Cat’s Nines

by Robert H. Prestridge

conclusion

Dunninger was at home, drinking coffee with Evelyn, when Baanders scanthought a message to him.

We need you in the office immediately, Frank.

If it’s—

Arnie struck again.

I’m on my way, Dunninger scanthought. The implants troubleshooter grimaced.

“Don’t tell me,” Evelyn said.

Dunninger stood. “Exactly.”

“Is it bad?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Dunninger went to the control center after arriving at the Puget Sound offices. Baanders was pacing the floor. Several implants troubleshooters were jacked into the System, streaming data pouring into their feeds.

“This is insane,” Dunninger said to Turlough. “What’s going on?”

Turlough, a troubleshooter, shook his head in obvious dismay. He unjacked himself from the System and placed his face in his hands. He was sweating heavily, even though the control center was cool, and his hands were pale and trembling.

Turlough wept.

Baanders stood next to Dunninger, who glanced at his boss, and then studied the monitors.

“They’ve now gone into Montreal,” Baanders said, shaking his head. “And now Kingston. And now Quito. The media are going to tear us apart.”

Dunninger felt nauseated. He raised a hand to pardon himself, ran out of the control center, and found the nearest restroom. He emptied the contents of his stomach into a toilet and squatted, breathing heavily.

Afterward, he rinsed out his mouth, washed his face, and looked at himself in the mirror. He knew that he couldn’t take it much longer without cracking.

But one thing for sure was this: he wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

Back in the control center, Dunninger watched troubleshooter after troubleshooter collapse from nervous exhaustion.

Dunninger sat in a chair and jacked himself into the System. Seconds later, data sped into his body, and Dunninger grunted, feeling as if someone had struck him in the solar plexus. He was now fighting a virus that had infected a taco vendor in Monterrey.

Dunninger moved on to fight another virus, this one in Fiji.

Hiya, hiya, hiya, Frankie. Cat’s nines, remember?

The implants troubleshooter didn’t respond, but continued his work.

Arnie cackled and seemingly disappeared somewhere into the System.

* * *

Dunninger was sitting in his study. He felt like a man whose aching and pierced arms had been outstretched far too long.

He had done it all right. He had destroyed them all, the virus attacks, not only through the System at Baanders, but by making house calls around the world for two weeks, keeping himself fueled with vanilla-flavored nutrients tabs and plenty of neo-caffeine. Of course, he had quaffed a Corona or two, when he had the chance, to offset the migraines.

But regardless of his herculean efforts, Dunninger had not caught Arnie.

And that was the main thing.

Evelyn sat beside him. He didn’t have to look at her to know that she had been crying. He felt like such a failure.

“You can’t do this any longer, Frank,” she said, her voice soft. “Please quit. It’s just not worth it anymore.”

Dunninger tongued his dry lips. His throat felt parched and his heart was pounding.

Sleep, his long-lost friend, was on its way, whether Dunninger wanted it to or not.

“No, Ev.”

“Just let Arnie win.”

“I can’t—”

She placed a hand on his. “Just this one time.”

“You’re a saint, Ev, you know that?”

“Come on, mister, stand up.”

She helped him to stand. Dunninger’s mind wanted him to remain in the study. His body, however, wanted something else.

Dunninger’s body won.

Evelyn led him to their bedroom. The bed was warm and comforting. Dunninger closed his eyes. Phosphenes danced on the back of his eyelids, reminding him of lions that he had seen on a savanna in Africa.

Evelyn kissed his forehead. “My hero.”

“I’m going to get Arnie, Ev.”

“You’re going to sleep, that’s what you’re going to do, mister. And first thing in the morning, you’re going to the doctor.”

Sleep, Dunninger’s long-lost friend, arrived before she left the room.

* * *

The next morning, Dunninger’s wife drove him to their doctor’s office in downtown Kirkland.

“You’re fortunate that you didn’t have a coronary thrombosis,” the doctor said. “As for your kidneys, they’ve taken a beating and a half, and so has your spleen. In addition, you have pneumonia in the lower lobes of both lungs. And your stomach implant seems to be a bit off. We can replace that once you get better.”

“Is that all, Dr. Wong?” Dunninger asked.

The doctor scowled and injected Dunninger with antibiotics. “No, that is not all, Mr. Dunninger. For the next few months you are to do nothing but rest, eat, rest, eat, and enjoy the company of Evelyn, all in that order.” Dr. Wong glowered at Dunninger. “I mean it, Frank. There might not be a next time.”

