She waved the projection into dark quiescence.
Yet his last words seemed to linger in mid air. “The erasure is coming.”
Raiya had been studying the Lyndau case for two days now. Assigned to her in recognition of her services, according to her boss. Not that there was any accompanying pay rise. Still, this was the diversion she needed. Perhaps the old professor had sensed this, or just no longer wanted charge of ‘the loony physicist’s file-set’ as he had not entirely jokingly referred to the journals. The professor had given them a cursory dismissal diagnosis of ‘indications of insanity’ in his cover comment. The Lyndau diary had been stored at the institute for seventy-eight years, discovered in a crystal memory-tab in an old abandoned apartment that’d been designated for demolition. It was kept under a floorboard already for thirty years. This man, she surmised, had become so paranoid he believed it to be the only safe place to keep his journal, rather than the standard cyber-lockup. All those years. He wanted it found, surely. But after his death?
Her comm buzzed, it was her colleague, Dr Leonard Heigener. His bulky form materialised fully opaque, in his usual mauve shirt, seated in the vacant chair opposite. He was always particular about seeming to be personally present, ever since moving to the US, effectively as a promotion – but he would never admit it was that, not to her anyway. ‘Raiya, I hope I’m not interrupting anything too pressing,’ he said, and without giving her a chance to respond: ‘So you’ve been studying the Lyndau case, I hear.’
‘Would that be through the shrinks’ grapevine?’
‘I’ve been allowed secondary access rights. Conventions are out the window for now.’
‘So whether or not I send you the file is irrelevant, you can just snatch it from the grid.’
‘Raiya, we’re friends.’ She could see the dismay in his life-like image. ‘I just wanted your formal approval.’
‘Sorry, Len. It’s been a tough day. They’re still giving me the usual neurotics.’
‘Yep, there’s nothing like a real shrink, especially when she happens to look as good as you.’
‘Flirting doesn’t become a married man.’ She tried to smile warmly. Lighten the mood.
‘So my wife tells me at dinner parties. But my intentions are honourable this time: I want to know what you’ve made of that file before---’
‘Before you let it influence you personally.’
‘Right. Just need an overview, really.’
‘Then you might be disappointed.’
‘Try me.’
‘Okay. Well I really don’t know if he went insane from internal factors, or outside events – albeit perceived events.’
‘You want to reserve judgement. Prudent.’
‘I’ll send you the file now.’
She gave the protocol. It should have been a simple process, taking only seconds: a level 3 qubit encryption applied before transfer. Instead: ‘Cannot send. Suspected infection – possible Trojan. Please wait,’ her digi-assistant informed in its expressionless tones.
‘I don’t understand,’ Raiya queried. ‘Why did you not detect it sooner?’
‘Ninety-nine point five percent chance it was not present during previous scan.’
‘Less than twenty minutes ago. How could it get infected in that time?’
‘Unknown. Need to run a full systems scan.’
‘Just incredible!’
***