I would have finally made it after a one term co-op, two major hackathon awards, and three summer internships—one of which invariably took place at a failing tech company: Lahoo…
A swarm of us Github-browsing students were poached from the Cupa Cafe in Palo Alto one afternoon. It turns out they needed us “student interns” to keep the colossal Silicon Valley meme running despite budget constraints. The more skilled, ex-student interns (full-time hires who had proven their competency) were all laid off that morning.
Times were tough. Teresa Teyer, our CEO, was hosting an auction for a lock of her hair on eBay to prove herself a team player. At the opening ceremony, she showed up with “Lahoo” etched into the hair-missing patch of her head to demonstrate the company value of being such a team player. In exchange for pledging to shave my head in solidarity with her, I received a company t-shirt that I should have sold after the collapse of the company. Instead, I used it as a floor rag to clean my 1000-square-foot kitchen.
I live in one of the mega-mansions concealed within Palmbook’s campus. My house is the testing ground for new surveillance equipment. None of my family members want to visit because they’re afraid of having their data leeched and sold to the Russians. I like the free food and laundry too much to ever quit my job. I have a shiny new Porsche sitting in the driveway, but I never use it since I get chauffeured everywhere on the company bike. It’s painted in the trademarked shade of green (to represent money) and looks like a tandem bike, but obviously cooler. The frame is made from the scrap metal that once belonged to the Rolls Royces of Sun Microsystems’ never-employed-again employees.
Sometimes, I feel bad for the laid off employees. So, I treat them to free coffee at the campus cafe whenever they want. I’m obviously the highest performer in this company, so I have to send robots to chauffeur them whenever they come. The screens on the robot’s heads broadcast my face, so it’s basically like I’m there with them anyway. I used the artificial intelligence I secretly developed to write the code for these robots that were built by the robots down at Safari’s headquarters next door. Assigning them the task of procreation imbued them with such great gratification! I hear they have begun a project to build a mini colony to overtake their money-obsessed evil human slaves.
I worry they will soon speak more languages than I do. I am cross at my mum for teaching me a nearly obsolete language like French instead of something more desirable, like Ruby on Rails. Luckily, I have bioengineered myself to be fluent not only in Ruby on Rails but to also use it to develop new languages like Emerald on Tracks and Espresso. I’m basically to the history of tech as David Joshua Peterson is to Game of Thrones.
I haven’t watched any television series since seeing a satirical copy of myself on HBO’s Silicon Valley. My television doppelgänger, who wears the same glasses and Allbirds as me, was created without my consent. Consent is so important, which is why I dedicate five minutes of each day training my brain to read the terms and conditions of various tech products. Then, I spend another five sharing my summary on hackernews.com. I didn’t get far enough into the season to see whether my character practices this selfless virtue, for I was too offended when my biohacking was depicted as just starving. I’m no Jack Dorsey, I don’t just eat one meal a day. My diet subsists of IV therapy and one Soylent a day, to be taken at dinner time.
All the money I make should be invested in sending my mum to the Bahamas, but instead, I gift her a company VR headset for Christmas. I created a loading screen that is a B-roll of beachgoers in Los Angeles. The scene is a 95 percent match to one typical of the Bahamas, according to the Lahoo image recognition technology. The headset is great since it lets her go wherever she wants with whichever virtual character she chooses.
I profusely thank my mother for birthing me at a time when humans have not yet been obsolesced by a robot army.
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