How it all began…
"This is our world now... the world of the electron and the switch, the beauty of the baud. We make use of a service already existing without paying for what could be dirt-cheap if it wasn’t run by profiteering gluttons, and you call us criminals. We explore... and you call us criminals. We seek after knowledge... and you call us criminals. We exist without skin color, without nationality, without religious bias... and you call us criminals. You build atomic bombs, you wage wars, you murder, cheat, and lie to us and try to make us believe it’s for our own good, yet we’re the criminals. My crime is that of outsmarting you, something that you will never forgive me for."
Lloyd Blankenship - The Hacker Manifesto
31 January.
Mira D’Abrosca’s life, her real life, the one that she’d remember forever, or for as long as her memory lasted, began with a phone call four hours earlier.
To say it had dragged on would be an understatement…
She bit down on her cracked lips, trying to contain her sobs as she defied the late night wind and the sudden downpour that, knowing she was on foot and had no umbrella or raincoat, had been waiting patiently for her.
She trudged along the rain soaked streets, her black boots splashing angrily through the puddles, scattered here and there along the sidewalk like long forgotten pieces of a puzzle.The only illumination was provided by two old streetlamps, one of which was flickering annoyingly, while everything else seemed to have been swallowed up by darkness.
She was all alone as she strode briskly along, a solitary, shivering figure in a black, knee-length coat, a damp beige scarf wrapped pathetically around her neck. At least she’d remembered to wear gloves.
Despite the freezing temperatures, she’d opted for elegance over comfort, convinced that Luca would be driving her home. However, things had taken a very unexpected turn.
Raindrops drummed fiercely on Mira’s face, soaking her ebony curls, freezing her to the bone.A couple of minutes and she’d be at the corner, after that another mile and she’d be home, tucked up with a cozy blankie and a hot strawberry tea.
And the comfort of Flora. Sweet Flora - who wouldn’t be quite so sweet once she found out her best friend had walked all the way home in the cold and dark.
She’d be furious. She’d call her an idiot ten times over - until she saw her face, then she’d back off in alarm.
Luca dumped me. He doesn’t want me anymore…
That’s all she’d say, nothing else.
Then Flora would change her tune. She’d joke at first, convinced Mira was teasing her and Luca had finally popped the question…then there’d be more questions. She’d go off on one, call Luca a loser and a creep then, finally, she’d hug her.
Oh, Flora. I wish I didn’t have to go home, she thought, shivering at the touch of the wet scarf on her neck.
Suddenly, two headlights lit up the street, dazzling her. The wave of water that followed in its wake as the car zoomed passed hit her full on, sending her staggering, her heel almost catching in a crack in the sidewalk.
“Anything else?” she blurted furiously, her face turned angrily to the heavens. “Any more surprises up your sleeve?”
She began to run, no longer caring about her unbuttoned coat or the wet scarf, which fluttered in her face, threatening to come undone at any moment. She ran until she turned the corner, finally recognizing San Salvario, brightly lit, the streets practically deserted because of the downpour.
Instead of going straight on, however, she cut through the park, something she would never have dreamed of doing at that time of night.
But right then, she didn’t care. She was invisible, anyway.
She got home earlier than expected, and stood breathlessly in the doorway, leaning her forehead on the door, unaware that the worst surprise was yet to come.
Home was a simple, two-room apartment that she and her best friend were renting while they studied at the University of Turin.
As soon as she burst through the door, however, she knew the apartment was empty –there was no sign of Flora and no trace of the Imagine Dragons that she always played full blast whenever she was home.
Mira pushed the door closed, dropped her bag down on the couch in the living room, and began to pull off her clothes. She switched on the light in the bathroom; it was all she needed, she knew the apartment like the back of her hand and could have walked around it blindfolded.
Determined to avoid her reflection in the mirror, she stepped into the shower. As she waited for the water to reach the right temperature, she let out a sneeze. Then another.
Eyes burning, she stood under the shower head, letting its jet of hot water chase the cold from her bones then, head down, eyes closed, she mentally ran through the events of the day.
At 9:30 am, while she was helping her with the groceries, Flora had accidentally trapped the little finger of Mira’s left hand in the car door.
At the ER they’d quickly checked her over, given her ice for the swelling, pills for the pain, taped her finger up to keep it straight, and applied a gauze dressing. She’d soon be back to normal, but Mira had been forced to pull out of the piano recital she was scheduled to give later that week.
At 9 pm, Luca had called, asking her to meet him as soon as possible, saying they needed to talk...she instinctively clenched her fists at the memory, and her left hand screamed for mercy.
She couldn’t think about that, not now.
Not after all she’d just been through - hours of discussion, begging for an explanation, the yelling, the screaming, the insults.
She could, of course, lock herself away and gather dust for the next month. Admittedly, the thought was very tempting.
What’s a month compared to seven years?
Is this what they mean by The Seven Year Itch?
Slowly, she slid down the tiled wall of the shower until she was on her knees.
Seven…It’s just a number…
She massaged her temples with her fingertips, trying to compose herself.
It was useless. It had been a bad day right from the start. What she needed now was a cup of tea (or two), a nice frothyrom com to watch with the lights out, and a deep, dreamless sleep that lasted until the eleventh Ice Age.
Then, when things calmed down, she’d call Luca, give him a chance to explain in a more...peaceful way.
Seven years...
She got to her feet, turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a white fluffy bathrobe around her body.
Seven years.
Mira threw herself down on the huge cherry-red L-shaped couch in the living room and let out a groan - after all that running, her legs felt like lead.
She took the towel she’d wrapped around her damp hair and dabbed it over her still wet face, then reached out and grabbed her purse, fumbling for her cell phone.
