Binary Vision Chapter 3

Another chapter available for your reading pleasure (I hope). You can see the first two chapters by clicking on the ‘Binary Vision’ category link in the sidebar.


“I must have found the shadow drive and written the program specifically to crack it.” It was the next morning and I was sitting at the Starbucks around the corner from the office, talking to Scott.

“So what was on it?”

I hesitated. “Probably better that I don’t tell you. There’s nothing I can do about it anyway.”

“So you cracked 128 bit encryption and found … something. And you needed to tell me about it … but you don’t want to talk about it …”

He had a point. I was being a bit ridiculous. “I found some information about an account with a lot of money in it.”

Scott leaned back to think about that for a second. “When you say “information,” are we talking about information in the sense of account numbers and passwords or you just know that the accounts exists?”

“Numbers and passwords.”

“So you found Brad’s top-secret Swiss Bank Account?”

“Pretty sure it’s in the Caymans; but yeah. He’s got an account with some serious cash in it.”

Now, you may recall that this started as a story about a woman. Or, more specifically, about how I’m not very good with women. I may have got sidetracked a little, but it’s still the same story, and this particular coffee shop meeting ties in nicely.

I was about to elaborate on my theories about Brad’s motivations, but I realized I had lost my audience. Scott was looking over my shoulder with a vacant grin. I followed his sight line just in time to see Carly walk up.

“Good morning, gentlemen.”

I jumped. And I don’t mean figuratively. I literally jumped up and, in the process, my elbow smacked into my coffee, which tumbled off the table. The resulting spray pattern just barely missed a fellow Starbucks patron. As luck would have it, this particular patron was well over six feet tall and wearing a skin-tight Ed Hardy shirt.

“What the fuck!?!” I don’t think any of the coffee actually hit him, but he was clearly offended by even the possibility.

“Uhhhh …” was my clever response.

“Sorry dude, it was just an accident,” said Scott.

“Fuck you, fat boy.” The guy was really getting warmed up.

At this point Carly decided to step in. “Hey, no harm done. We’ll even buy your coffee.”

“Bitch, I don’t need you to buy my fucking coffee.” He was still staring down Scott and I when he said that, but she managed to get his attention pretty immediately by reaching out and grabbing him by the balls. Apparently, Carly didn’t appreciate being referred to as “bitch.”

She emphasized that point by leading Mr. Douchebag (that’s how we’ve always referred to him in re-tellings of this story) to the door. In his understandably distracted state, he tripped on a seam in the concrete and took a tumble. Carly was generous enough to let go of his genitals at that point, and she sent him on his way with, “I’m keeping your coffee by the way. Consider it asshole tax.”

Just … wow. Smokin’ hot, tough, and she quotes Fight Club. It would not have been possible for me to be more in love than I was at that moment.

Carly’s only explanation for the incident was that she had grown up with a lot of macho guys and she didn’t feel any need to put up with their shit. Scott and I followed her back to her office like meek little puppies.

Scott and Carly chatted back and forth, but I don’t remember what they talked about. I was completely absorbed by this amazing, gorgeous woman. The edges of everything else were soft and hazy. In fact, I was disoriented enough that, before I realized what I was doing, I spewed out six words I had never spewed before: “Will you go out with me?”

The two of them froze, mid-conversation, and looked at me. Scott was about equal parts amused and horrified. Judging by her ear-to-ear grin, Carly was just amused.

I didn’t want to sound stupid, so I followed up my grade-school query with, “For dinner. Would you like to go out with me for dinner?” (Very smooth, I know; it’s a gift).

“I’d love to.”

This being my first successful attempt at setting up a date, I wasn’t quite sure what to do  next. I knew I had seen this scenario play out thousands of times on TV and in movies, but somehow none of that information reached places in my brain where I could turn it into action.

Fortunately, Carly was a little better at this kind of thing. “I’m free on Friday night.”

I looked over at Scott and knew exactly what he was thinking. Friday night was our guild’s main progress-raiding night. As healing leader, I was expected to be there.

Carly sensed my hesitation. “Or we could make it another night.”

“No! No, I can make it on Friday. We can go to my favorite restaurant. I’ll make a reservation for us at 7:00.”

As we left Carly’s office I could feel Scott’s eyes boring into my back. I guess I’ll never know what he was more pissed about, the raid, or the girl.

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