Three: In the lunch room

<p>It had been years since I had broken the internet but people still talked about it. They still cursed the jobless idiot terrorist they thought I was. I hadn't done it on purpose exactly. Honest. I'd had a pressing reason. Yes, I had underestimated that person's schemes and virus, but If I hadn't broken the internet as a diversion, I'd probably still be in a prison cell for another crime that wasn't my fault. Who knew that the virus an irritating coworker had directed at my computer would be so potent and spread so quickly after I had fended it off. There had been so much going on that day, at that time that I had been reacting instinctively.<br/>The small diversion had become a huge big mess. But it had provided me sufficient cover to get rid of any damning evidence that might point at me after I realised I might have just been used as a scapegoat. I hadn't wanted to be implicated in any crimes that weren't of my own doing. <br/>The city's economy had only just recovered, according to the news on the television making noise in one corner of the lunch room. Why people left the television on when no one watched it during lunch, I didn't understand. It just made it harder for everyone to hear themselves.<br/>The television continued to blare. Apparently, I was still a public enemy of the masses and there were lots of people who wanted to find me in order to let me know what they thought of me. Lifetime imprisonment. Hoo. That sounded rough. The government's cyber security were still investigating and the public were encouraged to call Crime Blowers if they had any information.<br/>Phooey.<br/>Another good reason to stay home if this old story was coming back into the spotlight. It was a good thing I had left the other job or the pressure might have made me slip up. The real criminals would be staying as quiet as I was. If they dared to point me out, I'd hammer them with the evidence I had saved on a USB drive. <br/>The stress was immense enough to make me feel sick and sweaty every time the old topic came up again. It was a good thing I had gotten good at hiding my reactions by now. I'd had plenty of practice.<br/>"Ah," Katja sighed, jolting me back to the conversation I was meant to be having with her. My long thought train had happened within a split second and Katja hadn't noticed that my attention had drifted at all. "A pity. You promised you'd run another marathon with me one day. I miss you when you're not there on my heels. I run faster with you around. My winning times are always slower than our practice times."<br/>"One day," I grinned and agreed, ignoring the noise of the television news, just like the rest of the room was. Sometimes being too attentive and alert was detrimental to the mind.<br/>"Here's a general knowledge question for you, Maurie," Priscilla called out. "What's the technical term for things relating to the air?"<br/>"Pneuma," Maurie replied. "Give me something harder."<br/>"That's it," Priscilla announced. "That was the last question on the quiz."<br/>"October. There's the Tungsten Body triathlon in October," Katja insisted, boring her eager eyes into me, while I hurriedly distangled my attention from the quiz back to our conversation. For a moment, I had no idea what she was talking about. "I'll find out the date and we can start training for that," Katja continued. "You have to join that one with me, Jean. You don't seem to like the normal marathons as much, so you have to do the triathlon with me instead. I'm booking you ahead this time."<br/>"The Tungsten Body Triathlon? Are you trying to get me killed?" I protested, trying not to give in to Katja's puppy eyes. It was hard for anyone to say 'no' to her when she made that expression. "Let me think about it and check my diary," I told her, "but I can tell you that I-"<br/>"Don't say it," Katja interrupted, shaking a finger at me. "You promised. Come on, ole buddy, ole pal. Don't make me mad. You can't get out of this one. Don't look at Eleanor. I refuse to allow you to talk yourself out of this."<br/>Eleanor was just getting up from her seat at this point in time. The other microwave that had her food in it was beeping the completion of its duties.<br/>"I think Eleanor's more worried that the two of you might actually kill yourselves with your training this time," Maurie chuckled through his beef, potato and leek pastie that was two thirds the size of his face. "Didn't the two of you almost drown three years ago training for that Zelenki Trail Triathlon?"<br/>"I was an amateur then," Katja sniffed, tossing her shoulder length hair back over her shoulder, "and this time, there's no rugged mountain range to sap all our energy away. I will be magnanimous and admit it was my fault that time for ignoring the warnings we'd been given and forcing Jean to go along with me. We haven't made such stupid mistakes again since then."<br/>"What if Jean's still traumatised from her near death experience but just doesn't want to say 'no' to you?" Maurie pressed. "I mean, she's never dared to actually join a competition with you again since then."<br/>"Traumatised? Jean? She's the one who dragged me back into the water days later to make sure I wouldn't develop a phobia," Katja frowned. "Jean's tough as nails. Nothing can stop her when she puts her mind to it. Don't you try breaking our competitive rivalry."<br/>The microwave with my food started beeping to inform me it was done.<br/>"Jean," Maurie patted me on the arm when I stood up to retrieve my lasagne from the microwave. "I'm sorry. I tried."<br/>"Thank you," I replied with the same formal and solemn tone as the nervous politician on the telly who looked like he wanted to escape the television crew as much as I wanted to escape the conversation with Katja. "I will remember your efforts and reward you accordingly some vague day in the future."<br/>Maurie laughed at that, while Katja's eyes reminded me of a hunter who felt that their prey was ready for the taking.</p>