Homesick

“Access! Release technical resource library.”

“Access to technical library granted by voice authorization.”

Vladimir worked the menus on his console, paging eagerly through the coveted pages of data. Technical schematics scrolled by, depicting the inner workings of the consoles and logic systems. A page outlined in red made him stop and smile. Its caption read “Security Access Systems.” He scrolled on slowly, stopping again at a diagram of the electronic key card he held in his hand. Below it were the words, “Command Level Clearance.”

He stared at the schematic, comparing it to his own card. All the keys were rectangular pieces of thick silicon with a set of metal contact strips. Within the key were tiny integrated circuits. Each level of authorization required an additional circuit and a dedicated contact strip leading to it. Vlad’s key was missing one of these circuits and thus had one less strip than a command level key. He looked carefully at the spacing between the strips on his key and that of the diagram. From his desk he took out a wooden toothpick. From another drawer he retrieved a box filled with many small bottles of hobby paint tucked beneath a half-finished model airplane. He held the steel-colored paint to the light after shaking it a vigorously. Then he opened the bottle and stirred the mixture with the toothpick. The room quickly began to smell of chemical solvents. Then, taking the toothpick, he carefully painted a stripe along the length of the card, painstakingly matching the position of the missing contact strip. It was not an easy task, and he was not a patient man. His forehead was covered with sweat when he finished drawing the nearly straight line from the bottom to the top.

Next, putting the paint aside, he reached into his drawer and found a small red wire with an alligator clip. He fastened this to the top of the key and plugged the other end into his hand-held. Then, turning back to the console, he went in search of other files.