Memoir

We’re in the underground comms room of a deserted nighttime British High Commission in Singapore. Outside, a swaling wind, a tropical storm mixed with the burnings of Indonesian crops, is battering the city state’s good [more…]

“Whose side are you on?” I snarled to Lotus Flower in a private message. “Mine,” she replied promptly. “You retire in disgrace in a few weeks, I have to think about the rest of my [more…]

In real life, we’re sat in a row in the comms room, logged on to our computers. On the screens our avatars are in the virtual 3D interactive world of EYE, an intelligence archive retrieval [more…]

We’re in an underground comms room in Singapore, suffering a bit of low key blackmail as an old contact, Tammy, on the New York side of a cell-phone loudspeaker, wants to know something, before she’ll [more…]

“Type Tammy-May Trevallion into social media,” I instructed Rose who was in charge of the keyboard at our computer terminal in the underground communications room at the British High Commission, at the better end of [more…]

Myself and Rose are before a terminal in the underground comms room of a deserted British High Commission. The other girls, Nicole and Lotus Flower, are escaping the tropical storm outside by maxing out Mr [more…]