All About the Zenjamins

by Beck Rowland

  Zenaida wore a black polo shirt emblazoned with the ZenCorp logo. It was a circle with black and white referee stripes, interlocked over a green dollar symbol. It was supposed to represent refereeing the wealthy, but Davey had pointed out that it looked as if the money was behind bars. Zenaida thought that was just as well.

  The rest of the ZenCorp team was already seated. Ortega sat to the left, tapping her pen on a yellow legal pad. Mike sat to the right, sipping a coffee. He had already adopted a ZenCorp polo for himself. Davey was in the next seat over. He’d used one of his vacation days to support Zenaida at the company’s first meeting. Zenaida rapped a spoon against her coffee cup for attention, then stood and cleared her throat.

  “Good Morning everybody. Welcome to the first day of the ZenCorp,” she said. Her voice echoed through the emptiness.

  “Huzzah!” Davey cheered.

  “Let’s take a second to review roles. As founder and CEO, I’m in charge. Davey Erickson already works full-time, so he’ll be chipping in with Tech Support whenever his schedule allows,” Zenaida said. Davey gave a nod and a small wave to the newcomers. “Margaret Ortega, you’re our legal strike team-- that means playing both defense and offense. Mike Gosling oversees Business Operations, which covers everything from ZenCorp’s financial structuring to ordering more coffee and printer paper. We’ll bring on more talent down the road as the need arises. Any questions?”

  “Just one,” Ortega asked. “What’s your plan to tackle Tucksworth? The case is in only nineteen days.”

  “Yeah, I’m ready to dish out some harsh vigilante justice,” Mike grinned.

  Zenaida exchanged a glance with Davey and smiled. She had chosen her team well. The company was still in its early, embryonic stages, but everybody was already rearing to go.

  “First of all, I’ll need Mike to secure a personal meeting. Tucksworth’s usually very keen to meet new start-ups. He scopes them out in case they become acquisition targets later,” Zenaida said.

  Davey chuckled. “You’re going to just march into a billionaire’s office and issue your demands?”

  “Of course not,” Zenaida replied. “We’re going to march in there together. We’ll lay out our case and explain the harm Tucksworth has inflicted upon millions of users. Then we’ll give him the chance to clean up his act, implement privacy reforms, and surrender their claims to the DataVortex program.”

  Ortega made a noise that was halfway between a laugh and a scoff. “You can’t seriously believe that’ll work.”

  “I believe Tucksworth can be persuaded to listen to reason,” Zenaida said. “And if not, I believe we can make him wish that he had.”

  “I still think you’re crazy,” Ortega said.

  “Probably,” Zenaida agreed. She turned to Davey. “There’s one thing I’ll need from you before we meet Tucksworth. How are you with wide-area network analysis?”

  When the morning of the operation arrived, Zenaida and Davey took the Lamborghini to the airport. Traffic was sparse, and Davey wove between cars as if he’d been doing it all his life. The early morning sun cast a soft orange glow over the city.

  “I really wish Lara was here. I could use her advice,” Zenaida said, gazing outside as the city rushed by.

  Davey frowned. “You still haven’t been able to reach her?”

  “I think she changed her number. Her office says she’s taken a few weeks off, and I can’t risk going by the apartment in case I run into Karen again. I hope she’s alright,” Zenaida sighed.

  “She’s probably just busy. What time is our flight?”

  “Oh,” Zenaida said. “I forgot to mention... we’re the only ones on the plane. The pilot will take us up whenever we’re ready.”

  “You booked your own private jet?” Davey asked, incredulous.

  “Gotta keep up with the billionaires somehow,” Zenaida shrugged.

  Davey parked the Lambo on the tarmac and let out a low whistle as he walked around the plane. It was jet black, a sleek wonder of aerodynamics. Zenaida led her friend aboard. As the pilot performed pre-flight checks and prepared for takeoff, they took a quick tour. In addition to several large, comfortable recliners, there was also a minibar, toilets, and a small bed.

  “Oh, and I saw a shower in the back if you need to freshen up,” Zenaida said. “I’m going to plan for the meeting. Jack Tucksworth’s not gonna know what hit him.”