“That’s what Evelyn says.”

“Your wife is correct.” The doctor frowned. “Your workaholic days are over. Now, have I made myself clear?”

“Very clear, Maynard.”

Dr. Wong dismissed the implants troubleshooter with a wave of a hand, and Dunninger left the office, Evelyn driving him back home.

Dunninger slept the next three days and nights. The third night, he awoke and discovered a scanthought from Evelyn in his queue: she had gone to help one of their neighbors find a lost cat.

Dunninger sat up and rubbed his eyes with his palms.

Hiya, hiya, hiya, Frank.

What do you want, Arnie?

Dunninger knew, all right, what Arnie wanted but didn’t want to give it to the punk.

You know what I want, Frank.

I’m not going to give it to you, Arnie. You haven’t won. Not yet.

Just admit it and I’ll stop. Cat’s nines, right?

Wrong.

Dunninger stood, wobbling. He exited the bedroom and lumbered down the hallway.

It ends now, Arnie.

Arnie cackled.

In the study, Dunninger sat down in his chair. And I don’t care if I die or not. I am going stop you.

The implants troubleshooter prepared his wrist for symbiosis with the System.

You won’t win, Frank.

We’ll see about that.

Dunninger stopped. Hadn’t he checked all libraries, databases, and records within the System? Hadn’t he searched and searched? He had, yet he had not searched one place, which was the last place where he would have looked.

Dunninger grimaced, feeling like a fool for a brief moment.

Arnie?

Yes, Frankie baby?

You’re not as smart as you think.

Oh?

I’m not jacked into the System, Arnie. And I’m hearing your voice. You gave yourself away, my friend.

Don’t you even think about it, Frank—

Dunninger jacked himself into the System. He ordered nano-engineered anti-viruses to attack the implant in his stomach.

Arnie was fighting back hard, attempting to penetrate Dunninger’s mind. The implants troubleshooter groaned, sweating profusely, heart pounding. It was not a matter of technology conquering technology: it was a matter of Dunninger prevailing over Arnie, which was not some low-life punk implants hacker, but a malicious virus with a very strong will of its own.

Arnie shrieked. Won’t win, won’t win, won’t win...

And Dunninger fought harder and harder against the virus until it felt as if his arteries and veins, even his very own soul, would explode.

* * *

Evelyn later told Dunninger that she had found him lying on the floor of the study. She had thought that he had had a heart attack until, after touching him, he had opened his eyes and looked up at her, smiling.

Dunninger remembered his waking up. He had been dreaming of lions.

“It’s finished,” Dunninger said, smiling.

He didn’t remember anything after that.

* * *

Dunninger and Evelyn walked hand in hand down a beach on the Oregon coast. It was dawn, and the air smelled of krill, an odor that tickled Dunninger’s nostrils. Rock formations in the ocean looked like castles that would stand there for an eternity.

The implants troubleshooter didn’t care about eternity, though. All he cared about that moment was being with Evelyn.

Evelyn shook her head, her hair glowing orange in rays of sun.

“I still can’t believe it,” she said.

Dunninger smiled. “When you need to find something, where’s the last place that you look? Obviously, in the place where you should have looked to begin with, which in this case was my own implant.”

“But how did your implant get infected?” she said.

“By not following my own security advice.” He shook his head. “It was simply a case of physician heal thyself. Arnie had lots of time to become a malicious ultra-virus. And when I fell asleep in my study from exhaustion, I was still jacked into the System. Arnie was able to work his shenanigans from there while I was asleep, without my knowledge.”

They stopped at the water-worn boulder of which Evelyn had spoken. Evelyn peered into Dunninger’s eyes.

“Ready?” she said.

Dunninger nodded.

He stuck his hand into his shirt pocket and removed the stomach implant that had contained the virus named Arnie.

Dunninger handed the implant to Evelyn, who placed it on top of the water-worn boulder. She knelt, picked up a rock twice the size of her fist, and struck the implant several times. She offered the rock to Dunninger, who knelt and pulverized the implant’s remains, which Evelyn then vacuumed up with a titanium all-tool.

Husband and wife stood.

“Race you back to the cabin,” she said.

“What’s the rush, Ev?”

“Oh, you’ll see once we get there.” She made a cat’s rowrring sound.

“You’re on.”

She laughed and sprinted down the beach. Dunninger chased after her.

To Challenge 431...