"You have email ..." Abigail said.

"Thanks," Kane answered absently, "I'll get to it as soon ... "He stopped, the unfinished feel of his wife's sentence finally registering. "What?" he asked.

"...from your mother."

So what, flashed through Kane's mind unarticulated. His eyes widened, then narrowed under a frown. "What's the joke?"

"Not mine," Abigail said, "bit off for my taste."

He believed her, but it left the question. Who?

"Look I gotta rush," Abigail said, "see you after work."

Kane replied automatically, already engrossed. His palm stuck to the mouse as he clicked [OPEN].


C:\KANE,

WHY DON'T YOU GET OFF YOUR BUM

AND GET A REAL JOB?

MUM.>

The message headers were missing. He rang his ISP's tech support and they confirmed it had come from the net. How? - they weren't exactly sure. The content certainly sounded like his mother. The use of 'bum' instead of 'arse' was typical and she had always been at him to get a real job 'Writing fairy stories is not fit work for a grown man'.

Curious, Kane clicked [REPLY]. His chuckle over the return address, mum~not@rest.com.au, was short lived. This was seriously sick. When he called tech support again they insisted the address did not exist. He sent the reply anyway, saying 'who is this?' He expected it to bounce. A message came straight back as if she was on-line in chat mode.


C:\YOUR MOTHER,

THE SOURCE OF ALL YOU ARE.>

He remembered. She'd brought him up alone and he'd still been living with her in his late thirties. Yet as a writer of short stories he had insufficient financial resources to move out. The sudden rise in his wherewithal when she died and he inherited had allowed him to woo Abigail. He glanced quickly over his shoulder, then tapped the delete key.

Each morning of the next week Kane turned on his computer with dread. The messages became increasingly accusatory. He no longer doubted their authenticity. His mother had found a way to haunt him. Eventually he stopped logging on. He still got email.


C:\I SAW WHAT YOU DID.
SHAME ON YOU.>

Kane felt cold sweat pop out on his forehead. He saw her ghosted image behind the text. A face screwed up with pain, holding her chest, reaching for her angina pills. In desperation he unplugged the modem and turned off the computer. The shockingly bright letters of his mother's assertion scrolled banner-like across the darkened screen.


C:\MY DEATH WASN'T AN ACCIDENT.>

"What does she mean?" Abigail asked.

Kane turned on his wife. "Don't you ever sneak up on me like that," he snarled, trying to cover the screen with his hands as more words flashed across it.


C:\YOU PUT MY PILLS OUT OF REACH.>

Exploding into a whirling rage, Kane hurled everything in reach against the study wall, all except the quietly blinking monitor. He was still screaming abuse at it as Abigail withdrew to call the police.