2066 – Janek is like a mouse in a cage…

Friday 30th October

-[ I wasn’t downhearted that Janek had evaded us.  This might be a game of cat and mouse, but in my experience the cat always wins.  Sooner or later the mouse will want cheese.  He will stick his nose out of his hiding place and good old kitty will strike.

And really Janek, I thought you might be cleverer than that.  What were you thinking of, you looked awful, like some dirty old tramp.  And the beard?  That was a dead giveaway.  Who wears a beard nowadays?  Only those clever designer types who use their facial hair as a fashion statement, but that might work in Hackney or Leyton, where all those pretty boys and girls choose to live, but not in South-East London, Janek.

And of course you should have known that the old remnants of the ‘working class’ were the quickest to buy into the new world dream we had created.  It was always the middle classes we had to be smarter with.  Why do you think there was only one mediocre level of credit for them, and thirty six gradations of strata for the old ‘middle class’?

If only the ‘middle classes’ were as easy to manipulate as the drone strata.  We only have to fill their screens with cheaply made rubbish, give them unlimited manna, free porn channels and their own shoddy version of syn and lots of synthetic-booze and they are happy as the proverbial swine in their own ordure.

So, what happens next Janek?  Of course you have no idea, frightened little mouse that you are.  But kitty here knows what to do.  I ordered all the surv-cams in a five kilometre radius to switch from record to recognise.  I downloaded all known images of your face to the regional Hypercoms and waited.  After all this was now a waiting game, and hunger if nothing else would soon force you out of your mouse-hole.   You might as well have surrendered there and then; you must have known the odds were stacked against you.  But you always were a stubborn little mouse, weren’t you Janek Smith.  The net was closing in, but you still had a trick or two up your sleeve, didn’t you?]-