JPod (32 page)

• Toenail removal surgery

• Thai alligator wrangler gets arm ripped off by

alligator

• Whale explodes in Taiwan

I honestly don't know how gore websites could exist without contributions from Mexico and Southeast Asia.

Then I went through a wave of paranoia, imagining everyone in jPod rich, except me. They'll all be using their Coupland money to live on easy street while I'm mopping the aisles of Wal-Mart.

The aisles of Wal-Mart. . .

It sounds like an enchanted faraway place, doesn't it?

. . .

The phone rang. It was this guy named Bruce Pao. He's the executive whose gossamer-thin spidery handwriting is famous within the company, and bizarre enough to merit a secret web page fully devoted to interpreting its hidden meanings.

"Ethan, I picked you at random from members of the SpriteQuest team—a quality control call."

"Sure."

"Why don't you meet me for lunch?"

"Lunch?"

"That's what I said. Today. In the cafeteria. At one-thirty, after the rush dies down."

"Sure."

Click.

Steve was drinking Zima with John Doe in John's cubicle, the two of them porn trawling using Steve's executive override code. I said, "Hey, that was Bruce Pao. He wants to have lunch with me today."

This wowed Steve. "That's three cherries in a row, baby. That guy can make or break the project. What does he want?"

"Quality control he said. Random interview."

"I doubt that. Just make sure the game comes out of it sounding good. By the way, he made $3.6 million last year in stock."

. . .

Why do companies like Toblerone or Pepperidge Farm bother having websites? As if people are going to say to themselves, "Gee, I wish I knew more about Milano cookies. I know! I'll go to their site!"

Just a thought.

. . .

Oh God, I succumbed . . .

Milano® Cookies

Milano®, our most popular Distinctive cookie, is a satisfying combination of rich, dark chocolate sandwiched between two exquisite cookies.

. . .

Bruce and I met by the coffee command centre at the cafeteria's entrance. He was in his suit, looking out of place, like your parents at a wedding party, dancing to gangsta. I said, "You came all the way from downtown to see
me?"

The special of the day was veal Prince Orloff with baked pears Felicia for dessert. "I'm going to go straight to dessert."

"Smart."

We got our food and sat down. "So, tell me about SpriteQuest. Tell me something passionate. Something inspired."

I realized I had to make a plea here for Ronald's life. I began to speak, and as I did, I felt like I was taking a shit in the woods—you know, it's fine, but it also feels totally wrong at the same time. "Bruce, SpriteQuest is just the best project ever. It rocks. It's kickass."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah. We're so stoked, and, I don't know... It's got this great aura about it—like we're making some sort of big leap forward game-wise."

Bruce said, "You know, Ethan, incremental improvements never win. We have to be vision busters."

Vision busters?
"You said it, man."

"Tell me, Ethan, what are your favourite parts of the game?"

This was going to be a toughie, as I had none.
Think, Ethan, think.
"I like the way a player really gets inside Prince Amulon's head.
Why
does he want to find the sword? Sure, he needs it to enter the fire level, but the backstory of his father being killed battling with the Dark Warlord makes it personal. And the sprites' storage vault? Man, that place just
smokes.
And the way we retroed converted skateboards into Happy Carpets was totally inspired."

Bruce seemed mildly interested, so I said, "Hey, there's a rumour going around that the game's in trouble."

Now he seemed mildly surprised. "Oh?"

"Yeah. You can't kill it. It's such a great game, and the company needs it to establish itself as a creator of a quality fantasy franchise."

I didn't know what more to say, nor did Bruce. I ate a bite of dessert while he began to look bored.
Shit I wasn't being enthusiastic
enough.

Bruce said, "Your brother, Greg, sells real estate."

"Yeah. You know him?"

"Slightly."

"Did you go to school together?"

"No."

More bites of dessert. What a disastrous meeting.

Then Bruce said, "Actually, your brother's selling this place up at Whistler that I have an eye on. A nice little chalet."

"Oh?"

"Yes. He is."

The meeting was suddenly making sense. "Which part of Whistler?"

"The Maui North development."

"Pricey."

"You can't put a price on a dream."

What is it with these marketing executives and their love of crap phrases? "Any specific house or property?"

"Lot 49."

"Have you bid?"

"Yes. But someone else bid before me."

"Bummer."

"Yes. It is."

"Why Lot 49?"

Bruce looked around the room and lowered his voice. "Because I don't believe in the future. I think we're all doomed. A survivalist organization I belong to singled out the Whistler/Pemberton Valley region as the most hospitable given a multiple global warming, dirty bomb, crop failure and SARS Classic scenario. Especially properties like Lot 49, which has a year-round stream capable of generating twenty thousand kilowatts of electricity using only a minimal rotary conversion system."

I see.

During the pause that followed, I felt adult—
me
being in on a secret and being powerful enough to pull strings. "Why don't I call Greg tonight?"

"Yes. Give him a shout. But don't take too much time away from your work. We want SpriteQuest to be a smash."

. . .

