ExLibris: excluded from social networks, Page 4

  *****

  It all happened about a year ago, hardly more. In those days I divided all my free time between my friends and sitting in front of the computer, in most cases I combined those. I was very keen on modern technologies and wanted to understand how the symbiosis of soft and hard could function more efficiently. The acquired knowledge enabled me to move further and become something more than an ordinary user – so I became one of those who are usually referred to as “hackers”. I didn’t use my skills to gain material benefits – money were never involved. I was doing this for the sake of accepting and overcoming challenges, for the sake of accomplishing something impossible, for the sake of standing for my convictions. And I discovered a lot of like-minded people – so we formed a team and called it Skynet. We shared the same interests, and I really enjoyed spending time planning next hacking attacks. We organized a special locked chat room for that purpose on which we were protected by a variety of proxy servers and other security measures.

  All of us there had our identities hidden behind nicknames. My nickname on the chat room was “Connor”. The other members of the team called themselves Spidy79, Alexa, Eggplant and Mole. I considered them as my friends even though I didn’t even know their real names, except for one guy – Joshua Miller (aka Eggplant) who lived in New York, and that fact had played its role in bringing us to real-life meet. As for the others, Spidy79 was from somewhere in China, Alexa was from Chicago and Mole from Los Angeles. Sometimes while conversing about breaking the security system of a certain program or web page we were despite ourselves compelled to share some personal details about ourselves. I knew, for example, who in our team preferred fizzy drinks to coffee to keep his eyes open and who was twenty something years old, but still living in his mum’s basement.

  Using nicknames was a kind of safety precaution in our case, but it conferred on our communication that lost atmosphere of the “old-days” Internet” when absolutely all users operated under chosen names and one’s virtual identity was firmly independent from one’s real identity. In those times an administrator of a forum or a chat room who possessed the authority to ban any participants of that online community in real life could be an eleven-year-old boy who was several times younger than the other members of that discussion platform. I mean, on the old school Internet everybody was trying to prove their worth independently of their social status in real life.

  Nowadays, the abolition of anonymity, which was brought about by social networking sites and facilitated the coming-out of members on chat rooms and forums, prompted the merger of one’s virtual and real-life identities. Everybody could go and find you on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter and realise who you really are. And that information could also prove to be unexpectedly exhaustive (going as far as to include your food preferences, let alone the food preferences of your family members, and so forth).

  People’s choice of friends in the old-day Internet was based on some interest, and it was of absolutely no significance that all your virtual buddies lived in other cities and even their ages and social status didn’t matter. In modern times people who are friends on the Internet are the same people who are friends in real life. I mean, social networking sites simply transferred real people with whom you communicate in real life into the cyberspace, and they are usually your peers from social perspective – same age, same region, same school, college or job. And the old-day atmosphere of Internet communication survived only on numerous forums and chat rooms where people’s identities are still hidden under nicknames.

  Our chat room was one of them. Although each member of Skynet had an “official” identity on social networking accounts, it didn’t change my point. You know, as soon as I saw on my monitor screen “Connor is online”, I became a hacker, who was recognized by freaky hacker’s attacks. Hardly anybody on the chat room knew who Simon Parker really was, because they didn’t know about my Facebook profile, nor what I do in my free time, because they hadn’t seen my photos on Instagram, nor did they know my opinion about this and that, because they didn’t read my Twitter account. But they knew Connor who was very keen on hacking and that was as much as they needed for our communication, because they shared that passion of mine.

  Our actions were illegal and we were aware of it. And we had duly taken all necessary measures to protect ourselves. Moreover, we knew that as long as there was no money involved, there was no serious threat for us in it.

  All went its course, until one fine Saturday in July. I woke up at noon or even later that day, as I always did when I didn’t have to go anywhere in the morning. The daytime sleep was a kind of compensation for sleepless nights, what with my going to bed at 5 am after spending the night chatting.

  But, honestly speaking, I didn’t feel like I’d have enough rest. I didn’t want to get out of bed and was lying there, figuring out that in order to feel like a human being again, and not like a broken robot, I needed a shower and a cup of coffee. The drawn curtains hardly let any sunshine into the room. The only tiny gap between them through which rays of light dispersed the twilight inside evidenced that that was a very sunny day. That thin bright strip inspired me to make an effort and pull myself together.

  On my way to the bathroom I pushed the power button on the computer not wishing to waste a single second waiting for the operational system to load when I finally come back and install myself at the table. And by the time when I returned into the room, holding a cup of coffee, my favorite desktop wallpaper had already appeared on the monitor, meaning that my computer was waiting for me. I mean for the ordinary ‘me’ – I didn’t intend to hack anything, because that was what I had done on the previous night. I only wanted to check the news on Facebook, find out whether somebody had “liked” my photos, left a comment under them or sent me a message.

  Placing the cup near the keyboard, I perched myself on a comfortable rotating chair. The rapid movements of my fingers allowed me to enter my password on Facebook page within one second, even despite my obsession with long and complex combination of letters and numbers. I instantly saw a new message from Joshua, the only member of Skynet who was also my friend on Facebook. He was online at that moment too.

