And maybe that’s how he wanted it. It seemed so in his final address at The Hash Tag. I was there, and although he didn’t know, I took a handful of those paper do-it-yourself memes featuring blank lines and a WiFi symbol wearing an M-shaped fedora. And now they’re everywhere. Left behind in coffee shops and train stations. Spray-painted on walls. No one in the real world is calling for the Messiah’s freedom or prosecution. Instead, they’re talking about the Internet as simply as they can. Spreading the message without the help of fiber optic cable. There are sweet memes like “The Internet is … an e-mail from my boyfriend overseas.” There are practical ones like “The Internet is … seeing my children on camera while I’m away.” And then, of course, there are the political ones like “The Internet is … sharing information regarding our oppression.”
But the best one I saw had been spray painted in black on the wall outside the L.A. Veterans Affairs building where we’d been holding Gladstone. It popped up the day I was told my services were no longer needed, and seeing it helped just a little because as I walked away, the building’s tall white walls now read in fifteen-foot letters:
The Internet is …
People. And We’re Still Here.
I’m going to find Gladstone and tell him about that. I hope it brings some comfort, but I’m not looking to heal him. I need his cuts and bruises. I need to examine the body. Before I was terminated, I got a chance to speak with Tobey, who was being held as a person of interest and domestic-terror suspect. I asked him if he thought I’d find Gladstone alive. He wasn’t feeling talkative, still in that stage of capture where you resent your coconspirators even when insisting there’s no conspiracy. He did say, however, that dying wasn’t an option for Gladstone, because then he’d have to stop whining.
I’m counting on that, on his capacity for pain. Because each blow I study will tell me something more about what we’re up against. I know Gladstone saw his wife die in front of him, but he saw something even more than that to send him running. Worse than running—hiding. This is no subway escape to a drunken weekend. He’s seen something dark enough to keep him hidden. And I want to see the burns so I recognize that branding iron and the men who carry it when they come for me.
Maybe we’ll find the Net, but first I’m going to do what I do. I’m going to find my man. I’ve already done what any investigator would do: checked the airports, the bank accounts and transactions. I found the withdrawn money and the plane ticket purchased in cash. And then I did something else, on a whim. I checked the airport’s lost and found. Several. There’s not just one. And do you know what I found? His grandfather’s fedora, thrashed and bloodstained. I had it cleaned up for him. They did what they could. It helped a bit. It will be nice to bring him something other than my microscope for his pain. And in the meantime, I’m wearing it. I hope it brings me luck.
According to the label, the hat is from New York, and so am I. As I sit here and look out my window, I think about how we’d both like to go home, and someday I hope we will. Gladstone too. But there’s still work to do and New York is not where this plane is headed.
Acknowledgments
This novel exists because my editor, Peter Joseph, had faith in it before it was even written. And it exists in its current form because he allowed me the time and freedom to keep working until it was the book I wanted it to be. Of course my agent, Lauren Abramo, also ensured its creation by believing in Book One of this trilogy, and getting it published in the first place before continuing on as my personal sherpa through the labyrinth of publishing and neurosis.
Thank you to everyone who was good enough to buy Notes from the Internet Apocalypse. That tangible level of interest was tremendously encouraging as I worked to deliver this novel. And while we’re discussing Book One, thank you to Liz Coleman for supporting that project so fiercely and teaching me how speak Australian.
This book was also made possible by Carl, Amy Jo, Ruari, Evi, and everyone at The Growler who kept me in Jamesons and fried pickles during its final stages. Thank you also to all the early readers of this book for their time and input. It is greatly appreciated. And thank you to Randall Maynard for all the art and kindness he has given me.
Lastly, I need to thank Maura Chwastyk. Unlike Book One, Agents of the Internet Apocalypse is an L.A. story. While I have been to Los Angeles on several occasions, and the story is meant to be told from the perspective of a visitor, countless times during the writing of this book, I still needed inside information. Something beyond a traveler’s impressions or the details of an Internet search. I needed someone to help me see. Someone not only to hold up an L.A. scene, but to focus on the same details I would, if my eyes were fixed on that setting. I was very lucky to meet Maura, a Los Angeles expatriate, during the writing of this book. She was an invaluable resource, delivering such carefully observed details that it became my job as writer not to destroy the inherent magic of her impressions as I pulled them from her e-mails and fastened them to the page.
About the Author
WAYNE GLADSTONE is a longtime columnist for Cracked.com and the author of Notes from the Internet Apocalypse. He is the creator and star of the Hate by Numbers online video series. His writing has appeared on McSweeney’s Internet Tendency, Comedy Central’s Indecision, and in the collections You Might Be a Zombie and Other Bad News and The McSweeney’s Joke Book of Book Jokes. He lives in New York. You can sign up for email updates here.
Also by Wayne Gladstone
Notes from the Internet Apocalypse
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Part I
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Part II
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Part III
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Wayne Gladstone
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
THOMAS DUNNE BOOKS.
An imprint of St. Martin’s Press.
AGENTS OF THE INTERNET APOCALYPSE. Copyright © 2015 by Wayne Gladstone. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.thomasdunnebooks.com
www.stmartins.com
Cover photographs: men in suits © Warren Goldswain / Shutterstock; Los Angeles skyline © Getty Images
eBooks may be purchased for business or promotional use. For information on bulk purchases, please contact Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department by writing to [email protected].
The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Gladstone, Wayne.
Agents of the internet apocalypse: a novel / Wayne Gladstone. — First edition.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-1-250-04839-4 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-4668-4925-9 (e-book)
1. Internet—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3607.L3436A73 2015
813'.6—dc23
2015015542
e-ISBN 9781466849259
First Edition: July 2015
se
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