FRATE PETI
1. Scola · 2. Esplode · 3. Aresta · 4. Prison · 5. Paranoia · 6. Rede X · 7. Spleno-Porco · 8. Paradox · 9. Furgon · 10. Claves · 11. Slogan
12. Conserta · 13. Jornales · 14. Bitnic · 15. Enrolada · 16. Reportor · 17. Tuneli · 18. Juas · 19. Vampires · 20. Tortura · 21. Judi · Epiloga

1. Scola

Me es un studiante de anio final a la liseo Cesar Chavez en la Distrito Mision solosa de San Francisco, e par esta causa me es un de la persones la plu oservada en la mundo. Mea nom es Marcus Yallow, ma alora cuando esta raconta comensa, me ia usa la alias w1n5t0n. Pronunsiada como “Winston”.

I’m a senior at Cesar Chavez high in San Francisco’s sunny Mission district, and that makes me one of the most surveilled people in the world. My name is Marcus Yallow, but back when this story starts, I was going by w1n5t0n. Pronounced “Winston.”

No pronunsiada como “Wa-un-en-sinco-te-zero-en” – estra si on es un ofisior stupida de disiplina ci es tan nonmoderna ce on nomi ancora la interede “la autovia de informas”.

Not pronounced “Double-you-one-enn-five-tee-zero-enn” – unless you’re a clueless disciplinary officer who’s far enough behind the curve that you still call the Internet “the information superhighway.”

Me conose un person esata tan stupida, e sua nom es Fred Benson, un de tre visxefes a Cesar Chavez. Como un umana, el sembla un feri sucante de peto. Ma si on debe ave un gardor, prefere un stupida ca un person vera astuta.

I know just such a clueless person, and his name is Fred Benson, one of three vice-principals at Cesar Chavez. He’s a sucking chest wound of a human being. But if you’re going to have a jailer, better a clueless one than one who’s really on the ball.

“Marcus Yallow.” – el ia dise tra la parladores a un matina de venerdi. La parladores es ja no multe bon, e cuando on combina esta con la farfulia abitual de Benson, on ave un efeto cual sona plu simil a algun ci batalia per dijesta un mal burito ca un anunsia de scola. Ma umanas pote bon reconose sua nomes tra un caos audio – lo es un cualia de survivor.

“Marcus Yallow,” he said over the PA one Friday morning. The PA isn’t very good to begin with, and when you combine that with Benson’s habitual mumble, you get something that sounds more like someone struggling to digest a bad burrito than a school announcement. But human beings are good at picking their names out of audio confusion – it’s a survival trait.

Me ia saisi mea bolson e ia clui a tre cuatris mea computador portable – me no ia desira ruina mea descargas – e ia prepara me per la nonevitable.

I grabbed my bag and folded my laptop three-quarters shut – I didn’t want to blow my downloads – and got ready for the inevitable.

“Presenta tu pronto a la ofisia de maneja.”

“Report to the administration office immediately.”

Mea ensenior de studias sosial, Sra Galvez, ia rola sua oios a me e me ia rerola mea oios a el. La sistem ia es sempre puninte me, mera car me pasa tra parafocos de scola como paper moiada, engana la reconosadores de pasea, e coce la microtelias denunsiante par cual on trasa nos. Galvez es de bon tipo, an tal, nunca condenante me per esta (spesial cuando me aida el a comprende sua epostador ueb afin el pote parla a sua frate ci es stasionida en Irac).

My social studies teacher, Ms Galvez, rolled her eyes at me and I rolled my eyes back at her. The Man was always coming down on me, just because I go through school firewalls like wet kleenex, spoof the gait-recognition software, and nuke the snitch chips they track us with. Galvez is a good type, anyway, never holds that against me (especially when I’m helping get with her webmail so she can talk to her brother who’s stationed in Iraq).

Mea ami Darryl ia colpeta mea culo cuando me ia pasa el. Me conose Darryl de cuando nos ia es ancora en teletas de bebe e evadente la prescola, e me ia tira el a e de culpablia tra la tempo intera. Me ia leva mea brasos supra mea testa como un boxor e ia fa mea sorti de Studias Sosial per comensa la marxa vergoniante a la ofisia.

My boy Darryl gave me a smack on the ass as I walked past. I’ve known Darryl since we were still in diapers and escaping from play-school, and I’ve been getting him into and out of trouble the whole time. I raised my arms over my head like a prizefighter and made my exit from Social Studies and began the perp-walk to the office.

Me ia traversa un dui de la via cuando mea telefon ia sona. Esta ia es un plu tabu – telefones es muy prohibido a Liseo Chavez – ma perce esta ta impedi me? Me ia tufa a la saleta privata e ia clui me en la stala media (la stala la plu distante es sempre la plu repulsante car tan multe persones vade direta a lo, esperante evade la odor e la iu – la apostas esperiosa e la bon ijien eleje la media). Me ia regarda la telefon – mea computador de casa ia envia a lo un eposta per informa lo ce alga cosa nova aveni en Joia Loco Harajuku, cual es, en pasa, la jua la plu bon inventada de sempre.

I was halfway there when my phone went. That was another no-no – phones are muy prohibido at Chavez High – but why should that stop me? I ducked into the toilet and shut myself in the middle stall (the furthest stall is always grossest because so many people head straight for it, hoping to escape the smell and the squick – the smart money and good hygiene is down the middle). I checked the phone – my home PC had sent it an email to tell it that there was something new up on Harajuku Fun Madness, which happens to be the best game ever invented.

Me ia surie forte. Spende un venerdi en scola ia es ja cacin, e me ia es felisida par esta escusa per fa mea fuji.

