maskormenace | 💣 001

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💣 001 | audio

[There's the sound of fumbling and a little bit of unintelligible muttering before any real words are spoken - the communicator isn't hard to figure out, but it still takes some practice to get the hang of.]

-- this button here, and then-- oh, there we go. Have I got it? Hello.

[Alfie's voice is deep and rumbly, and very Cockney. He switches on the video next. It's zoomed in too close on him to give any real clues to his surroundings - there's just the back of a couch and a blank wall visible behind him - but his clothes are clearly old-fashioned.]

Fucking fantastic, these things. Looking at your little images on the screen, it's like you're really there. Yeah, wonderful picture quality. I'm very impressed. But I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, should I - bigger and bolder seems like something of a trend here. I discovered one of your supermarkets earlier this morning. Fucking hell, the size of that place. Entire aisles set aside for nothing but ketchup; for ice cream. Hats off to the future, eh?

[And since he's actually wearing a top hat, he goes ahead and tips it.

But despite his conversational tone, his eyes are deadly serious. He narrows them a little, as he peers closer at the screen. He seems calm and affable, sure - but if you look behind that front, it's clear that he is very much not happy with how his day is going.]

Right. How many people am I speaking to, right now? Is it just those who've been brought here like me, or do I also have the pleasure of the army's company?

[Because he would like to have words.]

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[ Kitty's voice isn't quite full Cockney, but it's within shouting distance - she grew up in a shitty part of South London, but her parents had thought themselves upwardly mobile. So not quite like him, but she sounds like a neighborhood girl. ]

Oh, the army doesn't listen to this. Or - well. They pretend they don't.

[In a sea of unfamiliarity, her accent is honestly a very welcome sound.]

They keep up appearances, eh? I'll say hello to them anyway. Hello!

[ That rather-whimsical bit of defiance makes her giggle. Still - ]

There are ways around being listened in on. If you're interested.

Are they smart things to talk about here, out in the open?

[ Cheerfully: ]

No they are not.

Mm, yeah, thought so.

But I am interested.

Well, then. I suppose we ought to meet up for a bit of tea.

[Having meetings with teenage girls is not typical for him - but nothing he's done today is typical for him, so it's easy to give the answer that he does.]

Yeah, all right. You know the area better, I expect; name the place and I'll name the time.

The Lucky Cat Cafe in Heropa.

Today, at seven in the evening.

Brilliant. You'll let me buy, right?

That wouldn't be very sporting of me.

[He's not entirely a gentleman gangster, but he has his moments.]

One of the things about the future is that girls buy their own drinks. Especially when they've been here a long time and have got a lot of money.

Mm. All right. We'll each buy our own then, shall we?

Another thing about the future - hosts buy drinks for guests. So I'm politeness-bound to buy for you. You really mustn't protest. It'd be absolutely unthinkable for my honour if I let you buy your own tea.

We'll discuss it when I get there, yeah? Face to face.

[But he sounds a little amused, so good job, Kitty.]

Yeah, all right. See you there. I'll have a bluebird necklace on.

And I'll be in a hat.

[Plus she's seen his face on the video. He shouldn't be hard to find.

He navigates his way through the porter and finds the cafe, arriving a few minutes early. Kitty will find him seated at an out-of-the-way corner table, squinting at a menu with a little pair of gold pince-nez glasses held up to his nose. His clothes look pretty working class, but he's also wearing a few large, flat-faced rings, and two braided brass bracelets around one wrist. The edge of a black felt yarmulke can also be seen peeking out from under his hat.]

[ Kitty, meanwhile, looks like a nice girl. She blends in with her surroundings pretty nicely - she dresses like a local, after all, which makes her a little hard to spot. So it's good he got there first: she sees him right away, slips in the table across from him. Her eyes crinkle in greeting. ]

Hullo. Mr Solomons, right?

[He looks up from the menu.]

Bluebird necklace.

I didn't catch your name.

[ She hooks a finger around it to lift and display it, and introduces herself: ]

Kitty Jones. Nice to meet you.

Yeah. Alfie Solomons. Shall we get down to business?

Let's.

[ She reaches into her purse and pulls out her communicator. ]

Right, so. There are some things you need to know about this. First, it's absolutely brilliant. Absolutely wonderful. It can hook you up to the network, to the internet - places where you can get information in a moment's time. But you also can't trust it.

[ She's tapping and typing as she speaks. ]

Someone who's skilled - and there are lots of people who are skilled - can break into the communicator from hundreds or thousands of miles away. You can't think of it like a locked file cabinet, or a hidden ledger. Anything that's hooked up to the network is potentially vulnerable.

[That is definitely useful - and not something he would have assumed to be true. He's a bit far behind the idea of hacking.]

Go on.

Right, so. All of that said, there are ways to keep things safe. Never completely, but to greater or lesser extents. One is to use the mirror network.

[ Tap tap tap, and she brings it up for display. ]

This is a network that's closed only to imPorts. The government can't access it, the media can't, the public can't. So that's useful.

[ She closes out of that. ]

Another way is by filtering your posts. This makes it so that what you write, or say, is only visible to the people you want it to be visible to. It's not really safe against good hackers, but it keeps the average person out.

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