Wednesday 31st Jan 2018

I woke to the sounds of Layla and Tessa having a momentous discussion outside my bedroom door. And by ‘discussion’ I mean the top-of-your-voice kind.

“But why not the glass box? I mean most of it is glass.” Layla’s voice was at twice its normal volume.

“Because not all of it is glass, and anyway it's the wrong kind-”

“And surely putting it in the recycling box is better than just throwing it in the bin.”

“Now Layla, you’re falling prey to the common misconception about these old, incandescent light bulbs, namely that due to the fact that they contain glass, they must be recyclable as such, when in fact-“

“And I thought we agreed that you weren’t going to interfere in other people’s lives any longer.”

“Correcting somebody’s mistaken actions with regard to the disposal of waste could hardly be construed as interfering in their life. I mean, how little self-respect do you have to have to take friendly advice regarding proper recycling habits the wrong way?”

“Let’s ask Penny about her self-respect, shall we? Oh, that’s right, we can’t because she moved out after you bullied her one too many times!”

“Oh really, Layla, bullying? I’m just trying to care for the planet and maintain a pleasant home environment.”

“You’d better not scare Sophie away. It took me long enough to find someone to take the room. And I like her.”

“Sophie is-“

At this point, I decided was time to intercede before I ended up overhearing something I’d prefer not to. Swinging my bedroom door wide, I called cheerfully “Morning girls!”

They were facing off in the kitchen doorway. Tessa’s glasses had steamed up in the heat of the moment. Layla turned to me with a guilty expression. “Sorry, Sophie, did we wake you up? We were just saying that we like you better than our old flatmate. Weren’t we Tessa?” She nudged the shorter girl who glared at her.

I decided honesty was the best policy. “Guys, the door is pretty thin and I heard most of what you said. Maybe we should just get this straight. Tessa, I promise to follow the recycling scheme. Layla, I promise not to get upset if Tessa is a bit more enthusiastic about recycling that other people might be. How’s that?”

Tessa beamed. “It’s nice to meet someone who understands the importance of both recycling and diplomacy. Here, let me show you the system…”

Smothering a sigh, I allowed her to guide me through yet another impeccably organised and colour coded household scheme. While we were in the middle of the rules for recycling batteries and other tricky items, she glanced at her watch. “Hell, is that the time?! I’ve got to get to the lab!” She rushed off like a dark-haired maelstrom.

Layla, who had vanished at the first mention of our ‘three-tiered sorting arrangement’, re-emerged from her room. She poured herself some coffee from the pot and joined me at the kitchen table. “I knew you’d fit in well here,” she grinned. “You’ve got a knack with people.”

I brushed off the compliment. “As far as I can see, Tessa just wants everything to function at maximum efficiency, including the household.”

She laughed. “Got it in one! But our last housemate, Penny, didn’t like anyone telling her what to do. She took Tessa’s lectures the wrong way.”

She continued chatting about various things, but my mind wandered back to the question of a costume for the video game convention. I hadn’t come to any conclusions last night and now I was getting short of time if I wanted to attempt anything complicated…

I jerked back to reality when Layla waved her hand in my face. “Sorry I was miles away.”

“More like light years. Something on your mind?”

I paused, unsure how much to share. “Put it this way… I need to go to a place in order to find a guy, but it’s the kind of place where people wear costumes…”

Her eyes lit up. “Costumes?”

And that, Dear Diary, is how it was decided that Layla would be attending Enchantercon with me.

Later…

Layla insisted we didn’t need any costumes. She also called the convention organisers and arranged press tickets for us, which just shows how helpless I would have been by myself. The question of needing a ticket (let alone paying for one) hadn’t even occurred to me. I also assumed we’d be fairly incognito with our press personas. After all, Layla would be taking her camera to make us seem even more legit. But the problem was that I’d had so much exposure to Layla by now that I’d kind of forgotten that she looks like an Elf Queen. Blending in turned out to be the exact opposite of what happened. From the moment we arrived, she was mobbed with enthusiasts greeting her in real Elvish, asking whether it was her natural hair colour (she said it is) and other such obsession-fuelled enquiries.

On the bright side, while she was keeping the geek vanguard busy, I had a chance to slip away on my own mission. I wove through the various stalls with their displays of comic memorabilia and dodged around groups of mages and orcs standing deep in discussion. Finding a couple of normal-looking people, I asked whether either of them knew where to find “Ethan” and was directed to a nearby podium where a virtual battle was taking place. Ethan turned out to be a guy with messy brown hair, a neat goatee and thick-framed glasses. Controller in hand, he was beating the crap out of the guy next to him in the retro, Mortal Kombat-type game they were playing. Standing in the midst of the fervoured crowd was intimidating to say the least, even if (as I reassured myself) they were only yelling for virtual blood. It was a huge relief when Ethan’s avatar kicked his opponent in the head one last time and “Fatality” was declared. Ethan turned to face them, raising his skinny arms in victory, revealing impressive sweat patches in the armpits of his Super-Mario t-shirt. After sufficient boisterous cheering, the congratulations and back-slapping died down and the crowd mostly dispersed. I attempted to insinuate myself between Ethan and a guy with long, greasy hair who was babbling about the comparative virtues of various kick combinations. Ethan glanced at me then looked away. Then the fact that I was female filtered into his consciousness and he looked again. Clapping the greaseball on the back, he gave him a gentle shove. “I’ll see you later man, alright?” Turning to me, he bared his teeth. “Well hello there.”

