The New Irish Collective

The air was thick with smog and tension in the dimly lit backroom of the corner pub. A map of Belfast rested on the worn wooden table, marked up with pushpins and cryptic markings. Looking at it were the top brass of the IRA, including the city’s liaison Aisling.

She leaned forward across the table, eyeing the young man with skepticism.

“So,” she began, her voice a gravelly rasp. “You’re the one they call a ‘phone whisperer’?”

Liam swallowed nervously. He had never been that interested in politics. He preferred to spend his nights at home, reading comic books or studying networks of phone systems. But when his dad approached him one night, holding an expensive phone bill in his hand, he was told to come here.

“That’s… that’s what my friends call me, yes.”

From behind her came a hearty chuckle from Sean.

“Phone whisperer? Sounds like a bloody fairy tale.”

Liam’s cheeks flushed, and he looked down at his hand-me-down shoes.

“It’s not magic sir, it’s science. And I think it could be the key to turning this war in our favor.”

“Science? What do you mean?” Aisling raised a skeptical eyebrow.

Liam took a deep breath. He had tried to explain this to his father, but he couldn’t get it. He tried to simplify the description. “I know how to trigger actions through the telephone system, manipulate it so we can make calls without being traced, and to listen in on conversations we’re not supposed to hear. It’s called phone phreaking.”

There was a murmur of disbelief in the room. Aisling turned and gave a knowing glance with Sean.

“And how are we supposed to use this ‘phone phreaking’ to help fight the Brits?” she asked, her interest growing.

Liam fumbled through his bag and pulled out a small electronic device he’d rigged, with a jumble of wires connecting to buttons.

“With this. You see, each button creates a different tone that is the same used by telephone operators to control the system. So we can make any phone calls we want and disguise who we are. We can become like ghosts, coordinating our attacks without them knowing where or when they’ll happen. We can listen on their plans, their conversations, and their secrets.”

He decided to give them a demonstration. He plugged the device into the pub’s phone line. A small green lightbulb began flickering. Feeling his confidence grow, Liam pressed a few of the buttons. A moment later, the room was filled with the tinny voice of a British army officer, discussing troop movements in a confidential briefing.

As Liam placed the phone back on the hook, the room fell silent. Aisling’s eyes widened, now feeling intrigued. Sean leaned forward with a faint smile on his face.

“That, is how phone phreaking can help,” Liam grinned.