The morning of the nineteenth day found Kandryl growing more and more frustrated and concerned with the passing time. He still did not know how Djaisiuk had managed to access the external controls. He did not know what the strange program was designed to do nor when it would do it. They had, in the very early hours of the morning, finally found a small bit of evidence that had securely linked Djaisiuk's unauthorized access to the strange program. Kandryl had then concentrated all of their efforts on discovering exactly what this program was intended to do. The writing process within the program was nearly inextricable; it was constantly changing, and no one could yet predict what it would do next. Several workers were still working on it constantly.
In the meantime, Drayl had been unable to draw any more information from Djaisiuk than an admission that he had written the incriminating code. Drayl had indicated that he expected to be able to learn more, given time, but Kandryl also knew that every hour Djaisiuk spent under Drayl's control was a great risk to Djaisiuk's life. Moru had also suggested a few more techniques to try, and Kandryl was still considering these. Again and again the question came back to time. How much time did he have? The program may finish at any time, and then would the hold still secure it?
The door to his small office opened to admit the officer in charge of studying the strange program. His expression looked pleased but uncertain.
"Sir, I believe that we've been able to break the coding of the program," he said. "We think that we now know exactly what it was designed to do, though we are still unsure about its purpose."
Kandryl frowned. "What do you mean?" he asked. "What is it designed to do?"
"It will complete its work of writing itself in less than two days, or in about thirty-nine hours, to be exact," the officer replied. "It somehow keeps a record of everyone who has worked on researching it, and, once it has finished, it will send each of them some sort of message. If it finds that no one has studied it, it will simply erase itself. Indeed, after it has sent its . . . missive, it will then too erase itself."
"What?" asked Kandryl, his frown deepening. "That makes no sense."
"I know, sir, and that is why I say that we think that we know," replied the officer, somewhat uncertainly. "If the answer were different, then I would say that I was certain, for I do not doubt our work; but the conclusion makes no sense."
"Have you a copy of the message that it supposed to send?" asked Kandryl.
"Yes, sir," said the officer. He drew out a sheet of paper on which were some printed lines, and he handed this to Kandryl. "I don't know whether it is simply Komislavian humor or something darker, but it seems to make no sense. I can't tell whether it is a taunt or a riddle or something different altogether."
Kandryl accepted the sheet of paper and read:
Read Ye Well And
Enter In
Do Not Fear
How I Will Win
Examine Closely
Return Again
Remember Lest
I Come Back Then
Now The Game Is At An End
Gamble With Me, And You'll Lose, My Friend
Kandryl's face grew dark as he read the strange lines. The insolence was unbelievable! Kandryl had previously been pleased with the seeming Vukasovian tendencies shown in Djaisiuk, but now that this same formerly admirable trait was being used to taunt Kandryl himself, it was no longer amusing. But what did the lines mean? This was either a strange riddle or the ramblings of a mind that had taken leave of its moorings; that was obvious. It was not like anything that he would have expected from Djaisiuk. But, then again, what could one ever expect from Djaisiuk other than the unexpected? There was meaning behind the words, surely, but what was it? He stared hard at the lines, oblivious of the officer standing silently before him, and read them again and again.
Before a full minute had passed, a slow transformation came over Kandryl's face. The confusion and frustration all melted away to give way first to understanding and then quickly to fury. Standing suddenly to his feet, he snatched up the paper, crumpled it in one hand, and threw it violently across the room. The officer took a quick step back, obviously intimidated by the fury blazing in Kandryl's eyes.
"You may go!" snapped Kandryl, his voice hoarse as he tried to hold his emotions in check.
The officer did not wait to ask questions. He saluted quickly as he turned and left the room.
Kandryl seated himself again, pressing his hands against the desk. Djaisiuk had defied him for the last time. This was insupportable. So Djaisiuk wanted to play with him, did he? So be it; Djaisiuk would learn what it meant to compete on a Vukasovian playing field. Kandryl would have the information that he wanted at any cost. Djaisiuk would divulge the information today, or he would not live to see tomorrow. All tactics would be employed: mental and physical. Whatever suggestion either of the two doctors might have would be tried. Thirty-nine hours, was it, until the program was to complete? Well, Djaisiuk had now eighteen hours in which to tell Kandryl what he wished to know or to know that he would never tell anyone anything again.
