As the rain pattered fitfully against the window of my den, my eyes told me I had interacted enough for one evening. The clock insisted the time was after midnight and Sunday already, although I had been unaware of the passing hours. I gave my head a shake and sampled the coffee brought in by Dee. She had just returned home, having spent the evening with a friend.
  Sipping the coffee, one of those decaffeinated brands by the taste of it, I reflected on the excellent service I had received from my computer supplier. On finally accepting that I needed to replace my ancient machine, I wanted only the best. I must come across as a somewhat sceptical sort to a salesperson, this because I am myself a retailer – a jeweller by trade. After visiting a few high street stores and receiving scripted advice, I went along to a computers-for-business exhibition held at a motel on the outskirts of town. There I met Harry.
  He struck up a casual conversation as I was trying my uncertain hand at a top of the range system. At first I thought he was one of the team responsible for the show, especially when he clipped a name tag to his tie. Within minutes he was showing me what the machine could do. Seeing another demonstrator approach, Harry deftly offered to buy me a drink at the bar. Intrigued by his manner and impressed by his evident knowledge of personal computers, I agreed. Harry Vesey told me he worked for himself. He openly admitted that since he could not afford to organise a demonstration evening of his own he simply invited himself to other people's and sold from there. We both laughed. The package I had been looking at, Harry advised, was ideal for my purposes.
  During our second round of drinks Harry suggested I should take some guidance if I was to get the best out of my investment. Not only could he supply the hardware at a generous discount he would, as a bonus, provide some home tuition.
  “How can you offer both a discount and one-to-one instruction?” I asked him.
  “Because I want you to be a satisfied customer,” he replied. “By pleasing retailers like yourself I get free advertising. In your line of work, you see many different customers daily, and some of these customers will also be looking for a computer. You mention my name – et voilà!” A boyish grin spread over Harry's face. His explanation seemed plausible enough to me, and anyway I had decided I liked the man. I completed an order form while he bought a refill.

Harry was true to his word about the tuition. Calling round one evening, he helped me set up the business software – accounts and stock control. Another evening followed, to apply the finishing touches. He said the business side would look after itself from then on but suggested I should relax more, maybe play some games. He had brought a selection with him for me to sample – no obligation. After he had gone, I tried one. it was very good. I suppose I was hooked there and then.
  Dee did not seem to mind my new obsession. She found things to do and left me to it. My only misgiving arose from the fact that it was now December, the busy season, and I knew I should to be concentrating more on ‘downstairs’. I inherited the jeweller's shop and the flat above from my uncle after having worked for him since leaving school. It had an established trading name in a good position. The games let me unwind after a day behind the counter.

Earlier in the week, I had driven to another town to collect some watches from a wholesaler who was having problems with delivery. Next to the warehouse stood a unit selling computer software and, as I had spend two hours on the motorway in freezing rain, I felt a quick browse before setting off for home was forgivable. A game on a cluttered shelf of low price clearance bargains caught my eye because of its title: Diamonds are for… I glanced over the cover blurb and bought it purely on impulse.
  Actually, I completely forgot about the purchase until a query on a customer's ring led to a frantic search for the alterations note. Hunting through the glove compartment of my car I found the game and took it upstairs, to be given a go later. Now, as I sipped Dee's awful coffee, I slipped the disc into the drive. The rather dated graphics appearing on the screen promised a true-to-life chance of being a baddy. Plan your very own jeweller's raid, it announced. A motif informed that the game was the product of HVC Realware. I duly entered the required information concerning the type of place I wished to raid. Being tired I simply keyed in the details of my own business, then sat back and played.
  As the game proceeded I experienced an attack of déjà vu - paramnesia, I believe it's called. I had the sensation that I had played the game before. Ridiculous; the result of too long in front of the screen, I told myself. Then I became distinctly uncomfortable. Suddenly I felt exhausted. My eyelids grew heavy and my breathing was laboured. Somewhere within my intestines an oxyacetylene torch began to cut away. Everything was at an exaggerated distance but at the same time seemed larger. This was something more than a late night after a long day. I tried to play on. The cutter was now working its way up my body, and I knew if I tried to stand I would collapse. The screen flashed another prompt, though I could barely focus on the options text.
  Then a crystal-clear image leapt out of the increasing darkness of my brain. The shock of it provided me with a few extra moments of meagre strength. I had to write a message, even with arms of lead and a telegraph pole for a pen. Write before the lights went out.

*  *  *  *  *

Dee cautiously returned to the den half an hour after she had brought the coffee. Quietly, she approached the desk where her husband lay slumped over his keyboard, and felt for a pulse. Nothing. Good, the poison had had its effect. In fact the whole scheme had worked beautifully right from the start, as Harry said it would.
  Harry certainly knew his stuff - and he knew how to treat a girl. The charm behind that boyish grin. A tingle of nervous excitement passed through her. Tomorrow, he would be seeing a man who had promised a good price for the contents of the jeweller's shop - and then, zoom! Out of the country, lost in the Christmas holiday rush. New Year and a new life in the sunshine.
  A lifelong habit of always switching off electrical equipment made her lean over the computer. On the desk she spotted an almost unreadable message written with a felt-tip pen. Dee press enter. Obviously she had not appreciated the extend of the hold these games could have. All the same, perhaps she owed her husband this much. And anyhow, what was there to lose?
  The screen was displaying a repeated flashing sequence. Make the right decisions and come away with a fortune, the screen tempted. How futile, she thought impatiently, as she read the dancing text. But one wrong move and you’re dead!
  She poked the key marked Enter. The result was a summary of play so far. Questions and their responses scrolled down the screen under a heading Choose your MO.

Q:  direct break-in?
R:  no, premises occupied
CORRECT DECISION

Q:  conspire with staff?
R:  no, business run by owner
CORRECT DECISION

Q:  conspire with owner for insurance?
R:  no, owner too honest
CORRECT DECISION

Then the next question.

Q:  access through owner's wife?
R:  yes, bored and flirtatious
CORRECT DECISION

Dee's eyes narrowed as the text continued. Befriend the owner; gain his confidence; invent a distraction. Befriend the owner’s wife; make her an accomplice; persuade her to eliminate the owner. All marked CORRECT DECISION. A flood of annoying graphics followed. She felt like hitting the monitor to hurry the program along.
  A fresh question appeared on the screen. Dee caught her breath.

Q:  dispose of accomplice after raid?

After staring at the screen and its insistent prompt for several seconds, she gingerly clicked the NO button. There was a short delay before the stark reply:

INCORRECT DECISION - LOSE GAME

An accompanying panel explained that the end score showed a high level of reasoning but an insufficient criminal mentality. Dee, though, did not need an explanation.

*  *  *  *  *

The sun was warm, the Bacardi cool. The hotel was every bit as good as the brochure depicted. She decided she rather liked being alone. During the day it was nice to laze around near the swimming pool, or on the beach. There were always plenty of young men falling over themselves to take care of the nights. Ah, the luxury! Momentarily she recalled the look of astonishment and sheer disbelief on Harry's face as the poison in his celebratory drink took hold. Dee wondered what the winter weather was like back home. Though not for very long.

Diamonds are for... first appeared in Practical Computing January 1983, (Vol 6, No  1).
Adapted for online publication June 2005. Code validated for HTML 4.01 Transitional.
www.urbanrim.eu – please mention this source in any reproduction.

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