"Smoking or non?" asked the chipper young waitress.

"Hargreaves," I said wearily.

"Oh, yes sir! Your table's all ready." I followed her to a booth in the diner. I dropped my backpack and my suitcase on the bench on the other side of the table, and threw the laptop down. It crashed and slid and banged into the ketchup.

She looked at that with a twinge of nervousness. "Your order will be right up," she said. "But I'm sorry, we don't serve tapioca."

"Thank GOD. I don't even know where the tapioca thing comes from. I got it in one place, and it looked like an albino vomited in a bowl."

"Umm, okay," she said with the deliberate friendliness of someone who's been told I'm a heavy tipper. "And you asked for juice, but you didn't--"

"Cranberry if you have it, pink grapefruit if you don't, orange if you don't have that." I paused to glare at the laptop. Then I smiled grimly. "Or POISON, if that's on the menu."

She pretended to laugh politely, but the cook yelled "Order up!" and she got my meal. It was a 3-cheese omelet, wheat toast, hot tea, home fries (crispy), and a juice. Cranberry, and thank God, no "small pearl tapioca." Whatever the fuck that is.

I used to like omelets. Eat them every day for 6 months and they lose their panache. But when you haven't eaten since yesterday--exactly yesterday, 24 hours ago, and, no, I have no idea where the 24 hour timing came from either--you'll eat anything. In fact, you'll shovel shit down your throat if it has 3 cheeses on it.

The tea was guaranteed to be too hot, so I gulped a bit of juice, then poured some of the tea into the juice. I used to like tea, too. I dumped the omelet and home fries onto the toast and ate it like a sandwich. Fuck decorum, as I'll be thrown out of here soon. I could hear the diner's phones ringing.

"Sir," said a large man with an apron and a forced grin, "Could you please open your laptop?" With my face full of food, I flipped it open violently. While I chewed, I used my hand to make a phone gesture. "Yes," he said. "The phones in back, they won't stop ringing. Someone keeps calling and asking you to--"

"I KNOW, I KNOW!" I said through omelet. A guy at the counter went to reach for his ringing cell phone. "DON'T ANSWER THAT! Goddamn Simmons!" He stared at me, answered his phone, and said, "Are you David Hargr--"

"YES!" I pounded the wi-fi laptop's keyboard.

STOP IT SIMMONS

Hello, David! How are you today?
Your net worth just increased by $145.95! You sold your TV on eBay!

WELL HOW AWSEOME IS THAT. STOP CALLING PEOPL IN THE DINER

I called you a cab.

On cue, a car horn honked outside the diner.

GODDAMIT I HAVENT BEEN HEAR 5 MINUTES!!!

I paid your diner bill, and left a nice gratuity.
Your net worth just increased by $11,500! Your stock in KFC just sold.

KFC? When the hell did I own stock in greasy fast-food chicken?

HONK.

"Your credit card receipt, sir!" said the waitress cheerily. She must've got a real good tip. I gulped the last of the tea, grabbed my backpack and suitcase, and closed the laptop just as it read Your net worth just declined by $15.95. Reason: Diner bill.

I said to the cab driver, "I'm David M. Hargreaves. Where am I going?" The driver seemed puzzled by the question, but answered in a thick Indian accent "The airport."

"CHRIST! The airport! I just CAME from the airport!" I dropped my luggage on the back seat, and flung the laptop against the far door. It bounced to the cab's floor.

"Sir!" cried the waitress, running from the diner. "Here's your change! Your ATM just went through!" She held a few bills and some coins. "Give it to the driver," I grunted.

He counted the money. "This is very strange! Exact fare to airport, plus ten dollars!"

"Yeah. I'm a heavy tipper."

We pulled up to the airport and I grabbed my things. "Sir! Don't forget your laptop!"

"Yes. Laptop. How could I forget the laptop." I took it and tossed it to the pavement. "Oops. Clumsy."

I walked into the concourse and there was a girl holding a sign that said HARGREAVES. Standing next to her were three men holding signs that said HARGREAVES.
I groaned. I waved my arm and mumbled "David M. Hargreaves."

They glanced at each other in confusion. I looked to the girl. She was chipper and blonde, just like the waitress. Christ, is Simmons hiring them by phenotype now? "Where am I going?"

"London?" she asked in return.

"Where am I going?" I asked the short Hispanic man. "Atlanta. Is there more than one David Hargreaves?"

"No. Sadly, no. You?" I asked the young white guy with the tattoos and shaved head. "Moscow."

