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VIRUS ATTACK!
by Rick Arnold
A low-level alarm was triggered; those in the monitoring area became
more active. Only a few minutes had passed, and the signal-light was
flashing with increased intensity. Level-2 was bypassed, a level-3
alarm sounded. The levels were almost never skipped -- except under
the most serious intrusions. There was a flurry of activity to find the
entry points into the system and identify the intruder's type.
"Unknown virus currently inside the major data-banks. Stop at all
costs. Extreme danger to all stored data and central processing unit!"
The announcement blared, an unneeded reminder of the consequences if
the life-support systems were shut down.
"How can we possibly stop this virus? It's one of the unknowns, and
spreading at an unheard of rate. The CPU is starting to over-heat --
data banks are still in the safe zone, but climbing at a steady rate.
What should we do, sir?"
"Relax. In over twenty years here, we've always found ways to
stop the unknowns. There's no reason why we shouldn't be able to do so
now. We've always been successful in the past. The initial protection
and cleansing mechanisms should already be interacting . . ."
"Secondary protection measures released into the system," blurted
a monitor.
". . . and that determines appropriate follow-up actions. Then we'll
introduce any additional counter-measures into the system," replied
the watch commander, quite calmly.
"The Level-8 alarm! Level-7 has never been bypassed before. There
are twelve warning levels -- the tenth indicates near certain disaster
to the system," a nearby monitor exclaimed, to no one in particular.
"Prepare to release third-step counter-measures on my command. CPU
status report?" queried the commander, with a noticeable nervousness
entering his voice.
All those stationed in the monitor area were demonstrating their fears
by a flurry of unnecessary and repeated activities. It appeared as though
rechecking their systems a sufficient number of times would somehow prove
there was a false alarm. This was not the case. If the intrusion could
not be stopped, the entire system was in imminent danger of complete and
total shut-down.
"Reboot secondaries. Release third-step counter-measures, NOW! Check
monitor 842. Double-check the last reported address. Monitor group Beta
proceed to area 3. Run a loop-back at the mid-line anterior quadrant,"
short commands were barked and reverberated through the command module.
* * *
He looked up dreamily through overly dilated eyes -- saw people cloaked
in pristine white -- hovering above him, as though floating. He couldn't
see their wings, but tried remembering Angels by name. He felt a sense
of contentment never before attained -- a well being and inner peace. It
seemed he was standing or floating before a tunnel with unusually bright
lights at its end -- beckoning him. He felt his lips and mouth opening in
an ever widening smile . . . .
"WAIT! Angels don't wear white masks," he thought.
* * *
"Clamp his mouth open. We need to pump his stomach. Get the tube inserted
STAT, or we'll lose him," commanded the doctor.
"Huffing," asked an intern?
"Yeah, all the signs," replied the doctor, "and a large quantity of
unknown pills. I'm guessing antihistamines or some type of over-the-counter
cold medication, since the mother said there were no prescription medicines
in the house."
"He's all prepped," stated a nurse.
"Start the pumping procedures. I'll question the mother again about
what he may have ingested," said the doctor.
"Doctor!" she cried. As the doctor left the cubicle, he saw the
mother charging down the aisle towards him, a nurse right on her heels.
She stopped in front of him and threw her hands to her mouth. "Doctor,
is he . . . will he . . . my baby . . . ," the mother asked, her voice
faltering between sobs?
There was a steady beeping, heard from behind the curtain where her
only child lay. "Please calm down. You shouldn't be in this area. We're
doing all we can," replied the doctor.
"What do you . . . think doctor?" She reached out and placed a near
death grip on his wrist and hand. "Will he . . . will he survive?"
The nurse turned to the mother with what could be construed as an
encouraging smile.
The doctor looked deep into her eyes with that omnipotent doctor look,
as though looking through her -- trying to remember rehearsed words.
Then! Replacing the pulsing beeping noise -- a steady tone could be heard.
The doctor's face didn't show any change in expression as he said,
"We're doing everything we can."
# # #
Copyright 1993 Francis U. Kaltenbaugh
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Francis is one of those kinds of authors. I'm still trying to figure his/
her political persuasions. One never knows does one. Writing for escapisim
is a way of life, and sharing is a reward in itself, reports Francis.
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