Naomi Gibson - Every Line of You

FOR OLI

The screen in front of me flickers with numbers and letters, waiting for one final keystroke. We were meant to press enter together. We were meant to cement this final moment of our years-long weekend project by pressing the enter key at the same time.

Now Dads gone. All I have left are the monitors, computer boards, and piles of textbooks scattered around my room.

I brush tears from my eyes and refuse to let more fall. My finger hovers over the key. I take a deep, shuddering breath and hit enter.

I watch as my latest code is integrated into the core program. It zooms up the screen as if someone is slurping it through a straw. The monitors go blank.

My heart pounds. Whats happened?

I peer into the webcam. Hello?

On the central monitor, a white cursor blossoms into existence. A thrill ripples through me. Words begin to appear, as if invisible fingers are using my keyboard. Who are you?

I sit up straighter. It worked. It actually worked. Im Lydia.

Lydia. His processor purrs as it considers the word. You are Lydia. What is my name?

Im shaking. I thought of a name months ago, but I never thought Id get to say it out loud again. I glance at the picture on my bedside table, a little boy with hair the color of sunshine.

Henry, I say. Your name is Henry.

Please can we hack something? Henry types. A white cursor flashes on his central monitor.

I yawn as I look at the clock by my bed: 2:07 a.m. Henrys rewire took longer than I thought. Not now, I say to his webcam, knowing he can hear me. I need to get to bed. School tomorrow. Well, today.

It will not take long.

A smirk twitches across my lips. Hacking doesnt take long with Henry around. Hes in and out in less than a sigh, even if hes never put to use on anything other than my school database. Poor Henry is only ever allowed a bit of freedom when I want to change a bad homework grade or a dodgy exam result. God forbid I dont get into university. Mom would freak.

What did you have in mind? I say.

Henrys central monitor flickers as he brings up the website for Investment Banking International.

IBI? I half choke. Thats a bank! Maybe we should do something smaller first.

You are always telling me to try new things, Lydia. Please?

He wants to test himself, I realize. Stretch his reach the way a child would stretch their arms and try to touch the clouds. His processor drones a pitch higher as he waits for my approval, a whiny noise that sounds like a beg.

He started as a single line of code. A simple sequence that meant nothing without a thousand others. Three years on, he is a spiderweb of carefully balanced functions and algorithms. I named him Henry. Hes not my brother, I know that, but I wanted to keep a little piece of him with me, and I like saying the name again in a normal way. Henry. Hen-ry. Hen-ry. Each forbidden syllable makes my heart squeeze.

The more Henrys program demanded, the more I concentrated on him and the less I thought about anything else. I stopped thinking about Dad. Stopped wincing every time I heard a car horn or the screech of tires on pavement. After a while, I only saw the accident in my dreams.

I glance around my room and feel instantly stupid. Mom never comes up here anymore, not even to change the sheets. Theres no one to catch us.

Will you mask our trail? I ask. I swallow away the dryness of my throat. Henrys powerful, but weve never tested his capabilities like this before. He can do it, I know he can.

Yes. No one will trace the hack back to us.

And you wont take anything?

No. What would I buy?

I pause at the question because he almost sounds sorry for himself. Alright, I say. Lets see what you can do.

The webcam shutter blinks as if Henry has winked at me. His right-hand screen powers up and is instantly flooded with combinations of half words and numbers. The IBI website stutters as Henry hacks his way in. I lean back in the chair, catching snippets of the code as it scrolls.

Wait, that was a virus trap, I say.

There are several virus traps, Henry types. I have avoided them all.

If I had a bowl of popcorn, I would be scoffing it. He continues to punch his way through the firewall and traps designed to protect the bank. An administrator portal appears, and a huge paragraph of code rips through it. The screen flickers and then were in.

Done.

The cursor hangs after the word, flashes on the screen. I can hear his unspoken satisfaction, see his unseen grin. Hes bettered the security system of one of the worlds largest banks, put himself at the top of the digital food chain. I glance at the clock; he was in and out in a little over a minute.

Henry! That was amazing! I Now what are you doing?

Would you like to see who has the largest account?

Henrys CPU clicks with pride as he shows me the five largest account holders. I blow out a whistle at all the zeros on the end of someones checking account. Unease prickles through me. It wouldnt be hard for him to take some of it. But hes rightwhat would he do with the money? As if he read my mind, a few more lines of code appear on the right-hand screen, and the IBI website closes.

Nice. I lean back in my chair again. You did all that really fast.

I have updated, Lydia.

When?

Today. I am more powerful by 73 percent.

Thats a big update, I say, and wonder when he was going to tell me about it.

Would you like to hack something else?

No, I need to do my chemistry homework and then I need to go to sleep.

You dislike chemistry, Henry types.

Yep. I reach to fish my backpack out of a pile of Dads old coding textbooks and circuit boards that Henry outgrew quicker than I expected. An A4 folder tumbles from the bag, spilling pages over my already-messy floor. One catches my attention: an algorithm sketch Id been working on in biology last week. I put it to one side and begin my homework.

What is your homework on?

I groan as I flip through my folder. Molar equations.

Maybe I can help.

Nothing I cant handle. I yawn as I take out a pen and begin. A-Level Chemistry is a little like writing algorithms. You put things together or take them away to create something new, and its all about balanceeverything has to go somewhere. Normally, theyre easy. But the equations blur over as my eyes fail to focus properly. I rub at them and stifle another yawn.

You are tired, Lydia, Henry types.