San Francisco, California

2:14 AM

I don’t know why my life turned out like this, but I’m sure there has to be a reason. To put it simply, I’m a lost, lonely, and precocious teenager entrusted with the treasures that cyberspace has to offer. Don’t ask why, asking gets you no where. Just think about it.

So here I am, Rowena Rue, codename: Sakura. The nickname comes from a cartoon I watched when I was younger and could enjoy such entertainment. But now, I realize my life was wasted on technology. I guess you have to pull yourself out of perspective every now and then, to see where you are and where you’re going. I think I didn’t do that as often as I should have. And that’s why I am where I am.

What a pitiful life I lead.

I work for the CIA. Sometimes.

Confused? You should be. I don’t even understand my life, so I don’t expect you to understand anything through this stupid online diary that I bet no one will ever read.

My poor wasted self is employed via the CIA’s blacklister payroll. Why, do you ask? Good question. I don’t really know, but the money has to come from somewhere. You could call it a job, except I don’t have a uniform, I don’t report to anybody, I don’t even go in to work. I stay here, rooted at my computer, every now and then sending an email to update my handler. But that’s about it.

The CIA pulled me out of juvy when I was fourteen. I guess they thought I was talented, but I can’t even spell juvenielle. So what, am I stupid? But they said No, No you aren’t, and threw me here. Wow. What a ride. The end of my teenage years.

So here I am, poor, pitiable teenager with nothing in her life but a hefty paycheck each month to cover "equipment costs". And even that doesn’t justify the cost. Did they ever ask me to do this? Nah. Didn’t think it was worth it. Because they knew I’d say no.

But I have to admit, there are benefits. Lots of benefits. Lots that the CIA… doesn’t know about. Yet. And I hope they never will figure out what I do behind the scenes.

22 of 24 hours a day I spend being Rowena Rue, devoted protector of safety, security, and the internet, hacker of hackers, cyberspace vigilante.

The other two hours? I am Sakura, the worst nightmare of bankers, criminals, businessmen, all around the world. And because of certain immunity policies that come with working partially with the CIA… I am invincible. …When I’m not hungover.

When your life revolves around a computer, your diet tends to consist of gummy worms and heavy vodka, with a couple Big Macs and Poptarts thrown in for fun. Amazingly, I don’t even gain a pound. Don’t ask me how that works.

Don’t even ask how I can type a mile a minute without my fingers being tired, or how I can look so good and sexy when no one’s even hear but me and the computers.

Don’t ask why I don’t need glasses, staring at a computer screen all day, or why I need no coffee to stay awake for days at a time. Don’t even ask.

Those two hours a day are my motivation, my fuel.

Taking time out of my workday to bomb a couple hardrives, hack a couple databases, and destroy a mainframe or two. It isn’t hard. If you got the time, the booze, and the money. And the motivation. But, oh Lord, do I have the motivation. This is my second life, my alter ego. And I love it. Sakura is my preferred self. I wish I could be Sakura all the time, but reality is never fair. Dreams are never rewarded. But I’ve found a way to compromise.

If you’ll excuse me, I need to go puke in the toilet. One of the joys of vodka.

-Sakura, 2:37 AM, CPT