  “I’m ruined, absolutely ruined. I can never go back to Economy,” Davey moaned. He stretched out on the black leather couch and kicked off his shoes.

  Zenaida rehearsed what she was going to say when they landed, then reviewed the materials Ortega had provided. Zenaida knew what she was about to do was risky, but she forced herself to have faith in the plan. It was a good, solid plan. Zenaida was almost certain it would work.

  Three hours later, Zenaida and Davey were seated in the lobby of Peeper Headquarters, nestled in the heart of Silicon Valley. The building was all sleek, corporate design, with selections of graffiti art carefully framed on the walls. A steady stream of interns, programmers and staff passed through the lobby, most barely pausing to glance at Zenaida and Davey. Nearly all of them were her age or younger. The place practically vibrated with energy.

  “Mr. Tucksworth will see you now,” a secretary announced. She opened the door to the main office and gestured Zenaida and Davey inside.

  Tucksworth was shorter and doughier than Zenaida had realized at the restaurant. Although the beard and dark, heavily browed eyes gave an impression of hardened ferocity, she suddenly suspected he had been a chubby kid in school. He bounced up from his desk as they entered, giving Zenaida and Davey an appraising stare as he crossed the office to greet them. Zenaida offered a handshake, then winced as Tucksworth squeezed and pumped vigorously.

  “Zenaida, was it? Call me Jack. You’re from a new start-up called ZenCorp, right? Great to meet you,” he said.

  “Mr. Tucksworth,” Zenaida smiled. “Thank you for accepting this meeting. This is my CIO, Davey Erickson.”

  “Pleasure,” Tucksworth said. Zenaida heard Davey suck in a sharp breath as Tucksworth shook his hand. The painful handshake was some sort of ‘alpha male’ body language trick, she suspected: an attempt at displaying dominance in social interactions. Zenaida thought it just made Tucksworth look like a prick. Tucksworth gestured to a scattering of beanbags, bar stools and chairs surrounding a low slung wooden desk.

  “Take a seat anywhere. We’re pretty relaxed here at Peeper-- except when it comes to kicking ass and taking names,” he said.

  Tucksworth chuckled and Zenaida suspected she was supposed to laugh too. She made a point of keeping her face deadpan as she took a seat on the most ordinary looking chair.

  “So... ZenCorp. What are you guys working on? Mobile games? AR? Social?” Tucksworth asked. He looked from Davey to Zenaida, then back again. For a moment, Zenaida felt a pang of sympathy for the man. He had no idea what they were about to drop on him. Then she remembered the sick, futile feeling she’d felt after learning she’d been a victim of identity theft. She hadn’t learned from Peeper, who only notified customers after it was already in the news, but from her denied student loan application. Tucksworth had issued a statement expressing sincere regret, only to be spotted days later tanning on his yacht with a Victoria’s Secret model on the French Riviera.

  “ZenCorp isn’t an ordinary company. We don’t have shareholders. We don’t obsess over profit margins. Our mission is simply to enforce fair play in the market, and to penalize companies that cross the line,” Zenaida explained.

  Tucksworth gave a vague, confused smile. “Alright… sort of a cross between a political action group and a private corporation. I can dig it. And you need Peeper’s help with…?”

  “User data privacy,” Zenaida said. “Peeper’s inadequate security and callous disregard for your user’s personal data has created devastating financial consequences for millions of people. Identity theft, fraud, bank
ruptcy… the effects linger on for years. We’re here to ask you to do better. To make a real, meaningful change.”

  Tucksworth frowned. “Nobody is more committed to user privacy than I am. We’ve spent nearly a million dollars on cybersecurity improvements after our last breach, and paid nearly $500 million dollars to help affected users.”

  “A $475 million penalty that works out to just over three bucks per person,” Zenaida scoffed. “A man so wealthy as yourself may be unaware, but three bucks doesn’t go particularly far in the grocery store.”

  “Spare me,” Tucksworth rolled his eyes. “My mother was a pediatrician, my father was a university professor. We were a middle class family, and I’m a self made man.”

  Davey interjected. “Mr. Tucksworth, you’ve spoken about Peeper’s commitment to user privacy many times. We’re simply asking you to match those words with deeds.”