  “Hello, Simon!” was the text of that message. “What are your plans for today?”

  “Hi, Joshua!” I typed and sent the answer. “Is this a proposal?”

  “Of course, it is. Matter of fact, I have two proposals for you. The first is let’s hang out together and the second – we need to discuss something.”

  “My answer is: OK - to the first and “you gotta be a bit more specific” – to the second.”

  “This is not a place to speak about it.”

  I figured out that he was talking about hacking something, but it was very weird because we never spoke about it on social networking sites – that would be too dangerous. So I was confused and even thought that Joshua was either drunk or had been caught by the police. But he was my best friend and I really trusted him.

  “I don’t understand you. I think we should go to Bed,” I typed. “Bed” was our code word for the chat room, because we spent nights on end there, and it was just the place where we developed plans “to put to sleep” targets of our attacks.

  “I want to discuss it with you in person. So, at my place, at 4 – I am waiting for you.”

  “OK,” I typed the answer, but I was in no hurry to get there. I spent a few more hours browsing Facebook, looking through updates on my friends’ pages,”liking” this or that, sending and receiving messages. It was all so usual and so routine for me. Little did I know that social networking sites, as well as the Internet as such, would very soon be off-limits for me.

  When I was at last ready to go, I was far from being bothered by the question “What am I going to wear?” and quickly put on jeans and a T-shirt – my usual outfit in fact. I didn’t want to carry a bag, which meant that the pockets of my jeans were considerably bulged – what with my smartphone, iPod, some change and the keys inside. Th
e journey from Manhattan, where I lived, to Queens, where my friend lived, usually took about an hour. But I had my mp3 player with meand it contained gigabytes of my favorite music uploaded, which would have probably sufficed me for months and months of listening without interruption, so I wasn’t supposed to be bored.

  Once inside the elevator, I put on my ear-phones and from that moment on I plunged into the world of rhythms. As I stepped out of the building, I collided with a flock of pigeons who, frightened by my sudden appearance, scattered in different directions. I didn’t pay much attention to that at the time – there was nothing in the whole world except me and the music.

  The bus stop was a few blocks away. From there I could get to any part of Queens that I needed. Several minutes of waiting and I was on a bus, taking the empty seat near the window. The bus moved off, and a variety of panoramas of New York came and went before my eyes through the big glass window in rapid succession. But I was oblivious of them and only noticed the succession of songs which nobody on the bus was aware of except myself. Just as I expected, the travel time flew way too quickly.

  I got off the bus and found myself in a neighborhood that was totally different from the place where I lived – that is, on a long street of small private houses. They all looked just the same. But in spite of the absence of skyscrapers, this was still New York. Two minutes later I was facing the entrance door of a double storey building which was covered with white siding. Instead of pushing the door buzzer, I took out my smartphone and gave Joshua a call. I didn’t want to bother his mom with whom he lived.

  “Helloooo, Simon!”Joshua’s voice was shattering.

  “I am here. Let me in”.

  “OK!”

  A minute later the entrance door opened and my friend appeared, all smiling. That tall muscular guy was always in a fine mood and so relaxed that it felt like he was in a state of constant partying. Even when home with mother, he always acted as if he had never heard of rules. When he spoke, it was hard to understand whether he was serious or joking; when sitting on a chair, he necessarily leaned back on it and balancing, as if to explore the boundary of falling; when he landed on a couch, he instantly spread on it, widely placing his arms as if wishing to mark his territory. This laid-back manner conferred on him a special quality of confidence and charm.

  “Come in, bro!” said he hospitably, stretching his hand which I shook as soon as I entered the house.

  We went into the basement – the place where Joshua lived and which he referred to as “my castle”. It looked like an ordinary young bachelor’s den, and only three small rectangular windows squeezed in just under the ceiling reminded that this was the basement of the house after all. In addition to the typical stuff any room is supposed to contain – a bed, a chair, a table with a PC on it (sided with an oblong football), – slightly aside stood a refrigerator which, in Joshua case, was more of an attribute to certain independence than a device serving to preserve food’s freshness. There was virtually nothing inside except beer. Also, instead of a wardrobe he used metal racks, but that really seemed to be more of a designer’s ruse.

  “My home is your home!” the dude said, then sat on the bed and stretched his right hand indicating a chair for me. For some reason it stood not in front of the table, but near the door, right opposite the place where Joshua had landed. “Take a seat!”

  “What is it you want to talk about?” I asked as soon as I did as he proposed. I had been wondering about that since I read his puzzling message on Facebook.

  “Shan’t we start with some beer?!” Joshua took a quick look at the refrigerator standing near the table right under the central window.

  “No, thanks.”

  “Well, up to you, mate!” the guy shrugged his shoulders and opened the fridge, taking out a can of beer and instantly opening it so abruptly that it erupted with falling on the floor froth.“I don’t have milk.”

  “Maybe your mum does,” I conjectured.

  Joshua smiled and returned to his seat, holding the beer, taking a sip now and then.