I grinned. Spending Fridays at school was teh suck anyway, and I was glad of the excuse to make my escape.

Me ia pasea osiosa tra la via restante a la ofisia de Benson e ia lansa a el un saluta de mano en lisca tra la porte.

I ambled the rest of the way to Benson’s office and tossed him a wave as I sailed through the door.

“E asi el es: Wa-un-en-sinco-te-zero-en.” – el ia dise. Frederick Benson – numero de securia sosial: 545-03-2343; data de nase: 15 agosto 1962; nom nonsposida de madre: Di Bona; vila de nase: Petaluma – es multe plu alta ca me. Me es un sucreseda con 173 sentimetres, ma el sta alta de du metres, e sua dias como bascetbalor a universia es tan pasada ce sua musculos de peto ia deveni mamelas mas pendente e xocante evidente tra sua camisas de polo, donada sin custa par companias enlinia. El aspeta sempre como si el es a punto de bate algun, e el gusta vera coleri sua vose per efetos dramosa. Ambos de estas comensa perde sua eficasia pos aplicas repeteda.

“If it isn’t Double-you-one-enn-five-tee-zero-enn,” he said. Fredrick Benson – Social Security number 545-03-2343, date of birth August 15 1962, mother’s maiden name Di Bona, hometown Petaluma – is a lot taller than me. I’m a runty 5’8”, while he stands 6’7”, and his college basketball days are far enough behind him that his chest muscles have turned into saggy man-boobs that were painfully obvious through his freebie dot-com polo-shirts. He always looks like he’s about to slam-dunk your ass, and he’s really into raising his voice for dramatic effect. Both these start to lose their efficacy with repeated application.

“Pardona, ma no.” – me ia dise. “Me ia oia nunca sur esta tua carater R2D2.”

“Sorry, nope,” I said. “I never heard of this R2D2 character of yours.”

“W1n5t0n.” – el ia dise, denova spelente lo. El ia regarda me tra sua siles, espetante mea debili. Natural, lo ia es mea alias, e ja tra anios. Lo ia es la identia usada par me en mea postas a foros do me ia fa mea contribuis a la campo de rexerca de securia aplicada. Tu sabe: per esemplo, sorti furtiva de scola e descomuta la gardador-trasador en mea telefon. Ma el no ia sabe ce esta es mea alias. Sola un cuantia peti de persones ia sabe, e me ia fida tota los asta la fini de la tera.

“W1n5t0n,” he said, spelling it out again. He gave me a hairy eyeball and waited for me to wilt. Of course it was my handle, and had been for years. It was the identity I used when I was posting on message-boards where I was making my contributions to the field of applied security research. You know, like sneaking out of school and disabling the minder-tracer on my phone. But he didn’t know that this was my handle. Only a small number of people did, and I trusted them all to the end of the earth.

“Em, lo no evoca.” – me ia dise. Me ia fa ja alga cosas sufisinte popular en la scola su esta alias – me ia es multe orgulosa de mea labora sur desativadores de la eticetas denunsiante – e si el ta pote lia la du identias, me ta ave un problem. Nun en la scola ia nomi me w1n5t0n o an Winston a cualce tempo. An no mea amis. Mea nom ia es Marcus e no otra.

“Um, not ringing any bells,” I said. I’d done some pretty cool stuff around school using that handle – I was very proud of my work on snitch-tag killers – and if he could link the two identities, I’d be in trouble. No one at school ever called me w1n5t0n or even Winston. Not even my pals. It was Marcus or nothing.

Benson ia comforta se pos sua table e ia clace nervosa sua anelo de gradua sur la covreburo. El fa sempre esta cuando un situa comensa deveni mal per el. Pocerores nomi un tal ata un “revelante” – un cosa cual permete sabe cua aveni en la testa de la otra xice. Me ia pote lista en ambos dirijes la revelantes de Benson.

Benson settled down behind his desk and tapped his class-ring nervously on his blotter. He did this whenever things started to go bad for him. Poker players call stuff like this a “tell” – something that let you know what was going on in the other guy’s head. I knew Benson’s tells backwards and forwards.

“Marcus, me espera ce tu comprende como grave esta es.”

“Marcus, I hope you realize how serious this is.”

“Me va comprende direta cuando tu esplica cua esta es, senior.” Me dise sempre “senior” a figures de autoria cuando me jua con los. Lo es mea propre revelante.

“I will just as soon as you explain what this is, sir.” I always say “sir” to authority figures when I’m messing with them. It’s my own tell.

El ia nega a me con sua testa e ia basi sua regarda, un plu revelante. Pos esta-o-acel secondo, el va comensa cria a me. “Escuta, xico! Aora es cuando tu va fronti la fato ce nos es consensa cua tu ia fa, e ce nos no va es pardonosa en relata. Tu va es fortunosa si tu no es espulsada ante la fini de esta intervisa. Esce tu desira gradua?”

He shook his head at me and looked down, another tell. Any second now, he was going to start shouting at me. “Listen, kiddo! It’s time you came to grips with the fact that we know about what you’ve been doing, and that we’re not going to be lenient about it. You’re going to be lucky if you’re not expelled before this meeting is through. Do you want to graduate?”

“Sr Benson, tu ancora no ia esplica cua es la problem —”

“Mr Benson, you still haven’t explained what the problem is –”

El ia pumi sua mano sur la buro ante punta sua dito a me. “La problem, Sr Yallow, es ce tu ia partisipa en conspira criminal per suverti la sistem de securia en esta scola, e tu ia furni a tua costudiantes modos de descapasi la securia. Tu sabe ce nos ia espulsa Graciella Uriarte en la semana pasada car el ia usa un de tua aparatos.” Uriarte ia reseta un critica nonmeritada. El ia compra un radiointerferador de un boteca de drogas prosima a la stasion de metro Strada 16, e lo ia gatili la aparatos contratatical en la atrio de la scola. No fada par me, ma me ia compatia el.

