This is fact, not the media kind: I've tried to reach Dimitri by phone a few times since Termination, indeed Mr. T. helped me find a working number (forwarded to his own). A lady sounding like Guy there took my name, number and request for DM to call. But he hasn't. He just keeps posting as Guy, as Tim, as Nuri, muliple Adams, Johns, Jims, Peters, anons, and so on, each of the imposters posing as others. Remember this fact, Tim/Dimitri were in cahoots to nuke the legacy toaderpunks from day one, pretending to be halves of evil twins. (Note the overlapping name spelling.) Still, shifting back to media, the five of us in Manhattan -- Perry, Dimitri, Guy, Duncan (Ray's in Brooklyn -- hundreds more don't openly affinity) hate each other's guts with infinite passion as is the duty of citizens competing for dole here, especially since 20 millions of us are on the dole, thank you Mr. Roosevelt for legalizing taxing/extoriting/wall streeting the rest of the globe beyond the Hudson and Fire Island, from itzy-ritzy bankers to scum of the media sapoid. Primarily, though, our full-time role is to hide from each other and the vengeful planet, have our machines say things like, speak to my agent, my lawyer, my mate, then flip a switch to the voice of the referent saying things like, he's not in, he's traveling, he's away, his son's just been killed skiing, he'll get back, cackle like Freddie. Shifting back to fact: Dimitri's lady who took my name was: Dimitri, Guy, Perry, Duncan, Ray, any of Dimitri's manifold enemies and friends, any of you. Who knows who's here? Nothing I've seen proves cypherpunks exists: I've seen Ray twice and he wasn't the same. I've seen Duncan twice and he wasn't the same. Neither recognized me either. We've all introduced ourselves to Jim Kallstrom as one another, and did the same to several of Kallstrom's stand-ins. Mark this: "Perry Metzger" for certain is non-existent, it's only a mail drop, a chalk mark, a can by the road, a highly paid fictional security scam: Pay or plonk. Cooped cops and holed-up criminals do, up the kazoo. I say for a fact the crypto/cypherpunk/cops/spooks game's one bird doing a solo dance. Who that bird is, works for, remains to be reported reliably: an impossibility by definition. 100 to 1 it's a rogue bot, buried in a bridge caisson, powered by tidal flow or planetary rotation, unstoppable until earth freezes, burns or implodes to infinite deception. Dimitri was not terminated, can't be, he never was, like the rest of us highly classified phantasms. Adam Back got the story right, he's exchanging messages with a bot mirroring his inner evil, call that Tim, call it Dimitri, he'll call back as the One True Terminator you don't want to meet, ever, but will.