  “So, I gotta fantastic idea how to make some cash!” A brief pause followed. Then he spoke again: “I could do it all by myself, but I am no greedy ass and I am ready to share it with you.”

  “Well, that sounds pretty suspicious, maybe you should tell me the details.” It was becoming obvious that Joshua, like any hacker at some point in his life, was facing amoral dilemma – either to use his skills for making money or to opt for keeping things simple.

  “In short, one dude found me, he represents a big company, that man…. And he is ready to pay a vast amount of bucks for a bit of help with receiving certain secret information out of the competing company’s system,” my friend gabbled away. “He is really dying to get that data.”

  “Now, mate, there is something I do not understand here!” I said, seeing that my guess proved to be a right one. “When did you begin to respond to such offers? I thought, we decided that money should not be involved in whatever Skynet do. Do you understand that doing things for money could ruin everything?”

  “I do, but this offer came from a very reliable person. I’ve done some checking on him. He has already ordered similar operations from other guys, and everything was fine as soon as the job was done,” Joshua said. “And it’s not going to involve Skynet, so it won’t affect the reputation of the team. It is about me and you only – two independent hackers, see!”

  “I am not talking about that!” I interrupted him.“The reliability of that dude, the reputation of Skynet – all that is of little importance. Since when did you begin to care about hacking for money?”

  “Come on!” Joshua got up.

  He made several steps in the direction of the table, leaving the can, – which, judging by the sound, still had some beer left – on it. Then Joshua took a ball from the table and instantly passed it onto me – I caught.

  “It doesn’t matter what we are doing this for, money or for the sake of idea. Hacking is illegal for whatever reason you do it, so if the attitude of the society to these things is the same, why should give a damn about it? And doing the former will allow us to get something more out of it than just the satisfaction of achievement.”

  “Yeah, you are right, man! We can make some cash that way,” I said and threw the ball almost directly into his hands. “But you are talking about the law, and what about principles? Don’t you think that the state and the society are not one and the same thing? Well, in my book there is a very big difference between hacking the web resource of some company’s market rivals in this company’s interests and doing stuff that you choose to do because of your convictions about social justice.”

  “Bro, I will tell you no lies,” Joshua again passed the ball to me. “I am twenty three, I haven’t gone to college and I am living in my mum’s basement. You know, I like my life, but all of it, you know, is not quite what I dreamt of years ago. I need money to finally become independent, and maybe this job is my chance to change everything – the point from which I could start it with a clean slate. There is a hundred thousand bucks at stake; that is very good money. And, honestly, all airs aside, I need your help. ”

  “And that is where you want to begin it all?” I said, getting up myself and passing the ball to him. “Sorry, man, but I don’t want to be mixed up in all this.”

  “So, you are not going to help me,” he muttered.

  “Bro, you don’t need my help” I said. “I have known you for a long time and I am pretty confident that you will find your place in the sun. But not in a way like this!”

  “You know, Simon,” Joshua said and, instead of passing the ball to me, put it back on the table, “It is all very nice your believing in me and all that, but I’ve decided to grow up.”

  “That’s just what I’m talking about. At least, give it a rethink.”

  I looked him in the eyes and understood that he had already made the decision. “Whether you will take my advice or not, keep me in the know. There
is no point in warning you that money always changes the game, I guess.”

  “OK, I’ll think about your advice. After all, screw it! We need to relax, let’s get out to some cool place!”

  “That’s my boy!” I smiled. “Where shall we go?”

  “There is one possible option,” Joshua said, turning to the computer, and moving the mouse to exit the sleeping mode. He then opened his Facebook page.

  “I’ve seen one dude from the block here, who’s inviting people to come over today; he’s promising a bunch of hot chicks and a swimming pool full of booze.”

  “Sounds good. But…do you know him?” I asked.

  “Well he is my friend on Facebook, which means that we are at least not 100% strangers,” he laughed. “Here we go… Oh, it’s really not far from here …party with Glutton!”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Glutton,” he repeated. “Sounds kind strange, I know, so let’s find out what it means.”

  “Right!”I smiled.

  Joshua took a six beer pack ring out of the fridge. One ring was already empty, because he had finished that one just a few minutes ago.

  “You seem to have said something about the swimming pool full of alcohol!” I smiled.

  “Maybe Glutton has already finished it all!” he laughed.

  We climbed upstairs to the ground floor of the house.

  “Mum, I’m off for a walk,” the guy yelled, coming up to the staircase, directing the efforts of his vocal chords somewhere to the second floor. “I will be late.”

  “OK!” I heard his mum’s voice coming from above. Don’t fuddle yourself then!”

  “And how about ‘Don’t forget to take out the garbage’?” I joked. “Or, have you cleaned your room?”

  “Screw you, Simon!” he pushed me out of the house.

  Ten minutes’ walk, during which time Joshua had done away with one more can of beer, and we spotted a giant inflatable man towering over the roofs of double storey houses. He was wearing a jeans overalls and holding a big doughnut.

  “Glutton!” we exclaimed almost in chorus. With a beacon like this it would have been impossible to fail to find the location where the party was held.