  “Meaningful change means more than a press release and corporate platitudes,” Zenaida added. “It means visible, tangible adjustments to the way you do business. First and foremost, we’d like to see Peeper relinquish its false claims over DataVortex. We’d like you to cease all legal actions against Takeshi Nomura, desist your pursuit of DataVortex, and publicly commit Peeper to properly protecting user data in the future.”

  Tucksworth burst out laughing, then scanned the ceiling and corners of the room.

  “Alright, c’mon, who put you guys up to this? Was it Tony? Tony you asshole, are you watching this on hidden camera?” Tucksworth guffawed. A small paunch quivered beneath his hoody as gales of laughter shook him. Zenaida stared, unblinking.

  “Salinas. Trenton. Fairview Heights. Valley River. Mercudio. Hartford,” she said. Zenaida’s voice held a neutral, level tone, but the effect of the words were galvanic. Tucksworth’s laughter died immediately, the mirth dropping from his face in an instant. He froze, shocked, mouth working as he struggled to summon the words.

  “...What did you say?” Tucksworth asked.

  “I’ve analyzed Peeper’s nationwide network traffic and confirmed the secret locations of all six Peeper datacenters. Each datacenter routes user traffic through small, local telecom firms, before the traffic branches out across the country,” Davey explained.

  He gestured to Zenaida, who was texting on her phone. “Right now, Zenaida is acquiring a controlling share in each of those six firms. In a few moments, she’ll own the cables and wires that deliver Peeper traffic to the world.”

  “Done,” Zenaida said. “Tucksworth, you drop your case against Nomura’s program and I’ll relinquish ownership of the telecoms. You fight me, and I’ll instruct those firms to block all network traffic to Peeper, Snapshot, and any other websites you own.”

  As she delivered her warning, Zenaida felt a burst of pride at what ZenCorp had accomplished. The Peeper datacenters had been well hidden: the buildings were operated by shell companies, and the network traffic was routed through a series of proxy servers designed to obscure their direction. Margaret Ortega had uncovered the shell companies and traced each building to Peeper, while Davey had developed an entirely new network monitoring tool solely to trace Peeper’s network traffic back to them. Pulling it all together so quickly had been nothing less than a miracle.

  “What’s it going to be, Mr. Tucksworth? Do we have a deal, or will hundreds of millions of Peeper users suddenly see your homepage replaced with ‘website unavailable’ errors?” Davey asked.

  Rage filled Tucksworth face and he reddened, then leapt up from the beanbag. His fists clenched and unclenched.

  “Are you out of your fucking mind?” he roared. “Who do you think you’re strong-arming? In two weeks, that program will be mine! No start-up wiz-kid wannabe is taking my property. You have no idea the sheer scale of damage I could unleash upon you.”

  Davey took an unconscious step back. Zenaida forced herself to step forward, head held high.

  “Your entire net worth is tied in Peeper and Snapshot stock. All one-point-two-three billion of it,” Zenaida warned. “Give up the DataVortex program, or network traffic to Peeper drops to zero, and then Peeper stock value drops to zero, and then Jack Tucksworth drops to zero.”

  Tucksworth spun around and slammed both fists on his desk. Zenaida and Davey jumped. Roaring curses, Tucksworth hurled a vase, shattering a monitor across the office. Zenaida had the sudden feeling it wasn’t his first time doing it— something about the outburst gave her the impression of an act, a performance designed to intimidate rather than a genuine outburst of emotion.

  “Get out!” Tucksworth screamed. “Get out, or I’ll have security drag you out.”

  As they fled the office, Zenaida heard the shatter of glass and furious, inchoate roars. Peeper staffers looked up from their cubicles in confusion as Zenaida and Davey rushed out of the office. Some looked petrified, and hurriedly looked back at their computer screens. Others appeared entirely unsurprised, as if their boss screaming curses was simply another Thursday. Zenaida and Davey sped through the lobby and moments later, were laughing maniacally as they burst onto the street.

  “Holy hell, he was pissed,” Davey exclaimed. “Do you think he’ll let DataVortex go?”

  “Oh yeah! The entire Peeper empire is worthless if nobody can get to their website— controlling those telecom firms is as good as controlling Tucksworth himself. Ortega will observe the proceedings and make sure Tucksworth’s claims are withdrawn in court,” Zenaida said.

