0.0.1

Apr 11, 2015 20:15

210

They said San Francisco became the new New York around 2016. I'm not sure what the turning point was, but I suspect that it was the number of women who moved in from Manhattan. There had always been a few dating startups that had been experimenting with the idea of flying in lonely and beautiful women from Manhattan to meet a few lonely and ugly engineers out west, but then the tipping point came, as Malcolm Gladwell would say, when the pretty blondes outnumbered the nerds at Paper Planes in San Jose.

"That's not what Malcolm Gladwell said," I said to Darren.

"I know," he said, "but I have a tendency to exaggerate. I'm a Business Development Engineer."

"You're in sales."

"Whatever."

We were finishing another bottle of Veuve Clicquot. It was an unpretentious and accessible bottle. The city was changing, but the bottle was a gentle reminder.

"Are we in another bubble?" I asked.

"Possibly," he said, as he sipped his drink, "but what's interesting this time is the opportunity for sectors to cordon off shocks. Micro-bubbles are anti-fragile. The new normal is about constant flash-crashes and modern tulip product bubbles. The system trains itself from crashes. Crashes make the system more resilient."

He had a remarkable tendency to sound eloquent whenever he was drunk. It served us well in the firm. Self-destructive tendencies aside, he was lethal during pitches.

In the fall, the first crash came, and only about 30,000 engineers lost their jobs in the valley; but Darren had just sold an $80M deal before the prick, and it was for another troubled, bloated and fat fortune 500 company.

It would keep us fed during the next three winters.

long fiction, drafts

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