午餐我还在新闻学院读书时，一位教授告诉我们，每个故事都是约瑟夫·坎伯著作《千面英雄》的变体。如果这是真的，那么这个故事就是为了追寻一杯优质的豆咖。
从早上与阿拉斯泰尔的争吵，到2075年的休息室大失望事件，再到你即将阅读到的午餐事件，卡尔今天的目标只是为了喝到一杯好豆咖。正如您将要看到的，忠实的读者，最终这将引导他到一个非常奇怪的地方。现在，让我们回到午餐时间。
一个小时，这就是一名工蜂能享受到的午餐时间。如果他们足够幸运的话。尽管人力资源部门对这一个小时的严格程度因公司而异，但大多数公司都不赞成午餐时间过长。那种事情是为高管准备的，而不是工蜂。你不太可能看到一名工蜂吃着“三杯马提尼的午餐”，但那些身价百万的高管们却可以逍遥自在。
注：三杯马提尼的午餐(three-martini lunch)代指有钱有闲的上层阶级可以享有的悠闲、放纵的午餐时光，我们必须理解高管和工蜂之间的阶级鸿沟。与社会上其他阶层或种姓一样，当一个阶层与另一个阶层打交道时，存在一些不成文的潜规则。虽然您，我们忠实的读者，不太可能会遇到一个高管——社会的重重障碍和不在少数的保镖确保了这一点——但一名工蜂却有可能。许多人都希望有朝一日能成为高管，而企业文化也鼓励这种梦想。
然而，对于绝大多数工蜂来说，中层管理职位已经是金字塔的顶端了。卡尔曾经渴望更多。如今，我觉得他甚至都不再渴望管理职位。他的身体还在椅子上，但他的灵魂已经飘出了门。
这又把我们带回了午餐时间，这是工蜂在12个小时的工作日中唯一的私人时间。如果你不是工蜂，那你就需要意识到，卡尔一半以上的时间，无论他是否清醒，都在为公司工作。当你仔细分析数据时会发现，他生命中超过一半的时间都奉献给了公司。
午餐时间是一个短暂的间歇。今天，卡尔放弃了公司的自助餐厅，转而去寻找一杯像样的豆咖。
> 公司食堂很像二十世纪的公司商店。那时候，人才是真正的矿工，而非无人机。他们的工资最终都流入了这些公司商店。他们付给你工资，然后你又把钱交给他们。你永远走不出这个怪圈。真是残酷。
> Dr. Spin
劇透 - :
LUNCH
When I was in journalism school, a professor told the class that every story is a variation of Joseph Campbell’s Hero’s Journey. If that’s true, this story is the quest for a cup of quality soykaf.
From his morning argument with Alastair to the Great Break Room Disappointment of 2075, to the lunch incident you’re about to read, Karl’s objective for the day was simply to get a good cup of soykaf. Ultimately—as you’ll see, loyal reader—it leads him to a very strange place indeed. For now, back to lunch.
One hour, that’s all a drone gets for lunch. If they are lucky. While the strictness with which human resources tracks this hour varies from corporation to corporation, most frown upon taking a long lunch. That sort of thing is for executives, not drones. You are not likely to see a drone have a three-martini liquid lunch, but some gold-plated execs can get away with it.
One must understand the divide between the executive and drone class. As is the case with any other stratification or caste in society, there are unspoken rules when one tier deals with the other. While you, loyal reader, are not likely to ever meet an executive—a host of social barriers, and not a few bodyguards, ensure this—a drone very well may. Many hope to become executives one day, and corporate culture encourages this dream.
Yet for the vast majority of drones, a middle-man-agement position is the top of the pyramid. Karl once aimed for more. Today, I don’t think he even aims for management. His body is in the chair, but his soul is already out the door.
Which brings us back to lunch, the drone’s only personal space in a twelve-hour day. If you aren’t a drone, you need to realize that half of Karl’s hours, waking or otherwise, are spent working for his corporation. When you break down the stats, more than half his life is devoted to the company.
Lunch is a brief redoubt. Today, Karl eschews the company cafeteria in search of a decent cup of soykaf.
> And the company cafeteria is a lot like twentieth century company stores. Back then, you had actual people going into mines instead of drones. Their wages wound up getting put right back into the company at these stores. They pay you, then you pay them. You never get ahead. Vicious.
