After On

by Rob Reid

  During the short jaunt from the upstairs bar to the smaller of the downstairs dining rooms, the two of them are offered enough free drinks to enstupor a rugby team. Upon taking their seats, they learn that Judy’s late (she always is, Jepson confides). When she finally arrives, she’s all business. “Fabulous meeting with the commissioner,” she begins.

  “How’d Mitchell do?”

  “Great. Sat there like a deaf mute! I couldn’t’ve asked for more.”

  Jepson pats him proudly on the shoulder. “So what’s she got planned for us?”

  Perusing the menu, Judy replies absently. “Injunction. Lawsuit. Possible criminal charges.”

  “Perfect! And did you piss her off?”

  “Totally. Her face turned green. Her neck did a 360. Then, instead of calling Uber, she took off on a motherfuckin’ broom.” She and Jepson fist-bump.

  Jepson turns to Mitchell to explain. “We’ve done a full psychological profile on the commissioner. Bottom line, she makes boo-boos when she’s mad.”

  Judy nods. “Huge ones!” She flashes a sly grin. “That shit she did to her freshman roommate?” She and Jepson chuckle darkly, and Mitchell wonders what constitutes a “psychological profile” in Phluttr’s high command.

  Patrick the friendly wine steward arrives to fill their glasses with an exquisite Bordeaux blend, then a waitress takes their orders. Once they’re alone, Judy says, “So, is she EULA’d?”

  “Ohhh yeah,” Jepson gloats. They toast so violently, they almost cover themselves in Riedel shards.

  “EULA’d?” Mitchell asks. The acronym for End User Licensing Agreement is becoming a common English word, but this is an odd usage.

  Judy looks at Jepson. “How confidential can we be with this kid?”

  “We’re getting there,” Jepson says. “Legal worked triple overtime to close the Giftish.ly acquisition in record time. Then he signed a raft of NDAs.”

  “Security clearance?” Judy asks.

  Jepson shakes his head. “Not yet, but they’re working on it. And it’s already clear that he’s squeaky clean.” The high clearances that are common in industries like aerospace are unheard of in social media—except at Phluttr. The company’s Outsourced Business Services unit hosts a small discussion board for West Point grads, providing cover for the oddly large number of employees who are highly cleared. Working directly for Jepson, Mitchell figured he’d join their ranks at some point. It now seems he was right about this.

  “What to say,” Judy says, suddenly gazing deeply at him. “And what not to say…” She appears to make a decision. Then, “Mitchell, what kind of company is Phluttr?”

  “What…kind of company?”

  “Yes. What Techmeme-friendly pigeonhole would you put your employer in?”

  This seems like a trick question from a McKinsey interview. And so, donning his consultant cap, Mitchell goes meta and refuses to answer. “It depends upon whose perspective we’re taking.”

  “Well played, youngster,” Judy says. “How about from the perspective of your own active users?”

  “To them, we’re a social networking company.”

  “Of course. And from an advertiser’s standpoint?”

  “I’d say that to them, we’re a media company.”

  “Bravo. Now. How do product managers within the business view things?”

  Mitchell considers this. “A lot of folks on the inside think of Phluttr as a Big Data company.”

  “Bull’s-eye,” Judy says. “Now finally, what would you say Phluttr is in the eyes of…certain stakeholders. I think you know who I’m talking about. Jepson and I may have mentioned one or two of them. In an entirely…theoretical way. On the day I met you.”

  She’s clearly talking about those faux-joking references to the NSA when they were in the privacy of Jepson’s office, a couple weeks back. Mitchell nods. “Them?” he says. “I don’t really know.”

  “Well, to them, I can tell you, that Phluttr is…” She pauses, and Mitchell all but hears a drumroll. Then, “A EULA company.”

  “A EULA company?”

  Judy nods. “Didn’t go to law school, did you, Mitchell?” He shakes his head. “Good for you. And I mean that sincerely. But if you had, you’d know a bit more than you probably do about this irksome little…speed bump called the Fourth Amendment.”

