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

Not the choice of the elite, but sometimes a perfectly chilled mediocre beer is the finest beverage there is.
    “Tell me, Gladstone. Do you visit our site often?”
    “I think I can honestly say I’ve never been to your site. All my information is secondhand. The memes you’ve popularized. Your association with Anonymous. Your hatred of Scientology. Your alleged electronic haven for pedophiles…”
    I could see his eyes tighten even through the mask. “Lies. 4Chan is a democratic nation. Think about it, Gladstone. What’s the oldest trick for discrediting enemies? Kiddie porn. Sexual deviance. Those slanders are perpetuated by those who would marginalize us. But we are not the monsters the media has created.”
    Suddenly, a noise came from the closet in the corner of the room. He raised a finger to his Guy Fawkes lips. “Could be a raid,” he whispered, and headed for the closet door. He slowly turned the handle and, in one sudden and disquieting motion, a naked fat man wearing a cheap Nixon mask fell wanking to the floor, hentai porn prints crumpled in his sticky hands.
    “Glendoria4! How many times? This room is off-limits! Get out!”
    The man stumbled to his feet, bowing and backing out of the room at the same time. “Sorry. So sorry, sir.”
    The robed man shut the closet door, keeping his back to me for an extra moment. Even through the heavy drape of his velvet, I could tell he was taking a deep quick breath to gather himself, before doing a quick military turn and settling back into comfort.
    “I apologize for that disturbance.”
    “Not at all. I believe you were explaining how 4Chan isn’t just a bunch of sexual deviants.…”
    “I may have misspoken. But 4Chan has an open door. You have to let everyone in if you want to create a home for expert hackers, government informants, CEOs with predilections for sodomizing squid. It doesn’t matter. We cast a wide net and some of the best and brightest call us home.”
    “And why do you guys have nicknames? I thought the /b/forums were anonymous.”
    “Yes, but real life changes things,” he said. “We still keep real identities secret, but look around, you can’t hang around a place like this and just keep addressing people as ‘you’ and ‘that guy.’”
    He returned to his seat and crossed his legs beneath the robe. “Now, let’s return to your questions.”
    I killed my beer. He handed me another.
    “These intercepted signals,” I said. “Where are they coming from? Can’t you trace the source and get this thing going?”
    “We don’t know that yet. All we know is that it’s coming from far downtown or maybe Staten Island. Do with that information what you will.”
    He stood up from the couch.
    “Do you have to go?” I asked. “Won’t you join me in a drink?”
    “I would,” he said, “but I’m not much for drinking alcohol through a straw.” He pointed to the tiny hole in the mouth of his mask.
    “Well, then take it off. It would certainly help gain my trust.”
    “No, Mr. Gladstone. In the age of hyper technology and cookie crumbs, you can only trust a man in a mask. Everyone else has too much to lose.”
    “I’m not wearing a mask,” I offered.
    He shrugged in silence. Something prevented him from saying more. Then he gestured for me to leave.
    “Wait—before I go. Why are you telling me all this? I thought that was, like, one of the rules or something. Don’t talk about the /b/forums.”
    “First of all, that’s just during raids, and second of all, the only people who get all butthurt about mentioning the /b/forums are newfags.”
    I’m sure I looked visibly uncomfortable.
    “Oh, I forgot,” he said. “You went to college in the nineties. Don’t take offense. These are just words for the masses. Not even. It’s the Internet-speak we aquire. In any event, I’m telling you this because you asked for help. And I trust you.”
    “Because I have nothing left to lose?”
    “Godspeed, Gladstone.”
    I headed