hall of Fotheringhay Castle ... All of this I told the future Turing in the midst of the storm ... The city shrouded in mist. Like the messages. We wound up drenched ... Huge raindrops running down our faces. Our pants were soaked. Our shoes were waterlogged. It didn't matter ... The future Turing saw himself as a Phelippes.
He saw himself as I saw myself. As I have always seen myself ... I, who have no beginning and do not know if I will have an end. He saw himself helping to disarm a conspiracy ... Forming part of history. The secret possessor of secrets ... He saw that he could be more than he was. He saw that deciphering codes was not a game ... Lives were at stake. The destinies of countries. Of kingdoms. A correct deciphering would abolish chance...
He's been with me ever since. Never abandoning me. Electric ant ... Connected to tubes that keep it alive. Connected to tubes that keep me alive. Or would my heart continue to beat even if there were no tubes?
Chapter 11
Y OU WALK into the living room, a glass of whiskey in your hand, the ice rattling in the amber liquid. You sit down on the green velvet sofa and turn on the television, anxious to delay your encounter with Ruth in the bedroom. It's a strange game without any winners. She does the same thing, closeting herself in the study preparing for classes, correcting exams, reading the biographies of scientists and spies. There are nights when the bedroom remains empty until the early morning. Sometimes you sleep on the sofa, cursing Ruth out loud, insults that you will have forgotten by morning, while she, plagued by insomnia, her body immune to sleeping pills, invents work to fill the time.
The whiskey no longer burns your throat but slides down naturally, as tends to happen as the evening wears on, after the first few glasses. You become lost in thought, counting the vertical brown stripes on the sofa.
The announcer with a trimmed beard on the main news channel is announcing the attack that was perpetrated by the Resistance and turns the story over to a reporter at the entrance to the Presidential Palace. The virus has swept through government computers, and none of its Web sites have been left untouched (nor was GlobaLux safe from the attack). Images of the graffiti on the sites are broadcast: photos of Montenegro with a noose around his neck, insults about the technocrats who are governing the country without understanding it. The secretary of state has declared a state of emergency. The Workers' Union and well-known civic and indigenous leaders have expressed their solidarity with the hackers. The Coalition is continuing its preparations for the blockade of Rio Fugitivo tomorrow. You can picture the young cryptanalysts and software code experts at the Black Chamber, high on adrenaline, in search of the clues that will lead them to the perpetrators. They will call soon, and you will have to go back to the office. They need your experience to trace the history of the evasive Resistance, to find coincidences in the encrypted code, the sometimes invisible signature that the murderer leaves behind on the body, the fingerprints left at the scene of the crime. They need the memory of the archives, which is not entirely artificial yet but soon will be. RamÃrez-Graham has ordered that all documents be scanned and digitizedâdrawer after drawer of papers. In the end, all of the papers stored in the basement will be transferred to the hard drive of some minuscule computer.
Ruth appears in the doorway wearing a cream-colored flowered robe, a cigarette in her hand. She seems nervous. You turn off the television.
"Have you heard the news?"
"Yes, unfortunately. I'll probably have to go back to the office."
"Flavia's in Playground, as usual. We really have to limit her time. The bill last month was far too high."
"Yes, something will have to be done. Just be patientâit's her last month of classes."
"Oh, I'll speak to her. She's got you wrapped around her
He saw himself as I saw myself. As I have always seen myself ... I, who have no beginning and do not know if I will have an end. He saw himself helping to disarm a conspiracy ... Forming part of history. The secret possessor of secrets ... He saw that he could be more than he was. He saw that deciphering codes was not a game ... Lives were at stake. The destinies of countries. Of kingdoms. A correct deciphering would abolish chance...
He's been with me ever since. Never abandoning me. Electric ant ... Connected to tubes that keep it alive. Connected to tubes that keep me alive. Or would my heart continue to beat even if there were no tubes?
Chapter 11
Y OU WALK into the living room, a glass of whiskey in your hand, the ice rattling in the amber liquid. You sit down on the green velvet sofa and turn on the television, anxious to delay your encounter with Ruth in the bedroom. It's a strange game without any winners. She does the same thing, closeting herself in the study preparing for classes, correcting exams, reading the biographies of scientists and spies. There are nights when the bedroom remains empty until the early morning. Sometimes you sleep on the sofa, cursing Ruth out loud, insults that you will have forgotten by morning, while she, plagued by insomnia, her body immune to sleeping pills, invents work to fill the time.
The whiskey no longer burns your throat but slides down naturally, as tends to happen as the evening wears on, after the first few glasses. You become lost in thought, counting the vertical brown stripes on the sofa.
The announcer with a trimmed beard on the main news channel is announcing the attack that was perpetrated by the Resistance and turns the story over to a reporter at the entrance to the Presidential Palace. The virus has swept through government computers, and none of its Web sites have been left untouched (nor was GlobaLux safe from the attack). Images of the graffiti on the sites are broadcast: photos of Montenegro with a noose around his neck, insults about the technocrats who are governing the country without understanding it. The secretary of state has declared a state of emergency. The Workers' Union and well-known civic and indigenous leaders have expressed their solidarity with the hackers. The Coalition is continuing its preparations for the blockade of Rio Fugitivo tomorrow. You can picture the young cryptanalysts and software code experts at the Black Chamber, high on adrenaline, in search of the clues that will lead them to the perpetrators. They will call soon, and you will have to go back to the office. They need your experience to trace the history of the evasive Resistance, to find coincidences in the encrypted code, the sometimes invisible signature that the murderer leaves behind on the body, the fingerprints left at the scene of the crime. They need the memory of the archives, which is not entirely artificial yet but soon will be. RamÃrez-Graham has ordered that all documents be scanned and digitizedâdrawer after drawer of papers. In the end, all of the papers stored in the basement will be transferred to the hard drive of some minuscule computer.
Ruth appears in the doorway wearing a cream-colored flowered robe, a cigarette in her hand. She seems nervous. You turn off the television.
"Have you heard the news?"
"Yes, unfortunately. I'll probably have to go back to the office."
"Flavia's in Playground, as usual. We really have to limit her time. The bill last month was far too high."
"Yes, something will have to be done. Just be patientâit's her last month of classes."
"Oh, I'll speak to her. She's got you wrapped around her
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