The Last Network - Chapter 15
Tech Beat LA
Rabbit scanned the lobby full of laminated badges, plastic smiles, and overpriced suits. At this point, he could navigate it on autopilot. Eye contact, firm handshakes, and promises of drinks later. He made his way to registration, and stepped into the line labeled T-Z.
“Rabbit Wilson.” He passed a card across the counter. Behind it, a kid wore the cheap and cheery mask of the service industry. He probably drove for Uber this morning, clocked into the event, and then would cater waiter an afterparty. Rabbit heard that a lot of the staff do it that way. Three day shows, eighteen-hour days, nothing but hustle. He looked at the kid a little more closely; he was late twenties, maybe early thirties. Hardly a kid. In the old days, he’d be running a team somewhere. Software had eaten his future.
“Here you are, Mr. Wilson.”
“Gold? I’m not speaking or an organizer.”
“It’s Tech Beat’s way of saying thanks for ten years.”
Ten fucking years of this? Rabbit shook his head and walked away. He skipped the swag line. Now that his nieces and nephews were older, none of them wanted branded backpacks and light up keychains. What used to be cool was now gauche. He understood. He used to find this cool too.
He thought about his brother up in Hibbing. Stephen had quit his job, put on ten pounds and quickly settled into the comfortable life of early retirement. While Rabbit was running circles around LA trying to prove them all wrong, Stevie was building his cabin and hunting for an old wooden motorboat to restore. A part of Rabbit envied his brother’s lack of drive, his contentment with a life well lived. Rabbit wasn’t wired that way; he’d always been hungry. His outsized appetite put him on the outside more often than not, but there was nothing he could do about it. We are who we are. Just as Bear needed to disappear into himself, Rabbit needed to prove himself above everyone who had cast him aside.
Rabbit had only one reason for being here, to let everyone know that he was still standing. It had been a year since he walked out on Smash House, and Peared still had a long way to go. While the town was largely behind Ka$ia, he still had friends in the business. He had plenty of enemies too. No matter which side people stood on, they needed to see that Rabbit was making moves and that the best was yet to come.
He checked the speaker list; mercifully, Ka$ia was not on it. He assumed the organizers had tired of hearing the same story. She’d never turn this gig down. Scanning the lineup, he ran across a familiar name, Frank Meyers. They had bumped into each other over the years—the first few times were beyond awkward, but it had gotten to the point where neither talked about what had happened.
Rabbit made a note to find him later. First, it would be good to be seen chatting with Frank in public. People would notice that water was under that bridge. Second, he wanted to see if Frank had knives out for him. Someone had spiked that PR blitz, and he still needed a scalp.
“Rabbit, can I catch you for a moment?” Walt Jacobsen waddled on over to him.
Walt was a pioneer in the world of visual effects. The man invented CGI dinosaurs. Over the years he burnt out on movie making and fell in with the local tech community. The Tech Beat show was his baby.
“Walt buddy, good to see you.”
“You too Rabbit. I was wondering if you could do me a favor. We had someone drop out of our 11 o’clock roundtable. Could an old hand like yourself take the seat?”
“What’s the topic?”
“Trends for 2025. Should be an easy one. I’ve got a cheat sheet prepped.”
“You can count on me, Walt. Do me a favor though, remember this next year. I want that keynote.”
“You’ll need to have quite the year to make keynote, but I’ll definitely slot you as a speaker. Thanks buddy.”
“Sure, pal.”
Rabbit sat in the back of a darkened hall working his iPhone. He tried to tune the conference blather out. The last two kids on stage had trotted out the same tired tropes of disruption and transformation. The first was a vending machine company, the second was pitching a desktop yogurt maker. A desktop fucking yogurt maker.
Tech Beat LA was as much a debutante ball as it was a trade show. The sons and daughters of wealthy Angelenos were shipped up to Stanford, spent a couple years working in the Valley and then came back here to be crowned as future titans of industry.
Walt’s email came in with the cheat sheet, room, and participant list. He was in the big room and Frank Meyers was on the panel. Well, look at that. Either the fates had ordained this, or Walt was a lot craftier than he let on. Rabbit got up and left the hall. He had an hour to get his shit together.
At 10:45 he walked into the green room. It was a four-person panel. He saw Debbie Lau working her phone and gave her a nod. Trish Haverstrom had not arrived yet. That left Frank sitting in a corner eating an everything bagel slathered in a pink schmear. He had sharpened up his glasses. Rabbit guessed those frames cost three grand. That stupid goatee was still there, though. Rabbit never had to worry about thinning hair, but if he had, he wouldn’t compensate by hanging a bunch of it off his mouth.
“Had I known,” Rabbit said sitting opposite him.
“You still would have done it,” Frank finished.
“I would, but I would have checked with you first. Walt didn’t give me the lineup until afterwards.”
“Walt’s an ass that way. He’s looking for fireworks. Just so you know, it wasn’t me. I didn’t spike your launch.”
“I never suspected.”
“Don’t play dumb. Em and I have mutual friends. She called me the day after launch, bullshit to the moon. Whatever history we have, I’d never cross her. I might need her someday. That’s the thing about this town. It’s all the same people, Rabbit. You never realized that. It’s why your circle keeps getting smaller, and mine keeps growing. Had you made friends, treated people a certain way, they’d be here for you now when you need it most. Instead, you are out in the wilderness, hiding in Kendra’s shadows and running black ops out of NAM. That’s a long way from home Rabbit, a long way. Anyway, no hard feelings. I don’t want fireworks. Let’s get up there, play nice, and hug it out on stage.”
“Hug it out?” Rabbit stared across at Frank. He tried to look him in the eye, but the crumbs in his goatee were just too much.
“Anger burns hot, but quick. Forgiveness I’ve come to find, is a deeper, more sustaining energy.”
Frank Meyers had gone new age. Rabbit would have to find out the name of his guru and send him a Christmas card.
While he wasn’t one to let a smug lecture go unanswered, it seemed a fair trade, all things considered. Hug it out, show everyone there was no hard feelings. There were a million different ways this could have gone. This was easily the best. Besides, he was in a giving mood. Paolo was reporting success with some of his early tests.