The second video began to apply that kind of analysis to various Parasol products, beginning with the photo-sharing app that had made Zotovic his first fortune. “Bitstreamer 9000” claimed to have discovered that many of the filtering effects that users could apply to their uploaded photos altered the images in more ways than were immediately obvious. And he claimed, further, that what appeared at first glance to be nothing more than “noise,” like the visual equivalent of static, in fact contained encoded data that was effectively hidden from the user. He showed a few examples, with lots of red circles and arrows and lines indicating where on the images he felt that this data was hidden, but Patrick wasn’t exactly convinced.
The next video in the playlist began with the suggestion that this additional encoded data, while not noticeable to the user, might be exerting some kind of subliminal effect. Even if people couldn’t consciously perceive what was hidden in the image, some part of their brain might be picking up on it. The analogy of sounds outside the range of human hearing being sometimes perceived as a kind of pressure on the ear drum or other disquieting effects made sense to Patrick, even if he wasn’t quite prepared to accept the premise.
But when the next video opened with the assertion that the true purpose of the encoded data was for mind control, and that Parasol was secretly brainwashing the users of their software products to engender brand loyalty, Patrick couldn’t help but roll his eyes.
The rest of the videos in the playlist veered ever deeper into the realms of conspiracy theories, arguing that Zotovic was secretly part of the Reptilian Illuminati, lizard people who disguised themselves as human and secretly controlled all of the major governments and financial institutions of the world, and that Zotovic had been instrumental in engineering the global warming that would render the planet Earth more suitable for a full-scale invasion by his fellow lizard people from outer space, and on and on and on.
Cursing under his breath, Patrick slapped the lip of the laptop shut, berating himself for devoting so much of his time to watching what were clearly the ravings of a deranged lunatic.
Glancing at his phone, he saw that there was only a little more than an hour left until sunset. Grabbing his laptop and his quilted jacket, he started for the door. But he stopped short as a thought struck him, and walked over to where the file boxes were stacked. He was alone in the room, but couldn’t help glancing around nervously to make sure no one was watching as he reached inside one of the boxes, and quickly slipped his closed hand into his pocket. Then he turned off the lights and locked the door of the community room behind him. He had just enough time to stop by the grocery store on the way home to pick up supplies and be safely back in his neighborhood before the Ridden were free to roam the city streets.
At least they didn’t have to worry about an invasion of lizard people from outer space.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Back at the FBI’s Resident Agency, Izzie was making notes on the legal pad when her phone chimed in her coat pocket, indicating a new message. She pulled it out and tapped the power button. The text was from Daphne.
“DOING OKAY?”
Izzie tapped out a quick response: “GREAT. FINISHING UP SOME RESEARCH AT THE R.A., SHOULD BE READY TO ROLL SOON. YOU?”
She watched the ellipsis pulse in a text bubble on the screen as Daphne composed her response on the other end.
“COOL. I’M HEADING THERE SHORTLY. I’M BRINGING YOU SOME CLOTHES I THINK WOULD LOOK GREAT ON YOU. ;)”
Izzie rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help but smile. She texted back an emoji of a smiley face with its tongue sticking out, then returned the phone to her pocket.
She stacked the journals, academic paper, and legal pad on top of the closed laptop, then bent down under the desk to unplug the laptop’s adapter cord. Then she picked up the carrying case that the laptop had been in when it was issued to her, and shoved the whole stack inside. She was zipping it shut when she heard footsteps behind her.
“Agent Lefevre, this is a surprise.”
She turned, and saw Senior Resident Agent Manuel Gutierrez standing in the doorway. He was dressed casually, in a plain t-shirt, jogging pants, and running shoes. It was a stark contrast to the dark, somber suit and tie that he’d worn every other time that she’d seen him. He had a coat draped over one arm, and under his other arm was tucked a vinyl case that appeared to contain a tennis racket.
“Agent Gutierrez,” Izzie managed, nodding in greeting. “I didn’t think you were coming in today.”
He hung his coat on a hook by the door, and held up the vinyl case.
“Had a squash game with the Deputy Mayor at the athletic center,” he explained. “Figured I’d drop by and catch up on some correspondence.”
“Did you win?” Izzie was trying to keep her tone light, but wasn’t sure she was succeeding.
“Not this time.” The Senior Resident Agent shrugged. “I find it helps to let the deputy win a few, from time to time. Keeps him amenable.”
He set the racket case down on an empty desk.
“The Mayor’s office was keen to hear any updates about your investigation. I told them that so far you hadn’t turned up anything of substance.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Is that an accurate assessment, would you say?”
“Do you mean,” Izzie replied, unable to keep a somewhat defensive, even combative tone out of her voice, “have I found anything that would indicate that the books on the Fuller case need to be reopened?”
Agent Gutierrez narrowed his eyes, his jaw tight. “I know I don’t need to remind you that the local authorities would just
