Noam
Member
The first thing Ezra did when he got home was ask his cousin about encrypted texting apps.
Maggie looked up from her laptop and raised one bright purple eyebrow at him. “You realize that’s, like, a really suspicious question coming from a teenaged boy.”
“You caught me,” Ezra said, as sarcastically as he could manage. His pulse was still hammering in his throat, and he had to shove his hands in his pockets to stop them from shaking. He was pretty sure that he’d lost the Hork-Bajir, or whatever they were called, about a mile ago, and they weren’t about to come barging in through the living room windows. Pretty sure. “I’m spying for the Russians.”
“Funny boy.” She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “The best one is probably UnderGround. Their whole thing is that you can’t buy it or even find it randomly; you gotta be in the know to get it. Fortunately, you are in the know. Or at least, you are now.” She held out her hand, and he gave her his phone. She plugged it into her computer, typed for a few minutes, then said, “There,” and handed it back to him. “Your secrets are safe.”
The icon for UnderGround looked like a calendar. “Thanks,” Ezra said, and fled to his room before she could start asking him any weird questions.
He had Ben and Rebecca’s phone numbers, just to set up their ASL study group, and Georgia’s phone number because that was what happened when you grew up on the same street. He opened the app, picked a username, and sent them all a message.
--
Georgia had told her parents she was too sick to eat dinner. She’d vaguely implied that it was period cramps, which got them to leave her alone. She was huddled under her covers halfway to a panic attack when her phone chimed in her hand.
EZ wants to talk to you on UnderGround, said the alert. She frowned, but opened it.
So that wasn’t my hallucination, said the text that appeared on her screen. It wasn’t a regular text, it was in some kind of app with a black background. We did just meet an actual alien who gave us superpowers.
Ezra wtf, she typed back frantically. The app prompted her for a name, and she typed in Georgia, then thought better of it and typed in Curly. E-Boy had to be a reference to his name sign—the letter Z drawn with an E hand—and hers looked like the word for curly. Don’t text about this, the government could be tapping our phones.
Maggie looked up from her laptop and raised one bright purple eyebrow at him. “You realize that’s, like, a really suspicious question coming from a teenaged boy.”
“You caught me,” Ezra said, as sarcastically as he could manage. His pulse was still hammering in his throat, and he had to shove his hands in his pockets to stop them from shaking. He was pretty sure that he’d lost the Hork-Bajir, or whatever they were called, about a mile ago, and they weren’t about to come barging in through the living room windows. Pretty sure. “I’m spying for the Russians.”
“Funny boy.” She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “The best one is probably UnderGround. Their whole thing is that you can’t buy it or even find it randomly; you gotta be in the know to get it. Fortunately, you are in the know. Or at least, you are now.” She held out her hand, and he gave her his phone. She plugged it into her computer, typed for a few minutes, then said, “There,” and handed it back to him. “Your secrets are safe.”
The icon for UnderGround looked like a calendar. “Thanks,” Ezra said, and fled to his room before she could start asking him any weird questions.
He had Ben and Rebecca’s phone numbers, just to set up their ASL study group, and Georgia’s phone number because that was what happened when you grew up on the same street. He opened the app, picked a username, and sent them all a message.
--
Georgia had told her parents she was too sick to eat dinner. She’d vaguely implied that it was period cramps, which got them to leave her alone. She was huddled under her covers halfway to a panic attack when her phone chimed in her hand.
EZ wants to talk to you on UnderGround, said the alert. She frowned, but opened it.
So that wasn’t my hallucination, said the text that appeared on her screen. It wasn’t a regular text, it was in some kind of app with a black background. We did just meet an actual alien who gave us superpowers.
Ezra wtf, she typed back frantically. The app prompted her for a name, and she typed in Georgia, then thought better of it and typed in Curly. E-Boy had to be a reference to his name sign—the letter Z drawn with an E hand—and hers looked like the word for curly. Don’t text about this, the government could be tapping our phones.