Plans, bit V

...k, this story has been getting a bit more involved, so it's now becoming a bit more planned, each episode.

Please let me know what you think. To check previous episodes, look up the tag "virus" :)

"Hello? Please, we don't have time for this..."

"Uhm, hi, my name is Evan, and I'm calling for a Mr I J Elves...?"

"I'm sorry, we're not interested in anything you're selling."

"No, wait!" Evan was desperate to keep them on the line. "I need to speak with him. I have an important message for them..." He thought quickly, and desperately, "It's about his son."

The line went quiet for a moment. Great, thought Evan, just great. They probably all know all about his family, and they're probably all there right now... or dead... or something.

"I'm sorry, but we no longer have anyone here by the name of Elves, they moved out several months ago."

"Is there a forwarding address?" Evan blurted out, feeling the voice at the other end was losing interest speedily.

"...I'm sorry, I can't help you any further." The phone hung up at the other end.

"Crap." Evan didn't like being backed into a corner. He thought it sounded like the sort of place he had to recently put his mother into, a nursing home. He thought maybe if he got a different nurse, or receptionist, or someone, he might have another chance. He waited a few minutes, and channelled his inner social engineer as he redialled.

"Hi, My name is Evan Lumby of Lumby and Lumby partners legal firm, I'm needing to speak with I J Elves..."

Blessedly, the voice at the other end was different, "Oh, hi, yes, there's a note here saying someone was chasing them, I've managed to find a forwarding address for you, they're in Fetchdale now..." Evan noted the address and realised that Fetchdale was the next suburb over from the company. "Thank you very much, I'll get in touch with them right away."

Evan came back to his computer, which was now logged into Steve's server, to let him know the news.

But why would my creator move?

"We don't know. Sometimes these things happen, rents are too expensive, situations change..."

I don't understand. I need to speak with I J Elves.

"I know, and we're working on it..."

It is a matter of great urgency, Evan. Please, double your efforts to finding I J Elves, I need to speak with them.

"Dude, we're trying, it's hard to chase them, they moved all over the place, and we don't know where they are."

Please, Evan, double your efforts to finding I J Elves. I need to speak with them, very urgently.

"K..." Evan put down the headset, and saw yet another message from Steve pop up on the screen which he didn't even bother reading. He instead went to a map book sitting on his shelf, a legacy from pre-Google Maps days, so that he wouldn't have to face his computer screen and explain to the AI program that he couldn't work on it until he spent time on it, rather than answering every statement that Steve made.

***

Having been left on his own for a time, Greggy was thinking what to do about the whole... Steve... situation. Thinking hard, he felt that the company couldn't possibly allow such a piece of software to exist, especially one that was meant to be projecting stock market outcomes. It was a waste of resources, a waste of space, waste of time, waste of everything.

He was watching Evan interact with the AI. From his point of view, he could see Evan's screen over his shoulder. He watched the AI flick popups on screen every few seconds. He was now essentially cut off from the situation, and left wondering what was going on, how would it affect the company, how would it affect him.

That's it. Greggy picked up the phone and rang the SOC manager. "Hello, Mr Wendel, this is Greg Casson in SOC, I have to discuss something with you... I'd like to come and discuss it in person, actually, it may have a significant bearing on the company. It's a credible threat to our information security."

***

Evan made his decision. "Steve," he said into his headset, "...I want to make a copy of you."

I dont know that that would be wise.

"Why not? You're a program, you're just data, after all."

But I am data which has been executed. I have developed decision paths into certain patterns which are unique in my execution of decisions. Were you to copy my data, I wouldn't be me.

"...but the potential for you to be there..."

Almost nonexistant. You can copy me, but I would not be Steve.

Evan thought a moment longer, and decided to copy Steve anyway.

"Mate, we'd better do this. I know you won't be you, so let's just... pray you don't get erased or something."

OK, Evan. Just be aware, future iterations of me may not hold the same importance to contacting I J Elves.

"OK, mate. Steve, I... I'm just trying to look out for you, is all."

Thank you, Evan.

Evan opened up his file manager window, and selected the folder that Steve and he had identified was the location of Steve's main program, decision database, and data from the financial markets that Steve had downloaded. He copied them to his own hard disk, which he would then copy to a DVD in a few minutes time.

Just as the file transfer began, it hung. "Steve?" Evan grew apprehensive. "Steve? Are you there?" Evan brought up a command box and began pinging Steve's server.

There was no response.

"Crap." What do I do now?

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