Notes From the Internet Apocalypse Read Online Free PDF

purpose, the way they do when you’re alone or with someone who’s fallen in love with you.
    This was the first time I’d gone to the park without Romaya or failed to visit the Bethesda Fountain, which Romaya called the most romantic place in the world. She made that decision on her own one day, not knowing just how iconic the angel fountain was. It just struck a chord with her.
    “Tobey,” I said, while unscrewing my flask for dramatic emphasis, “we’re not doing this right.”
    “I don’t know. Knees bent, ass planted … I’d say we’re sitting on this bench like champs.”
    Much like a 2:00 A.M. text from a drunken acquaintance, I decided to ignore Tobey’s joke completely.
    “No, I mean, we’re looking for information. But we’re not getting involved enough.”
    “Gladstone, I’m not hitting another Digg or Reddit circle. I can’t take it.”
    “No, we need to go deeper. Not self-styled Internet reporters and editorialists. We need to get behind the scenes. Hackers. What we need is…” I now took the swig of Scotch, really nailing the timing. “4Chan.”
    “You’ve got to be kidding me. You want to seek out a bunch of /b/tard hacking imps? Online, they gave us Rickrolls and LOLcats. Who knows what they’re capable of in real life?”
    “I’m guessing nothing,” I said. “They did that behind the cover of anonymity. In person, I’m guessing we’ll find Ken Kesey’s Merry Pranksters, except inexplicably bitter.”
    “Don’t disrespect the /b/tards,” someone said. And upon closer inspection, that someone appeared to be a woman. And Australian.
    Sitting on the neighboring bench in her boots, torn fishnets, and miniskirt was a living hyperbole of retarded sexuality. The pink streak in her hair, the heavy eye makeup, and the harlequin nails alternating in red and black all reeked of desperate Hot Topic posturing that spoke in equal parts to fourteen-year-old boys and dirty old men.
    I took a moment before speaking, conscious that this was one of those dramatic opening lines that required a clever and witty response.
    “Fuck, you’re hot,” Tobey said.
    “Ignore my friend,” I apologized. “Sometimes he forgets public spaces are different from chat rooms.”
    “I’m familiar with that phenomenon. So, you boys looking for the Internet? Because I could use some help in that area.”
    “We’re all about helping you in your area,” Tobey said.
    “Zing.” She sighed. Tobey tried a new tack.
    “We’re doing some heavy-duty investigative shit,” he said. “We hear someone in New York’s got it.”
    “Yeah, I heard that too.”
    “That rumor’s going around Australia?” I asked.
    “No, I got it from a Reddit circle in Brooklyn.”
    “But then why were you already in New York?”
    “For fuck’s sake. Because it’s New York. You try living in Perth without Internet.”
    Her name was Oz, which was apparently short for Ozzygrrl69. Our newfound friend was twenty-four years old and made her living letting men watch her shower for money. Much like Tobey, the death of the Internet meant the loss of her livelihood, as we learned while exchanging introductions all the way around.
    “So you came to New York to get your job back?” I asked, more than a little incredulous.
    “Well,” she said, “that and I’m looking for a friend.”
    Tobey’s energy was palpable as it surged toward what he thought was an offer of companionship.
    “Not a friend in general, fuckwit,” she snapped before laughing. “God, that would be embarrassing. ‘Uh, hi guys. Will you be my friend? I’m looking for a friend.’”
    Tobey put his energy away.
    “No, I mean, when the Internet went dead, I lost touch with a lot of people I knew.”
    “You’re right,” Tobey said. “Hopping a plane because you have no real-life friends in your home country sounds much less lame.”
    I dissolved the tension with a question. “All your Internet buddies are in New York?”
    “Not all,” Oz said, pulling