Mad Giggler on :
Ze plot, eet theekens.
Monday, August 8. 2005Keb Jones
He showed up on one of the few days when Howell decided to go to class. I was sitting in our room, working on a paper for my anthropology class when I heard a soft tapping on the door. I opened it to see the detective from the federal police standing there. Without waiting for me to invite him in, he pushed into the room, looking over his shoulder as he did so.
"It's become more serious." "What do you mean?" "We used to be able to detect it whenever your roommate entered one of his virtual environments. Now, it seems, he's found a way to disguise it so that it looks like normal network traffic. We're sure that he still uses the environments--things like that are very addictive, and he has no reason to stop, but over the past few weeks, we've only been able to detect him using them on very rare occasions." "So what?" "We need to know when he's going into the environments. We're going to hide a camera, and put a keystroke logger on his system. That way, we can keep track of his comings and goings, and hopefully, we can find out how he's hiding his tracks from us." "If you were going to do this, why didn't you just come in when I wasn't here? Why did you come and tell me about it?" He feigned shock and surprise. "Why Mr. Jones, that would be illegal! We need to have probable cause before we can get a warrant for something like this." He took a piece of paper from his pocket. "Your signed testimony that you think that your roommate is involved in an illicit drug ring has given us probable cause for this surveillance."
I took the paper from him, and read it. Just as he said, it was a testimony detailing a series of activities that could imply that Howell was involved in dealing and distributing illegal drugs. At the bottom, large as life, I saw my signature. "Where did you get this? I never gave it to you." "You didn't? That's too bad. Your refusal to help our investigation could have some," he paused as if thinking, "unfortunate consequences." "What do you want?" "We simply want you to be willing to say that that," he stabbed his finger at the signature at the bottom of the page, "is your signature." "And what do I get out of this? In exchange for my perjury, you're going to invade my privacy?" "No, no. You won't have to worry about your privacy at all. You see, yesterday, you received an anonymous donation that will allow you to move into an apartment of your own as soon as you wish to." "Oh." I thought about it for a moment. "Is what he's doing really wrong?" The detective nodded. "Do you know of any nice apartments near campus?" I didn't think it was necessary to tell him that I hadn't seen Howell using his computer at all for the past three weeks. Trackbacks
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