So I was in the bathroom (I know, right?). I was in the bathroom which happens to be on the fourth floor of C7, which itself is in Intel’s Chandler campus, in Arizona, in the United States, in-you know-the world. I couldn’t help myself, but all I could manage to do on this very ordinary day at my very boring nine-to-five was stare at this small, ridiculously infuriating sign on the bathroom door. In typical monospace font (typical as in green-on-black-terminal-window-for-computer-geeks, -as-seen-in-The-Matrix, -but-that’s-certainly-not-what-we’re-about-here-at-Intel, kind of typical) was a train wreck of sign-making: “If you were not completely delighted by your experience using this restroom, please contact Intel Maintenance immediately. Have a nice day!” This isn’t a dig on the quality of the facilities at my place of employment, but I felt I needed my cell phone, and I needed it immediately! I thought about it a little more (and this is where I got stuck looking at the door in the bathroom) and although I had been implored to call (and there was a measure of urgency there), I didn’t really want to take out my harsh feelings on anyone as poor or unsuspecting as human resources, or even Intel Maintenance for that matter. No one deserves that kind of punishment, no; the truth of the matter is only that I honestly don’t believe I have ever been delighted by any bathroom experience ever, anywhere, in my entire life. I think Intel has set unacceptably high expectations for itself in this case. And that’s pretty much how things go here.
I am on my second month here, and I’ve got some mixed feelings. People work very hard, to be sure, but not in the way you expect them to. My group, PCS (Protected Content Services) is half located in Washington, half located here, and has a smattering of folks over in Russia, you know, that other controlled country over there. Aside from the issues with sharing server access with another entity across the pond, we also have to work time issues, because strangely, it’s a different time in different places everywhere. Everyone gets their work done; people don’t even know how to ask if it is done, it just is, but some people go about it differently. Some finish it right off nice and square, but others spend months sleeping just to finish it in a flurry in a single day’s work, which is really through the course of two physical earth days. I’m having some trouble adjusting to this kind of flexibility, mostly because I still feel so inflexible and new here, but also because everyone trusts me with everything. It’s assumed my work is done and brilliant. It is, and that’s what scares me.
PCS is currently working on CSS and BluRay. This kind of burns me; these are two of my least favorite things in the entire world. Encrypting a high definition film is like killing puppies- it’s morally unacceptable and people just don’t do it. The sad part, though, is that Intel is doing it, for in doing the devil’s work, there’s a lot of money. Hell, with what I’m making now, with just a high school diploma and a few degrees on the way, they’ve sure convinced me! I’d like to say that’s not the only reason I’m here, but it is. It’s nice not to worry about money. Here’s to grossly overpaid, marginally skilled white guys! The truth aside, I’ve been learning a lot. The project I’m working on is another DRM (Digital Rights Management) system aimed at just about everything under the sun. I can issue content protection keys and certificates to just about anything, even the picture on your desktop of you, your grandmother, and at the baby puppy you found on the side of the road. The system is written in C and uses ungodly amounts of XML to serialize and pass data from here to there. I’ve really had to kick my mind to work in C to perform, what is in my mind a very high level activity, XML parsing against bare metal. It was rough at first, but I’ve cleaned up my act, read books, and done an internet course.
Working on my project has granted me access to Intel’s excellent C/C++ compiler, which is an order of magnitude better than MSVC/C++, and so makes me feel so much more like a secret agent than using GCC/G++. It has also set some new lights on fire for me. Google has a model for work that allows its employees to use 20% of their time working on whatever they like. Somewhat under the hood, I’ve adopted this idea, and a large amount of my time has been devoted to compiler research. It’s a large topic, but one that is closely interwoven with my interest in computational linguistics. I’ve looked at everything from Lua to Ruby, to C and Fortran and it’s all quite fascinating. In my free time, I’ve begun development of new language, which I’ve named Casper, as an education in compiler technology and VM design. Right now, the compiler can target LLVM and execute its IR on bare metal, or the JVM (Java Virtual Machine), an excellently quick and safe environment. I’ve learned tons, and I have fun doing it, while getting paid. So when I’m not looking at the sign or writing C XML parsers, this is what I do.
It’s not all shits and giggles, though. I find I don’t have enough time in the day to do the things I like to do best, i.e. nothing but lounging, reading, and sleeping. Working at a desk all day long is boring, and I don’t think I’d like to be doing this for a lifetime, but as a temporary 20-year stint to earn that BMW M3, it might be doable. I guess it’s a good thing I’m finding these things out now. I went bowling with the SSG department yesterday, and while it was a bit like hanging out with my parents and their old yet still really lame friends (some old people, on the other hand, have a great history to share), I did have some fun. I bowled well, and watched helplessly as my insanely happy and thoroughly kind boss was hit on by an overweight creeper dressed in a brown polo (just like mine, actually) a few sizes too small. That was a laugh. Apparently we laughed too much, because people kept giving us extra drink coupons and I kept getting egged on to go get another beer, even though my first one was a strong glass of water.
There are other things that make me happy here, too. I have access to the largest server farm I have ever laid eyes on to compile anything I wish. It’s decidedly beautiful. I also get to say hello to the security guard every day and I never get stopped because I, unlike the lady in front of me, who drove that ugly Mercedes, insists on wasting air condition by using the sliding doors, and has fake blonde hair, have my very own Intel badge. On the other hand, I hate taking the elevator only to stop of every single floor on the way up. I was also sick of people talking to me in that small, bright room. If you’ve ever noticed the way those things work, with the floor moving away from your feet, you might not be inclined to have conversation with anyone, just saying. I’m much healthier now that I’ve started to take the stairs. No day, however, is complete without that delightful sign in the bathroom. Today was no different until someone walked in on their cell phone to use the facilities– they never hung up. I better get back to work. I have so much I can do, so many projects and possibilities, and actually, hopes. First thing’s first, though, but not necessarily in that order.
I don’t know if you can still hear me, or even if you’re there. I just wanted to let you know that you still matter to me, and it’s freaking me out. Of all the people I don’t talk to anymore, it’s you I miss the most. That may or may not be saying much, because I really don’t miss anyone. That’s a lie; I’d give anything to go with you on this trip instead. I am Jack’s lie.
I don’t really remember a lot of what happened. I remember you were upset, and then I was. I remember I didn’t write, but eventually you did. I remember how pretty you were, and how your writing never looked like you. I remember the way you wrote my name, or just the M. I remember you wrote love at the close of each letter. I remember your pain and I’ll never know if it ended. I haven’t given anyone my loyalty or feelings in a long time in the way your one letter still rips from me. I miss you.
“And sometimes, sometimes I don’t feel alone. Maybe those moments are the only ones worth remembering. Just maybe.”
You might think that I chose my second theme, the importance of imagination, because of the part it played in rebuilding my life, but that is not wholly so. Though I will defend the value of bedtime stories to my last gasp, I have learned to value imagination in a much broader sense. Imagination is not only the uniquely human capacity to envision that which is not, and therefore the fount of all invention and innovation. In its arguably most transformative and revelatory capacity, it is the power that enables us to empathise with humans whose experiences we have never shared.