It felt like the post millennial underground railroad. Traveling across the country, and even across borders covertly. Meeting with hacker groups at flash meetups. When you're the one who designed the surveillance grid, you know best how to get around it.

My favorite meetup was the flashmob dance party in Greenwich Village's Washington Square. We handed out headbands and glowsticks to the crowd, each covered with flashing LEDs and many IR LEDs that gave everyone wearing one a 'halo' like a flashlight being aimed at the surveillance cameras. We held our meetup in public, surrounded by hundreds of dancing strangers in their headbands, unaware that they were our cover. After our brief meetup, the maker who designed the headbands keyed a sequence into her iPhone that made all the bands pulse in unison, which ignited the crowd to a joyous roar... Unaware that the pulses were spelling out “R00tkidFTW” into the surveillance cameras, followed by a sequence that forced a buffer overflow and caused the entire surveillance network to reboot. Harmless. But a reminder that we still pwned the grid.

I never had imagined how vast the darknet was. Or how revered Lady Eve was. I needed little coaching to play the part, and soon Aaron stopped even giving me pointers, often just complimenting me for an inspired improv.

Like the time when someone confronted me, asking why I had been so reclusive and now was in everyone's face. I replied that what I had endured was a brutal awakening that there was no safety in stealth, so I decided I had nothing left to lose by taking the opposite approach and becoming as mainstream as possible.

I conceded that I wasn't really a 'people person' and enjoyed my previous reclusiveness – which seemed to resonate with the crowd – but that I had to get over that and become more public because the threat was too big to hide. Only risking exposure by shining a light on these shadowy activities of our adversaries, could we demonstrate to decent, honest people across the planet how they were being manipulated to their own peril, by this pernicious evil.

It brought the crowd to their feet, and I finally began to believe I was making a positive contribution. I was beginning to feel like I wasn't entirely a faker.

Over time my old life began to feel like someone else's. It was as if I had read a biography, and could recall every event intellectually, but there was no emotional attachment. I don't know if it was a post-trauma defense, an effect of the 'healing' process and all the mood-altering drugs I'd been pumped with to prevent emotional scarring, or just the fact that who I now was and the world I now lived in was so profoundly different from everything that came before it, but I really felt that Yves Derosiers had died when they assaulted and destroyed my home and life. I still wasn't sure who I was, but it became more clear every day who I was not.

Aaron kept my 'Dark Secret' and I kept his. Any stumbles I had becoming Lady Eve were attributed to my well documented mistreatment and psychological torture. No one knew, that despite always wondering if I'd make more sense as a a female, the intricate details of being in the world AS a female, without the lifetime of preparation inherent to those born and raised female, was a bit daunting.

I eventually stopped consciously thinking “what would be the feminine way to do this” and just started trusting my instincts. My growing self confidence served me much better than any conscious attempt to “act female”. I realized that everyone had subtly different ideas of 'appropriate behavior' and that included femininity. I just needed to learn to be comfortable in my own skin, and own myself. The more comfort and self-confidence I showed, the less anyone questioned anything about my behavior. I can't say I became Lady Eve. Maybe Lady Eve became me. The truth is probably somewhere in the middle. But eventually, I never questioned who I was. Neither did anyone else.

The 'girlfriend' thing proved awkward. It was pretty useful when I did get hit on, which actually happened a lot more than I'd have expected. I had no idea how much unwanted attention women had to fend off. Fortunately, I seemed to have a natural knack to derail or defuse amorous advances. A few other women commented on how effortlessly I'd managed to dissuade admirers without having to bruise their egos excessively. I smiled and dismissed it as a remedial task, since I was dealing with geeks who were predisposed to getting shot down. I assured them that dealing with Wall Street sharks, politicians or other alpha males who only heard the sound of their own voice, I would have to resort to the pepperspray like everyone else.

I bonded surprisingly fast with the other women in the grayhat community. We were a niche within a niche, and we watched out for each other. I will admit that not all the passes I fended off were from the guys. I was equally gracious in demurring from the ladies, claiming that, while flattered, I really couldn't see myself with anyone else, but if that ever changed, for them to know that they had made an indelible impression on me. So far, that worked every time.

As for the 'not seeing myself with anyone else' part, I never actually said Aaron and I were an item, but it was strongly implied.

It was my disingenuous way of keeping up appearances with R00tkid, who, being the only one to know my 'dark secret' obviously had as little amorous attraction to me as I did to him. Or so I thought.

