"aggressive, glitch" : MAYnia day 4

This is part of the #MAYnia challenge run by the Hive account@freewritehouse. Today I have written 1821 words. The first 200 or so were written using the following prompts
Today's Maynia prompt: aggressive
@freewritehouse/maynia-day-four
The Daily Freewrite prompt: glitch
@mariannewest/day-926-5-minute-freewrite-sunday-prompt-glitch

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_{_{If you have nothing better to do you can read my previous “chapters”: _{One, Two, [Three(@felt.buzz/maynia-day-3-cucumber-wine)}}}
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Alba stared at the screen. Something was wrong. The numbers were out of sequence. And they kept moving around on the screen. Alba wasn't a computer expert - not like Trempter who was sitting opposite her - but she knew they shouldn't be doing that.

"Trempy?" she said, sticking her head around the screen. Trempter looked up, blinked for a moment and then seemed to see her. She smiled.

"What is it, Alba?"

"I seem to have some kind of... glitch. My computer is... sorry, not sure what the technical term for it is... going haywire?" Trempter's smile broadened.

"Hold on," she said. "Let me just finish this line of code, and I'll take a look." She pounded at her keyboard for a couple more minutes. Frowned and then stood up, and strode around to stand behind Alba. Trempter leaned over to take a better look, and some of her hair flopped down, tickling Alba's cheek.

Alba tried not to inhale the warm scent of Trempter’s hair. It smelled wonderfully of coconut and honey.

"Hmmm," Trempter said. “Yes. I think you have diagnosed this correctly. You have a glitch and your computer is indeed going haywire.” She leaned in further and, one arm either side of Alba’s head began to jab, two-fingered, at the keyboard.

Alba tried not to think about Trempter’s two perfectly formed breasts she could feel pressed into the back of her head.

“I think you’ve got a virus,” Trempter said, eventually, standing up. “Quite an aggressive one, too. You should leave this alone. I have a little box of tricks I can play with.”

Alba tried not to think about playing with Trempter’s little box of tricks.

“It will be fine, Alba. Don’t worry.”

“Okay,” Alba said. Her voice sounded strange in her ears. Sort of husky and high pitched at the same time.

“Are you alright? You look a bit strange.”

“Just a bit hot,” Alba said. “Stressed. I really needed to run this analysis tonight.”

Trempter nodded. She was holding a USB key fob in her hand.

“Budge out of the way. I’ll see what I can do. Hopefully, I’ll get it sorted in an hour or so. You go to the cafeteria and get us both a coffee.”

Alba nodded. A bit of fresh air would do her good. Maybe she’d take the long way along the river bank. Take a look at the ducks. Ducks always made her feel better about herself. She grabbed her backpack from under the desk, checked to make sure her purse was in there and swung it onto her shoulder.

“Hey Alba!” Trempter called as Alba reached the door. Alba turned and looked into Trempter’s shining eyes. “How do you think this virus got on here? You haven’t been downloading porn, have you?”

“Ha ha ha,” Alba said, feeling the blush deepen. “Not on that computer.” She tried to wink in a casual manner, but she was pretty sure she just blinked.

“Okay, Alba.” Alba pushed the door open and was almost through it when Trempter shouted: “Hey! Sugar!”

“What?”

“Pick up plenty of sugar. I take like at least five sachets in a mug of coffee.”

The sun was shining and the university campus was deserted. Most people would be down the beach in weather like this. Instead of sitting in the computer lab trying to get the attention of someone who clearly wasn’t interested. Although, to be honest with herself, Alba hadn’t really made much effort to get Trempter’s attention. They had been sitting opposite each other for three hours and until the incident with the virus Alba hadn’t exchanged more than three words with Trempter.

She hadn’t even found out what Trempter’s first name was. She had called her “Trempy” and seemed to get away with it. Alba had never heard anyone call Trempter anything other than Trempter. She was a bit of an engima. A dark horse. A mysterious stranger.

There were two ways you could get to the cafeteria from the Turin Block. The quickest way was to cut across the quad, through Block A and across the carpark. That took about ten minutes if you walked fast. Alba usually did walk fast. It wasn’t a very nice route. There were usually people loafing about by the lockers in Block A. Block A was where all the fashion and arty people hung out. Alba knew it was probably all in her head but she felt judged when she walked by those people. She felt their eyes roving up and down her. She was convinced people were itching to tell her what she was doing wrong, how she could better make the most of herself. It was probably all in her head. But she would rather avoid it.

The river route added an extra five minutes on. Which, of course, could make all the difference between arriving back at Turin with a hot lovely coffee or handing Trempter a lukewarm cup of disappointment.

