Crouching Buzzard, Leaping Loon(17)

“Yeah, they’re nude, all right,” the chief said.

    Tiny, naked cartoon figures filled the screen. A portly, naked, anatomically correct defense attorney was jumping up and down, waving his arms. The twelve nude jurors variously slept, yawned, or sat with crossed arms in mute condemnation of his speaking ability. They were also anatomically correct, at least as far as one could see over the top of the jury box. The nude judge - mercifully, only his bare shoulders showed above the judge’s bench - frowned and toyed with his gavel in a way that boded ill for the defense attorney the next time the cartoon prosecutor made an objection.

“Let’s try that again,” Jack said, stepping over to the keyboard.

“Sorry,” I said. “Everyone’s been studying that, trying to figure out how they did it and how to stop it. This is the real version.”

    Jack started the legitimate Lawyers from Hell demo. The chief watched impassively as the same courtroom scene played out, this time with the characters decently clad.

“Other one’s more interesting,” he commented.

“If you like looking at naked cartoon characters.”

“Funnier, anyway.”

“Apparently everyone in the world thinks so, too,” I said. “The guys have figured out that there’s a program called X-ray that you can download from the Internet and install on your machine, and it removes all the clothes from your Lawyers from Hell characters. They’re still trying to figure out how to prevent it.”

“You mean they can’t figure out how to get the little cartoon clothes back on?”

“No, that’s easy,” I said. “If you delete the X-ray program, the clothes come back. What they can’t figure out is how to prevent the X-ray program from working in the first place.”

“If you can undo it, what’s the big deal?” he said.

“The big deal is that we have irate parents all over the country, screaming at us that Lawyers from Hell is corrupting their little darlings,” I said. “They’ve been threatening a boycott if we can’t prevent nudity in our software.”

“Good Lord,” the chief said. “I still don’t see what the big deal is. I can’t imagine anyone would get mat much of a kick, watching naked cartoon characters. Unless maybe they hadn’t ever seen the real thing.”

    A distinct possibility, I thought, for many of the fans. And maybe some of our younger programmers, too.

“It’s a big deal because it’s an inside job,” Frankie piped up from his vantage point atop the partition.

“Inside job?” the chief echoed. “You mean someone who works here did the nude version?”

    Jack opened his mouth and then shut it again and settled for looking daggers at Frankie. I’d noticed that the nude version was a touchy subject with Jack. Maybe he was getting some heat for not having uncovered the culprit. He clearly wasn’t happy to see Frankie airing our corporate dirty laundry in front of the chief.

“Someone who works here, possibly; or maybe someone who used to work here,” Frankie answered, ignoring Jack’s frown. “But we’ve been around so short a time, mere haven’t been a lot of people leaving. So it’s almost sure to be someone who’s still here.”

“But what makes them think it’s an inside job?” I said. “I mean, I thought all it did was replace one set of graphics with another.”

“That’s what everyone thought at first,” Frankie said. “But I’ve spent a lot of hours playing the nude version - “

“And you’re actually willing to admit it,” I said. “That takes guts.”

“For my job,” Frankie said with injured dignity. “To help find a fix. And if you play it long enough, you figure out that it’s not just the graphics that are changed. The program plays differently. The characters do… different things.”

“I still say you’re imagining that,” Jack said.

“What kind of things?” the chief asked.

“Play it and see,” he said, snickering. “But the program behaves differently, anyway, and you know what that means!”

“No,” the chief said. “Tell me.”

“They have the source code!” Frankie exclaimed, throwing his hands up like a magician displaying the finale of a particularly showy trick. He then disappeared, with a thud, behind the partition - from which I suspected he had been perched on one knee and had managed to knock himself off balance.

    The chief waited a few seconds and then looked at me for a translation.