“Mimi, you’ve got to talk to him,” Michael said, “There’s nobody better for cyber security in San Antonio. At least… there didn’t use to be. But now…”
Meredith Jacobs looked through the glass at Nathan Rizzo, once the hottest security IT expert in the region… and once her boyfriend. “What’s he doing?”
Nathan was banging his hand on the wall and making monosyllabic sounds that had a deranged, mentally broken nature: “Bing Me-me… bing me-me! BING MEME!”
“Trying to remember,” said Michael.
“His acronym— when he started, he made an acronym as a mnemonic to sell our services to clients. He named it after you, Mimi. That’s why we brought you in.”
“What’s the acronym?”
“It stands for:
Backup and Disaster Recovery Solutions
Education IT Services
Network Security Solutions
Managed IT Services
Municipal IT Services
…rather clever, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Meredith replied, then swallowed. “And you want me to… talk to him?”
She walked to the door, opened it, and came in tentatively. “Hello, Nathan,”
“Unnggghh?” Nathan Rizzo responded, turning from the mirror he’d been banging his fist on. “Mimi!”
“It’s been a long time…”
“AHHH!” And he ran screaming at her, and she ran screaming from the room, and that was the end of that.
Nathan, once the premier provider of cyber security in San Antonio, had sustained serious head trauma in his car accident. He had survived and retained many core functions. He could feed himself, dress himself, clean himself… but he could hardly speak, and it was hard to interact with people. When he meant to say hello, he would scream like a banshee and run at a person like some homicidal Forest Gump. But he wasn’t totally gone— on some level, he knew what had happened.
So he spent millions on brain surgery, trying to regain his old self. When he had exhausted his own saved assets, all he had to show for it was a weird little tap dance his left leg would do if somebody “help.” He was no closer to a solution. That’s when he began to spend company stock. But things weren’t getting better, and the doctors were telling him as much.
“Things aren’t getting better,” one doctor came in and said as Nathan was wallowing in the misery of a crestfallen genius.
“AHHHH!” Nathan yelled by way of greeting.
“Help!” The doctor responded without even meaning to, and Nathan tap-danced back to his bed in acrimony.
So passed several of the worst months of his life. It finally got the point where Michael had to step in, saying: “Nathan, you know you’ll always have a… a place in the hearts of Rx Technology… among the experts of cyber security in San Antonio, none were a greater help than you—”
“UNNGGHH!” And Nathan’s leg was tap-dancing again while he threw his arms around angrily.
Michael said, “Well, I’m glad that you can still be happy about some things… but you’re spending us dry. We’ll be bankrupt if you don’t stop soon.”
“I know, I know,” and Michael left.
Meanwhile, Nathan sat on his bed in the hospital room and plotted. There had to be a way, somewhere, somehow… there had to be something he could do to fix his mind!