> Dr. Spin
我问他，为什么不在自助餐厅买杯豆咖？
“也可以，但楼下的咖啡太糟糕了，”当我们站在十字路口等待时，他这样说。一个欢快的数字小人出现了，跳起了他的步行舞。我们穿过马路。你可以闻到来自海洋的咸味，在这个中午被强风吹到了城市深处。
“我在海边长大，”卡尔自发地说道。“在一个小岛上。我父亲是个艺术家。在他那个圈子里很成功。母亲……总之，我是闻着这样的空气长大的。”卡尔的母亲有一天走进太平洋淹死了。调查表明是自杀，但卡尔的父亲与那些有影响力的人有着足够密切的关系，使得官方的死因被裁定为“意外死亡”。当我进一步询问他的母亲时，卡尔沉默了。
“最好的咖啡。这边走，我知道一个小地方。”
他所说的“小地方”位于皮阿拉普市内的一个流浪者营地内。尽管在2050年代初期，一些公司对该地区进行了投资，但令人奇怪的是，流浪者营地仍未被私有化。在雷尼尔山投射出的菱形阴影下，能看到一个由瓦楞铁皮屋顶堆积而成的棚户营地。
卡尔自信地在营地中穿行，同时承认却又无视那些无SIN者。他拉着我的手，引导我穿过熙熙攘攘的人群。他们戴着兜帽，偷偷地朝我们的方向张望——很显然，我们在这里有些格格不入，但这些游民们却和工蜂做了笔好生意。
我们在一个咖啡摊前排了一小段队，这个咖啡摊是由一辆旧灰狗巴士的部分残骸改造而成的。
“这就是城里最好的豆咖，” 卡尔说道。“这其实是一家独立企业。你在其他地方看到的所谓‘独立’企业，不过都是企业的幌子。如果你想要真正的、地道的咖啡，来这里就对了。”
当然，只有当你有足够的时间在工作时间前往皮阿拉普的流浪者营地时，你才会来这里，但卡尔似乎愿意付出必要的时间。
制作豆咖的黄铜机器看起来就像是蒸汽朋克电影里的东西。这台机器不停发出老式火车般的轰鸣和震动，而后近乎黑色的焦油状液体厚重而粘稠地旋转着流出。纸杯是这里的首选。我看到一些纸杯被丢弃在摊位前，已经开始自我降解了。
卡尔抿了一口他的热咖啡，露出了微笑，但并不是对我笑。
"你在这里开心吗？" 我问道。
"怎么说？"
"我今天一整天都没见你笑过，除了在会议室的那一刻。你当时并不是在看辛格。”
他又笑了，“我当时在优化我的《觉醒：1949》角色。”他的笑容转为了一丝不悦，问我为什么提到他在这里开心。
"只是观察而已。" 我告诉他。毕竟，记者不应该影响他们的采访对象。
劇透 - :
I ask him, can’t he just get soykaf in the cafeteria?
“Yes, but it’s terrible downstairs,” he says as we wait at a crosswalk. The jaunty little digital man appears and does his walking dance. We cross. You can smell the salt air from the ocean, blown deep into the city by stiff winds this noon.
“I grew up on the ocean,” Karl says unprompted. “Little island. My father was an artist. Successful with a certain set. Mom was … well, anyway, I grew up smelling air like this. Karl’s mother walked into the Pacific one day and drowned. Research indicates suicide, but Karl’s father had enough connections with influential people that the official cause was ruled as “accidental.” When I asked about his mother further, Karl shut down.
“Kaf. The best. This way, little place I know.”
The “little place” he knows is located inside one of Puyallup’s squatter camps. While corporations invested in the neighborhood in the early 2050s, the squatter camps remain curiously unprivatized. A shantytown of corrugated iron roofs heaps against the black rhomboid of Mt. Rainier in the background.
Karl moves with confidence through the camp, simultaneously acknowledging yet ignoring the SINless. He takes me by the hand and steers me through the wanting crowd. Hooded eyes, furtive glances in our direction—it’s clear we don’t belong, and yet the squatters do a good business with the drone set.
We wind up in a short queue at a rattle-trap kaf stall carved out of the partial carcass of an old Greyhound bus.
“Best soykaf in the city,” Karl says. “This is actually an indie biz. Those so-called ‘indies’ you see elsewhere, they’re corporate fronts. You want real, salt-of-the-earth kaf, you come here.”
You only come here, of course, if you have enough time to travel to a Puyallup squatter camp during work hours, but Karl seems willing to make the needed time commitment.
The brass machine that makes the soykaf looks like something out of a steampunk trideo. It chugs and vibrates with all the gusto of an old train, as the near-black tar comes out in heavy, viscous loops. Paper cups are the choice here. I see some littered around the front of the stall that are already self-degrading.
Karl sips his hot kaf and smiles, though not at me.
“You’re happy here?” I ask.
“How do you mean?”
“I haven’t seen you smile all day, except for a moment in the conference room. You weren’t watching Singh.”
He smiles again, “Optimizing my Awakening: 1949 character.” His smile turns to a scowl, and he asks why I mentioned his being happy here.
“Just an observation,” I tell him. A reporter should not influence the subject of their profile, after all.
