Rodney O. Lain
This undated article was published on iBrotha,
Rodney's own website that no longer exists. It is copyright 1997-98
by Rodney O. Lain. Links have been retained when possible, but many
go to the Internet
Wayback Machine.
There are no facts of life . . . only
fiction.
- from the television show "SeaQuest, DSV"
I knew the dame would be trouble as soon as she walked through
the door.
Her name was Locke. Beth Locke. She wanted to avail herself of
my services. But I knew her kind, so I wasn't buying her spiel.
"Lissen, toots. You's better try Mike Hammer, over on the east
side," I tell her. "He likes high-tech cases like yours."
"But ya gotta help me, Sam. I'm willing to pay anything." She
leans forward, pouts those big, red collagen-injected lips, then
leans back, crossing and uncrossing her legs real seductive like,
in a Sharon Stone "Basic Instinct" kinda way.
I'm a sucker for a nice set of gams, so she's got my undivided
attention now.
She tells me she's on a mission for her boss. A famous computer
huckster named Jobs. A real weirdo, if you ask me: he owns a fruit
company that makes computers. This kinda weirdness would probably
disturb any other private eye, but not me. I'd seen it all -
necrophiliacs, cross dressers... Windows 2000 - you know, the
really sick stuff. I've seen it all, and I can handle anything that
comes my way. That's why I charge my clients the big bucks.
Anyway, this dame says she's Jobs' head lawyer. At the mention
of lawyers, my right hand instinctively slips under my desk and
cops a feel of my piece - a .45 Magnum I call "Attitude Adjuster"
for obvious reasons. I don't take to shysters, so Attitude Adjuster
gets my hand real warm and sweaty before I feel calm enough to take
my hand from under the desk. Since this Locke chick is a
good-looking broad - not to mention I need the money - I ease my
hand off Attitude Adjuster and let her say her piece. I reach for
Attitude Adjuster again when she asks me to trust her.
"We need you to do some scavenger hunting for us, Sam. It won't
be a walk through the daisies, I tell ya. Do you have time to track
down some wise guys who's been blabbin' company secrets?"
It sounds too easy. So I play the tough negotiator, pumping her
for more info: "What's in it for me?"
"Enough dead presidents ta get ya away from this dump for a few
months," she says, running her hand across my desk, collecting dust
between her thumb and index finger.
"Stop that. You's ruinin' the day-kor."
"Oh, fer cryin' out loud, Sam! Stop tryin' ta be a comedian and
help me out here, 'kay? It's just a small favor."
"That's the same thing you said 'bout that Xerox PARC job," I
said, standing up. "And look what it got me. Everybody thinks I
robbed their secrets for Apple. Ain't that a bleep? That was a
fair-and square deal, and you know it. I delivered the stock
transfer to them, just like Jobs told me. I don't see why you
needed to buy anything from them: you guys already had the Mac OS
developed and ready to ship. But you's guys still let me take the
fall in the court of public opinion - not to mention you allowed
the media to string me up by the family jewels. You bastards. You
coulda cleared me up, but naw, you wanted to build a bad-boy image
for your little company. You really wanna build your image? You
should change that company logo. Multicolored Apple. Sheesh! And
while you're at it, put 'Micro' or 'soft' into your company name.
Then you're talkin' image."
She makes gagging sounds at that dig. It's been 12 years since
Apple bought Microsoft outright from whiny Bill Gates. Everybody
thought Apple should have capitalized on Microsoft's name by
incorporating it into theirs. It's been a big debate ever since.
Naturally, everybody thinks that I was part of some plan to
blackmail Microsoft into selling out to Apple. That makes good news
copy, so naturally, Apple played along once again - at my
expense.
I never forgave 'em for that.
In a weak attempt at a peace offering, she offers me one of her
Lucky Strikes. She lights it, takes a puff and hands it to me.
"Lucky Strike" is right. As I taste her lipstick on the cancer
stick, I wish I was that cigarette.
"I still don't know if I'm ya man, Miz Locke," I continue. "You
know I don't work too good with shysters, if you remember."
"But you have to," she persists. "The boss asked for you by
name. Besides, he still feels he owes you for that Xerox thing.
Doing this one could more than make it up to you, in his mind,
anyway."
"'Feels he owes' me? He'd better know he owes me. I did
all his dirty work, yet I'm sittin' here barely making ends meet,
while he lives like the golden child."
We argue some more, and after she hugs on me and makes me an
offer I can't refuse - and one I know she'll never fulfill - we're
on the way
Someone Is Stealing Their Mojo!
It seems her boss is in a wad over other companies copying their
products. Every time his company releases a new product, the
competition shamelessly apes it. It's an old trick, I chuckle to
myself. Let your competitor do all of the hard work, then you come
along and reap the benefits. Even I know that other companies refer
to Apple Computer as their "R & D, West Coast."
After Locke leaves, I do some research (i.e. finishing off my
half bottle of Jack Daniels), I go and round up the usual
suspects
The first - and obvious - place to check is Oracle, Inc., a
software company led by its flamboyant CEO Larry Ellison, Apple
Board member and all-around loudmouth.
Ellison greets me with a big smile. He must practice it in the
mirror, I think to myself. I don't waste any time and get to the
point.
"Word on the street is that you been spilling Apple's company
secrets on to Apple's biggest competitors."