One night in Portland after a local meetup, we were settling into a loft secured for us by one of the gathering's organizers. Since we were 'a couple' we often found ourselves sharing accommodations. It never bothered me, because Aaron had seen me at my absolute worst and knew all my secrets. Not to mention that whole 'saving my life' business.

I was completely comfortable around him and thought he felt the same about me. I guess if I had to describe it, I thought of our relation like maybe brother and sister – without the sibling rivalry. Or maybe old married couple without the years of pent up annoyance over idiosyncrasies. In other words, I felt we got along well, and were completely comfortable with each others company. Which was rare for two loners thrown together.

One thing I never felt was 'sexual tension'. Maybe I was just blind. Maybe he was just drunk. Undoubtedly we were both exhausted, physically and emotionally.

As I was getting undressed, ready for my ritual hot shower and preparation for bed, I felt his eyes on me. “Do you have any idea how hard it is?” he asked. I had no idea what he was talking about, so I tossed off one of my usual glib responses.

“Don't worry. I'll save you some hot water, and I'll leave the lotion by the shower” I laughed.

He didn't.

“I'm serious. Do you have ANY idea? I've known you for what, going on a year now? I remember when they brought you in, bruised and battered. I wasn't even sure if you would live. I wasn't sure you even wanted to.”

The lightness of our usual banter was gone. I was overcome by the seriousness of this conversation as well. “Neither was I” I admitted. “But you wouldn't let me die. You took extraordinary measures to bring me back. Then you gave me a ready to wear life, when I no longer had one of my own.”

“It fits you well” he smiled. “I never could have imagined how well”

I smiled. Uncomfortably. I was not sure where this was going, but it made me uneasy.

“Have you ever wondered where Lady 3V3 came from?” He asked, staring right through me. He tapped his index finger to his temple. “Right here.” Then he lowered his hand and started tapping his heart like a repentant Catholic. “And here.” He kept staring.

“I think you need to move much lower” I quipped. He laughed bitterly.

“Shit.” His expression was really pained. “You were my fantasy girl. I knew someone like me would never meet someone like you, even if you really did exist. So I made you.”

“That wasn't me.”

“That's what I kept telling myself. It was just an amazing coincidence. The goons never knew you weren't real, and thanks to their ignorance and brutality, they actually MADE you real.”

“You know who I really am.”

“I know who you were. Can you tell me in all honesty that that person is not dead?”

I lowered my eyes and stared at my painted toes. I shook my head. “But I am not her. I don't know WHO I am.”

“You are you.”

“Yes.”

“And who YOU are …. IS her.”

“No. That's just a convenient ruse.”

“I kept telling myself that. Well, actually, I..” he tapped his temple “kept telling...” he tapped his heart. “But I don't even believe it myself anymore. You are more Eve than 3V3 ever was. In so many more ways and more intricate detail than I could ever fabricate.”

“That's because I am real. Reality is full of intricate details.”

“Exactly. 3V3 had been my fantasy for years. And now you are more Eve than 3V3. How do you think that makes me feel?”

“Confused?”

“There's an understatement.”

“Conflicted?”

“Not as much as you think. I know who you were. I know who 3V3 was – I programmed her. Both of them are gone. Replaced by you. And you are greater than the sum of both parts.”

“I never knew you felt this way.”

“Of course you didn't. I never told you. Until now.”

“I should have seen this coming. Should have picked up on it.”

“Don't start knocking your 'woman's intuition' “ You're very perceptive. But I'm a hell of a poker player.”

“Well, thank you for showing your hand. But you know I don't feel the same way.”

“I presumed as much. But I had to be honest. You already know my secrets.”

“As you know mine.”

“Now you know another. Look. I know this life... in that body... was kind of forced on you. But think about what you're going to do with it. Don't you ever get lonely?”

“You mean horny.”

“Same difference.”

“No. It's not.”

“Maybe it's a guy thing”

“No. They were always different things. Even when I was a guy.”

“I'm not sure you ever really were a guy”

I had no response to that.

“Look” I said lapsing into my stock turn down. Something I never dreamed I'd be using with Aaron. “I'm very flattered you think of me that way. But please know I don't feel the same way. If that ever changes, I promise you'll be the first to know. But don't dwell on it, because in all honesty I can't imagine the circumstances that would lead to that happening.”

“Had you ever imagined the circumstances that led you to where you are now?”

Again I had no response.

“I'm taking a shower. And I'm NOT leaving you any hot water. You need a COLD shower.” I smiled. I hoped my levity would defuse the situation. Still, as I headed for the shower, I wasn't sure it had.