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Starring
maradydd as Our Heroine
Also starring
yoctohedron as The Fellow Traveller
With
cipherpunk as The Co-Presenter
Featuring cameos by, um, something like half of LJ
Day 0: Why Can't the Buddha Vacuum Under His Sofa?
(FADE IN on
maradydd in the guest room at her parents' place, busily hacking away on her laptop and chatting on IM.)
enochsmiles: ... and there won't be nearly as many idiot script kiddies there as there will be at DefCon.
maradydd: Sounds like a good time. I'll have to see if I can make it another year. (pause) Huh. There's this weird clicking sound coming from my hard drive.
enochsmiles: You are so fucked.
HARD DRIVE: *dies*
maradydd: I am so fucked.
(Cue INTRO SEQUENCE, a fast-paced montage of packing, cleaning and other pre-trip preparations set to a guitar-heavy instrumental that could be attributed to Oingo Boingo.
maradydd considers a wide assortment of possible things to pack, including various bits of camping equipment, several dozen books alternately removed from and replaced on the bookshelf (finally settling on Modern C++ Design, C++ Template Metaprogramming and A Fire Upon the Deep), clothing in styles ranging from Early Modern Goth to Mid-80s Berkeley Hacker, a 2-meter antenna, and an elegantly designed wooden box which appears to be some kind of scientific instrument (this latter is, ultimately, not included.) She lugs an overstuffed travel bag and a backpack downstairs, piles into an SUV with her father, and heads off down the freeway. As the sun comes up over the horizon, we realise that she has been up all night. Yes, again.)
Day 1: Fun and Games with the TSA
(The SUV pulls up in front of Hobby Airport, and
maradydd gets out and collects her baggage.)
maradydd: Bye, Dad! I'll be sure to call.
(She shoulders the backpack, hefts the suitcase, and heads into the airport. Jump cut to...)
THE SECURITY CHECK-IN LINE
(Passengers filter through the checkpoint while tired-looking agents drone on and on about how you're encouraged to take off your shoes.
maradydd dutifully removes her laptop from its bag, empties her pockets and passes through the metal detector. As she's gathering up her stuff on the other side, an AGENT holds up something small and shiny.)
AGENT: Whose is this? Whose tool is this?
maradydd: Uh, it's mine. It doesn't have a blade on it or anything.
(She unfolds the tool: a miniature Leatherman with pliers and tiny Phillips and flathead screwdrivers.)
AGENT: You can't take that on the plane, ma'am. No tools on the plane.
maradydd: What do you think I'm going to do, go on a mad unscrewing rampage the moment I get on the airplane?
AGENT (not amused): Ma'am, you can mail it to yourself, or you can check it with your other bag.
(
maradydd is escorted to the edge of the security area; the AGENT points out a kiosk.)
AGENT: You can go over there, if you've got a credit card, and put it in an envelope and mail it to yourself.
maradydd: And then come back over here?
AGENT: No ma'am. You'll have to come back around through security.
maradydd: That doesn't make sense. You've got a guard right there, watching everything people can do at that kiosk. What am I going to pick up in the twenty feet of floor between here and there?
AGENT (surprisingly, not getting testy): Those are the regulations, ma'am.
(
maradydd stalks over to the kiosk, holding the pliers, and deliberates for a few minutes whether to pay the $5 they're demanding for an envelope and a stamp. Finally, she grumbles and heads back to the baggage desk, putting the tool in her backpack to go check it.)
maradydd: Next time I am so putting this in my bag on the way in. As if they're going to find it.
(Fade out. Cut back in abruptly as the plane lands in San Jose and
maradydd jolts awake. A brief musical montage follows her through the airport and down to the baggage claim, where she meets up with
yoctohedron. They collect her bags, and the camera lifts away as they head out to the parking garage, engrossed in an animated conversation.
Fade back in on...)
Day 2: I'll Procrastinate Tomorrow
SCENE:
yoctohedron's apartment
yoctohedron: Here's a 2GB laptop drive that I've filled with cryptographically random data. I'm off to an anti-spam conference. Bye!
(
maradydd takes a seat on the couch and gets to work replacing parts and installing a fresh copy of Debian. The hands of the clock on the wall spin at an accelerated rate until suddenly there's a knock on the door.)
pjammer: Hello! I know you have a few slides left to finish for the talk you're giving next week, and you need to fix your laptop if you're going to be able to get any work done at all, but trust me, you really want to go have lunch and look at interesting videos I have collected, including a machinima version of the 'You can't handle the truth' scene from A Few Good Men.
maradydd: In fact, you are right. Let's go.
(They do.)
LATER
(The apartment door opens; night is descending over the city, and
yoctohedron is home.
maradydd looks up from the couch.)
maradydd: Welcome back! How was the conference?
yoctohedron: All the talks were really short and it was full of university types who don't know how to evaluate their proposed anti-spam mechanisms and decide whether they're stupid or not.
maradydd: Welcome to academia.
