Kzine Issue 1 by Graeme Hurry et al

Author:Graeme Hurry et al. [al., Graeme Hurry et]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Crime, Science Fiction, Horror, SF, Fantasy
Goodreads: 21335476
Publisher: Kimota Publications
Published: 2011-09-19T23:00:00+00:00

A TEAR IN THE WEB

by Alex Shvartsman

The old man seemed perfectly normal, until he opened his mouth.

He shuffled in at about half past five, pausing by the door to survey the mostly empty rows of computer desks in my Internet Café. There were only a few folks around, checking e-mail. The school kids were already gone for the day, having dropped by for an hour or two to play video games after class. The regulars, who were going to fill up the place until the wee hours of the morning, were just now in the process of escaping from their day jobs. I lounged behind the counter, reading.

The customer looked to be in his late fifties, dressed in slacks and a tweed jacket with elbow patches, like a college professor stereotype in a movie. His outfit was well worn, but clean and tidy. He purchased an hour’s worth of computer time and was about to sit at one of the available terminals, but turned around, and walked back up to the counter instead.

‘Excuse me,’ he said, looking around to see that we weren’t overheard, ‘who handles your servers for you?’

Our ‘servers’ consisted of a single computer that acted as a gateway between user terminals and the Internet. It was at least two years out of date, but it still worked. In a small business you don’t replace stuff until it breaks down. I wasn’t going to explain the facts of life to the old guy though, especially since I had no idea why he cared, anyway.

‘I do,’ I said, looking up from the paperback. In my experience, if you don’t want the conversation to continue, brevity is the way to go. It was going to get busy soon, and I hoped to finish the chapter before then.

‘And are your servers located on the premises, or somewhere else?’ he asked.

‘They are located here.’ For the purpose of this exercise, our server PC was going to be referred to in plural.

‘Does anyone else have access to them?’ he continued to prod.

‘No,’ I said. ‘No one touches them but our staff.’

‘I see,’ said the old man. ‘And who is the owner of this place?’

‘I am.’ My policy of brevity was failing miserably at ending this conversation, but I did not have a better plan.

‘And what’s your name?’

Whoever coined the cliché about customers always being right clearly did not spend any time working behind the counter.

‘Ted,’ I said.

‘Ted what?’

This was getting kind of ridiculous. ‘Ted Ingardi,’ I said, the last vestiges of my patience fleeing like rats from a sinking ship.

‘And you are really the owner?’

I was trying to be polite. In this economy, every customer counts. Still, there are limits.

‘No,’ I said with as much sarcasm as my tone would convey. ‘I am lying to you. I am actually the janitor.’

He got the hint, this time. ‘I am sorry,’ he said. ‘I did not mean to insult you. It’s just that you are so young. I was a bit surprised, that’s all.’

I looked at him, saying nothing.

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