In the meantime, Drayl had been unable to draw any more information from Djaisiuk than an admission that he had written the incriminating code. Drayl had indicated that he expected to be able to learn more, given time, but Kandryl also knew that every hour Djaisiuk spent under Drayl's control was a great risk to Djaisiuk's life. Moru had also suggested a few more techniques to try, and Kandryl was still considering these. Again and again the question came back to time. How much time did he have? The program may finish at any time, and then would the hold still secure it?
The door to his small office opened to admit the officer in charge of studying the strange program. His expression looked pleased but uncertain.
"Sir, I believe that we've been able to break the coding of the program," he said. "We think that we now know exactly what it was designed to do, though we are still unsure about its purpose."
Kandryl frowned. "What do you mean?" he asked. "What is it designed to do?"
"It will complete its work of writing itself in less than two days, or in about thirty-nine hours, to be exact," the officer replied. "It somehow keeps a record of everyone who has worked on researching it, and, once it has finished, it will send each of them some sort of message. If it finds that no one has studied it, it will simply erase itself. Indeed, after it has sent its . . . missive, it will then too erase itself."
"What?" asked Kandryl, his frown deepening. "That makes no sense."
"I know, sir, and that is why I say that we think that we know," replied the officer, somewhat uncertainly. "If the answer were different, then I would say that I was certain, for I do not doubt our work; but the conclusion makes no sense."
"Have you a copy of the message that it supposed to send?" asked Kandryl.
"Yes, sir," said the officer. He drew out a sheet of paper on which were some printed lines, and he handed this to Kandryl. "I don't know whether it is simply Komislavian humor or something darker, but it seems to make no sense. I can't tell whether it is a taunt or a riddle or something different altogether."
Kandryl accepted the sheet of paper and read:
Read Ye Well And
Enter In
Do Not Fear
How I Will Win
Examine Closely
Return Again
Remember Lest
I Come Back Then
Now The Game Is At An End
Gamble With Me, And You'll Lose, My Friend
Kandryl's face grew dark as he read the strange lines. The insolence was unbelievable! Kandryl had previously been pleased with the seeming Vukasovian tendencies shown in Djaisiuk, but now that this same formerly admirable trait was being used to taunt Kandryl himself, it was no longer amusing. But what did the lines mean? This was either a strange riddle or the ramblings of a mind that had taken leave of its moorings; that was obvious. It was not like anything that he would have expected from Djaisiuk. But, then again, what could one ever expect from Djaisiuk other than the unexpected? There was meaning behind the words, surely, but what was it? He stared hard at the lines, oblivious of the officer standing silently before him, and read them again and again.
Before a full minute had passed, a slow transformation came over Kandryl's face. The confusion and frustration all melted away to give way first to understanding and then quickly to fury. Standing suddenly to his feet, he snatched up the paper, crumpled it in one hand, and threw it violently across the room. The officer took a quick step back, obviously intimidated by the fury blazing in Kandryl's eyes.
"You may go!" snapped Kandryl, his voice hoarse as he tried to hold his emotions in check.
The officer did not wait to ask questions. He saluted quickly as he turned and left the room.
Kandryl seated himself again, pressing his hands against the desk. Djaisiuk had defied him for the last time. This was insupportable. So Djaisiuk wanted to play with him, did he? So be it; Djaisiuk would learn what it meant to compete on a Vukasovian playing field. Kandryl would have the information that he wanted at any cost. Djaisiuk would divulge the information today, or he would not live to see tomorrow. All tactics would be employed: mental and physical. Whatever suggestion either of the two doctors might have would be tried. Thirty-nine hours, was it, until the program was to complete? Well, Djaisiuk had now eighteen hours in which to tell Kandryl what he wished to know or to know that he would never tell anyone anything again.
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