19-04-2019, 11:01 PM
"So, ya won't talk ta Mikey for me, Tom?" Whyte replied. "Get me outta this, for old time's sake? Eh, what does it matter? I've had a pretty fucking good run. Well, you've poked around by now, you know."
Troy flipped through channels showing the same images of Helen's shopping spree until he got to financial news. He got up to get some chips to go with his sandwich.
"I'm afraid you've caught me in the middle of something important, Mr. Whyte." Troy said, as he thought about whether or not to grab a small bag of potato chips or cheese puffs. After some deliberation, he settled on the regular chips and reached for those. Then he saw the plain corn chips and thought that they also had their merits. The sandwich was a ham & cheese with mustard, it just needed a good salty crunch of some kind to go with it. "But I'll be certain to give your words the consideration that they deserve." Troy continued, as he thought how the corn chips were always the last ones in the big box, after all the good stuff was gone. Why not show the corn chips some love? They're part of the team, too. Troy put the regular ones back, took the corn chips, and returned to the couch.
"So, when the time comes, you're not going to be Mr. 'No, Helen! If you kill him, you'll be just as bad as him,' then? I've got to say, that's a bit unexpected."
"Greeks write thousand-page epic poems about revenge, sir. That was never going to be me. Julie's business number is listed, too. And the fact that you chose me to grace with this call means that you imagined I'd be the soft heart that you could get to. I get that you had to try. I know I'm not the first to say that San Finzione's primary export is Fear of Helen."
"Or perhaps, I was calling to say goodbye, Mr. Equals." Whyte responded. "By the way, did you know that Whyte Electronics also makes military drones?"
There was the sound of an explosion.
* * *
"Yes, Mr. Whyte," Troy continued, calmly opening Julie's laptop. "Yes, I did. And did you know that my neighbors' big satellite dish isn't hooked up to their TV at all, but to a small SAM defense battery that Helen put in?" Two more explosions followed outside. "She'd said that a drone strike was 'just the sort of thing a tech weenie who hides behind his phone like him might try.' The woman really DOES try to think of everything. Why?" Troy asked, innocently. "Are you trying to blow up my house with drones, sir? That's so cool! I'm probably missing a great show outside!"
Another explosion followed, then silence.
"I'm guessing Helen's got far more little missiles than you have drones. They are surprisingly little missiles, too. Got to hold a disarmed one, they're about as big as a deodorant stick. Neighbors probably think we're setting off fireworks. I may have to talk to the security officer in a bit. So, you know, I guess that brings down my day a little. Excellent work there, sir."
Troy entered his login and brought up his usual browser windows.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Whyte. I know you expected this conversation to be over by now. I'm kind of surprised you've been able to get a signal out of Seattle this long. With all the problems everyone's been having today. You might not have noticed, though. I mean, you built them both, right?"
Whyte recalled Helen using those words last night and tried to think what their significance might be.
"I'm afraid you have me at a loss, Mr. Equals."
"Funny you should say that, sir." Troy replied. "Because loss is what it's all about. Loss of signal. Practically nobody's been able to stay on the phone more than a couple of minutes in Seattle all morning. Apparently, it's from all these Whyte brand jammers going off in the city, disrupting the conference, and the lives of everyone within city limits. Not down here in Federal Way, of course. Have you been too busy with your little game with Helen to tune in to non-celebrity gossip news, sir?"
Troy could hear fumbling for something on the other end, followed by the sound of a television switching channels.
"Since they don't really do that 'for those who just tuned in' thing like on TV, I'll save you some time, Mr. Whyte." Troy continued. "There's this crazy hacker group operating out of Eastern Europe, somewhere on the Mediterranean; and they've put out a statement that they're going to be protesting STRANGERS by disrupting communications with roving Whyte cell signal jammers around downtown Seattle. They were very specific about that brand name, sir. You got some good product placement out of it. I think they mentioned Whyte Telecom twelve times, and your own name seven times, as being the ones making it all possible. They're not disrupting emergency or aircraft frequencies, but they've made certain to mention that there's a button for that if they really wanted to."