He slammed his hand down on the desk and then pointed his finger at me. “The problem, Mr Yallow, is that you’ve been engaged in criminal conspiracy to subvert this school’s security system, and you have supplied security countermeasures to your fellow students. You know that we expelled Graciella Uriarte last week for using one of your devices.” Uriarte had gotten a bad rap. She’d bought a radio-jammer from a head-shop near the 16th Street BART station and it had set off the countermeasures in the school hallway. Not my doing, but I felt for her.

“E tu crede ce me es envolveda en acel?”

“And you think I’m involved in that?”

“Nos ave informas fidable cual indica ce tu es w1n5t0n.” Denova el ia pronunsia la spele, e me ia comensa demanda a me esce el no ia dedui ce la 1 es un I e la 5 es un S. “Nos sabe ce esta carater w1n5t0n es culpable per la fura de la esaminas normida de la anio pasada.” En fato, acel no ia es me, ma lo ia es un rus dulse, e la descovre ce on ia atribui lo a me ia es un spesie de loda. “E donce punable con alga anios en prison si tu no colabora con me.”

“We have reliable intelligence indicating that you are w1n5t0n” – again, he spelled it out, and I began to wonder if he hadn’t figured out that the 1 was an I and the 5 was an S. “We know that this w1n5t0n character is responsible for the theft of last year’s standardized tests.” That actually hadn’t been me, but it was a sweet hack, and it was kind of flattering to hear it attributed to me. “And therefore liable for several years in prison unless you cooperate with me.”

“Tu ave ‘informas fidable’? Me ta gusta vide los.”

“You have ‘reliable intelligence’? I’d like to see it.”

El ia grima a me. “Tua disposa no va aida tu.”

He glowered at me. “Your attitude isn’t going to help you.”

“Si on ave atestas, senior, me opina ce tu debe clama la polisia e presenta los. Lo sona como si esta es un cosa multe grave, e me no ta desira impedi un investiga conveninte par la autoriosas formal constituida.”

“If there’s evidence, sir, I think you should call the police and turn it over to them. It sounds like this is a very serious matter, and I wouldn’t want to stand in the way of a proper investigation by the duly constituted authorities.”

“Tu vole ce me clama la polisia.”

“You want me to call the police.”

“E mea jenitores, me pensa. Esta ta es la plu bon.”

“And my parents, I think. That would be for the best.”

Nos ia regarda lunlotra supra la table. Clar, el ia espeta ce me va sede instante cuando el ia cade la bomba sur me. Me no sede. Me ave un truco per vinse cuando algun como Benson fisa sua oios a me. Me regarda pico a sinistra de sua testa, e pensa a la testos de cantas vea de folclor eres, de la spesie con tresento strofes. Esta fa ce me aspeta perfeta calma e nonansiosa.

We stared at each other across the desk. He’d clearly expected me to fold the second he dropped the bomb on me. I don’t fold. I have a trick for staring down people like Benson. I look slightly to the left of their heads, and think about the lyrics to old Irish folk songs, the kinds with three hundred verses. It makes me look perfectly composed and unworried.

E la ala sur la avia e la avia sur la ovo e la ovo en la nido e la nido sur la folia e la folia sur la basteta e la basteta sur la ramo e la ramo sur la ramon e la ramon en la arbor e la arbor en la pantan – la pantan en la vale-o! He-o, la bon pantan, la pantan en la vale-o –

And the wing was on the bird and the bird was on the egg and the egg was in the nest and the nest was on the leaf and the leaf was on the twig and the twig was on the branch and the branch was on the limb and the limb was in the tree and the tree was in the bog – the bog down in the valley-oh! High-ho the rattlin’ bog, the bog down in the valley-oh –

“Tu pote aora revade a tua leson.” – el ia dise. “Me va clama tu cuando la polisia es preparada per parla con tu.”

“You can return to class now,” he said. “I’ll call on you once the police are ready to speak to you.”

“Tu va telefoni a la polisia aora?”

“Are you going to call them now?”

“La prosede per clama la polisia es complicada. Me ia espera ce nos va pote solve esta en modo justa e rapida, ma car tu insiste —”

“The procedure for calling in the police is complicated. I’d hoped that we could settle this fairly and quickly, but since you insist –”

“Me pote resta asi en cuando tu telefoni, mera.” – me ia dise. “Lo no irita me.”

“I can wait while you call them is all,” I said. “I don’t mind.”

El ia clace denova sua anelo e me ia reforti me per la esplode.

He tapped his ring again and I braced for the blast.

“Vade!” el ia ruji. “Txa, sorti de mea ofisia, tu misera peti de —”

“Go!” he yelled. “Get the hell out of my office, you miserable little –”

Me ia sorti, manteninte mea espresa neutra. El no va clama la polisia. Si el ia ta ave atestas sufisinte per mostra a polisiores, el ia ta clama los a la comensa. El ia odia vasta me. Me ia suposa ce el ia oia alga rumor nonserta e ia espera es tan asustante ce me ta confirma lo.

I got out, keeping my expression neutral. He wasn’t going to call the cops. If he’d had enough evidence to go to the police with, he would have called them in the first place. He hated my guts. I figured he’d heard some unverified gossip and hoped to spook me into confirming it.