  Glutton had obviously been stolen from the roof of a snack bar where it had served as an advertising aid and moved onto the lawn of the house (he was tied to the towing hook of the car which was parked right there on the lawn), which was hosting the fun that day. And that huge figure was ideally fitted for being the symbol of that fun. Periodical fluctuation of that inflatable man downwards, upwards and in different directions evidenced from apart that arriving to the party guests were striving to took a picture of themselves with him. And each photographer tried to make something of an original photo at that.

  Seldom did the fat figure return to its natural in-free-air position. At one of such moments when myself and Joshua were forty feet away from the lawn, I addressed my friend: “Hey, how about a selfie with that dude behind?”

  “You are the boss!” Joshua acquiesced.

  We span around, turning our backs to the inflatable man, took out our smartphones and, with broad smiles across our faces, took pictures, with Glutton caught in the background of the shot.

  “I got nice photos,” my friend announced joyfully, shielding the screen of his smartphone with his palm to protect it from sun rays, staring at it intently.

  “Me too!” I echoed his statement, launching an Instagram application on my smartphone. “I am going to share it.”

  “I totally agree with you… under hashtag #Glutton,” Joshua smiled.

  “And that’s all? I’ll upload my photos under hashtags #Glutton, #party, #Queens, #symbol, #meet at the entrance … and add the location,” I said, my fingers moving along the screen of my smartphone. “Maybe some friends of mine are not far from here now, I’ll let them know that I am here.”

  We came to the entrance door which, quite surprisingly, proved to be locked, in spite of the crowd partying on the lawn, and Joshua touched the bell. A minute later the door swung open and a guy wearing an oversized red T-shirt and holding a plastic cup of the same colour appeared in the doorway. He sized us up with a slow and inspective gaze and adjusted the bandana on his neck, now looking slightly confused. It was obvious that he didn’t recognise us and as far as he was the owner of the house, which meant also a party host, it was in his power to decide whether somebody could get in or not. At that moment I was ready to take back my words about friends in real life being the same as friends on Facebook.

  “Helloooo, dude!” Joshua was clearly uncomfortable with the slow reaction of the guy and decided to jog his memory a bit – he spread his arms with a jolly “Here I am!” The combination of this address and gesture instantly brought the result.

  “Oh, I didn’t recognize you,” the guy roared with laughter. “Come in!”

  “Here is to introductions,” Joshua said, entering the house and exchanging handshakes with the host. “This is Simon, my buddy!”

  I went in right after him.

  “Well, Hi, Simon!” the owner of the house looked at me and stretched his hand. “I’m Mike”.

  “Yeah, I know!” I shook it.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever met you before,” Mike blinked slightly and added in a manner indicating that the answer was somehow of crucial importance, “Aren’t you local?”

  “He is local, man!”Joshua interrupted. “Listen, bro, where can I find a bathroom here, because I downed a beer several minutes ago.”

  “I see!” Mike gestured towards the remaining four cans of beer.

  “Oh, yeah, that’s my contribution!” Joshua handed them to the host. “But now my bladder is ready to blow up from pressure!? You don’t need a thing like that happen in your house, do you?” My friend suddenly burst into laughter, showing that he was just joking, then stopped abruptly and supplied suddenly appeared severity on his face with the comment “Nobody needs it!”

  “Yeah!” Mike moved my friend several feet away to a spot from which a better view of the house opened and gestured in the direction Joshua needed: “See that door?”

  In the meantime, I looked around. The entrance to the rooms where I was standing was in the middle of a big hall filled with twenty something people. Practically all of those were concentrated near the billiard table which stood in the right corner of the room, right next to the exit into the backyard. On the right side, near the garage door bearing an inscription “Beer-pong is here!”, was a small red couch with a giant plasma TV screen standing opposite it. Two guys were sitting on that couch, playing games on a play station. On the left side was a kitchen separated from the hall by an arch through a table covered with masses of alcohol bottles and red plastic cups was to be seen. It served as the second centre of attraction after the billiard table. The staircase leading to the first floor was illuminated by multicolored bulbs. The atmosphere of the party was attended with rhythmical music, which, however, wasn’t loud, because it was coming from somewhere in the backyard which was separated from the hall by a glass door with a sigh “Pool is here!”

  Since the only person I knew there – Joshua – had disappeared somewhere in the bathroom, I decided to while away the time by checking whether somebody had left comments under my new photos with Glutton on Instagram. There weren’t any comments, but I spotted a new picture on Joshua’s account – a bathroom selfie in the mirror, uploaded just a second before.

  “I’m not even surprised!” I thought to myself and then decided to find out where the symbol of the party had come from. I searched after hashtag “#Glutton”. The first portion of photos bearing this hashtag on Instagram had been recently uploaded by those present at the party. I even spotted some familiar faces – among them were two guys chilling on a couch and the host on whose personal account I found a video, 16 seconds long, telling the story of Glutton. I saw how several guys, one of whom was filming everything that was going on, and Mike braked sharply on the parking lot of some snack
bar, where Glutton had soared before. Then, very swiftly and accompanying their actions with obscene jokes and laughs, they undid the rope by means of which it was tied to a special supporting construction and tied it to the towing hook of their car. After that they drove off chased by cafe staff who ran out spotting the theft.

