"That'll be $6.95, sir," I heard the young cashier tell the man ahead of me in line. I wasn't paying too much attention to that transaction at first, as I was wonderfully distracted by the half-grown Labrador pup in line behind me.
{Love me, love me} came to me over and over through the chip in my temple as I reached out a hand to ruffle through the fur on his head.
"How old?" I asked the dog's "mom" as she gave a gentle tug on the harness leash to discourage any over-enthusiasm from her charge.
"Ten months, his name is Bruno," she answered, smiling down at the pup as we mutually heard the {love me love me love me} broadcast.
"Your chip reader doesn't seem to be working," the customer ahead of me informed the cashier, tapping the payment pad's stylus against his temple to illustrate. I only half-listened as I crouched down and massaged both sides of the pup's head with my hands.
"Sorry, sir," the young man at the register apologized. "That does happen," and he handed the man a moist wipe from the pop-up canister beside the register. The customer wet one finger in his mouth and wiped it on the sensor pad at the bottom of the pay pad's screen. He then wiped his finger with the moist towelette as the clerk finished the transaction. The DNA sampling must have verified the customer's identity since the man was handed his small bag, thanks were exchanged, along with the towelette that the man handed the cashier to throw away.
I should have noted then that thecustomer had NOT also wiped the sensor pad with the towel, the standard courtesy after a DNA swipe, but Bruno the pup was still distracting me.
So, the cashier rang up my order: two weeks' worth of dry cat food and a shaker jar of treats. The young man asked a few polite questions about my cats, which caused Bruno to chime in with a {Kitty? Like kitty, like kitty!} chant to the amusement of myself and Bruno's mom.
"We have three cats at home, he adores them all," she explained. "He's not bothering you, is he?"
"Not at all - " I started to answer.
"$16.87, sir," the cashier informed me.
"He's actually quite polite, for a Lab," I finished, automatically picking up the pay pad stylus and touching it to the chip in my left temple.
"We're training him to be a Caregiver dog. He's already passed the preliminary course and had his chip modified - "
"Sir, the chip reader's out," the cashier politely interrupted. "Can I get you to swipe?"
"Sorry, I did see that happen to the last guy," and I dutifully wet my left index finger to collect saliva for the sensor pad. I swiped and took the proffered wet towel and---
...Blurred vision. Slight wave of dizziness. And a sudden, explosive sneeze that I covered with the wet nap.
"Whoa, bless you sir," the cashier said.
"Bug going round," Bruno's mom offered.
{Attention} came strongly from Bruno. I looked at the pup; he was sitting full upright, staring with earnestconcern at me.
{ATTENTION} also popped up on my right eyeball where only I could see it. {MALWARE DETECTED}
"Bug? virus," I managed to blurt out, as I felt my knees start to weaken. I looked down at my left index finger; the skin was red, like it had been stung by an insect. I looked at the pay pad's sensor. "That guy's swipe? infected?"
I felt a tap on my shoulder, turned to see a woman wearing a more formal version of the pet store's polo shirt. A manager, with an iPatch over one eye. Her hand on my shoulder was gently guiding me to sit down in a rolling chair she had waiting beside me.
"Arrrh, lassie, that be swift," I joked, some of the dizziness clearing as the nanites in my blood settled down my system after the initial reaction to the invading malware 'bots.
"Well, your sense of humor's okay, that's good," the manager stated, a smile of concern and encouragement on her face as she flipped the iPatch up on her forehead and continued to settle me in the chair. "The Patch told me there was a concern out here, so I came right out of the office with this. How are you feeling, sir? Can you tell me what's happening?"
"You got an alert? That quick? How?" and I was interrupted by a determined snout shoving itself under the left hand I had on my knee.
{Friend okay? Sick? Bruno call for help!}
The Caregiver training had kicked in; the dog had sensed my distress almost as fast as my own nanites and broadcast an emergency signal. The manager's iPatch had picked it up (GREAT customerservice, that); no doubt a medical 911 had also been broadcast. But why hadn't my Heads Up been contacted by dispatchers and a call come through---?
I had started to stroke Bruno's head with my left hand, keeping the sore index finger raised. I jerked my hand up and closed my fist except for the index, which I thrust at the manager.
"Scan," I instructed. "Malware, from your touch pad." A shocked look crossed her face for a moment, then she flipped the iPatch back down and muttered subvocally while gazing at my finger intently. Then she turned and scanned the pay pad's surface, waited a few seconds for her Heads Up to display the results.
"Got it. A data capture bug, no doubt. I'm sorry, sir; I've sent an alert to the police. Pad must have been infected by another customer with malware nanites in his system, but? Fred, how long has the chip reader been down?"
