<The name's Mary,> she said. <Mary97.>
<Ken678.>
<You slowed when you passed me last week, Ken. Neat trick, too. I figure that made you almost worth an intro. Most of the workaholics here in City Hall are pretty unsociable.>
Ken showed her his Folder trick even though she seemed to know it already.
<How long have you been at City?> he asked.
<Too long.>
<How come I have never seen you before?>
<Maybe you saw me but didn't notice me,> she said. She held up a hand with red fingernails. <I didn't always have these.>
<Where'd you get them?>
<It's a secret.>
<They're pretty neat,> Ken said.
<Is that pretty or neat?>
<Both.>
<Are you flirting with me?> she asked, smiling that Mary smile.
Ken tried to think of an answer, but he was too slow. Her Folder was blinking, a waitstate interrupt, and she was gone.
A few cycles later in the week he saw her again, paused at an open Window in the Corridor between Copy and Verify. He slid his Folder over hers, flush right, and he was standing beside her, looking out into April in Paris.
<You learn fast,> she said.
<I have a good teacher,> he said. Then he said what he had been rehearsing over and over: <And what if I was?>
<Was what?>
<Flirting.>
<That would be OK,> she said, smiling the Mary smile.
Ken678 wished for the first time that the Ken face had a smile. His Folder was flickering, but he didn't want to leave yet. <How long have you been at City?> he asked again.
<Forever,> she said. She was exaggerating, of course, but in a sense it was true. She told Ken she had been at City Hall when Microserf Office 6.9 was installed. <Before Office, records were stored in a basement, in metal drawers, and accessed by hand. I helped put it all on disk. Data entry, it was called.>
<Entry?>
<This was before the neural interface. We sat outside and reached in through a Keyboard and looked in through a sort of window that they called a Monitor. There was nobody in Office. Just pictures of files and stuff. There was no April in Paris, of course. That was added later to prevent claustrophobia.>
Ken678 calculated in his head. How old did that make Mary—55? 60? It didn't matter. All icons are young, and all females are beautiful.
Ken had never had a friend before, in or out of the Office. Much less a girlfriend. He found himself hurrying his Calls and Tasks so he could cruise the Corridors looking for Mary97. He could usually find her at an open Window, gazing at the cobblestones and the little cafés, the blooming chestnut trees. Mary loved April in Paris. <It's so romantic there,> she said. <Can't you just imagine yourself walking down the boulevard?>
<I guess,> Ken said. But in fact he couldn't. He didn't like to imagine things. He preferred real life, or at least Microserf Office 6.9. He loved standing at the Window beside her, listening to her soft Mary voice, answering in his deep Ken voice.
<How did you get here?> she asked. Ken told her he had been hired as a temp, transporting scanned-in midcentury documents up the long stairway from Archives to Active.
<My name wasn't Ken then, of course,> he said. <All the temp icons wore gray, male and female alike. We were neural interfaced through helmets instead of earrings. None of the regular Office workers spoke to us, or even noticed us. We worked 14, 15-cycle days.>
<And you loved it,> Mary said.
<I loved it,> Ken admitted. <I found what I was looking for. I loved being inside.> And he told her how wonderful and strange it had felt, at first, to be an icon; to see himself as he walked around, as if he were both inside and outside his own body.
<Of course, it seems normal now,> he said.
<It is,> Mary said. And she smiled that Mary smile.
Several weeks passed before Ken got up the courage to make what he thought of as “his move.”
They were at the Window where he had first spoken with her, in the Corridor between Copy and Verify. Her hand was resting on the sill, red fingernails shimmering, and he put his hand exactly over it. Even though he couldn't actually feel it, it felt good.
He was afraid she would move her hand, but instead she smiled that Mary smile and said, <I didn't think you were ever going to do that.>
<I've been wanting to since I first saw you,> he said.
She moved her fingers under his. It almost tingled. <Want to see what makes them red?>
<You mean your secret?>
The Browser was a circular connector with no Windows. Ken met Mary at Select All and followed her toward Insert, where the doors got smaller and closer together.
