Page 20 of The Five Year Lie

“Not an amateur here, Ariel. This is my own machine, and it’s an air gap. It’s never been connected to the internet.”

“Oh.” I wince. “That makes good sense.”

“Every system has vulnerabilities. But this is as secure as it gets. Let me boot ’er up.” He turns on the machine and taps in his password.

I look away to be polite. “Did you hear anything on the news about the text message thing that happened yesterday? With all the delayed texts?”

“Sure did,” he says as the screen blinks to life. “Got one from my mom asking me to bring home some half-and-half. Except she switched to almond milk a while back.”

“You live with your mom?” I ask.

His eyes narrow. “Don’t judge. You live in your mom’s backyard. Hey—did you get one of those delayed texts?”

“Yup.” I take a careful sip of wine. “From Drew.”

His eyes widen. “Oh,shit. That’s why you were thinking about him again?”

I nod.

“Wow. And you spent a whole day thinking a dead man texted you?”

“That’s right,” I choke out. It’s strangely humiliating to say it out loud. “The text wasn’t about milk, either. He wanted to meet me. He had something to tell me.”

“Holy shit. Show me.”

I pull my phone out of my pocket. On the lock screen I find a text from Larri.

Larri: Guess what? That doorbell text Tara got was five years old! I’m such an asshole. LOL!

At least one of us feels better.

I open up the thread from Drew and show it to Zain, who squints at it. “Yeah, okay. That could mess with someone’s head. Any idea what was wrong?”

Slowly, I shake my head. When Zain hands the phone back, I read the rogue text one more time. Rationally, I know it’s just pixels of light illuminating a glass screen. Electrons dancing a jig they learned five years ago. It isn’t real.

But my stupid heart still hasn’t gotten the latest upgrade. It’s Ariel 1.0 who’s staring down at the screen. His face isright there.

“Okay,” Zain says, moving on already. “Look at this—I dumped the keylog off the tape and into a text file and wrote a widget to make it play like a movie in real time. This is everything Ray’s assistant typed into Drew’s personnel file. Watch.” He taps a key, and the words begin to appear in a column on the screen.

FIRST: Drew

MI: E

LAST: Miller

“Wow. That’s a little eerie.” It’s like we’re watching an invisible person fill out a form.

More data appears, including his Social Security number, and I scan every bit. I didn’t know his middle initial before, so that’s something. His home address is the same apartment where I used to visit him, on Exeter Street. His education and military service are also familiar.

I notice he leaves the emergency contact information blank. Not that it’s a surprise—Drew had already told me he was alone in the world. “At least we have his Social Security number? Is there anything I could learn from that?”

“Oh, you sweet summer child,” Zain says with a laugh. “I have a buddy who can do alotwith a social. Date of birth. Place of birth. Criminal record. Parking tickets. It’s not free, though. Should I ask him for a quote?”

I hesitate. But only for a second. “Yeah. Do it.” It’s madness to obsess over a dead man. But maybe I’ll glean a few details that Buzz will someday want to know.

“There’s one more thing I need to show you.” He makes his fingers into a tent and stares at them. “I just think it’s weird.”

“What?”