No Biz Like Showbiz

by Julie Moffett

  She nodded. “I liked it.”

  Kyle moved away. “Well, I’ll let you guys get to know each other. I’ll set you up a terminal and a place to work, Lexi. Okay?”

  “Great. Thanks.” I pulled over another swivel chair. “So, Melinda, how long have you worked here?”

  She clasped her hands in her lap and finally met my gaze. “About eight months. This is my first job.”

  “You like it?”

  “My friends think it’s cool that I work on a popular television show.”

  “Is it cool?”

  “Yes, I suppose it is. The work, that is. Not the show.”

  “You don’t like the show?”

  She shook her head. “Not much. Have you seen it?”

  “No, but I think the title sucks.”

  She laughed softly. “It truly does.”

  I crossed my legs. “I take it you’re up to speed on what is going on with this nutcase manipulating the votes. You notice anything unusual?”

  “My networks are secure.”

  “You sure?”

  Her hair swung away from her face. “Of course, I’m sure. I check the configurations daily. No irregularities. Kyle has checked it, too.”

  “Yet a cracker is getting in.”

  “I don’t know how.”

  “So what’s your theory on how he’s managed to manipulate the votes?”

  “I don’t have a clue. Maybe he’s using a new method or some kind of trick. After all, new cracks develop every day. But I swear my networks are safe.”

  “Apparently not safe enough.”

  “Look, I don’t know how he’s getting in. He’s either being let in, he has the passwords, or he’s developed some new magic trick I’ve never come across. I just don’t see it.”

  I rose. “Okay. Thanks for the insights. If you see anything unusual, alert me right away.”

  She nodded and turned back to her monitor. I walked over to two young guys who were arguing about something. The guy to my left was tall, thin and had curly brown hair and glasses. The guy on my right was shorter, muscular, and had a dark olive complexion, black hair and brown eyes.

  “What are you guys arguing about?” I asked.

  The guy with the curly hair stared at me suspiciously. “Who are you?” He pushed his glasses up on his nose.

  “Lexi Carmichael. I’ve been brought on board to help find the cracker who is manipulating the votes.”

  “You’re the hotshot from Washington?”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “You expecting someone else?”

  “Yeah, like a guy.”

  “Only guys can hunt crackers?”

  “Unless you can prove yourself.”

  “You know, that’s about the stupidest sexist comment I’ve ever heard. And I’ve heard plenty.”

  “It is what it is.”

  The shorter guy put a hand on his shoulder. “Noah, dude, back off. You are way out of line.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “No, it’s okay. I’m up to the challenge. Just how am I supposed to prove my worth to you, Noah?”

  He smiled. “Answer some questions, and answer them well. I need to see how much hot is in hotshot.”

  “Don’t make me hurl before we even start.”

  “Nervous?”

  “Not in the slightest.”

  “Good. Here is the first question. What does the x stand for in AGP 8x?”

  “Times the PCI speed.”

  “QBE stands for...”

  “Query by Example.”

  “What were the first female computer programmers called?”

  “Programmers. That’s a stupid sexist question.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t know the answer?”

  “Of course I know the answer, but the question remains sexist. Rosies, as in ring around. Look, if you’re going to test me, at least make it worthy of my time.”

  He pursed his lips. “What is the WEP protocol?”

  “Wired Equivalent Privacy. It uses an RC4 stream to encrypt data and has a single secret key of a length of 104 bit.”

  Before he could open his mouth again, I lifted a hand. “Now, let me turn this around, so I can see if you know your job. What would be the most efficient method to use if you were trying to crack a WEP?”

  He thought. “Shit, that’s tricky. I’m going to say the PTW technique.”

  I nodded. “Acceptable.”

  He smiled and stuck out a hand. “Okay, hotshot, you pass.”

  “That’s hotshot girl to you.” I shook his hand. “You pass, too, although you need to seriously lose the attitude about women.”

  “Okay, sorry about the sexist stuff. It’s mostly a defensive reaction born from years of difficult interactions with women. Besides, I can’t be sure about anyone these days. Things have been kind of tense around here. It’s got everyone on edge. Don’t know who to trust, you know what I mean?”

  “Possibly.”

  The shorter guy stuck out his hand. “Hey, Lexi, I’m Carlos Ramierez. Just for the record, I’m not sexist in any way.”

  “Noted.” I shook his hand as well. “Can you guys bring me up to speed?”

  Carlos frowned, dipping his head toward Kyle, who was sitting at a cubicle working on what I hoped would be my computer. “Didn’t he already do it?”

  “Sure, I got his version. I want to get yours. Sometimes what the boss sees isn’t always what the guys in the trenches see.”

  Noah laughed. “Not bad, girl boss. Hey, it’s okay if I call you that, right? I don’t mean it in a sexist way. Really.”

  “Sure, I guess.”

  “Cool.”

  I gestured toward the monitor. “Noah, you also deal with the social media for the show?”

  “Yeah, it’s one of my minor duties. Someone in media affairs for SWM actually does the posting and tweeting stuff. Technically, I’m the support analyst. I do the installation, testing, maintenance, repair and troubleshooting and resolving tech problems for the staff on premises and long distance.”

