Scamerican dream

Chapter 36. Conversation with a friend. (2007)

It happened so that we were celebrating QQ’s birthday alone, just him and me. Pit was on a business trip with his team, and Nick was on a holiday with his girlfriend.

‘What, with a girl, really? He’s probably making it up.’

‘I didn’t see them off at the airport, naturally, but a few days before departure Nick stopped by my place accompanied by some girl. We talked and smoked outside and she sat in the car, so I didn’t get a good look.’

‘Probably a real toad.’ QQ grinned.

‘Why jump to conclusions?’

‘Well, if not a toad, then an elephant.’

‘Look, QQ, Nick is not Alain Delon, but not a monster either. He may be slightly overweight though.’

‘Slightly? He’d get accepted into the Olympic sumo team if he wanted to.’

‘Har har. He’s a kind man and a good friend. Also, as far as I know, sumo is not a part of the Olympics.’

‘Agreed. Why did he take that chick to the seaside anyway?’

‘Dude, I don’t know the specifics. Probably wants to impress her.’

‘Who can you impress with this these days?’

‘QQ, everyone has their methods. I honestly don’t give a flying fuck about why he took her on a holiday. I care about seeing him glow with happiness when I saw him, you get it?’

‘What did you expect? Finally, after a hundred years of not getting any!’

‘Your jokes are pretty cruel, QQ.’

‘Nah, man. You know I love him as a younger brother,’ said QQ seriously. ‘A retarded younger brother,’ he added and laughed. ‘Just kidding.’

‘I think it’s none of our business. Come on, let’s start celebrating your birthday.’

‘Ah, right, we’re not waiting for anyone else, are we? Let’s go to the kitchen.’

I must admit, I was pleasantly surprised when I saw that the table was full of treats.

‘When did you manage all this?’

‘Ah, it’s all Sonya’s work. Spent the entire morning in the kitchen. Do you think three bottles of cognac will be enough?’

‘Yeah. Where did Sonya go then? Where have you hidden her?’

‘She’s flown away,’ said QQ, mimicking plane wings with his arms.

‘Where? Why?’

‘She’s a flight attendant. To Canada, I think. Will be back in a week or so.’

‘I see. Well then, tell me, are you two getting serious? That’s where you get duty free booze from, right?’

‘Right. Very serious, yeah, so serious, in fact, that tomorrow night Kat is coming over here.’

‘You’re a hopeless player. High time you got married!’

‘Get married yourself. Enough with the lecturing, let’s have a drink.’

‘Let’s,’ I replied and poured the drink. ‘I wish you all the best, my friend; I am so glad that we’re on the same team.’

‘Thanks.’

We had a drink.

‘Let’s not take a pause and have another instead.’

There was a distant sadness in QQ’s eyes. We had another drink, and very soon the bottle was empty. I wasn’t very hungry, but I wanted to talk.

‘QQ, I’ve wanted to ask you for a while, how did you get into carding?’

‘I’ve always been there,’ he laughed while opening another bottle of expensive cognac.

‘Next you’ll tell me you invented it.’

‘Close enough.’

‘Stop bullshitting me. I know your family is quite well off. Could have gone to a good university and found a well-paid job.’

‘Are you kidding?’ QQ interrupted. ‘Go to work every day after I’ve tasted easy money? After making over $1000 a night?’

‘Hold on, hold on, I can’t remember a time when you were making over $1000. Was that before we met or after?’

‘Before, of course. By the time we met I’ve been in the business for a long time and was heavily involved with the casino scheme, I just didn’t tell you.’

‘I don’t understand then. Why did you get involved with us? You could just sit there and win and then cash your winnings on your own, what did you need us for?’

‘See, you still don’t get it. That’s why I didn’t tell you anything then. You would not have believed me back then.’ QQ poured the drinks. ‘Let’s have another and then I’ll talk.’

‘How about some lemon?’

QQ opened the fridge, reached into it, got a lemon, washed it and stuffed it into my hand.

‘Too lazy to cut it, just bite into it,’ he said, smiling.

We took a couple more shots and QQ continued.

‘You see, I needed a team. It’s easier psychologically.’

