"What's funny?"
"Father," said Peter. "Didn't it occur to you that we had software on the system doing exactly the same job?"
"Which software did you use?" asked Ferreira.
John Paul told him and Ferreira sighed. "Ordinarily my software would have detected his and wiped it out," he said. "But your father has a very privileged access to the net. So privileged that my snoopware had to let it by."
"But didn't your software at least tell you?" asked Peter, annoyed.
"His is interrupt-driven, mine is native in the operating system," said Ferreira. "Once his snoopware got past the initial barrier and was resident in the system, there was nothing to report. Both programs do the same job, just at different times in the machine's cycle. They read the keypress and pass the information on to the operating system, which passes it on to the program. They also pass it on to their own keystroke log. But both programs clear the buffer so that the keystroke doesn't get read twice."
Peter and John Paul both made the same gesture--hands to the forehead, covering the eyes. They understood at once, of course.
Keystrokes came in and got processed by Ferreira's snoopware or by John Paul's--but never by both. So both keystroke logs would show nothing but random letters, none of which would amount to anything meaningful. None of which would ever look like a log-on--even though there were log-ons all over the system all the time.
"Can we combine the logs?" asked John Paul. "We have all the keystrokes, after all."
"We have the alphabet, too," said Ferreira, "and if we just find the right order to arrange them in, those letters will spell out everything that was ever written."
"It's not as bad as that," said Peter. At least the letters are in order. It shouldn't be that hard to meld them together in a way that makes sense."
"But we have to meld all of them in order to find Achilles's log-ons."
"Write a program," said Peter. "One that will find everything that might be a log-on by him, and then you can work on the material immediately following those possibles."
"Write a program," murmured Ferreira.
"Or I will," said Peter. "I don't have anything else to do."
That sarcasm doesn't make people love you, Peter, said John Paul silently.
Then again, there was no chance, given Peter's parents, that such sarcasm would not come readily to his lips.
"I'll sort it out," said Ferreira.
"I'm sorry," said John Paul.
Ferreira only sighed. "Didn't it at least cross your mind that we would have software already in place to do the same job?"
"You mean you had snoopware that would give me regular reports on what Achilles was writing?" asked John Paul. Oops. Peter's not the only sarcastic one. But then, I'm not trying to unite the world.
"There's no reason for you to know," said Peter.
Time to bite the bullet. "I think Achilles is planning to kill your mother."
"Father," said Peter impatiently. "He doesn't even know her."
"Do you think there's any chance that he didn't hear that she tried to get into his room?"
"But...kill her?" asked Ferreira.
"Achilles doesn't do things by half-measures," said John Paul. "And nobody is more loyal to Peter than she is."
"Not even you, Father?" asked Peter sweetly.
"She doesn't see your faults," lied John Paul. "Her motherly instincts blind her."
"But you have no such handicap."