As soon as she touched it, it began to vibrate. Him.
-Can I call you?
Shit! He was back for round two?
Her fingers tightened indecisively around her cell phone while the message on the display seemed to pulsate, dazzling her eyes and her brain.
-You at home?
Kind, Thoughtful Luca was back. For a moment she thought about not answering - when it came to Mira, he’d always been anxious and possessive and being ignored would be the ultimate humiliation. However, it was the kind of behavior she couldn’t stand and, besides, she was better than that, so she began to type...
-Yes. But I’m tired. Don’t feel like talking right now.
She sat back on the couch and tossed her phone onto one of the fluffy cushions.
One second later, it rang.
This time it was Arrogant Luca. A side of his character that had emerged all too often in the past months.
She grabbed her cell phone and shoved it into the nearest drawer. She’d had enough for one night and didn’t want to talk about it anymore - at least, not until Flora came home.
Mira had gotten into the habit of sleeping on the couch because her roommate couldn’t stand the dark and always kept a night light on in the bedroom.
Her eyes fell on her laptop, abandoned on the floor near the couch, and she let out a sigh. She picked it up and turned it on. Bring on the sappy romcoms.
Seriously…who was she kidding? She didn’t want to watch a movie - then again she couldn’t just sit there and brood, letting her mind run riot, because she knew how it wouldend.
She was idly tapping her nails on the keyboard when the front door opened. Five seconds later, Flora, an umbrella clutched in her hand, popped her head round the door from the tiny, cream painted hall.
“You’re here. I figured you’d be staying at Luca’s,” she said, not noticing her friend hastily brushing a tear from her cheek. “Why are your clothes on the floor?”
“I’ll pick them up later,” Mira replied hoarsely, avoiding making eye contact.
Flora tugged off her jacket and ran her hand through her short, blonde hair, before starting to undress. “I’ll hit the shower too,” she shouted from the corridor.
Sensing she was watching her, Mira nodded imperceptibly, her eyes glued to the screen, waiting for the right time to say something.
“Sorry about this morning...again,” Flora yelled. “I feel so bad.”
“Don’t worry, it’s just bruised, nothing serious. I won’t make you sleep on the landing.”
“Did Carcaro say anything?”
Professor Carcaro was Mira’s piano teacher at the Conservatory: she’d known him for ten years. Ten years of countless lessons, beers in the classroom and concerts up and down the country.
“Yeah, you’re officially banned from my next and final recital.”
“A shitty ending to a shitty day, then. Two interviews, two rejections, now that...” Flora grunted, her clothes joining Mira’s on the floor.
“Damn! And they told you straight away?”
“The first interview, yes. They offered the job to someone who writes for their sports supplement - plus the guy who interviewed me was a total chauvinist. Walked me to the door, suggested I look for something more in my wheelhouse, then gave me his number.”
“And the second one?”
Flora popped her head around the bathroom door and glared at her. “Doesn’t matter how much experience you have or if you’re willing to do a whole year’s internship without taking a single cent, there’ll always be some bitch in the interview room with bigger boobs.”
“You’re a D-cup!” Mira replied.
“That’s not the point!”
“All right, then.”
“You okay?” Flora asked. “You sound...strange...”
Mira closed her eyes. She was going to have to tell her. It was too obvious and Flora wasn’t stupid. “It wasn’t quite the evening I was expecting.”
She opened her inbox and checked her mail, though she really wasn’t interested. She just needed to do something.
She was purging her spam when an unread message caught her eye - It contained a large attachment and the subject line read: For two weekends only, 50% discount on hotels + tickets for the Volterra Torture Museum.
Nice.
Mira wasn’t a fan of museums - all those high school trips, hanging around galleries for hours while the guide babbled on and onalways put her to sleep, but right now she was so angry with Luca that the idea of imagining him with his head on the chopping block of a guillotine seemed quite inviting.
Plus she’d never been to Volterra. Would Flora go with her? She moved the cursor over the message and, without thinking, clicked.
The message opened.
For several seconds nothing happened. Just when Mira was beginning to think her computer was frozen, the screen changed, becoming almost total black, with what looked like a fluorescent green spider web at its center. Then a tinny, robotic laugh echoed through the speakers.
“Oh, shit...!” she exclaimed in surprise. What the hell had she done?
“What’s wrong?” Flora shouted from the bathroom.
The laughter showed no signs of stopping. It sounded horribly, chillingly fake. Mira stabbed at various keys, trying to close the program but nothing doing.
In exasperation, she pressed the off button. Suddenly, the image disappeared.
A chat window she’d never seen before appeared in its place.
Dumbfounded, she sat there,not knowing what to do.
“Mira? What’s happened?”
She took a deep breath and had just opened her mouth to reply, when a message appeared on the black screen.
S: well, well, well…who have we here?
“Flo...Flora!” Mira cried out in alarm. “You remembered to renew the antivirus, right?”
Without waiting for her friend to reply, she decided to check for herself.
She was just covering her eyes with her good hand in the exact moment that Flora shouted back from under the shower. “I thought you were doing it!”
Dearest reader,
first of all, thank you for reading this far!
Let me introduce myself: I'm Eowyn Wagner and I'm excited to share my stories with anyone who would like to read them!
I hope you enjoy puzzles and cybergames, because this saga is full of them!
Speaking about the story...I'll leave you with a spoiler for the next chapter:
M: you're disgusting.
S: you're the kinky one, not me he replied.
M: get out of my computer.
S: is that a threat?
Mira clicked to close the window but it automatically poppedup again.
M: i'm not joking. It's a crime. Stop it, or I swear, I'll report you!
S: i'm shaking.
You can find me on IG: eowynwagner_writer
and TikTok: eowynwagner
catch you later!
