Come to Harm by Catriona McPherson

then several more to get hold of the loose edge on the flap in shaking fingers and tear it open.
    I saw you again. You can’t hide from me. I will tell them all.
    And just like the first one, this one was taken straight to the fireplace in the lounge, crumpled up—envelope and all—and had a match held to it until it caught, flared, and died down in sheets of ash to be stirred away to nothing with the poker.
    Wednesday, 9 October
    Later in the afternoon she had an appointment with Dr. Bryant, her supervisor, her mentor, Socrates to her Plato, Plato to her Aristotle …
    Well, she had an appointment anyway. But she wouldn’t waste the morning. She set up her PC on the big table in the bay window and started typing.
    Facts, Scams and Scares: the production of consensus in dense social networks , she wrote, editing out the gossip right away. Consensus as (arti)fact: scams and scares in the construction of knowledge . A cup of coffee on her right and a cup of pens and pencils on her left made a neat arrangement. Consensual knowledge in networks: scares, fads and density. To be confirmed, she decided and typed: Something with a colon: the title of a thesis in social psychology . She put in a page break and started typing again.
    The aim intention objective of this thesis project research enquiry is to enquire discover explore develop provide an account mechanism model explanation theory hypothesis for the …
    I will listen to people talking to find out …
    She shut her laptop and took a sheet of paper instead, uncapped a pen.
    Title
    Introduction
    Literature Review
    Find subjects
    Develop psych-test materials
    Dry run
    Organize group
    Develop main test materials
    Experiments (test, feedback, retest)
    Analysis
    Write thesis
    Graduate & accept job at Oxford/Cambridge/Harvard or similar
    And wondering what sort of job openings there would be if she were looking for one today, she opened her laptop instead and waited. Then she remembered she didn’t have an Internet account yet. No wonder she felt so marooned and peculiar. No phone yet, no WiFi. But as she was thinking it, a dialogue box popped up telling of a connection, asking for a password. She typed the password she used for everything— phdgirl —and, looking at the red X denying her access, she had never felt so far from home.
    _____
    Murray was alone in the shop, standing not behind the counter but out in front, tidying the notices on a corkboard behind the door— Brownies Barbie-Q night, firewood for sale, greenhouse wanted will collect —lining them up and pushing pins into all four corners, stripping off the tattered ones as he went. His white coat and apron were freshly starched and dazzling, sticking out at the edges like the new blue oilcloth on the kitchen table upstairs.
    â€œDay off already?” he said turning to her and smiling.
    â€œSorry?” said Keiko.
    â€œI thought you’d be away into town.”
    â€œLater.”
    â€œI’m not complaining,” said Murray, his smile even wider. “What can I do for you?”
    â€œAh, yes,” said Keiko. “I seem to have Internet upstairs but no one told me how to get onto it. I wondered if you knew. Or your mother maybe?”
    â€œMum?” said Murray, laughing. “She doesn’t even use a calculator, never mind computers. It’ll be Jimmy McKendrick that’s set that up for you. He’ll know.”
    â€œI see,” said Keiko. “I thought because it was your flat …”
    â€œWho told you that?” Murray said, giving her an exaggerated frown but still smiling.
    â€œMr. McKendrick did,” said Keiko, frowning herself, trying to remember. “I’m sure he said so. ‘Above the Pooles and they own it,’ he said. And I remember most particularly because I didn’t know it was a name at the time and ‘above the pools’ sounded so refreshing.”
    Murray laughed again then.