The buzz around the room was all about Michael Jackson's new dance performance last night on the NBC Motown 25 Special as he sang his new hit Billie Jean. No one can seem to figure out how he did it. Several try to recreate the move, but fail miserably to hoards of laughter.
The new German hit song 99 Luftballons was playing in the background on the Ghetto Blaster perched on the window sill overlooking the vast parking lot below. As the song came to an end, a monotone alarm pierced the room from the vicinity of the big clock mounted by the door. The cassette was quickly shut off by the closest set of hands.
Mr. Northway called the group to order as people took their seats, "Finals are just around the corner! It's a lab day, so let's get to work and I need the results of subroutine exercise number 407 by the end of the period."
A collective sigh was muffled by the whir of 28 cooling fans and soon mechanical keys started clicking and clacking in verbal silence.
I tried to focus on the screen when my buddy Westley walks up and hands me a floppy. "You've got to see this. There's a hidden treasure out there and the location is on this. Just run 'cash' and you'll see. Do you have some maps? Maybe we can figure out where it is this weekend."
Mr. Northway cleared his throat loudly. Westley continued back to his station and I looked intently at the screen as if I were calculating my next line.
About 5 minutes later, Mr. Northway was occupied with questions from another, so I slipped that unlabeled Verbatim floppy into the drive, closed the door and typed CATALOG...
Amid a typical line-up of Beagle Bros stuff was a file named CACHE. Westley had played tricks on me before, so I knew better than to just run it straight out. Let's take a look at the file first, so I type LOAD CACHE and the Disk II burps and skips to life sounding like an out-of-balance disk sander working on a sheet of plywood.
In less than 20 seconds the 4 kilobytes of data was loaded to RAM. I type LIST and the screen fills with lines and lines of text scrolling off the top. A little too much to sort through on screen, so I turn on the Dot Matrix beside me and type PR#1 and then LIST. The printer hammers away for a couple minutes as the paper feeds from the box on the floor. Once the printer finally falls silent, I reach over and tear off the protruding sheet. Scanning over the lines, it appears to be simple code with no ominous PEEKS or POKES at all. Just as I was about to type RUN, Mr. Northway starts walking this way, so I quickly swap floppies and tuck the paper into my Pee Chee portfolio so I can get back to the assignment. This treasure will have to wait until later.
Perhaps you can sort out the location?
Vs gur uneqjner vfa'g ernqvyl ninvynoyr gb lbh, whfg gel n serr rzhyngbe. Gubhtu, bapr lbh haqrefgnaq gur ynathntr, bar pbhyq cebonoyl jbex bhg gur fbyhgvba jvgu cra, cncre, naq n pnyphyngbe.
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