“Hi, that was a great game!” I did my best to look how I imagined a video game groupie might. “I loved that special move you did, with the kick and the, the thing…” I floundered.

Ethan’s smile didn’t falter. “Yeah, thanks. So why are you really here?”

Busted!

Well at least he’s smart.

Note to self: Do background research before attempting impersonations.

There was clearly nothing to gain in keeping up the pretence so I got straight to the point. “Simon sent me. He said you might be able to help me out with a little… data retrieval problem.”

Ethan’s eyebrows had shot up at the mention of Simon’s name. “You need a hacker, huh?” He looked at me speculatively. “So what’s in it for me?”

Damn! That pesky question of payment had struck again. I considered my options.

1. Ethan probably wouldn’t be interested in money. And even if he was, I didn’t have any to offer.

2. I wasn’t going to sleep with him. Even for the sake of solving the mystery.

3. Perhaps I could appeal to his pride?

“Well it’d surely be a test of your hacking abilities,” I said. “I mean have you ever hacked into a university server before?”

Lame, Sophie!

Note to self: …stop being so rubbish!

Ethan must have concurred on the lameness because he smacked his hand over his face. No really, Dear Diary, he actually facepalmed. I’ve never seen anyone do that in real life before.

“Oh come on!” he groaned. “The university? Not another ‘grade correction’ problem.” his fingers came up to make quote marks. I had the distinct feeling that this guy had watched too many cartoons.

“No, actually I want you to find out why my student record was wiped from the system,” I said. “I think it might have been done by another hacker but I need help finding the digital trail.”

He looked sharply at me when I mentioned another hacker. “Ok, you’ve got my attention. Any idea who it was?”

“I only know a bit about who it wasn’t. I’m pretty sure that the university didn’t have anything to do with it. They seemed confused when I complained about being kicked out.”

He stared thoughtfully into space, stroking his goatee with one hand. He’d probably practised that pose at home. “Alright,” he snapped his fingers. “Write me your student details and a contact number and I’ll see what I can find.”

“Hi!” An excited Layla popped up next to me. Apparently she’d given her elven following the slip. Her eyes were bright and she was practically bouncing in excitement. “Oh Sophie you should see some of the photos I got. All these geeks in costumes. Am-aaaaaa-zing.”

“Photos?” Ethan looked interested. “Hey, are you the one who called about press passes?”

“That was me, yes.” Layla beamed at him.

“And you’ve got usable images of the convention?”

She held up her camera. “Photos, videos, collages. Well, I will have collages as soon as I go home and put them together.”

“And which magazine are you affiliated with?”

Layla suddenly stopped bouncing and became business-like. “I’m a freelance visual narrative creator. If you’re interested in my material I’d be happy to let you review it and we can discuss a collaboration.” Letting the camera dangle on its strap, she fished a professional-looking business card out of her handbag and presented it to him.

Ethan took the card and studied it. “And are you good at social media?”

“I’ve built my own portfolio and I maintain my professional media accounts. What are you thinking of exactly?”

“I need someone to handle promotion of the convention,” said Ethan gesturing to indicate the surroundings. “As you can see, it’s going pretty well. We get a lot of visitors, but I’d like to attract more. We need a Facebook page and an Instagram profile and possibly some other stuff, but I honestly cannot be arsed with that bollocks and I want to hire some idiot who can do it for me. I mean…” he added hastily as Layla’s face darkened, “someone who’s talented in that area and can handle the stuff that I’m too busy to bother with… I mean, do.”

“I can kind of picture you being useless with social media,” said Layla dryly.

“I can vouch for him being useless,” I chimed in helpfully. “It was bloody hard to find anything online about Enchantercon.”

“Yeah yeah, I’m a social media moron,” snapped Ethan. “So what can you offer me?”

Layla looked amused and drew him a short distance away where they discussed intently for several minutes. Meanwhile I congratulated myself on having successfully evaded the question of payment. Ethan surely couldn’t demand recompense after I’d introduced him to his new publicity manager. Judging by Layla’s past projects, she’ll have taken thousands of photos of this event and will be able to make the convention look more thrilling and magical than Disneyland.

I might even feel put out about living with such a stunning and talented girl if I weren’t profiting heavily from the association.

Anyway, they talked for hours, then there was another round of heartfelt goodbyes from the elven crew before I managed to drag Layla away. Before we left I wrote down my old student number and a few more details for Ethan to get started with.

Hacker deployed!