<a href="106">106</a>    [ 107 ]    <a href="108">108</a>had been in their pockets. They announced that the people were "naming names," compromising the "Xnet network" and that more arrests were expected soon. The name "M1k3y" was often heard. Dad loved this. He and I watched the news together, him gloating, me shrinking away, quietly freaking out. "You should see the stuff they're going to use on these kids," Dad said. "I've seen it in action. They'll get a couple of these kids and check out their friends lists on IM and the speed-dials on their phones, look for names that come up over and over, look for patterns, bringing in more kids. They're going to unravel them like an old sweater." I canceled Ange's dinner at our place and started spending even more time there. Ange's little sister Tina started to call me "the house-guest," as in "is the house-guest eating dinner with me tonight?" I liked Tina. All she cared about was going out and partying and meeting guys, but she was funny and utterly devoted to Ange. One night as we were doing the dishes, she dried her hands and said, conversationally, "You know, you seem like a nice guy, Marcus. My sister's just crazy about you and I like you too. But I have to tell you something: if you break her heart, I will track you down and pull your scrotum over your
head. It's not a pretty sight." I assured her that I would sooner pull my own scrotum over my head than break Ange's heart and she nodded. "So long as we're clear on that." "Your sister is a nut," I said as we lay on Ange's bed again, looking at Xnet blogs. That is pretty much all we did: fool around and read Xnet. "Did she use the scrotum line on you? I hate it when she does that. She just loves the word 'scrotum,' you know. It's nothing personal." I kissed her. We read some more. "Listen to this," she said. "Police project four to six *hundred* arrests this weekend in what they say will be the largest coordinated raid on Xnet dissidents to date." I felt like throwing up. "We've got to stop this," I said. "You know there are people who are doing *more* jamming to show that they're not intimidated? Isn't that just *crazy?*" "I think it's brave," she said. "We can't let them scare us into submission." "What? No, Ange, no. We can't let hundreds of people go to *jail*. You haven't been there. I have. It's worse than you think. It's worse than you can imagine." "I have a pretty fertile imagination," she said. "Stop it, OK? Be serious for a second. I won't do this. I won't send those people to jail. If I do, I'm the guy that Van thinks I am." "Marcus, I'm being serious. You think that these people don't know they could go to jail? They believe in the cause. You believe in it too. Give them the credit to know what they're getting into. It's not up to you to decide what risks they can or can't take." "It's my responsibility because if I tell them to stop, they'll stop." "I thought you weren't the leader?" "I'm not, of course I'm not. But I can't help it if they look to me for guidance. And so long as they do, I have a responsibility to help them stay safe. You see that, right?" "All I see is you getting ready to cut and run at the first sign of trouble. I think you're afraid they're going to figure out who *you* are. I think you're afraid for *you*." "That's not fair," I said, sitting up, pulling away from her. "Really? Who's the guy who nearly had a heart attack when he thought that his secret identity was out?" "That was different," I said. "This isn't about me. You know it isn't. Why are you being like this?" "Why are *you* like this?" she said. "Why aren't *you* willing to be the guy who was brave enough to get all this started?" "This isn't brave, it's suicide." "Cheap teenage melodrama, M1k3y." "Don't call me that!" "What, 'M1k3y'? Why not, *M1k3y*?" I put my shoes on. I picked up my bag. I walked home. # > Why I'm not jamming > I won't tell anyone else what to do, because I'm not
anyone's
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