Hobbies, writing, tinkering.

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Billionaires

I've met two billionaires in my life. Both were on the same day, in the same room. It was in Silicon Valley, in one of those drab, eggshell-colored conference rooms, in one of those drab, two-story office buildings where crew-cut men in shirtsleeves may have once programmed microcontrollers for things like toaster ovens or SCUD missiles. Many of those men are dead now, and the buildings are occupied by a new generation of people, multi-gendered and clad in denim and Lululemon, who program algorithms to "monetize" our anxiety and mint yet more billionaires.

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Strangers in Need

The boy, Denny, sat in a window booth of the diner. He stared out at the snow drifts along High Street, brooding about the blizzard that had closed the schools and most of the businesses in Kernsburg that morning. The street was empty except for a group of kids pulling sleds on their way to Bishop's Hill. 

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Memorabilia

Colleen suggested that they sit near the window. The view of the courtyard was so pretty, she said, and there was such a nice breeze on these early summer afternoons.

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