Within a month, Phoenix and Electron were in regular contact, and during the summer holidays they were talking on the phone—voice—all the time, sometimes three or four times a day. Hack then talk. Compare notes. Hack some more. Check in again, ask a few questions. Then back to hacking.
The actual hacking was generally a solo act. For a social animal like Phoenix, it was a lonely pursuit. While many hackers revelled in the intense isolation, some, such as Phoenix, also needed to check in with fellow humanity once in a while. Not just any humanity—those who understood and shared in the obsession.
`Caboodle. Caboose, `Electron went on, `Cabriolet. What the hell is a
Cabriolet? Do you know?'
`Yeah,' Phoenix answered, then rushed on. `OK. Cacao. Cache. Cachet …'
`Tell us. What is it?' Electron cut Phoenix off.
`Cachinnation. Cachou …'
`Do you know?' Electron asked again, slightly irritated. As usual,
Phoenix was claiming to know things he probably didn't.
`Hmm? Uh, yeah,' Phoenix answered weakly. `Cackle. Cacophony …'
Electron knew that particular Phoenix `yeah'—the one which said `yes' but meant `no, and I don't want to own up to it either so let's drop it'.
Electron made it a habit not to believe most of the things Phoenix told him. Unless there was some solid proof, Electron figured it was just hot air. He didn't actually like Phoenix much as a person, and found talking to him difficult at times. He preferred the company of his fellow hacker Powerspike.