The chat room
The theme of this draft short story or maybe novel is the relationship between internet chat rooms and government intelligence agencies; the basic plot is that a surfer discovers a sinister chat room which the intelligence agencies aren’t aware of.
If you would rather go directly to the episodes of The Chat Room, rather than read the preamble below, just scroll down the page until you find a screenshot of a chat room message box.
Each screenshot signifies an episode.
Updates
03/03/2010: wrote episodes 4 and 5 and added American interest, main female character is now American.
07/03/2010 added episode 7, skipping episode 6 for now. This is a portrait of Cali, the main male character, as a street photographer, and it’s based on personal experience.
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Preamble
It’s a draft because obviously it isn’t finished, but also because at this stage it just consists of dialogue, there is no characterisation or description. In fact it’s so ‘drafty’ there isn’t even anything to indicate who is speaking which lines!
This is because I prefer to write the dialogue first and kind of expand the dialogue, to see what it might lead to, to discover if the idea has potential.
In my view, there’s no point in getting too involved with characterisation and description if the idea doesn’t have potential.
I also plan to add some visual interest, which will initially consist of a screen shot from a chat room.
Obviously, chat rooms are an internet phenomenon, they are available only on the Web. Somehow it seems apt, relevant, to publish a story about an internet phenomenon on the internet, it’s as if this is where a story like this belongs.
Also, as I understand it writers are supposed to write about the world around them. Well, to billions of people, the internet is the world around them, so why not write about it.
The mysterious relationship between government intelligence agencies and chat rooms
It’s reasonable to suppose that government intelligence agencies survey chat rooms.
However, I have no idea to what extent they survey them, and how seriously they take the chat and the chatters.
What I’m saying is, ‘The chat room’ is fiction, it isn’t a definitive guide to the relationship between chat rooms and government intelligence agencies, it makes suppositions about this relationship which might not be entirely accurate, or even at all accurate.
Anyway, here’s the draft. Please keep in mind that like all drafts, everything is subject to change, including the dialogue.
The Chat Room
Suddenly she looked up from her computer and glanced at him: What are you doing? You’ve been staring at that screen for the past quarter of an hour.
She was struck by a sudden thought: Don’t you know how long you’ve been staring at it? Just sitting there staring at it, without actually doing anything?
He didn’t reply.
Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply anything, I didn’t mean to imply that, well, you know, that you have to be productive or anything, that you have to move your mouse or click your keyboard a pre-specified number of times.
He turned to look at her.
I was in a chat room, and -
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Chat room message box screenshot
The Chat Room, episode 1, version 2
This version features a screenshot of a chat room message box to hopefully create some visual interest. The screenshot also provides a useful ‘divider’ or borderline, to seperate each scene or episode of the story.
Also in this version, at last I explain who is speaking which lines! Also, there is some characterisation and even some humour. I’ll re-write scene 2 of the draft version pretty soon.
The Chat Room, episode 1, version 2
Suddenly she looked up from her computer and glanced at him. “What are you doing? You’ve been staring at that screen for the past 15 minutes. Don’t you know how long you’ve been staring at it, without actually doing anything?
He hardly heard her. He was fixated by the messages that popped up on the screen. What kind of chat room was this?
“Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply anything, I didn’t mean to imply that, well, you know, that you have to be productive or anything, that you have to move your mouse or click your keyboard a pre-specified number of times -”
Slowly he turned to look at her. His gaze was blank.
She decided to try a different approach. “I’m writing about someone like you,” she said brightly.
“What?”
“This story that I’m writing. One of the characters is, well, pretty insensitive. He’s been, well, de-humanised. Because of his terrible experiences. So he looks a little like you,” she finished with a rush.
“That must be pretty convenient for you. I mean, it’s a good thing that I happened to be here, that I just happen to look like this character of yours – “.
“Don’t get mad at me.”
“I’m not getting mad at you. Look, I hate to disappoint you, but I don’t actually want to look like someone who is insensitive, who has been de-humanised because of his terrible experiences.
“Well, that’s what you look like right now,” she said cheerfully.
