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by a board of twelve people in three physical locations that were secret from every GOG member, except the twelve board members. Messages were ferried by runners who traveled from country to country. A requirement of membership was that the person had to be gainfully employed with some sort of profession or trade. No job-hoppers, underemployed people, or anarchists were ever invited to be members. GOG believed that all its associates needed to be productive members of their communities and governments, so that change could be permeated from the highest levels. There were rules to follow in membership.
    None of my friends or family knew that I was a member of the organization, not even my daughter. Because of Elinor, I was very careful of the jobs I did for GOG, and they knew that I was limited because of her.
    Phone contact with other members could be made, but only with throwaway phones provided by the organization. No electronic communication was allowed. In order to locate an alternative repairman, I left a message with a phone number I memorized, using the code name I was given when I joined the movement.
    "B40 for Sim, soon," I said, leaving the message.
    I then pulled the phone apart, crushed it with my foot, dipped it in a bucket of water, and drove to a public garbage can and dumped it.
    Every communication in GOG was coded and memorized. If you couldn't memorize the codes, you weren't given membership. B40 was my codename, Sim was the designation for a SmartWired job, and "soon" meant that I needed the job done in the next forty-eight hours. The organization knew where I lived, and therefore no further communication was necessary.
    At my Aunt Saundra's insistence, Elinor and I had moved in temporarily with her when we moved to Bellingham, since her husband had passed away in an accident only a year before, and she had a large house with only her living there. After closing on the new house, and before Elinor and I moved in, I'd planned to stay there alone for a few days, leaving Elinor at Aunt Saundra's, so that I could keep a lookout for the alternative repairman who was coming to work on the new house.
    When he arrived, I would have to give him our area's codename, and he would have to give me one in return. Every codename was particular to each geographical region. Both people would have to know the region's code before they could communicate within the GOG network. The day after I left my voice message, a man showed up at my new door. I had seen his van pull up the driveway; he had Washington plates on his vehicle.
    "Tulips," I said to the six-foot, stocky man with short, sandy-blond hair, tanned skin, and a sculpted chin. He looked to be about fifty.
    Lulu barked.
    "Skagit," he responded quietly.
    I gestured to invite him into the house.
    "Joe," he offered with a smile.
    "Hi," I greeted him smiling in response.
    "Shield too?" he asked, bending down to let Lulu smell him.
    "Yeah. Everything. How much?"
    "Ten," he answered matter-of-factly, petting Lulu, who was obviously reveling in the attention.
    "Okay. Over there," I agreed, motioning toward the home's SmartWired computer.
    I handed Joe a slip of paper, and he read it.
     
    Name: Sinéad
    Password: SNL10-3-1992
     
    "You're funny," he smiled, looking up at me. "Was that the date?"
    "Yes," I replied with a smile. Wow---I guess he got it . I was surprised that he made the connection to Sinéad O'Connor's infamous Saturday Night Live performance.
    I went to my purse where I had been holding fifteen thousand dollars in cash, prepared for a hefty fee to have the work done, and retrieved it.
    "Extra for the parents," I said, handing Joe the money; the extra five thousand was for GOG. GOG members often referred to the organization as "the family," or "the parents" to avoid using the name GOG.
    The organization was operational because of gifts like this from its members. Part of membership was the expectation that the members would financially support the organization.