Me ia move ajil e lejera longo la coredor, manteninte pasos egal e regulada per la cameras de reconose de pasea. On ia instala estas a sola un anio a ante, e me ia ama los per sua stupidia completa. Presedente, nos ia ave cameras de reconose de fas supra cuasi cada spasio publica en la scola, ma un corte ia judi ce esta es nonconstituin. Donce Benson e multe otra manejores paranoica de la scola ia spende nosa dolares de libros per esta cameras cretin, suposante ce los pote distingui la pasea de un person de lo de un otra. Si, tal.

I moved down the corridor lightly and sprightly, keeping my gait even and measured for the gait-recognition cameras. These had been installed only a year before, and I loved them for their sheer idiocy. Beforehand, we’d had face-recognition cameras covering nearly every public space in school, but a court ruled that was unconstitutional. So Benson and a lot of other paranoid school administrators had spent our textbook dollars on these idiot cameras that were supposed to be able to tell one person’s walk from another. Yeah, right.

Me ia reateni la leson e ia senta denova, con un plu bonveni zelosa de Sra Galvez. Me ia despaci la macina tipal de la scola e ia reentra a la moda de sala de clase. La PortaScolas ia es la tecnolojia la plu denunsiante de tota, notante cada tecli, monitorinte tota la trafica de rede per termas suspetable, contante cada clica, teninte un trasa de cada pensa tempora cual on envia tra la rede. Nos ia reseta los en mea anio tre, e sola un o du menses ia pasa ante la gasta de la brilia. Cuando on ia comprende ce esta portables “sin custa” labora per la sistem – e mostra ance un parade nunca sesante de comersiales ofendente – on ia comensa subita senti ce los es multe pesosa e cargosa.

I got back to class and sat down again, Ms Galvez warmly welcoming me back. I unpacked the school’s standard-issue machine and got back into classroom mode. The SchoolBooks were the snitchiest technology of them all, logging every keystroke, watching all the network traffic for suspicious keywords, counting every click, keeping track of every fleeting thought you put out over the net. We’d gotten them in my junior year, and it only took a couple months for the shininess to wear off. Once people figured out that these “free” laptops worked for the man – and showed a never-ending parade of obnoxious ads to boot – they suddenly started to feel very heavy and burdensome.

Craci mea PortaScola ia es fasil. La program de craci ia es enlinia en min ca un mense de la apare de la macina, e lo ia presenta no difisiles – descarga mera la imaje de un DVD, scrive lo a disco, pone lo en la PortaScola, e inisia lo, presante un colie de teclas diversa a la mesma tempo. La DVD ia completi la taxe, instalante tota un colie de programes ascondeda en la macina, programes cual va resta ascondeda an cuando la Comite Educal fa sua teledetetas dial de la bonstate de la macinas. De ves a ves, me ia debe oteni un refresci de la programes per sircoveni la probas la plu resente de la Comite, ma esta ia es un paia peti per ave alga controla de la computador.

Cracking my SchoolBook had been easy. The crack was online within a month of the machine showing up, and there was nothing to it – just download a DVD image, burn it, stick it in the SchoolBook, and boot it while holding down a bunch of different keys at the same time. The DVD did the rest, installing a whole bunch of hidden programs on the machine, programs that would stay hidden even when the Board of Ed did its daily remote integrity checks of the machines. Every now and again I had to get an update for the software to get around the Board’s latest tests, but it was a small price to pay to get a little control over the box.

Me ia inisia MeSajeParanoica, la program secreta de mesaje instante cual me usa cuando me desira fa un discute nonrejistrada en media mesma de un leson. Darryl ia entra ja.

I fired up IMParanoid, the secret instant messenger that I used when I wanted to have an off-the-record discussion right in the middle of class. Darryl was already logged in.

> La jua vade! Cosas grande aveni en Joia Loco Harajuku, xic’. Tu va veni?

> The game’s afoot! Something big is going down with Harajuku Fun Madness, dude. You in?

> No. De. Enferno. Si on catura me en evita a un ves tre, me va es espulsada. Xic’, tu sabe lo. Nos va vade pos scola.

> No. Freaking. Way. If I get caught ditching a third time, I’m expelled. Man, you know that. We’ll go after school.

> Tu fa la come media e la salon de studia a pos, si? Tu ave du oras. Tempo sufisinte per trasa esta avisa e reveni ante cuando cualcun nota la manca. Me va apare tota la ecipo.

> You’ve got lunch and then study-hall, right? That’s two hours. Plenty of time to run down this clue and get back before anyone misses us. I’ll get the whole team out.

Joia Loco Harajuku es la jua la plu bon creada de sempre. Me sabe ce me ia dise ja esta, ma lo tolera la repete. Lo es un JuReAl, un Jua de Realia Alternativa, e la raconta es ce un gang de adolesentes modosa japanes ia descovre un jem de sani miraclosa a la templo en Harajuku, cual es fundal la loca do adolesentes fresca japanes ia inventa cada sucultur major de la des anios pasada. Los es xasada par monces malvolente, la Yakuza (acc. la mafia japanes), estrateranes, impostores, jenitores, e un inteleto artifis tradosa. On pasa a la juores mesajes sifrida cual nos debe desifri e usa per trasa avisas cual gida a plu mesajes sifrida e plu avisas.

Harajuku Fun Madness is the best game ever made. I know I already said that, but it bears repeating. It’s an ARG, an Alternate Reality Game, and the story goes that a gang of Japanese fashion-teens discovered a miraculous healing gem at the temple in Harajuku, which is basically where cool Japanese teenagers invented every major subculture for the past ten years. They’re being hunted by evil monks, the Yakuza (AKA the Japanese mafia), aliens, tax-inspectors, parents, and a rogue artificial intelligence. They slip the players coded messages that we have to decode and use to track down clues that lead to more coded messages and more clues.