<Ever hera of an Easter Egg?> she asked.
“Sure,> Ken said. <A programmer' surprise that is hidden in the software. An unauthorized subroutine that's not in the manual. Sometimes humorous or even obscene. Easter Eggs are routinely—>
<You're just repeating what you learned in Orientation,> Mary said.
<—found and cleared from commercial software by background Debuggers and Optimizers.> Ken finished because it was already in his buffer.
<But that's OK,> she said. <Here we are.>
Mary97 led him into a small Windowless room. There was nothing in it but a tiny, heart-shaped table.
<This room was reased but never overwritten,> Mary said. <The Optimizer must have missed it. That's why the Easter Egg is still here. I discovered it by accident.>
On the table were three playing cards. Two were facedown and one was faceup; the ten of diamonds.
<Ready?> Without waiting for Ken's answer, Mary turned the ten of diamonds facedown. Her fingernails were no longer red.
<Now you try it,> she said.
Ken backed away.
<Don't get nervous. This card does not do anything; it just changes the Option. Go ahead!>
Reluctantly, Ken turned up the ten of diamonds.
Mary's fingernails were red again. Nothing happened to his own.
<That first card works just for girls,> Mary said.
<Neat,> Ken said, relaxing a little.
<There's plenty more,> Mary said. <Ready?>
<I guess.>
Mary turned up the second card. It was the queen of hearts. As soon as she turned it up, Ken heard a clippety-clop, and a window opened in the windowless room.
In the window it was April in Paris.
Ken saw a gray horse coming straight down the center of the boulevard. It wore no harness, but its tail and mane were bobbed. Its enormous red penis was almost dragging the cobblestones.
<See the horse?> Mary97 said. She was standing beside Ken at the window. Her convex white blouse and orange tie both were gone. She was wearing a red lace brassiere. The sheer cups were full. The narrow straps were taut. The tops of her plump breasts were round and bright as moons.
Ken678 couldn't move or speak. It was terrifying and wonderful at the same time. Mary's hands were behind her back, unfastening her brassiere. There! But just as the cups started to fall away from her breasts, a whistle blew.
The horse had stopped in the middle of the boulevard. A gendarme was running toward it, waving a stick.
The window closed. Mary97 was standing at the table, wearing her convex white blouse and orange tie again. only the ten of diamonds was faceup.
<You turned the card down too soon,> Ken said. He had wanted to see her nipples.
<The queen turns herself down,> Mary said. <An Easter Egg is a closed algorithm. Runs itself once it gets started. Did you like it? And don't say you guess.>
She smiled that Mary smile and Ken tried to think of what to say. But both their Folders were blinking, waitstate interrupts, and she was gone.
Ken found her a couple cycles later at their usual meeting place, at the open window in the Corridor between Copy and Verify.
<Like it?> he said. <I love
d it.>
<Are you flirting with me?> Mary97 asked.
<What if I am?> he said, and the familiar words were almost as good as a smile.
<Then come with me.>
Ken678 followed Mary97 to the Browser twice more that week. Each time was the same; each time was perfect. As soon as Mary turned over the queen of hearts, Ken heard a clippety-clop. A Window opened in the Windowless room and there was the horse again, coming down the boulevard, its enormous penis almost dragging the cobblestones. Mary97's ripe, round, perfect breasts were spilling over the top of her red lace brassiere as she said, <See the horse?> and reached behind her back, unfastening—
Unfastening her bra! And just as the cups started to fall away, just as Ken678 was about to see her nipples, a gendarme's whistle blew and Mary97 was wearing the white blouse again and the orange tie. The Window was closed, the queen of hearts facedown.
<The only problem with Easter Eggs,> Mary said, <is that they are always the same. Whoever designed this one obviously had a case of arrested development.>
<I like always the same,> Ken replied.