Troy heard sounds of Whyte sputtering on the other end of the line as he logged into his business pages.
"There's no button like that on my jammers, Mr. Equals."
Troy flipped through channels showing the same images of Helen's shopping spree until he got to financial news. He got up to get some chips to go with his sandwich.
"I'm afraid you've caught me in the middle of something important, Mr. Whyte." Troy said, as he thought about whether or not to grab a small bag of potato chips or cheese puffs. After some deliberation, he settled on the regular chips and reached for those. Then he saw the plain corn chips and thought that they also had their merits. The sandwich was a ham & cheese with mustard, it just needed a good salty crunch of some kind to go with it. "But I'll be certain to give your words the consideration that they deserve." Troy continued, as he thought how the corn chips were always the last ones in the big box, after all the good stuff was gone. Why not show the corn chips some love? They're part of the team, too. Troy put the regular ones back, took the corn chips, and returned to the couch.
"So, when the time comes, you're not going to be Mr. 'No, Helen! If you kill him, you'll be just as bad as him,' then? I've got to say, that's a bit unexpected."
"Greeks write thousand-page epic poems about revenge, sir. That was never going to be me. Julie's business number is listed, too. And the fact that you chose me to grace with this call means that you imagined I'd be the soft heart that you could get to. I get that you had to try. I know I'm not the first to say that San Finzione's primary export is Fear of Helen."
"Or perhaps, I was calling to say goodbye, Mr. Equals." Whyte responded. "By the way, did you know that Whyte Electronics also makes military drones?"
There was the sound of an explosion.
* * *
"Yes, Mr. Whyte," Troy continued, calmly opening Julie's laptop. "Yes, I did. And did you know that my neighbors' big satellite dish isn't hooked up to their TV at all, but to a small SAM defense battery that Helen put in?" Two more explosions followed outside. "She'd said that a drone strike was 'just the sort of thing a tech weenie who hides behind his phone like him might try.' The woman really DOES try to think of everything. Why?" Troy asked, innocently. "Are you trying to blow up my house with drones, sir? That's so cool! I'm probably missing a great show outside!"
Another explosion followed, then silence.
"I'm guessing Helen's got far more little missiles than you have drones. They are surprisingly little missiles, too. Got to hold a disarmed one, they're about as big as a deodorant stick. Neighbors probably think we're setting off fireworks. I may have to talk to the security officer in a bit. So, you know, I guess that brings down my day a little. Excellent work there, sir."
Troy entered his login and brought up his usual browser windows.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Whyte. I know you expected this conversation to be over by now. I'm kind of surprised you've been able to get a signal out of Seattle this long. With all the problems everyone's been having today. You might not have noticed, though. I mean, you built them both, right?"
Whyte recalled Helen using those words last night and tried to think what their significance might be.
"I'm afraid you have me at a loss, Mr. Equals."
"Funny you should say that, sir." Troy replied. "Because loss is what it's all about. Loss of signal. Practically nobody's been able to stay on the phone more than a couple of minutes in Seattle all morning. Apparently, it's from all these Whyte brand jammers going off in the city, disrupting the conference, and the lives of everyone within city limits. Not down here in Federal Way, of course. Have you been too busy with your little game with Helen to tune in to non-celebrity gossip news, sir?"
Troy could hear fumbling for something on the other end, followed by the sound of a television switching channels.
"Since they don't really do that 'for those who just tuned in' thing like on TV, I'll save you some time, Mr. Whyte." Troy continued. "There's this crazy hacker group operating out of Eastern Europe, somewhere on the Mediterranean; and they've put out a statement that they're going to be protesting STRANGERS by disrupting communications with roving Whyte cell signal jammers around downtown Seattle. They were very specific about that brand name, sir. You got some good product placement out of it. I think they mentioned Whyte Telecom twelve times, and your own name seven times, as being the ones making it all possible. They're not disrupting emergency or aircraft frequencies, but they've made certain to mention that there's a button for that if they really wanted to."
Troy heard sounds of Whyte sputtering on the other end of the line as he logged into his business pages.
"There's no button like that on my jammers, Mr. Equals."
Like, Comment and Give Rating.
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)