For three days L.A. had shimmered under a brown heat haze. I was working my way through a bottle of cheap bourbon that was working its way through my liver when I got the call. The jangling phone jarred me out of a daydream of better times, when end-users still had some respect for network architects and what they stood for. I'd been waiting for the word. "Yeah, right, it was bound to happen soon," I said tonelessly. The PC was dead.
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