"I was so sleepy, I felt
like I was half-baked. Couldn't concentrate."
*You were up all night because you left it to the last minute*, Alan
thought. But Kurt knew that, was waiting to be reassured about it. "I
don't know how you get as much done as you do. Must be really hard."
"It's not so bad," Kurt said, dragging on his cigarette and not quite
disguising his grin. "It gets easier every time."
"Yeah, we're going to get this down to a science someday," Alan
said. "Something we can teach anyone to do."
"That would be so cool," Kurt said, and put his boots up on the
dash. "God, you could pick all the parts you needed out of the trash,
throw a little methodology at them, and out would pop this thing that
destroyed the phone company."
"This is going to be a fun meeting," Alan said.
"Shit, yeah. They're going to be terrified of us."
"Someday. Maybe it starts today."
#
The Bell boardroom looked more like a retail operation than a back
office, decked out in brand-consistent livery, from the fabric-dyed rag
carpets to the avant-garde lighting fixtures. They were given espressos
by the young secretary-barista whose skirt-and-top number was some kind
of reinterpreted ravewear outfit toned down for a corporate workplace.
"So this is the new Bell," Kurt said, once she had gone. "Our tax
dollars at work."
"This is good work," Alan said, gesturing at the blown-up artwork of
pan-ethnic models who were extraordinary- but not beautiful-looking on
the walls.
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