TRINIDAD and TOBAGO
Trinidad (Spanish: "Trinity") is the largest and most populous of the two major islands and numerous landforms which make up the island nation of Trinidad and Tobago. It is the southernmost island in the Caribbean and lies just 11 km (6.8 mi) off the northeastern coast of Venezuela. With an area of 4,768 km2 (1,841 sq mi) it is also the fifth largest in the West Indies.
CYBER WARS © Jameson Hunter 2008 0 2014 (Chapter 12 extract)
80 20’N, 780 W
is a small colonial island, just one hundred and twenty kilometres wide and
3,080 square kilometres in area, lying off the north west coast of
Venezuela, South America. The population is roughly 1.5 million today from
850,000 in the sixties which is proportionally analogous to the
Port of Spain is the largest and busiest town on the island and the location
of The Trinidad Bugle’s newspaper offices, home to roving editor Sam
Hollis. Sam is very much a sportsman and has been a keen supporter of his
local running club for many years. This club had been the source of many
articles he’d written on the subject, one might call Sam a running expert.
Today he was manning the news desk.
The news phone rang and soon a colleague was telling of rumours that a man had been clocked running at bursts 30 miles an hour. Sam was instantly galvanised to action, for he knew that would have been impossible. But, his friend said it was on youtube – a sensation - so to check it out for himself.
“Thanks Joe. I’ll do that.” Sam had his feet up on the desk,
at the time of the call lazily gazing out of an open window, appreciating
the fresh onshore sea breeze, as it wafted heavenly scents of the season to
tease his senses. He tilted his straw sun hat back. He was wearing a tan
short sleeved sport shirt and light coloured trousers, perfectly suited to
the hot climate. Sam knew that the report must be a hoax, but what a scoop
if it turned out to be even partially true.
reporter flipped back his laptop lid and it sprang into life. A few clicks
later and after keying in: ‘fast man panama’ and Sam was presented with
a range of links; the top one led straight to the clip Joe had been talking
about. The clip was entitled ‘Panamanian Running Man.’ It took a few
seconds to buffer, but when it started it was obvious the very athletic
looking runner was setting a cracking pace along an empty beach. Damm,
was clearly an amateur film and very short. Or at least the clip posted was
short. It had been uploaded by a tourist on her travel blog. The site had
frozen with so many visitors, which jamming later became a news feature in
itself. It was claimed that the visitor to
Marjorie, I’m fascinated by your running man and wondered if there was
more footage. Regards, Sam”
not expected a reply for many hours, when the laptop announced incoming
mail. It was From: firstname.lastname@example.org. To: email@example.com
Sam, I got quite a bit more then tripped over in the excitement. Pop in
sometime if you want. Best, S
The Hatchings, Brighton Point.
meant that Marjorie was a local islander. What incredible luck! No need for
a flight. He clicked for a print out of the email; then sent another:
again Marjorie, Okay to come over today? S.”
S., Cheeky, but okay then.”
See you in about an hour. Sam.”
rushed out of the office grabbing his jacket from a coat-stand on his way
out. He knew roughly where Brighton was, it was between Otaheite and
arrived at the point amid a haze of dust. He slowly cruised up and down the
outcrop, wishing he’d brought a map, or his GPS.
A tidy looking pink cottage came into sight on his right with an
ornamental black iron sign under a rendered brick arch proclaiming: ‘The
Hatchings.’ He was relieved. He’d more or less stumbled on the cottage
by accident. He liked the look of the gardens and general proportions of the
building. It reminded him of the cottage “Light of Mourn” in the John
Wayne classic: The Quiet Man, although, that was set in
wondered through the arched gateway down a stone path to the front door,
which was partly ajar. He knocked twice, “Miss Boyle, Miss Boyle.” The
front door opened wider. The reporter knocked again harder looking back up
the path. “Anyone home?” As he turned back toward the door he met the
gaze of a beautiful tanned blonde standing in the doorway. She was about
5’ 10” and of athletic build. She was wearing a tight white lace shirt
unsupported and off-white denim shorts, which complemented her figure
perfectly. For a moment he was speechless. He’d expected something
different. Backpackers were usually crusty intellectual, plain creatures.
Gathering himself as convincingly as he could he queried, “Miss Boyle?” Marjorie Boyle stood in the doorway smiling. She knew she had this effect on men. Pity they all turned out to be simpletons after a good time – at least the ones she’d come across to now.
