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datatime: 2022-09-29 21:42:33 Author:rPqLhncO

'Female,' Marino added. 'And wealth.'

'Don't worry, I'm used to confidential information. I'll make sure no one else gets hold of them.'

She looked uncertain.

'The floor was hard and unkind to my lower lumbar spine. But I was a good sport. A prompt asked her to enter a word or words or phrases that she wished the system to search for throughout the database.

'What about unidentified,' Lucy said as she typed.

Lucy sat before it on the floor, Indian style, as if she were about to worship the great god of technology. She hit the enter key to turn the screen saver off, and ESA lit up rows of pixels at a time in electric blue, flashing a map of the United States on the next vivid screen. At a prompt, she typed in her user name and password, answered other secure prompts to work her way into the system, invisibly cruising through secret gateways on the Web, passing through one level at a time. When she had logged on to the case repository, she motioned for me to sit next to her.

'Can we print out the four hundred and fifty-three records?' I asked.

'What about unidentified,' Lucy said as she typed.

She looked uncertain.

I knew it was stupid when I said it. Lucy stared longingly into the computer screen.

'Let's try death, homicide, suspected arson,' I said.

She looked uncertain.

She led us back to her tiny bedroom, which was now depressingly bare save for cobwebs in corners and dust balls on the scuffed hardwood floor. The box springs were empty, the mattress still made with wrinkled peach sheets and upended against a wall, and rolled up in a corner was the colorful silk rug that I had given her for her last birthday. Empty dresser drawers were stacked on the floor. Her office was a Panasonic laptop on top of a cardboard box. The portable computer was in a shark-gray steel and magnesium case that met military specifications for being ruggedized, meaning it was vapor-proof and dust-proof and everything-proof and supposedly could be dropped and run over by a Humvee.

'You know, the printer's packed, Aunt Kay.' Lucy looked up apologetically at me.

'What about unidentified,' Lucy said as she typed.

'Don't worry about the format,' Lucy said. 'The text search engines can handle complete stream of consciousness. We can try everything from the size of the fire hose used to the materials the house was made of -- all that fire safety info and stuff that's in your set forms fire departments fill out. Or you can go with your own key queries.'

She looked uncertain.

'Let's try death, homicide, suspected arson,' I said.

'No, this is fine.'

'Can we print out the four hundred and fifty-three records?' I asked.

'Can we print out the four hundred and fifty-three records?' I asked.

Lucy sat before it on the floor, Indian style, as if she were about to worship the great god of technology. She hit the enter key to turn the screen saver off, and ESA lit up rows of pixels at a time in electric blue, flashing a map of the United States on the next vivid screen. At a prompt, she typed in her user name and password, answered other secure prompts to work her way into the system, invisibly cruising through secret gateways on the Web, passing through one level at a time. When she had logged on to the case repository, she motioned for me to sit next to her.

'What about unidentified,' Lucy said as she typed.

'Let's go ahead and give it a shot,' Lucy proposed. 'We can always try more words as we think of them.'

'I guess that's all right,' she said, 'as long as you make sure . . . Oh, never mind.'

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