  “You the software specialist as well?”

  “Yep, that’s mostly me, too.”

  Carlos nervously twirled a pencil. “I’m a support analyst like Noah. I’m a jack-of-all trades, but I focus more on the hardware. We heard you were coming and weren’t sure what to think. Our jobs are on the line. In fact, we were just arguing about whether to run VDAS.”

  I frowned. “Vulnerability Detection and Assessment System?”

  Carlos nodded. “I thought it might be worth a shot.”

  Noah sighed. “Look, I’ve already run it. Twice. We’ve got nada. However this guys is getting in, he’s good, not to mention ghostly. No trace of the bastard. It’s my not-so-humble opinion that another run of VDAS would be a royal waste of time. But if you want to do it, girl boss, be my guest.”

  I tried not to roll my eyes. “Okay, any gut feeling as to who is doing this or how he’s getting in?”

  Carlos shook his head. “No freaking idea, man. Noah is right. He’s like a phantom. No trail anywhere. He’s burned our asses on this.”

  Noah nodded. “Yeah, he’s a master.”

  “Either of you sympathetic to his cause?”

  Carlos laughed. “Damn straight we are. Look, this show is a joke. They picked the most unstable guys out there. These guys aren’t geeks—they’re freaks. Seriously. It makes us look bad. But this show is my bread and butter until I can get enough experience to move somewhere else.”

  Noah shrugged. “Who really cares in the big scheme of things? Everything in Hollywood is fake anyway.”

  I nodded. “Okay, I’ve got a few hours before the results show. Where do I find this Lucy girl?”

  Noah stuck a pencil b
ehind his ear. “I’ll take you to her.”

  Chapter Five

  We stopped outside a dressing room where a young woman with brown hair streaked with pink highlights was curling the ponytail of a woman sitting in a black chair in front of a mirror.

  Noah pointed. “Lucy’s the blonde in the chair.”

  I examined Lucy’s reflection. She wore a pair of purple yoga pants, and a clingy, low-cut silver top. She was stacked. She had a pretty face, but you could hardly see it behind a funky pair of oversized black-rimmed glasses that seemed completely at odds with the rest of her appearance.

  “What’s her deal?” I asked.

  “She’s a geophysics major from the University of Penn I think.”

  “You think?”

  “It’s her official bio, but...”

  “But what?”

  “I’ll let you come to your own conclusions, girl boss.” He turned and strode down the hall whistling.

  I shook my head and stepped into the dressing room, passing the young woman with the pink-streaked hair on her way out.

  Lucy removed her oversized glasses and shook her head left and right, watching the ponytail swing back and forth. She saw me in the mirror and frowned.

  “Who the hell are you?”

  I walked around to the side of the chair. “I’m Lexi Carmichael. I’m here to help SWM catch the guy who has been manipulating all the votes.”

  “Thank God. It’s about time Cartwright stood up to that jerk. He’s been messing up everything.”

  “I understand he sent you an email.”

  “Not just me. That computer guy, Kyle, got the same creepy email. Some rambling sob story about how he got bullied when he was younger and how he’s going to mess up the show. What a sap.”

  “Any idea why he targeted you and Kyle specifically?”

  “How the hell would I know? I get all kinds of freaky fan mail. I don’t pay attention. But he’s messing with the natural rhythm of the show, and that I care about.”

  “How exactly is he messing with the natural rhythm?”

  “He’s rigging the voting and consistently sticks me with the guy I obviously don’t like. It’s a travesty. Even the fans can’t be that stupid.”

  She peered at the mirror, tugged on her eyelashes. “Shit. It’s not working.” She stood up and yelled. “Mandy, get in here and fix my damn mascara. I’ve got clumpy lashes.”

  The girl with the pink-streaked hair rushed in with a towel on her shoulder. “I’ve got to help the guys. What’s the problem?”

  “The mascara is the problem. It sucks.”

  “You didn’t like the waterproof, remember? You said it made your lashes clump.”

  “Well, I changed my mind. Give me the waterproof.”

  I stared hard at Lucy. I’d never heard a geek girl worry about clumpy lashes.

  Mandy rolled her eyes. “I’ll bring it in a minute.”

  Lucy looked back at me. “Why exactly are you still here?”

  I considered her for a moment. “Trying to get to the bottom of this hacker problem, remember?”

  “Well, why the hell are you wasting your time with me? Go back to your computer, keyboard, or whatever tech crap you use and do something useful.”

  I crossed my arms across my chest. “I have another question first.”

  “What question?”

  “What you think of the new technology for the multi-beam echo sounders?”

  She stared at me. “Huh?”

  “Echo sounders. I read about some new technical developments in the software on NOAA’s NGDC website.”

  “The NOAA what?”

  “NOAA’s NGDC. The National Ocean and Atmospheric Administration’s National Geophysical Data Center.”

  She glared at me. “What the hell is wrong with you? There aren’t any cameras rolling.”

  I crossed my arms. “Let me take a wild guess. You are not a geophysics major.”

  “No shit, sherlock.”

  “Then why are you pretending you are?”

