tpls2

the holiday traffic spike. Security seemed to become more of a problem each year, even for the proactive people; that year, her InTek account had become corrupted by a class E6 malvirai. Any error code that went five-three-something-something was virus-related, and by definition very hard to fix.

“Working… done,” the realistic and macho voice replied. “Algorithm executed successfully.”

“You’re kidding me, right? Your root tables are all SY driven, but the maintenance algorithms aren’t even P2DP-compliant. Here, I’m sending you a good one.”

If the amai were programmed to satisfy ninety-nine percent of their customers, Vair would always fall in the small group that wanted to play technician — and probably could, too. Sometimes I’d think her brain was one giant computer processor.

“I’m sorry, Veronica, I’m only authorized to execute Slidewire-certified scripts. You may leave a repair request for—”

“I’m following up on the repair request. Are you helping me or not?”

“I’m sorry, your repair request was only submitted nine hours ago. A certified—”

“Pain is what you are,” she said, taking a step closer to the amai. “You’re supposed to be one of the most secure servers online. What was your monitoring staff doing while the day was getting wrecked?”

“Rest assured, Miss Sornat, that InTek takes security threats