The call centre was a train ride out of town. None of them could get a driver’s licence – legitimately. It made the transport authorities nervous, what with the alcoholism and the giving one licence to two people on account of the one birth certificate. In the end, though, the train was okay. It was comfortable. They were going against the traffic, so there was always a seat, and the one of them going to work could read if they wanted or look out the window or just listen to music. It was fine – and the job was, too. They would sit in a room full of other people with headsets on, answering calls and answering questions about computers and phones but most often the internet. Everything about the internet was a bit confusing to everyone except the people who worked in the call centre. Most of the people who worked in the call centre had watched the internet coming. They’d built modems and written JavaScript and downloaded files from all over the world. They’d found their way into places they shouldn’t be – just for the fun of it. The call centre was filled with people who understood more than perhaps anyone else in the country how big the internet was going to be. The rules were being redrawn. No one at the call centre asked what Peggy or Greta had been ‘up to’. They asked what they were playing and what they were building and whether they wanted an AutoCAD crack keygen, ’cause they had one, if Peggy or Greta were in the market for one, just between Peggy or Greta and them but also, if anyone wanted to know if they knew anyone capable of writing an AutoCAD keygen – let them know too. All the call centre people were doing dark, great things. It felt like a place Peggy and Greta could make work. It would take some effort on their part, but it had the potential to work out well. Everyone was doing something secret.