Read Online Concrete Underground (2010) by Moxie Mezcal - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Moxie Mezcal
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introverted kid who would rather stay inside pouring over lines of code than go outside and play baseball or talk to girls. The new Max wasted no time in making the rounds to potential investors to pitch his new startup, Abrasax.
Initially just a search engine, the company quickly expanded its reach to include e-mail, social networking, online storage and hosting, software development, and finally the web-based operating system Envisage that moved the user's entire computing experience onto Abrasax's servers. Max promoted it as giving users the freedom to access their documents and run their applications anywhere, any time, and on any computer. Critics complained that Abrasax would share user's data with advertisers to help target their marketing and in the process drive up Abrasax's own fees. However, the company's overwhelming surge in users and ad revenue ensured that critics were swiftly marginalized.
---
Max led Columbine and me to a remote part of the warehouse through a confusing series of twists and turns that I couldn't have possibly replicated. I would have sworn for a while it felt like we were just going in circles, except we never passed the same point twice. We finally arrived at a dead end wall - a real solid wall, not just more black curtains. It had three doors, each a different color - red, black, and white. There was a small white plastic placard affixed to the wall between the first and second doors, which read:
Gallery of Locked Doors
Or, Bell Out of Order
In the lower right corner was the same small crown and globe symbol from the back of the rave card.
There was another group of people looking at the gallery - two couples, visibly drunk, laughing hysterically as they tried unsuccessfully to open the doors, twisting and yanking on door knobs and knocking repeatedly. They straightened up as they saw us approach and started to walk away.
As he passed me, one of the men said, "Good luck."
Once they turned the corner, leaving no one in sight but the three of us, Max pulled out an old-fashioned bit key made out of red metal. He slid it into the lock of the red door and turned the knob. It opened, and he stepped to one side to let us through.
"Who needs luck when you've got a key?" I said as I passed him.
"Precisely," Max said, tapping the butt of the key to my chest.
The door led to a descending flight of stairs. As we started down, I asked Max, "What's that symbol about on the placard out there?"
"That's the symbol for the Highwater Society. It lets us know where to find each other," he answered.
"And what exactly is the Highwater Society?" I pressed.
"You're about to meet them."
The stairs brought us into a large, dimly-lit room adorned lavishly in reds and blacks. One side was a lounge area with a wet bar where about twenty people were hanging out - all young, beautiful, and immaculately dressed, drinking and talking too loudly in the way that only people who are desperate to be noticed can, like they are daring you not to eavesdrop.
Brian was there. So was Lily. Neither seemed happy to see me.
Columbine walked over to the bar and greeted Lily with a hug. Max exchanged brief greetings with a few of the other guests before being approached by a short man with prematurely thinning hair in an ostentatiously expensive suit.
"It's getting late. When do we start?" he asked testily as he tapped his watch.
Max reached out to pinch his cheek and cooed condescendingly, "Patience, Peterman. I have to be a gracious host and show my guest around."
"We've been waiting here for two hours," the other man responded.
"Then I'm sure you can wait a little bit longer. In the meantime, why not try enjoying yourself a little? Everyone else seems to be," Max replied, and then added with a vicious grin, "And if you get really bored, I'm sure Lilian will be happy to entertain you."
"How am I supposed to do that?" Lily asked.
Max formed his lips into an "O" and held his right hand up in front of his mouth,
Initially just a search engine, the company quickly expanded its reach to include e-mail, social networking, online storage and hosting, software development, and finally the web-based operating system Envisage that moved the user's entire computing experience onto Abrasax's servers. Max promoted it as giving users the freedom to access their documents and run their applications anywhere, any time, and on any computer. Critics complained that Abrasax would share user's data with advertisers to help target their marketing and in the process drive up Abrasax's own fees. However, the company's overwhelming surge in users and ad revenue ensured that critics were swiftly marginalized.
---
Max led Columbine and me to a remote part of the warehouse through a confusing series of twists and turns that I couldn't have possibly replicated. I would have sworn for a while it felt like we were just going in circles, except we never passed the same point twice. We finally arrived at a dead end wall - a real solid wall, not just more black curtains. It had three doors, each a different color - red, black, and white. There was a small white plastic placard affixed to the wall between the first and second doors, which read:
Gallery of Locked Doors
Or, Bell Out of Order
In the lower right corner was the same small crown and globe symbol from the back of the rave card.
There was another group of people looking at the gallery - two couples, visibly drunk, laughing hysterically as they tried unsuccessfully to open the doors, twisting and yanking on door knobs and knocking repeatedly. They straightened up as they saw us approach and started to walk away.
As he passed me, one of the men said, "Good luck."
Once they turned the corner, leaving no one in sight but the three of us, Max pulled out an old-fashioned bit key made out of red metal. He slid it into the lock of the red door and turned the knob. It opened, and he stepped to one side to let us through.
"Who needs luck when you've got a key?" I said as I passed him.
"Precisely," Max said, tapping the butt of the key to my chest.
The door led to a descending flight of stairs. As we started down, I asked Max, "What's that symbol about on the placard out there?"
"That's the symbol for the Highwater Society. It lets us know where to find each other," he answered.
"And what exactly is the Highwater Society?" I pressed.
"You're about to meet them."
The stairs brought us into a large, dimly-lit room adorned lavishly in reds and blacks. One side was a lounge area with a wet bar where about twenty people were hanging out - all young, beautiful, and immaculately dressed, drinking and talking too loudly in the way that only people who are desperate to be noticed can, like they are daring you not to eavesdrop.
Brian was there. So was Lily. Neither seemed happy to see me.
Columbine walked over to the bar and greeted Lily with a hug. Max exchanged brief greetings with a few of the other guests before being approached by a short man with prematurely thinning hair in an ostentatiously expensive suit.
"It's getting late. When do we start?" he asked testily as he tapped his watch.
Max reached out to pinch his cheek and cooed condescendingly, "Patience, Peterman. I have to be a gracious host and show my guest around."
"We've been waiting here for two hours," the other man responded.
"Then I'm sure you can wait a little bit longer. In the meantime, why not try enjoying yourself a little? Everyone else seems to be," Max replied, and then added with a vicious grin, "And if you get really bored, I'm sure Lilian will be happy to entertain you."
"How am I supposed to do that?" Lily asked.
Max formed his lips into an "O" and held his right hand up in front of his mouth,
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