Adapt (5 page)

“The kids picked that out for you,” said Dominique, pointing at Daniel’s new jumper. “It suits you.”

“Thank you.”

Daniel’s father picked up Alana. “Father Christmas has been. You must have all been good for Mummy.”

“We’re always good for Mummy,” said Freya. Daniel shared a smile with his sister over Freya’s comment.

The whole family made their way into the living room. The men of the family all found a chair while Clarissa and Dominique sat with the children passing around presents.
It’s like the Christmas films that Mum loves so much. Everyone’s so happy. Maybe next Christmas I will have my own family, cousins for Freya, Alana, Marcus and Luke. They can all grow up together as we did with our cousins.
His heart was warmed by the thought.

“A train set,” shouted Luke. “Can you set it up for me, Uncle Danny?”

“If we wait for the rest of the presents to be opened we can set it up in the middle of the room,” said Daniel.

“Okay then,” replied Luke.

Daniel and the other adults all spent the rest of the day setting up and playing with toys. Everyone tried to make it memorable for the younger generation.
The pair of you are in your sixties but you have an abundance of energy to make sure your grandchildren have fun.
Following the festive feast the kids all continued to play while the older generation recovered from the enormous three course meal. After the children went to bed they communed around the fire. Most of the year is spent focused on the now or the future. At Christmas time the family always reminisced and shared stories of growing up.

Daniel went to fetch a few beers. “Here you go, Ray,” he said, passing out the drinks.

“Thanks,” said Ray. “Man U versus West Ham early in January. Are you worried?”

“Not at all,” replied Daniel. “We tend to up our game at your ground.”

“True, West Ham do pull something out of the hat against big teams. A true underdog. It will be a good game.”

“I might be in London around that date, I will stop by for a few beers.”

“Sounds good.”

The large meal followed by drinks had Daniel ready for bed.
He said goodnight to everyone. He found his mother in the kitchen washing the dishes.

“Goodnight, Mum. I think the kids were all happy with their presents.”

“Goodnight, Daniel.”

Whilst in bed Daniel’s thoughts were alive with plans for the New Year.
I’m going to do so much. I feel positive about the future. I had a little breakdown, leave that in the past. I feel ready to take on the world. I’m in the best physical shape I’ve ever been in. My family’s good. Everything is good.

With the Christmas holiday over Daniel resumed his job. It had been an enjoyable break spent with his family, and one he had looked forward to. On the morning of his return everything felt the same as before Christmas. His relaxed persona once again returning to confusion and manoeuvring through an uncomfortable atmosphere. Whilst signing in, the strange sense that his colleagues were talking about him was stronger than ever. “What have you guys been looking at recently?” asked Daniel. “You have been watching something on your phones. I was wondering what it is.”

“None of your business. What do you look at?” said Noel. The group looked up at Daniel.
Why are they looking at me like that, like I’ve insulted them?

“Fair enough, I couldn’t care less, I was only being sociable.” Daniel ignored them and scanned through the company letter he found in his pigeonhole.
Who the hell just barged me in the back?
“What did you do that for?”

“I didn’t see you there,” said Noel.

“That was quite a shove for an accident,” said Daniel.

“I didn’t see you. Simple as that,” replied Noel.
There is something wrong with him today. I will ignore that, I’m sure it wasn’t intentional.

Daniel left the mess room, checked over his bus and began his route. It was an early start and only few passengers in the stops.
It’s a quiet morning, but the people I am seeing are still looking at me
strangely.
He tried to dismiss everything he was experiencing but he couldn’t help but feel uneasy. The morning continued in the same vein.
College run next on the duty, a nice easy route, no stops, just load up at the station and drop off at the college.
He pulled in to the pickup bay, and opened his doors for the college students.

“That’s the driver,” said one student as he laughed along with his friends.

“Is everything okay there guys?” asked Daniel. The four friends responded by poking their tongue out.
Not that bloody tongue out again.
Daniel checked his mirror to make sure everyone was seated. The bus was old, one of the few left in the fleet of its age. Many miles had been covered in its service life and it showed. Scratches decorated the panels, patched up seats and a demister lacking any demisting ability. It handled poorly compared with the newer vehicles, especially on the country lanes. The fifteen minute journey to the college took over twenty. The weather wasn’t an issue; over the proceeding few days a rise in temperature by a few degrees had turned the snow to sleet, which was slowly turning to rain.

