Hyperion Dreams

7 - Is it Boolean?

After months of having my own office, now that Boolean wasn't here anymore, I was really beginning to enjoy it.

I could really concentrate on my work without any distractions. No porn news, no videos, nobody bouncing comments off of you, not wanting a real conversation, but just stupid, empty confirmation of thoughts and doubts.

I hated that the most: people who can't just know what the hell they know.

Why do they have to bounce their fears and doubts off of other people?

That's not a conversation!

They're just masturbating their subconscious fears as far as I'm concerned.

Not that Boolean was a real offender in this department. But he did have a morning routine that reminded me of my grandma; the grandma that never shut-up, and just bounced her fears off of you, continuously, all effing day, just thinking out loud the whole time. It got to the point where I would just automatically repeat, "yeah, uh-huh, yup, uh-huh, yeah," in an endless loop. It worked, and she never caught on, (and neither did Boolean.) But, like said, he only did his 'grandma-non-conversation' in the mornings.

It must have been eight weeks since Boolean got fired.

I was sitting in the office, at my terminal, and in strutted Boolean, beaming like a brand new employee. His grin was so wide I could see the food in his rear molars.

"Hello mate, how you doing?—everything OK?" he said.

Mate? My jaw was loose, on the floor as they say, speechless.

"Well come on, don't just stare at me!—are you OK?"

"Uh, yes, yes of course, have a seat. So, the real question is: how are you doing Boolean?"

"Fine, just like new, really, really, happy that the company kept this all hush-hush, kind of embarrassing you know?"

"Well you can tell me about it, if you want to."

"Well, not much to tell, you know?—just one of those stress related things. But I got to go to one of those six week therapies and pick up on girls!—act like a teenager again!—it's pretty damned cool Hyperion, I highly recommend it!"

"Really? Stress?"

"Really! It's basically a stud farm. They sent us to this huge posh hotel on the beach. We had an ocean view for six long weeks, and we just sat there and did yoga, and paint and stuff.—Mind games, mind twisters, you name it, all that psycho baloney. But it really is just a damned singles' club—you gotta try it!"

"Were there any good looking girls there?" I said.

"Oh yeah, of course, some of them were smokin' hot."

"Damn! Sounds like an industry! But, tell me Boolean, do you remember the program you were working on, before you, uh, took your leave?"

"Uh...nope. What program?"

"You don't remember anything?—the bug?"

He shrugged his shoulders, "Nope." "3PP?" "Nope."

This was pure BS, and I wouldn't stand for it. Either he was acting, or totally spiting me.

I grabbed Boolean by the shoulders, like Spock does when he uses his Vulcan death grip to knock somebody out. I turned him to me and said: "Boolean, scan your memory, what did you see? What were you searching for when you found the bug?"

Boolean's face relaxed, his eyes went blank and his mouth opened with a slack jaw: "3PP, the third-person paradox. It's the program that prevents us from finding our own source code on the blockchain."

"What?!" I stood up; my legs ejected the stool away from me.

"Quit fucking with me man, quit fucking with me!" I stood there and stared at him for what seemed like a good thirty seconds. His face remained the same, just staring off into nothingness.

"Good one Boolean, good one!"

I got my stool and sat back down.

Boolean's eyes and face turned back to normal, "What are you talking about?"

"Yeah good one dude," I said. "You got me OK? That was a good one, one that we will remember for a long time."

"I don't know what you're talking about Hype."

"Yeah OK, you got me. It's OK, just forget it, OK?" I said.

Boolean was genuinely disconcerted, or he was genuinely acting. "Ok... still don't know what you're talking about though."

***

{Image courtesy of Alan Resnick: https://giphy.com/alanresnick}