Genesis
By
L.C.F.
Part I
Jordan
Omni opened the door to his office and switched on the light.
The fluorescents hummed for a second and then kicked on, illuminating his
sparsely decorated workspace. He
sat at his desk and stared at his monitor for several minutes.
It had that screen saver that makes it seem as though you’re hurtling
through space, nothing but blackness with stars streaking towards you.
That screen saver always made me a little dizzy so I would never have
used it. But it was just the sort
of trite, predictable, and unoriginal thing that suited Jordan so well.
He was motionless, going over what he was going to do, setting it firmly
in his mind so that for the next six days he could just let the code flow out of
him and into his computer. The
thrill of creation pulsed through him and his fingers began to fly across the
keyboard and code appeared on the screen in front of him.
A slight smile appeared as he thought about what this program was going
to do for his already successful company.
It was far from an original idea. Many
people had already attempted to create programs that imitated real life, a
make-believe personal computer version of MTV’s Real World.
The geeks and voyeurs that wanted something else to tune into besides the
mundanity of their own pathetic lives had hailed every attempt thus far as
nothing less than ingenious. I have
to admit that some of the programs had merit but they were all limited by a lack
of vision.
Jordan thought that his program would be revolutionary. He had invented a way to create characters that through a complex formula would in turn create new characters without the need for software updates. I guess it was novel, but I was sure that Jordan was going to botch it somehow. I decided that for the next few days I would do nothing but watch and figure out how to turn this into a truly great piece of artistic software. Jordan would, like the others, impose upon it rules and restrictions to prevent it from delving into the true sordidness of life that was at heart what the masses desired. They wanted sex, drugs, violence, and backstabbing; that is why soap operas are popular. If close-minded fools like Jordan had their say, the only channel would be TV Land playing nothing but Leave It To Fucking Beaver. Well, I was resolved to change all that shit. I would ensure that this product was actually entertaining even if I had to be a little underhanded about it. When Jordan saw the sales, he would forgive and forget any changes that I had made to his precious little program.
But it wasn’t time for that yet. Now
it was time for me to wait, relax, and see what the old man came up with.
Actually, now it was time to head for home and on the way I might make a
brief stop for a drink or two. I
punched my three-digit code into the security alarm to arm it, and locked the
door to my office. A minute later I
was speeding my way down Castro Street in downtown San Francisco in my brand new
gleaming white Dodge Durango. I
liked taking that route because it had the best dance clubs and compared to the
rest of the city it wasn’t too hilly. That
night I decided to stop into The Spin Club. It always had the best music, early
90’s dance hits mostly. I pulled
up to the curb, climbed out and threw my keys to the valet and passed him a ten.
Up the steps and down a hall and then there I was next to Sean, the big
bouncer, who nodded and smiled when he saw me.
“Always a pleasure to see you, Mr. Ferrier.”
“For the fiftieth time, Sean,
call me Lucas. Mr. Ferrier is my
father’s name.” I figured I
could get away with using that phrase for another ten years because of my
youthful looking face. He guided me
around the long line and into the club itself.
He palmed the ten-spot that was in my hand when we parted with a
handshake. “Now That We Found Love” by Heavy D was filling the dance
floor with people and I smiled. It
was one of my favorites. The bar
was crowded but I squeezed in between two occupied stools.
“Corey, baby, you know what I want,” I shouted over the din.
Corey turned and smiled when he
saw who it was. Corey was tall and
at least half Hispanic. He had the
haircut that was about an inch long all over so that it was neat but stood up
slightly in the front. Since I’ve
known him his shirts have been getting progressively tighter and that night was
no exception. The shirt was white
cotton that was so thin you could clearly make out his pierced nipples through
it. He mixed my drink and placed
the white Russian in front of me. I
reached out and tucked a twenty into his shirt pocket.
“Keep them coming, Corey-baby. I’ll
settle at the end of the night.” He
gave me a wink and turned his attention to some woman that was clearly drunk and
tugging rudely at his sleeve.
I made my way to my table and pushed the silverware, napkins and reserved
sign to the far edge of the table. My
back was to the wall, so I could survey the entire club.
It was seventy-five percent men because, after all, it was the Castro
district. The rest were the
club-going elite who knew that the scene here was much better than the rest of
the city’s or they were the women who found the gay clubs to be less
threatening compared to the constant predation they experienced at most straight
clubs. I couldn’t blame them.
A few minutes later I was joined by Gabriel, the vice president in charge
of public relations at Omni-tech. He
had been shocked the first time that he saw me here. He had immediately asked me if I was gay too.
I had told him no, I just liked the scene.
He had shrugged and said that that was good; it was less competition for
him. Gabriel now joined me on a semi-regular basis, but never for
long, only until he spotted his next victim.
We had a tacit agreement not to discuss the club at work because Jordan
would flip out like the fucking dogmatic asshole he was if he even thought that
either one of his favorite V.P.’s were gay.
Gabriel
swigged his Heineken and made idle chitchat as his eyes scanned the floor for a
guy who had good enough dance moves to warrant his attention.
He had obviously found one because he slammed down his bottle and was
gone in a flash. He was soon
replaced by Mary, one of the afore-mentioned club aficionados. She had been trying to seduce me ever since she noticed that
I wasn’t interested. She was too
much of a player for my tastes. I
was on my fifth drink and starting to buzz so I figured that I should make her
leave before her hand on my thigh and the coconut smell of her hair started to
get to me. I told her politely that
she should get going and, with a sly smile that said that she knew she had
gotten to me, she was gone.