"Just since the guy before him," Fred answered, gesturing at me. "But I gave him a wet nap to clean his finger and the pad after he used it."
"And you saw the guy swipe the touch pad?" the manager lady probed. Fred's ducked head gave her the answer. Manager turned back to me. "I am so sorry, sir, we're usually better about security than this. If he's gotten your identity, the company will work to reimburse you and reconstruct your ID?"
{911 DISPATCH. MR. deBREEZE, ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?}
I titled my head back, indicating to the concerned folks gathered around me that I was reading a Heads Up. "Hello, dispatch, thank you. I'm feeling fine; my nanitesseem to have isolated the malware, though I do not know if they blocked their transmission to the perpetrator."
{YOUR NANITES GAVE US INFO ON MALWARE ALREADY, SIR. (I repeated this transmission out loud for the benefit of those nearby) TRIANGULATING PERP'S LOCATION NOW. APOLOGIZE FOR TAKING SO LONG TO CONTACT YOU, THE MALWARE WAS BLOCKING INCOMING SIGNALS, BUT WE HAVE TAPPED INTO THEIR SIGNALS TO TRACE WHO INFECTED YOU.}
From outside the store, the sounds of car horns and shrieking tires. We all turned (except for Bruno, who continued to keep his reassuring head in my lap) to see out the glass doors at the front of the store. One car was backing out of a space in a hurry, almost clipping other cars in the parking lot. It straightened out and started to make a getaway out of the lot.
"That would be the dude who infected the touch pad," Fred commented. "Of course, he'd need to stay nearby to catch info from anybody that picked up his 'bots."
"He'll get away!" Bruno's mom moaned.
A short, sharp screech, and the getaway car came to a dead stop.
{PERP IDENTIFIED, VEHICLE DISABLED REMOTELY. DISPATCHING OFFICERS AND AN ARRESTING UNIT TO YOUR LOCATION MR. deBREEZE}
"Dumb dude should have disabled his auto-driver," Fred commented.
"He's not too dumb," I answered. "That's a pretty sophisticated program he came up with, coding his own nanites to transfer malware in his saliva, even increasing acidity to seep into another customer's skin so quick. And his chip had a virus that disabled your chip reader so you had to use the touch pad". I looked at the rash-like markon my index finger. "Sucks for him to get me as a victim."
"What's special about you? You a cyber super-hero with special powers?" The manager quipped.
"No, a coder and guinea pig for a cyber-security firm. We make the pay pads you use, in fact." Prompted by another nuzzle from Bruno, I lowered my hand to his head.
{Pet me, Friend, Bruno helps you feel better} I stroked the pup's head; it really was reassuring to do that right then.
I stroked the pup's head; it was really reassuring to do that right then.
"My nanites are programmed to respond to attacks from outside nanites like they would to a biological virus or even poisons." I was embarrassed by a sudden burp. "I'm probably the first to encounter an identity thief since we uploaded the code into the volunteer group I'm part of---" A volcano burp exploded out of me. I waited for the tittering to die down and then commented: "I'm glad it worked, but I'm STRONGLY recommending the lab tweak the response reaction to an infection."
"You volunteered for nanobot guinea pig duty?" Fred quipped. "Dude, I don't ever do anything beta!"
"Not the first time for me," I offered back. "I was a graduate at MIT when they needed volunteers for the first generation of medical 'bots." I fixed the manager with a serious glance. "Lost both grandmothers to Covid 37, probably because I was asymptomatic but infectious. If I could stop that happening to anyone else, I was willing to risk going full Borg."
An awed and appreciative murmur spread through the crowd gathered around us. Bruno pressed his jaw onto my knee and whined in sympathy... And, of course, a second volcano erupted from my stomach tobreak the mood.
"Fred, can you send a couple of Rovers out to the parking lot?" the manager asked the cashier. "Let them watch that guy, make sure he doesn't break out a window and run. Then you try to play traffic cop and guide cars away from that lane? And Fred? I need to talk with you about security and sanitizing the touch pads when this is over." As Fred sheepishly walked away, the manager turned back to apologize to me. "That hacker may be good, but if my guy'd made sure the touch pad was swiped with a wet nap, even if he had to do it himself, those malbots could have been stopped before they got to you."
"Don't be hard on the kid," I offered. "That hack probably did a slight of hand so Fred didn't notice? And how many of us actually do the courtesy wet wipe EVERY time we have to pay that way?" I always do, of course, but my remark was aimed at the customers gathering in a clump around me. Embarrassed grins and dipped heads brought a smile to my face. Human nature is human nature, after all? though it is the number one ally of thieves and pandemics.