  As she rode back to the airport, Zenaida reflected on Angelique’s warnings about Tucksworth. Despite his immense wealth, Zenaida had made short work of him. He had been caught off guard, and had probably thought himself invincible. Presumably all the ultra-rich felt that way. Zenaida looked forward to proving them wrong.

  VI.

  Cash Rules

  After several days at the courthouse, Ortega returned to the ZenCorp office with uncertain news. Tucksworth hadn’t fully withdrawn Peeper’s attempts to acquire DataVortex, but they hadn’t made any new moves either. After several preliminary hearings passed without any representation from Peeper, Ortega interpreted it as a likely victory. Zenaida threw an office party to celebrate. She hung up streamers and balloons with the ZenCorp logo, then ordered catered brunch from a few restaurants nearby.

  Davey alternated between wolfing down food and retelling the story of the Tucksworth meeting. Ortega and Mike listened with equal parts horror and amazement. When he finished, both looked at Zenaida with a newfound respect. They hadn’t expected her to move so aggressively, let alone to triumph over one of Silicon Valley’s most prominent leaders.

  “I just can’t believe they’re letting these prelim hearings slide by without representation,” Ortega exclaimed. “This all seems easier than what Tucksworth’s reputation led me to expect.”

  “Like you said, they must be throwing in the towel. Zeny outsmarted Peeper, plain and simple. Turns out money can’t buy brains!” Davey laughed as he raised a glass. Zenaida had a feeling her friend was a little tipsy.

  “My assessment was that they could be throwing in the towel. They could also be recalibrating, buying time for another strategy,” Ortega mused.

  “What other strategy could there be? An Internet company blocked by local telecoms is like a drive-through with all the surrounding roads blocked off. There’s no way around,” Zenaida said.

  “Uh… Zeny…,” Mike said. He gestured at the television, then grabbed a remote to unmute it. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

  Jack Tucksworth was doing a live interview on CNN. He glared into the camera, his dark eyes seeming to pierce Zenaida where she stood. Mike turned up the volume.

  “...And so in a funny way, we have to thank the smaller companies who try to challenge Peeper. They keep us on our toes. In this case, by accelerating the deployment of our Solar Net Drones Initiative. Each of these drones will wirelessly broadcast Peeper services to our millions of users in major US cities,” Tucksworth said.

&n
bsp; The camera shot to an enormous blimp-like craft, its upper surface coated with thin layers of solar paneling. It floated above the clouds, the Peeper logo peeking ominously through the mist. An infographic informed viewers that the drones could remain airborne for years at a time.

  “Damnit!” Zenaida cursed.

  The drone fleet would bypass the ground-based telecom networks entirely. She had spent so much time, money and energy acquiring control over those companies, only for Tucksworth to render them entirely irrelevant to Peeper’s operations. The economic forces required to take the drones from an early prototype to a fully deployed fleet within a matter of days boggled the mind.

  “We should have expected this. Tucksworth is a billionaire, Zenaida,” Ortega said. “He has resources equivalent to a small nation-state. You couldn’t have expected him to just roll over.”

  The anchor said something that Zenaida missed, then the camera returned to Tucksworth. “Well in fact, several local governments have awarded Peeper tax credits for launching our drones in their cities, boosting Peeper profits by 1.24%,” Tucksworth announced.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Mike groaned.

  “I’d also like to announce that one week from now, Peeper expects the Southern District Court to finally grant it full possession of the DataVortex program. As many viewers are already aware, the program is stored on a USB thumb drive in the custody of the court. Once it’s safely in Peeper’s hands, we’ll be using it to introduce a lot of exciting new features,” Tucksworth promised.

  Zenaida snatched the remote from Mike’s hand and switched off the television. She collapsed in a chair with a heavy sigh. Once Tucksworth delivered the DataVortex program to Peeper Headquarters, he would become richer and more powerful than ever before. With access to more user data than any organization in human history and a lackadaisical attitude towards data privacy, Zenaida predicted an exponential increase in the number of data leaks, hacks and identity theft. She knew first-hand just how devastating it would be for the future victims.