Menu

Episode 01x05 - Die, Teamwork, Die!

Icepunk:

The receptionist, Perky, leads me up to some guy’s office. Am I being fired already? Oh well, at least I get to share an elevator with Perky.

I notice her glancing at me every once in a while. She opens her mouth, but immediately closes it. Finally, she can’t contain herself any longer. At last, she is about to profess her love for me!

“Sir,” she says, “your fly is down.”

I look down. “Oh, my bad,” I respond as I make minute adjustments to my attire.

Except for the hum of the elevator, there is silence. Awkward.

I clear my throat and attempt to regain my dignity. “So, I suppose you work here?”

“That’s correct,” she answers abruptly.

Another silence.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a sister, would you?” I ask hopefully.

She looks at me oddly, but does not answer.

The elevator stops - saved by the bell!

Malex:

I left the orientation meeting somewhat dazed. I doubted Poo’s ability to lead any kind of team, let alone a software development one. Actually, as I began to consider the members of our ‘team’, I couldn’t imagine any of them sporting any skills at all.

Were we headed for success, or were we headed for miserable, flaming, horrific failure? I would find out in an hour, at our first “team meeting”.

Icepunk:

We exit the elevator and step into a luxurious office, which has a marvelous view of the city skyline. Two men approach us - one wearing a business suit, the other a shirt and tie typical of the corporate underling.

Perky introduces me, gives me another bizarre look, and exits as rapidly as possible.

Business suit boy begins, “The esteemed Mr. Punk! I am Gill Bates, the owner of MicroSlop. Nice to make your acquaintance.”

We shake hands, and he gestures at the underling. “This is Jennings, your new assistant. He’s had some experience in the hitman business.”

I shake hands with Jennings, a suave gentleman with a five o’clock shadow, who looks remarkably like some kind of British secret agent.

“Jennings will brief you on your assignments. Now get out of here. I’m very busy today.”

Jennings and I ride the elevator down from Bates’ office - apparently headed toward my first assignment.

“So what exactly am I supposed to do?” I ask. “Some sort of espionage, perhaps?”

“No old chap,” Jennings says condescendingly. “That’s far too subtle for the likes of you.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind.”

Malex:

I was supposed to meet the team in another of the numerous conference rooms that this building sported, but I was late, as I had spent a large amount of time jotting down technical notes about the process of writing a computer operating system - a process with which I was intimately familiar.

I entered the conference room with my stack of notes and was immediately assaulted by an extremely high volume of tobacco smoke. I staggered to a table and sat down, trying desperately to maintain an air of professionalism around myself.

As I looked around, I realized with horror that my team was not engaged in a business meeting, but was instead engaged in a high-stakes card game.

“Ah, are we going to begin the meeting soon?” I inquired hopefully. Boof, Poo, and the rest of the ‘team’ laughed, brushed off my question, and invited me to join them.

“No thanks,” I responded with a grimace. “I don’t gamble.” I left in disgust, and resolved to complete the project whether they were willing to help or not.

Later that day:

I was in a bizarre state of mind: The state of mind that only a coder can understand - where the world around you fades, and the ordered, perfect logic of the computer becomes your reality. (As I said, it is a bizarre state of mind.)

Suddenly my haze of productivity was interrupted. I heard a woefully familiar voice outside my cubicle, accompanied by the squealing of little wheels on industrial carpet. “Faster Jennings, faster!” Icepunk was yelling. I stood up and watched as he flew around a corner and out of sight. I wondered what the devil he was being paid to do, but, being unwilling to halt my progress, I decided to ignore Icepunk’s shenanigans and continue coding.

Icepunk:

I lose interest after a couple of trips around the 50th floor in my office chair and inquire, “Jennings, when do I get to shoot stuff?”

Fit as he is, Jennings is slightly out of breath from pushing me around in my chair, so it takes him a moment to catch his breath and answer. The wuss.

“Since you ask,” he wheezes, “we’ll temporarily suspend your training and begin the next part of your assignment.”

A few minutes later:

“Jennings, hand me my MP5.”

I take aim and blast another of the subversive demon pigeons out of the sky.

“I say, excellent shot sir!” Jennings praises my efforts.

“Thanks. Alright, give me that gun. No, the big one. Yeah!”

I chamber a round and fire a burst into the air. “Ooh, sweet! I’ve never fired an AK-47 in real life before!”

“Ah yes, a gift from our Russian suppliers.”

I spew an extensive string of expletives as a bullet ricochets off the concrete near my foot. Jennings ignores my vulgarity as we dive for cover.

“Jennings,” I ask, “you wouldn’t happen to have a rocket launcher among that arsenal, would you?”

“Sadly no,” he responds. “I’m afraid it is currently in the trunk of my ridiculously expensive sports car.”

“Who do you think is shooting at us?” I ask.

“It appears to be a wild-eyed old man with an illegal weapon,” Jennings states as he peers through a pocket spy-glass. “We’d better get inside.”

“Good,” said I, losing interest, “because it’s late, I’m tired, and I’m going home.”

Malex:

The end of the day was fast approaching, and I had a working prototype. This operating system was so fast, so stable, and so flexible, I wouldn’t have been surprised if it could host software as complicated as an artificial intelligence! I laughed at the possibility, finished building all of the core utilities for my nice new operating system, and left for the day.