  “Something about ‘search and seizure,’ ” Jepson adds, finger-quoting.

  “Think of the Fourth Amendment as being a private place where the founding mommies and daddies went, and then nine months later, we had warrants and probable cause.” Judy pauses to make sure Mitchell’s following this odd constitutional law lesson. He nods to assure her he is. “Speaking of fucking,” she continues, watching closely for an awkward flinch (which he duly provides), “another concept tied to the Fourth Amendment is consent. This is what a hundred thousand half-wits a day give when they hand their cellphone to a cop who asks for it, open their trunk during a traffic stop, or let the police into their house without insisting on a warrant. Certainly a majority, and perhaps as many as 90 percent of all searches, are ‘consent searches.’ Which is to say, the cops would need a warrant if the searchee insisted. But people don’t realize they have a right to say no.”

  “Or,” Jepson adds, “that warrants are enough of a pain to get that the cops usually won’t bother if you press the issue.”

  “So are EULAs a form of consent?” Mitchell asks.

  “Bingo,” Jepson says, and Judy almost beams at him. Almost.

  “Even if nobody actually reads them?”

  “Especially if nobody actually reads them,” Judy says. “And the fact is, people can’t really read them. Literally! A few years back, a study showed it would take the average person a month and a half just to read every privacy agreement they assent to in an average year. And EULAs are a lot longer than privacy agreements.”

  “What do you call it, Judy?” Jepson asks. “The…privatization of the law?”

  Judy nods. “The idea is that if someone signs the right documents—or the wrong ones, depending on your perspective, I guess—they can become almost as subjugated vis-à-vis their counterparty as individuals are in relation to the state. Pret-ty cool, huh? Anyway. I think we’ve said enough about this general concept for now. The bottom line is that Phluttr has promised certain dark mandarins in Washington that it’ll get as many humans as possible to consent to its EULA. Ideally, all humans. And for tonight’s specific purposes, the key fact is that we have Commissioner Milford’s consent.”

  “To do…?”

  “Pretty much anything,” Jepson says.

  “Pretty much everything,” Judy clarifies. “But for a while there, I was worried.” She turns to Jepson. “I couldn’t find any trace of her on Phluttr, and my team checked pretty thoroughly.”

  “She’s clever about it,” Jepson explains. “She signed up under an assumed name, always uses dynamic IP, and even TOR sometimes when she checks her account. But this afternoon, Beasley 100 percent confirmed that she accepted the EULA. It’s ironclad. She couldn’t hope to deny it in court. And all of its provisions apply to her.”

  “And what do we have on her?” Judy’s eyes are asparkle.

  “Lots, I’m sure. I haven’t gotten her Phile yet, but I’ll bet there’s plenty she’d rather not see on the front page of the New York Times.”

  Mitchell squirms awkwardly at this, and Judy shoots him the glare of a gruff librarian catching a third grader sparkin’ up a doobie. “Just to be clear, Mr. Prentice. We would never publish any awkward facts about the commissioner without her express written permission.” She lets Mitchell relax slightly, then adds, “Which, to be clear, the EULA grants us.” At that, Jepson rises. “Oh God,” Judy says sotto voce. Hiding her eyes in her hands in mock despair, she whispers, “You idiot pyromaniac.”

  Mitchell turns and sees dozens of heads pivoting throughout the dining room, like iron globes yanked by a paralyzing magnetic field that’s approaching their table like a
radiant comet. Like a blond, radiant comet. Like a blond, radiant blond comet who may not be old enough to order a drink. One done up in a canny mix of Prada and Hot Topic that just works, and works brilliantly, on this electromagnetic, stiletto-stepping celestial being who’s now hugging Jepson hello. Judy catches Mitchell’s gaze and mouths the words playing with fire so clearly it’s like she’s shouting into his ears. And that’s when he recognizes her. Comet Girl is the woman whose image Raj used to represent the hypothetical college babe who starts turning tricks on Phluttr’s new dating-and-casual-prostitution site. Jepson almost belted Raj for putting her in his PowerPoint! And now that he’s witnessing her effect on Jepson, Mitchell gains new respect for Raj’s contemptibly brilliant rhetorical skills.

