the city to an ally, because of something Bob had done, but Galatea didn't understand exactly what"defragmenting" was. She'd have to ask Bob later, if she had time.

And Galatea told of her own past; she came from a noble family, of which she was the only survivor since her parents and siblings had died in the troll invasion a long time ago. As the last child of the family, she had been obligated to take up her father's sword — the one she carried now — and become a knight of the Order of Guardians as he had been. Her family history, she stated proudly, could be traced back for five centuries (Hexadecimal had interrupted here, not knowing what a century was, and Galatea estimated it at many weeks), and many of her ancestors had been brothers or sisters of the Order. She had only just been knighted, and had set off on a quest to retrieve the Holy Crown of Galadridd, when she had been transported to Mainframe.

As she was telling Hexadecimal about her kingdom, she heard a beeping noise, close by, which was repeated over and over. It seemed to be coming from Hexadecimal herself. The virus looked surprised, and suddenly produced a small, disc-shaped object from somewhere (Galatea could not tell where) about her person.

Hexadecimal smiled as she examined the thing and put it away. "That's our alarm watch," she explained, although that didn't do Galatea much good. "Dot set it. I think it's lunchtime now."

Galatea was indeed feeling hungry, although she couldn't tell if it was noonday (or whatever they called it here) since there was no sun to reckon by. "So we should go to the Principal Office for lunch? Or perhaps the Diner?" Galatea asked her.

But Hexadecimal had a different idea. "Why don't we go to my Lair instead," she suggested pleasantly. "We can have peanut-butter sandwiches. And I made biscuits." Galatea had been forming a good opinion of her odd companion, but now she wasn't so sure — anyone who would so casually call their residence a"lair" was someone to worry about.

"I'm…not sure if that's a good idea," Galatea said. She wasn't sure how she was going to get herself out of this one.

"Nonsense. It's perfectly fine," Hexadecimal said. "We can have lunch on the terrace!"

Before Galatea could protest, Hexadecimal grabbed her arm. Galatea felt a very strange, uncomfortable sensation that she could not put words to. All she knew for sure was that she and Hexadecimal were not where they had been a moment before. The zipboard Galatea had been riding was now on solid ground.

"This is the terrace," Hexadecimal said proudly. The first thing Galatea noticed was that there were dozens of colored blobs around. And they were moving. "Shoo," Hexadecimal said, flapping her hands about as if she were scattering chickens. The blobs, moving with surprising speed, darted into crevices and up walls and out of sight.

"Wait here while I get lunch," Hexadecimal instructed. Her body sort of scrunched itself into the white mask of her face, and then the mask was gone. It was the same way she had taken her leave when Galatea had met her for the first time. But nobody had said that Hexadecimal could transport a passenger that way. Galatea wondered what other details they had forgotten to tell her.

Getting over her initial disorientation, Galatea stepped off the zipboard and began examining her new surroundings. Hexadecimal's "terrace" appeared to be the top floor of a building made of brownish-gray metal whose roof had long ago fallen down, leaving it open to the sky. The walls were still intact, for the most part, and Galatea could not see anything outside other than the cloud-flecked blue above. She couldn't tell where she was in relation to the rest of the city, but she guessed that she was somewhere in Lost Angles, the island of ruins she had seen at a distance while on patrol.

The debris of the fallen roof had been piled up against the walls, leaving a cleared space in the center of which there stood a black wrought-iron (she assumed) table and three chairs of similar make and material. Galatea could not see a door or steps, so the only possible way out, for her, would be by zipboard. It would be rude to leave anyway, and if Hexadecimal could fly and do…whatever she had just done, there was no telling what else she was capable of. And Galatea didn't want to risk her displeasure.

