Notes From the Internet Apocalypse by Wayne Gladstone Read Free Book Online

stood on my chair.
    “Attention all 4Chan douchebags!”
    The room fell silent, some with surprise, others quieted by their instant calculations of how best to hurt and humiliate me. I did not pause longer than I needed to. This was the Internet. Unless I fell off the chair and made grape-stomping lady gurgling sounds, their attention wouldn’t last much longer.
    “What happened to you?” I asked. “Yes, you. You were the agent provocateur of the Internet. The best and the brightest. True, some of you were functionally retarded and/or pedophiles, but think of all you’ve achieved. Internet meme after Internet meme. Legendary practical jokes and Anonymous’s hacking abilities. Attacks on Corporate America and Scientology. The beating you gave to HBGary. A force to be reckoned with. A defense against government abuse. And that’s not just me saying that. Didn’t Christopher Hitchens call the 4Chan community lunatic and juvenile, but also alarming and brilliant?”
    “No,” someone shouted from the back. “We just said he did on our Wikipedia page.”
    “Well, that’s still something,” I said. “Look, I can’t bear to see you reduced to this. Juvenile gags and practical jokes.”
    Now I had them. I could even afford to take a dramatic pause, and I did. And even though someone made a fart noise under their armpit, they were all still listening.
    “My name’s Gladstone. I’m looking for the Internet. Will you help me?”
    The one who’d stolen my clothes jumped to the middle of the stage, mocking, “Ooh, look at me! I’m Gladstone and I’m looking for the Internet!”
    Suddenly a loud full voice came from behind the stage curtain: “Silence, Sergeant Turd!” The curtain parted, revealing a man at stage right with a long velvet robe and a Guy Fawkes mask fancier than the others. All he had to do was hold out his arm, and the other 4Chan member quickly turned over my hat and coat. He was clearly /b/tard royalty.
    “You raise a fair point, Gladstone. The Internet Apocalypse has been hard on 4Chan, depriving us of what we do best. But even now, we are not without our power and influence. And who are you to be so arrogant and stiff-necked before us? Personally, I thought those three McSweeney’s lists of yours were a little too on the nose.”
    “You read those?”
    “The Internet has put forth neither text nor image unseen by me.”
    “Forgive me, sir,” I said. “I meant no disrespect. Can you help me? Are the rumors true?”
    “Gladstone, I’d like you to come with me.”
    I stared down at Tobey and Oz.
    “Are you coming, Mr. Gladstone?”
    “Just me?”
    “Who else?” he said, and disappeared backstage.
    “Follow him,” Oz said.
    Tobey agreed. “Yeah, but watch your cornhole, bro.”
    I followed the robed figure into what I guess amounted to the club’s green room. My eyes settled on the crumbs in the corner, moved by a quiet disappointment. I’m not sure why I was expecting a worldly study of leather-bound books, especially considering 4Chan just rented this place once a week. Nevertheless, the man sat on the unspeakably stained couch with such solemn dignity and offered me a folding chair so graciously it almost made up for the surroundings. I put my hat and jacket back on before sitting. I didn’t want to be the only one without a disguise.
    “You have some questions for me, Gladstone?”
    “Are these rumors about intercepted Internet communications and terrorist threats true?”
    “We believe they are,” he said. “We have detected similar activity.”
    “Doesn’t that mean you have Internet?”
    “No, but we have the ability to detect a Wi-Fi signal and other markers. Doesn’t mean we can get online.”
    “Doesn’t it? I’m sorry, I was an English major.…”
    “Then stop asking computer science questions. What do you really want to know?”
    He leaned over to the side of the couch and, to temper his severity, handed me one of several Buds chilling in a bucket of ice.