Whilst parked outside the old brick built college the students laughed at Daniel as they got off of the bus. The last passenger jumped off then turned to look at Daniel.

“So was it all just a joke?” she asked.

“Was what a joke?”

“That whole thing you uploaded onto the net,” she said.

“What thing?” he asked. The young woman poked her tongue out and walked off.
I’ve never uploaded anything.
His stomach began to feel uneasy.
I must have really been hacked. This is real. How could I be so stupid to have not realised what is going on? Someone did hack me that night.
His mind was fixated by the revelation that he had been hacked and that it was possibly uploaded onto the internet. He couldn’t think of anything else. On arriving back at the bus station he ran over toward the coffee shop to get out of the rain. The clouds above dark and heavy. He tripped. His mind was elsewhere and he fell to the pavement. An attempt to brush the dirt down was pointless as the soaked shirt absorbed the muck. The people waiting in the stop didn’t hide their amusement. He found refuge from the downpour in the shop.

“Hello, can I get a large black coffee please?” he asked over the counter. A middle aged man to his right stared in his direction. Daniel looked away at his coffee being prepared. The woman serving him knew he always had two sugars. She guided the spoon around the cup and looked at Daniel.

“I could stir up your troubles but I think you’re going to have enough of them,” she said. “As you’re a regular I will keep quiet.” Daniel didn’t answer.
I need to find Ian. He said I was all over Life’s Journal. He can clear this up.
Daniel left his coffee and made his way to the bus station.

“Have you guys seen Ian?” he asked the five drivers standing outside of the cabin.

“No. We have all seen something else though,” said one of them as the rest laughed.

“What’s so funny? What have you all seen?”

“Nothing,” another said.

“Seriously, what’s going on? There’s a joke going around. Noel bloody shoved me this morning,” said Daniel.

“You’re paranoid,” one said. Daniel ignored them and scanned the parked buses in the station hoping to spot Ian. Daniel found his witness talking to Noel.

“You said I was on Life’s Journal. What was on there?”

“You look a state, mate,” said Ian.

“Tell me what you saw. I’m not on Life’s Journal,” said Daniel.

“Don’t worry about it. That was before Christmas.”

“I am fucking worried. Who’s putting stuff about me on the internet? I have been getting all kinds of things said to me. People I’ve never met making references to me. If there’s something on the internet about me I haven’t put it there.”

“Ask someone else,” said Ian.

“I have but you were the one who said it outright.”

“I’m not getting involved. I saw nothing,” he said.

“You were the one who fucking said it.” Daniel was becoming frustrated and it began to show. Noel then stepped toward him.

“You have something in your head,” said Noel.

“Are either of you going to tell me?”

“I’ve got to go,” said Ian as he walked off.

Maybe I should go around asking random strangers. They will
probably put me in a loony bin if I do that. I can’t finish my shift. I can’t work until I find out what is going on.
Daniel walked over to the manager’s office. He entered the cabin.

“Daniel. Take a seat,” said the manager. Daniel stayed on his feet.

“I’m leaving,” he said.

“You’re in the middle of a shift.”

“I have to go. There’s something I need to resolve. I can’t work in these conditions.”

“I think it’s for the best. I would like you to finish your shift though,” said the manager.

“I’m leaving right now. I know there is something going around about me,” said Daniel.

“Really,” said the manager. “We have seen nothing. Nothing about you, Daniel.”

“I wish the company all the best, but I have to get out of here. I need to find out what’s going on.” Daniel turned to walk toward the door.

“You’re not looking for an escort are you?” the manager asked. Daniel stopped and turned to face him.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You know the way out. That’s all I’m saying.”

Daniel left the cabin and walked in the rain, moving slowly, droplets falling heavily on him. He looked into the bus that was departing from the stop beside him. There was a young woman seated near the back. She stared at him, shaking her head.
Why? Why are you looking at me like that?
He closed his eyes, beads of water dripped down his face. Tilting his head back he could sense the foreboding sky above. Dark clouds, mean and threatening.

The second Daniel got home he searched again. Nothing on Life’s Journal, nothing, like a phantom taunt he couldn’t understand.

Who has done this, and where is it now?

