I spent the weekend at a games convention, Conception, at a holiday camp
in New Milton, close to Christchurch on the south coast. I stayed over at the
camp last night, with the idea of travelling in to work in London on an early
train, leaving New Milton station at 6:14 am. A friend also attending the convention
had kindly offered to come and knock on my chalet window at about 5:45 to wake me
up, and to give me a lift to the station. Chris is used to being an early riser, and
wouldn't hear of me ordering a taxi. Last night a whole group of us had a
Chinese meal together, and spent a little time stargazing before turning in.
Venus was high in the sky and vividly green - more so than any of us could
remember seeing it.
At 5:45 this morning I woke up sharply, certain I'd heard a noise. I'd been
having a nightmare, and it ended very suddenly. I couldn't see anything in the
darkness outside my window, but I assumed Chris had nipped off for a smoke, and so I
hurled on my clothes, closed my case and headed outside. Chris was nowhere to be
seen. The sky was as dark and clear as it had been just before midnight, and Venus
was still up, above the tops of the surrounding trees. It was bitterly cold, and
there was a crust of frost on everything. I called out Chris's name, and had a quick
scout around the chalet. Nothing. Feeling cold and a little nervous, I walked down
to the chalet Chris and his girlfriend Jenny were sharing. The living room light was
on, but there was no sign of anyone. Jenny would presumably be sleeping, and I
didn't want to disturb her. The main room looked tidier than it had done the
previous night - no doubt Chris had sorted things out when he got up this morning.
Then I went down to the car park, where Chris had parked his van. He clearly hadn't
been there at all - there was a coating of ice on all the windows. The birds started
singing as I prowled around the deserted camp, quietly calling Chris's name. The
grass was crisp with tiny ice crystals, and my breath steamed so hard it sometimes
obscured my vision.
I remembered that Chris had mentioned the other night that if anyone ever needed
to find him in a hurry, they should call his mobile phone. He had said that he
always had his phone within a few feet of him, and switched on. I got out my mobile,
fetched up his number, and dialled it. After a pause of a few seconds, the phone
went dead. I tried again, and the same happened. Not even a ring tone. By now I
was quite afraid, both in case something had happened to Chris, and because I felt
very lonely. I re-visited all the places I'd already been to, and still didn't see
anyone at all. At this point, the sky began to lighten slightly, and I noticed from
my watch that it was 6:15. I'd missed the early train. I decided to take a chance,
and knocked on the door of Chris and Jenny's chalet. After a moment, Chris came to
the door, still in his pyjamas. He thought it was 5:15, and was very surprised to
be got up. He must have turned his alarm clock off when it rang, without realising
it. I was relieved to find he was OK, and he got dressed and duly gave me a lift to
the station. I was left more than a little spooked by the experience, and bitterly
cold. What had woken me at exactly 5:45, the time I had expected my friend to be
outside the window?
On the train, I had a coffee, warmed up, and pulled myself together. Then, at Southampton, my nerves were given
another slight jolt. A passenger sat down beside me who drew my attention. A
turbaned Indian with a laptop computer, he seemed to be a systems professional
of some sort - a hacker. He started his machine and started tinkering with his
files, and after a little while I noticed something extremely curious. He wasn't
touching the computer with his hands at all. It just sat on his lap, and he had his
hands empty and his arms folded. Despite this, I could see from glancing at the
screen that files were being opened and studied, and text was being typed and
selected. I thought of possible hands-free mechanisms for operating a computer. My
first idea was that he was controlling the cursor with his eyes, but I could see
that he was staring straight at the machine almost without blinking, and in any case
there was nowhere a camera could exist to monitor his eye movements. I considered
voice control, as he seemed to be wearing a earphones like the sort that plug into
mobile phones, and there was a small box on top of the laptop, next to the control
pad, which might have been connected to the computer, the earphones, or both. The
obvious problem with this idea was that just as he wasn't moving his eyes enough, he
was also totally silent. Nevertheless, he kept on operating the machine by some
unseen means. I got off the train at Waterloo, still baffled.