Imajina la posmedia la plu bon cual tu ia spende en esplora la stradas de un site, regardante tota la persones strana, la paperes comica de anunsia, la manicas de strada, e la botecas bizara. Ajunta aora ance un jua de foraje, un en cual on debe rexerca filmas e cantas fol e vea e la cultur adolesente de la mundo intera e tra tempo e spasio. E lo es un concurso, en cual la ecipo de cuatro vinsores gania un premio xef de des dias en Tocio, frescinte sur la ponte de Harajuku, gicinte en Akihabara, e reveninte con tota la comprables de Astro Boy cual on ta pote desira. Ma el es nomida “Atom de Braso de Fero” en Japan.

Imagine the best afternoon you’ve ever spent prowling the streets of a city, checking out all the weird people, funny hand-bills, street-maniacs, and funky shops. Now add a scavenger hunt to that, one that requires you to research crazy old films and songs and teen culture from around the world and across time and space. And it’s a competition, with the winning team of four taking a grand prize of ten days in Tokyo, chilling on Harajuku bridge, geeking out in Akihabara, and taking home all the Astro Boy merchandise you can eat. Except that he’s called “Atom Boy” in Japan.

Esta es Joia Loco Harajuku, e pos solve un o du rompetestas, on va regrete nunca.

That’s Harajuku Fun Madness, and once you’ve solved a puzzle or two, you’ll never look back.

> No, xic’, simple no. NO. No demanda an.

> No man, just no. NO. Don’t even ask.

> Me nesesa tu, D. Tu es la plu bon cual me ave. Me jura ce me va entra nos e sorti nos sin ce cualcun sabe. Tu sabe ce me pote, si?

> I need you D. You’re the best I’ve got. I swear I’ll get us in and out without anyone knowing it. You know I can do that, right?

> Me sabe ce tu pote

> I know you can do it

> Donce tu va veni?

> So you’re in?

> Txa no

> Hell no

> Veni, Darryl. Tu no va vade a tua leto de mori con desira ce tu ia pasa plu oras de studia par senta en scola

> Come on, Darryl. You’re not going to your deathbed wishing you’d spent more study periods sitting in school

> Me no va vade a mea leto de mori con desira ce me ia pasa plu tempo en fa JuReAles ance

> I’m not going to go to my deathbed wishing I’d spent more time playing ARGs either

> Si, ma esce tu no pensa ce cisa tu va vade a tua leto de mori con desira ce tu ia pasa plu tempo con Vanessa Pak?

> Yeah but don’t you think you might go to your death-bed wishing you’d spent more time with Vanessa Pak?

Van ia parteni a mea ecipo. El ia vade a un scola privata de xicas en Baia Este, ma me ia sabe ce el va evade per veni e fa la mision con me. Darryl es enamada par el, leteral tra anios – an ante cuando la maturi ia furni a Van multe donadas estravagante. Darryl ia es enamada par sua mente. Triste, vera.

Van was part of my team. She went to a private girl’s school in the East Bay, but I knew she’d ditch to come out and run the mission with me. Darryl has had a crush on her literally for years – even before puberty endowed her with many lavish gifts. Darryl had fallen in love with her mind. Sad, really.

> Tu apesta

> You suck

> Tu va veni?

> You’re coming?

El ia regarda me, movente sua testa en nega. E en acorda a pos. Me ia ginia a el e ia comensa labora per contata la otras en mea ecipo.

He looked at me and shook his head. Then he nodded. I winked at him and set to work getting in touch with the rest of my team.

Me no ia es sempre zelosa sur JuReAles. Me ave un secreta oscur: a ves pasada, me ia es un JuRoViste. Un JuRoVi es un Jua de Rolor Vivente, e lo es plu o min tal como lo sona: on core de asi a ala en vestes fantasin, parla en manera strana, finje ce on es un supraspior o un vampir o un cavalor medieval. Lo es simil a la jua de fura la bandera, monstrin vestida, con ajunta de un pico de club dramal, e la juas la plu bon ia es los cual nos ia fa en campas de scolta estra la urbe en Sonoma o a sude sur la Penisola. Acel epicas de tre dias ia pote deveni alga caososa, con paseas longa de tota la dia, batalias epica con spadas de polistiren e bambu, realinte encantas par lansa sacos de favas e cria “Bal de foco!”, e tal plu. Un bon diverti, an si pico bobo. Serta no tan gicin como parla sur la intendes de sua elfo cuando on senta sirca un table cargada con botes de cola nonzucarida e miniatures pintida, e plu fisical ativa ca sede a la coma de mus ante un jua video enorme multijuoral a casa.

I wasn’t always into ARGing. I have a dark secret: I used to be a LARPer. LARPing is Live Action Role Playing, and it’s just about what it sounds like: running around in costume, talking in a funny accent, pretending to be a super-spy or a vampire or a medieval knight. It’s like Capture the Flag in monster-drag, with a bit of Drama Club thrown in, and the best games were the ones we played in Scout Camps out of town in Sonoma or down on the Peninsula. Those three-day epics could get pretty hairy, with all-day hikes, epic battles with foam-and-bamboo swords, casting spells by throwing beanbags and shouting “Fireball!” and so on. Good fun, if a little goofy. Not nearly as geeky as talking about what your elf planned on doing as you sat around a table loaded with Diet Coke cans and painted miniatures, and more physically active than going into a mouse-coma in front of a massively multiplayer game at home.

