My Personal Computer

              I  had heard of the virus, almost everyone had. The notices weren’t exactly subtle, they streamed across the sides of every sky-scraper and the windshield of every CommuteCar, causing everyone’s InterF.A.C.E system to flicker with a faint red glow. On the whole viruses were rare, they were considered a defunct worry of generations past. No virus had ever touched the P.C. version we had been successfully using for the past 20 years.

         That all changed two months ago when GenEx Mobile issued the official press release that would wreck so many lives. A new virus had been discovered and was now spreading rampantly through the world population of Personal Computers. The news was grim: the virus; officially called Fatal Exception X, (and given the street name Virtual Ebola after the deadly human virus which had nearly destroyed New York several decades ago) had started in a few isolated cases but was now spreading exponentially after infiltrating the GenEx Main-Link system which all P.C.s used to upgrade. The virus caused total systems failure in a reported 90% of all cases.
         
         GenEx blamed unscrupulous Cyber Physicians working in black market mods for introducing the devastating virus in its initial form. What these PC Doctors didn’t take into account was the way the virus would mutate.

         The days when P.C.s were inanimate were ancient history, and having the perfect PC was more important than any human relationship, in fact, serious human relationships were something to be frowned upon, only common in the cruder classes that now lived below ground. Families in the upper classes usually consisted of a parent and their clone who carried on the family name.
         
         All of the sub-routines and programming in our P.C.s were perfectly designed to intuit what their human counterpart most wanted or needed, emotionally and physically. Not to mention the fact that they could store an almost unending amount of data and were constantly learning and evolving through their experiences. Thanks to photo and sensual realistic hologram algorithms and silicon mods, PC life-owners could have a companion who never argued (unless desired), had perfect listening and recall skills, could sleep, but never hungered, and who felt and looked in all ways perfectly human.

         All P.C. programming ran on organic coding structures and to a large extent evolved and advanced very well without outside help. This is where the virus hit, weaving its way through the organic code strands of our beloved P.C.s, replicating and evolving as it went, much like the human viruses of years past.

         I was CEO of DeltaPort Data Securities,  a sub-division of GenEx Mobile. Life was great at the top floor suite of Delta Towers, the place where I both lived and worked. DeltaPort had it’s own Link-Up which was separate from the GenEx Main-Link. This was done partially for greater security, but mainly for our convenience, as updates to the Main-Link were tedious. Our Link-Up allowed company P.C.s to stay current while only rarely doing a Main-Link update.  This simple practice saved virtually all of our PC companions from the virulent Fatal Exception X.

         At DeltaPort a P.C. loss was something that might happen to worker number 679 on Accounting floor 5C, it was nothing for a C.E.O. to fret over. I merely asked Owen, my P.C. for the last 15 years, to use our own personal Link-Up until GenEx gave the all clear on their systems.
         He was, of course anxious to see me happy, and stayed away from the Main-Link for a few extra days, despite the fact that I knew he enjoyed his usual weekly updates. He approached this update with more than a little trepidation since he would soon learn the true extent of the damage caused by the virus. Who might he never communicate with again? What kindred system might have made its last Link?
         I wanted to bolster his mood before he linked, so I had gotten him a cutting-edge skin algorithm and some new sub-routines. This made him exceedingly happy and I left him to link in peace.
         When he came back later than expected, I didn’t immediately worry. The odd new freckle, or the hair out of place would have gone unnoticed by anyone who didn’t know him well, and I assumed it was just something to do with the new programming I had given him, but I eventually realized something was odd about his speech patterns too. Then he began speaking in random languages.
         
         I was horrified, and immediately made him lay down while I gave him the cure for the virus. This seemed to do the trick and he reverted to sleep mode, but when I checked on him an hour later he couldn’t get up or run his normal functions. I told him to hang on, that it would be okay. I called in my best Cyber Physician and coder. We tried everything to no avail. Owen died two days later. 
         
         I immediately got a message on my InterF.A.C.E.  I had been relieved of my position as C.E.O, it didn’t look good for a data securities exec to lose her P.C. to a virus. Shortly after that, I got notice that I would be expected to leave before the day was out and never come back to DeltaPort. 
         
         I took my small severance check and bought a ground floor apartment across town. It turned out some P.C.s carrying an earlier form of the virus had survived unnoticed while no one was linking, when GenEx gave the all clear these carriers spread the virus anew. This one mistake had me blacklisted, knocked down to the lowest middle class. I knew that I would never again be able to afford a P.C., and I didn’t want one. I had loved Owen and he could never be replaced.
My new neighbors are all human and, though odd at first, I have found solace in getting to know them. Who knows maybe one day I will start my own family.