cyber-security

The Chool Bus (ch27)

CHAPTER 27: Focus-group interviews at UNLV complete, the Forks take a detour to Lake Tahoe for a guided boat cruise on Emerald Bay.

When Professor T started going on and on about Lake Tahoe, Buck silently remembered the wild story a girl he dated in Corpus Christie back in high school told him. Apparently her mother had friends who traveled to Tahoe for a gathering of Western-themed social media influencers, basically an industry party. Lots of dancing and modeling cowboy/girl clothing, hats, and horse tack products. There was a “bad weather” forecast, but storms very often come and go quickly on this high alpine lake as a matter of routine. Unfortunately for several boat owners and eight unlucky passengers, the storm did quite a bit more than cause a blustery inconvenience and Buck was determined to pump the brakes on any lake-cruise ideas if the forecast started looking sketchy. 

The gang wanted to charter a private party cruise on Emerald Bay and Buck’s no shrinking violet, so he made no protest, but keeping this tragic story close to his vest, he watched the weather forecast closely. He was prepared to make a case for sticking to the shore if necessary…he did not trust Mother Nature…not here.

As the Chool Bus rolled over a rise entering the lake’s basin, surrounded by Sierra Nevada mountains, these flatlanders felt a strange sense of claustrophobic verticality. After all, the Forks were used to seeing the horizon disappear up to twenty miles in any direction. Their familiar landscape was horizontal. But here in the Tahoe basin the spacial axis flips almost completely vertical. Instead of an open sky stretching forever, the landscape folds sharply upward. It felt almost like they were cupped inside a giant basin, surrounded by timber-heavy peaks nine to ten thousand feet. It was somewhat disorienting for Billie. She knew the Bus was up to the alpine mechanical challenge and she had no trouble piloting in these conditions, but she had never seen such a natural spectacle as this. From one of the scenic overlooks they could actually see granite boulders up to fifty feet below the surface as if resting at the bottom of a freshly scrubbed swimming pool. In this expanse, the shade of blue isn’t the soft hazy sky-color to which they were accustomed, but more like a deep, cobalt electric blue that seemed artificially saturated.

And their depth perception was affected, too. On the plains, when one sees a town or a ridge, they know roughly how long it takes to drive there. In the Tahoe basin, across the liquid expanse, the opposit shoreline looks like one could reach out and touch it, yet it’s twelve miles of deep, ice-cold water away. 

When the gang finally made it to the marina they agreed Tahoe felt like stepping inside a giant, hidden room made of stone, glass, and pine. Sort of a shock to the system… like moving from a world of infinite horizontal space to one dominated by massive depth and towering height.

As Professor T worked out final boarding arrangements his comrades relaxed at the bar with buck stealthily monitoring the weather in real-time. He had resolved to stay fairly sober in order not to miss any subtle cues from Mother Nature which would send him into guardian mode.

“So what about those deep-water mafia graveyard legends?” said Billie. “Like that scene in the Godfather where Fredo met his untimely end… i heard the bottom of Lake Tahoe would be littered with perfectly preserved former wiseguys sleeping with the fishes. You know… because the water is so c-c-c-cold?” Billy was half-joking. She knew deep-water exploring technologies had to have advanced to the point of exploring the bottom long ago. If there was any truth to the legends, they’d have heard about it by now.

Jack knew the stories were just that, provocative and entertaining, but essentially a nothingburger. “In fact, mobsters looking to make a killing in the casino business back in the day found Tahoe basically too much trouble. With the small size, inclement, sometimes unpredictably furious weather, a ‘Sin City’ on the lake never really materialized. The casinos that did emerge on the South Shore were basically bootstrapped by a couple ‘straight-arrow’ guys, anyway. So… great movie fodder, but not much in the way of news.”  

“Buzzkiller,” said Billie with a crooked smirk.

Fees paid and boarding time approaching, Buck took one last look at the forecast, all clear! When the gates opened, they made a beeline for the top deck, grabbed a drink and, taking in the massive 360- degree expanse of the crystal-clear water, basked in the sunshine and glory of Mother Nature’s spectacular wonder. 

Several miles of deep-blue open water later with Mount Tallac looming large overhead, the boat finally passed through the narrow mouth of Emerald Bay, the deep cobalt blue of the main lake’s water abruptly shifting into a brilliant, translucent turquoise. Once inside the bay, the captain throttled down slowing the boat to a smooth, quiet glide where they would soon circle Fannette Island giving everyone a photogenic view of the stone “tea house” perched on its peak, then past Vikingsholm, a thirty-eight room Scandinavian castle nestled in the pine forest on the shore.

After dropping anchor and releasing the more adventurous guests to some swimming or floating time in the not quite as icy water of the bay, the boat was again underway for a beautiful “golden hour” return to the marina. Professor T was at the bow taking it all in, with the sun dropping behind the Sierra peaks and the sky turning vibrant shades of pink, orange, and violet all reflecting across the still water, he almost dreaded going back into the breach of our divided nation looking for the causes of it’s wild fibrillation. Jack was in the main galley talking to a handsome lady on the boat for a family shindig. Not a single word about cyber-security and Jack was more than fine with it. Buck and Billie were back on the top deck soaking the experience and trying to hide that fluttering feeling in your stomach when you know something seismic is brewing, but you’re kinda scared of it and you do your best to hide it from your familiars. 