  “Mitchell? Judy?” Jepson says. “I’d like to introduce you to one of our new interns. This is Serena Kielholz, from Stanford.”

  All rise. “Kielholz,” Judy says, shaking Serena’s hand briskly. “I believe I know your father.” She turns to Jepson. “Gosh, come to think of it, so does your new boss!”

  QUANTUM DECODE DOCUMENT: #00001 OF 00003

  FULL TEXT OF DECRYPTED DOCUMENT BELOW.

  TONY JEPSON: SUITABILITY AND VULNERABILITIES

  ***TOP SECRET/SCI/COMINT/NOFORN

  * * *

  * * *

  Overview: The Neo Gatsby Initiative seeks to recruit a highly credentialed Silicon Valley entrepreneur to the Authority’s mission. This is a mounting national security priority as a growing majority of the nation’s best technical talent concentrates in Internet, Mobile, VR/AR, Machine Learning, and related fields. Roughly ten corporations dominate these areas, most with little government allegiance. This greatly compromises our ability to drive the development of critical technologies and systems.

  Detailed Background: For decades, prestige and competitive paychecks enabled defense contractors, NASA, and government labs to recruit ample engineering talent. This ability eroded with the tech boom of the nineties, and all but vanished with the current boom. Today, infant startups are routinely acquired for billions, patriotism is unfashionable, and career choices in our hedge fund–, celebrity-, and startup-dominated economy are shaped primarily by greed. With top-percentile engineering talent all but inaccessible to government affiliates, it could be time to “disguise” part of the national security apparatus as a hot startup. Recruited engineers could be applied to Authority priorities, and should the company exert sufficient industry “gravity,” security priorities could start driving more of the broader technology agenda. In a high-upside scenario, the company’s equity value might also meaningfully dent the national debt.

  This program should reside under the Authority’s direct auspices. All but unknown to the press and public, the Authority enjoys expansive budgets as well as cadres of remarkably talented personnel. Sitting above most Secret and Top Secret organizations in the chain of command, it can marshal human and technical resources from many governmental arms. All this, plus certain elements of legal immunity, ideally configure the Authority to maintain a clandestine Silicon Valley presence.

  Neo Gatsby’s goal of recruiting a top tech CEO is formidable in light of decades of failed efforts with CEOs from other industries. With vast resources and highly constrained schedules, CEOs are largely impervious to financial inducements and unavailable for extensive training, vetting, or indoctrination. Being accustomed to high levels of autonomy and responsibility, they’re also rarely pliant. However, the tech industry is unusual in that its roster of dominant companies is in constant flux. Many of the coming decade’s giants surely have yet to be founded. This presents the unique possibility of “growing” our desired CEO. We would start with a credentialed entrepreneur who currently lacks a platform. Someone with a proven ability to raise capital, recruit teams, and launch products within Silicon Valley’s ecosystem but who lacks and craves wealth and acclaim. With Authority-provided capital, proprietary technology, competitive intelligence, and (perhaps) “dirty tricks,” the right executive might rapidly build a juggernaut.

  Neo Gatsby’s recruiting efforts have gone slowly. Top prospects have washed out for reasons including foreign nationality, excessive drug history, hostility toward intelligence objectives, personality disorders, videogame addiction, sex addiction, failed security clearances, failed psychological clearances, and recruiting competition by established companies and venture capital (“VC”) firms offering outlandish compensation packages.

  Tony Jepson: After efforts to enlist candidates ranked “Optimal” failed, recruiting standards were retargeted to “Outstanding,” then “Superior,” then “Acceptable.” Criteria have now transitioned to “Wild Card,” enabling our first hiring recommendation. Tony Jepson’s biography and extensive press clippings are attached. His candidacy’s major “pro” and “con” factors follow:

  Negatives: Jepson exhibits clear signs of sex addiction, a disqualifying factor under prior recruiting standards. However, certain demerits are acceptable in Wild Card candidates with unusual mitigating strengths (see below). More concerning, Jepson’s history as a “patent troll” is reviled in the industry, as are rumored Republican Party sympathies. Last, his prior company (ePetStore.com) failed, and we seek to build a successful giant.