Alba decided that she would take the shorter route on the way back - risking the Eyes of Judgement. There was a cycle path that ran the length of the river. You could cycle from the the seafront all the way to London if you wanted to. One or two cyclists whizzed past her, tinging their irritating little bells as they did so, but there were fewer than normal.

There were fewer ducks on the river too, which was a shame. Alba didn’t really like ducks, she thought they were ridiculous quacking waddling birds. But seeing them always made herself feel better about herself - things could be worse, her aunt used to say when she took her for walks along this very path, you could be a duck.

She took a deep breath of the warm spring air, regretting it immediately as the air smelt of piss.

The cafeteria was busy, but the Drinks Only queue wasn’ too intimidating. She bought too large black coffees and picked up ten sachets of sugar, stuffing them in her bag before putting it onto her back.

The car park was full again. Alba wondered how people could afford cars. She had a room in a houseshare in town and walked up to the campus every day. She couldn’t afford the bus, not even with the student discount. She had bought a second-hand bike in her first semester and it was stolen in her second week. She had left it outside of the library for all of five minutes - without locking it of course - and when she came out there was no bike. Perhaps that was why she hated the bells on the bikes on the cycle path - they reminded her of what she once had and lost.

On the steps of Block A there were two groups of people sitting eating sandwiches and talking loudly. They all hushed as she passed them and she had the urge to stop, swivel around and shout, “WHAT!” But she didn’t. She kept walking, eyes straight ahead.

She marched across the quad and into Turin Block. Trempter looked up as she came into the room.

“That was quick,” she said. “Did you run, or fly?”

“I have long legs,” Alba said. “I walk fast.”

“Yes,” Trempter said. “I noticed.”

What? What did you notice? My long legs? Or that I walk fast?

Alba put the coffee down beside the workstation. You weren’t supposed to eat or drink in the computer labs. But everyone did it. She pulled off her bag and rummaged around. She managed to locate five of the ten sachets of sugar she had dumped in there.

“Thanks,” Trempter said, peering at the screen. She was frowning.

“How is it going?”

“Strangely,” Trempter said. “It’s going strangely. This is the weirdest thing I have ever seen. The good news is I don’t think it has corrupted your data. I’ve pulled that off and popped it onto this.” She waved a USB stick at Alba. “But I advise you not to put it into any machine you care about. Just in case. What are you trying to analyse, anyway?”

Alba took the USB stick and popped it in her pocket.

“I’m analysing paranormal activity,” she said, somewhat sheepishly. Most people who studied anything in the sciences thought what she was doing was a waste of time. And NOT REAL SCIENCE.

Trempter looked up at her.

“Interesting. Surprised you got the go-ahead to study that here.”

Alba looked away.

“Actually,” she said. “I haven’t. This is kind of a private study.”

Her bag started to vibrate and Trempter looked back at the screen while Alba searched within it for her phone.

It was her aunt.

“Hello Alba,” her aunt said. Her voice was quiet.

“Hi,” Alba said. “What’s up?” Her aunt rarely rang her. Alba would call every month or so, or if she had something to report - which was rare.

“Nothing to worry about,” her aunt said. Alba could hear the voice of her uncle in the background. “Howard, I’m fine. Stop fussing. Your uncle is a bit worried but-” there was a brief bit of static and then Alba heard her uncle’s voice, next.

“Alba. I’m worried about Mindy. She has had a bit of a funny turn and now she has it in her head she wants to come up and see you. Can you talk her out of it. I think she should rest. Even going down to the shed at the end of the garden is too far. God only knows what horrors she is cooking up down there.”

“You know full well it is just cucumber wine,” Alba heard her aunt say. “It will be delicious when it’s finished fermenting.”

“Can you talk sense to her?” her uncle said before passing the phone back to her aunt.

“I’m coming down, tomorrow, Alba. And if Howard won’t drive me, I’ll take the train. Are you free to meet up? I could do with some help.”

“Yes. Yes, of course.”

“Good. I’m sending you an email…” more talking in the background from Howard. “Okay, okay… Howard is sending you an email. Can you take a look at it? I’ll be there about nine in the morning. It’s not too early for you, is it, darling?”

“I’ll meet you at the station.”

“Howard says he’ll bring me. We’ll meet you at the cafe by the pier. It’s still there, isn’t it?”

“The Big Plate?”

“The what? No, it wasn’t called that last time I was here. But yes, that will do . We’ll meet you at The BIg Plate at nine.”

Trempter was looking at her when she hung up.

“Problems?”

“What? No. Just family. You know how it is.”

Trempter nodded.

“I’ve isolated and neutralised the virus. It’s not one I have come across before. Clever little bugger. Funny name.”

“Name?”

“The people who code viruses like to name them. This one goes by the name of Poppery.”