Terminal Compromise by Winn Schwartau (ebooks children's books free .txt) 📕

exorbitant costs associated with your studies and would not

expect your efforts, on my behalf of course, to go unrewarded.”

George Toft was negotiating with a man he had never met, for a

task as yet unstated. The only reason he didn’t feel the discom-

fort that one should in such a situation is that he was in

desperate need of money. And, this stranger did seem to know who

he was, and did need his particular type of expertise, whatever

that was.

“What exactly do you require of me, Alex. That is, what form of

representation have you in mind?” He might as well find out what

he was supposed to do before naming a price.

Alex laughed. “Merely to be my voice. It is so simple, really.

In exchange for that, and some travel, first class and all ex-

penses to which you are accustomed, you will be handsomely paid.”

Alex looked for Sir George’s reaction to the proposed fees. He

was pleased with what he saw in George’s face.

As George ruminated his good fortune and the Metaxa, Alex contin-

ued.

“The job is quite simple, really, but requires a particular

delicacy with which you are well acquainted. Each day you will

receive a list of names. There will be instructions with each

name. Call them at the numbers provided. Say only what is writ-

ten. Keep notes of each call you make and I will provide you

with the means to transmit them to me in the strictest of confi-

dence. You and I will have no further personal contact, either if

you accept or do not accept my proposition. If we are able to

reach mutually agreeable terms, monies will be wired to a bank

account in your name.” Alex opened his jacket and handed George

an envelop. “This is an advance if you accept. It is $25,000

American. There is a phone number to call when you arrive in San

Francisco. Follow the instructions explicitly. If you do not,

there will be no lists for you, no additional monies and I will

want this money back. Any questions Sir George?” Alex was

smiling warmly but as serious as a heart attack.

Alex scanned the contents of the envelope. America. He had

always wanted to see the States.

“Yes, Alex, I do have one question. Is this legal?” George

peered at Alex for a clue.

“Do you really care?”

“No.”

“Off you go then. And good luck.”

Sir George Sterling arrived in San Francisco airport the follow-

ing evening. He flew first class and impressed returning Ameri-

can tourists with his invented pedigree and his construed impor-

tance. What fun. After the virtually nonexistent customs check,

he called the number inside the envelop. It rang three times

before answering. Damn, it was a machine, he thought.

“Welcome to the United States, Sir George. I hope you had a good

flight.” The voice was American, female, and flight attendant

friendly. “Please check into the San Francisco Airport Hilton.

You will receive a call at 11 AM tomorrow. Good night.” A dial

tone replaced the lovely voice. He dialed the number again.

A mechanical voice responded instead. “The number you have called

in no longer in service. Please check the number or call the

operator for assistance. The number you have called is no longer

in service…”

George dialed the number twice more before he gave up in frustra-

tion. He had over $20,000 in cash, knew no one in America and for

the first time in years, he felt abandoned. What kind of joke

was this? Fly half way around the world and be greeted with an

out of service number. But the first voice had known his name.

The Hilton. Why not?

At precisely 11AM, the phone in Sir George Sterling’s suite rang.

He was still somewhat jet lagged from his 18 hours of flying and

the span of 10 time zones. The Eggs Benedict was exquisite, but

Americans could learn something about tea. The phone rang again.

He casually picked it up.

“Good morning, Sir George. Please get a pencil and paper. You

have fifteen seconds and then I will continue.” It was the same

alluring voice from yesterday. The paper and pen were right there

at the phone so he waited through 14 seconds of silence. “Very

good. Please check out of the hotel and pay cash. Proceed to the

San Francisco airport and from a pay phone, call 5-5-5-3-4-5-6 at

1 P.M. Have a note book and two pens with you. Good Bye. ”

The annoying dial tone returned. What a bloody waste of time.

At 1P.M. he called the number as he was instructed. He figured

that since he was to have a notebook and pens he might need to

write for a while, so he used one of the phone booths that pro-

vides a seat and large writing surface.

“Good afternoon Sir George. In ten seconds, your instructions

will begin.” Again, that same voice, but it almost appeared

condescending to him now. Isn’t that the way when you can’t

respond. The voice continued. “Catch the next flight to New

York City. Stay at the Grand Hyatt Hotel at Grand Central Sta-

tion on 42nd. Street and Park Avenue. Not a suite this time, Sir

George, just a regular room.” Sir George was startled at Alex’s

attention to detail.

“You will stay there for fourteen days. On 56th. street and

Madison avenue is a school called CTI, Computer Training Insti-

tute. You are to go to CTI and enroll in the following classes:

DOS, that’s D-O-S for beginners, Intermediate DOS and Advanced

DOS. You will also take WordPerfect I and II. Lastly, and most

importantly you will take all three classes on Tele-Communica-

tions. They call it TC-I, TC-II and TC-III. These eight class-

es will take you ten days to complete. Do not forget to pay in

cash. I will now pause for ten seconds.” Alex was writing furi-

ously. Computers? He was scared silly of them. Not that he had

ever had the opportunity or the need or the desire to use them,

just from lack of exposure and the corresponding ignorance. But

if this meant he could keep the $25,000 he would do it. What the

hell.

“After you enroll, go to 45 West 47th street to a store called

Discount Computer Shoppe. Buy the following equipment with cash.

One Pro-Start 486-80 computer with 8 Meg RAM. That’s 8 M-E-G R-

A-M and ask for a high resolution color monitor. Also purchase,

and have them install a high speed modem, M-O-D-E-M. Do not, I

repeat, do not purchase a printer of any type. No printers Sir

George. You are never to use a printer. Ever. Lastly, you will

purchase a copy of Word Perfect and Crosstalk. If you wish any

games for your amusement, that is up to you. When you have

completed your studies you will call 212-555-6091. Do not call

that number before you have completed your studies. This is

imperative.”

Sir George was just writing, not comprehending a thing. It was

all gibberish to him. Pure gibberish.

“Sir George.” The female voice got serious, very serious for the

first time in their relationship. “You are to speak to no one, I

repeat, no one, of the nature of your business, the manner in

which you receive instructions, or why computers have a sudden

interest for you. Otherwise our deal is off and your advance will

be expected to be returned. Am I clear?”

George responded quickly, “Yes!” before seeing the lunacy of

answering a machine.

“Good,” the voice was friendly again. “Learn your lessons well

for you will need the knowledge to perform your tasks. Until we

speak again, I thank you, Sir George Sterling.” The line went

dead.

George Toft took his computer classes very seriously. He had in

fact bought a few games to amuse himself and he found himself

really enjoying the work. It was new, and exciting. His only

social distractions were the sex shops on Times Square. Red

Light Amsterdam or the Hamburg they weren’t, so midnight antics

with the Mario Brothers prevailed most evenings. Besides, there

was a massive amount of homework. Bloody hell, back to school.

He excelled in his studies which pleased George a great deal. In

fact most of the students in Sir George’s computer classes ex-

celled. The teachers were very pleased to have a group of stu-

dents that actually progressed more rapidly than the curriculum

called for. Pleasant change from the E Train Bimbos from Queens.

The computer teachers didn’t know that a vast majority of the

class members had good reason to study hard. Most of them had

received their own $25,000 scholarships.

WTFO

the computer screen displayed. That was hackerese, borrowed from

the military for What The Fuck? Over! It was a friendly greeting

that offended no one.

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