Lo cual ia trae me a problemes ia es la minijuas en la oteles. Sempre cuando fanes de naras siensal ia reuni en la site, alga JuRoViste ia convinse on a permete ce nos fa du minijuas de ses oras en la congresa, profitante de la spasio ja luada. La presentia de un grupo de jovenes zelosa, corente de asi a ala en vestes fantasin, ia dona color a la aveni, e nos ia pote joia la diverti entre persones an plu sosial deviante ca nos.

The thing that got me into trouble were the mini-games in the hotels. Whenever a science fiction convention came to town, some LARPer would convince them to let us run a couple of six-hour mini-games at the con, piggybacking on their rental of the space. Having a bunch of enthusiastic kids running around in costume lent color to the event, and we got to have a ball among people even more socially deviant than us.

La problem de oteles es ce los conteni ance multe nonjuores – e no sola fanes de naras siensal. Persones normal. De statos cual comensa e fini con vocales. En vacanse.

The problem with hotels is that they have a lot of non-gamers in them, too – and not just sci-fi people. Normal people. From states that begin and end with vowels. On holidays.

E a veses, esta persones malcomprende la natur de un jua.

And sometimes those people misunderstand the nature of a game.

Ta ce nos clui asi la tema, si?

Let’s just leave it at that, OK?

La leson va fini pos des minutos, e esta no ia lasa me con multe tempo per prepara. La taxe prima en la lista ia pertine a acel cameras iritante de reconose de pasea. Como me ia dise, los ia comensa como cameras de reconose de fas, ma on ia judi ce aceles es nonconstituin. Cuanto me sabe, ancora no corte ia deside esce esta cameras de pasea ave plu legalia, ma asta un tal deside, nos debe vive con los.

Class ended in ten minutes, and that didn’t leave me with much time to prepare. The first order of business were those pesky gait-recognition cameras. Like I said, they’d started out as face-recognition cameras, but those had been ruled unconstitutional. As far as I know, no court has yet determined whether these gait-cams are any more legal, but until they do, we’re stuck with them.

Persones reconose multe bon la maneras de pasea – a tua ves seguente de campa, regarda la osila de la lampa de pox cuando un ami distante prosimi a tu. Probable tu va pote identifia el par sola la move de la lus, la modo tipal en cual lo osila a su e supra, cual informa nosa serebros simial ce esta es un person prosiminte a nos.

“Gait” is a fancy word for the way you walk. People are pretty good at spotting gaits – next time you’re on a camping trip, check out the bobbing of the flashlight as a distant friend approaches you. Chances are you can identify him just from the movement of the light, the characteristic way it bobs up and down that tells our monkey brains that this is a person approaching us.

Un program de reconose de pasea fa fotos de tua moves, atenta isoli tu en la fotos como un silueta, e atenta alora trova un corespondente de la silueta en un banco de datos per deside esce lo sabe ci tu es. Lo es un identifiante biometrial, como trasas de dito o scanes de retina, ma lo ave multe plu “colides” ca cualce de estas. Un “colide” biometrial es cuando un mesura coresponde a plu ca un person. Sola tu ave tua trasa de dito, ma tua manera de pasea es la mesma como de multe otra persones.

Gait recognition software takes pictures of your motion, tries to isolate you in the pics as a silhouette, and then tries to match the silhouette to a database to see if it knows who you are. It’s a biometric identifier, like fingerprints or retina-scans, but it’s got a lot more “collisions” than either of those. A biometric “collision” is when a measurement matches more than one person. Only you have your fingerprint, but you share your gait with plenty other people.

No esata, natural. Tua pasea personal de sentimetre a sentimetre parteni a tu e sola tu. La problem es ce tua pasea de sentimetre a sentimetre cambia dependente de tua fatiga, la materia de la solo, esce tu ia dole tua talo en jua bascetbal, e esce tu ia cambia resente tua sapatos. Donce la sistem nebli alga tua profil, xercante persones ci pasea alga simil a tu.

Not exactly, of course. Your personal, inch-by-inch walk is yours and yours alone. The problem is your inch-by-inch walk changes based on how tired you are, what the floor is made of, whether you pulled your ankle playing basketball, and whether you’ve changed your shoes lately. So the system kind of fuzzes-out your profile, looking for people who walk kind of like you.

On ave multe persones ci pasea alga simil a tu. En ajunta, lo es fasil ce tu pasea nonsimil a tu – desapone simple un sapato. Natural, tu va pasea sempre simil a tu-sin-un-sapato en esta caso, donce la cameras va dedui ultima ce acel es ancora tu. Per esta razona, me prefere injeta un pico de acasia en mea atacas contra la reconose de pasea: me pone un plenimano de calculos en cada sapato. Barata e eficas, e du pasos es nunca la mesma. Plu, on reseta un bon masaje reflexolojial de pede par la prosede. (Me broma. Reflexolojia es aprosima tan siensal usosa como la reconose de pasea.)

There are a lot of people who walk kind of like you. What’s more, it’s easy not to walk kind of like you – just take one shoe off. Of course, you’ll always walk like you-with-one-shoe-off in that case, so the cameras will eventually figure out that it’s still you. Which is why I prefer to inject a little randomness into my attacks on gait-recognition: I put a handful of gravel into each shoe. Cheap and effective, and no two steps are the same. Plus you get a great reflexology foot massage in the process (I kid. Reflexology is about as scientifically useful as gait-recognition).

En la pasada, la cameras ia gatili un alarma sempre cuando algun ci los no reconose ia entra a la compleso.

The cameras used to set off an alert every time someone they didn’t recognize stepped onto campus.

Esta no ia funsiona bon.

This did not work.

La alarma ia sona a cada minuto des. Cuando la postor ia veni. Cuando un jenitor ia visita. Cuando la mantenores ia labora per repara la campo de bascetbal. Cuando un studiante ia apare con sapatos nova.

