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Martin didn’t consider himself a hacker. He didn’t like the image that the label implied. Sure, as a teenager he’d experimented with the whole pose, but found that rebelling against everything all the time was just too exhausting.
He stared at the dust, letting that thought sink in until he realized his aim had drifted and he was urinating on the wall.
He went to bed. Not to sleep. To bed. Every light in the apartment was still on, as were his clothes. He lay there and thought about the implications of what had just happened, and that was when he felt the terror.
so while his eyes were open and his body was moving, his brain was not. He showered. He brushed his teeth. He shaved. Usually his brain would have slowly come awake, but Martin was actively choosing not to think.
night before had been a dazzling rollercoaster of discovery, but the morning after was, as usual, a grim slog through the bumper-to-bumper commute of reality. He had proven that the file was a tool that could improve every aspect of his life. His aching feet, twisted ankle, and jammed wrists, as well as his ruined socks and his confused neighbor, all proved that he could also ruin his life if he continued to act without thinking first.
It was only a precaution. He made the Escape button, but he hoped to never use it. As it happened, he used it within forty-eight hours.
A week ago he saw it as a fluorescent-lighted, beige-walled abattoir for the human spirit where he had to spend most of his time. Now he saw it as a fluorescent-lighted, beige-walled abattoir for the human spirit where he chose to spend most of his time. It was like a corporate-drone fantasy camp.
She said, “They certainly don’t pay us enough to justify doing our jobs,” as she left the break room. And she’s a manager, Martin thought. If I work really hard, I might get promoted to her job someday. At noon, as everyone else was going to lunch, Martin was carrying a cardboard box full of his belongings out to the car. Quitting wasn’t nearly as difficult as he’d imagined.
When his supervisor asked why he was going, Martin said, “I’d rather do something that makes me happy.” His former supervisor smiled the smile equivalent of a middle finger. “Well, with an attitude like that, we don’t want you.”
” His plan was already destroyed, but Martin saw it was a stupid plan. Keep doing something that made him miserable so he could fit in with the miserable people. What he should have tri...
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Like I said, there are a bunch of us from the future living here. We have a good thing going. We can’t let anyone screw it up, and so far you’ve shown a talent for screwing things up.”
“Stop! Did you think about what you’re about to say?” “No.” “Then take a moment. Think about what you were going to say, what you have riding on my continued good will, and how I’m likely to react to the words you were about to let fall from your mouth like a partially chewed mouthful of spoiled cheese.”
You ready?” Martin looked himself over. “I don’t think so.” “Perfect! You’re an apprentice. You’re supposed to look confused. Follow my lead,”
The red stuff is Tabasco sauce.” “Really?” “Really. If they don’t believe it’s dragon’s blood I pull the cork and let them smell it. That usually convinces them. One time I got caught putting some on my dinner. I thought I was in trouble, but everyone just thought I ate dragon blood, so in the end it helped sell the image.”
Thankfully, you are thinking now.” “And I’m horrified.” “Yes, that’s how I know you’re thinking.”
Phillip reached into his hat and pulled out a burrito. He said, “Enjoy your beef jerky,” and bit into his burrito. “You could make real food all this time?” Martin asked. “Martin,” Phillip answered, speaking with his mouth full, “have you ever once seen me eat any of that stew?”
Martin asked, “Have I told you that I’m going to miss your little pep talks?” Phillip said, “No, you haven’t.” Martin said, “There’s a reason for that.”
They watched him leave, then Phillip said, “It may surprise you to know this, Marty, but I really do hate him.” “He makes some valid points,” Martin said. “That’s a big part of why I hate him. If he were wrong about everything I could just dismiss him as a moron, but he’s not. He’s smart, probably smarter than I am, so I have to take him seriously.”
The Paris contingent had the most elaborate robes and staffs. There were four of them, named Daniel, Stephen, Mitchell, and Greg. They were all Americans. They talked at great length about French girls in such a manner that it was clear they did not know what they were talking about.
“Someone said that it didn’t look like there was any fighting, so it must’ve been magic that killed everyone, and Kludge starts talking about how he’s never liked wizards, or anybody else, but particularly wizards. He says he won’t have anybody going around wiping out towns and not inviting him.
“Do you think he can do it?” Gwen asked. Phillip smiled. “His job is to draw attention to himself and get into trouble. I don’t think he’s capable of not doing it.”
