American citizens and citizens of countries all around the world would be surprised to know the depth of their government's record-keeping of both their public and private lives. Invasive was a small word for it.
Mister John Lazak before becoming CEO had cut his teeth as an exec in charge of acquisitions. That was a hard job to have and not have gotten dirty hands. There had been one incident during that time of a man, who alleged, that Raton Pharmaceutical had stolen the proprietary results of some studies he had been doing under the cover of a university's funding grant.
He had some convincing evidence to prove his allegations, but everything seemed to have blown over after the man had succumbed to a heart attack. That was four years ago. John had only been promoted to CEO last year. I glanced over at Kevin placidly eating his breakfast. What was he trying to tell me other than the obvious?
Better yet how had he hacked this folder from the FBI database? I knew he was a genius, but given his condition how was this possible? He was only seven years old!
Throw away both of these odd occurrences from a seven-year-old and you still had the mystery of what in the world was going on with this old computer!
It was a piece of antiquated junk! A worn sticker on the monitor identified it as Windows 95 operating system. Something that old would move at a snail's pace and wouldn't even be compatible with most current software's.
How had Kevin hacked the FBI database with it? Forget that, how was even getting on the internet? This relic was before Wi-Fi for sure!
I looked over at Kevin again. I had so many questions I wanted to ask, but couldn't. He got up and came over to me and punched in a series of seemingly random keys that spelled nothing. The file folder shrunk to a thumbnail size on the screen.
An eerie feeling swept through me as red tracer lines radiated off the thumbnail file icon into other thumbnail icons that appeared all across the screen until it was full of them. I moused over a thumbnail and as I did a page came up large screen.
Maria Sarasena, age 34 died of a heart attack like symptoms, 2002. There were more just like her all over the screen, twenty seven in all. I had only gone down one branch of the tree of red lines that spread out across the monitor before me.
I was pretty sure that what was represented on the screen was at least in some part related to linchpin theory, which was basically a theory that stated that a small unlikely event could cause a greater calamity. It was often characterized as a theory of probable events based off of tidbits of facts of interlaced stories to show meaningful conclusions of the past, present, and possible future.