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Jun. 12th, 2006 11:24 pmThe Tam quarters on Londinium are just that -- quarters. They're fine and spacious, assuredly, but they're an apartment, they're not the estate, and they're certainly not a home.
This doesn't mean that they're not outfitted with the best in cryptography and call protection, of course. Andronicus Crowley would insist on it, even if Gabriel and Regan Tam did not. Multiple dedicated source boxes, multiple screens, mulitiple hubs, all protected to the standard that Crowley and Gabriel use themselves in their offices.
The Tam quarters are spacious, and they're not home, but the light in the rooms is close to that of the Tam estate: all soft yellow, near-ambient, illuminating every corner with only the barest and least threatening shadows. That's enough to make the Tam quarters livable.
Even now, days after the initial news, the blue light projected from every screen in every room is enough to tell anybody who might be watching, even assuming that they could with all of this protection:
Something is not right.
Gabriel stares at the screen in front of him, at the words that say in English and Chinese Transmission Ended, and he can't stop himself from focusing on the second word --
(this is the end)
-- before he forcibly snaps himself out of it, and stands.
No. There is a way. There has to be a way.
This doesn't mean that they're not outfitted with the best in cryptography and call protection, of course. Andronicus Crowley would insist on it, even if Gabriel and Regan Tam did not. Multiple dedicated source boxes, multiple screens, mulitiple hubs, all protected to the standard that Crowley and Gabriel use themselves in their offices.
The Tam quarters are spacious, and they're not home, but the light in the rooms is close to that of the Tam estate: all soft yellow, near-ambient, illuminating every corner with only the barest and least threatening shadows. That's enough to make the Tam quarters livable.
Even now, days after the initial news, the blue light projected from every screen in every room is enough to tell anybody who might be watching, even assuming that they could with all of this protection:
Something is not right.
Gabriel stares at the screen in front of him, at the words that say in English and Chinese Transmission Ended, and he can't stop himself from focusing on the second word --
(this is the end)
-- before he forcibly snaps himself out of it, and stands.
No. There is a way. There has to be a way.
