Microserfs

Religious upbringing.

Karla came into the room at this point. She turned off the TV set and looked at Todd square in the eyes and said, “Todd: you exist not only as a member of a family or a company or a country, but as a member of a species—you are human. You are part of humanity. Our species currently has major problems and we’re trying to dream our way out of these problems and we’re using computers to do it. The construction of hardware and software is where the species is investing its very survival, and this construction requires zones of peace, children born of peace, and the absence of code-interfering distractions. We may not achieve transcendence through computation, but we will keep ourselves out of the gutter with them. What you perceive of as a vacuum is an earthly paradise — the freedom to, quite literally, line-by-line, prevent humanity from going nonlinear.”

She sat down on the couch, and there was rain drumming on the roof, and I realized that there weren’t enough lights on in the room and we were all quiet.

Karla said, “We all had good lives. None of us were ever victimized as far as I know. We have never wanted for anything, nor have we ever lusted for anything. Our parents are all together, except for Susan’s. We’ve been dealt good hands, but the real morality here, Todd, is whether these good hands are squandered on uncreative lives, or whether these hands are applied to continuing humanity’s dream.”

The rain continued.

“It’s no coincidence that as a species we invented the middle classes. Without the middle classes, we couldn’t have had the special type of mindset that consistently spits out computational systems, and our species could never have made it to the next level, whatever that level’s going to be. Chances are, the middle classes aren’t even a part of the next level. But that’s neither here nor there. Whether you like it or not, Todd, you, me, Dan, Abe, Bug, and Susan — we’re all of us the fabricators of the human dream’s next REM cycle. We are building the center from which all else will be held. Don’t question it, Todd, and don’t dwell on it, but never ever let yourself forget it.”

Karla looked at me. “Dan, let’s go out and get a Grand Slam Breakfast. I have $1.99 and it’s burning a hole in my pocket.”

Susan taped the following clipping from the Wall Street Journal to her door (which won’t be hers much longer — she’s moving soon): Sept. 3, 1993, a little while ago. The clipping was about the Japanese rainy season that started this year in June, and never ended:

A typhoon flooded the moats of Japan’s

imperial palace in downtown Tokyo.

Imperial carp fled their home for the first

time and flopped in knee-deep waters covering

one of Japan’s busiest intersections.

Susan’s “totally right-lobe” now.

I tried to find her and ask her what she meant with the article, but she was out on Capitol Hill getting pixelated with her no-doubt right-lobed grunge buddies.

Susan quit the day after she vested and began “running with the wolves”—or so she announced to all of us the morning after her Vest Fest. She unveiled her new image as we were sitting in front of our Mitsubishi home entertainment totem, eating our last few boxes of Kellogg’s Snak-Paks with plastic spoons, deconstructing old Davey and Goliath cartoons, and trying to figure out how/if to wake up my Dad, who was still passed out on Michael’s bed.

Susan’s previous image — Patagonia-wearing Northwest good girl — had been shed away for a radicalized look: bent shades, striped Fortrel too-tight top, Angela Bowie hairdo, dirty suede vest, flares, and Adidases.

“Wow,” said Bug. “What a stud.”

She stormed past us, stopped at the top of the stairs, said, “Fuck it. I’m tired of being Mary Richards. I’m off to hold up a 7-Eleven,” and then clomped down to the driveway.

I think she expected us to be a bit shocked, but you know, it’s actually really great when a person reinvents themself. We finished our Froot Loops and soy milk.

Todd came up to me later tonight and said, “Dan, I wouldn’t fuck around so much if I could meet somebody like Karla.” This freaked me out and I got this awful feeling that I think is jealousy, but I can’t be sure, because it was a new feeling, and nobody ever tells you what feelings are supposed to be like. But Todd saw this and said, “That’s not what I meant, Dan. I’m not gonna jump her. Gimme some credit. But man, where do you find someone like her?”

“Yeah, she’s something else,” I said blandly, masking my interior burn. “She’s so smart, but not just coding- smart. She thinks like a preacher, but not a by-the-books preacher. She believes in something.”

Watched an old documentary about NASA. Then afterward I saw this documentary about how codfish have been gill-netted into extinction in Newfoundland in Canada, so I went out to Burger King to get a Whaler fishwich-type breaded deep-fried filet sandwich while there was still time.

I think I’m going to keep my diary more regularly now. Karla got me to thinking that we really do inhabit an odd little nook of time and space here, and that odd or strange as this little nook may be, it’s where I live — it’s where I am.

I used to always think I had to have a reason to record my observations of the day, or even my emotions, but now I think simply being alive is more than enough reason. Unshackled!

* * *

UV rays

... arms armor ammo health

Brillo

Chicken Marsala

WW3

backlit Plexiglas

N x S x T

Tetris

Tonopah, Nevada

locate the source of urges

cat food

System Seven

Woodside

Los Altos Hills

San Jose

Space Cruiser

8

17

32

487

Superstar

Fear Uncertainty Doubt

Crashed in a cornfield

COBOL

Steak house

Calorie factory

Format?

Reject?