The alarm went off every ten minutes. When the mailman came by. When a parent dropped in. When the grounds-people went to work fixing up the basketball court. When a student showed up wearing new shoes.

Donce aora lo atenta mera teni un trasa de ci es do, e cuando. Si algun parti tra la portetas de scola en tempo de lesones, sua pasea es esaminada per deside esce lo coresponde en modo neblosa a la pasea de cualce studiante, e si tal, tut-tut-tut, lo sona la alarma!

So now it just tries to keep track of who’s where and when. If someone leaves by the school-gates during classes, their gait is checked to see if it kinda-sorta matches any student gait and if it does, whoop-whoop-whoop, ring the alarm!

Liseo Chavez es ensircada par paserias de calculos. Me gusta teni un o du plenimanos de petras en mea bolson de spala, per caso de nesesa. Me ia dona silente a Darryl des o des-sinco peti bastardos puntida, e ambos nos ia carga nosa sapatos.

Chavez High is ringed with gravel walkways. I like to keep a couple handsful of rocks in my shoulder-bag, just in case. I silently passed Darryl ten or fifteen pointy little bastards and we both loaded our shoes.

La leson ia es a punto de fini – e me ia nota ce me ancora no ia regarda la pajeria de Joia Loco Harajuku per vide la loca de la avisa seguente! Me ia es pico suprafocada a la evade, e no ia recorda descovre a do nos va evade.

Class was about to finish up – and I realized that I still hadn’t checked the Harajuku Fun Madness site to see where the next clue was! I’d been a little hyper-focused on the escape, and hadn’t bothered to figure out where we were escaping to.

Me ia turna a mea PortaScola e ia colpa la teclador. La surfador cual nos ia usa ia es furnida con la macina. Lo ia es un varia restrinjeda e spiante de Internet Explorer, la merda colasante de Microsoft cual no person con min ca 40 anios usa volente.

I turned to my SchoolBook and hit the keyboard. The web-browser we used was supplied with the machine. It was a locked-down spyware version of Internet Explorer, Microsoft’s crashware turd that no one under the age of 40 used voluntarily.

Me ia ave un copia de Firefox en la portadato USB integrada con mea orolojeta, ma esta no ia sufisi – la PortaScola ia funsiona par Windows Vista-Scola, un sistem antica de opera, desiniada per dona a manejores la ilude ce los controla la programes cual sua studiantes pote esecuta.

I had a copy of Firefox on the USB drive built into my watch, but that wasn’t enough – the SchoolBook ran Windows Vista4Schools, an antique operating system designed to give school administrators the illusion that they controlled the programs their students could run.

Ma Vista-Scola es sua propre enemi la plu mal. On ave multe programes sur cual Vista-Scola no vole ce on pote descomuta los – notateclas, sensuradores – e esta programes opera en un moda spesial cual fa ce los es nonvidable en la sistem. On no pote descomuta los car on no pote an vide ce los esiste.

But Vista4Schools is its own worst enemy. There are a lot of programs that Vista4Schools doesn’t want you to be able to shut down – keyloggers, censorware – and these programs run in a special mode that makes them invisible to the system. You can’t quit them because you can’t even see they’re there.

Cualce program con $SYS$ a la comensa de sua nom es nonvidable en la sistem de opera. Lo no apare en listas de la contenidas de la disco, e no en la monitor de prosedes. Donce mea copia de Firefox ia es nomida $SYS$Firefox – e cuando me ia inisia lo, lo ia deveni nonvidable per Windows, e donce nonvidable per la programes spiante en la rede.

Any program whose name starts with $SYS$ is invisible to the operating system. It doesn’t show up on listings of the hard drive, nor in the process monitor. So my copy of Firefox was called $SYS$Firefox – and as I launched it, it became invisible to Windows, and so invisible to the network’s snoopware.

Aora operante un surfador nondependente, me ia nesesa un lia nondependente a la interede. La rede de la scola ia nota cada clica en e tra la sistem, cual ia es problemosa per un person intendente surfa a la pajeria de Joia Loco Harajuku per un diverti noncursal.

Now I had an indie browser running, I needed an indie network connection. The school’s network logged every click in and out of the system, which was bad news if you were planning on surfing over to the Harajuku Fun Madness site for some extra-curricular fun.

La responde es un cosa injeniosa nomida TOR – The Onion Router, “La Endirijador Onionin”. Un endirijador onionin es un loca de interede cual aseta solisitas per pajes ueb e pasa los a otra endirijadores onionin, e plu a otra endirijadores onionin, asta cuando un de los deside final retrae la paje e reenvia lo tra la stratos de la onion asta cuando lo ateni on. La trafica a la endirijadores onionin es sifrida, donce la scola no pote vide cua on solisita, e la stratos de la onion no sabe per ci los labora. On ave miliones de nodas – la program ia es instituida par la Ofisia SUA de Rexerca Marinal per aida sua persones a sircoveni la programes sensurante en paises como Suria e Xina, donce lo es perfeta construida per opera en la restrinjes de un liseo promedia esuan.

The answer is something ingenious called TOR – The Onion Router. An onion router is an Internet site that takes requests for web-pages and passes them onto other onion routers, and on to other onion routers, until one of them finally decides to fetch the page and pass it back through the layers of the onion until it reaches you. The traffic to the onion-routers is encrypted, which means that the school can’t see what you’re asking for, and the layers of the onion don’t know who they’re working for. There are millions of nodes – the program was set up by the US Office of Naval Research to help their people get around the censorware in countries like Syria and China, which means that it’s perfectly designed for operating in the confines of an average American high school.

