"I'm God, Baby!"

A good machinist is hard to find.

The arrival of our first one predated my hiring only by a little, but he had already found time to fall behind on his work.

We knew we were meeting our new machinist that day, but after waiting for him for 20 minutes most of us had busied ourselves with our computers doing trivial work or trying to figure our if we had the time wrong. We barely noticed him when he wandered in: you don't normally expect strangers to show up on a federal base, and sometimes you just stop looking for them. The man wandered up to Tie-Dye's desk where he made himself comfortable, primarily by kicking his muddy shoes up onto my boss' keyboard. Tie-dye looked at him, then at me, then back at the man at his desk, trying to piece together what was going on.

"Excuse me," it was Tie-dye's very politest voice, "but, who are you?"

The machinist casually laced his fingers behind his head and pressed his feet into the desk to lean back, "Who me? I'm God, baby!" Turning to one side, he made a little clicking noise at Daniella and nodded at her in a manner I'm sure he thought was devastatingly attractive.

***

She was livid, "You have got to get rid of him."

Crash always believes in the best of everybody, "Aww now, I know you've had your misunderstandings... but he does great work..."

"You don't make Holocaust jokes to jews."

"How would he have known you were Jewish?"

***

I'm not sure if it was the fact that he tried to randomly purchase magnesium (a rather flammable metal) instead of aluminum, that he randomly powder-coated a component likely to overheat in black and billed the project for it, or the fact that he tried to make the body with tack-welds which fell apart. Personally, I was most amused by when Daniella tried to have a talk with him so they could sort out their differences and learn to get along, and he accused her of "trying to get him alone because she wanted him." No matter the cause, it wasn't very long until we sent him on his way.

"Fuck it," Crash threw the powder-coated tack-welded sheet metal box aside in annoyance, "I wouldn't use it as a urinal."

The next machinist misprogrammed an expensive CNC mill so that it thought the metal wasn't some place it was. It did a full plunge through the workpiece's surface, got stuck there, grabbed the part we were working on, shook it like a rag-doll, ripped it in half, and dragged the top half out of the vice and into the ceiling of the machine so it could trash that for good measure.

The next machinist hid his files on a secret server and regularly threatened to not let anybody have his work when he believed his paycheck was late. He was, in reality, one of the only ones being paid on time.

Another one sprayed Sys with a can of compressed air for cleaning things, turning it upside down so it sprayed it in liquid form. He thought it was pretty funny, but Sys got a hospital trip for the burn.

A good machinist is hard to find.

Dress Up

There's a new girl with purple hair here handing me a ukulele. "Do you know how to play?"

"No," I take it anyway and imitate her in picking out the guitar opening to 'Brown-eyed-girl.' It's a shame Ginger and Giraffe aren't here, they fucking hate this song.

Enron lags a little behind us, smartphone pressed against his face, one finger from his other hand covering the opposing ear, "No Jason, that isn't what we agreed to..." He's interviewing a candidate at noon just as we finish lunch, and discussing the results of it with his peers as we wander the next beach. He's got somebody calling him to schedule an appointment during the car ride home, and when we get back to the Torii he paces the front lawn working out the details.

"It's alright," Kaleidoscope laughs, "I looked at Nexus, I realized what a CEO was, and I knew exactly what I was getting in to when I decided to date him."

He's on the phone a few weeks later in the park, and he's huddled over his laptop while Kalei(doscope) and I are enjoying a beer. I'm not about to tear into Enron for being so involved in his work. He's as happy a person as any of us, and this is what he would do for fun anyway.

***

"I can't fucking believe this."

DC giggles and covers the microphone on the radio, "Hush a minute, we can't swear on the radio."

I can hear Sid's voice over the crackle through the radio, "You guys will never make it in that car..."

"Well if it's got to die, right in front of the dorms isn't a bad place..."

"WY1HBT here," the radio chirps, "I got this covered."

"Who's that?" I ask my carmates.

DC grins, "Whacker."

A few minutes later Whacker rolls up in an oversized truck grinning from ear to ear. There's a yellow lightbar bolted to the top of the truck, and seems like he just couldn't be more excited to be jumping the car.

"What's with him?"

"He's proud to be saving the day."

***

If I had known it was going to be this sort of party I probably would have tried to find some less ratty jeans to wear. The bar is full of people who believe they are slick and sophisticated. It is somewhat amazing to watch the similarities between people flirting and explaining their business plans to one another. I can watch streams of my contacts interact with one another from the balcony, and they all believe they're very important and influential.

