All three of the group decided to give the station their email accounts so they could open a line of communication with their parents and friends. They wrote from a unified front to keep the story feasible. They said they had traveled to Morocco and made up various jobs that they were doing.

Paul's parents were happy he had found a job he liked and were, of course, trying to plan a trip to meet. They were doing their best to respect, though not understand, his decision not to own a phone. He wondered how long he could string it along for.

Shige’s father wrote back saying he would be disowned if he didn’t come home immediately.

Amataya’s parents said they had some relatives living there and sent addresses. Communication with friends was equally stilted.

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They found it easier to keep things simple as possible, more detail encouraged more station editing and emails were restricted to two a week. There was always the overlying threat that if things got out of control the station would send death notices out then shut their access completely.

“I think I have lost all my friends back home already” said Shige (it was only a month since they had left).

“If you don’t turn up to the pub you aren’t a real person anyway,” laughed Paul.

“I'm not sure we are going to see anyone on earth again. I wonder where we are going to next in our made up lives?”

“Somewhere cold, none of my rallies will live there so I don’t have to offend anyone by not coming over for dinner. Its going to get tricky when the baby comes, I'm thinking of telling my parents that I lost the baby. It will break mums' heart but it might be best to break it once rather than for it to be permanently broken when she finds out she has no access to her grandchild. Family is the center of her world.”

“I feel for your position. My dads world is business first, that makes my lot easier,” said Shige.