March 2020
Bay Area (CA)
Dazed, Johnny stared at the clock on his ringing phone. 5:43 AM. He tried to do the math on Taiwan and India time, failed, cursed, then resigned to answer with his eyes closed up again.
- "Johnny," he rasped. He heard a single intake of air before the three-minute shrieking started.
- "Johnny! What have you been doing?! Where the hell have you been?! I can't believe I thought I could trust you! Is this about money, Johnny? Are you fishing for more?!... Johnny, for God's sake! They're literally killing people! Right here and right now! They're killing people."
- "Ah, er, Testa, Dee, Cee! Who is killing people? Dee, Cee? Who is killing people?"
-"Hablar! Damn it! They are killing people over there! You were supposed to keep the situation under control!"
- "Pablar? What? You said they were fine. That they were stupid. There was nothing to worry about. Hallar, was it?"
- "Stop it, Johnny! Stop being a petulant child! You should have listened to me the first time! And I thought I could trust you! Oh, I feel so let-down again."
Johnny thought he heard a snicker. He figured it gave him a second to gather his barely awoken mind together. “Johnny, we need all the analytics, and I mean: tomorrow. You know funding’s not an issue. Identify, track, disappear or destroy. You know these people haven’t even installed an API for us, like Jack and Mark did. So I expect you to be aggressive, Johnny. And smart. Do you think you can do that?”
- “Erm… eh…” Johnny gave another look at the clock, then decided to definitely wake up. “Yes, Cee, absolutely! You’ll have a first report in your inbox tomorrow PM. No way are we going to sit by while these people question the experts. I’ll get you the metrics, ASAP. Then you let me know where to take it from there, API or no API. This Kung Flu stuff is everybody’s business!”
- “Johnnyyyyy!” Cee shrieked as Johnny had to wake up all over again.
Signal chat – “operations channel” – places various and unknown
Wayne: hey, how bout that surge, huh?
Danny: this is it I was telling you
Bob: just the beginning, folks, remember that
Wayne: 👍🏻
Bob: this is where the hard pulling starts. no product, no show, no public, no payoff
That’s why I called the meeting. Platform’s still crap. Couldn’t even log on this
morning. What’s Travis doing? We keep returning to this point.
…..
Bob: Wayne?
Wayne: You asking me?
Bob: Yes I’m fucking asking you. He’s your guy. Your pick. And he’s fumbling.
You buddies or something? Fine. Don’t care. But right now he’s sinking the
platform. And that’s before it ever started floating.
Wayne: C’mon, Bob. he’s on it 24 hours on 7. I chip in some, too. It’s getting better.
Bob: What is getting better? Wasting an opportunity is worse than not having it at all.
You have your piles of people. Then they walk aware remembering you like a
dumpster fire. You want that, Wayne? Being remembered like that? Get on it.
Or it’s arrivefuckingderci Travis. May be doing him a favor that way.
Wayne: C’mon, Bob, it’s all about resources. Who’re you gonna ask? I mean, to work
nights. all the crazy requests. Half the time we don’t know what we’re asking.
Danny: Okay, okay, let’s calm down a moment. We set up a path of targets for him to
perform? He doesn’t, he’s out? But you work out plan B, now, Wayne.
Wayne: And who’s gonna pay for plan B?
Bob: I was gonna ask the same thing, Danny.
Danny: ?
Bob: Last month you at the door waving this wad of cash at us. Some of us would like
to know.
Danny: Cash? not me.
Bob: Ah, right. Coin.
Danny: And it’s not me, Bob. You know that. It’s my entity.
Bob: Right. Your entity.
Danny: And that’s not why I’m on the meeting right now. You needed someone to run operations. We’re still negotiating my contract. Wasn’t that coming from your end, Wayne?
Wayne: Still waiting for an answer.
Danny: Well, how ’bout that.
Bob: Everybody running their own circles. Don’t. It’s illusions. Stop entertaining yourself. Selves. Rubber’s gonna hit the road. There was something else.
Danny: ?
Bob: Those terms of service, Wayne. You still copy/pasting them?
Wayne: huh yeah
Bob: So someone reached out to me, saying she was being doxed. No I’ve told you from the start. I’ve been very clear. We are not going to be Twitter with bad design and graphics.
Wayne: I’m sure they’re just saying that. How’s that my problem?