工蜂的流浪生活
工蜂和流浪者似乎是一个不太可能的组合，但工蜂频繁造访营地是有其合理原因的——独立企业。众所周知，独立企业主要存在于各种企业的保护伞之下。企业之所以不将它们改头换面，正是因为人们光顾这些小店、餐车和摊贩的原因就是它们并非公开与某个公司挂钩。
虽然每个人都知道它们中的大多数实际上是企业所有的，但谁也不能确定哪些不是。这就为那些原本属于大型连锁企业的地方增添了某种魅力。
企业的工蜂们经常会寻找一些安全但前卫的东西，而流浪者社区满足了这种需求。工蜂并不真正属于这里，而暴力的威胁至少在表面上存在。这就是工蜂风格的“流浪生活”。
事实上，这些营地由多个安保机构监管，可以说是相对安全的。那些真正危险的地方，比如战区和非军事区，是不会提供豆咖的，他们也都不会在公开场合进行交易。
流浪者营地提供了一个与工蜂会面的良好中立地点。这里几乎没有公司存在，而孤星、游侠骑士及其竞争对手都已经习惯于看到工蜂与营地中那些非传统时尚受害者打成一片。狂奔者可以很好地融入其中。
劇透 - :
SLUMMING DRONES
Drones and squatters seem like an unlikely mix, but there is a logical reason for drones to frequent the camps— independent businesses. It’s an open secret that independent businesses exist largely under various corporate umbrellas. The corporations do not rebrand them precisely because people patronize these little shops, food vans and carts because they are not openly tied to a corporation.
While everyone knows most of them are really corporate owned, one can never be sure which are not. This lends a certain charm to places that would otherwise be part of a large chain.
Corp drones often look for something safely edgy, and the squatter communities serve this need. Drones don’t really belong here, and the threat of violence hangs in the air, at least ostensibly. This is “slumming it,” drone style.
In truth, the camps are policed by various security agencies and are relatively safe. The really dangerous places, like combat zones and DMZs, don’t offer soykaf, and none of their business is done in the open.
Squatter camps provide a good, neutral location to meet a drone. Corporate presence is near non-existent and Lone Star, Knight Errant and their competition are used to seeing drones mingle with the non-traditional fashion victims seen in the camps. Runners fit right in.
“见鬼，我没时间吃一顿真正的午餐。” 卡尔啜饮着摊贩自制的豆咖，步履匆匆地赶回办公室。他指了指街对面的一家暴食屋，我们走了进去。
在这里，回到了舒适且熟悉的无情品牌环境中，卡尔在营地中的微笑已经远在几公里之外了。他走入便携午餐货架，拿起了一个“活力午餐包”，准备回到办公室加热。我没有跟过去。在门口停住了脚步。
这是因为这家暴食屋正在被抢劫。
两个男人戴着二十年前的全息电影明星才会戴的那种乳胶面具。其中的巨魔手里紧握着一把雷明顿·室内清扫者，指着我的方向。我甚至可以顺着枪管爬下去。它就那么大。
“进来。” 他转向卡尔，卡尔现在才意识到了情况。“你，打领带的，站到那个女士旁边，让我能看到你。”
卡尔慢慢地走向我，双手举在空中，右手仍然拿着他的活力午餐包。他没有像今早在列车上那样颤抖，相反，他表现出一种怪异的平静。他的脸就像全息影片中的英雄一样，我不知道卡尔的脑海中是否正在播放这样的场景。求你了，别做傻事，我这么想。该死的，两周前我还写了一篇文章，关于在办公室枪击事件中试图扮演狙击手斯莱德的公司工蜂。为了那篇报道，我去了很多次太平间。
这次他没有那么紧张。他脸上惯有的表情突然变得冷漠，就像一个反社会分子觉得你没有在看他时的表情。这是我今天中第一次不同情卡尔。我说不出自己的感受。也许是恐惧吧。
“你要逞英雄吗，工蜂？”那个巨魔看透了他的心思，这样问道。那个小个子的男人正在命令暴食屋的店员在他们洗劫电子消费品货架时坐着别动。
“还有这个，”小个子说着，一把将把整个货架上的三津滨克隆神户牛肉干塞给店员，店员则把它们放到袋子里。
我现在明白了，卡尔不在这里。我不知道他在哪。也许是在某个游戏中。
劇透 - :
“Drek, I don’t have time for a real lunch.” Karl’s wired on the homemade soykaf, and his pace is double-timing it back to the office. He points toward a Stuffer Shack across the street, and we go inside.
Here, back in the comfortable familiarity of the relentlessly branded, Karl’s ghetto smile is several kilometers away. He picks the portable lunch aisle and scoops up a “POWR-Lunch” package to nuke back at the office. I don’t follow. I stop in my tracks at the door.