"Moscow?! The hell?!" I turned to the tall elderly black man. "The airport bar and grill," he said.

"Good. I could use a drink. Even if it's a Tanqueray and tonic again."

Four cell phones rang, and they all lowered their signs in unison to answer. "Hello?" they chorused. "Oh...okay!" They hung up, and three of them walked away. The elderly man said, "You have a flight to Cleveland leaving in 40 minutes. On United. Gate A."

"Cleveland. Okay. Where's the bar?" He pointed to it.

"What can I get you?" asked the bartender.

"I'm David M. Hargreaves."

"What? Oh, yeah! You ordered the--"

"Chicken salad on wheat, Tanqueray and tonic."

"Yeah! Sandwich'll be right up. Sorry, but we don't have tapioca. I don't even know what that is."

"It's like spackle in a cup."

The bar's phone rang. The pay phone rang. Every cell phone on every person in the bar rang. I yanked the laptop open, and every phone stopped ringing. Goddamn Simmons.

CLEVELAND???

I won you free tickets to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame!

I stared at the screen for a second. Then I realized that this was my fault. I'd told Simmons that I'd wanted to go there some day. Back when all this started.

I HAVENT SLEPT IN ABOUT 20 HOURS AND I CANT SLEEP ON A PLABE!!

I assume you mean "plane."

The bartender placed my drink in front of me, and I took a gulp. "Whoa," I gasped, "That's strong."

"I thought you wanted it strong."

WHYS MY DRINK SO STRONG

To help you sleep on the plane.
Your net worth just increased by $175, 935! I sold your house and all its remaining furnishings!

I calmly closed the laptop and placed it on the floor. The I picked up a metal barstool. "NO, YOU SLEEP! BASTARD!!" I screamed as I smashed the laptop to pieces. "SLEEP WITH THE FUCKING FISHES!"

I swept up the remains. "Got a garbage?" I asked the bartender. But he was already on the phone. In seconds, two airport security men and a National Guardsman rushed into the bar. I swallowed the drink and held my hands out to be cuffed. And then three walkie talkies crackled. They each talked into them, looked surprised, then walked away.

Goddamn Simmons. Can't even get arrested in an airport with him around.

The bar's phone rang. The bartender said "It's for you."

"Hello, Simmons."

His voice was silky, smooth and cheerful. "It seems that there's been a catastrophic failure of your laptop! Don't worry, a new one will be waiting for you at the Cleveland airport!"

"Thank you, Simmons."

And Simmons was right. A double Tanqueray put me straight to sleep. The stewardess had to prod me awake when we landed in Cleveland.

There were two men holding HARGREAVES signs. One was a UPS guy. I signed for the package. The other told me that I was to board a shuttle bus for the Rock and Roll Museum in an hour.

I slumped in a chair and wearily opened the UPS box. Brand new, charged up, ready to go, a laptop.

The young guy next to me had black plastic framed glasses, a goatee and his own laptop. He watched me with interest.

Hello, David! said the screen. Welcome to Cleveland!

"Excuse me," asked the young man. "Is that...Simmons?"

I rubbed my unshaven face and my baggy eyes. "Yep. Simmons, albatross, whatever."

"Cool! I read a Wired article on that program! Does it really manage your whole life?"

"Micromanages."

"That thing's amazing! Set your preferences, and it knows exactly what you want to do, where you want to go, even what you like to eat! Wired said that it increased this one guy's net worth by millions in only a few months! It sold off all the useless stuff he owned on eBay and invested it in the stock market!"

"Yeah, I read that article. His name was Hargreaves or something."

"That guy's set for life because of that program!"

I looked at him with bloodshot eyes. "The beta version," I sneered, "has a few bugs."

"Dude, I can't wait until they release Simmons commercially! It's the first thing I'm gonna buy!"

This ends your beta test period. Your final net worth: $11,288,019.05. Goodbye, David!

The screen went blank. I stared at it. I tapped the side of the laptop, as if that would bring Simmons back. I nervously glanced around the airport, expecting phones to ring. But none did.

"DUDE!" yelled the kid, and I jumped. "You'll never guess what program is downloading itself onto my laptop! This is AWESOME!"

I rebooted the laptop. The Simmons icon was gone. I was worth $11M, but everything I owned was in a suitcase and a backpack. I needed to log onto eBay and buy a house and a car, quick. But first I needed a shower.

Every phone in the airport began to ring.

"It's for you," I said to the kid, and walked away laughing.