Chapter 1

Marty was a computer whiz, well at least in his own mind. When he went to sleep at night, visions of programs yet un-written bounced in his head, just as often as the images of scantily clad young women he knew from school. Maybe if he had actually had the gumption to talk to one of them, this story would never have happened. It's an interesting thought at least.

The noise from the yard of the trailer park filtered in to his room, just like the bright yellow jagged light through his torn window curtains. People who talk about soft light had never felt the daggers from a risen sun jabbing into their eyelids. The yelling of kids playing outside wasn't so bad, if the groaning of his drunk neighbors to get them to quiet down didn't grate so much on his ears.

Of course, he should have known that just living in a trailer park would have these kind of problems. But the Winnebago seemed like such an answer to all his problems. I guess the failure to plan ahead really was a plan to fail after all. How would he know that the city wouldn't let you just park a Winnebago anywhere? His parents had said they would let him park it in their back yard after school let out, but now that he had a real job, several hundred miles away from their house, he couldn't exactly commute back and forth.

'It's an investment that will pay off quickly' ... he had assured his dad. Well, yeah if you define quickly in just the right way. How was he to know that the after market value was so pitiful. "move up to a class A comfort and style" the salesman had promised. Too bad he hadn't seen it in person. The cameraman must have been using a really-wide angle lens to make this place look big in those pictures.

The ringing of the alarm in the bathroom finally got him out of bed. The two alarms near the bed were easily silenced and convinced to snooze several minutes ago by his sleepy hand. Bolting upright from his fuzzy warm bed he remembered why had he set an alarm out of reach. He knew himself too well. Any alarm close by would be disabled before his brain had even woken up. Maybe there was something that he could use in his research paper about that ... Oh yeah. That research paper was long gone, as was the class in developmental physiology. He'd aced the class, but every once in a while the perpetual-student in him wanted to just be back in school where things seemed a lot simpler.

Regardless of how tired, or grumpy he felt, Today was the "first day of the rest of his life". Why did his mom's trite phrases come so easily into his head when he was just waking up? Sure, her bubbly personality, and almost air-head enthusiasm about life did tend toward more toward proverbs and aphorisms, but he did love her, and in this case, really miss her. Well, mostly her cooking right now, but he did miss her anyway. The idea of getting out of bed, pulling on a robe, and just walking out to a steaming breakfast table was enormously appealing. A lot more than the reality of cold cereal and a stale muffin, let me tell you.

There he was going again, distracting himself from waking up, or at least from getting up. The future calls! Even if it is a job working as a help-desk Bob toiling to explain the obvious to the incompetent.

Scratching his chin, Marty decided he could get away with not shaving this morning. If it had been his first week on the job, or even the first month, he probably would have gone ahead and shaved, but now the reality of being a voice on the phone, where no one sees you except for your co-workers had settled down on his shoulders like a comfy blanket. If only the blanket didn't threaten to smother him in ennui, and sap his energy like a blood-sucking leach.

Oh yeah, that wasn't the job doing that. That was George. The co-worker from Heck. George wasn't even hot enough to be the co-worker from Hell. Heck was more like it. Just a bland bland fellow who didn't really want to do anything, even if you showed him how. Marty had fallen into George's trap already and figured out how to get out, which was a small miracle itself. No matter how simple, George could just never seem to do something right the second time. Sure, if you were standing over him, and telling him exactly what to type, and where to click, he could file a help-ticket. Not that he could actually solve the problem, but at least he could put it in the system so someone else could lose their life trying to figure out what in the world he was talking about. Marty's mentor had warned him about George, but he didn't really believe her. How could someone work with computers and not be enthusiastic? By being the bosses best friend from grade school apparently.

Dragging himself out of bed, Marty shuffled into the bathroom and silenced the alarm. A cold shower and a pair of blue jeans with the corporate logo shirt completed his morning preparation. Time to get going.