‘Wow, you’re a sensitive one, who would have thought. Tell me how you got into carding in the first place.’

‘Same as everyone. The parents bought a PC and a modem, connected to the Internet. In a couple of months I accidentally stumbled upon a most curious IRC channel, cardrus. And so it went…’

‘What year was that, approximately?’

‘Not sure, late 90s.’

‘Well, shit. You mean you were there pretty much from the start?’

‘Yes, pretty much. Good times, back then. People really connected, there was a sense of comradeship, we helped each other, advised each other.’

‘Hey, was it when you could buy stuff from the US shops using randomly generated card numbers?’

‘Hah, funny of you to remember. Yes, there was a program that could generate any number. It was fun; then everybody suddenly realized that there was more than just jeans and sneakers to it, and the community got more guarded, I guess.’

‘What about those meets you used to go to a couple of years after we met?’

‘Carderplanet? That was in the later days of the community. All everyone cared about by then was money, it was very impersonal.’

‘What did you expect?’

‘Nothing,’ said QQ and started pouring the third bottle. ‘That’s me then. How did you and Nick start robbing poor Americans?’ QQ laughed.

‘Long story.’

‘Are we in a hurry?’

‘Well, no.’

My story took the better part of an hour, and I remembered some long forgotten details.

‘That’s when we met you.’

‘Well, that was educational. I am a bit hungry. Do you want to heat up some food while I dash to the supermarket?’

‘What for?’

‘What for what?’

‘The supermarket. We’ve got a whole table of delicious food.’

‘The cognac is nearly gone, but I demand we keep the party going!’ With this yell, he leapt from the table and ran away.

These days heating food up is not a simple affair, it’s a super simple affair: a few minutes and everything is ready. I made myself coffee so I could stay awake and sat down to wait for QQ. My head was full of thoughts. I couldn’t complete the puzzle, add up the common features of a man who picks up our trade. Ivan, for instance… Wonder what happened to him. Should I try to find him? Endless stream of thoughts. I didn’t notice when I fell asleep. I don’t know how long I slept, and only QQ’s loud voice brought me back to consciousness.

‘Fucking faggots!’

‘What? Who? What’s going on?’

‘Those assholes at the supermarket had their POS terminal system down, so I had to take a cab to the nearest cashpoint.’

‘How long have you been gone?’

‘How would I know? What have you been doing? Did you warm up the food?’

‘Yes, I did. I was thinking.’

‘He was thinking! I am guessing the button imprint on your forehead is from all the thinking you’ve been doing!’ QQ laughed.

‘What?’

‘Max, you fell asleep. You put your head on your arm and fell asleep, and in the meanwhile the evil cuff button dug into your forehead. If I didn’t return in time to save you, it would have drilled into your brain.’

‘Stop taking crap. Let me warm up the food once more, and you pour the cognac.’

‘There’s no cognac.’

‘What? You said you went to a cashpoint!’

‘Correct, but I didn’t buy cognac. I bought tequiiiiiiiiiila!’ QQ jumped in the air in a poor imitation of a loser-cheerleader of second division team.

‘What a surprise! Tequila it is then. Pour it.’

I heated the food up again, and we began eating. We ate in silence. I don’t know why QQ stayed quiet, but I was enjoying the taste. I’ve never had a tastier baked turkey. Ten minutes later QQ broke the silence.

‘Listen, I want to toast to my parents.’

‘Sure.’ We had a drink with a lime. ‘Why is it so sour?’

‘What did you expect it to be like? Sweet?’ QQ bit off half a lime just to taunt me.

‘You’re a monster!’

‘Look at yourself,’ QQ responded in an offended voice.

‘While I was waiting for you, I noticed this broken clock on the wall, where did you get them from?’

‘US, as usual.’

‘Cool. Expensive?’

‘I don’t remember, I didn’t buy them myself. Like, two or three thousand dollars. Some famous designer’s work.’

‘Way too expensive, even it were the 20th President of the US’s work.’

‘Yeah, I wouldn’t pay so much for the 20th pres.’ QQ tried to make a serious face, like someone who has a good understanding of arts, but a few seconds later he laughed and started pouring tequila again.

‘By the way, QQ, do you know what I like most about our work?’

