thought she started cracking up, and bit her lip to stifle the giggles. She didn’t want him poking his nose back in, not now.
Handheld consoles had come a long way from whenshe got her first Game Boy. Thankfully, Lurch didn’t appear to know that. This particular model had been a birthday gift from her dad, a next generation prototype that wouldn’t even be on the market for another year. Like all the newer systems, it had Wi-Fi capabilities for multiplayer online games. Of course, an accessible wireless network had been too much to hope for. She’d done a search immediately, but the only one in radius was secured and she was no hacker. She’d made a halfhearted stab at passwords to amuse herself, typing in Addams Family, Lurch, and, with a pang, Shane’s girl. No luck, she’d need the proverbial million monkeys tapping away for years to crack it. And she didn’t have that kind of time.
Fortunately, there was one more feature of the unit that Lurch had overlooked: a GPS transmitter. It was an add-on that worked by comparing the signals received from several satellites, then running a complex set of computations to triangulate the results and produce a set of coordinates. Unfortunately, the thick metal hull of the ship prevented access to most satellite signals. Luckily Madison had spent the past few months studying an alternative.
In 2006, when GPS devices started glutting the commercial market, the U.S. government became concerned that military receivers might be lost in the barrage of white noise. The military relied upon a GPS system for navigation and targeting, and any compromise of that system could prove catastrophic. To protect themselves they launched new satellites, with “boosted” signals that were only available to the Department of Defense. Madison’s last science fair project had been disqualified, thanks to her claims to have tapped into the new satellite systems. At a conference with the school principal, her father had explained that scientifically speaking therewas no way she could have done it, and her mother had grounded her for a month. The principal still gave her funny looks whenever she passed him in the hall. They all thought she was trying to get attention, still reacting to the divorce.
Well, yeah, maybe she had been. But that didn’t mean she hadn’t done it. After conducting experiments with her iPhone all over the city, Madison discovered a rogue signal. Honestly it hadn’t been all that hard, just time-consuming. And once she had that signature down, all she had to do was find it again.
If she could tap into it and recalibrate her DS Lite’s GPS to send a signal rather than receive it, maybe someone would be able to track her down. She just hoped one of her moron family members remembered the console.
Her tongue jutted out the side of her mouth as she concentrated, squinting in the dim light, carefully manipulating the interior components. Madison was careful to touch the plastic exterior each time to ground it. She’d have to reconfigure the power settings, too—it would be a race against battery life at the end. She just hoped someone out there would be listening.
Seven
J ake forced himself to tear off a bite of turkey sandwich. He was trying to eat healthier these days, a losing battle for a guy reared on steak and lots of it. All those months of setting up the new business had kept him out of the gym, and he recently realized with alarm that his six-pack was morphing into a two-pack. Kelly had teased him, grabbing his middle and riffing about the slow march of time and declining metabolisms. Well, screw that. Jake Riley wasn’t giving in without a fight. Even if that meant switching to light beer and turkey.
He was in one of the ubiquitous sandwich factories lining the Berkeley campus, trying to get his mouth around a sandwich so stuffed with sprouts they should have named it the “Colon-Cleanser.” The place buzzed with students grabbing a bite between classes.
Handheld consoles had come a long way from whenshe got her first Game Boy. Thankfully, Lurch didn’t appear to know that. This particular model had been a birthday gift from her dad, a next generation prototype that wouldn’t even be on the market for another year. Like all the newer systems, it had Wi-Fi capabilities for multiplayer online games. Of course, an accessible wireless network had been too much to hope for. She’d done a search immediately, but the only one in radius was secured and she was no hacker. She’d made a halfhearted stab at passwords to amuse herself, typing in Addams Family, Lurch, and, with a pang, Shane’s girl. No luck, she’d need the proverbial million monkeys tapping away for years to crack it. And she didn’t have that kind of time.
Fortunately, there was one more feature of the unit that Lurch had overlooked: a GPS transmitter. It was an add-on that worked by comparing the signals received from several satellites, then running a complex set of computations to triangulate the results and produce a set of coordinates. Unfortunately, the thick metal hull of the ship prevented access to most satellite signals. Luckily Madison had spent the past few months studying an alternative.
In 2006, when GPS devices started glutting the commercial market, the U.S. government became concerned that military receivers might be lost in the barrage of white noise. The military relied upon a GPS system for navigation and targeting, and any compromise of that system could prove catastrophic. To protect themselves they launched new satellites, with “boosted” signals that were only available to the Department of Defense. Madison’s last science fair project had been disqualified, thanks to her claims to have tapped into the new satellite systems. At a conference with the school principal, her father had explained that scientifically speaking therewas no way she could have done it, and her mother had grounded her for a month. The principal still gave her funny looks whenever she passed him in the hall. They all thought she was trying to get attention, still reacting to the divorce.
Well, yeah, maybe she had been. But that didn’t mean she hadn’t done it. After conducting experiments with her iPhone all over the city, Madison discovered a rogue signal. Honestly it hadn’t been all that hard, just time-consuming. And once she had that signature down, all she had to do was find it again.
If she could tap into it and recalibrate her DS Lite’s GPS to send a signal rather than receive it, maybe someone would be able to track her down. She just hoped one of her moron family members remembered the console.
Her tongue jutted out the side of her mouth as she concentrated, squinting in the dim light, carefully manipulating the interior components. Madison was careful to touch the plastic exterior each time to ground it. She’d have to reconfigure the power settings, too—it would be a race against battery life at the end. She just hoped someone out there would be listening.
Seven
J ake forced himself to tear off a bite of turkey sandwich. He was trying to eat healthier these days, a losing battle for a guy reared on steak and lots of it. All those months of setting up the new business had kept him out of the gym, and he recently realized with alarm that his six-pack was morphing into a two-pack. Kelly had teased him, grabbing his middle and riffing about the slow march of time and declining metabolisms. Well, screw that. Jake Riley wasn’t giving in without a fight. Even if that meant switching to light beer and turkey.
He was in one of the ubiquitous sandwich factories lining the Berkeley campus, trying to get his mouth around a sandwich so stuffed with sprouts they should have named it the “Colon-Cleanser.” The place buzzed with students grabbing a bite between classes.
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