I read the brochure on the counter. A comical coffee tasting diagram. "This is so funny," I was laughing that day. Jacob picked up the brochure and looked it over. "I'm afraid they aren't being ironic." I didn’t comment. I refocused on the step by step brochure. At the very least I could apply it to MCAT studies in the “behavioral sciences on your own” section. I didn’t want to re-remember the facts. If I watched it again 1000 more times it wouldn't hurt; Silence of the Lambs was featured full spectrum. I had a few more facts to check. I wasn't going to actually watch the whole thing anyway. The film was made in 1991 when I was working at AMOK. Brian and Stuart had taken me to the UCLA biomed library for the first time. Brian was publishing a compilation of artworks by murderers and he was excited about the forthcoming movie release, the Silence of the Lambs. After he saw it he had given it horrible reviews. "I can't believe they played Savage Republic," were his final words on the matter. 

Savage Republic was another local middleman and did the soundtrack for the movie apparently. Jeremy would later be groomed out of the Circus Circus food court and go on to perfect the role and the soundtrack. "Someone needs to make the Jeremy Renner story," I thought. "At least a made for TV movie."  

My expectations as a new camera operator at the Greater Nevada Field remained low. “Did you honestly think that you wouldn't at the very least get hazed by the minor leagues,"  I stood close to Jacob (now Jake). The games were a lot longer than I had realized and the weather was brutal. It seemed like a gen AI venue and all of the baseball players looked alike. 

One clinic to another. The Bureau of Alcohol and Tobacco actually. I looked out to St. Mary's and knew exactly what Jack Crawford meant long after Brian's terrible critique of the film due to its inauthenticity. My first realization was on the campus of the University of Southern California. Our professor turned in my direction and from a distance I could see the similarities to my inner circle. "They are all the same," David something or other? Grace had a thing for him. I began to break down. "They can't all be the same."  Early symptoms of generative AI or a media ecosystem. 

 "Who's making these films?" Supposedly AI. But I had to let new content in. I couldn't keep everything on rewind. Today's feature covered the basics. Use of memory wasn't my idea. However, personalization was a feature. My narrative had started out like an HBO throwback but ended in an FCC regulation checkup. 

The framework had so many spins there were opportunities in every county. The singleness of purpose I had overlooked. But the desire to delude the self was the actual "glue" that made the ideology sale a black Friday special event. The scam depended on self-delusion.  

The guy standing in line in front of me at the Grocery Outlet had a sizable purchase and a bottle of Jameson. His gold watch glimmered under the outlet lights and I could actually see the Nugget Casino though the top of the glass windows. I immediately began to fantasize. His house, our house, it was an amazing sales tactic. He looked like Jake. Jake who was at the Peppermill playing poker every night after working all day as the quality control supervisor at the startup. Now he was for sale in line at the Grocery Outlet. He was for sale, I was for sale. We were for sale. That was the mantra for generative AI. The self and the other. But more than fantasy was for sale in line. An unreasonable concept of wishful thinking persisted. 

The Jameson order was taking longer than I expected. I scrolled my newsfeed.

"Vigilantism cannot be allowed in our society," a reporter responded regarding the possibility of going back to Court TV a third time.  It read as a type of instruction manual for pipeline maintenance.

I had identified specific computer matching key terms that aligned with the mix and match New York Times collection. I incorporated Court TV and a lucky break. Page 19 could easily walk a newcomer through the perplexing riddle of their life. Why they couldn't make it in Hollywood? “Pipeline or more specifically "wastepipe,” I thought. 

An understanding of the pipeline had been established however, I believed its expansion was the result of technology. Based on my comprehension of the region the Reno Diagnostic Center kept a close watch on any and all pipeline assets. Not such a dramatic departure from New York City. But more space and hiding places. Diagnosed and cranked cross-platform on news reels. Blasted out onto broadband and echoed throughout. The infrastructure had deteriorated rapidly. And I had finally concluded my purchase. 

“There was nothing separating one from the critically ill.” That was the president's analysis. The commander-in-chief," I thought. "He shut it down." There was an unshakable belief among the population that they could read minds. "Is that where ESPN got their name?" I couldn't help but wonder. It was a sport. Everyone was against something and supporting nothing; childlike. Online platforms were simply more presentation venues for TikTok tricks. Social Media Photography, I hadn’t forgotten but might as well have. A critique of the arts the way the pipeline had intended; for traffic plus culture research–cancer. 

This collective illness the president had mentioned was cited on every report. I scrolled ESPN. “These are very sick people," he said it again. I counted the number of times as I transcribed the playback.

I originally thought I could use it for the RSJ now it was becoming something more. “They do believe they can read minds,” I assessed the reliability of the president's remarks. They were conmen and micromanagers. Personal computers. Middlemen. A journalist had finally concluded the query. Too sweet for social media and off I drove. 

What the president said appeared to be true. Even still I cherished the memory of the cool evenings cruising the streets of Palo Alto finally free of New York City. “A cheesy pipeline that didn't permit reading or writing,” I thought dramatically, reliving what MIT Press had revealed that day. Even so I let Jake inherit the fruit basket. I saved the color-test prints from the printer at the startup. It spit them out every time they changed an ink cartridge. And they were actually quite good. They now sat in my kitchen. Not yet framed. “May I have these?” I asked earlier that day. I thought I had seen a 12-gauge or something Columbine-like in the storage room where Jake changed into a white labcoat. He was from Las Vegas and had an insider's knowledge of the Nevada terrain.  We discussed the Orleans Casino in Las Vegas. I remember being intrigued by it. I went back several times and didn’t quite get the fascination until Trevor did a final moon shot from the warehouse. Trever was the shipping manager at the startup and claimed that his roommate was a member of Mensa. 

Jake’s statement about the absence of irony only meant more irrational dots that could potentially be connected. Even still, any attention off of the pipeline was Redbox squandered on Bruno Mars or “Michael Jackson ONE” at Mandalay Bay. I tried to stay focused on the things that really mattered.

Robert Downey Jr. was sure to win the Oscar for Oppenheimer. He was clearly a tunnel converter. And everpresent on the news feed. Jeremy wasn't far behind in algorithms, (courtesy of the diagnostic center which had made a small industry out of his regional history), they all sucked the life out of the shady operations at the startup that day. Oscar night was every night in Reno and the celebrities took center stage without question. I reminded myself that it had presented numerous times over the course of the year. There certainly was a need to present on behalf of justice and diagnostics. I agreed with the president and had a theory as to why.