Chapter 27 Section 26

D'Agosta was on the far side of the museum when the intercom rang.Urgent, sightings, District 18, computer room. He sighed, shoving the walkie-talkie back into its holster, thinking about how sore his feet were.Everyone in this damn place is witnessing ghosts and ghosts. A dozen people gathered in the corridor outside the computer room, talking and laughing nervously at each other.Two uniformed policemen stood by the closed door. "Well," D'Agosta unwrapped a cigar, "who saw it?" A young man pushed forward.White coat, sloping shoulders, glasses with the bottom of a Coke bottle, and a calculator and papers hanging from his belt.Good God, thought D'Agosta: where do museums get these guys?It's just perfect.

"Actually, I didn't see anything," he said, "but there was a loud bang in the electronics room. It sounded like a door was being knocked on. Someone was trying to knock that door open—" D'Agosta turned to the two officers and said, "Let's go and see." He turned the doorknob, and someone hastily handed him the key, explaining, "Locked. Don't want anything to get out—" D'Agosta waved.The situation is getting ridiculous.Everyone is suspicious.How on earth do you have a grand opening reception tomorrow night?The damn place should be closed after the first murder.

The computer room is a spacious circular room that is spotlessly clean.A five-foot-tall white column sits in the center of the room on a pedestal, bathed in bright neon light.D'Agosta figured that was the host of the museum.The computer hums softly, surrounded by terminals, workstations, desks and bookcases.There were two closed doors on the opposite wall. "You look around," he ordered his men, stuffing the unlit cigar into his mouth, "I'll talk to that brother and take notes." He goes back outside. "Name?" he asked. "Roger Sorencap. I'm the shift supervisor."

"Very well," D'Agosta took notes wearily, "you reported a noise in the data processing room." "No, sir, the data processing room is upstairs. This is the computer room. We monitor the hardware and do the system work." "Then the computer room." He continued to record, "When did you first notice the abnormal noise?" "What time was it after ten o'clock. We just finished the log." "When you heard the abnormal noise, you were reading documents." "No, sir. Log tapes. We just finished our daily backup."

"I see. Did you finish at ten o'clock?" "Can't back up during peak hours, sir. We got special permission to be in the office at six o'clock in the morning." "You're lucky. Where did the noise you heard come from?" "Electronic room." "That is--?" "That door to the left of MP3. MP3 is that computer, sir." "I see two doors there," D'Agosta said. "Where does the other door go?" "Oh, that's the black light room. There's a card system on the door, and no one can get in."

D'Agosta looked at each other inexplicably. "There are hard disk groups and other things stored in it. You know, it is storage equipment. It is called the black light room because it is fully automatic, and no one can enter except for maintenance." He nodded proudly, "We No operators here. DP is in the stone age compared to us. They need operators to manually load tapes, no tape lockers or anything like that." D'Agosta went indoors. "They heard a noise in the door on the left at the back. Let's go and see." He turned to Soren Cape and said, "Keep no one in."

The door leading to the electronic room opened as soon as it was pushed, and the smell of hot wires and ozone came to the face.D'Agosta groped around the wall, found the light switch, and snapped it on. According to the rules, he scanned the room first.transformer.Grille vents.cables.Several large air conditioners.The heat wave is rolling in.Nothing else. "Look at the back of the device," D'Agosta said. The two police officers looked closely.A police officer looked over at him and shrugged. "Well," D'Agosta returned to the computer room, "I don't look like there is a problem. Mr. Soren Cape?"

"What?" He poked his head in. "Call your men back. It looks all right, but we'll be stationed for thirty-six hours." He turned to a police officer who had just stepped out of the electronics room, "Waters, you stay for the rest of the shift." .Routine, get it? I'll get you replaced." A few more sightings and I'm running out of officers. "Okay," Waters replied. "Wise," said Soren Cape, "this room is the heart of the museum, understand? Rather, we manage the brain. Telephones, facilities, internet, small print, e-mail, security system—"

"Of course," said D'Agosta.I don't know if this security system is the same as the one that doesn't have an accurate blueprint for the lower basement. Employees began to return to the room and sat down in front of the terminal.D'Agosta wiped his forehead.The ghost place can be hot to death.He turned to leave. "Roger," he heard someone say behind him, "something went wrong." D'Agosta hesitated. "Oh my God," Soren Cape exclaimed, staring at the monitor, "the system is in hex dump mode. Fuck—" "Roger, was the main terminal still in backup mode when you left it?" a short, buck-toothed man asked. "If the backup finishes and there's no response, it goes into bottom dump mode."

"You're probably right," Roger said, "abort the dump and make sure all partitions are mounted." "no response." "The operating system has crashed?" Soren Cape lay prone in front of the buck-toothed monitor, "Let me see." The alarm sounded in the room, not very loud, but high-pitched and non-stop.D'Agosta saw a red light glow in a ceiling panel above the mainframe.Maybe he should stay and see. "What's the matter?" Soren Cape said. God, it's so hot.thought D'Agosta.How can these people stand it? "What does this error code mean?"

"I don't know. Check it out." "Where to check?" "The manual, idiot! It's on the back of your terminal. Alright, I've got it." Soren Cape flipped through the manual: "2291, 2291... found. Overheating alarm. My God, the computer is overheating. Call the maintenance personnel up immediately." D'Agosta shrugged. It didn't take a rocket scientist to guess that the bang bang they heard might be a faulty air conditioning compressor.It was at least ninety degrees in the room.As he left along the hallway, two maintenance workers hurried up from the opposite direction, brushing past him. Like most supercomputers these days, the museum's MP3 is more heat-resistant than the "mainframes" of a decade or two ago.Its silicon brain, unlike ancient vacuum tubes and transistors, can operate at higher temperatures than recommended for longer periods of time without hardware damage or data loss.However, the hardwiring of the museum's security system was installed by a third-party company and did not follow the computer manufacturer's operating specifications.When the temperature in the computer room reached ninety-four degrees, the ROM chip controlling the automatic disaster control system exceeded the tolerance range.Ninety seconds later, the system is about to crash. Waters stood in the corner, scanning the room.The maintenance man had left an hour ago and the room was nicely chilled.Everything was back to normal, he could only hear the hum of the computer and the thousands of zombies typing on the keyboard.He glanced idly at the screen of an unused terminal and saw a message flashing. It's no easier to understand than a ghost painting.No matter what is said, can't it be in a language that everyone can understand?He hates computers.He couldn't figure out what use a computer could do to him, and he missed the last letter every time he typed his name.He especially hates those nerds and nerds who tinker with computers.If something goes wrong, let them take care of it themselves.

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