From: KayBuena <KayBuena@KayBuena.com>
Yesterday was a fine day in Texas when Charles, Franlee and I arrived. Silence filled the big space alive with biology and everyone's sick memories. The emptiness threatened to overpower what had the potential to be one hell of a good plan: Mainly; that of a symbolic battle of person against cyberbeing, human beans against the machine, frustration against futility, crapatola against corporate structure... Only Deux in the maxchina could intervene this time, and he was busy... so we were left to our own devices.
What single person, or army can win in the battle against time? Only the fable of John Henry and the massive steel driven monster could compare with such a war against ideas, and few people would show such strength of wit and might, stupidity and stickiness, moral buttwinkery and the sheer imagination to desire a fight with the anals of progress...
And then we were joined by three more brave souls.
Now, in my time on this earth, I have shared a moment or two with great and gross people from some of the most important scientific and artistic (?) minds as well as some who were scum of a mangy dog needing to be put out of his or her misery, but never with these such completely doomed vipers, our enemies, these who represented 50 years of human frustration.
We carefully set them up (outstanding in their field) while the warm breezes blew, the fire ants feasted on our legs and the clock stopped. There we were, at last. Brave individuals: my dear husband, Charles, pud of compcrap, veteran of 15 years of IBM, various tragic algorithmic strokes, a rather tragic political conversion, to say nothing of his 25 years of personal association with myself; Franlee, the magnificent Texas cowgirl, spiritually barefoot, sleep deprived, having the hounds of Hollywood yapping at her heels; Jdub and his wife, Karen, armed with only a couple of cameras, an arsenal of decent firearms, and the overwhelming desire to gain control of their lives by popping off a comp-trophy ( one way or the other.)
We all wanted the same thing; all or nothing, a show down in the sun. We were entering where angels fear the water moccasin and where black and white had an easy mix of grey and a wide spectrum of meaning... Oh yeah, and of course me, of whom you know way too much about already.
There was a dog barking off into the distance (actually I think that was me coughing and convulsing), what seemed like a horse neighing in the background (Franlee snorting and wheezing a stifled laugh). We had the four horsemen of the computer crimelords (bastards and festering foul mouthed wretches that they were) awaiting their fate and assuming to pose...
The jury had found them guilty as Homemade Sin, ugly, nasty, and smart-assed, needing to be shot with out further discussion. Which we did. And In an orderly and fashionable manner, and with a great deal of dignity, I might add. Only Dr. Sauer in a navy blue business suit broke the pace of what was left of a workstation with a big old sledge hammer, while the rest of us chanted "Lining Track", as existentially, mean and purposeful as Leadbelly when he was in Huntsville. The rest of the vermin were neatly and cleanly shot.
We all left with personal trophies. I hope some of the better
moments are on film. Wish you had been there, but business was taken care of in more ways
than one. Take a deep breath and smell the victory all around us. All is well.
...Later, as ever, Ms. Buena