That’s because the Stuffer Shack is in the process of being robbed.
Two men wear the latex faces of trid stars from two decades ago. The troll holds a Remington Roomsweeper in a balled up fist and points it my way. I could crawl down the barrel. It’s that big.
“Inside.” He turns to Karl, who only now realizes the situation. “You, necktie, where I can see you by the lady.”
Karl walks slowly over to me, arms in the air, right hand still carrying his POWR-Lunch. He isn’t quivering like on the train this morning; instead, he projects an eerie calm. His face is like that of the hero in a trid, really, and I wonder if a scene like that plays through Karl’s mind. Please, don’t do anything stupid, I think. Hell, I wrote the article two weeks ago about the corp drone who tried to go Slade the Sniper during an office shooting. I made one of my many trips to the morgue for that story.
He isn’t tense this time. The usual look on his face has gone suddenly cold, like how a sociopath might look if they thought you weren’t watching. It’s the first time in the day I don’t feel sorry for Karl. I cannot say what I feel. Fear maybe.
“You going to play hero, drone?” the troll asks, reading him. The smaller man is ordering the Stuffer Shack clerk to sit still while they loot the consumer electronics aisle.
“And this too,” the smaller man says, shoving the entire display of Mitsuhama’s Kobe-Klone Beef Jerky at the clerk, who puts it in the bag.
Karl isn’t here; I see that now. I don’t know where he is. Maybe in a game.
工蜂的犯罪白日梦
与VITAS相关的是一种尚未命名的"综合症"，即市民试图干预危险情况。尽管游侠骑士与该市签订了合同，但像暴食屋这样的抢劫案并不罕见(尤其是因为位于中低收入社区的暴食屋并非游侠骑士的首要保护对象)。
全息影片与游戏美化了普通人在遇到这种情况时的反应，从而催生了被媒体称作“米堤事件”的情况。这是指一个普通人(通常与公司有关系)将全息影片与现实混淆，并试图扮演英雄的时刻。这些事件总是以悲剧收场。
心理学家将这些失败的干预归因于工蜂和类似人群在被严格限制的生活中积压的愤怒和挫败感。该理论认为，在刻板的循规蹈矩中度过的生活，容易使人产生一时的纯粹冲动。在媒体塑造的孤胆英雄神话的支撑下，在“战或逃”的肾上腺素的巨大作用下，个人会突然爆发，试图阻止暴力行为。
仅去年在西雅图就有12人因试图扮演英雄而丧生。
> 这是真的，但他们没有告诉你的是这也是一名工蜂会与像我这样的狂奔者合作的原因。他们中的一些人渴望着我们拥有的生活。他们梦想在暗影中狂奔，拿着一把H&K，开着跳线反射，使用个人战斗程序评估情况并选择目标向量。问题是，他们没有跳线反射，他们唯一一支开过火的H&K是在《狂奔吧，狂奔者》游戏中。
这是一种妄想，但这是一种我们可以利用的妄想，你知道吗？给某人一个机会来实现这样的幻想，哪怕只是一点点，你也会惊讶地发现，他们陷入街头黑暗一面的速度如此之快。
但绝对，绝对不要，将他们带到真正的任务中。
> Pistons
劇透 - :
THE SECRET CRIMINAL LIFE OF DRONES
Related to VITAS is an as-yet-unnamed “syndrome” in which citizens attempt to intervene in dangerous situations. Despite Knight Errant’s contract with the city, robberies like the one at the Stuffer Shack are not rare (especially because Stuffer Shacks in middle- and lower-class neighborhoods are not top KE priorities).
A life of trids and games glamorizing the common man’s reaction to situations like this gave birth to what the press named “Mitty Events.” These are moments when an average Joe, usually with corp ties, confuses trids for reality and tries to play the hero. These events invariably end tragically.
Psychologists have ascribed these failed interventions to the pent-up anger and frustration of the closely proscribed life of the drone and those like her. Lives spent in rigid conformity, the theory argues, lend themselves to moments of sheer impulsiveness. Backed by a media myth of the lone hero, and under terrible amounts of fight-or-flight adrenaline, the individual snaps and tries to stop the violent act.
Twelve people died in Seattle alone last year trying to play the hero.
> It’s true, but what they don’t tell you is it’s also a reason a drone will work with a runner like me. Some of them want the lives we have. They have wet dreams about running the shadows with an H&K, wired reflexes, and personal combat programs assessing a situation and selecting target vectors. Thing is, they don’t have wired reflexes and the only H&K they ever shot was in Run, Run, Runner.
That’s delusional, but it’s a delusion we can use, you know? Give someone a chance to live out a fantasy like this, even a little, and you’d be surprised how quick they fall in with the darker side of the street.
Don’t ever, never, bring one on an actual run though.
> Pistons
