The networking book is heavy in command line stuff, which I’m not going to read. Here’s another chunk of the fiction project.
The driver had a postgraduate degree in Not Being Noticed. The black suit and tie oozed boredom. His smoothly-shaved face lacked a big nose, round lips, a jutting chin, or any other distinguishing trait. His freshly trimmed black hair was combed to perfection, his tie snug despite the heat. Heavy black sunglasses protected his eyes from the scorching light. If he’d been standing anywhere else you’d think bank clerk or accountant. Something to do with money, but not exciting amounts of money.
Technically, he did have something to do with money. The stability of money. Business thrives with stable conditions and currency, and the United States is nothing if not business-friendly. The Federal Reserve has twelve banks. The man was an agent for the thirteenth. Within the Reserve it had been called Bureau 13, but then cult role-playing game designer Richard Tucholka had not only used that for a title but had stumbled suspiciously close to the truth. Investigations showed that there was no leak, the man was simply the wrong kind of clever.
I knew Richard in university. He taught me the reality of living as punk/indie creator. I can guarantee that he’d be delighted if the government declared an official Tucholka Debacle.