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learned. He’d worked for a number of Silicon Valley companies and invariably had gotten glowing reports on his programming skills—at least until he was fired for missing work or falling asleep on the job because he’d been up all night hacking. He’dalso written a lot of brilliant freeware and shareware—software programs given away to anyone who wants them—and had lectured at conferences about new developments in computer programming languages and security.
    Then Anderson did a double take and gave a surprised laugh. He was looking at a reprint of an article that Wyatt Gillette had written for On-Line magazine several years ago. The article was well known and Anderson recalled reading it when it first came out but had paid no attention to who the author was. The title was “Life in the Blue Nowhere.” Its theme was that computers are the first technological invention in history that affect every aspect of human life, from psychology to entertainment to intelligence to material comfort to evil, and that, because of this, humans and machines will continue to grow closer together. There are many benefits to this but also many dangers. The phrase “Blue Nowhere,” which was replacing the term “cyberspace,” meant the world of computers, or, as it was also called, the Machine World. In Gillette’s coined phrase, “Blue” referred to the electricity that made computers work. “Nowhere” meant that it was an intangible place.
    Andy Anderson also found some photocopies of documents from Gillette’s most recent trial. He saw dozens of letters that had been sent to the judge, requesting leniency in sentencing. The hacker’s mother had passed away—an unexpected heart attack when the woman was in her fifties—but it sounded like the young man and his father had an enviable relationship. Gillette’s father, an American engineer working in Saudi Arabia, had e-mailed several heartfelt pleas to the judge for a reduced sentence. The hacker’s brother, Rick, a government employee in Montana, had come to his sibling’s aid with several faxed letters to the court, also urging leniency. Rick Gillette even touchingly suggested that his brother could come live with him and his wife “in a rugged and pristine mountain setting,” as if clean air and physical labor could cure the hacker of his criminal ways.
    Anderson was touched by this but surprised as well; most of the hackers that Anderson had arrested came from dysfunctional families.
    He closed the file and handed it to Bishop, who read through it absently,seemingly bewildered by the technical references to machines. The detective muttered, “The Blue Nowhere?” A moment later he gave up and passed the folder to his partner.
    “What’s the timetable for release?” Shelton asked, flipping through the file.
    Anderson replied, “We’ve got the paperwork waiting at the courthouse now. As soon as we can get a federal magistrate to sign it Gillette’s ours.”
    “I’m just giving you fair warning,” the warden said ominously. He nodded at the homemade computer. “If you want to go ahead with a release, be my guest. Only you gotta pretend he’s a junkie who’s been off the needle for two years.”
    Shelton said, “I think we ought to call the FBI. We could use some feds anyway on this one. And there’d be more bodies to keep an eye on him.”
    But Anderson shook his head. “If we tell them then the DoD’ll hear about it and have a stroke about us releasing the man who cracked their Standard 12. Gillette’ll be back inside in a half hour. No, we’ve got to keep it quiet. The release order’ll be under a John Doe.”
    Anderson looked toward Bishop, caught in the act of checking out his silent cell phone once again. “What do you think, Frank?”
    The lean detective tucked in his shirt again and finally put together several complete sentences. “Well, sir, I think we should get him out and the sooner the better. That killer probably isn’t sitting