TOR funsiona car la scola ave un lista negra finita de adirijes turbosa cual nos no pote visita, e la adirijes de la nodas cambia constante – par no metodo la scola ta pote teni un trasa de tota. En junta, Firefox e TOR ia muta me a la om nonvidable, nonpenetrada par la spias de la Comite Educal, libre per regarda la pajeria de JL Harajuku e vide cua aveni.

TOR works because the school has a finite blacklist of naughty addresses we aren’t allowed to visit, and the addresses of the nodes change all the time – no way could the school keep track of them all. Firefox and TOR together made me into the invisible man, impervious to Board of Ed snooping, free to check out the Harajuku FM site and see what was up.

E lo ia es ala, un avisa nova. Como tota avisas de Joia Loco Harajuku, lo ia ave composantes fisical, enlinia e mental. La composante enlinia ia es un rompetesta per solve, un cual esije ce on rexerca la respondes a un colie de demandas oscur. Esta grupo ia inclui un colie de demandas sur la tramas en dojinxis – estas es bandas de cartunes desiniada par fanes de manga, cartunes japanes. Los pote es tan major como la cartunes ofisial cual inspira los, ma los es multe plu bizara, con naras intermiscada e cantas e atas vera bobo a veses. Multe naras de ama, natural. Cadun gusta vide sua desiniadas favoreda en ama con lunlotra.

There it was, a new clue. Like all Harajuku Fun Madness clues, it had a physical, online and mental component. The online component was a puzzle you had to solve, one that required you to research the answers to a bunch of obscure questions. This batch included a bunch of questions on the plots in dojinshi – those are comic books drawn by fans of manga, Japanese comics. They can be as big as the official comics that inspire them, but they’re a lot weirder, with crossover story-lines and sometimes really silly songs and action. Lots of love stories, of course. Everyone loves to see their favorite toons hook up.

Me ia debe pospone solve acel enigmas asta plu tarda, pos reveni a casa. Solve los ia es la plu fasil con la ecipo intera, descargante montones de fixes de dojinxi e studiante los per respondes de la rompetestas.

I’d have to solve those riddles later, when I got home. They were easiest to solve with the whole team, downloading tons of dojinshi files and scouring them for answers to the puzzles.

Me ia veni de fini copia tota la avisas cuando la campana ia sona e nos ia comensa nosa evade. Me ia lisca furtiva la calculos a la lado de mea botas corta – sapatos de talo, de Blundstone, compania australian, eselente per core e trepa, e par sua manca de cordetas los es oportun per apone e desapone fasil ante la detetadores de metal cual on trova aora en tota locas.

I’d just finished scrap-booking all the clues when the bell rang and we began our escape. I surreptitiously slid the gravel down the side of my short boots – ankle-high Blundstones from Australia, great for running and climbing, and the easy slip-on/slip-off laceless design makes them convenient at the never-ending metal-detectors that are everywhere now.

Nos ia debe ance evita la vijila fisical, natural, ma esta deveni plu fasil sempre cuando on ajunta un strato nova de spia fisical – tota la aparatos e macinetas fa ce nosa profesores amada reposa con un senti completa falsa de securia. Nos ia surfa la fola longo la coredores, dirijente nos a mea porte ladal favoreda. Nos ia pasa tra un dui de la via cuando Darryl ia sisa: “Txa! Me ia oblida: me ave un libro de biblioteca en mea bolson.”

We also had to evade physical surveillance, of course, but that gets easier every time they add a new layer of physical snoopery – all the bells and whistles lull our beloved faculty into a totally false sense of security. We surfed the crowd down the hallways, heading for my favorite side-exit. We were halfway along when Darryl hissed, “Crap! I forgot, I’ve got a library book in my bag.”

“Tu broma.” – me ia dise, e ia tira el a la saleta privata seguente cual nos ia pasa. Libros de biblioteca es un problem. Cada de los ave un radioeticeta – eticeta radioidentifiable – colida en sua religa, cual capasi la bibliotecores a rejistra la prende de libros par brandi los supra un lejador, e permete ce un scafal de biblioteca avisa si cualce de la libros sur lo es malordinada.

“You’re kidding me,” I said, and hauled him into the next bathroom we passed. Library books are bad news. Every one of them has an arphid – Radio Frequency ID tag – glued into its binding, which makes it possible for the librarians to check out the books by waving them over a reader, and lets a library shelf tell you if any of the books on it are out of place.

Ma lo permete ance ce la scola trasa do on es a tota tempos. Lo ia es un plu de acel fesures de lege: la cortes no ia permete ce la scolas trasa nos con radioeticetas, ma los ia pote trasa libros de biblioteca e usa la arcivos scolal per dise ci es la portor la plu probable de cualce libro de biblioteca.

But it also lets the school track where you are at all times. It was another of those legal loopholes: the courts wouldn’t let the schools track us with arphids, but they could track library books, and use the school records to tell them who was likely to be carrying which library book.

Me ia ave un saceta Faraday en mea bolson – estas es bolsetas peti foreda con un rede de filos de cupre cual susede bloci la radioenerjia, silentinte la eticetas. Ma la sacetas ia es intendeda per neutri cartas de identia e transpondadores de peaje, no libros como –

I had a little Faraday pouch in my bag – these are little wallets lined with a mesh of copper wires that effectively block radio energy, silencing arphids. But the pouches were made for neutralizing ID cards and toll-booth transponders, not books like –

“Introdui a fisica?” Me ia jemi. La libro ia ave la grandia de un disionario.

“Introduction to Physics?” I groaned. The book was the size of a dictionary.