Re: The Show Must Go Off

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Herr D

The Show Must Go Off–part twenty-one

I checked all the arenas on one side of the hallway and went to the nearest kiosk. “A random sample check shows all clear, sir,” I typed without a box. I paused. Then I typed. “May I ask what is happening?”
Then it happened. I was receiving a report about the missing cleaning bot, ESO was sending more reports, and I wasn’t even able to read them. Beatitudes. Psalms. Proverbs. An immense amount of Bible was passing through my head. I was stunned.
I sat there like an idiot. Bible would only pass through my head for one reason. Someone was trying to hack my head! I’d be safe, but crippled electronically until whoever was doing it had their hosting server crash. Since that was probably Upclose, that would be several minutes. That would mean whatever reports were being sent to me were toast. Intact data can be traced, after all. I stood up, frowning with just my own face. I needed to get back on camera! I needed to know whether somebody knew about ME. I needed to know whether a radio modem was suspected. My signal might not be traced, but in theory it could be triangulated or jammed. The whole set of bluffs I’d been running might just come crashing down. I took a chance. I set the BibleCrash to automultiply toward every server around and shut down the modem.