***

"Yeah," he says taking a drink, "You see a lot of stuff."

"We had a sophomore come up with doll-eyes a few weeks ago."

"Oh for the love of CHRIST," CoLo looks exasperated, "No more EMS talk at parties!"

***

"It's like playing dress-up,"

We're back in the Torii parking lot, watching Enron pace around on his phone, and Kalei is giving me a very puzzled look. "But it's real..."

"That doesn't mean they're playing any less!"

I can watch Kalei trying to be very very patient with me.

"It's all just games. It's no different from when we were small and pretending to be important, except that, as a side effect of pretending for so long, some of these people actually made it real. That isn't the point, though, because they're still just playing. They don't do all this theater because it's needed. They do it because they love it, because they enjoy being the important person they dreamed of more than they enjoy the actual tasks of the job."

Kalei laughs, "Maybe we should get him a pretty princess hat..."

Acquaintances and Friends

We jumped behind the rock the first time the cops came past. Black clothes, black tar, and what was steadily becoming a black rock.

When the car came around the second time Magpie was standing up but I got behind the rock in time. He ducked, and the car sat and idled what seemed like forever.

"They saw me," he said.

"Let's run for it,"

"He's going to come over here."

"Let's book it, he's not going to catch us."

"You stay here, I'm going before he sees you."

"No!"

And, before I could argue, Magpie was bounding up to the car. "Good evening officer!"

***

Sometimes the sunshine and warmth here is surreal and almost too good to be real. Three thousand miles away in a convertible I sometimes feel like I'm in a completely different world.

"Where you from?"

"Boston," Nexus grins.

"I love New England! Why'd you leave?"

He points to the sky.

"I guess."

"People are nice here, friendly."

I must have frowned.

"It's not that people out there aren't friendly, it is just I love the community here."

"I think there's a scale. There places where the norm is a broad sprawling social networks of acquaintances, and then there are people that you know will have your back when things go badly."

There are other two people in the car and they both smile a smile that says they think I'm very silly. I can't see Nexus' face. All I can think is that must have simply lived lives where they have never been in a situation where they really needed somebody to bail them out.

"I was told once the difference between acquaintances and friends is a friend is somebody who you'd feel comfortable calling at 2AM when you really need help, and who wouldn't mind such a call."

I considered that for a moment, but mostly thought of how different taking a call at 2AM was from directly approaching an annoyed police officer so your friend can get away.

"I think you'd be surprised Pika, at how many people will come to help you out when you're in trouble. You need to have a little more faith."

Who are the kids?

It is the fall after my first summer with the feds.

"It won't move,"

"Go for the 50's"

A year and a half ago they said we this was going to be the next big thing. I'm told they hired Ph D's and respected field experts and moved them out here to build this.

"Is there still space for the 50's?"

"Better be..."

A year ago a senator said no. He said the project had to be moved to his state or it wasn't going to happen at all, that the funding would be all cut. They laid off all those respected experts and moved the project south, where they milked the prototype funds for all they were worth. The proposal they returned to congress was thousands of times above budget and got laughed out, but it served the purpose they gave it. It was a bridge between that center's projects, and it kept their very finest scientists fed until the center could bring them a new project to sink their teeth into.

"You were right, lotsa torque in the 50's."

"I'm getting pretty tired, I may nap under my desk for a bit."

A year ago, when they all left Crash said no. He squirreled away all the funds he could find and started picking up labor as cheaply as he could. He continued the program, but kept it a secret. That included the internship program I was going to be in.

There is probably 500 feet of cat5 under my desk, and I barely shove it out of the way to crawl in the sleeping bag and try to catch an hour and a half nap. If we don't take one a day we get less productive.

Five months ago I realized I was assigned to two different labs at once for my upcoming internship. Rather than ask for clarification I opted to wait until I arrived and got to see both. This way I could figure out which one was cooler and could angle for it.

Four months ago Crash was standing in the hallway trying to convince me his was the better lab. He promised me this project would change everything, and I agreed. He took me, Tie-Dye, and Gemini out in the hallway and explained our situation. I was the assistant to the assistant to somebody important. Many people quit, including the important person. The Canadian was added to the staff, but he wasn't quite ever meant as a direct replacement. My boss quit after 3 months for more theoretical pursuits, and then it was just the Canadian, Gemini and me.

