I’ve now decided only to post this log to people I trust. So I can really say what I mean. So, if you’re reading this, you’re one of the privileged few. So, it’s no longer a G-Log. It’s a Secret Log. You’ll see why when you read on.
I feel oddly empty now that our big project has finished. Louish has suggested I go on to work more generally on the integration of the Z Zoners into normal society. That sounds massive to me and it was clear from what happened yesterday that we have to tread carefully. We can’t rush at it. But that’s what I’m going to suggest at my Work Assessment this morning. Sick leave finishes soon.
Sick leave? On Terrestra? Who’d have thought it?
I bumped into Maisie in the corridor yesterday. She’ll be leaving soon, for a short while at least. They’re sending her to Melbin to work on a project there. Luckily as it’s one for forty-two days she’s allowed to keep on the apartment here and she’ll stay in an office hotel.
Then this morning I saw Julien in the lift again. I told him about Maisie leaving. He says we should have a party. Not many people do that any more. We’re all moving about so much all of the time. I guess the nearest I’ve seen to that was when Louish had all of her friends round for coffee and cakes and bubbling nectar. Party! Such an old-fashioned idea. But by the time the lift got to the bottom of the tower, I’d caught Julien’s enthusiasm.
“But we don’t know who her other friends are,” I said.
“Modern life, my dear, modern life,” he replied. “Anyway, I’ll come as Julienne and then I’ll go home again and come back as me as I am now. We could always invite a few droids.”
“Or holo a party,” I said. “Or call up the other people in the block.”
He suddenly started rummaging in his bag. He pulled out a small flat white object and a thin stick. He was writing in Wordtext! He handed it to me.
“I know someone who can hack into the systems. I could find out who her work colleagues are. You talk to her and see if she has any other personal friends.”
I felt myself go really hot. This was Hidden Information, surely? This was what he and his friend were playing with. They weren’t peddlers, were they?
I must have looked gobsmacked. He shook his head as if to say “Don’t react, they’re watching you.” In case you’re worried, don’t be. He’s got his friend to make this absolutely secure. Not even the info-crawlers will find it.
Well, he invited me to have a coffee in the little bar at the bottom of the tower. He then said very loudly. “We’ll just have to trick her into telling us who her workmates are, and invite them along, too. Want do you think? Bubbly nectar and canapés? Retro-muzak?” All for the sake of the spycameras, I guess.
You have to give it to him. He’s enthusiastic. But when I asked him about his work, he was completely vague.
“Oh, this and that,” he said. “You know how it is.”
He certainly gave me plenty to think about. So, I walked along the Dock Front instead of taking a transporter to the Work Assessment Centre.