Once back in the bus and heading for the RV park, Buck let out a sigh of relief and never mentioned his Texas cowgirl friend’s tragic story.

NEXT WEEK:
All agreed, the backtracking detour to Lake Tahoe was worth the trouble, but it was time to get back to business. Eleven punishing hours to Flagstaff Arizona for the next round of  focus-group interviews… then, a trip to the deepest crack in the USA, the Grand Canyon.

GO BACK => Preface and Chapter Links

The Chool Bus (ch03)

Chapter 3: Jack Dean makes paranoia a viable career path

By the wall clock it was 9:15pm. Jack Dean had no plan to still be on campus after celebrating accomplishments and attending end of semester ceremonies. But he had grades to turn in and that needed to be done Monday at noon. Normally he would have saved some of that work for Saturday but he was scheduled to hit the road with his former band mates, Mork Thompson and Billie Schmidt and he needed Saturday and Sunday for attending personal tasks preparing for the first of many road trips supporting Thompson’s research project searching for the fibrillating heart of our divided nation. Fortunately, he was able to click submit on the final class roster before 10:00pm. Now he could head home, get some sleep, and get his business done in time to check in with the gang Sunday afternoon.

Back in the day Jack played a crucial role in the Grunge band (The Forks) with Billie and Professor Thompson (stage name, Mork T.). Jack was not just a perfectly serviceable bass player, he was also the glue that kept Mork T, the group’s center of gravity and Billie Schmidt, their kinetic hot-headed drummer from flying apart. A bit of a paranoia case, Jack could sense when trouble was brewing. Not only between his mercurial companions but also with promoters, venue owners, and fans. Like… he had a 6th sense antenna for trouble. Fortunately, these proclivities served him well after the band broke up and each member sought their own post rock-n-roll life. 

Again, Jack was a bit of a paranoid, not pathological, but enough to make sleep a bit of a challenge. His nighttime MO consisted of a couple hits of primo weed and a beer or two on weekends. On this occasion he skipped the beer and hit the hay after packing his ganja back in it’s safe place. Tomorrow would be dedicated to making preparations for weeks on the road conducting focus group interviews and tending to logistics with the assistance of a US road atlas and a new GPS app sporting various celebrity personalities for voices. Jack called the app, Siri’s Drunk Sister (SDS) because it had led him astray a couple times and he felt he needed to cross-reference questionable back road routes with the official road atlas. No worries, the extra vigilance was worth the trouble because the newest build had Samuel L Jackson and Roseanne Barr among others giving voice instructions. Colorful remonstrations issued forth whenever a driver made turns not aligned with SDS instructions… often hilarious. 

And like Billie, Jack was excited to be part of Professor Thompson’s team as he was also on the university’s tenure track and so needed publication credits for his curriculum vitae. More importantly, he was excited to be traveling with his old band mates, older, wiser, no longer dealing with the youthful angst and drunken drama that marked many of the “good ol’ days”.

One reason the gang’s checkered past was even more colorful than most was Jack’s hapless talent for attracting trouble.

And though he was no longer soliciting extra-curricular rendezvous with young admirers, he was responsible for a rock-steady bootie-movin’ groove that made him nearly irresistible to the susceptible. And so this animal magnetism had to be judiciously regulated on campus. Jack was damn good at redirecting the amorous advances of impressionable young ladies. And fortunately, as a cyber-security specialist, not many of his direct charges were of the female persuasion. As well, for some reason, his male LGBT students weren’t susceptible to Jack’s particular brand of pheromone. 

And so, the gang was reunited, Billie had taken the Chool Bus on a maiden voyage over one of the more challenging mountain passes on a pilgrimage to visit Owl Farm in Woody Creek Colorado, the home and redoubt sanctuary of her favorite cultural critic Hunter S Thompson. So with the Chool Bus road-tested from the High Plains to the top of the world, the Forks were ready to take the nation’s temperature, coast to coast. 

First stop, Fort Collins Colorado. Professor T’s research included survey questionnaires, the type used by political pollsters, where participants are drawn from college towns, dense urban population centers, and rural working-class communities with strong religious identifications. This data would be juxtaposed with the face-to-face focus-group work conducted by the reunited Forks making their way from state to state in a rolling home converted for traveling rock and roll refugees, the Chool Bus. Appointments with off-the beaten path communities as well as inner-city diverse-demographic groups are made and the tentative itinerary was crafted to be flexible enough to provide alternate destinations in case any of the original appointments proved unworkable for whatever reason.

Jack Dean, the paranoid tenure-track cyber-security instructor with a history of attracting trouble and a terrific bass player with tons of soul. No way Billie and Professor T would trade Jack for a less troublesome model, the Forks loved their mildly paranoid groovelicious partner.

NEXT WEEK:
Chapter 4: The Forks embark, and Professor T learns the perceived value of privacy in a social media world.

GO BACK => Preface and Chapter Links