As he left for the weekend, Ken678 scanned the crowd of office regulars filling down the long steps of City Hall. Which woman was Mary97? There was, of course, no way of knowing. They were all ages, all nationalities, but they all looked the same with their blank stares, neural-interface gold earrings, and mesh marks from their net gloves.
The weekend seemed to last forever. As soon as the week restarted, Ken raced through his Calls and Tasks, then cruised the Corridors until he found Mary at “their” spot, the open Window between Copy and Verify.
<Isn't it romantic?> she said, looking out into April in Paris.
<I guess,> said Ken impatiently. He was thinking of her hands behind her back, unfastening.
<What could be more romantic?> she asked, and he could tell she was teasing.
<A red brassiere,> he said.
<Then come with me,> she said.
They met in the Browser three times that week. Three times Ken678 heard the horse, three times he watched the red lace brassiere falling away, falling away. That week was the closest to happiness he would ever come.
<Do you ever wonder what's under the third card?> Mary97 asked. They were standing at the Window between Copy and Verify. A new week had barely restarted. In April in Paris the chestnuts were in bloom above the cobblestones. The cafés were empty. A few stick figures in the distance were getting in and out of carriages.
<I guess,> Ken678 said, though it was't true. He didn't like to wonder.
<Me too,> said Mary.
When they met a few cycles later in the Windowless room off the Browser, Mary put her red-fingernailed hand on the third card and said, <There's one way to find out.>
Ken didn't answer. He felt a sudden chill.
<We both have to do it,> she said. <You turn up the queen and I'll turn up the third card. Ready?>
<I guess,> Ken said, though it was a lie.
The third card was the ace of spades. As soon as it was turned up, Krn know somthing was wrong.
Something felt different.
It was the cobblestones under his feet.
It was Aprill in Paris and Ken678 was walking down the boulevard. Mary was beside him. She was wearing a lowcut, sleeveless peasant blouse and a long, full skirt.
Ken was terrified. Where was the Window? Where was the Windowless room? <Where are?> he asked.
<We are in April in Paris,> Mary said. <Inside the exvironment! Isn't it exciting?>
Ken tried to stop walking, but he couldn't. <I think we're stuck,> he said. He tried to close his eyes to avoid panic, but he couldn't.
Mary just smiled the Mary smile and they walked along the boulevard, under the blooming chestnut trees. They passed a café, they turned a corner; they passed another café turned another corner. It was always the same. The same trees, the same café, the same cobblestones. The carriages and stick figures in the distance never got any closer.
<Isn't it romantic?> Mary said. <And don't say you guess.>
She looked different somehow. Maybe it was the outfit. Her peasant blouse was cut very low. Ken tried to look down it but coundn't.
They passed another café. This time Mary97 turned in, and Ken was sitting across from her at a small sidewalk table.
<Voilà!> she said. <This Easter Egg is more interactive. You just have to look for new ways to do things.> She was still table in the Windowless room. Ken leaned across it but still couldn't see down her blouse.
<Isn't it romantic!> Mary said. <Why Don't you let me order?>
<It's time to head back,> Ken said. <I'll bet our Folders—>
<Don't be silly,> Mary said, opening the menu.
<—are blinking like crazy,> he finished because it was already in his buffer.
A waiter appeared. He wore a white shirt and black pants. Ken tried to look at his face, but he didn't exactly have one. There were only three items on the menu:
WALK
ROOM
HOME
Mary pointed at ROOM, and before she had closed the menu they were in a wedge-shaped attic room with French doors, sitting on the edge of a bed. Now Ken could see down Mary97's blouse. In fact he could see his two hands reach out and pull it down, uncovering her two plump, perfect breasts. her nipples were as big and as brown as cookies. Through the French doors Ken could see the Eiffel Tower and the boulevard.
<Mary,> he said as she helped him pull up her skirt. Smiling that Mary smile, she lay back with her blouse and skirt both bunched around her waist. Ken heard a familiar clippety-clop from the boulevard belows as Mary spread her plump, perfect thighs wide.
