Della, keeping a virus-safe distance, said, "Perry, when you get down there, distract the AI programmers with a story about predictive bookshelf rotation. You know, for the Pittsford library. When no one is looking, log on to one of the terminals and look for the DNA neural network. If someone is messing with DNA results, that's where it has to be happening."
"But I don't know the password," worried Perry.
"PITTSF0RD
, with a zero instead of the letter 'O'".
Perry laughed, "That's got to be the worst password ever. How do you even know all this?"
The barista explained, "A few weeks ago, one of the Pittsford AI programmers came to the Fairport library to find a book about re-seating memory chips on a motherboard. There's only one copy in the county, and we had it in Fairport. He stopped for a cup of coffee and I plied him with a half dozen cups of espresso. By the time he was done, he gave me his life story, a thesis on neural networks in DNA research, and the password! When this thing about DNA test results popped up, well, it seemed like more than a coincidence."
"Why don't you go down there?" asked Perry.
"They'll recognize me from the Fairport library," explained Della. "These Groucho glasses are OK in the shadows, but they won't fool anyone face-to-face. You're the only one who can do this. It could be dangerous, so, 'Good luck!'" At that, she gave Perry a peck on the cheek, mask to mask. It didn't feel like an invasion of his personal space, like it did with the cougar. It felt...well...special.
©2020, Gary Gocek, https://gary.gocek.org/, @garygocek, gary@gocek.org