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   even stronger. Theorem was a liferaft of happiness in the growing

   turmoil of his life.

  

   But things were different in the outside world. Life on the run with

   Theorem was grim. Constantly dependent on other people, on their

   charity, they were also subject to their petty whims.

  

   A room-mate in the share-house got very drunk one night and picked a

   fight with one of Par's friends. It was a major row and the friend

   stormed out. In a fit of intoxicated fury, the drunk threatened to

   turn Par in to the authorities. Slurring his angry words, he announced

   he was going to call the FBI, CIA and Secret Service to tell them all

   where Par was living.

  

   Par and Theorem didn't want to wait around to see if the drunk would

   be true to his word. They grabbed their coats and fled into the

   darkness. With little money, and no place else to stay, they walked

   around for hours in the blistering, cold wind. Eventually they decided

   they had no choice but to return to the house late at night, hopefully

   after the drunk had fallen asleep.

  

   They sidled up to the front of the house, alert and on edge. It was

   quite possible the drunk had called every law enforcement agency his

   blurry mind could recall, in which case a collection of agents would

   be lying in wait. The street was deadly quiet. All the parked cars

   were deserted. Par peered in a darkened window but he couldn't see

   anything. He motioned for Theorem to follow him into the house.

  

   Though she couldn't see Par's face, Theorem could feel his tension.

   Most of the time, she revelled in their closeness, a proximity which

   at times seemed to border on telepathy. But at this moment, the

   extraordinary gift of empathy felt like a curse. Theorem could feel

   Par's all-consuming paranoia, and it filled her with terror as they

   crept through the hall, checking each room. Finally they reached Par's

   room, expecting to find two or three Secret Service agents waiting

   patiently for them in the dark.

   

   It was empty.

  

   They climbed into bed and tried to get some sleep, but Theorem lay

   awake in the dark for a little while, thinking about the strange and

   fearful experience of returning to the house. Though she spoke to Par

   on the phone almost every day when they were apart, she realised she

   had missed something.

  

   Being on the run for so long had changed Par.

  

   Some time after she returned to Switzerland, Theorem's access to Altos

   shrivelled up and died. She had been logging in through her old

   university account but the university eventually killed her access

   since she was no longer a student. Without access to any X.25 network

   linked to the outside world, she couldn't logon to Altos. Although she

   was never involved with hacking, Theorem had become quite addicted to

   Altos. The loss of access to the Swiss X.25 network--and therefore to

   Altos--left her feeling very depressed. She told Par over the

   telephone, in sombre tones.

  

   Par decide to make a little present for Theorem. While most hackers

   broke into computers hanging off the X.25 networks, Par broke into the

   computers of the companies which ran the X.25 networks. Having control