<April in Paris,> she said. Her red-tipped fingers pulled her little French underpants to one side and
He kissed her sweet mouth. <Mary!> he said.
Her red-tipped fingers pulled her little French underpants to one side and
He kissed her sweet red mouth. <Mary!> he said.
Her red-tipped fingers pulled her little French underpants to one side and
He kissed her sweet red cookie mouth. <Mary!> he said.
A gendarme's whistle blew and they were back at the sidewalk café. The menu was closed on the heart-shaped table. <Did you like that?> Mary asked. <And don't say you gues.>
<Like it? I loved it,> Ken said. <But shouldn't we head back?>
<Back?< Mary shrugged. Ken didn't know she could shrug. She was holding a glass of green liquid.
Ken opened the menu and the faceless waiter appeared.
There were three items on the menu. Before Mary could point, Ken pointed at HOME, and the table and the waiter were gone. He and Mary97 were in the Windowless room, and the cards were facedown except for the ten of diamonds.
<Why do you want to spoil everything?> Mary said.
<I don't—> Ken started, but he never got to finish. His Folder was blinking, waitstate interrupt, and he was gone.
<It was romantic,> Ken678 insisted a few cycles later when he joined Mary97 in their usual spot, at the Window in the Corridor between Copy and Verify. <And I did love it.>
<Then why were you so nervous?>
<Was I nervous?>
She smiled that Mary smile.
<Because I just get nervous,> Ken said. <Because April in Paris is not really part of Microserf Office 6.9.>
<Sure it is. It's the exvironment.>
<It's just Wallpaper. We're not supposed to be in there.>
<It's an Easter Egg,> Mary97 said. <We're not supposed to be having an office romance, either.>
<An office romance,> Ken said. <Is that what we're having?>
<Come with me and I'll show you,> Mary said, and he did. And she did.
And he did and she did and they did. He met her three times that week and three times the next week, every spare moment, it seemed. The cobblestones and the cafés still made Ken678 nervous, but he loved the wedge-shaped attic room. He loved Mary's nipples as big and as brown as cookies; loved her blouse and skirt
bunched around her waist as she lay on her back with her plump, perfect thighs spread wide; loved the clippety-clop and her red-tipped fingers and her little French underpants pulled to one side; loved her.
It was, after all, a love affair.
The problem was, Mary97 never wanted to go back to Microserf Office 6.9. After the wedge-shaped room she wanted to walk on the boulevard under the blooming chestnut trees, or sit in a café watching the stick figures get in and out of carriages in the distance.
<Isn't it romantic?> she would say, swirling the green liquid in her glass.
<Time to head back,> Ken would say. <I'll bet our Folders are blinking like crazy.>
<You always say that,> Mary would always say.
Ken678 had always hated weekends because he missed the warm electron buzz of Microserf Office 6.9, but now he missed it during the week as well. If he wanted to be with Mary97 (and he did, he did!) it meant April in Paris. Ken missed “their” Window in the Corridor between Copy and Verify. He missed the busy streaming icons and the Folders bulging with files and blinking with Calls and Tasks. He missed the red brassiere.
<What happens,> Ken asked late one week <if we turn over just the queen?>
He was turning over just the queen.
<Nothing,> Mary answered. <Nothing but the red brassiere.>
She was already turning over the ace.
<We need to talk,> Ken678 said finally. It was April in Paris, as usual. He was walking with Mary97 along the boulevard, under the blooming chestnut trees.
<What about?> she asked. She turned a corner, then another.
<Things,> he said.
<Isn't it romantic?> she said as she turned into a café.
<I guess,> he said. <But—>
<I hate it when you say that,> Mary said.
<—I miss the Office,> Ken finished because it was already in his buffer.
Mary97 shrugged. <To each his own.> She swirled the green liquid in her glass. It was thick as syrup; it clung to the sides of the glass. Ken had the feeling she was looking through him instead of at him. He tried to see down her peasant blouse but couldn't.