Read ExLibris: excluded from social networks Page 12


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  I was in rather high spirits when I set off on my way from home to the clinic. That journey usually took roughly twenty minutes, so very soon I spotted the familiar shape of the place where I was assigned to do my community service – the compact building. Several floors of glazed metal-concrete constructions forming a roundish outline, resembled a huge drop of water. This was meant to be evidence of prospering business, because nothing would work better to persuade clients that they were going to be offered most efficient and advanced service than impressive architectural design. Ryan worked very hard to find an investor who would have helped him to buy that building. But in the end all that “hype” that had cost him a fortune fully paid its way – the parking in the front of the entrance was always full of clients’ expensive cars. And that despite the fact that the building was clearly too big for the clinic’s business needs, the ground floor alone was operating on a permanent basis, with the rest of the premises remaining vacant.

  Later I got to know about Ryan’s ambitious plans to expand the clinic’s operations, but that was later…

  I came to the glass doors that slid open automatically in front of me.

  “Hi, Jess!” I greeted the girl who was standing in the lobby behind the reception desk. Her pretty face, amazing smile and pleasant voice were meant to captivate everyone who came in.

  “Hello, Simon!” She smiled in response, leaning over the reception desk, as if trying to eliminate a barrier between us. But I was in a hurry, with no time to talk to her. The best way to slip past was to anticipate a conversation opener which she was looking for with any “business routine” question.

  “Is Samantha in her cabinet?” I asked in a very “serious” tone of voice.

  “Yes, she came some fifteen minutes ago,” Jessica answered, slightly flustered.

  “Thank you!” I didn’t give her a chance to say something else and demonstratively walked past her into a long corridor, which was located behind the reception table and had doors to counselors’ offices on all sides. Samantha’s cabinet was the second door after Ryan’s office whose door was for some reason wide open at that moment. I wanted to avoid meeting him – he wasn’t the nicest of people to speak to in the morning (especially for someone who wished to keep his spirits high), so I tried to slip past keeping a low profile. That wasn’t difficult and several seconds later I came into the office of Samantha Collins – my community service supervisor assigned by the Judge. It was on her regular reports which she submitted to the Judge that the course of my penal servitude depended. She was also Alberta’s personal counselor. I think, that was no coincidence, but yet another proof of that me and Berry were bound to meet.

  Samantha had worked as a counselor at the clinic since it was opened and was considered one of the best specialists. When I saw her for the first time, I didn’t expect the two of us to find much in common. Her strong-willed features, sharp voice and anorexic body classified her in my book as a stereotypical career-maker. I expected her to be kind of “Ryan’s” person, and it seemed to me that she would therefore be anything but nice in personal communication. And that fact could have made my obligation to do community service, which I wasn’t exactly looking forward to in general, even more intolerable. However, the first impression, as it often happens, appeared to be totally misleading. As soon as we began our conversations, I discovered for myself an absolutely different Samantha. Her gestures, mimicry, her manner to communicate, as well as what she said – I was captivated by her charismatic personality which conferred on her strict, almost manly features, a shade of softness and femininity.

  “Hello, Sam!” I greeted the woman who smiled as soon as saw me entering her office. She was rummaging through some papers on her desk. On the back of her armchair hung a black jacket while she herself stayed in a white blouse and a knee-long skirt of the same colour as the jacket.

  Despite the generation and the fact that she was my supervisor, in communication with me Samantha made no attempt to hide her real personality behind a status mask and behaved as if we were friends, encouraging me to do the same. And I think we really were. I don’t know whether that was a professional trust-building trick or she simply was took fancy to me, but this style of communication added a touch of sincerity to our conversations.

  “Oh, Simon! You are right on time, come in!” she continued smiling. “Hello!”

  “You’re looking great!” I paid her a compliment and I had two reasons for doing that. First, she really looked very nice and, second, I intended to ask a favour from her and tried this simple trick to get on the right side of her.

  “Thank you, Simon!” she was still smiling. She was clearly in a good mood, so I decided not to delay asking. It also seemed to be an appropriate moment, because finding time for conversation during the working day would have been way more difficult. I sat down on the couch which was meant to help visitors and patients relax.

  “Sam, I’ve got something to ask you, it concerns me and Alberta,” I finally managed to catch Samantha’s attention and she disrupted her search for something among the papers lying on her desk, and looked up at me.

  “I am listening to you, Simon. You know, I am always ready to discuss anything that bothers you and Alberta and do all I can to help. You can count on me there.” From her lips it sounded as something most ordinary, as though these were just words and nothing behind them. As a trained psychologist, she must have said something of the kind several times a day to each of her visitors in order to win their trust. It seemed strange why she would use this trick with me. But then I noticed that she tightened slightly and her smile became less sincere – probably at that moment all possible requests (the range of which was limited only by her imagination) scrolled through Sam’s mind. Some of those she must have been afraid of.

  “Tomorrow will be an important day for us – six months since we started dating. You know, I am not entirely on fabulous terms with her parents. I think, they won’t agree to let us spend time together,” I didn’t finish the sentence because I noticed signs of enlightenment on her face – Samantha had grasped what I was getting at: “Could I take her out during consultation hours?”

  I tried to read Sam’s reaction from her mimicry and body language. And judging from what I saw, the chances of my request being granted were pretty slim. She shrank slightly, her smile disappeared, her eyes focused on me with a piercing gaze… Obviously my request was one of those that had crossed her mind a split second earlier eliciting something like “I hope Simon won’t ask me that!”

  “Simon, you must understand that that is impossible. First, during our counseling sessions I am responsible for her and, moreover, it is for a reason that she visits me.”

  I interrupted her. “It is not necessary to reiterate the “reason” for which she visits this place. You and me, we both know that the real reason for your meetings three times a week is that Ryan receives nice sums of money from her rich parents each month, intimidating them with the fashionable diagnosis “social networking addiction”.

  “Simon, tone down!” this time she interrupted me.

  Although I had already myself realised that professional etiquette didn’t allow her to discuss Alberta with the same ease as she could criticise Ryan and his decisions in our conversations. So I had gone too far.

  “Sorry, Sam!” I apologised. “Actually, I am glad that Alberta comes to you, because you are the most normal person in the entire clinic.”

  I got up from the couch and went out. Despite Samantha’s refusal I had achieved my purpose, because I didn’t count on her consent from the start. My main purpose was to put her in the know. I had realised that she couldn’t possibly comply with my request. But in case of our absence, she was supposed to know the reason for it and not to make a fuss about it, or maybe she would even provide a cover-up. That was why I only needed to warn her that neither me, nor Alberta would appear at her office at the agreed hour… And I did it. Hackers rarely do things th
at are obviously intended to end in a tangible result. Much more often it takes a complex combination of actions in order to achieve your purpose while getting away with it unnoticed.