"Window open," she whispered. "1.3 seconds left."
"You used the old one. I fixed that bug three days ago. You just woke up my console. And now I know where you live. – MeneerBeer"
She cared about the kernel.
She packed it into a Faraday bag, then into a nondescript lunchbox. She’d drop it into a molten metal recycler on her way to the rendezvous. The job was done.
It shouldn’t have been possible.