Hexadecimal's mask reappeared, and the rest of her followed. She was carrying a tray balanced on one hand. She put it on the table, and waved to one of the chairs with her free hand. Not knowing what else to do, Galatea sat down in the indicated seat. Hexadecimal put the tray down. On it was a sweating glass pitcher of some golden liquid (cold tea, Galatea guessed), as well as two tall glasses filled with the same substance, each sporting a thin slice of some yellow fruit on the rim. There were also two large platters, the contents of which were hidden by metal covers.

Galatea's hostess sat down in the seat across the table. She took one cup from the tray and put it in front of Galatea, then took the other and brought it nearer to herself. "Iced tea," she declared. So Galatea had guessed correctly. "And now for the sandwiches…" Hexadecimal removed the cover from one of the platters.

Galatea had been expecting something at least mildly unpleasant, but the things described as peanut-butter sandwiches looked palatable enough—two slices of bread with some thick golden-brown stuff in the middle. Hexadecimal picked one up in her hand and took a bite. Galatea imitated her. The stuff in the sandwich was sticky and sweet. She decided that, if the sandwiches were all right, the tea would likely be safe too. She washed the bite of sandwich down with some of the tea from her glass. She was delighted (and relieved) to find that it too was good.

In between bites, Hexadecimal said, "It's so nice to have a guest. Most of the people here don't like me. Although I'm trying to be good." She took a bite of sandwich, chewed, and swallowed. "Bob is the only one who's nice to me." This last was spoken in a startlingly serious and forlorn tone. Hexadecimal, looking melancholy, took another bite from her sandwich.

Galatea found herself feeling pity for this poor creature. Fortune had dealt her a poor lot indeed — she was obviously powerful, but for all her power she could find no friends. She was terribly lonely, and in a situation that was still strange to her. Galatea knew how that felt. But she didn't know what to say.

The two finished their sandwiches in silence. Then Hexadecimal brightened up. "Now for the biscuits!" she said enthusiastically, forgetting the sorrow of a moment ago. She took the cover off the other platter, on which was a small pile of palm-sized circular objects; the biscuits.

Although Galatea had braved the iced tea and sandwiches, it was only because they looked harmless. The biscuits looked positively sinister. They were decorated with frosting and colored sugar so that they resembled the Mainframe icon. But where the icon should have been white, it was instead red. For some reason Galatea found this very disturbing, in a way that she could not articulate.

"Try one," Hexadecimal insisted. Galatea wondered if she was more afraid of the biscuits than she was of upsetting her hostess — although her reasons for wanting to keep Hexadecimal in a good mood were not the same as they had been some minu— no, nanoseconds!—ago. She decided to risk it. She picked up a biscuit from the platter.

"Warning: Incoming Game. Warning: Incoming Game." The clear sky transformed into a boiling purple lighting storm. As a hole opened in the sky directly above, Galatea thought she could hear distant squealing, like that of distressed pigs.

"Eek!" Hexadecimal cried, startled. She compacted herself into her face again and vanished. Galatea was left alone. She saw a great purple block, crackling with energy, emerge from the hole above and descend upon her. This must be one of those Game cubes Mouse told me about, she thought.

Mouse had warned her about Games, and advised her to stay away from them. Dropping the biscuit, Galatea ran to her zipboard, which she had left it on the ground earlier. She llifted it off the ground and stepped on it. But she had not moved fast enough — when she looked up again, the bottom of the Game cube was touching the tops of the surrounding walls. And it was coming down fast…

Hexadecimal materialized, mask first and body after, on Gilded Gate Bridge. Shortly after she had been registered she'd tried to play a Game, only to find out the hard way that her viral powers had little if any effect there. Since then, she had made it a point to avoid Games, even though playing them might have endeared her to Bob.

A flash of silver above caught her eye: it was Bob, flying toward the Game cube. She waved to him, but he didn't notice her. He managed to dart under the descending Game just before it touched down.

Only then did Hexadecimal realize that she had, in her panic, left Galatea alone on the terrace. Right in the path of the Game.

"Oops," she said to nobody in particular.