and paper is perhaps a sublimation of the staff’s hidden desire for immortality. Or maybe this whole Bill thing is actually the subconscious manufacture of God.
After Nintendo I mountain-biked around the Campus, delaying my venture into shipping hell. I saw a cluster of Deadheads looking for magic mushrooms out on the west lawn beside the second-growth forest. Fall is just around the corner.
The trees around Campus are dropping their leaves. It’s been strange weather this spring and summer. The newspaper says the trees are confused and they’re shedding early this year.
Todd was out on the main lawn training with the Microsoft intramural Frisbee team. I said hello. Everyone looked so young and healthy. I realized that Todd and his early-20s cohorts are the first Microsoft generation — the first group of people who have never known a world without an MS-DOS environment. Time ticks on.
They’re also the first generation of Microsoft employees faced with reduced stock options and, for that matter, plateauing stock prices. I guess that makes them mere employees, just like at any other company. Bug Barbecue and I were wondering last week what’s going to happen when this new crop of workers reaches its inevitable Seven-Year Programmer’s Burnout. At the end of it they won’t have two million dollars to move to Hilo and start up a bait shop with, the way the Microsoft old-timers did. Not everyone can move into management.
Discarded.
Face it: You’re always just a breath away from a job in telemarketing. Everybody I know at the company has an estimated time of departure and they’re all within five years. It must have been so weird — living the way my Dad did — thinking your company was going to take care of you forever.
A few minutes later I bumped into Karla walking across the west lawn. She walks really quickly and she’s so small, like a little kid.
It was so odd for both of us, seeing each other outside the oatmeal walls and oyster carpeting of the office. We stopped and sat on the lawn and talked for a while. We shared a feeling of conspiracy by not being inside helping with the shipping deadline.
I asked her if she was looking for ‘shrooms with the Deadheads, but she said she was going nuts in her office, and she just had to be in the wild for a few minutes in the forest beside the Campus. I thought this was such an unusual aspect of her personality, I mean, because she’s so mousy and indoorsy-looking. It was good to see her and for once to not have her yelling at me to stop being a nuisance. We’ve worked maybe ten offices apart for half a year, and we’ve never once really talked to each other.
I showed Karla some birch bark I’d peeled off a tree outside Building Nine and she showed me some scarlet sumac leaves she had found in the forest. I told her about the discussion Marty, Antonella, Harold, and I had been having about dogs and cats over at Nintendo’s staff picnic tables. She lay down on the ground and thought about this, so I lay down, too. The sun was hot and good. I could only see the sky and hear her words. She surprised me.
She said that we, as humans, bear the burden of having to be every animal in the world rolled into one.
She said that we really have no identity of our own.
She said, “What is human behavior, except trying to prove that we’re not animals?”
She said, “I think we have strayed so far away from our animal origins that we are bent on creating a new, supra-animal identity.”
She said, “What are computers but the Every AnimalMachine?”
I couldn’t believe she was talking like this. She was like an episode of
She said, “Imagine being a bee and living in a great big hive. You would have no idea that tomorrow was going to be any different than today. You could return to that same hive a thousand years later and there would be just the same perception of tomorrow as never being any different. Humans are completely different. We assume tomorrow is another world.”
I asked her what she meant, and she said, “I mean that the animals live in another sense of time. They can never have a sense of history because they can never see the difference between today and tomorrow.”
I juggled some small rocks I found beside me. She said she didn’t know I could juggle and I told her it was something I learned by osmosis in my last product group.
We got up and walked together back to Building Seven. I pushed my bike. We walked over the winding white cement path speckled with crow shit, past the fountains, and through the hemlocks and firs.
Things seem different between us now, as if we’ve somehow agreed to agree. And God, she’s skinny! I think I’m going to bring her snacks to eat tomorrow while she works.
I hope this isn’t like feeding a raccoon.
Worked until just past midnight and came back home. Had a shower. Three bowls of Corn Flakes and ESPN. My weekends are no different than my weekdays. One of these days I’m going to vanish up to someplace beautiful like Whidbey Island and just veg for two solid days.
Todd is compressing code this week and as a sideline invented what he calls a “Prince Emulator”—a program th@ converts whatever you write into a title of a song by Minnesotan Funkmeister, Prince. I sampled it using part of today’s diary.
A few minutz 18r I bumpd in2 Karla walkng akros the west lawn. She walkz rEly kwikly & she’z so smal, like a litl kid.
It wuz so odd 4 both uv us, C-ng Ech uthr outside the otmeel walz + oystr karpetng uv the ofiss. We stopd & s@ on the lawn + talkd 4 a wile. We shared a fElng uv konspiraC by not B-ng inside helpng with the shippng dedline.
I askd hr if she wuz lookng 4 shroomz with the Dedhedz, but she sed she wuz going nutz in hr ofiss, & she just had 2 B in the wild 4 a few minutz in the 4St B-side the Kampus. I thot this wuz such an unuzual aspekt uv hr prsonaliT, I mEn, B-kuz she’z so mowsy + indorzy lookng. It wuz good 2 C hr & 4 once 2 not hav hr yellng @ me 2 stop B-ng a noosanss. We’v wrkd mayB 10 officz apart 4 half a yEr, + we’v nevr once rEly talkd 2 Ech uthr.
I showd Karla sum brch bark I’d pEld off a trE outside Bildng 9 & she showd me sum skarlet soomak lEvz she had found in the 4St. I told hr about the diskussion MarT, AntonLa, Harold, + I had B-n havng about dogz & katz ovr @ Nin-10-do’z staf piknik tablz. She 1A down on the ground + thot about this, so 11A down, 2. The sun wuz hot & good. I kould only C the sky + hear hr wrdz. She srprizd me.
She sed th@ we, az humnz, bear the brdn uv havng 2 B evry animl in the wrld rold in2 1.
She sed th@ we rEly hav no identiT uv our own.
She sed, “Wh@ iz human B-havior, X-ept tryng 2 proov th@ w’r not animalz?”
She sed, “I think we hav strAd so far awA from our animal originz th@ we R bent on kre8ng a noo, soopra- animal idNtiT.”
She sed, “Wh@ R komputrz but the Evry AnimalMashEn?”
I kouldn’t B-IEv she wuz talkng like this. She wuz like an episode uv
She sed, “Imagin B-ng a B + livng in a gr8 big hive. You would hav no idea th@ 2morow wuz going 2 B any difrent than 2d A. You kould retrn 2 th@ same hive 1,000 yearz latr & ther would B just the same prception uv 2morow az nevr B-ng any difrent. Humanz R kompletely difrent. We asoom 2morow iz anuthr wrld.”
I askd hr wot she ment, + she sed, “I meen th@ the animalz liv in anuthr sens uv time. They kan nevr hav a sens uv history B-kuz they kan nevr C the difrenss B-twEn 2dA & 2morow.”
I juggld sum smal rokz I found B-side me. She sed she didnt kno I kould juggl + I told hr it wuz sumthing I lrnd by ozmosis in my last produkt groop.
We got up & walkd 2gethr bak 2 Bildng 7. I pushd my bike. We walkd ovr the windng wite Cment path spekld with krow shit, past the fountunz, + thru the hemlokz & frz.
I reread the Prince Version and realized th@ after a certain point, real language decomposes into encryption code; Japanese.
%43]505)%I$])3D=%5D526524Y'0T]24D5#5$Q954Y&3U(@$)$#L!PZ</
4.!.6D9UBPEE0^Y82AKUT!R0.$$G[X9I_^F@0(#B.&!@*4_TOTK#]TJ
