My Secret Life as an Iranian Proxy Server

I turned my picture green and set my time zone to 3:30. Newfoundland? They must be the same longitude as Iran. Then I started tweating.

Ready to be a proxy server. What do I have to do?

Nothing.

Let’s prox! How do we do this?
Also, how does twitter work? What is “following”?

Still silence. Had I already compromised myself? I was in too deep already. I decided to play dumb, posting my usual comments about breakfast, lunch and the weather. It happened to be sunny, but my mood was overcast. I knew nothing would ever be the same.

I’d been growing my beard since the day before, and was beginning to look the part. My hejab looked pretty authentic. I noticed several Middle Eastern types on the train to work. Iranians? Hard to tell. Some of them were probably Latinos, but I caught some furtive looks. Were they on to me? “Allah Akbar” I muttered to myself. And to listening ears.

At lunch I tweated again, taking a new tack.

Special day! Ordering Thai! Definitely not part of the Iranian opposition!

No replies, but this time I didn’t expect any. I’d flown my flag, now it was time to let the nets collect their catch.

On the train home I felt I could discern the difference between Hispanics and Persians. If they were speaking in Spanish, they were probably not Iranians. No one would be that clever, would they? Wheels within wheels. I tried speaking in Iranian, what little I knew. Mostly variations on Allah Akbar. “akbar akbar…Barak Allah…” Was Obama a god to them? What a strange theocracy!

Someone tapped me on the shoulder. So this was it. Ahmadinejad’s people had found me. I slowly turned and was surprised to see a pale, stocky man with light brown hair. He had a red maple-leaf on his lapel.

“Can I help you?” I asked.

“My name is Ted Finn. I’m with the Canadian Security Intelligence Service. You’re a long way from Newfoundland, Mr. Kilian.”

“Allah Akbar?”

“I’m afraid you’ve become a person of interest. Please come with me.”

We got out at the next stop, moving very slowly. I was too frightened to make a break for it. We made our way down to a black sedan that was waiting outside the stop. Mr. Finn opened the door, and I stepped into the darkness, into the unknown.

Canada. It was all so much vaster than I had thought.

–Dan Kilian
Michael Score on Iran
Conversation About Israel

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