The room was dimly lit. Grey wallpaper stained with smoke peeled away from the corners. Mould gathered around the window and down the wall, creating a stale smell that absorbed into everything, including the bed. Outside of the bedroom door to the left was a kitchen entrance. Dishes stacked up across the worktops. Empty beer cans and take-away boxes gathered around an overfilled bin. The fridge door was open. A man reached in to get his reward for journeying away from his computer. He closed the fridge door. He walked back to his bedroom, opening the can as he arrived back at his desk. He landed on the chair with a thud. The leather chair was new, unlike the old chipped desk that it sat in front of. The man’s waistline was testament to a crate of beer a night. A loose pair of jogging bottoms were his attire for endless hours at the screen.

He used the mouse to scroll down a list of names on the screen.
My slaves
he thought whilst his other hand scratched at his receding hairline. He clicked on a name. A new desktop opened in a window. The desktop was different from his own. This desktop had a photo of a family, a family he knew.
What are you up to at the moment, slave?
He opened a third window, this time to a camera. Sound was available at the simple click of a button.
Reading your emails. I will read them with you.
The man he thought of as slave was in his own bedroom reading his emails. The slave, a man with long hair and a few days’ stubble, was unaware he was being watched.

Okay, I’m going to access your profile.
The watcher opened a fourth window, this time signing in to Life’s Journal. The name he used, Daniel O’Neal. At first glance it was like any other profile, videos and photos filled the pages. Scrolling down there were copious amounts of video footage and phone conversations. Stills of text messages and emails. Some videos were double windows, one of Daniel on camera, the other, simultaneously imaging his desktop.
You can’t even pick your nose without me uploading it, slave. Months of work and you’re still oblivious. You have a breakdown, I’m here. You have an argument, I’m here. You watch porn, I’m here. You laugh, I’m here. You cry, I’m here.

The watcher glanced at the number of views his site attracts.
It’s not only me here with you, slave. Thousands watch you, criticise you, judge you, laugh at you. Many despise you. They are not used to seeing someone all day and night. They have never witnessed someone breaking down. It’s ugly, they think you’re ugly. I’ve seen it before with other slaves but never one that brings my website so much traffic, so many views. More and more and you have no idea. I don’t hate you, slave. You bring me traffic, views, friends, comments. Nothing in it for you but there is for me. They love the way I edit your videos, they think you are a joke. Now I edit them in new ways.
The watcher laughed to himself. He gulped back his beer. Wiping beer away from his chin, stubble scratching at the back of his hand he thought of how clever he was. Remembering an article in which he read that people who use Remote Administration Tools were not real hackers.
Rubbish. I’ve infected many computers with this software unbeknown to the slave. Dating sites are the best way. Full of desperate, naïve, hopeful, trusting people. Easily fooled by a pretty picture. I use the same software used to spy on a spy: Blackshades. The Syrian regime used the same tool on an informant. The spy’s phone was infected and he had no idea.

The Watcher opened up another window to see his slave’s text messages. The tool enabled him to use the smart phone camera, both front and back. The Watcher could view the mobile screen, one camera on his slave’s shoes, and the other on his slave’s face. All of it uploaded for everyone to see. Audio at the click of a button. Tracking via the satellite navigation. Daniel hadn’t been alone for months.
People watch you just to hate you. Some say they
are going to kill you since I have been creating my best work.

I watch you lying down, pleasuring yourself, whilst you watch a woman lying down, pleasuring herself. Your voyeurism is our voyeurism. I now use a double window. One of you getting off, the other I impose rape footage. People that come onto my site think you look at rape. It makes them angry. It creates the reaction I thought it would. So long as no one you know informs you I can keep doing this to you. I know you’re getting paranoid. I turned the light on to your webcam intentionally to see your reaction. You were still too stupid to realise I’m there all the time. You deserve all you get, slave. Every stupid thing you say on a whim. You forget it but it’s not forgotten by others. Solidified in stone where people can replay it, edit it and despise you for it.

The Watcher clicked back onto the Life’s Journal page.
Site not available. What?
He couldn’t access the account. He made copies every other day so he would suffer no data loses.
If they are tracing the IP address I’m fucked.

“Oh fuck,” he said aloud while shutting down the computer. “What can I do? Shit. They have shut me down.” He paced the room.
I know, I take a chance and send it to one of Robert McLeod’s journalists. That might take the focus off of me. I will send them the software, they can hack him. They hack everyone. I will send them copies of the edited footage then ditch this computer. It’s finally over, slave.