While the computer was chasing her virtual shadow, Jericho had unpacked the rest of the crates and turned the loft into something that pretty nearly resembled a flat. When at last the furniture was in place, the pictures were hanging on the walls and his clothes were in the wardrobe, once everything was tidied away and in its place, and Erik Satie’s Trois Gymnopédies rippled through the room, he felt happy and at peace for the first time in days, free from those images of Shenzhen, and had even lost all interest in Yoyo for the time being.
Owen Jericho, snug in a cocoon of music.
‘Match,’ announced the computer.
Irksome.
So irksome that he decided there and then to dial up the personality protocol by thirty per cent. At least then the computer would sound like someone you could share a coffee or a glass of wine with.
‘There’s a blog entry that looks like Yoyo,’ said the warm female voice, almost human. ‘She posted an entry on Brilliant Shit, a Mando-prog forum. Should I read it out?’
‘Are you sure that it’s Yoyo?’
‘Almost certain. She knows how to cover her tracks. I imagine Yoyo is working with distorters. What do you think?’
Without the personality protocol the remark would have come out as: ‘Eighty-four point seven per cent match. Probability that distorter is being used, ninety point two per cent.’
‘I think it’s very probable that she’s working with distorters,’ Jericho agreed.
Distorters were programs that go over a text and alter the writer’s personal style. They were becoming more and more popular. Some of them rewrote texts using the style of great poets and writers, so that you could dash off a message and have it reach the recipient looking as though it had been written by Thomas Mann, Ernest Hemingway or Jonathan Franzen. Other programs imitated politicians. It became dangerous when malevolent hackers cracked the profiles of other, unsuspecting users and borrowed their style. Many dissidents on the net preferred to use distorters that would rewrite with randomly generated standards, using a variety of styles. The most important thing was that the meaning remain the same.
And that was precisely the weak spot in most programs.
‘Elements in the blog post are not stylistically uniform,’ said the computer. ‘That confirms your theory, Owen.’
A nice touch, using his first name. Polite too to pretend that it had been his theory, as though the computer itself hadn’t suggested that a distorter was at work. God knows, fifty per cent personality protocol was enough. At eighty per cent the computer would be crawling up his backside. Jericho hesitated. In fact he was fed up with calling the thing ‘computer’. What would a girl like this be called? Maybe—
He programs her with a name.
‘Diane?’
‘Yes, Owen?’
Great. He likes Diane. Diane is his new right-hand woman.
‘Please read the entry.’
‘Glad to. Hi all. Back in our galaxy now, have been for a few days. Was really stressed out these last days, is anybody harshing on me? Couldn’t help it, really truly. All happened so fast. Shit. Even so quickly you can be forgotten. Only waiting now for the old demons to visit me once more. Yeah, and, I’m busy writing new songs. If any of the band asks: We’ll make an appearance once I’ve got a few euphonious lyrics on the go. Let’s prog!’
Once again Jericho wonders how the program can identify a writer from such a mishmash, but experience has taught him that even less would be enough. Still, he doesn’t have to understand it. He’s an end-user, not a programmer.
‘Give me an analysis,’ he says. It’s really quite cosy by now, with Satie and this velvet-smooth voice.
‘Of course, Owen.’
That’s to say, this ‘of course’ has to go. It reminds him of HAL 9000 from A Space Odyssey. Ever since the satnav system was invented, every speaking computer has been doing its best to copy crazy HAL.
‘The text is supposed to sound cocky,’ the computer said. ‘The style is broken though by the terms even so quickly and euphonious. The old demons to visit me once more seems rather forced – I don’t believe that the distorter was at work here. Everything else is just minor detail. Lyrics on the go for instance doesn’t fit the style of the second and third sentences.’
‘What do you make of the content?’
‘Hard to say. I might have a couple of suggestions for you. First off, galaxy. That might just be loosely meant, or it might be a synonym for something.’
‘For instance?’
‘Probably for a locality.’
‘Go on.’
‘Demons. You’ve already been looking for demons. I suspect that Yoyo is referring here to the City Demons, or City Daemons.’
‘I’m with you there. By the way, Daemons was a blind alley. Anything else strike you?’
The computer hesitated. The personality protocol once more.
‘I don’t know enough about Yoyo. I could give you about three hundred and eighty thousand variant interpretations of the other wording and phrases.’
‘Put a sock in it,’ Jericho murmured.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.’
‘Doesn’t matter. Please search Shanghai for the word galaxy in connection with some place or other.’
This time the computer didn’t hesitate. ‘No entries.’
‘Good. Locate where the text was sent from.’
‘Of course.’ The computer gave him the coordinates. Jericho is astonished. He hadn’t expected it would be so easy to track back the route the message took. He would have thought that Yoyo would lay a few more false trails when communicating.
‘Are you sure that you haven’t just found an intermediary browser?’
‘One hundred per cent sure, Owen. The message was sent from there at 6.24 local time on the morning of 24th May.’
Jericho nods. That’s good. That’s very good!
And his hope becomes a certainty.
Forgotten World
As Jericho steered his COD along the Huaihai Donglu towards the elway, he went over his conclusions from last night once more.
Hi all. Back in our galaxy now, have been for a few days.
Which could mean, I’ve been back in Quyu for a few days. Obvious. Not so clear though why Yoyo would call Quyu a galaxy. More likely that she meant one particular place in Quyu.
Was really stressed out these last days, is anybody harshing on me?
Stress. Well, obviously.
And why would anybody be angry at her? That was also fairly easily told. Yoyo wasn’t actually asking a question here, she was giving an explanation. That somebody had tracked her down, that this someone was dangerous, and that she didn’t know whom she was dealing with.
Couldn’t help it, really truly. All happened so fast. Shit.
More difficult. She had taken flight at panic speed. But what did the first part mean? What couldn’t she help?
Even so quickly you can be forgotten.
Trivially easy. Quyu, the forgotten world. Almost a platitude. Yoyo must have been in a hurry to get the message out.
Only waiting now for the old demons to visit me once more.
Even easier: City Demons, you know where I am.
Yeah, and, I’m busy writing new songs. If any of the band asks: We’ll make an appearance once I’ve got a few euphonious lyrics on the go. Let’s prog!
Which was as much as to say, I’m trying to get the problems under control as fast as I can. Until then, we’ll disappear.