My sixth and seventh white Russians I sipped more slowly and my head started to clear. A young woman in a long blue skirt, white blouse and sandals walked by and then stopped, her head turning from side to side as if looking for a friend in the throngs of dancers. She was small, her features so delicate that they looked like they had been crafted out of fine porcelain by a master craftsman. Her hair was dark, black actually and it was short but arranged well, beautifully done. Her skin was faintly olive colored. She was definitely Italian or maybe Sicilian. She was obviously an innocent to the club world since her sandals would be impossible to dance in. She had probably been dragged by a friend that wanted to show her a good time and then forgot her as the night wore on. She noticed my steady gaze and quickly looked down at the floor. When she looked up again, my fingers gently stroked an eyebrow, forcing her to notice my sky-blue eyes. I smiled warmly, and beckoned to her silently. She took a step hesitantly in my direction and then paused as she looked around, equivocating about whether to come over. She made up her mind and sat down with false confidence. Her name was Eva and she was a fabulous girl with a quick mind. She was shy, which was refreshing. She seemed shocked that when I walked her to her car at closing time after hours of conversation, all I asked for was her phone number.
The
next morning I felt like shit, so I called the office and told them I would be
working at home. That is to say I
would be watching cartoons in my underwear.
I did the same the next day except I managed to put on clothes and meet
Eva for a lunch date. I definitely
liked her.
The rest of the week flew by as only the truly lazy could appreciate. I did actually get some work done as I tried to figure out a way to change Jordan’s program without him just changing it back. And then it came to me. It would have to take the form of a virus, and I would have to implement it just before the program was released.
Part
II
It was three months later and Eva and I were curled up on the couch, watching “Buffy” and “Angel”. The phone rang. I reluctantly took my arm away from massaging her shoulders. She glared at me in mock anger. I picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“Ferrier, Mike Grey here.” He was the V.P. in charge of personnel. I wondered why he was calling. I don’t think he had ever called me before. I hated the way he called me by my last name. It was so military. “Big Guy wants us in his office at eight sharp. No excuses. And Ferrier, he sounded mad.” Click. I smiled to myself. The fit was about to hit the proverbial shan as one of my favorite authors once said.
I walked into Jordan Omni’s office at about ten past eight and all the other V.P.’s were already there. Dom and Mike looked annoyed at my tardiness. Eli seemed amused. Gabriel looked slightly nervous. He didn’t have to worry, there was no way I was going to rat him out. I was just glad he had helped me.
Jordan sat behind his big oaken desk in his big black leather chair and he was fuming mad. I almost expected to see smoke coming out of his ears but maybe that was just because I watched too many cartoons. He looked even angrier than when he found out I was dating Eva, his daughter.
Jordan leaned back in his chair and began the speech that he had probably been rehearsing all morning, knowing that no one would interrupt him. “Gentlemen, as you are all aware our “Perfect World” game comes on the market tomorrow. In fact it has already been shipped. What you might not be aware of is that the game contains a virus that alters its fundamental nature. Instead of a game that is a paradise for people to enjoy, it is now smut, full of fornication and bloodshed. Gentlemen, this is not a company that releases that sort of tasteless product. It is too late now to recall the product. But rest assured that actions shall be taken to insure that this sort of thing never happens again. Good day.” With that he gave me a meaningful look.
Before anyone could file out the door I spoke up. “I changed the product, but that’s my job to revise and edit code in order to produce a more saleable program. It was boring before. Nothing ever seemed to fucking happen. It was just Mr. and Mrs. Cleaver running around a garden eating fruit and going to the God damned petting zoo. There was no drama, no action, no sweat and tears or love and pain. There was nothing human about it. So I threw in some sex and violence. That’s what people want. They’re the two most primal things in human interaction. Sure, people might buy into that happy in the sky crap for a while but you know what happens to TV shows like that? They get canceled. So instead of making a big sale for ten weeks we’re going to make money for the next ten years because of my changes. I’m not ashamed. I even put my tag right on it. My initials, L.C.F., are right in there. The game will always start with a woman seducing her husband away from a nice little house and then a little fratricide after that. And then it will be different every time after that. It’s entertainment. Now what’s so wrong with wanting to make a little money while providing the public with something that they want while being art at the same time? What’s so wrong with that?”
Part III
So I got fired. Jordan didn’t even have the balls to do it himself. He had Michael cast me out. At least Gabriel would now be senior V.P. now that I was gone. Maybe he could introduce some fire into the company. I was going to be just fine. I was starting my own company and I had a feeling that I would do well with it. Some programmers came with me when I was fired, so at least I have a little support.
But the big question that has been gnawing on my mind is this: was I wrong to have made the changes? I was right that the game would be very popular with my changes. Omnitech’s stocks soared because of it. When Jordan released his version of “The Perfect World” it flopped big time. I guess the public would side with me if they heard the story, but that doesn’t really help my conscience much.
Should I have accommodated Jordan’s plan? Or was it okay for me to disagree with him? Just because I made the game a little more interesting doesn’t make it smut. I guess my real question to you is: I’m not a bad person, am I? Am I?