One month ago we got delayed because legal hadn't worked out who would get sued if we died during the demo. I wish I was kidding you. I called my school and told them that I wasn't coming back to campus, but that it would look great for the school if they let me call this my senior project. I had to call a few different professors before I found one who wasn't upset about the fact that I was only entering my junior year.

A week ago the team agreed. We would take the last night off to be will-rested, calm, and collected for the director. Three days ago we found out the networking equipment wasn't compatible. This morning the man in the suit wanted to try to cancel for rain. Four hours ago we found out the 20's didn't pull enough to power the drive system. The rest of the night blurs, although I remember realizing this was the third 100+ hour week in a row, that I didn't want to see another fast food container for a year, and that there were marks on my arms from falling asleep in piles of communications cabling.

At 5:08 AM the robot drove for the first time. Talk about cutting it close.

It is 9:50AM. The director is arriving in 40 minutes, plus or minus 20. I brush my hair and wash my face in a bathroom sink, and try somewhat in vain to brush my teeth. With my hoodie zipped up the whole way you can not see my ratty tie-dye tank top, and my cargo pants are long enough to mostly hide my knock-off Birkenstock sandals. Funny, this is not how I envisioned looking when meeting one of the most powerful people I'll ever encounter. I throw Gemini my hairbrush and he tries in vain to make his hair lie down.

It's 10:05. The man in the suit is a little horrified at our appearance. He is slightly pacified by the fact that Crash changed into his suit in his truck. There isn't time for Gemini and me to go home and change anyway.

It's 10:30. Guess there was time, but we missed it.

At 10:40 the director arrives. My first thought was how human he seemed. All we knew was his history: a general who was told the military politically couldn't do this science, so he left the military to run this place instead. We were instructed to still call him general anyway. I liked him because he swore a lot and laughed while he did it.

Somebody ran over a cable with a truck and I'm on the radio shouting instructions while Crash stalls. We pull it back online and I stand next to the television. Gemini sits on the other end of the telecon in the red dirt, looking a mildly disheveled but entirely unfazed. He use to be so relaxed about everything. Crash is rattling off specs, but the director looks bored and is watching the two of us.

"Huh," the he asks, "Who are the kids?"

"The," Crash stutters, "...boy is a fresh college graduate, and the girl is a junior in college. They are our interns."

"Huh." There is a pause. "Keep 'em."

And this is probably what made my career.

Consumer Trust

Street cleaner bristles, a dremel, and piles upon piles of locks and picks. A small group of adults, mostly in their 20's, huddle around it tinkering. Every once in a while a latch clicks open and somebody is patted on the back.

"This," Dany says, showing us an unusual keyway, "is an older style lock. It just has a lever in the back and you just press the whole way to the back and rotate to open it, no tumblers at all. The rest of the stuff in there blocks the wrong keys, and is the sort of lock you build skeleton keys for."

A key for one of them, a dremel, and 10 minutes later and I'm holding a key with only two sets of bumps on the bottom. It opens all the locks of that style on the table.

Some of the newbies stand in mild disbelief. That's the most common reaction I get when holding this class: that this is only the sort of thing which happens in movies, or by extremely skilled people. The concept that I can teach a room full of people all the skills they would need to break into a hefty percentage homes in under two hours always comes as a bit of a shock.

"What's the easiest brand to pick?" Some of them fumble with their phones during the class to find a locksmith to call to upgrade their doors.

"Masterlock padlocks are normally the first thing you practice on. Next are kwikset and schlege...but a lot of it is personal preference"

"But those things are everywhere."

It is true. I have seen them on yard fences, electric equipment, government storage spaces, countless yard totes, virtually everywhere. People routinely trust in these products to secure their belongings, and yet most of the consumer-used security products blatantly do not offer much resistance to even a modestly trained individual.


"I am disappointed," he said, "I had always thought personal security was one of those markets which would sort itself out, with snake oil being readily exposed."

The taller girl from juggling class looks down over the edge of her glasses, "You do realize they're really just out to sell you peace of mind right?"

"But this is a really easy-to-test product and the free market right? Inferior products will lose out to superior ones via competition..."

"Like in what industries? What industries are governed by this law that the superior product can run an inferior one out of business? Can you name a time it has happened?"

We sat and thought for probably half an hour, and we couldn't think of any.

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