The End of Terrorism Page 4
Hello I am Trish and I have no life. All day I code because I love the logic of programming. I love the repetitious nature of the work and like that I am talking to the computer, and the computer responds in kind.
I have, had hard time being in relationship. Maybe, because I am a loner. By the time I set my eye on a sail, I think on how to get there. I float, I swim but I drift, and when I get there it is nothing but the cold sea and the wind. I have meditated the fantasy of flight, to run away from this melancholy sea, to the inner caverns of the barren mountains. Trish kept on thinking these thoughts.
She kept one foot in the world of programming and the other in the yoke of cheap of novels. It was her port royal of sorts.
She wanted to leave but was forced to the confines by the intellectual challenge of programming and the fun of talking to folks all over the world.
No sensitivity, no roughness, it delivers the pleasure, that touches my soul. Actually speaking, I am so drowned in this because I do not have any confidence in making friends with anyone particularly men.
Men are kind of weird: as they are too much hassle if you know what I mean. For God’s sake, who wants to invest so much time in goof balls. Any way my days are dedicated to programming and my nights find me transformed into call girl. Not that type but the type that works at a high tech call center where I can speak in accents foreign to me but it is so much fun.
One night I speak like I am a Georgian and thank Yall. The other night I talk like heh Mak how are you. It gives me joy to bring on personalities and speak wild. Who needs coffee when my brain generates all the good stuff by itself. I would say I am an addict or workaholic but close enough.
Did I say, I do have romantic inclination but what do I mean by that. My idea of wild time is to have passion at a distance. I am driven wild by imagination and actually don’t believe the pleasure is any less even though the distance is kept.
Many a times I meet a co worker also a fellow impersonator of tongues. I like and we talk, and we talk, and we get close enough, but we don’t touch. The words are erotic and the eyes do the job and we say very little and let the chemistry do the math.
Trish was excited that she had been assigned to work with the visiting engineering team from Omega. Trish had developed several ideas on identification, intrusion detection and prevention of worm ware.
She had developed here own game similar to sudoku where she would compile rapidly the patterns in a string of code and detect alien patterns. She published her games and challenges in the call center daily and was recognized as a talented developer of antidotes for spyware and malware patches.
She participated on worldwide blogs on wormware and malware Special users group and always led interesting discussions. One of her discussion was could mobile operating systems be immune to attacks. Omega corp tracked some of her works proactively, as they had multi billion dollar handset market at stake.
Though Omega never commented or blogged on such websites they did have a few software detectives on the development.
Trish’s biological clock was ticking away and she knew it.
John liked Trish very much. He always wanted to tell her. Seated next to her office in the call center he many a times approached her. Trish would gently stroke her hair and run her fingers through it while speaking to John. John would become fixated at her eyes. Round. Hazel. Millions of nerve endings were involved in creating the sensation and minute changes in her complexion and flutter of the eyes would send John speechless. Every time he felt drawn to her but his tongue escaped his mouth and words drowned in the sea of ecstasy. He felt her attraction was as if she was the car ahead of him and he was the driver of a 52 Chevy, right behind , desperately applying brakes, and still drift into the car ahead.
Chapter Five
Sheri’s World