The Devil You Know: A Novel by Elisabeth de Mariaffi Read Free Book Online Page B

going back over a hundred years.
    So I can use this at home, I said. In my kitchen? Info-to-go?
    Pay-for-play, Angie said. Most subscribers are lawyers, police, media. Big corporations with dollars to spend on getting it right.The computer shone a welcome screen at us and Angie fumbled around with the mouse till the pointer sat over the LexisNexis icon. She clicked a few times and a new welcome screen appeared.
    I got a feeling this winter’s going to be high impact, Angie said. Something’s coming. She wrote out a bunch of numbers and letters on a scrap of paper and handed it to me. There’s your password. You change it to something private. Go ahead, I’m not looking.
    She pushed back slightly and let me lean into the blank screen. I went through the motions of password modification and hit Login. The search window opened up black and wide and empty. A bright green cursor blinked at me, waiting.
    Okay, Angie said. What do you wanna know?
    You want me to ask it a question?
    It runs on keywords. Just throw in a few words, like a library search.
    Angie Cavallo , I typed. Toronto Free Press Date Of Birth.
    Good luck, she said. I don’t release that information.
    The screen filled and scrolled down fast, a block of green text.
    The hell you don’t, I said. What is all this? The list rushed down, screen after screen. What the fuck is going on? I said.
    Here, Angie said. Hit some buttons. Hit the F-buttons.
    Which one?
    I don’t know. Just keep hitting them till something works.
    The screen froze.
    FEBRUARY 8 1993: Angie Cavallo: Bell rate hike off the mark
    FEBRUARY 3 1993: Angie Cavallo: These ladies don’t speak for me
    FEBRUARY 1 1993: Angie Cavallo: Job starts up: get back to work
    JANUARY 29 1993: Angie Cavallo: Hard times at Toronto High for teachers’ union
    JANUARY 27 1993: Angie Cavallo: Shame-faced smokers? We’re not gonna take it
    JANUARY 25 1993: Angie Cavallo: Let cops get the job done
    JANUARY 21 1993: Angie Cavallo: Windy City parents strong-arm school
    See? Angie said. It’s just the column. Nice try.
    I looked at my hands on the keyboard. I had an old desktop in my kitchen that I’d used for school assignments, but no one was online in a big way. The Internet was something you read about, or wrote about, in the newspaper. David talked about bulletin boards sometimes and it’s true that I’d been given an e-mail address at the paper; they even paid for dial-up service so that I could check it from home, but I almost never did. Mostly people used a fax machine.
    How do I start over?
    Angie leaned over me and pressed F10 down hard. Nothing happened. She hit it staccato about thirty times in a row.
    Really? I said. This is how you’re doing research?
    Angie leaned harder on the F10. She put some shoulder in it. The screen stayed frozen.
    Vaffancul, she said.
    The big door swung open and Vinh walked in.
    Look who’s here! I said.
    He moved with a hunch to his neck, like someone who spends too much time sitting down. I gave him a big smile and he glanced over one shoulder to see if someone else had walked in right behind him, undetected. Someone I would normally smile at.
    What do you know about computers? I said.
    I got a thing I forgot to file, Vinh said. He waved a box of film at us, then dropped down into his wheelchair and pushed himself across the room to the stacks. We sat and watched him file the item and spin the chair back toward the door.
    Don’t run away, Angie said. You know how to fix this?
    What’d you do? Crash? Vinh rolled over slowly, his hands on the push-rims of the chair.
    It’s frozen, I said.
    Man, you crashed on a search? You probably broke the Internet!
    He reached around to the back of the machine and turned it off and then on again. The hum came up, and the pale blue Windows logo. Vinh got up from the wheelchair.
    What would you ladies do without me?
    Where do I log on again? I said. I pointed at Vinh: Shut up, I’m not asking you.
    I’m gonna stay and watch, Vinh said.