  “What are you looking at?” I heard Joshua’s voice. He was holding two plastic cups in his hands.

  “Take a look!” I showed him the video and we laughed together.

  New people kept arriving at the party and soon the entire house and the backyard which accommodated a huge swimming pool and an improvised stage with a DJ were immersed into the atmosphere of fun and entertainment. In the meantime, the street was darkened, the music had become louder and it was now heard all over the place. Under the influence of alcohol the girls became naughty and boys lost all fear – people were dancing and kissing literally at every step. Now and again somebody climbed up onto some elevation or other and, raising their hands in the air, loudly proclaimed something like “The best party ever!!!”, thus expressing, – and with instant echoing from other people, – their own feeling about what was happening there.

  The billiard table lost universal attention, and the crowd that previously had being hanging around it, moved into the garage to play bear-pong instead. For me and Joshua that fact was very convenient because we had a long history of billiard opposition to each other and we could play as many games as we wanted to, without waiting for our turn. Joshua actively flirted with girls, using vulgar billiard phrases like “Do you want to hold my stick?” or “Would you like to kick balls around on the table with me?” But it was just … Joshua…

  “That’s what I want to do!” my friend said, aiming to bring the ball into a pocket.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, unsure as to what he exactly meant. “Invent cheesy phrases? Playing billiards? ”

  “No, man” Joshua said and failed a shot. “I meant parties. I want to organize that shit! If I had a start-up capital, I would launch a night club. I’ve got a whole lot of ideas!”

  “Well, draw up a business plan, find an investor and go ahead,” I said, choosing the position for a shot. Then I delivered the ball into the pocket.

  “You are the best business adviser I’ve ever seen!” Joshua laughed. “Where am I supposed to find an investor?! Nobody will give me money!”

  “And you know why?” I said, making the next shot. “Because at first you need to take your ass out of the basement and do, undertake something! That’s why businessmen are also called undertakers. Didn’t you know that?” I grinned.

  My second shot was also successful.

  “I know where I should start!” my mate declared confidently, “I can get one hundred thousand dollars in just one night!”

  “I don’t like that idea!” I said, hit, but missed the pocket. “Damn! Your turn, bro. Joshua, I really think you shouldn’t do what you are planning to!”

  “Simon, maybe it is my chance!” he said, analyzing the positions of the cue balls on the table.

  “I really hope you would change your mind!”

  I turned aside from the game for a split second and glanced in the direction of the door where Mike was standing, welcoming a belated quest, who proved to be a stunningly gorgeous girl. She took up all my attention and from that moment on I was totally unable to think about anything else. All that had been bothering me (including Joshua) vanished into thin air, and it seemed like time slowed its pace. She greeted the party host and flitted inside the house so gracefully as if gravity had no power over her ideal body the perfection of which was highlighted by a short white slinky dress, contrasting with her skin of the same colour as brown sugar. A smile adorned her charming face and her dark straight hair flowed down onto her shoulders.

  “Hey! Simon! Your turn. Simon? What are you looking at?” like some voice behind the screen in a movie Joshua’s finally reached my mind. He came up to me and waved his palm before my eyes, but got no reaction from me (and I don’t even know why!).

  Then Joshua also glanced in the direction I was looking and saw the girl.

  “What a babe, man! She is as hot as…,” Joshua tried to express his feelings, but was interrupted by me woken up from trance.

  “Hold it for a sec, bro,” I said, giving him my billiard cue.

  “What are you going to do?”

  But his question remained unanswered, because I hastened to approach the girl of my dreams, afraid of losing sight of her. Several seconds later I appeared in front of her and practically blocked the way. She was bound to look at me and at that moment our eyes met for the first time. A spark definitely slipped between us.

  “Hello! You look like a princess and I am going to spend the whole night persuading you that I am your Prince!” I spoke quickly and confidently. “My name is Simon!”

  “Thanks for the compliment!” Her laughter was graceful, “but, honestly, I do have a boyfriend, if that is what you are worried about.”

  “It is your boyfriend who should be worried,” I wasn’t going to give up that easily. “After all, now you are standing next to me, and I’m not afraid of competition!”

  “You are funny,” she smile. “My name is Alberta!”

  “Nice to meet you!” I said and stretched my hand. She took it, but instead of a handshake she received an unexpected kiss. Her skin was very soft. She was clearly embarrassed, but I didn’t let her hand out of mine – I wasn’t intended to lose her once I’ve found her.

  “Let’s go, I’ll show you everything around,” I said and led her into the heart of the party – the pool, because I thought it was a top place to get to know each other better.

  “Hold on, I must wait for my friend,” She tried to resist my pressure. ”She is parking the car and will be here any minute.”

  “We will find her later!” I reassured her, still pulling her by the hand behind me. She surrendered and followed me.

  “But you’ve got to promise that you won’t live me alone here,” Alberta asked.“Because I don’t know anybody here at the party, except my friend.”