Fred had gone outside, dutifully followed by a couple of mini-drones that had dropped from the ceiling above the entry door. He had just started to go up to cars backed up behind the hacker's stalled getaway car when a sudden musical blaring came out of the sky. People outside the store, inside cars, and walking looked up in surprise as unseen speakers broadcast "Ride of the Valkyries" from on high. Customers inside the store gasped and twittered in reaction;whines and barks from most of the other dogs in line or elsewhere in the store joined the chorus. Only a couple of older dogs and Bruno, all trained to be service canines, stayed quiet and attentive to their people.
The high-pitched whine of rotors joined the musical cacophony as downbursts of air announced the imminent arrival of a police drone. I smiled at the use of the music instead of a siren; whoever thought of using that device was a PR genius with a wicked sense of humor. The surveillance drone, half as long as the perp's car, settled on top of the vehicle and swung down suction clamps to its top. The drone's propeller blades started to settle to a stop; the purpose of the drone was not to lift the car out of the lot, but ensure it would stay disabled and unable to drive off. And no doubt deploy a Taser if the hacker did manage to bust out a reinforced safety window and try to run.
Two Police hover bikes pulled in front of the store; one officer dismounted his bike and strode towards the hacker's car while the other removed her helmet and entered the store to find me. It was all escorting to jail and incident reports from here on out. The manager waved at gawking employees to man the other cash registers and take care of the backlog of customers before turning to greet the officer.
Bruno was suddenly, earnestly, licking my left index finger.
"Bruno, no," his mom cried, jerking on his harness to pull him back. She looked at me in concern. "There's evidence there - "
"It's alright, mynanites will have destroyed anything in me already; the police will have all they need on that touch pad? How do I taste, Bruno?"
The dog was sitting quietly, his eyes turned slightly up into his head. I have no idea how a dog's Heads Up display transfers data, but it told Bruno what he needed.
{Blood had a blech, but Friend will be fine} The pup stood and got closer to me, looking up with concerned eyes. {Friend feels better? Bruno did good?}
The pup stood and got closer to me, looking up with concerned eyes.
"Bruno was wonderful," I said, leaning around the pay pad and reaching for the bowl of dog treats I knew this store had embedded at the end of the conveyor belt. I offered the Lab a big biscuit with one hand and gave a thankful rub of his head with the other.
"I just picked up a bug, is all."
END
{Love me, love me} came to me over and over through the chip in my temple as I reached out a hand to ruffle through the fur on his head.
"How old?" I asked the dog's "mom" as she gave a gentle tug on the harness leash to discourage any over-enthusiasm from her charge.
"Ten months, his name is Bruno," she answered, smiling down at the pup as we mutually heard the {love me love me love me} broadcast.
"Your chip reader doesn't seem to be working," the customer ahead of me informed the cashier, tapping the payment pad's stylus against his temple to illustrate. I only half-listened as I crouched down and massaged both sides of the pup's head with my hands.
"Sorry, sir," the young man at the register apologized. "That does happen," and he handed the man a moist wipe from the pop-up canister beside the register. The customer wet one finger in his mouth and wiped it on the sensor pad at the bottom of the pay pad's screen. He then wiped his finger with the moist towelette as the clerk finished the transaction. The DNA sampling must have verified the customer's identity since the man was handed his small bag, thanks were exchanged, along with the towelette that the man handed the cashier to throw away.
I should have noted then that thecustomer had NOT also wiped the sensor pad with the towel, the standard courtesy after a DNA swipe, but Bruno the pup was still distracting me.
So, the cashier rang up my order: two weeks' worth of dry cat food and a shaker jar of treats. The young man asked a few polite questions about my cats, which caused Bruno to chime in with a {Kitty? Like kitty, like kitty!} chant to the amusement of myself and Bruno's mom.
"We have three cats at home, he adores them all," she explained. "He's not bothering you, is he?"
"Not at all - " I started to answer.
"$16.87, sir," the cashier informed me.
"He's actually quite polite, for a Lab," I finished, automatically picking up the pay pad stylus and touching it to the chip in my left temple.
"We're training him to be a Caregiver dog. He's already passed the preliminary course and had his chip modified - "
"Sir, the chip reader's out," the cashier politely interrupted. "Can I get you to swipe?"
"Sorry, I did see that happen to the last guy," and I dutifully wet my left index finger to collect saliva for the sensor pad. I swiped and took the proffered wet towel and---
...Blurred vision. Slight wave of dizziness. And a sudden, explosive sneeze that I covered with the wet nap.
"Whoa, bless you sir," the cashier said.
