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Privacy Policy

produced at the 14/48 festival, 1/5/19. The randomly drawn theme for that night: "I'll Pass." My random actor draw: write a play for two actors.

ELSIE: My friend Anya had this really weird sexual fantasy she shared with me one time.

ANYA: Someday I want to have sex with someone in absolute, complete, total privacy.

ELSIE: What, like out in the woods or something?

ANYA: No, so I ran this as a thought experiment and itís kind of complicated. My definition of privacy would be - not only should no one be able to observe me while Iím having sex, but no one should even be able to deduce where I have gone to have sex.

ELSIE: So, like out in the woods or something?

ANYA: No, shut up, look, out in the woods, okay, there are multiple fleets of satellites now that have complete coverage of the surface of the earth on a daily basis. So I could never fuck out in the woods without some chance of being caught on camera.

ELSIE: Okay, so maybe like underground somewhere in a cave. Iím sure it would not be the first case of sex while spelunking.

ANYA: Sure, but so - how do I get into the cave without being observed? How do I get anywhere outdoors without being observed? How do I get from building to building without being observed? How do I get into my car and then drive to the cave without being observed?

ELSIE: Well, but what makes you think anyone is even watching you in the first place? Like, all that satellite footage is used for specific purposes, and Iím pretty sure no one is calling them up to track down where youíre having sex at any given moment.

ANYA: Sure, I agree, sort of, I mean, that data is just passively generated and there isnít a person monitoring me, but like - I also donít want the algorithms to know Iím having sex.

ELSIE: The ďalgorithmsĒ?

ANYA: Right, like - you know how sometimes you mention that you need new pajamas and then half an hour later you log into Facebook and you get an ad for pajamas? The algorithms know. And they report back to the mothership. I shouldnít be able to download my Facebook data and spot an entry for the day I had sex in an underground cave, see?

ELSIE: Well then I guess you kind of have to go back in time and not set up a Facebook account.

ANYA: Oh please, Facebook is tracking you whether you have an account or not. I actually tried to delete my Facebook account last year but I bet by tomorrow I will have spam email from REI trying to sell me sexy spelunking gear.

ELSIE: So what youíre looking for is an unexploited gap in the total surveillance state, where you can have passionate monkey sex without anyone knowing.

ANYA: Right. I actually figured I had to start planning early if I ever wanted it to happen. I stopped using a smartphone and I just buy a new flip phone at the drug store every once in a while.

ELSIE: Címon, you can run software that anonymizes your outgoing traffic on a smartphone.

ANYA: Sure, but then youíre just shifting your trust to the people who write that software and I donít feel like trusting those people because I canít read their code.

ELSIE: And thereís no surveillance on a flip phone?

ANYA: Facebookís probably not tracking me on a flip phone. Probably just the NSA is harvesting my flip phone data.

ELSIE: Anya, do you understand how colossally narcissistic that sounds? The NSA doesnít give a fuck about your flip phone!

ANYA: I said it was a thought experiment!

ELSIE: You said it was a sexual fantasy!

ANYA: Anyway, the point is, I throw away these flip phones and buy new ones on a semi regular basis, so I would be having the monkey sex in between owning flip phones in the first place! At that point, now Iím looking for anything else in my local environment that might be spying on me.

ELSIE: Right, so the person youíre fucking canít have a phone either, so that narrows it down to exactly zero people.

ANYA: Maybe. I mean, kind of the last factor in my thought experiment was, predictability. Like, the algorithms can predict future behavior based on patterns of past behavior, so Iíve slowly been introducing random variations into my routines to keep them off guard. Like buying random weird shit every now and then with a credit card and paying cash for everything else.

ELSIE: Or what, or showing up at my apartment at 11pm without calling first?

ANYA: Well, see I couldnít call, because Iím in between flip phones. And the algorithms wouldnít predict me being here because first they know I hate coming all the way to Ballard and second they know I hate that you have an Amazon Echo Dot.

ELSIE: Oh, well I can turn it off.

ANYA: Not good enough, but here, I brought this.

She pulls out a silver pouch; snags an Echo Dot off a nearby end table; and puts it inside the pouch.

ANYA: Now - gimme your phone. C'mon, it's safe, I promise.

Amused, Elsie hands her phone to Anya, who sticks it in the pouch and seals it up.

ANYA: This pouch is a Farraday cage. Blocks all incoming and outgoing signals.

ELSIE: You just happen to carry a portable Farraday cage.

ANYA: It's the only reliable last mile solution.

ELSIE: Solution for what?

ANYA: Elsie, would you consider having mad passionate monkey sex with me right now? We would have to be very quiet so your neighbors donít hear.

After a moment of consideration, Elsie pulls Anya close into a deep kiss.

ELSIE: Next time, send me an email or something so I can change the sheets before you get here.

ANYA: I might at least write you a letter.

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