3

Fred Allsop was feeling pleased with himself. This was not an unusual feeling to him, but it was especially intense today. Not only had he made the necessary manoeuvres to create a doppelganger which expressed his inner self, but he had fleshed it out into something he felt was a reality, or as near as one came to reality in the modern world of the blogosphere on the internet. He was rewarding himself with a stroll to one of his favourite haunts.

The Red Rooster café was unusual in the city of Leicester. It was unusual for two reasons, here there were internet facilities aplenty. Not simply the common or garden wifi access which had become ubiquitous, being offered seemingly in every café and public house anywhere near the city center. No, here there were ranks of monitors in rows bedecked with webcams and connected via a network to a high speed link that enabled Fred to effortlessly upload or download any files he chanced upon.

The second unusual thing about the Red Rooster was that they served a number of Fred’s favourite foods. Not only was he able to have a sugary Chelsea bun with his tea, but he could also indulge in a plate of liver and bacon with onions next to the computer – something his mother would never permit, even if she could stomach to cook the food itself.

Fred settled into a seat at his preferred end of the row – next to the counter so that even when he needed refreshment he did not need to leave his seat. Even though he had the beige computer at home now he did not have a webcam facility and his mother would always make him leave the screen and eat in the kitchen. He did not like to even drink a cup of tea at his desk, for fear that in his excitement he may spill it and damage his precious computer. He ordered the liver and bacon – asking for extra gravy and thought about what he would do next as he logged in with practiced ease. The morning had been so good – he had read a comment from a lady who seemed to admire him in a grudging way. Inspired by this he had gone on to add a page which dispelled the idea that his given name was indeed Alfred. Not so, cleverly he had constructed the persona of Anton Ferhnzeit to cloak him in ubiquity and enable him to explore this new side of himself.

He was decided now, he would indulge in one of his favourite pastimes. Reaching up Fred lifted the “modesty screen” blacking out the webcam and went to see what IM programs were at his disposal. On a whim he opted for the one with the flower icon, it seemed to be called ICQ, and he wondered what that could stand for, probably some variation on the acronym IRQ used in low level programming, he thought to himself. Up came his little chat window on the screen. Fred noticed it had a WebCam icon and was pleased he could decide if he wanted to see the other person, and reciprocate by showing them himself.

Fred had for some time been toying with the idea that he could write a travel book. Conflated with the persona of Anton Fehrnzeit this idea flowered with a heady and pungent scent. The title presenting itself ineluctably to Fred was “Sweet blossom, the flower of all Thailand” (his heroine was to be called Blossom). Alfred saw he needed a nickname for the chat – without any hesitation and with a devilish smile (or what he supposed was a devilish smile) he typed in AntonF and went on to select his country. He decided he had better be in the one place, so AntonF was residing in the UK. Then he could decide the country of those he was to chat with – so again with no hesitation he selected Thailand.

After a short pause the logo flashed and Fred realised someone wanted to chat with him. Hurriedly he shovelled some liver and onions into his mouth and, chewing all the while, he typed;

“Hello, who are you?”

“My name is Petal” came the reply

“And mine is AntonF and I am a writer” typed Fred. He had decided this was no lie, after all he had a title for his book already!

“What do you write?”

“I am writing a novel and it is to be called ‘Sweet blossom, the flower of all Thailand’ and you are a petal so this must be meant to be!”

“Why you say that?”

“because petals fall from blossoms and flowers, of course!”

“And flowers grow best with manure”

“?”

“What makes you say that?”

Fred was puzzled, that sounded odd, but he was not sure if they had trouble with their English. But he was also intrigued, he needed inspiration both for his “novel” and for his own personal gratification (he was attracted to Thai women for all the wrong reasons). Licking his lips, the liver and onion forgotten and cooling to a congealed mass beside him, Fred typed on.

“Shall we open our cameras, I should love to see you”

“No yet, I no trust you – Englishmen are naughty I think”

“Ah, but I am Anton Fehrnzeit – I come from Russia originally, I promise you not to be naughty”

“No yet, first you must show me a reason”

“Well, I should love to admire your undoubted beauty – you are named after a flower and must surely look as beautiful” typed fred, thinking his flattery masterful

“Very well – you naughty Englishman – first you must do something for me”

“Ask and it is done” Fred was perspiring lightly now, excited

“I wish to see your chest, you must bare your chest for me, will you do this? Only then will I open my own camera”

Fred was nervous now, he was not in his bedroom after all. But then again he could open his shirt, if he first removed the yellow sweater. Fred looked around then huffed as though he were too hot and shrugged off his sweater. Underneath he wore a button down collarless shirt, which he proceeded to unbutton, huffing all the while.

“Very well, my gorgeous blossom” typed Fred “I am doing as you ask” He heard from behind him a shifting about of a group of people – but this was not unusual at the red Rooster – people often shared screens when they found something interesting or amusing, though Fred thought this common and did not do so himself.

“Oh you gorgeous Englishman, I want see body”

“You shall – soon” Fred was beyond excited now “I am turning on cam”

Fred clicked the video icon and was rewarded with a steady green glow from the cam activation light. He unbuttoned his shirt and adjusted it until he was happy with the result, then looked into the camera with a winsome look that he believed made him appear handsome. He was wrong on this score.

There were guffaws behind him. They must have found something funny.

“OH! More please more!”

“Why, my sweet blossom it is your turn now”

“Once more – let me see your handsome belly”

Fred paused for thought. Very well, he decided, standing and unbuttoning the last buttons in a nervous way. The red Roosters standards were low, but he had no idea how he looked (quite ridiculous).

“You are BIG MAN!” The guffaws from behind Fred were really distracting now. “I show you my sexy body, hunky!” And Fred saw the camera icon indicating he could click and see her. At last, he thought, and clicked the link.

To Fred’s confusion the picture he saw displayed was not of a Thai woman, it seemed an odd panorama. There were many smiling faces. What could it mean? The laughter behind him was really loud now and he turned to see what was disturbing the peace, tucking his shirt in and buttoning it all the while. Then he saw. The picture on the screen opposite was of his OWN back as he turned!

“Ha haha ha!” laughed the gaggle of onlookers, smiling at Fred in his disarray. “I lurv the Englishman, he so handsome!” screeched Shirley, a Red Rooster regular he did not much care for, grinning at him unkindly. With a flash fred realised what had happened. This bunch of people had registered and created “Blossom”, then persuaded him to display himself to the camera. He turned beetroot red, the blush starting below his collar, where his shirt was still undone, before moving upwards until his entire face was pink with shame.

Fred gathered his things hurriedly and stumbled past the smirking crowd and out into the street… all the while thinking nothing beyond the desire to be away from the place. There was no point defending himself. He would return to his bedroom to hide away. Fred wanted at this moment more than ever to become the alter-ego of Anton, who would never have to suffer this. Anton would have stood proudly. Anton would have had no paunch hanging over his belt. Anton would not have blushed. Fred wished he were Anton and when he got to the safety of his bedroom he would be!