David Alan Jones


Roman watched Sarah synapse-shunt several thousand lines of code onto the sphere in the space of three seconds.

“What are you doing?” he asked, as his unplugged mind struggled to grasp the tiny program’s function with only the use of unmodified eyes staring at a flat screen.

Sarah smiled as she spoke. “Just tossing a few breadcrumbs into the vacuum of cyberspace.”

“Honey, the goal here was to get out undetected.”


In the next second the screen flashed, blanking out, then popping up several intruder warnings. Someone or something was trespassing on the couple’s solid-state mainframe.

“You’ve done it now,” said Roman, folding his arms.

“Watch,” repeated Sarah.

The warnings disappeared, replaced by running code underneath. Lines of C-binary(synaptic) or (CbiS) flashed, paused, and flashed again, too fast for Roman to follow.

Sarah, who was still plugged into the Syn-Baud NeuroShunt, began to snicker. “It’s working,” she whispered, and there was a conspiratorial lilt to her voice.

Another moment and the kids were yelling from their room. Suze, their oldest, was the first to reach the study.

“Mom!” she whined. “That wasn’t fair.  Those little viruses you planted fried our hard drive.”

“Yeah,” said six-year-old David. “That’s fighting dirty, mommy!”

“Adapt and overcome, that’s the rule to cybergliding, kiddos,” said Sarah as she unplugged her NeuroShunt and turned to face them. “Now get upstairs and brush your teeth. I’ll have your hard drive back in one piece by the time you’re done. Tomorrow we’re practicing the Dachau defense. You’d better study or I’ll have your journals posted on the sphere by dinnertime.”





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