  “Are you for freaking real? This is reality television. Nothing is real.”

  “Wait a minute. You’re faking being a geek?”

  “Of course I’m faking it. No one would act this way on purpose.”

  “None of the guys have noticed?”

  “Why should they? They aren’t trying to talk to me on their level. They’re all too busy trying to figure out how to get some of this.” She leaned forward and squished her boobs together. “Besides, if they ask me a stupid question like you just did, the producers simply cut it.”

  “Cut it?”

  “God. Don’t you know anything? They don’t actually air our real conversations on the show. It would bore everyone to death. The producers make up whatever conversations they want. Cut and paste excerpts so people say something interesting or create drama. It’s called frankenbiting. It makes for great television.”

  “So, there is absolutely nothing real about this show?”

  “Duh. And you’re supposed to be the smart one.”

  I shook my head. “There is something seriously wrong with you people.”

  “Me? That’s a laugh. Because when it comes right down to it, girlfriend, this show sure as hell isn’t making fun of my type.”

  Her laughter trailed after me as I left her to her clumpy lashes. I called Finn as soon as I could find a quiet corner.

  “It’s all a fake. The entire freaking show.”

  Finn exhaled. “It’s reality television.”

  “Look, I understand that Hollywood gets to make stuff up and call it reality. I really do get that. However, in regards to this particular so-called reality show, suspension of disbelief is one thing. But this is a gross misrepresentation. It’s wrong on so many levels I don’t know where to start.”

  “I understand this is difficult, Lexi. Don’t take it personally. It’s just a television show.”

  “Don’t take it personally? They’re portraying geeks in the worst possible light for laughs. It’s cruel. It’s inhumane. But worse, it’s inaccurate.”

  “Trust me, I’m in full agreement. Regardless, there is that pesky little matter called freedom of expression.”

  I growled. “Don’t start with me. Am I talking to Finn the cyber intelligence guru or Finn the lawyer?”

  He sighed. “Both. Look, don’t misinterpret me, Lexi. I’m not defending reality television.”

  “Then explain it to me. Why in the world do people watch something like this?”

  He paused. “It’s like a train wreck, I guess. No one wants to watch, but people can’t seem to look away.”

  Basia had said the same thing, but I still didn’t get how train wrecks made good television. “You do realize that was not a useful explanation.”

  “Fine.” His accent started to slip and the Irish appeared, which usually happened when he got mad. “You want me to tell you it’s all a big cluster farce? Well, it is.”

  I thought about that for a moment. “No, it’s worse than that. It’s offensive, petty and dumb. Even the girl is a fake.”

  “What girl?”

  “Lucy.” I shouted in the phone. “The so-called babe prize. She’s not even a geek. She’s pretending to be a geek. It’s beyond insulting.”

  Finn made a strange, strangled sound and then cleared his throat. “Just try to focus, Lexi. Ignore the extraneous. It’s not important. She’s not important. Find the bloody hacker and come home.”

  I tried to calm myself. Finn was right. This was a job, a paycheck and not a moral stance. I needed to find the hacker. Not expose a fake show that apparently everyone on the planet liked, except for me and the hacker I had been sent to bring down.

  Jeez.

 
; “Okay, okay. Fine. I got it covered.”

  “That’s my girl. You need any help?”

  “No. I think it’s a fairly simple solution. But first I need to meet the guys on the show. They may have some insights I’m missing.”

  Chapter Six

  I headed over to Tony’s office and asked him where I could find the guys. He walked me through the studio to what he referred to as the Red Room, a staging area for the guys to relax before the show started.

  “The guys should be out of hair and makeup by now.”

  “The guys wear makeup?”

  He laughed. “God, the look on your face. Yes, they wear makeup. Trust me, the camera is not kind. But it’s not what you’re thinking. Mandy, our makeup technician, just smoothes things out for the guys as needed.”

  “Define smoothes.”

  “Hides the blemishes, acne and occasionally plays up their other features a bit. They look much better for it, trust me.”

  “Actually, I feel kind of sick thinking about it.”

  He laughed again. We found the guys sitting in a totally red room, hence the name Red Room. It had several red overstuffed chairs, a circular red couch and a red table. A mahogany bar stood in the back corner flanked by red barstools and a flashing red neon light that said Geeks Get Some. It gave me a headache the second I walked in.

  I counted seven contestants. Tony had told me they started with fifteen, so they were down more than half. He’d also told me that Cartwright had chosen the most extreme examples of a geek, whatever that meant. He’d gone on about some of their quirks, but none of it sounded overly relevant, so I’d tuned him out about halfway through his spiel. I figured I’d just have to size them up on my own.

  One of the contestants stood up when he saw me. He was dressed in a flannel red and brown checked shirt tucked into a pair of khaki pants. His wiry brown hair looked like he had just stuck his finger in an electrical socket.

  “Are you helping out Mandy?” He started walking toward me. “I need my hair fixed again.”

  Another guy with short red hair and a pudgy face snorted. “Yeah, you need some gel to lock it in place, Anson.”

  I shook my head. “Me? Ah, no. I’m Lexi Carmichael. I’m here helping the IT staff out with some technical issues.”