He laughed. “Maz, sometimes you are so funny.”
“You can be funny too,” she said loyally.
He moved over to her and gently stroked her hair. “Listen. this thing that – this thing that kind of changed me for a little while just now. I have to do something about it. I have to talk to someone.”
“Can’t you talk to me about it?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t think so. Maybe it’s better if I don’t.”
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The chat room, episode 2, version 1
Cal, I have to tell you something. That chat room – that website, doesn’t exist. There is no record of it anywhere on the Web. Whatever site it was that you visited, whatever chat room on that website that you visited, doesn’t – well let’s say that it doesn’t officially exist.
Officially. No record of it. They call that ‘government-speak,’ don’t they?
Some people do. Quite often they’re the kind of people that don’t care too much for government.
Are you one of those people, Cal?
He shrugged non-committally. I just found it interesting that you used governmental terms – officially, no record of, in the context of the Web.
Surely you don’t subscribe to that Last Frontier nonsense – about the Web being free of government intervention?
Yep, I’m a Last Frontiersman.
What do you do, wear buckskin and a Davy Crocket hat when you’re surfing?
It’s ‘I see dead people’ but instead of seeing dead people I saw people that the government would probably prefer to, ah, how shall I put it, go away. And I saw these people discussing events that the government would probably rather not occur.
The chat room, episode 3, version 1
A fine sunny day on the banks of the river Thames, London, opposite M15 headquarters, on this side of the bank it’s a pleasant place of grass and trees.
Mostly secretaries on their lunch break munching healthy wholebread sandwiches and apples and pigeons snatching crumbs from between their pretty legs.
Also a few people with personal problems muttering to themselves as they walk by and if the secretaries care to listen they can hear snatches of their conversations, which mostly consist of previous hurts, betrayals and frustrated ambitions.
Mazeera, complete with pretty legs, finishes her apple and decides that she has a personal problem too – she doesn’t like being called ‘Maz.’
“Why can’t he use my proper name?,” she demands, to the surprise of a passing disturbed person.
He decides to interrupt his solitary conversation with the employer that fired him, the wife that divorced him and the children that won’t have anything to do with him. Possibly it’s a relief, possibly a change of topic will be beneficial. “Because it isn’t always a good idea,” he gently advises her.
She looks up at him and glances around. About 25 yards away, another couple of (presumably) secretaries are sitting on a park bench. Suddenly, one of them glances at her watch and replaces the lid on her sandwich box. They are finishing their lunches.
Instinctively, Mazeera switches to lone-woman-in-the-vicinity-of-a-disturbed-person mode, her antenna seeking allies and witnesses, anyone who might help – and realises that her allies and witnesses are planning to depart.
She gets up, brushing the crumbs from her skirt, and smiles quickly at him. “I’m sure you’re right” she says, moving away from him.
“Especially in chat rooms,” he adds, with a slight smile.
“What?” She turns around and for the first time appraises him. He is, she guesses, about 35, and surprisingly is wearing a suit. However, his tie is loosened and he could really use a shave. It occurs to her that he is normally smart but for some reason doesn’t want to look too smart. She smiles to herself. Deception… subterfuge.
This is what happens when you take your lunch break opposite M15.
The Chat Room, episode 4
The CEOs hand glided over the wooden base of the United States flag on his desk.”Oh, there’s just one other thing – something that’s just occurred to me.”
Mazeera leaned forward interestedly. He didn’t seem the kind to have things just occur to him. Why the sudden absent-mindedness?
“It’s just occurred to me that we – we Americans that is, have a duty to our British hosts,” he said.
She slowly nodded.
“We are allies, and as allies we should try to help each other.”
Mazeera wonders what it will be like to be an ally of another country, and not be a secretary.
“Obviously, anything that threatens Great Britain threatens the United States. Maybe not directly, but almost certainly indirectly”
“I understand,” she said.
“If, for example – and this is just a hypothetical example, if you were in a relationship with a British person, and if this person became a threat to British national security, it’s quite possible that he would also be a threat to our national security.”