  “OK. You won’t believe me, but I understand you like no other,” I smiled and, suddenly remembering Mike’s question at the entrance, thought that Alberta and myself must have been the only people here who did not know anybody except one friend. “So, you aren’t local, are you?”

  “You mean from Queens?” she asked.

  “Exactly” I nodded.

  We went to the pool, which was in the backyard. In the twilight it looked like a giant rectangle filled with water (Mike proving to be a liar: alcohol was there only in the form of splashes out of glasses), on one side of which was an oblong semicircular ledge. This ledge seemed to me to be the calmest and most solitary place, like an island of peace in fact. It was at some distance from everything else, even though there were people hanging around and the music was very loud. As she was settling herself on one side of that “peninsula”, I again noted the gracefulness of her movements and grew all the more convinced that she was the girl of my dreams. Her beautiful face, full lips and shining eyes were driving me crazy.

  “No, I’m not. My grandmother lives here and I sometimes visit her,” the girl finally supplied an answer to my question. On our way to the ledge any communication was out of question, because of the loud music and the people around who were moving in all directions.“I live with my parents in Manhattan.”

  “So you came to see your Granny and ended up at the party?” I laughed.

  “I know, this sounds weird, but it’s totally different to what it may seem!” she protested. “See, my parents are very strict. And when I say “strict”, I don’t mean like all parents are supposed to be. It is the kind of strictness that verges on paranoia. They have a whole bunch of ridiculous rules and restrictions; I am not even allowed to hang out with my friends whenever I want to.”

  “Why so?” I asked and thought that probably our first conversation went on the wrong route. She was
tired of her parents’ control and it was probably better not to speak about it at a rare moment of them – when she was enjoying freedom. But, honestly speaking, it didn’t matter much as long as I was able to look into Alberta’s beautiful eyes.

  “They assigned a schedule for me, which contains everything, that I should do in each minute” She answered. “School, homework, private French lessons and stuff like that. They consider anything that is outside of the schedule, like hanging out with friends, to be deplorable waste of time”

  “Yeah, they are really strict and…kind of crazy, I say!” I smiled. “But I just don’t get it what the point of all those restrictions is. I mean, is it supposed to lead you somewhere?”

  “They think there is no other way to get into Berkley!” the girl answered, but I didn’t see much enthusiasm in her eyes.

  “A nice goal!”

  “Yeah, but pitiful and inadequate ways of helping its accomplishment! I understand, they only want the best for me, but I just don’t want to be separated from the rest of the world by the blind wall of their care. I mean isolated from other people, from my peers – I do not feel like I am part of it all and it is really sad!” she objected. “But Granny, she is totally different – she is cool. When I visit her, she always insists, not telling my parents, that I go out somewhere with friends. Today was no exception. Honestly, I was planning on going to another place with my friend, you know. I usually prefer night clubs or something to parties in backyards, but we saw Glutton while driving, and that fat guy attracted our attention. So we decided to pop in and see what is going on here. Then I met you.”

  “So, your grandmother and Glutton are reasons you are here,” I smiled. “Remind me later to give your granny a kiss on the cheek for making our meeting possible!”

  “OK, I will!” she laughed. “And what about you, are you from the neighborhood?”

  “No, actually we have much in common again. I too live on Manhattan and I too know nobody here, except one friend, who is a local.”

  “So he brought you to this party?”

  “Yeah, you could say that.”

  “So, don’t forget to give him a kiss too,” she laughed. “Because it is to him that you owe our meeting each other no less than to my Granny!”

  “Logic suggests that you are the person who must kiss him,” I objected, “I hope you are enjoying my company as much as I am enjoying yours and, if I am able to kiss the reason for your being here, so you must able to do the same with the reason of my coming to this party!”

  “Maybe I prefer to kiss you instead,” she leaned towards me if only just slightly, and these last words were almost whispered.

  “I thought you have a boyfriend,” I grinned.

  “I said a boyfriend, not a husband!” she whispered into my ear, touching my cheek gently.

  After that she seized my hand, got up abruptly, and exclaimed “Let’s go dancing!”

  I stood up and was just going to follow her, only to have our plans ruined by the noisy crowd advancing on us literally from all sides. We were cut off from the way out. It took me one second to analyse the situation and make a decision. I noticed that that crowd was carrying Mike above their heads, and he was resisting the obvious intention to dip him in the pool as a token of their “gratitude” for organising the party. The semicircular ledge where we were standing was an ideal place to realise their plan and nobody cared that it was occupied by us, by anybody for that matter.

  The drunken crowd flew into a rage so badly that it turned into a giant organism that either absorbed or squashed anybody who happened to be on its way. And at the moment it was myself and Alberta that happened to be in their way. Trying to force our way through the throng was pointless because of its extreme density, as was trying to join them because we were on the edge of the pool, and that guaranteed that we were supposed to dip into the water, followed by Mike and anybody who would not keep their balance in this hustle. So the best option for us was to jump into the pool before we were forced to do so and swim away to a safe distance from the madding crowd.

