returned.
That didn’t just happen. No way. They must be hacking me. The media is hacking me.
Daniel ran out of the room. He entered the kitchen, where his mother and brother were. Matt was cooking himself breakfast.
“I’ve been hacked,” shouted Daniel.
“Most people have,” said Matt.
“This isn’t a joke. I think I’m still being hacked.”
“Slow down,” said Clarissa. “What do you mean?”
“Something has been going on. I thought it was work then Ithought it was local,” he said. “It’s more than that. I think the media are hacking me.”
“No one is hacking you. Least of all the media,” said Matt.
“They are, and have been for a while.”
Clarissa was shocked by his reaction. “Your bank details have been hacked or your share dealing account or something else?”
“Neither,” he said. “Maybe both. My webcam and phone. God knows what else.” Clarissa and Matt both looked confused. “I was paranoid about it, but put it down to that. Paranoia.”
“That’s probably what it is. The media haven’t hacked you. I’m sure of that. Don’t worry,” said Matt.
“Of course I’m bloody worried. They are still hacking me.”
“Have you looked?” asked Matt.
“Yes, I’ve looked but can’t find anything,” said Daniel “Can you have another look on Life’s Journal. A bloke from work said it was there.”
Matt pulled out his phone. “I will type your name in to see what comes up. Did he say what it was called or if it was your name?”
“I did but he won’t help,” said Daniel as he walked across the kitchen. Standing in front of the cooker he felt his arm warm. The ring on the electric cooker glowing red. Matt had left it on. Daniel held his hand over the ring, radiating his palm until it turned red. He turned off the cooker.
“I can’t find anything,” said Matt as he put his phone on the work surface and began to eat his breakfast. Whilst dipping toast into a soft egg Matt questioned the reliability of where Daniel got his information. “Are you sure it’s not a wind up? A joke at work?”
“It’s not a joke,” said Daniel. “At first that’s all I thought it could be, but believe me it’s no joke. I’ve had too many strange reactions.”
“Has anyone told you anything?” asked his mother. “What type of strange reactions?”
“No. Some are negative reactions. Actually I would class it all as negative but some are worse than others. No one has given clear details.”
“If you can try to relax, we will see how things pan out,” she said.
“Okay,” he said. He could see the concern his mother had for him.
“It’s understandable that you’re anxious but you can’t do anything at the moment,” she said. “Stop using your computer for now.”
“I have. I’m never using it again,” he replied.
Matt walked to the kitchen door. “Try not to worry,” he called back.
“I’ll try,” said Daniel.
Daniel did try to forget about it. He went for a run, refuelled with a salmon salad ready for a resistance training session. Following the exercise he set up a canvas. He had produced a few pieces of art a number of years ago, and he remembered how relaxing it was. The calmness of gliding a brush across the sheet leaving behind an exuberant mix of colour. Creating a landscape, exaggerating the red sky of a sunset or a moody cloud formation. Art in which he could transcend into the detail of the world he was creating. He painted a purple sky with a low morning sun, bright and yellow in the centre of the canvas. A pink hue surrounding was where he finished. He left it incomplete and decided to finish the art another day. The picture was left wanting, needing, much the same as his mind.
Later that night he watched the TV, sipping a sweet mug of honey that he clasped with both hands. A comedy news programme he often watched had changed. The beginning sequence now contained the same gestures people had been directing at him all week. The poking out
That didn’t just happen. No way. They must be hacking me. The media is hacking me.
Daniel ran out of the room. He entered the kitchen, where his mother and brother were. Matt was cooking himself breakfast.
“I’ve been hacked,” shouted Daniel.
“Most people have,” said Matt.
“This isn’t a joke. I think I’m still being hacked.”
“Slow down,” said Clarissa. “What do you mean?”
“Something has been going on. I thought it was work then Ithought it was local,” he said. “It’s more than that. I think the media are hacking me.”
“No one is hacking you. Least of all the media,” said Matt.
“They are, and have been for a while.”
Clarissa was shocked by his reaction. “Your bank details have been hacked or your share dealing account or something else?”
“Neither,” he said. “Maybe both. My webcam and phone. God knows what else.” Clarissa and Matt both looked confused. “I was paranoid about it, but put it down to that. Paranoia.”
“That’s probably what it is. The media haven’t hacked you. I’m sure of that. Don’t worry,” said Matt.
“Of course I’m bloody worried. They are still hacking me.”
“Have you looked?” asked Matt.
“Yes, I’ve looked but can’t find anything,” said Daniel “Can you have another look on Life’s Journal. A bloke from work said it was there.”
Matt pulled out his phone. “I will type your name in to see what comes up. Did he say what it was called or if it was your name?”
“I did but he won’t help,” said Daniel as he walked across the kitchen. Standing in front of the cooker he felt his arm warm. The ring on the electric cooker glowing red. Matt had left it on. Daniel held his hand over the ring, radiating his palm until it turned red. He turned off the cooker.
“I can’t find anything,” said Matt as he put his phone on the work surface and began to eat his breakfast. Whilst dipping toast into a soft egg Matt questioned the reliability of where Daniel got his information. “Are you sure it’s not a wind up? A joke at work?”
“It’s not a joke,” said Daniel. “At first that’s all I thought it could be, but believe me it’s no joke. I’ve had too many strange reactions.”
“Has anyone told you anything?” asked his mother. “What type of strange reactions?”
“No. Some are negative reactions. Actually I would class it all as negative but some are worse than others. No one has given clear details.”
“If you can try to relax, we will see how things pan out,” she said.
“Okay,” he said. He could see the concern his mother had for him.
“It’s understandable that you’re anxious but you can’t do anything at the moment,” she said. “Stop using your computer for now.”
“I have. I’m never using it again,” he replied.
Matt walked to the kitchen door. “Try not to worry,” he called back.
“I’ll try,” said Daniel.
Daniel did try to forget about it. He went for a run, refuelled with a salmon salad ready for a resistance training session. Following the exercise he set up a canvas. He had produced a few pieces of art a number of years ago, and he remembered how relaxing it was. The calmness of gliding a brush across the sheet leaving behind an exuberant mix of colour. Creating a landscape, exaggerating the red sky of a sunset or a moody cloud formation. Art in which he could transcend into the detail of the world he was creating. He painted a purple sky with a low morning sun, bright and yellow in the centre of the canvas. A pink hue surrounding was where he finished. He left it incomplete and decided to finish the art another day. The picture was left wanting, needing, much the same as his mind.
Later that night he watched the TV, sipping a sweet mug of honey that he clasped with both hands. A comedy news programme he often watched had changed. The beginning sequence now contained the same gestures people had been directing at him all week. The poking out
Similar Books
