Quality Assurance

Victor Genevieve knew all too well the “ins and outs” of computers.

He wrote his first computer program when he was 10. He sold his first program to IBM when he was 18 – it was 1983, “War Games” was the big movie, and every kid with a phone modem wanted to be a hacker. Victor, or Vic, or “Kid-Tornado” as his bulletin-board friends knew him, was someone who knew how to program – because he knew how to solve problems.

The program he had created was able to identify, in near linear time, memory leaks in other software – it was a simple application of a graph theory algorithm, but it made him famous …

For a while.

Then came real life, and work, and stupidity, and failure, and blah, blah, blah …

But this was 2014.

And, today’s problem was a bit different.

Dr. Leopold Scrage worked as Chief of Research for Tarrow Aerospace in Seattle, WA – an ancient and respected and well loved local business. Tarrow’s planes have problems with their batteries and Dr. Scrage knew this 10 years ago. Before Pacifica-Air, before Mumbair, before Romanian Air Lines 909 – before over 1,000 lives had been lost to a lithium battery exploding like a bomb and ripping the tail section off the plane at several hundred miles per hour.

Dr. Scrage intended to tell everything …

The whole enchilada …

The complete story on what had happened …

He also enjoyed jogging.

Vic loved joggers, and he loved homeless people. He believed that the homeless were so deliberately ignored by their “surroundings”, that to be homeless, in a city like Seattle, was to be invisible. Vic loved being invisible.

Dr. Scrage couldn’t be allowed to testify or make a deal or write a book or go on a speaking tour. Dr. Scrage had committed the cardinal sin of being an insider – to try to go “outside” again. There is no outside, not after you have been inside.

Vic wanted to become rich – as a software engineer – but it never quite worked out.

When the DOT.COM bubble burst in the 2000′s, and he found himself the owner of a near bankrupt software testing company, he knew he had to make a change.

He had always been in great shape. He had trained in martial arts – different techniques. He knew how to use guns and owned guns. He understood the foundations of security. Sure, he didn’t know EVERYTHING – but he knew he didn’t want to be poor and homeless.

So he figured out that maybe, after all his employees were fired, after his company was gutted, he could form a consulting company – “software quality assurance”.

He could charge outrageous amounts – they always do.

He could speak the language and get paid directly, from corporate accounts – or indirectly, as a sponsor for some “corporate outing”.

He could be, very easily, a hit-man – a hired killer.

Today’s job was a favorite – the “bump and push”.

He was thinking about it – it was almost 6 AM:

“Leopold, the ‘jogger’, will cross the bridge. I will be hunkered down, on the other side, as he jogs by – looking like a homeless person who is barely awake (or maybe smoking a cigarette).”

“I will be clutching a knife, covered in a nearly untraceable heart-attack inducing agent, and when he passes by, on the other side, I will run across, stab him in the side, and push him off the bridge.”

“Then, after this is done, I will walk away – dropping the knife off the bridge into the water below.”

Victor knew his job – he understood “quality assurance”.

(too be continued)

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QUARTRAINIUM 57: Tele-prompter speaks, but the silence is deafening

[As he steps outside the door, bracing for torrential rains, his mind does much to explore - before his fellows become insane. Clownadamus (Dr. Freckles), notorious for words, phrases, statements, and other issuing memorandum, speaks from TRUTH this morning, after consulting with crows and flowers and the SUN. Heed these broken ideas.]

KELMER is the break-water, for Russian princes, English tea, and cowardly, scuttling, bugs of nothing. THE DARK SEAS, penetrated by earthen ramparts and COSSACK nightmares. CHEMICAL STREAMS are spotted, near Taruska, not far from the ancient altar of GIMBUS.

Southern flight, mourning the bent, broken – sunken and despotic.

Northern route, turbulent, forgetful, with truncheon and bat and whip.

BAMUS sends a resounding MAYBE to the DUTCH KING as parlor maids break down the tents of woe. Cherished riddles and token gestures greet the CLUELESS minstrel of default.

MAGIC NUMBERS: { 4.5, 33, 4414, pi/45 }

MONDIS!

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I am not a pessimist, not in the long term …

Many believe, based upon first impressions and other stereotypes, that I am a pessimist – this “feels” correct to them, because they are often deeply immersed in delusion.

I am a pessimist with respect to the short-term.

In the short-term, over the next few years (maybe a decade) the world and the United States will experience great tests – both collectively and individually.

How we respond to these “tests” will define our future.

How we respond to these challenges will be our only way to have a future.

Long term I believe humans gravitate back to their dignity, self-reliance, intelligence and liberty.

And, I just have to believe that great minds, men and women, are even right now, at this minute, toiling away to find a means to “replace OIL”, to “travel faster than light”. To allow the human race to take a step, even if pensive, off Planet Earth and towards the stars. No one can promise or guarantee this, but I have faith in two powerful forces: a) human liberty and b) human intellect.

Free men and women can change the world.

So I dream of a day, when I hear this announcement:

“Mr. X, of Z, father of N, has travelled to Mars, landed, and returned in under 1 week.”

This sounds impossible – for now it is.

But I dream of this any ways.

I dream because I work also.

I dream because we must start believing in the power of free men and women, again.

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POW

Alone,
and still standing …

Broken,
and still together …

Afraid,
and not alone …

Brothers and sisters,
in green,
and loam,
and black,
and gold.

We are all different,
but we remember the promise.

You stand with others,
and are surrounded by guns,
wire,
pain,
sadness,
regret,
questions.

Your captors torment,
vile,
piercing eyes of hate.

Their hate came from somewhere – but not from you.

We just want you home – Brothers and sisters …

We want you back,
with family,
love,
and peace.

We just want the wars to end.

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