"Bug going round," Bruno's mom offered.
{Attention} came strongly from Bruno. I looked at the pup; he was sitting full upright, staring with earnestconcern at me.
{ATTENTION} also popped up on my right eyeball where only I could see it. {MALWARE DETECTED}
"Bug? virus," I managed to blurt out, as I felt my knees start to weaken. I looked down at my left index finger; the skin was red, like it had been stung by an insect. I looked at the pay pad's sensor. "That guy's swipe? infected?"
I felt a tap on my shoulder, turned to see a woman wearing a more formal version of the pet store's polo shirt. A manager, with an iPatch over one eye. Her hand on my shoulder was gently guiding me to sit down in a rolling chair she had waiting beside me.
"Arrrh, lassie, that be swift," I joked, some of the dizziness clearing as the nanites in my blood settled down my system after the initial reaction to the invading malware 'bots.
"Well, your sense of humor's okay, that's good," the manager stated, a smile of concern and encouragement on her face as she flipped the iPatch up on her forehead and continued to settle me in the chair. "The Patch told me there was a concern out here, so I came right out of the office with this. How are you feeling, sir? Can you tell me what's happening?"
"You got an alert? That quick? How?" and I was interrupted by a determined snout shoving itself under the left hand I had on my knee.
{Friend okay? Sick? Bruno call for help!}
The Caregiver training had kicked in; the dog had sensed my distress almost as fast as my own nanites and broadcast an emergency signal. The manager's iPatch had picked it up (GREAT customerservice, that); no doubt a medical 911 had also been broadcast. But why hadn't my Heads Up been contacted by dispatchers and a call come through---?
I had started to stroke Bruno's head with my left hand, keeping the sore index finger raised. I jerked my hand up and closed my fist except for the index, which I thrust at the manager.
"Scan," I instructed. "Malware, from your touch pad." A shocked look crossed her face for a moment, then she flipped the iPatch back down and muttered subvocally while gazing at my finger intently. Then she turned and scanned the pay pad's surface, waited a few seconds for her Heads Up to display the results.
"Got it. A data capture bug, no doubt. I'm sorry, sir; I've sent an alert to the police. Pad must have been infected by another customer with malware nanites in his system, but? Fred, how long has the chip reader been down?"
"Just since the guy before him," Fred answered, gesturing at me. "But I gave him a wet nap to clean his finger and the pad after he used it."
"And you saw the guy swipe the touch pad?" the manager lady probed. Fred's ducked head gave her the answer. Manager turned back to me. "I am so sorry, sir, we're usually better about security than this. If he's gotten your identity, the company will work to reimburse you and reconstruct your ID?"
{911 DISPATCH. MR. deBREEZE, ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?}
I titled my head back, indicating to the concerned folks gathered around me that I was reading a Heads Up. "Hello, dispatch, thank you. I'm feeling fine; my nanitesseem to have isolated the malware, though I do not know if they blocked their transmission to the perpetrator."
{YOUR NANITES GAVE US INFO ON MALWARE ALREADY, SIR. (I repeated this transmission out loud for the benefit of those nearby) TRIANGULATING PERP'S LOCATION NOW. APOLOGIZE FOR TAKING SO LONG TO CONTACT YOU, THE MALWARE WAS BLOCKING INCOMING SIGNALS, BUT WE HAVE TAPPED INTO THEIR SIGNALS TO TRACE WHO INFECTED YOU.}
From outside the store, the sounds of car horns and shrieking tires. We all turned (except for Bruno, who continued to keep his reassuring head in my lap) to see out the glass doors at the front of the store. One car was backing out of a space in a hurry, almost clipping other cars in the parking lot. It straightened out and started to make a getaway out of the lot.
"That would be the dude who infected the touch pad," Fred commented. "Of course, he'd need to stay nearby to catch info from anybody that picked up his 'bots."
"He'll get away!" Bruno's mom moaned.
A short, sharp screech, and the getaway car came to a dead stop.
{PERP IDENTIFIED, VEHICLE DISABLED REMOTELY. DISPATCHING OFFICERS AND AN ARRESTING UNIT TO YOUR LOCATION MR. deBREEZE}
"Dumb dude should have disabled his auto-driver," Fred commented.
"He's not too dumb," I answered. "That's a pretty sophisticated program he came up with, coding his own nanites to transfer malware in his saliva, even increasing acidity to seep into another customer's skin so quick. And his chip had a virus that disabled your chip reader so you had to use the touch pad". I looked at the rash-like markon my index finger. "Sucks for him to get me as a victim."
"What's special about you? You a cyber super-hero with special powers?" The manager quipped.