Day 3: You Can't Get There From Here
(It is early in the morning.
maradydd and
yoctohedron are headed southward along some Bay Area freeway or another.)
yoctohedron: ... So I'll drop you off near where
kragen works, and you can get the train to Google from there.
maradydd: Right. I'll give
writerpo a call once that's done, and we'll figure out how to meet up with you after your conference is done.
yoctohedron: Sounds good.
maradydd: This is a plan which cannot fail.
(They pass a red brick building which houses a Quizno's and some offices.
yoctohedron points out some useful landmarks, such as a Caltrain station and
kragen's office, then drops
maradydd off outside a coffeeshop and departs for Palo Alto. She finds a vacant table at the coffeeshop, orders some croissants and a mocha, and settles in to get some work done. Not long thereafter, her phone rings.
maradydd: Hello?
kragen: Hi! Um, this morning's schedule seems to have gotten completely borked, as the boss is out of town and the other guy isn't here yet, but do you still want to come by?
maradydd: Sure! Be right there.
(She packs up her toys and heads up to his office. A happy reunion and warm hugs ensue, followed by lots of chatter about geeky stuff, punctuated by witty but forgettable banter -- trust me, it was witty, okay? Eventually, the aforementioned other guy shows up, and
maradydd gives an off-the-cuff overview of some exciting and complicated math without actually having to resort to any equations. The audience gives a collective sigh of relief. But the train schedule waits for no man, and all too soon it is time to leave.)
maradydd: Well, that was fun. Next time I want to stay longer. Do I have time to catch my train?
kragen: Sure, you've got about seven minutes, that should be plenty. Give me another hug, and have fun at your Google meeting!
(She does, then hurries out the building and down the street. While she's still about two hundred meters from the station, the train pulls in. She breaks into a sprint, but doesn't have time to buy a ticket from the machine before it leaves again. She finishes making her purchase, and sits down to wait. The phone rings again.)
maradydd: Hello?
kragen: Hi! Did you make it to your train?
maradydd: Almost. I needed to buy a ticket.
kragen: Oh, whoops, forgot about that. I usually have a card.
maradydd: It's okay. I'll still get there.
(The next train shows up about ten minutes late.
maradydd arrives in Mountain View with perhaps fifteen minutes to go until her meeting, She figures out which way 101 is, and strides purposefully in the direction of the Googleplex.)
(Time passes.)
maradydd (looking around, unable to spy the freeway yet): Damn. Maybe I should have borrowed
yoctohedron's rollerblades after all.
(But arrive she does, some twenty minutes behind schedule. A tall, broadly built Canadian with a gravity-defying shock of straw-coloured, curly hair meets her at the front desk.)
CHRIS LAVOIE: Welcome to Google! I'm your Summer of Code mentor. I went to McGill University and actually have enough background in what you're doing to be useful. Let's have lunch and talk about interesting code problems and circular slide rules! And at some point you can tell me how you're doing on your project, but I'm really not worried because you submitted something that I think can actually be finished within two months.
maradydd: Sure, sounds good to me. Hey, look, all the food is free! This miso-orange salad dressing is super tasty, and the cashew chicken is yummy too. Can I work here?
CHRIS LAVOIE: Oh, probably. Here, come look at our Segways and self-service espresso bars and live jazz band and volleyball court and the hot tub full of plastic balls which usually has engineers in it but doesn't right now. Those are massage chairs, and this is a conference room which appears to be inflatable, and this is a pleasant landscaped place with fountains where people can walk around when they want some peace and quiet, and these are free T-shirts.
maradydd: Thanks.
(She takes a T-shirt.)
Hey, do they mind if people occasionally migrate to nocturnal schedules around here?
CHRIS LAVOIE: Not really.
maradydd: Okay, let me rephrase that: Who do I have to kill to work here?
(CHRIS looks unconcerned.)
(The meeting winds down, and CHRIS escorts
maradydd to the front of the Googleplex, where she is met by
writerpo. They attempt to drive to a coffeeshop in Mountain View to meet up with
yoctohedron, but miss a turn and are repeatedly thwarted by a series of no-left-turn signs.)
writerpo: It's like they don't want you to be able to come back to their city.
maradydd: "Welcome to Mountain View. Now leave!"
(But they make it there eventually. Coffee is had, the day's events are caught up on, and eventually
writerpo, who has been up since oh-dark-thirty, heads home to get some sleep.
yoctohedron and
maradydd return to San Francisco, and
maradydd takes a nap. At some point, LIZ and JOHN arrive. They hang out upstairs for a while, and
yoctohedron comes down to wake
maradydd up.)
yoctohedron: There's some goo upstairs for dinner. It's really tasty goo. Do you want some?
(That is pretty much a verbatim quote, by the way.)
(Goo -- actually a chili-like substance containing tamales and lots of cheese -- is consumed, conversation topics include LIZ's new job and why drill sergeants act the way they do, and before long, a game of Illuminati: Brainwash begins. It is a mighty contest in which the UFOs struggle to control any groups at all, the Bermuda Triangle deftly brainwashes its small power structure into possessing more and more varying alignments, the Servants of Cthulhu take over the IRS and wantonly destroy nearly every uncontrolled group on the table ... and suddenly, Discordia brainwashes a fourth group into becoming Weird.)