‘The money?’

‘Nope.’

‘The power? Feeling like you are the master of puppets? That with a couple of keystrokes you can send someone in the US to the post office with a parcel?’

‘Nope. Both things you just mentioned hold the least amount of appeal to me.’

‘Well, if you don’t care about money and power, then I give up. Go ahead, you saint, spill it.’

‘Thanks, but I am far from a saint. As far as money and power goes, of course I cared about those, but only early on. The power over the minds of my university friends, over the drops, the money, the money… Now it doesn’t make me tick like it did. I like to think of our work as some kind of psychological testing grounds. I am interested in how our drops behave in different situations; they tell me about their family problems that stopped them from sending parcels.’

‘I don’t understand. Give me an example.’

‘There are hundreds of examples. Got beaten up by a jealous husband, couldn’t make it to the post office…’

‘Really?’

‘I’m telling you. There’s a load of storied like that. I like how I don’t need to watch the telly to get all the latest American news. There was a hurricane, so the parcel got lost.’

‘Cool. I never imagined that someone would share this stuff with an employer.’

‘I’ve already forgotten half of them, it’s been a while. Now though, when I am training newbies to handle drops, I come across stuff that makes me sigh and shake my head. Oh, here’s a good recent one: one of the drops was trying to convince me to vote for Bush.’

‘What, for real?’

‘Yeah, kept sending me leaflets in the attachments, asked questions.’

‘Hah, imagine his surprise if he learned you didn’t even have the right to vote and were, in fact, half a world away.’

‘He’d probably go crazy. So, you see, I don’t have to check the news to know about the upcoming elections.’

‘So what were we talking about?’

‘Before you left or after?’

‘After, of course.’

‘Hm… I asked you about that clock.’

‘Ah, yes. The unjustified cost of things. How much was this shirt that you’re wearing?’ QQ poked me in the stomach.

‘Stop it, that hurt! I can’t remember, about $300 probably.’

‘Your jeans?’

‘600’

‘Boots?’

‘700’

‘Belt?’

‘Around 500.’

‘Coat?’

‘Just over 2000.’

‘Altogether over $4000.’

‘Hey, my inbuilt calculator broke on the third bottle.’

‘Sucker.’

‘Sure, I am not as prolific at drinking these days.’

‘Shame, really. Anyway, you’re wearing over $4000 worth of clothes right now. How much do you think my outfit costs?’

‘Hm.’ I paused.

‘I’ll give you a tip: less than $1000.’

‘$987?’

‘At that rate you’ll keep guessing for a while. Just over $300. Fleece, jeans, t-shirt and a windcheater. Only 300, get it?’

‘Let me guess, you bought all of this from eBay, and before you those things belonged to dirty Harry?’ I jested.

‘Keep on laughing,’ said QQ smiling. ‘Here, feel that.’

‘QQ, you’re drunk, I have no desire to feel you up.’ I tried to make a serious face.

‘Idiot, feel the quality of the material! Amazing fucking fleece, so soft.’

‘Yeah, the fleece is pretty decent. I should get one of those too. What brand is it?’

‘That’s where it get interesting. I am willing to bet you you’ve never heard of the name on the label.’

‘No bets for me.’

‘You see, I buy stuff from little-known brands, but of high quality. Your sport exclusively Italian labels that are world famous.’

‘I don’t follow, what are you getting at?’

‘I’m saying that in your case it’s not the clothes that cost $4000, but the labels attached to them.’

‘Okay, I suppose I agree.’

‘So you agree that the customers are getting fucked over?’

‘Of course I do.’

‘That’s why I think what we are doing is the right thing.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘They’re fucking us over, we’re fucking them over back by stealing their clothes.’

‘Wow, that’s pretty deep. I didn’t even see where you were going with this at first.’

‘I’m not finished.’

‘Oh, sorry, your majesty, how dare I interrupt you.’

‘Take electrical appliances for instance. It’s all just cheating and stealing, all the way. Why release new models every year, even though the quality leaves much to be desired? How long did your previous phone live?’

‘Less than a year.’

‘Your printer?’

‘Just over a year.’

‘Did you try to fix it?’