Danny: ever hear of liability, Wayne?
Wayne: freedom of fucking speech. that’s what I say. action 230. not my problem.
Danny: can you explain, Bob? my exasperometer is hitting the limit. Bad for my heart.
Bob: sure Dan. Thought you ran operations. I guess we’re talking legal now.
Danny: Right. I’m working on it.
Wayne: Working on what? Don’t you think the CE fucking O oughta know?
Danny: Listen, Wayne. If you go on treating the law like it’s one of your toys, there’s a bunch of law firms ready to come and strip you naked. And that’s before or after Uncle Sam is doing you.
Bob is right. We didn’t sign up to become a deep state doxing tool like Twitter.
I think I found someone. Nothing definitive. But we can at least keep pushing some of this stuff out until we hit the bingo.
Bob: What are you working on? Who are you working on?
Danny: It’s this lawyer. Well, sort of a lawyer.
Wayne: ?
Danny: Don’t think you’ve heard of her.
Bob: ???
Danny: Rylie Romkoffyatt.
Wayne: She Russian? ❤️
Bob: jeez fucking christ Wayne
Danny: no she not Russian
Wayne: ‘kay. just thought. the name..
Danny: yeah that of some ex of hers. Obstipationist.
Wayne: obstirpationist what are you talking about.
Danny: no. Obstipationist. They’re sort of in our corner. politically. But they live in a world of their own. mind over matter stuff
Bob: like Lalaland
Danny: that’s what I needed to talk to you about. These people, they’re sorta against god
Bob: jeez fucking christ Danny
Danny: yeah, that’s what I thought you would say
Wayne: so where is she from?
Danny: Cali
Bob: jeez fucking christ Danny. I can’t believe this shit.
Wayne: yeah Jeeziss Danny. I thought we were on the same page.
Danny: relax, now. I’m just vetting her for now.
Wayne: 😜🤣 did you hear that, Bob? he just vetting her
Bob: yeah when did you start vetting people, Dan?
Danny: listen. I take her to lunch. We talk. I figure out whether we can trust her. In any case, she was on Cucker.
Wayne: on Cucker? nice
Bob: why was she on Cucker?
Danny: it was some item on feminism. Fox couldn’t find a feminist to talk to.
Bob: A fucking feminist? Is that what you’re saying? what the f’s wrong with you?
Danny: listen relax. We’re not crossing that bridge yet. I’ll let you know. In any case, she’s cheap.
Wayne: I thought you said she was a lawyer? How’s that cheap?
Danny: I said a lawyer sort of. She doesn’t practice. She has a podcast. Siren’s Call.
Little Rock (AR)
Jackie Rollton walked out from his pillared porch. He crossed the yard, past the budding flower beds, towards the tall figure awkwardly climbing out of the back of an Uber on the roadside. The car had driven off when he finished uncurling his back, latching on to Jackie’s outstretched hand.
- “Glad to finally meet you, Danny.” He shared a generous, toothy smile. “Glad you could fly out here.”
- “Yeah, well, if we’re gonna do this off-DC thing, may as well start off DC.” He looked at the yard, the house, and back at Jackie. “I was in DC ten days ago. Rat-infested hellhole. If we started there, we may as well start planning our own funeral.”
Jackie laughed languidly, patting Danny on the back, smoothly turning him, and leading him up to the house. “I bet we can find a drink inside.”
Nashville (TN)
Travis cursed. All this traffic. Of course something was going to break. Last week’s workaround was going to snap and God knew how fast they were going to be on the phone with him. Which reminded him: he still had to look at that patch from January. He was pretty sure that was where some of those new glitches had started. But when? Since last night, Wayne was pushing him on fixing the back button in the submenu. And always the mealy-mouthed talk about some bonusthat would never come. But who knew – Travis told himself – what all this traffic would lead to.
There was something strange, though. For a year, all he had seen pass through was all this lame political stuff. The stuff he needed to hide from his friends and family. From the coding community. But now ¡Hablar! looked like a fucking medical bulletin. As if any bit related to this fucking flu that did not fit in on corporate and ‘social’ media was pushed out to their little pressure valve, reservoir included. There was no hypotheses likely, or no health advice common-sensical enough not to find a spot on these pages, facilitated by his code. He scratched the stubble on his chin.