“What kept you? Fancy a sherbert?”
“I’m Sam Hollis.”
“Yes.” She said, “I know who you are Mr Hollis.”
“Call me Sam Miss Boyle.”
“Call me Maj, Sam.”
enjoyed the repartee as much as Marjorie. “Where’s your accent from?”
said Sam. Marjorie spoke in British tones with a hint of colonial
everyone. I’m from
“Oh, anything you’ve got.”
“That’s lucky.” She handed him a Solar Tonic™ – a new health drink sensation from the mainland, but Sam wouldn’t know about that.
“Hey, I’ve been meaning to try one of these.” Marjorie looked on mystified as she handed across a can. Sam cracked the lid on his can at the same time as Marjorie. They both tilted the heads back and took a big gulp. Ahhhh, and went to belch instinctively, but stopped themselves and looked at each other awkwardly, then both laughed. “Strewth,” said Sam, affecting an Australian accent, “that’s bloody nice.” He looked at the picture on the can interestedly, then at the stunning features of his host. “Well, what more have you got on this runner?” Marjorie beckoned Sam to follow her to her study where she had a 32” LCD screen running a sweeping planet saver program. He followed mesmerised by her shorts. She bent over her desk and moved a mouse to reveal several files in a folder called ‘Panama Holiday,’ then opened the middle one.
“This is the one you’ll be interested in.” Marjorie played it full screen. Sam, who was now standing beside her, dragged his eyes away from her lace top. The runner was a well tanned Caucasian wearing a tight silver track suit. He looked to be about five feet nine inches tall and superbly toned.
“Christ,” blurted Sam, almost spraying the screen with Tonic. “That’s really moving.” The clarity was several times that on the web, it made a heap of difference to the perception of speed. Sam turned to Marjorie mouth agape. Marjorie gave a knowing smile back.
know,” she said “it’s unbelievable, that’s why I had to film it.”
“Sorry to ask, but can I see the camera?”
“Sure, you wanna check it out. I don’t blame you. I can hardly believe it myself, and I was there.”
“Was anyone with you?”
I’d wandered off that morning, to powder my nose. I went to
“Hey, nice phone.” He scrolled through the saved images, admiring the metallic pearl finish on the mobile and oyster shell undulating pattern. The dates checked out and Marjorie was indeed with a very attractive looking brunette. He looked up at her.
“Can you meet my friend?” she said. “Yes of course you can.”
“Thanks Maj, perhaps I should take up hiking.” He played the clip a couple more times, noting the change in pace of the athlete as he breezed up to 30 miles and hour to jump over a mound. He seemed to take it all in his stride.
this guy was in our running club. He’d wipe the floor with Usain Bolt’s
Usain Bolt was a six foot tall Jamaican who set a new world record of
9.58 seconds over 100 metres at the 2009
turned out that Marjorie had known of Sam Hollis from his enthusiastic
editorial support for the local athletics club. For that reason Sam got
Marjorie’s permission to use a still from her camera in the Bugle. They
ran that story the following weekend, when controversy reigned supreme.
Marjorie Boyle went on the record to say that she’d simply captured live
what she’d seen in
Bugle readers thought the runner was an alien. Others thought the footage
had been speeded up. Whereas the fastest man on earth officially was only
capable of 20mph and that was a 100 metre dash. Experts had examined
Marjorie Boyle’s Utube footage and calculated that the runner was indeed
doing 30 mph at times, equal to roughly 15 metres a second. They recalled
the stunning performance of Jesse Owen at the Berlin Olympic Games just
before the Second World War, much to the annoyance of Adolf
Hitler, and Owen’s record had stood for a further 20 years. It was not
lost on broadcasters that performance enhancing drugs may have played a part
in this stunt. In the eighties the Olympic runner Ben Johnson had been
disqualified when he tested positive for a banned substance, when his 9.78
second 100 metre record was struck from the record books.
all of the networks in every country reported this news item tongue in
cheek, as some kind of publicity stunt or hoax. Sky News, told viewers:
‘Well folks, it looks like someone’s gone and built the perfect man!’
Little did they know how close to the truth they were? Marjorie was
inundated with enquiries for her film clip and eventually sold the exclusive
rights to a documentary film company for an undisclosed sum, after which
other media companies left her alone, but not Sam.
LINKS and RESOURCES
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