‘They told me to just buy a new at the service centre, said it’ll cost about the same. Bullshit.’

‘That’s the global fuck-over at its best. Have you heard about the theory of planned aging?’

‘Heard of it, but never bothered to get into details.’

‘Your loss. You see, manufacturers make products that break quickly, because it’s beneficial to them.’

‘Okay, maybe.’

‘Not maybe, it’s a fact, I’m telling you.’

When I looked into QQ’s eyes, I felt uncomfortable. I wouldn’t be surprised if after a couple more shots he’d started rallying to burn down stores and throwing manufacturers into alligator pits.

‘I think that our conscience is clear, at least mine is. It’s a war, and only the strongest survive.’

‘I agree with you, but only partially.’ I said, pouring more tequila.

‘What do you mean, ‘partially’?’

‘I think you’re right in that honest consumers get fucked over. But I don’t think that our business is an adequate measure in the fight for justice. We match evil with evil.’

‘Oh, you’re on it again! Max, do you want to hear what I honestly think?’

‘Go on.’

‘In those moments when you start to talk like Mahatma fucking Gandhi, I hate you. You make me so mad. It’s all empty talk. Like, everything should be in harmony. Like, if you see two jocks beating up a weak guy, dance a pretty dance next to them, to even the bad out with good. It’s all bollocks.’

‘Yes, what you just described is bollocks. I just think you should respond to evil adequately, whereas if you respond with evil, you just multiply it.’

‘Fuck, Max, stop it. My brain is about to boil.’ QQ yelled, grabbing his head. ‘Where did you get all this shit from?’

‘First, it’s not shit, second, I read about in clever books.’

‘Burn them immediately.’

‘They are e-books.’ I said smiling. ‘As far as your theory about fighting, war and revenge, I think that’s complete bollocks.’

‘Why is that?’

‘Because, in the depth of your heart, you don’t give a fuck about who you steal from. You’re doing it because you want the money.’

‘Like you aren’t.’

‘Of course, I am not without sin myself. But I am not afraid to admit it to myself. I don’t hide behind pretty theories and motives.’

‘Speaking of motives. You and I have argued about it, bet on it, you explained it to me few times, but I still don’t get it.’

‘What?’

‘Do you have a seven-digit number in your account?’

‘Assume it’s a yes.’

‘Okay. Then explain to me, why do you keep doing this?’

‘What?’

‘Why do you spend your time on projects that bring $10,000 at best, or, in most cases, just $2000? Why do you do this? Do you have nothing to eat? Or is it a strange fetish of yours? Or are you trying to drive me nuts?’ QQ was yelling at this point, his face as red as a tomato.

‘Unless you stop yelling like a hysteric during her period, I’ll just go home.’ I told him calmly.

‘Sorry, Max. It’s just that this question keeps bothering me. You’re nearly bald, and you still spend your whole time in front of a PC. Why the fuck do you keep coming up with new projects, coming up with tales, wasting your time? We have projects which bring us serious regular income. Live and enjoy, I say, but no, it’s not enough for you, is it?’

‘What you don’t get, QQ, is that it’s not about money. I am just interested in creating new things, observing people’s reactions, whether they believe me or not. I care about psychology, not money. I have enough of it to not think about it.’

‘I don’t believe you,’ said QQ.

We talked for a bit more and then decided to leave it until tomorrow, we were both very sleepy and the light of dawn was already creeping through the poorly shut blinds.

That night I had a dream that heavily influenced my worldview. In an ocean, deep down, I am swimming, neither a fish nor a human, but rather something in between. And then I notice a beam of light that somehow magically penetrated this deep darkness flash momentarily and then vanish again. I get curious; a mysterious force starts pulling me up. For a second the same light appears. I am almost at the surface, in a few seconds I should jump out of the water, but something stops me at the last second, as if I am hitting something with my head. I look up and I see that the entire surface of the water is covered with various things, creating a horizontal wall that won’t let me get through to the light. Looking for an opening, I peer closer. Phones, computers, clothes, cars, toothbrushes and other things are coating the water like some sort of film. I can see the light through it and I am 100% sure that the light is real, but I can’t break the surface. After this dream material possessions lost their former charm.