  Taking advantage of the fact that Alberta was still holding my hand, I drew her closer to me, hugged and, looking straight into her worried eyes, commanded: “We must jump into the pool!”

  Seeing her confusion, I added: “If we don’t do that ourselves, they’ll force us!”

  “But I am scared!” the girl hesitated.

  “Trust me!” I said and, understanding that any delay was out of question, leaped into the pool, dragging the girl with me.

  I keep Alberta inside my strong embrace. She was perfectly beautiful even under the water. I was looking at her and she was looking at me and this could have probably gone on forever, but we were going deeper and deeper. I was forced to release her in order for both of us to come out onto the surface. We did that and found ourselves fifteen feet away from the ledge where we had been several seconds before. When I was again able to breath, lifting my head above water, I instantly looked at the girl.

  “Why did you do that?” Alberta was indignant.

  “You would’ve never did it yourself!” I exclaimed and turn around to look what was going on there. Alberta also looked back.

  At that moment the crowd occupied the ledge, with no empty space left there, and loudly counted down seconds before throwing Mike into the pool.

  “Come on, let’s swim in there,” I suggested, pointing at the opposite edge of the pool, which was far enough from the counting crowd: “Seven…Six…”

  “OK” she agreed.

  Several seconds later I, putting my arm round Alberta’s waist, lifted her out of water onto the pool nosing and jumped out myself. On the opposite side the crowd said “One!” and Mike was catapulted, like a rock star at a concert, almost to the very centre of the pool. He was followed by those who, whether intentionally or accidently, jumped after him.

  “Thank you!” The girl said, watching that craziness.

  I only smiled in response.

  “But now I am all wet!” Alberta complained.

  “Honestly, I like it” I said, staring at her. She was looking so sweet and defenseless.

  “Mmm…your hair…,” I saw little curves.

  “What is wrong with that?”Alberta touched it as if fearing something really wrong.

  “It’s curly!” I said. Big long curly hair made her look even more fabulous, highlighting her fragile beauty.

  “My hair is just got wet,” the girl muttered. “I have naturally curly hair and have to straighten it.”

  “Why?” I was really surprised. “You look so lovely with that curly hair! Now looking at you, I realise that my first impression of you was wrong. You do not look like a princess, you ARE a Princess!”

  “Oh, thank you,” Alberta said. “I do it because my boyfriend likes straight hair.”

  I had only known her for a few minutes, which is usually not enough to begin to understand somebody, but this time it wasn’t all about words. Honestly, it didn’t really matter what we were talking about – her parents, her grandma, her curly hair or even her boyfriend. It was supposed to be awkward to speak about that during the first minutes after we met, but it wasn’t. It was like experiencing emotions yourself and sharing them at the same time – so new and so familiar at once, and that could mean only one thing – we were drawn to each other.

  “Your boyfriend understands nothing about your beauty!” I said and touched her cheek. “Berry, you are the most gorgeous girl I have ever seen, and you don’t need to change a single damned thing!”

  “Did just you call me “Berry?” she was surprised. “Nobody calls me that way except my parents.”

  “Now, there you are!!!” I heard a loud voice coming from behind, butting into our conversation, “I have been looking for you all over! Why didn’t you wait for me till I’m done with the parking?”

  I span around and saw a tall dark-haired girl in a close-fitting orange dress.

  “Simon,” Alberta said, getting to h
er feet. “This is my friend about whom I told you!”

  “Hi! Don’t blame Berry! It is all my fault! ” I said rising. “Sorry for that!”

  “Did you call her Ber…” the dark-haired girl stopped and carefully examined the two of us standing in front of her. She obviously noticed that we were soaking wet. “What happened?”

  “A bit of a water adventure!” Alberta smiled and turned to her friend. “Have you got something in the car I could get changed into?”

  “Yeah, I think so!” The girl in the orange dress answered it with such undisguised enthusiasm that her desire to discuss “a bit of a water adventure”, as well as myself, became way too obvious.

  “Simon,” This time it was Berry who addressed me. “I will be back soon, I hope you won’t disappear…”

  “You can depend on it, I won’t!” I said, moving closer to her and added, almost whispering into her ear. “And if you don’t get back, I’ll find you, be sure,” These words could have sounded creepy under different circumstances, but at the moment they really didn’t.

  “OK!” she smiled and went away with her friend.

  I thought that changing would be a good idea for me too, but, with no such opportunity, I opted for wringing my gear instead. I removed my T-shirt and began screwing water out of it. Suddenly a howl of sirens was heard and serially flashing red and blue reflections surfaced on the front side of the house. It was not hard to figure out that this was the police coming.

  “Probably someone from among the neighbors wasn’t invited to the party,” some guy conjectured jokingly about the reason the cops were coming.

  And it was at that moment everyone suddenly began to behave in a rather unexpected way. Practically everybody who was in the backyard, including Mike himself, rushed through fences of neighbors, fleeing from those who are expected to serve and protect. All at once I was growing pretty concerned with the situation. If the owner of the house was on the lam, there was nothing better left for his visitor than to follow suit. And I would have done so had it not been for me needing to find Alberta first. I didn’t have her contacts, and that meant that our chances to meet again were minimal.

