Dickens

woops

is not like other people

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We get:

Screens, VSCode, pop-up alerts. Fishes in aquariums, an open floorplan. Fisheye effect to facial recognition. Text messages, email, webcams—our protagonist is a code monkey, has won some kind of prize. The area codes are 310, 312, 424, 631, and 863, for West L.A., Chicago, West L.A., New York, and the Florida Heartland, respectively.
 

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Then:

Nature. So much nature. Endless nature. Forests and meadows and glaciers, endless green; the helicopter surveying it touches down, our code monkey jumps out, walks past boulders, a brook, up to a building in that international-modernist style: vertical slatted dark-wood walls, that Nordic look that’s been exported everywhere; and enormous wall-sized panes of glass, black-metal minimalism. His approach is tentative, peering around uncertainly in his New Balance sneakers, carry-on in hand. Facial recognition AI greets him as Caleb Smith—smith, a worker in metal, who forges weapons and tools. It takes a photo of his face; the flash blinds him, and he jumps back; metal passcard laser-carved with his image shoots out the door-slot, and it sums up Caleb’s entire persona in this film—bewildered, confused, unsure how to react or what’s going down.
 

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Nathan's glasses are rimless, and have tortoiseshell temple tips. He's wearing a heather gray American Apparel tank, and black Nike running shorts.
 

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NB: The last line casts Nathan as godhead—Abrahamic beard, head shaved like a monk, full-blown alcoholism from the weight of being Creator. You know what “Caleb” means? It's a Hebrew name that means faithful, whole-hearted, devoted to God. You know what “Nathan” means? It's also a Hebrew name, which translates to "God has given."
 

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I have spent long hours perusing auction house listings of bulk sales of film props and worn clothing, finding out the threadcount of shirts, the listing price at Old Navy the year a pair of shorts was released.
 

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@luka Craner has never taken me seriously as a writer and as the inheritor of his craftmanship, no matter how many Citta Violenta posts I read.

Maybe if you put a good word in for me it will help?
 

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I'm sure he finds it very de classe that I'm doing this power-conveyed-in-objects analysis of nouveau riche tech founders, but these are the people who increasingly run the world!
 

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Scientists, of course, are archetypally control freaks. They keep everything under glass. Every action must be precise, every condition controlled. Sealed off, sterile. Artists archetypally are messy. They deal with the inexactitude of life.
 
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