Mazeera froze. Did he know about her relationship with Cali? She’d mentioned him to another secretary, during her coffee break, but that’s all. And what’s this about a threat? Cali wasn’t a threat.
“I understand,” she said again.
“Alternatively, if this British person became aware of a threat to British national security, and if he advised you of this, it would also be your duty to, ah, report it.”
“I see. Report it to whom, please?”
He leaned back in his chair and frowned judiciously. “I should probably advise you to report it to the authorities.” He tapped his fingers on the desk. “But on reflection I would prefer it if you reported it to me..personally.”
The Chat Room, episode 5
Waiting for the elevator to arrive Mazeera dedicates exactly 5 seconds no more and no less to the question of whether she should call an elevator a lift like the British do.
Any less might give the impression that she isn’t aware that the American and British terminology is different; any more might give the impression that she cares one way or the other about it.
Included in the 5 seconds is the slightly anti-American and slightly pro-British thought that it’s quicker to say ‘lift’ than ‘elevator,’ and she feels slightly guilty about this.
As always she concludes the 5 second elevator v. lift spot by telling herself that she will know – that something inside her will tell her, when the time is right to start calling an elevator a lift.
Phew.
“I guess I’m very structured in my thoughts,” she muses unnecessarily.
Finally she gets inside the lift and is just about to press the down button that will plunge her back to her allocated floor and to her allocated life as a secretary when she decides to give some Serious Thought to her meeting with the CEO.
She decides to structure her thoughts by dedicating them to the buttons on the lift, dedicating her most important serious thought to the top button, her next most important serious thought to the next button down and so forth.
She lightly taps the top floor button. “Ok, firstly, CEOs don’t discuss national security with secretaries.” Then she taps the second button. “Secondly – and this really re-enforces what I said to the first button, private companies don’t usually discuss national security with anyone; national governments discuss national security.
Then she taps the third button. “Thirdly, CEOs don’t ask secretaries whether they are happy or not, they don’t care whether they are happy or not. That was just a preamble, stage smoke, the real topic was this security thing.”Then she taps the fourth button. “Again, this really re-enforces what I said to the previous button, but CEOs don’t have last minute thoughts, things don’t just occur to them, they know exactly what they want to say.”
She presses the button to her allocated floor and to her allocated life as a secretary, and wonders what it would be like to not be a secretary, and be a CIA agent instead.
The Chat Room, episode 7
Cali walking through the streets of London’s East End in urban or street photography disguise consisting of jeans, a hooded top and with a dirt-stained travel bag slung over his shoulder.
He’s unafraid but not overconfident and definitely non-threatening in other words he believes he has achieved the correct balance. Carefully packed in the dirt-stained travel bag cushioned by foam is a professional digital SLR camera that is worth several thousands of pounds.
Each time someone brushes past him and decides that he isn’t worth mugging they are passing by the chance to make at least 20 times as much money as they would make in a week in their minimum wage jobs or from their state unemployment payments.
Life is full of missed opportunities and he kind of embodies this message; if someone were to launch a travelling road show with the message ‘life is full of missed opportunities’ Cali as a street photographer would make a great guest speaker, a convincing advocate, for the cause.
It helps that he is young – 23 – and capable looking, which is just as well because when he gets around to practicing some street photography as opposed to just looking like a street photographer he might have to deal with some pretty mixed reactions.
As he walks it occurs to him that if he had driven instead of walking he could have used his in-car satellite navigation system which everyone calls a sat-nav to find the pub.
He has a street map in his back pocket but instinctively he knows that it might not be a good idea around to get out a street map and look as if he is lost around here.
He has memorised the route from the tube station to the pub but it involves at least a dozen streets and avenues and although he can remember the first five or six he is a little hazy about the rest.
It would be great if someone suddenly appeared who looked as if he were a Duke of Wellington drinker, as if there were something about him that gave that impression, and if he were striding purposefully towards it.
Cali could just follow him.
But there’s another old saying, as painfully valid as ‘life is full of missed opportunities,’ and it’s the old saying ‘things don’t always work out the way we want them to do.’