Going Zero

by Anthony McCarten

visa-overstaying Moldovan father of three who owns the medallion.

I don't know about Boston, but in NYC those medallions cost a fortune. Most cab drivers probably don't own the medallions they drive under.

SO THEY HAVE MY FACE, she thinks. Almost certainly.

Do you not remember looking into the ATM camera ten minutes ago?

“Look at your hands. In dreams, our brain finds them hard to draw. Your palms will look weird; you may have extra fingers. And if you look at your feet, half the time they won’t quite reach the ground.”

Right, because people commonly find themselves wondering if they're dreaming and have the presence of mind to administer tests.

the case that, in many ways, has spawned all this. Love you, Michael, he thinks. Love you, bro . . .

Yes, we get it, it's not clever or interesting.

“Now you’re screwed” they spell out in sparkles.

Fuck you.

Has a reasonable throwing arm. If she fails, then she fails.

Do you know for a fact that there will be signal above ground in this spot? Because if you don't, this is a damn thin reed to rest your life on.

“Lesson number two,” he tells her as he pours her a coffee from a glass pot, pushes it over.

A glass of lemonade followed immediately by a cup of coffee. Very normal.

“You look great, by the way,” he adds. “Boy, it’s been good to catch up.”

This book could be much more interesting if it didn't tell us up front who the main character is.

a small sheet of polythene, rolled and twisted through the core of the rope wrap;

I don't buy this for a second.

she saws off roots

These would not burn well.

“You’re nicer than a fox”

The cutesy bullshit is tiresome.

Chinos guy stutters. “B-but, Cy, um, clearances for our ground teams to get up there? Permissions?”

It strikes me as deeply unlikely that a guy trying to win a government contract would do something that the government would almost certainly object to him doing.

Sonia: “Deputy Director Walker on the line, also. Sir? Urgent.”

Zero chance.

“But why is she going to the airport?”

Is this truly not obvious to you?

His voice jumps in volume. “My call. My call. Follow her with the drone.”

Your ass would go to jail.

that underground parking garage, unobserved,

Toronto airport parking doesn't have CCTV? Seems implausible!

“Put this in your scenario and smoke it,”

Shut up, idiot.

Weeping Angel.

shut up.

Wrote his first code, and developed technology to rapidly repair bespoiled reputations, inoculate that vulnerability, and allow a damaged figure or brand to do even better than before.

Not how that works.

BRYCE CANYON, UTAH

It's stupid to introduce these people and immediately have them all captured. There's no time for suspense to build.

“We would not disagree with that assessment.”

This is a weird and irritating wrinkle to randomly throw in.

the six painkillers she gulped aren’t doing anything other than making her head swim,

ibuprofen doesn't do this.

You posed the right question.” “Oh yeah? And what question would that be?” The agent shrugs. “Surely not everybody was kung fu fighting?”

Have you ever heard a joke before?

She recalls how he once told her his theory of why human beings had never met any aliens. “All

Not his theory.

progress bar appears on his screen to measure his success.

Yeah, very subtle. No one will notice this.

Probably employed some cloaking software, which is good and bad. Bad, in that we can’t see what he found, good in that whatever he was up to, he took unusual care to cover his tracks. I’m still inside Cy’s laptop, and I can tailgate him again, but that forty-five minutes is lost to us. If I had a team of hackers, real pros, maybe I could’ve burst through those new firewalls to see what he was up to, but I can’t do that on my own.” He holds up both hands, surrendering.

Idiot nonsense.

Steps out the cigarette.

Did we forget how to write?

Yet.

Fuck you.

“He was an agent.

Not a term an actual CIA employee would use.

The Center for New Consciousness, yurts for readings and workshops, music, art, poetry, face painting, breathing workshops. They begin to laugh, for the first time in days.

What in the world makes you think the reader gives a shit about this?

“I’m filming you! Your actions are being livestreamed!”

This is so fucking idiotic.

DataGate.

fuck off.