This Is Not a Game Read Online Free PDF

screen and hung her weight on it. The screen rattled down, making a shocking amount of noise, and then hit bottom with a bang.
    The bang echoed up and down the empty street.
    Dagmar had no way of locking the screen, but hoped any rioters wouldn’t look too closely.
    She retreated from the door, bent over the Indonesian kid, and tried to find a pulse in his neck. The heartbeat was strong: it looked as if the boy weren’t about to die anytime soon.
    She saw a corner of her thousand-rupee note peeking out of the kid’s back pocket. She reached for it, then hesitated. Then withdrew her hand.
    The boy had just had his store wrecked. A thousand rupees might keep him alive for the next few weeks.
    She noticed her faux panama on the floor. Someone had stepped on it. She picked up the hat, brushed away the bits of broken glass that clung to it, and put it on her head.
    She moved back into the store and waited for whatever was going to happen next.

CHAPTER THREE
    This Is Not a Cowboy
     
     
     
     
    “Don,” said Austin to his speakerphone, “I think what we should do is follow the strategic plan.”
    Austin listened with half his attention as Don protested this idea. He and his partners were spending a fortune to retrofit an old office building, and they didn’t even own it.
    “What we need,” said Don, “is a building of our own.”
    Pneumatics gave a gentle sigh as Austin leaned back in his office chair and put his feet up on his desk. He had been through this so many times before.
    “Don,” he said, “we have a big performance benchmark coming up. We don’t have time to build you a new headquarters. ”
    “About that benchmark. I’ve got some ideas for new implementations —”
    “No, Don,” said Austin. “Follow the business plan.”
    “Just listen, ” urged Don. “This is great. ”
    He explained his new ideas at length. Austin let his gaze drift to the window. Century City sat in the middle distance below, white modernist perfection above L.A.’s cap of smog. He thought about Jackson Hole and the sight of snowcapped mountains and the smell of pine, and for a moment he wished he were anywhere but here, going through this scenario yet one more time.
    “That’s all good,” Austin said when Don paused for breath, “but we can save all that for Release 2.0. Right now we need to follow the strategic plan. ”
    “But wait!” Don said. “This will make it so much better. It’ll be really cool. ”
    And on and on, for another five minutes or so.
    Austin listened vaguely to the speakerphone and thought about trout fishing. He thought about high mountain streams and wild-flowers and cowgirls in faded Levi’s and flannel shirts and straw cowboy hats.
    On reflection, he changed the fantasy to girls in chaps and fringed vests and hats and nothing else.
    Don went on and on.
    This, Austin thought, was the problem with geniuses. They got bored too easily.
    And most business was boring. You set goals and you worked hard to meet those goals and then you started working on the next set of goals. It was all too plodding for creative types, who came up with half a dozen new ideas every single day and wanted to bring them all into being instantly.
    Don paused to take another breath.
    “Listen,” Austin said. “What’s your job title again?”
    Don paused as his mind shifted tracks.
    “I’m chief technology officer,” he said.
    “Right,” said Austin. “And what’s my job?”
    “I don’t know what your title is.” Don’s voice was suspicious.
    “Never mind my title,” said Austin. “What’s my job? ”
    “You’re VC,” said Don.
    “Right,” said Austin. “I’m venture capital. Which means that I and my associates have invested in dozens of start-ups. Hundreds by now. And that means that we’ve seen a lot of strategic plans, successful and unsuccessful. And so what I am telling you now is that you need to follow the plan to which we all agreed. ”
    He congratulated himself on his sweet