“Not so bright, child. I was able to hack into your laptop, no problem. I just walked right through your front door, and you let me right in.”
Schwabby types a quick reply to that message then opens up a page of code he is working on separately. He looks at me and says casually, “Malbolge.” I smile and nod my understanding as if I have even the vaguest sense what he is talking about. He types rapidly, finishes his work and runs the command.
He smiles at me. “All right, I’m ready to go.”
We pop up, and I start to head away from the mall. But Schwab calls to me, “Hey, Payton, would you mind if we went this way?” He points toward the middle of the mall’s outdoor seating area.
Schwab walks straight down the middle of the tables. For the first time, I notice he is walking right toward Alfred, the tech security guy we saw yesterday, sitting alone behind his laptop. To my surprise and, judging by the expression on his face, to Alfred’s surprise also, Schwab walks right up to him; with his computer in hand, he presses a button and speaks to Alfred. “Sometimes, you have to open the front door to see who is knocking outside.”
He closes his laptop and walks away. A picture of a light bulb suddenly appears in the middle of Alfred’s screen, with the words “Yeah, I’m bright” written underneath. The bulb starts glowing brighter and brighter as Alfred frantically presses buttons, trying to come up with a stop. I run to catch up with Schwab. Looking back, I see smoke billowing out of Alfred’s laptop.
Schwab chuckles. “Rookie.”
I have to say, I do admire bright people, and Schwab is as brilliant as they come. We talk about anything and everything on our way back to meet our crew.
Racism and xenophobia are the hamster wheel on which the elite keep the simple among us running, chasing after the crumbs from people who have less than them, rather than wondering why somebody else has all the bread,
“Not so bright, child. I was able to hack into your laptop, no problem. I just walked right through your front door, and you let me right in.”
Schwabby types a quick reply to that message then opens up a page of code he is working on separately. He looks at me and says casually, “Malbolge.” I smile and nod my understanding as if I have even the vaguest sense what he is talking about. He types rapidly, finishes his work and runs the command.
He smiles at me. “All right, I’m ready to go.”
We pop up, and I start to head away from the mall. But Schwab calls to me, “Hey, Payton, would you mind if we went this way?” He points toward the middle of the mall’s outdoor seating area.
Schwab walks straight down the middle of the tables. For the first time, I notice he is walking right toward Alfred, the tech security guy we saw yesterday, sitting alone behind his laptop. To my surprise and, judging by the expression on his face, to Alfred’s surprise also, Schwab walks right up to him; with his computer in hand, he presses a button and speaks to Alfred. “Sometimes, you have to open the front door to see who is knocking outside.”
He closes his laptop and walks away. A picture of a light bulb suddenly appears in the middle of Alfred’s screen, with the words “Yeah, I’m bright” written underneath. The bulb starts glowing brighter and brighter as Alfred frantically presses buttons, trying to come up with a stop. I run to catch up with Schwab. Looking back, I see smoke billowing out of Alfred’s laptop.
Schwab chuckles. “Rookie.”
I have to say, I do admire bright people, and Schwab is as brilliant as they come. We talk about anything and everything on our way back to meet our crew.
Racism and xenophobia are the hamster wheel on which the elite keep the simple among us running, chasing after the crumbs from people who have less than them, rather than wondering why somebody else has all the bread,
