New-night black was the bicycle, smugly shadow ensconced. Its spokes whispered secrets into a discreet wind. Strain as they might, the words slipped ears grasp, dissipating as easily as an early fog. Tree boughs stooped lower, vainly attempting an eavesdropping. Moles' ears did unplug. Even beetles paused their scurry. Owls, heads askew, puzzled. For all knew the wind was a messenger, a keeper of the code, an encryptor for the fairy folk. And, upon that enchanted thing did ride such a mage, a girl of The Velvet Cloak. Yet should her metal steed be stolen, or otherwise half-inched, a cold dead thing it would be. Magic, you see, is a personal friend, a sense of love from beyond the mortal veil - and this girl was their most treasured one.
According to our sources, the shadow government can now run all of your writings and audios through an artificial intelligence computer. From the subcomponents of your language and word choices, from the metaphors you chose, they can determine your psychology completely and literally read all your private thoughts. If you have any online presence at all, especially in social media or creative writings, you have no secrets. They know who the criminals are, who the assholes are and who the meek are. You are all bagged and tagged in cyber space.