I walked back to jPod to phone my brother. Kaitlin was fluffing some recently washed hug machine cozies, Cowboy was chugging acid pink cough syrup, Evil Mark was watching hockey fight MPEGs on some Russian website and Bree was glued to stars with-out makeup. com, a site that she estimates has sucked a half-billion people-years of productivity from the global economy.

Steve was sitting at my desk, speaking on the phone in his "old Steve" voice to somebody in the marketing division. "All right-a-roony. That's a yes from this camper . . . best team in the country. Workaholics. I tell them to slow down, but their drive is unstoppable. You got it." Steve hung up, looked around and said, "Come on, you lazy little fucks. You have to do
something
here in this wretched pod. I can't cover your asses forever."

Cowboy said, "Steve, fuck off."

The rhythm of John Doe's typing was growing more manic over on his side of the baffles.

"John, are you okay in there?" Steve asked.

It turns out somebody had sent John the first million digits of pi, and the beauty of it had reduced him to a jittery mess. I said, "John, pi is cool and all, but how come you're falling apart over it?"

"Ethan, pi is essentially a string of random numbers. Here's a fun fact: the chances of finding your phone number inside the first hundred million digits of pi—minus the area code—is 99.997 percent. To find your number
with
area code becomes a bit less than one percent—even to find fake movie numbers like (212) 555—1234."

"I know you have the autism thing going for you, but what's the big deal?"

"The
deal,
Ethan, is that news like this will spur people on to buy lottery tickets."

"How?"

"If people locate their phone number inside pi's first million digits, it'll make them feel lucky, and before you know it, they'll go out and throw money away on lottery tickets."

"John, regardless of your mathematics, somebody always does wind up winning the lottery, so what's the point of stressing?" Kaitlin said. "And while we're on the subject, what exactly is your beef with lottery tickets?"

"My
beef is
that my father won the Irish Sweepstakes when I was two and left my mother, who overreacted and became a power lesbian. It's a family legend. As a result I was home-schooled and didn't even know that capitalized letters existed until I was ten."

"What do lesbians have against capitalized letters?"

"Capitalization implies a hierarchy, that some letters are more special than others."

"Oh."

Meanwhile, Mark—possibly the most pragmatic of anyone in jPod, located a pi website with the first hundred thousand digits of pi. "Everyone listen up. I've just emailed all of you the first hundred thousand digits of pi. Into this list I've inserted one incorrect digit. The first person to locate this rogue digit will win"—Mark looked into his desk drawer and picked something up—"this bag of Korean shrimp chips. At the count of three, search. One, two, three—
searchl"

550604009277016711390098488240128583616035637076601047101819429555961989467678374494482553797747268471040475346462080466842590694912933136770289891521047521620569660240580381501935112533824300355876402474964732639141992726042699227967823547816360093417216412199245863150302861829745557067498385054945885869269956909272107975093029553211653449872027559602364806654991198818347977535663698074265425278625518184175746728909777727938000816470600161452491921732172147723501414419735685481613611573525521334757418494684385233239073941433345477624168625189835694855620992192221842725502542568876717904946016534668049886272327917860857843838279679766814541009538837863609506800642251252051173929848960841284886269456042419652850222106611863067442786220391949450471237137869609563643719172874677646575739624138908658326459958133904780275900994657640789512694683983525957098258226205224894077267194782684826014769909026401363944374553050682034962524517493996514314298091906592509372216964615157098583874105978859597729754989301617539284681382686838689427741559918559252459539594310499725246808459872736446958486538367362226260991246080512438843904512441365497627807977156914359977001296160894416948685558484063534220722258284886481584560285060168427394522674676788952521385225499546667278239864565961163548862305774564980355936345681743241125150760694794510965960940252288797108931456691368672287489405601015033086179286809208747609178249385890097149096759852613655497818931297848216829989487226588048575640142704775551323796414515237462343645428584447952658678210511413547357395231134271661021359695362314429524849371871101457654035902799344037420073105785390621983874478084784896833214457138687519435064302184531910484810053706146806749192781911979399520614196634287544406437451237181921799983910159195618146751426912397489409071864942319615679452080951465502252316038819301420937621378559566389377870830390

6979207734672218256259966150142150306803844773454920260541466592520149744285073251866600213243408819071048633173464965145390579626856100550810665879699816357473638405257145910289706414011097120628043903975951567715770042033786993600723055876317635942187312514712053292819182618612586732157919841484882916447060957527069572209175671167229109816909152801735067127485832228718352093539657251210835791513698820914442100675103346711031412671113699086585163983150197016515116851714376576183515565088490998985998238734552833163550764791853589322618548963213293308985706420467525907091548141654985946163718027098199430992448895757128289059232332609729971208443357326548938239119325974636673058360414281388303203824903758985243744170291327656180937734440307074692112019130203303801976211011004492932151608424448596376698389522868478312355265821314495768572624334418930396864262434107732269780280731891544110104468232527162010526522721116603966655730925471105578537634668206531098965269186205647693125705863566201855810072936065987648611791045334885034611365768675324944166803962657978771855608455296541266540853061434443185867697514566140680070023787765913440171274947042056223053899456131407112700040785473326993908145466464588079727082668306343285878569830523580893306575740679545716377525420211495