  I went through the backyard into the house toward the people who were running in my direction. I had to force my way through because now and then I bumped into rushed fugitives. I was trying to find Berry actively looking around, but she wasn’t there.

  Inside the house I saw an even bigger mess than what was in the backyard. The entrance door was swung open and through I could see how several policemen detained some guy on the lawn. In spite the fact that people were hastily leaving the ground floor through the back door and the windows, the turmoil did not fall down, because from the first floor through the stair constantly arrived replenishment. Suddenly someone grabbed me by my shoulders from behind. I started, looked back and saw Joshua.

  “Man, where is your T-shirt?” he yelled. “Screw it! later… let’s get out of here through the backyard!”

  “Hold on!” I objected. “I must first find Alberta!”

  “Who?” Joshua was confused for a second but then his face cleared up almost instantly. “Ah, that girl! Where is she?”

  “She must be at the roadside!” I answered rapidly.

  “Bro, we can’t go there, one drunken guy punched a cop in the face right there on the lawn. So everybody who was there has been either detained or are trying to escape!” He shouted, “And we’d better do a bunk too!”

  “Man, I gotta check it out!” I uttered and ran to the entrance door. Joshua followed me yelling: “Shit! Dude, you are driving me crazy!”

  On the lawn the cops were arresting anyone who happened to. The road from both sides was blocked by police cars. Red and blue flashes in the dark made everything look very strange, almost scary.

  “See this?” my friend uttered. “She is not here, let’s go!”

  There was not much left to me but to acquiesce and run with him first into the backyard and then somewhere further away.

  “Hey, you stop!!!” we heard somebody’s loud voice coming from behind. This was probably a cop, addressing us, so we reacted by picking up pace.

  Some thirty feet ahead of us a guy in a red sweatshirt was running. He appeared to know the road out of trouble, so we decided to follow him. Flying over the fence, we found ourselves in the backyard of a house on a parallel street. The owner of that house wasn’t very happy about either the noisy party nearby or the considerable number of people escaping from the police raid. So the huge man, who was wearing a white gown that swung open, revealing boxer shorts and a vest of the same colour, was brandishing a baseball bat yelling: “Get out of my backyard!!!”, trying to strike at least somebody.

  The guy in the red sweatshirt almost collided with him, but somehow, demonstrating truly miraculous resourcefulness, managed to escape being struck by the bat and, having slipped by him, run to bypass the house from the right side. The man was so disappointed with this miss, that he started to follow that guy. For our maneuver we logically chose the left side of the home. Reaching a parallel street, we moved further until there were no more people around us, and we felt safe.

  “Simon, I can’t run…anymore…I need a break!” Joshua panted, then stopped and bent over, his hands on his knees. “I haven’t done much running since school days…ugh. Give me a moment to recover breath…”

  I stopped and put my hands on top of my head but said nothing.

  “Man, are you all right?” my exhausted friend inquired.

  “Alberta! I haven’t got her number!” I answered and punched the palm of my left hand with my right hand fist.

  “Bro, don’t worry, there are plenty more fish in the sea!” Joshua came up to me, put his hand on my shoulder and, barely resisting laughter, added, “Or you have turned into one of that type who dance with a chick and then text her “So what are we?”

  “You are an asshole!” I grinned, and then added quietly. “You do not understand”

  “What? She is that fatale?” Joshua asked, making a few more steps and sitting down on the curb. I sat down next to him.

  “We will find her. She was at the party and it means that somebody had to invite her!” my friend tried to reassure me.

  “She isn’t local and she didn’t know anybody at the party.”

  “And how did she end up in Queens?”

  “She had come to visit her grandmother.”

  “So…what else do you know about her?” Joshua asked thoughtfully and added with a laugh, “Did she not leave you with a glass slipper of hers?”

  “I only know her name… But I will find her!” I declared with confidence. “If need be, I will look through all girls with the name “Alberta” on Facebook. She may have posted a photo from the party on Instagram, I therefore will check every possible hashtag, beginning with #Glutton and finishing with #party. And also Twitter, she may have tweeted about it.”

  “Bro, it will take you a hundred years!” Joshua smiled. “Thousands of pages, photos and messages to check!!!”

  “I hope you will help me,” I eyed him intently.

  “Sure thing, I will!” He said. “But we should get somebody else involved!”

  “Only you and me can recognise her on a photo, so it doesn’t make much sense to get somebody else involved.”

  “You are right,” Joshua agreed. “Could you now answer my apparently untimely question?”

  “What question?” I wondered.

  “Where is your T-shirt?” he said with a smile on his face.

  “Honestly, I don’t even know…,” I was puzzled. “I was trying to twist it and then probably dropped it somewhere in the turmoil …”

  We both laughed.

  “OK, let’s go to my place, I’ll give you something dry to put on,” Joshua said and we walked slowly to his home.

  “Do you happen to have a dry smartphone?” I joked, pulling my wet gadget out of my pocket. Despite being soaked, it was still working.