The Rose

O Rose thou art sick. The invisible worm, That flies in the night In the howling storm:

Has found out thy bed Of crimson joy: And his dark secret love Does thy life destroy.

William BlakeStructural features

Language features

Deadly Games

Dylan threw his bag carelessly on the lounge chair in the corner of his town-house, and quickly went up the short flight of stairs to the bedroom.

He emerged soon after, his suit replaced by shorts and a t, and he felt the soothing softness of the carpet on his bare feet.

Instinctively he looked at his phone, knowing that it was futile as he hadn’t heard anything. The blank screen reminded him of the quandary he was in, and he felt his heart grow heavier. The burden of what he had to do weighed in on him. It was easier at work, the myriad tasks keeping his mind occupied, but here at home he could avoid it no longer.

Again he rehearsed what he had to say to Rosie – the only thing that he couldn’t rehearse were her lines back at him.

He sprawled on the sofa in his usual ‘pondering’ position, his eyes on the phone screen in his hands. The sudden ring jolted him, and he saw with trepidation Rosie’s name. He waited for a few rings, collecting his thoughts before he answered.

‘Rosie, hi.’ His voice was a trifle unnatural, but she seemed to

have missed it.

‘What are you up to?’

‘Just got home about ten minutes ago. How about you?’

‘On the train…will you be home later?’

‘Sure…what time?’

‘I’ll go home and shower, pick up some noodles, be there around 8.30.’

‘Okay.’ Was it only him, or was she aware of the unspoken words between them, the gap that he couldn’t find the words to fill? ‘See you then.’

‘’Kay...laters.’

He heard the click, and returned to his pondering…

It was Rosie who had first alerted him to the situation at her work in the software development company. She was a brilliant programmer, and her creations had quickly been recognised by her bosses. It was a good workplace, the programmers were all young, were paid well, and they worked hard and lived hard.

He and Rosie were not lovers, they were the closest friends, and with the pressures and unusual work commitments, they provided mutual intimacy and support, minus the complications of romance or the mundane miasma of living.

Software developers – the really good ones – had no compunctions about using their hacking skills to break into other software companies. “Just to have a look around at what they are working on…not to actually steal their ideas,’ was how she had explained it.

At first Dylan had expressed his doubts, not in a ‘holier than thou’ judgement, but simply as an expression of incredulity, that people did these things. Rosie just laughed it off, and threw back at him one morning as she jumped off the train. ‘we all do it, they’re looking at what I’m doing, I know they are.’

Increasingly, nagging doubts crept up on Dylan, like a kernel that grew harder inside him, and he found himself taking some kind of moral position, at which Rosie fired shots at him.

‘Since when have you been my conscience?’ Her eyes flashed in anger as she sat at her iPad in his living room one cold windy winter evening. She packed up the iPad silently, threw her scarf around her neck, grabbed her coat and was out the door without even a farewell. He looked grimly at the half eaten chicken stir fry she had left, and ruefully stretched out on the sofa, to

ponder…

It wasn’t until a week later that they spoke again, and as each day passed he wondered if she would ever speak to him again. He was determined not to go crawling to her, but he spent a lot of his downtime that week staring at the blank screen on his phone.

Dylan must have been dozing, the knock on the door startled him, and he stumbled over to open it.

‘You been asleep eh?’ She brushed past him, and instantly was rattling around in his kitchen cupboards. Before he even had time to wake up properly, she was placing two bowls of assorted noodles and rice on the small table in the centre of the room.

‘Beer would be good.’ She looked at him over her bowl held to her chin, a spoonful of noodles poised half way between bowl and mouth.

They ate almost in silence, punctuated with small talk, mostly about people at their respective workplaces.

While he took the empty bowls over to the sink, Rosie put her feet up on the table, iPad on her lap.

‘Look at this…I’ve been looking at Jesse Taksin’s new game, it’s awesome, that guy is brilliant!’

She looked up at him, and registered the expression of doubt on his face.

‘What…’,Her arms spread and palms facing up. It was not a question, but an accusation.

‘Gees Rosie, don’t you see what’s wrong with this? You used to be so outspoken against hacking, and now you just zoom around from one site to another, taking other people’s ideas and using them…’

‘Oh for chrissakes Dylan, get off your high horse will you! You know what, you’re getting to be a real pain in the arse.’

Her eyes returned to the screen in front of her. ‘Do you really think I need to pinch ideas off these guys, sure they are good but I reckon I’m better…I know I’m better!’

‘You are better Rosie, that’s why its…well…wrong.’

‘Ah there you go again Mr Goody-goody…now listen…’ Rosie began to speak slowly, like he was a simpleton. ‘Its not wrong if everybody does it and no one gets hurt by it. Jesse Taksin

knows I hack into his stuff and have a look at what he’s doing, just like I know that he does the same to me.’ She held up her hand, palm pointing towards him to stop him interrupting. ‘If we started to pinch each other’s ideas the legal people would be into action before you could say ‘epic fail’.’

‘But don’t you see, that’s what’s wrong! Just because everyone does it doesn’t make it right,… its like you’re all taking part in a conspiracy!’

The look of disbelief in Rosie’s face was exaggerated. ‘ Conspiracy? Listen to yourself will you…all we are is a disparate group of people who do things that none of us object to ‘cos we all do it.’

‘And look where’s it got you!’ The atmosphere in the room seemed to be warming, headed towards the confrontation Dylan had been avoiding.

‘Where its got me is this job, software development and a pretty good salary…compared to some…’ Her barb was pointed, she knew he was a little bit jealous of what she was earning compared to him, even though she made light of it.

‘No Rosie, where its got you is working in this toxic environment where you guys make up your own rules to suit yourselves, and every day you’re breaking the laws you used to fight to protect when you were a student. How did you get to where you are? By sneaking in and using the ideas of other people to build your own reputation! Sure Jesse Taksin and you have this little thing between you, but what about all the guys who aren’t part of your precious little clique. How do they break into big time software development? By following your rules, and breaking the law just like you. And I know you wouldn’t dare use Taksin’s ideas but you use ideas you find on some ordinary guy’s project, you say you just have a look but then you take what you want and he’s pwned!’

She tossed her head, and settled herself back onto the sofa as if steeling herself to ward off a challenge.

‘Yeah…whatever…’

The silence between them was strained. Dylan wondered why he was so worried. Why was he making such a big deal of it?

What really got to him wasn’t just that Rosie was doing illegal things – she was a smart lady, and knew her limits. What was getting to him was how easily she had fitted in to this…vortex…that seemed to be pulling her in, changing her. When you become part of the problem, the solutions are hidden from your eyes…No… it was more than that. For Rosie there was no need for a solution because she didn’t perceive a problem.

He wondered about them, their friendship. Could he still love

and respect her if she was going down this path?

She sat on the sofa, feet up on the coffee table, eyes dancing over the screen of her iPad, fingers deftly swiping from screen to screen, occasionally tapping notes for herself about what she was seeing. Occasionally her lips pursed and she breathed out a silent ‘Wow’.

How could she be doing this and not using the ideas for her own work?

Dylan stared at her, imagining he was looking deep inside this individual who had come to mean so much to him. He realised he didn’t really like what he was seeing. Did he really know Rosie like he thought he did?

He sprawled on the sofa in his usual ‘pondering’ position, his eyes on the phone screen in his hands…