She Blinded Me With Science
succeeded. That meant more than his freedom.
    "Hate computers," he muttered. "If Humans ever realized what kind of magic they work
with technology...well, it'll take another couple decades, so I'm not worried. Anyway, the thing
is, computers give me a rash even worse than iron."
    "Sorry about that," she muttered, and watched him tap-dance his way through the log of
recent activity. "What does all that mean?"
    "I hate to say this, but we're at about the limits of my knowledge. Like I said, I hate
computers." He flashed a teeth-bared grin at her. "What I can tell you is that no one accessed
your files from this terminal."
    "That doesn't mean diddly squat," she growled.
    "I wouldn't put it that way."
    "Yeah? How would you put it?"
    "In words that a nice girl like you should never hear. Trust me, sweetheart," he added,
pressing his forefinger against her lips when she opened her mouth to challenge him again.
    Sophie's eyes went wide and glazed just a little. Kevyn would have laughed in triumph,
but a corresponding jolt of awareness shot through him, pooling like churning lava in his
belly.
    The two of them were in deep doo-doo, and he had the sneaking suspicion, when the
dust settled and they had cleared up her problems, he was going to be euphorically glad to be in
that particular trouble.
    "Wanna see real magic?" He held out his cupped hand and conjured up a
communications globe. It flashed, showing static and sparks and then stylized, old-fashioned
computer circuitry boards. The theme from 2010 moaned through Sophie's office.
    "What is that?" A touch of laughter in her voice encouraged him.
    "Gubur's version of call screening." Kevyn tapped the communication globe with his
other hand. The chime grew dissonant. Gubur's bug eyes and hawk's beak nose filled the globe
just before the sound grew painful.
    "Kevyn, my man! Long time, no see! Hey, what's up? Isn't that fake identity I made up
for you working anymore?" Gubur's skin was green from the default coloring of the
communication globe. "Cosmic," he purred twenty minutes later, after Kevyn and Sophie took
turns explaining the situation and what they feared had happened to her computer. "Just love
playing hound dog. Put the do-bob where I can get at the system."
    Kevyn put the communications globe on the keyboard, so it leaned against the monitor.
He thought it would do more good to touch the tower, rather than the monitor, but he had seen
Gubur do such things before. His friend seemed to be limited in his range of magic, and had to
have the illusion of being able to see what was going on.
    Green sparks flew around Sophie's office and formed a swirling stream that shot into the
monitor. The entire room took on a greenish cast. Data streamed across Sophie's computer screen
at blinding speed. The tower hummed, the sound rising up and down through the alien tones
from Close Encounters .
    "What is he doing?" Sophie whispered.
    "It's just window dressing. He thinks he has to do it to impress the chicks."
    "Are you impressed?" Gubur asked, his voice muffled as if he held a stylus in his teeth.
Or he was eating lunch. As long as they didn't have to see what he was doing, Kevyn was
happy.
    "Very," she stammered.
    That seemed to suit Gubur. He didn't say anything else until the humming faded to
silence, the sparks vanished, and the stream of hieroglyphics in twenty different languages,
including Ancient Fae, stopped spilling actress the screen.
    "What's the diagnosis?" Kevyn asked, as soon as Gubur's face appeared in the globe
again.
    "Just what you thought. Sorry." He nodded to Sophie. "Here's the condensed version.
This chick is thorough, and nasty. Hope you decide to hang her high."
    The communications globe expanded, until it was larger than Sophie's monitor. Without
any sound or narration, it showed Jennifer standing over the shoulder of a mousy-looking boy
who needed to wash his hair and fix his glasses. His fingers danced across the keyboard and
images of Kevyn performing magic and

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