"So what's on the disks?" Monty asked, leaning back to read over the side of Christie's hair. On the screen, the characters spelled out the end of the free world. Everything in this room was now punishable by fines, jail time, forcible service, or exportation to one of the corporate colonies overseas to spend a few years plugging code at gunpoint. The Man had finally come down on what the kids had been up to in the last decade or so, ever since the grad students at MIT and their home tape readers.
"Birthday present," she said, stretching back up. "I want a smoke. Let's go outside."
Monty glanced at her as she moved toward the door, then to the box, now slightly tilted on his lap, before picking it up and setting it on the desk. He tapped out an exit command as Christie bent down to relace her boot. The computer honked at him and he glanced back at the screen, retyping the command.