"Come on, Sam! You can't believe that!"
"Why not? Everyone knows that you hated Microsoft. Now that
Apple's gotten rid of them, it's only natural for you to turn your
attention and hatred towards the only company that's bigger than
yours. Seeing that Apple has gotten bigger than Microsoft, it only
makes sense that you'd hate them now. It's human nature to need an
enemy to rail against - real enemy or imagined."
"You need to lay off the Jack Daniels, Sam. I have nothing to
gain from such nonsense. Besides, it's in my contract with the
Board of Directors to divulge all company records if my company is
a direct competitor with Apple. We cover this stuff every
year."
I needed to shake that tree anyway, even though I knew Ellison
was the only nut that'd drop. Just what I figured: he's clean.
For the next few days, I shake down every Silicon Valley stooley
I know. And an interesting electronic paper trail turns up: hacks
made into every Apple database across the country; hacks programmed
by sloppy programmers; each Apple innovation pre-empted by
vaporware announcements. I've seen this somewhere before...
I head back to my office, with a stock of additional research (a
bottle of Thunderbird, 1979).
Scratching my five-o'clock-shadowed chin, it all begins to add
up. There's only one person who could be stealing Apple's
secrets...
"Sam, honey?"
I turn at the sound of Beth's voice. As soon as I do, I hear the
floor creak behind me. Before I turn, a sharp blow strikes the back
of my head, and the room goes black...
Et, tu?
"I never expected you to get this close."
I'm blind folded, but I still recognize the voice, and a whiff
of Sand de Sable perfume confirms it.
"Beth, what the hell is this?"
"You were on to me, so I'm have to take you out, Sam."
"What the...?"
"Take off his blind fold, boys. I want him to see it all before
he dies."
I'm blinded by the light in my face, but I can see Beth to my
right. "Why are you doing this?" I ask, still not understanding
what's transpiring.
Beth smiles at me and begins ripping off her clothes. Hey, I'm
liking this. Then it gets real ugly, in a "The Crying Game" sorta
way. She then begins to rip off her face, which is a mask, to
reveal... Bill Gates.
One of his henchmen gives him a pair of taped up glasses, which
he puts on.
"Yes, Sam, it's me, the source of all your misery."
"You're as deranged as they say. What do you mean, source of my
misery? I never used Windows."
"I mean I am the one responsible for your being blamed for all
of Apple's bad press in the past," Gates says. "I arranged it so
that you were blamed for Xerox, and I persuaded Apple to say
nothing by offering them Internet Explorer. Everything else was
easy manipulation of the press. The media always was quick to kiss
my butt."
While he waxed wistfully, I tried to figure a way out of
this...
"Hey, Bill," I said in a fit of inspiration. "Did you read about
Apple's new OS? It's guaranteed to never crash. All of the
technology writers are saying they are so glad Microsoft finally
went belly up. They felt you were extorting them for the last 10
years."
Bill twitches involuntarily. "You lying. Everyone I talk to
misses the good old days of DOS and Windows 95. Why just
yesterday..."
I interrupt him: "So you are still smoking crack, like Mac OS
Rumors reported. Wake up, Bill. No one ever liked you. They only
feared your big bankroll. You saw how fast everyone turned on you
once the DOJ got that antitrust ruling to stick."
His twitch gets worse.
"Hey, Bill, you're not looking well. I can help you, but these
handcuffs kinda get in the way. Reach in my front pocket and take
that metal flask. You need it more than I do, brother."
As he reaches for my coat pocket, a gunshot rings out and he
clutches his hand in pain. I look behind him and see Beth Locke
with a two-handed grip on a Saturday Night Special.
"I knew you'd lead us to him, Sam," she says, motioning two
Apple security agents to take Gates. "But we had to let him play
out this little charade to lead us to this lair."
It turns out that after Apple bought out Microsoft, Gates went
crazy, dedicating his life to destroying Apple. He'd always tried
to destroy Apple before, hence the Xerox setup. But after the
buyout, he'd gotten worse. Cross-dressing became a regular thing.
Ditto for hacking into Apple's intranet. He figured that if he
could feed advance company to competitors, they'd bring Apple down,
or at least give them enough bad press to make them stumble and
lose mind share.
Neither scheme worked as planned.
Since Apple had always been the underdog, the blatant public
attacks only strengthened the company's popularity. That drove
Gates further into insanity, which led to the recent attempt to
impersonate Beth Locke.
But all's well that ends well.
Epilogue: January 2000...
Jobs gives his keynote address, right on schedule. As usual, he
wows the crowd by announcing all kinds of new products and all
kinds of new deals between his company and other high profilers.
The rubes eat it up. As a result, the company's stock rises even
higher. Jobs' followers are happy again, now that their leader's
mojo is intact.
The media continues to reconstruct Apple's success story, trying
to figure out how they do it - which is good. PC makers continue to
deconstruct Apple's products, also trying to figure out how they do
it - which is bad. Best of all, I made more of the big bucks;
mission accomplished.
It ain't easy being a hard-boiled private eye.
But somebody's gotta do it.
Fini.
- -
Note: The "Beth Locke" used in this story was in no way
intentionally patterned about the famous web columnist Beth Lock -
even though the resemblances are extraordinarily close :-)
