The author acknowledges the invaluable pre-publication copy-editing performed by Chris Bellamy.

Day 4 — Monday 28th June 2060 — Morning

So, Old George — George Warmsley — set crosswords for the official Government website. I had gone right back in the archive to just after the opening of the Blocks in 2030, and there was his name above the crossword grids. All the crosswords ever published there were still available for solving interactively, and all the solutions could be retrieved. Every puzzle was numbered, starting from one. The latest was number 11,347, and a quick bit of mental arithmetic told me that there must have been a crossword every day since that first puzzle.

There were six regular setters and each provided a puzzle for a specific day of the week. George’s day was Wednesday. Saturday was the competition puzzle, when setting duties were shared between the setters. George seemed to have done one a month.

Many of the puzzles were 15x15 squares, but there were also other sizes. They came in two distinct types — blocked and barred. In the blocked type about half the letters in the answers were cross-checked with other answers and not all the squares were used. These unused squares were blocked out in black. The barred type contained no blocked squares. All the squares were to contain letters, and the ends of answers, across and down, were marked by bars to the right or bottom of their final squares. These puzzles generally contained more answers, several of which were more obscure words. Only one, two or three letters in each answer, depending on length, were cross-checked with other answers.

I noticed that all the grids were symmetrical in one way or another. George appeared to have a preference for the barred type. I assumed that, because of the fewer cross-checked letters and the more challenging vocabulary, these barred puzzles were usually more difficult. The more I studied the grids, the more I realised how little I understood — and how much Old George must have been hiding in plain sight.

So much for the technical aspects of the puzzles. I studied some of them, comparing the clues to the answers, but except for a few isolated cases, I have to confess that I didn’t understand them at all. The puzzles were called ‘cryptic crosswords’ and to me they certainly were. It seemed like a secret language. Judging from the number of correct answers that the competition puzzles attracted — between five hundred to a thousand each week across all the Blocks in the UK — there was a small group of people devoted to them. Perhaps this was just one way that the Government kept us occupied. There would be others, for people with other interests. If people are living happily they won’t complain.

After it became clear that Old George and I could no longer talk in the library, he’d talked about his researches having borne fruit and then mentioned crosswords, so he must have found a way to use these puzzles as a method of secret communication. Perhaps ‘cryptic’ could become ‘encrypted’ in some way. I couldn’t help smiling. I hoped George was going to adulterate the sedative to awake its unwitting victims.

The only thing of consequence that happened this morning was breakfast, but it was consequential enough for a whole week. As I was walking to my window table, I saw that Jane was already there, which was unusual, as I normally arrived first. As usual she was sitting with her back to the window, sideways on to the table, looking into the room. I sat diagonally opposite from her so that we could talk directly to each other. I had made up my mind to be bold.

“Hi,” I said, “I keep thinking of you as ‘Jane’ ... ”

“Why Jane?” she interrupted. “Do I look like a Jane?”

“Well, if you really want to know,” I replied. “In my researches into life before the Blocks I’ve gathered many bits of trivial information. One of them is that when police in the USA came across an unidentified body, they called it John Doe if it was male and Jane Doe if it was female.”

“Oh,” she got in quickly, a severe look on her face, “You think I look like a corpse?”

“No. Of course not,” I said quickly, blushing.

“I’m glad to hear it.” And then I saw with relief the bewitching smile that I had noticed she could turn on at times. She continued, “My allotted name is Ellie Gregson. And you are Billy Williams! So now we have been introduced.”

“How ...” I stuttered.

“Old George told me.”

“You know Old George?” I asked in wonder.

“Since I was straight out of school.”

“So you meeting me here has been a set up?”

“Certainly, but with no malice aforethought,” she replied, again with that bewitching smile. If she was trying to recruit me, it was certainly working. I was definitely smitten, as I had been since I first met her a few weeks ago.

“OK,” I said, “But don’t we have to be careful what we say here?”

“And everywhere else,” she confirmed. “But they haven’t learned anything so far today that they didn't know already. They know about my connection to George and you’ve been watched since Peter Evans disappeared. As his neighbour you are clearly a person of interest to them. I guess that is why they have assigned Mr Seaton as your next-door neighbour. They may even try to recruit you as a spy.”

All through this little speech Ellie’s countenance had been serious. She had been leaning towards me intently and, for the first time, I noticed the small, but prominent birthmark on her neck. When she sat back that smile returned and she continued, “But now, until I have to go to work, we should enjoy our breakfasts and each other’s company.”

We chatted for the next hour, mostly about each other, after which Ellie stood up and we shook hands for the first time. Then she headed to the lift to go down to floor one to catch her train to Piccadilly, wherever that was. I’d heard of Piccadilly Circus, and I knew what a circus was, but I had never heard of inmates in the Blocks being entertained by a circus. I also couldn’t imagine what use a bio technician would be in one.

I had further questions for Ellie, but they could wait. My immediate task was to read the piece of paper she had left in my hand when we shook hands. After I got into the empty lift, I held the paper close to my body so the cameras couldn’t see it. It contained just one word, in capital letters: PLAYFAIR.

Had this note been a warning, or perhaps a pointer for my further research? I assumed the latter as I hoped that I had already convinced them both that I would play fair with them. What Ellie didn’t know and what I hadn’t been able to tell her, was that I had seen her name before: she was the setter of the Sunday crossword. I had to presume that she and Old George had been communicating secretly via their puzzles.

To be continued ... hopefully!