Doug Larsen: A Portrait of My Grandfather

I felt darned good about what I’d done to Heber. As a matter of fact, it felt great. But it didn’t do anything about Grampa, so I decided to spend the time constructively.

I worked my way through the virtual reality teleconferencing security maze with shaking fingers. Grampa’s notes guided me every step of the way, but I was tense and edgy, especially when I figured out that Grampa had guided me into the message center with the highest level of security possible. It wasn’t just that nobody was allowed to read it—hardly anybody was even allowed to use it.

I figured out that sometimes the communications were teleconferences, but more often they were basically glorified e-mail messages with two-way message capabilities, sophisticated graphics, and the latest in high-level security measures. I was happy to discover that, because those were much easier to monitor. I could rig my computer to record the e-mails when I was at school.

I snooped around in the file, and found some messages that had been sent that day. Already I could see that I had struck oil:

TO: HAWKEY, ADVANCED GAMETEK

FROM: VAN IVES, SKS PRODUCTS

SUBJECT: ADVERTISING STATUS

PLEASE UPDATE ME ON THE STATUS OF THE ADVERTISING MESSAGES PLANNED TO BE PLACED IN NEXT YEAR’S VIDEO GAME RELEASES. I HAVE SOME BRAND NAMES I’D LIKE TO HAVE INCLUDED IF IT’S NOT TOO LATE TO PUT THEM IN.

TO: VAN IVES, SKS PRODUCTS

FROM: HAWKEY, ADVANCED GAMETEK

SUBJECT: STATUS

PLANS FOR THE AD MESSAGES ARE ALMOST FINALIZED. WE CAN INCORPORATE YOUR CHANGE REQUESTS IF THEY ARE MINOR AND DELIVERED QUICKLY.

I monitored the secret message channel for a week, and started fitting some pieces of the puzzle together. I finally figured out that there were four conspirators involved in the advertising campaign, but I wasn’t sure how many were involved in the plot to kill Grampa. But they were all real highly placed: Dirk Klemhauser, the president of the whole SKS Products consortium; Dave Hawkey, the president of Advanced GameTek; Luke Van Ives, the president of the SKS Products tobacco company; and Manny Gunderson, who was only identified as Klemhauser’s special assistant. They all did a lot of talking through the virtual reality teleconferencing because the four were placed in three different cities. Only Gunderson and Klemhauser worked in the same building.

After a week, I had a lot of documentation on the ad messages. Checks on lower security levels showed that they never talked about them unless they were on top security. I got hard copies of everything, but this was just a sidelight. I was interested only in Grampa. Who killed him? Who was going to have to pay?

I hadn’t hacked into their system until long after the funeral, so there was no way for me to check on any planning they had done. And the longer it went, the less likely it was that the subject would come up.

That night, I had a terrible dream. I dreamed I was walking in a meadow with Grampa, and we were talking and laughing and having a great time. I was feeling really good but all of a sudden four men jumped out from behind a bush and attacked Grampa! I tried to help him, but I was frozen with fear, and couldn’t move. I watched helplessly as they killed him. Then I looked back at Grampa’s body, and it was already in a casket, and we were in church at the funeral.

I woke up, shaking. The last image was so strong, so vivid, that it took a long time to shake it out of my mind. It was horrible! The picture of Grampa, lying dead in his coffin, just haunted me! Me, who had nothing to feel guilty about! It was too bad that his killers couldn’t have that kind of nightmare.

…I’ll bet I could give it to them.

Mom is real big about documenting the family history, and had taken pictures at Grampa’s funeral. I got up and snuck downstairs to get the photos. I grabbed the whole bunch and went back upstairs. I booted up my computer as I steeled myself, and then went through them.

When I got to the picture of Grampa, it was like an electric shock. My hands shook, and my vision got blurry as I stared at him, lying so stem and dignified, dressed in his best suit that he rarely wore, lying dead in a coffin.

I opened up my computer scanner and put the picture in it.

Somebody was gonna be sorry.

The four conspirators had scheduled a big teleconference three days from then. I did an enormous amount of research during those three days, bugging the heck out of the computer instructors after school. They all seemed glad to help, and were real surprised to be working with me. As a matter of fact, school had improved quite a bit. Nobody bothered me now. Some of the guys who had also been bothered by Heber said “hi” to me in the halls. Lots of people looked at my heavily bandaged left fist with admiration. I’d only seen Heber once since I got back, and his face was swollen and puffy.

I went up to my computer teacher after class, and started firing questions at her.

“I didn’t know you were so interested in computers,” she told me.

“Yeah, I’m really into it,” I told her. “My grampa worked for Advanced GameTek, and we did a lot of hacking around together. Multi-media, 3-D programming, that kind of stuff.”

She shook her head. “Well, you’re wasting your time in this class. You should be in one of the advanced programs. Let’s arrange a placement test for you, to see where you should be. Someone with your skills should be much higher up.”

I don’t know why, but the thought was kind of exciting. We talked for awhile longer, and then she sent me to another teacher who was the advisor for the computer club. He and I got along real well, which was surprising, since I don’t interact with adults very well. I gave him a censored version of my idea, and we worked out a lot of technical details.

“Have you ever thought of joining us in the computer club?” he asked. “We meet once a week and have a good time. We have professionals come in and talk with us sometimes. And the club is almost half girls. You’d like it.”

I’d never joined anything in school before, and so it surprised me that I was actively considering it. I wrote down the details of when the next meeting was, and left.

On the day of the teleconference, I pretended to have the flu. It took forever for my mom to stop fussing around me and go to work, and then I finally had the house to myself.

When the conference started, I felt really creepy. It was like it was real! I was sitting in a virtual boardroom, in one of the chairs around the conference table. Four men were sitting around me, but they didn’t look at me, they didn’t notice me. It was like I was invisible! I looked from one to the other and held my breath, squirming with discomfort.

They sat right next to me, arrayed around the table. The virtual reality removed the helmet they all had to wear, and gave an active picture of their faces instead. I sized them up while they made small talk.

Klemhauser, the chairman, was a balding man with an oversized mustache. He kept making lame jokes, and everyone else laughed much too loud. They must be afraid of him , I thought. They’re all trying to kiss his butt.

Hawkey was a little mouse of a man who kept looking darkly at Van Ives and anxiously at Klemhauser. Everything he said, even the jokes he made, were forced and stilted, like in a bad movie I’d seen about business people. He avoided Gunderson’s gaze.

Van Ives was a fat man with a sweaty red face. His voice was so loud that I wondered if his helmet needed adjusting, but nobody mentioned it. He told long, pointless stories with great enthusiasm and enormous volume. He kept glancing at Gunderson, trying to exchange smiles.

Gunderson sat immobile, and laughed only when Klemhauser made a joke. His craggy face, with flinty, cynical eyes, swept the other two subordinates with stony indifference. He’s the hatchet man, I thought. He’s the most dangerous one.