Anders put away his papers and looked around the room.  He was out of his element here.  The suits had summoned him up from his basement office to explain to them, in real terms, how much longer they could expect reduced profit margins.

He had spent the better part of the week watching local chat nets and other message boards, following migrant users who had left in protest or out of solidarity using information the data analysis division had collected.  He had watched what they said, tried to understand their sentiment and to pin down the reason that two thirds of the country’s largest message board user base had jumped ship.  He had put all of this into a report which had spent the last hour sailing high above the heads of the numbers men and been all but ignored by the PR people.

“So, in your estimation…” asked one of the suits  “How long before things settle down?”

“Well…” replied Anders.  “There’s no sign that they will.  The user base is outraged at the way we treated Riot_169.  Most of them are already setting up boards with our rivals or, in a few cases, starting their own.”

“This…Riot_169 broke the Terms of Service.  Surely some of them can at least see that?” asked a second suit.

“As far as most of the affected users are concerned, all she did was circulate freely available information.” replied Anders.

“Which incriminated and embarrassed one of our most important investors!” protested the first suit.

“What do we have to do to get them back on side?” asked the second suit.

“They’re demanding a change in company leadership.” said Anders.  “And full transparency with regards to all of the company’s investors and sponsors, an easily accessible list of names, for instance.”

“We’ll discuss it.” said the first suit.  “In the mean time, keep an eye on the situation.”

Back in his basement office, Anders sighed with relief.  It had been close to two weeks since the banning of Riot_169.  The incident had sparked outrage amongst long term users, who saw the act as one taken by a company more concerned with lining its own pockets than catering for its users.

In response both to unsavoury revelations about one of the companies biggest investors and the banning of the user responsible, almost all of the sites power users, the curators and creators of the sites various boards and content, had closed their boards and logged off.

With the users went their generated ad revenue and subscription fees.  The noticeable dent in the companies bottom line was already beginning to make its major sponsors and investors nervous and, with the company’s usual bottom line in the billions, even local and national government was starting to take notice.

A small window at the bottom of Anders’ computer screen flashed.  Clicking on it, he found a message from Gina Lowe, a childhood friend and reporter for various independent news nets.  He knew right away what it was about.

Gina was waiting for him when he arrived.  She waved.  He smiled back, battling with conflicting feelings.  The two had met in university, where they had formed a deep friendship characterised by bad hang overs, skipped lectures and rushed essays.  

There had been the ghost of a spark between them.  It had led to a brief, hot fire which lasted for only a few weeks before it burned itself out and left only ashes behind.  Anders knew that Gina was here for work.  She was just doing her job, he told himself, but that still didn’t explain the little black dress.  The obvious care she had taken to look good before meeting.

“I really don’t know anything.” said Anders as they took stools in a small bar tucked away in a dingy alley.  

The place was designed to look like something from the nineteen thirties, all wood panels and leather backed wooden seats.  Old Jazz records played quietly while the bar tender, a burly man in rolled up shirt sleeves, diligently cleaned glasses.

“Maybe I called you here just to catch up.” said Gina smiling.

“You don’t like me that much.” said Anders as their drinks arrived.  Gina was silent for a moment.

Two hours and one too many drinks later, the pair found themselves on the roof of the Ackerman Plaza building, looking out over the city.  They had come here as students, just after it had opened.  Anders remembered with bitter fondness the many hours he and Gina had spent here.

“Look.” said Gina “I’m just trying to do my job.  I’ll trade you.  One tip for another, how about that?”

“You first.” said Anders.

“Oh no!” replied Gina, smiling.  “I know how that works.  You first.  You trust me, don’t you?”

Anders stood in silence for a while.  There really wasn’t much he could tell her.  Still, he wanted to give her something.  He wasn’t sure why.  Perhaps so that she would think him useful and they could do this again?  That couldn’t be it, he told himself.

“The suits are completely clueless.” said Anders.  “They don’t understand the outrage.  I gave them the power users ultimatum today.” he continued.  “They’re ‘discussing’ it.”
“My turn, then.” said Gina wandering to the edge of the rooftop and looking out for a moment.  

“Your network security manager has been having a lot of conversations with a representative from the local PD.” she said.  “Word is that the senate is putting pressure on local government through the finance commission to get this thing resolved.”

“The police?” said Anders.  “What can they do?”

“I just know what I hear.” said Gina.  “It’s been nice, but I should go.”

Back at street level, Anders watched her shrink into the distance until she was swallowed up by the night time crowds.  He stayed there for a while, thinking about what she had said.  Why would the local police get involved?  Even if they did, what could they possibly do?

Anders found himself back in the board room.  He felt even more out of his element than last time.  He had been asked to give a progress report but, having found nothing to report, now found himself rehashing the already available information.  

He had decided to use the opportunity to ask a question.  One that had been slowly burning in the back of his mind since his meeting with Gina.  He felt uneasy about the idea of police involvement in the whole affair.  He wanted to know for sure what was happening.

“Thank you for that.” said the company’s vice president once Anders had finished giving his report.

“May I ask a question, sir?” said Anders.  The vice president made a gesture with one hand indicating that it was okay to proceed.  “I’m aware of course that various outside agencies have taken an interest in this incident.” began Anders.  “As you’re chief admin and a community liaison, is there anything I should know about that?”

The assembled suits had obviously not expected this line of questioning.  They stole conspiratorial glances at one another as an awkward silence descended over the room.  Anders was sure they were keeping something from him.

“Our hands are tied in that regard.” said the company’s president of Public Relations.  “All we can do is comply.  Not only is it not necessary for you to know details, it very well might also be illegal for us to share them at this point.”

“I understand.” said Anders, collecting his papers and leaving the room.

Back in his basement office, Anders sat idle for quite some time.  He tried to understand how it had come to this.  The banning of a single user for the sharing of files made available by someone else had some how spiralled out of control into a situation which apparently now needed local law enforcement intervention.

Anders couldn’t shake the feeling that something very bad would come of all of this.  Some long buried part of him felt an unshakeable need to act.  He had no influence in the company he knew.  They would never willingly tell him what he wanted to know.  Still, there were other ways of obtaining the information…

––
BY DAVID WILLIAMS