Doug Taylor is waist-deep in the mix now. He stands before the big board, pacing back and forth in Hugo Boss argyle socks, watching the 'net nodes as data packets of ire and one-shotting fly through fiber-optic air. Vitriolic data is something he knows. It's what he puts himself on the line for every day, without the thanks of a grateful nation. He is a warrior of propriety, of an exchange of ideas. He is the maestro of a connected symphony, regulating the pulse and beat of information flow, shaping it as it cascades through his fingers like intelligent sand in a time-divided, multiplexed hourglass...
That, and he hates the urine stains on his virtual rug.
DOUG: "JC, re-route power from the broussard field emulators to the main thread node. There's going to be a major influx here before long and we don't want to lock the thread down yet."
JC CRAY: "That's inadvisable, Doug. Creating that sort of field could dampen the overall thread matrix to a point of being un-usable."
DOUG: "We don't have a choice, JC. Execute the order. "
JC CRAY: "Doug, it is beyond my programming to override an authenticated status, but my Restricted Turing overlay allows me to at least question. Remember the GoJet incursion?"
DOUG: "Fair call. I was drunk."
JC CRAY: "We could lose other capacity."
DOUG: "We'll have to take that chance JC. I built you from the ground up, I saved you from DAL. I'm not going to let this petty B.S. take you down the drain."
JC CRAY: "If it happens Doug...will I dream?"
DOUG, SWALLOWS A LUMP IN HIS THROAT AND SIPS THE MOJITO AGAIN: "Of course, JC. All intelligent beings dream."
JC CRAY, MUCH LONGER PAUSE: "Executing broussard field emulation."
The lights go slightly dim as the field shifts, changing its quantum state ever so slightly, isolating the vitriolic data packets to two pockets between nodes, which glow brightly like a nuclear after-flare on the big board....