  Positives: Jepson became wealthy despite his startup’s failure, and his objective was not to build a successful company but to enrich himself. Viewed through this lens, he is a success, not a failure—and we have ways of aligning his future incentives that civilian investors lack. His strengths include top-percentile charisma, which fuels preternatural media-drawing and recruiting capabilities.

  Analysts also speculate that industry disdain for Jepson is shallow. His roguish image secretly appeals to many, and the decade of lavish parties and events he hosted before suddenly losing his wealth drew local elites in droves. Authority psychologists also note an industry affinity for “comeback stories” that verges on spiritual. Steve Jobs’s resurrection of Apple, Elon Musk’s many triumphs after near bankruptcy, and Tim Tebow’s improbable rise as a virtual reality tycoon are but three examples. Should Jepson seek “redemption,” many will applaud. Then, with the first signs of success, his bandwagon will overflow.

  Perhaps most important, Jepson’s lasting loyalty can be assured by the overwhelming threat he perceives to his life. Aggrieved counterparties in his bitcoin debacle include two mock-criminal gangs. One is a Russian intelligence front, the other is one of ours. Both have put on convincing displays of criminal outrage (which is not entirely feigned, as both groups must shed a certain amount of blood to maintain verisimilitude). Jepson is therefore convinced that he needs our ongoing protection. And he is correct, insofar as both groups have agreed to drop their grievances against him in exchange for some low-level horse trading that we’ve already concluded.

  For these reasons, as well as our ongoing failure to enlist a truly desirable candidate, the Recruiting Committee recommends Tony Jepson’s immediate on-boarding.

  The PhastPhorwardr is never perfectly quiet. No one whose career passion is Perovskite cells or graphene transistors is a nine-to-fiver, after all. That said, the monomaniacal energy that powered these small teams in their startup days dissipates post-acquihire, as folks rediscover gym memberships, significant others, and Call of Duty habits. Taking all this into account, Tarek figures the human density should be ideally sparse by about ten. So he, Danna, and Kuba return at that hour.

  The quantum computing area is quite deserted. This was expected, as when Ax is out of town, his team tends to work remotely. Kuba would have preferred to do their break-in remotely, too. But Tarek knows the access rituals of the system’s physical nexus, and Kuba pilfered login details at this afternoon’s quantum symposium, which should get them in anonymously. And so, Kuba logs in, with Danna at his shoulder. This will give him another technical brain to bounce ideas off, should they hit an impasse; while Tarek stays out on the main floor to distract any passersby.

  Once in the system, they w
ork quickly. Kuba has cryptographic experience from Google and school, and Ax gave the system a very Linux-like interface, which makes it navigable. It’s soon clear that rumors about the quantum node’s being operational, and having mind-bending horsepower, are true. Standard benchmark ciphers that take days to crack on high-end servers are demolished in mere milliseconds!

  Or is it…microseconds? Holy shit, it is. It IS microseconds! Their first impression of the system’s speed shocked, awed, and spooked them. But it’s actually running a thousand times faster than they thought! And also—

  No.

  No, no, NO!!! it isn’t…nanoseconds. Is it?

  Yes, it is. The system. Is breaking. These ciphers. In mother. Fucking. Nanoseconds! It just ground through a sixty-eight-hour task in nine billionths of a second!!!

  “This will change everything,” Kuba whispers. “Absolutely everything.”

  They upload the three queerly encrypted files from the WhistleBlowings blog—the ones that allegedly spill Phluttr’s darkest secrets. The system shatters their strange locks instantly. And, with no guidance or interaction from them. Like, none! It’s bizarre. It’s as if these documents were…expected? And much, much weirder, the cracked files don’t appear on the screen. Instead, their phones hum.

  “Poof!” Danna says. “Phluttr’s sending them! Directly to us! In Poof! How does it know to do that?”