"No, a coder and guinea pig for a cyber-security firm. We make the pay pads you use, in fact." Prompted by another nuzzle from Bruno, I lowered my hand to his head.
{Pet me, Friend, Bruno helps you feel better} I stroked the pup's head; it really was reassuring to do that right then.
I stroked the pup's head; it was really reassuring to do that right then.
"My nanites are programmed to respond to attacks from outside nanites like they would to a biological virus or even poisons." I was embarrassed by a sudden burp. "I'm probably the first to encounter an identity thief since we uploaded the code into the volunteer group I'm part of---" A volcano burp exploded out of me. I waited for the tittering to die down and then commented: "I'm glad it worked, but I'm STRONGLY recommending the lab tweak the response reaction to an infection."
"You volunteered for nanobot guinea pig duty?" Fred quipped. "Dude, I don't ever do anything beta!"
"Not the first time for me," I offered back. "I was a graduate at MIT when they needed volunteers for the first generation of medical 'bots." I fixed the manager with a serious glance. "Lost both grandmothers to Covid 37, probably because I was asymptomatic but infectious. If I could stop that happening to anyone else, I was willing to risk going full Borg."
An awed and appreciative murmur spread through the crowd gathered around us. Bruno pressed his jaw onto my knee and whined in sympathy... And, of course, a second volcano erupted from my stomach tobreak the mood.
"Fred, can you send a couple of Rovers out to the parking lot?" the manager asked the cashier. "Let them watch that guy, make sure he doesn't break out a window and run. Then you try to play traffic cop and guide cars away from that lane? And Fred? I need to talk with you about security and sanitizing the touch pads when this is over." As Fred sheepishly walked away, the manager turned back to apologize to me. "That hacker may be good, but if my guy'd made sure the touch pad was swiped with a wet nap, even if he had to do it himself, those malbots could have been stopped before they got to you."
"Don't be hard on the kid," I offered. "That hack probably did a slight of hand so Fred didn't notice? And how many of us actually do the courtesy wet wipe EVERY time we have to pay that way?" I always do, of course, but my remark was aimed at the customers gathering in a clump around me. Embarrassed grins and dipped heads brought a smile to my face. Human nature is human nature, after all? though it is the number one ally of thieves and pandemics.
Fred had gone outside, dutifully followed by a couple of mini-drones that had dropped from the ceiling above the entry door. He had just started to go up to cars backed up behind the hacker's stalled getaway car when a sudden musical blaring came out of the sky. People outside the store, inside cars, and walking looked up in surprise as unseen speakers broadcast "Ride of the Valkyries" from on high. Customers inside the store gasped and twittered in reaction;whines and barks from most of the other dogs in line or elsewhere in the store joined the chorus. Only a couple of older dogs and Bruno, all trained to be service canines, stayed quiet and attentive to their people.
The high-pitched whine of rotors joined the musical cacophony as downbursts of air announced the imminent arrival of a police drone. I smiled at the use of the music instead of a siren; whoever thought of using that device was a PR genius with a wicked sense of humor. The surveillance drone, half as long as the perp's car, settled on top of the vehicle and swung down suction clamps to its top. The drone's propeller blades started to settle to a stop; the purpose of the drone was not to lift the car out of the lot, but ensure it would stay disabled and unable to drive off. And no doubt deploy a Taser if the hacker did manage to bust out a reinforced safety window and try to run.
Two Police hover bikes pulled in front of the store; one officer dismounted his bike and strode towards the hacker's car while the other removed her helmet and entered the store to find me. It was all escorting to jail and incident reports from here on out. The manager waved at gawking employees to man the other cash registers and take care of the backlog of customers before turning to greet the officer.
Bruno was suddenly, earnestly, licking my left index finger.
"Bruno, no," his mom cried, jerking on his harness to pull him back. She looked at me in concern. "There's evidence there - "
"It's alright, mynanites will have destroyed anything in me already; the police will have all they need on that touch pad? How do I taste, Bruno?"
The dog was sitting quietly, his eyes turned slightly up into his head. I have no idea how a dog's Heads Up display transfers data, but it told Bruno what he needed.
{Blood had a blech, but Friend will be fine} The pup stood and got closer to me, looking up with concerned eyes. {Friend feels better? Bruno did good?}
The pup stood and got closer to me, looking up with concerned eyes.
"Bruno was wonderful," I said, leaning around the pay pad and reaching for the bowl of dog treats I knew this store had embedded at the end of the conveyor belt. I offered the Lab a big biscuit with one hand and gave a thankful rub of his head with the other.
"I just picked up a bug, is all."
END
Support Stephen Wyatt Clifford
