strange week
first day at my new and first paragraph of this paper was not quite as I expected. The firm took a neat little mansion on a quiet street not far from Montmartre. I have spent in the office of the director Monsieur Berthier. In addition to his room to resemble the library is an assistant secretary of Monsieur and Madame Sera Deri. I noticed that the office had no technique. Berthier picked up a folder with my case. "Why are you interested in" invisible network "-, he said. I explained that I was interested in moving to the contrary. In social networks user is subjected to constant contemplation. Can analyze its IP address, content, contacts. A man talks about himself a lot more than he thinks. As a result, becomes a victim, potential or real. "Invisible network" allows users to have their own Internet space allocated at various, including his non-servers. It can only show him the right content to the anonymous searching and other operations. Berthier nodded and began to talk about the projects the firm. They are interested in my article that proposed a new deployment technology, "invisible networks." I am for the month must enter into a project will receive a salary, which will pay a small apartment, food and clothing. For two days they gave me to settle in Paris. Madame Deri led me into the hall and asked to wait while it will advance and the paper is required. In the lobby there were chairs, bookcases along the walls were hung with pictures. I was looking at them and suddenly saw the face of Sylvia. Under the photo was written "Julie Dupree." At this time, came Madame Deri. "What a good face for your employee - "I said. The Secretary looked attentively at me." This is our former employee, "she said." Unfortunately the girl died a year ago, hit by a car accident ... "- with these words she handed me the money and papers, wanted to find a home and quickly went away.
I quickly found small apartment almost in the attic near Montmartre and faster moved into it. In addition, I bought a WiFi-modem and began looking for information about Julie Dupree. C the moment when Madame Duris said of her death, my heart ached. I could not make a mistake. But photography was the face of Sylvia. Finally, the two news sites in the archives books found information about her death. Short notes about what a student at the Sorbonne to crush a truck turns around to drive off of the furniture shop. The driver could not see the victim, she died immediately. I put in a laptop bag and went to a furniture store. My questions there is not very much, but I managed to find a guy, a porter who witnessed the incident. Everything was as described in the article. While the guy was surprised that the ambulance arrived quickly people who introduced her staff and took a folder with papers, speaking at the same time, explain that all the police. I stayed one more day and I decided to find native girl. Thinking, I went to the police station, he found a man who had time to listen to my story. It was almost true except for one thing: I did not say what I'm looking Silvia, not Julie. The policeman was a good man, he found it and flipped through it. The girl's parents lived in Toulouse. The body was sent to them. By the way, the policeman said, left stick. Somehow it happened that nobody has picked up. It is nothing but a song. He does not know what to do with it and wants to give it to me. When I went to the boulevard, then took the laptop, stuck to his stick and began to listen. It was a song Aznavour "Happy days ". Sylvia, in our conversations never mentioned it.
next three days I have diligently served the state of affairs at the company. It seems that my suggestions have liked. Formed a company of young boys. In her except for me included two programmer Etienne and Xavier. We quickly determined the structure of the system software and was told Monsieur Sera. Then we were invited to Berthier and he told me that I accepted the post of team leader. On Friday night I went to Toulouse to seek parents Julie.
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