JOHN: Ha ha! I win!
(The four then play a deceptively simple game which involves building towers from small translucent plastic pyramids of varying sizes. This lasts for probably another forty-five minutes, then LIZ and JOHN go home.)
maradydd: I guess we can pack tomorrow.
yoctohedron: That's about when we'll figure out where we're going, too.
(Fade out.)
...to be continued
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
Also starring
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
With
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
Featuring cameos by, um, something like half of LJ
Day 0: Why Can't the Buddha Vacuum Under His Sofa?
(FADE IN on
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
HARD DRIVE: *dies*
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
(Cue INTRO SEQUENCE, a fast-paced montage of packing, cleaning and other pre-trip preparations set to a guitar-heavy instrumental that could be attributed to Oingo Boingo.
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
Day 1: Fun and Games with the TSA
(The SUV pulls up in front of Hobby Airport, and
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
(She shoulders the backpack, hefts the suitcase, and heads into the airport. Jump cut to...)
THE SECURITY CHECK-IN LINE
(Passengers filter through the checkpoint while tired-looking agents drone on and on about how you're encouraged to take off your shoes.
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
AGENT: Whose is this? Whose tool is this?
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
(She unfolds the tool: a miniature Leatherman with pliers and tiny Phillips and flathead screwdrivers.)
AGENT: You can't take that on the plane, ma'am. No tools on the plane.
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
AGENT (not amused): Ma'am, you can mail it to yourself, or you can check it with your other bag.
(
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
AGENT: You can go over there, if you've got a credit card, and put it in an envelope and mail it to yourself.
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
AGENT: No ma'am. You'll have to come back around through security.
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
AGENT (surprisingly, not getting testy): Those are the regulations, ma'am.
(
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
(Fade out. Cut back in abruptly as the plane lands in San Jose and
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
Fade back in on...)
Day 2: I'll Procrastinate Tomorrow
SCENE:
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
(
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
(They do.)
LATER
(The apartment door opens; night is descending over the city, and
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
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![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
Day 3: You Can't Get There From Here
(It is early in the morning.
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
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![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
(They pass a red brick building which houses a Quizno's and some offices.
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
(She packs up her toys and heads up to his office. A happy reunion and warm hugs ensue, followed by lots of chatter about geeky stuff, punctuated by witty but forgettable banter -- trust me, it was witty, okay? Eventually, the aforementioned other guy shows up, and
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
(She does, then hurries out the building and down the street. While she's still about two hundred meters from the station, the train pulls in. She breaks into a sprint, but doesn't have time to buy a ticket from the machine before it leaves again. She finishes making her purchase, and sits down to wait. The phone rings again.)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
(The next train shows up about ten minutes late.
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
(Time passes.)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
(But arrive she does, some twenty minutes behind schedule. A tall, broadly built Canadian with a gravity-defying shock of straw-coloured, curly hair meets her at the front desk.)
CHRIS LAVOIE: Welcome to Google! I'm your Summer of Code mentor. I went to McGill University and actually have enough background in what you're doing to be useful. Let's have lunch and talk about interesting code problems and circular slide rules! And at some point you can tell me how you're doing on your project, but I'm really not worried because you submitted something that I think can actually be finished within two months.
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
CHRIS LAVOIE: Oh, probably. Here, come look at our Segways and self-service espresso bars and live jazz band and volleyball court and the hot tub full of plastic balls which usually has engineers in it but doesn't right now. Those are massage chairs, and this is a conference room which appears to be inflatable, and this is a pleasant landscaped place with fountains where people can walk around when they want some peace and quiet, and these are free T-shirts.
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
(She takes a T-shirt.)
Hey, do they mind if people occasionally migrate to nocturnal schedules around here?
CHRIS LAVOIE: Not really.
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
(CHRIS looks unconcerned.)
(The meeting winds down, and CHRIS escorts
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
(But they make it there eventually. Coffee is had, the day's events are caught up on, and eventually
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
(That is pretty much a verbatim quote, by the way.)
(Goo -- actually a chili-like substance containing tamales and lots of cheese -- is consumed, conversation topics include LIZ's new job and why drill sergeants act the way they do, and before long, a game of Illuminati: Brainwash begins. It is a mighty contest in which the UFOs struggle to control any groups at all, the Bermuda Triangle deftly brainwashes its small power structure into possessing more and more varying alignments, the Servants of Cthulhu take over the IRS and wantonly destroy nearly every uncontrolled group on the table ... and suddenly, Discordia brainwashes a fourth group into becoming Weird.)
JOHN: Ha ha! I win!
(The four then play a deceptively simple game which involves building towers from small translucent plastic pyramids of varying sizes. This lasts for probably another forty-five minutes, then LIZ and JOHN go home.)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
(Fade out.)
...to be continued
(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-04 10:47 pm (UTC)