“A couple decades?” Kurt squawked. “Jesus Christ, I expect to have a chip in my brain and a jetpack in a couple decades’ time.”
“Which is why you’d be an idiot to get involved with us,” Lyman said.
“Who wants to get involved with you?” Kurt said.
“No one,” Alan said, putting his hands on the table, grateful that the conflict had finally hove above the surface. “That’s not what we’re here for.”
“Why are you here, Alvin?” Lyman said.
“We’re here because we’re going into the moving-data-around trade, in an ambitious way, and because you folks are the most ambitious moving-data-around tradespeople in town. I thought we’d come by and let you know what we’re up to, see if you have any advice for us.”
“Advice, huh?”
“Yeah. You’ve got lots of money and linesmen and switches and users and so forth. You probably have some kind of well-developed cosmology of connectivity, with best practices and philosophical ruminations and tasty metaphors. And I hear that you, personally, are really good at making geeks and telcos play together. Since we’re going to be a kind of telco"—Kurt startled and Alan kicked him under the table—"I thought you could help us get started right.”
“Advice,” Lyman said, drumming his fingers. He stood up and paced.
“One: don’t bother. This is at least two orders of magnitude harder than you think it is. There aren’t enough junk computers in all of Toronto’s landfills to blanket the city in free wireless. The range is nothing but three hundred feet, right? Less if there are trees and buildings, and this city is all trees and buildings.