every crevice of the place, driven by a force that she could not come
close to identifying. She sat for hours in the small window seat in the
kitchen, her mind racing through her years of marriage. Every detail of
those years, even moments of relative insignificance, came surging up
from the depths of her subconscious. At times her mouth curled in
amusement as she recalled a particularly funny memory.
Those instances were brief, however, and were always followed by
wracking sobs as the realization that there would be no more fun times
with Jason came crashing down on her.
Finally stirring, she rose and walked up the stairs, drifted slowly down
the hallway and entered Jason’s small study. She looked around at the
spare contents, then sat down in front of the computer.
She moved her hand across the glass screen. Jason had loved computers
ever since she had known him. She was computer functional, but, aside
from word processing and checking her e-mail, her knowledge of the world
of computer hardware and software was extremely limited.
Jason did quite a bit of correspondence by e-mail and normally checked
his electronic mailbox every day. Sidney hadn’t checked it since the
plane crash. She decided it was time to do so. Many of Jason’s friends
had probably sent messages. She turned the computer on and watched the
screen as a series of numbers and words trooped across that were, in
large part, meaningless to her. The only one she did recognize was
available memory. There was a lot of it. The system had been
customized for her husband and was bursting with power.
She stared at the available memory number. With a jolt she realized
that the last three digits, 7, 3 and 0, constituted the date of Jason’s
birthday, July 30. A deep breath prevented a quick relapse into tears.
She slid open the desk drawer and idly fumbled through its contents. As
an attorney she well knew the number of documents and procedures that
would have to be gone through as Jason’s estate was settled. Most of
their property was jointly held, but there were still many legal hoops.
Everyone eventually had to face such things, but she couldn’t believe
she had to confront them so soon.
Her fingers sifted over papers and miscellaneous office paraphernalia in
the drawer, closing’ over one object, which she pulled out.
Although she was unaware of the fact, she was holding the card Jason had
thrust there before leaving for the airport. She looked at it closely.
It looked like a credit card, but stamped on it was the name “Triton
Global,” followed by “Jason Archer” and, finally, the words “Code
Restricted–Level 6.” Her brow furrowed. She had never seen it before.
She assumed it was some type of security pass, although it did not have
her husband’s photo on it. She slipped it into her pocket. The company
would probably want it back.
She accessed America Online and was greeted by the computerized voice
announcing that mail was indeed present in their electronic mailbox. As
she had thought, it contained numerous messages from their friends. She
read through them, crying freely.
Finally she lost all desire to complete the task and started to exit out
of the computer. She jumped as another e-mail suddenly flashed on the
screen; it was addressed to ArchieJW2@aol.com, which was her husband’s
e-mail address. In the next instant it was gone, like a mischievous
inspiration scurrying through one’s head before disappearing.
Sidney hit some function keys and quickly checked the computerized
mailbox again. Her brow tightened into a sea of wrinkles when she
discovered it was completely empty. Sidney continued to stare at the
screen. A creeping sensation was pushing her to the conclusion that she
had just imagined the entire episode. It had happened so damn quickly.
She rubbed at her painful eyes and sat there for another few minutes,
anxiously waiting to see if the performance would be repeated, although
she had no idea of its meaning. The screen remained blank.
Moments after Jason Archer had re-sent his message, another e-mail was
announced by the computerized voice saying, “You’ve got mail.” This time
the message held and was duly logged into the mailbox. However, this