Investigation.
The word hung in the air like a death sentence. Nvidia wasn't some disgruntled forum user. They were a tech titan with armies of engineers and lawyers. They could analyse returned cards, track serial numbers, potentially subpoena forum records, payment processors... The comfortable anonymity Theo had curated felt terrifyingly fragile. This wasn't just about protecting profits anymore. It was about protecting his secret, his freedom.
Abort, his mind screamed, primal survival instinct overriding everything else. Abort! Shut it all down! Scorched earth!
Friday. Theo felt brittle, running on pure adrenaline and stale coffee. The Nvidia news had cast a pall over everything. The GPU market felt radioactive. He needed to think, to strategize, but his apartment felt suffocating, the unsold GPUs mocking him silently. He needed distance.
His phone buzzed. Sarah.
Sarah: Hey! Rough week over here (layoff rumours confirmed, ugh). Could seriously use a coffee and maybe vent to someone who isn't a Meta algorithm lol. You mentioned maybe having time 'down the line' - any chance that time is now? My treat!
Normally, he would have deflected instantly. Too risky, too distracting. But today… the thought of sitting somewhere normal, talking about something other than benchmark scores and corporate investigations, felt almost necessary. A calculated risk for mental equilibrium. Plus, the tiny, persistent voice reminded him, he might need allies, or at least options, if his current path imploded.
Theo: Actually, yeah. Coffee could work. Busy later, but free for an hour around lunchtime? There's a quiet place not too far, Corner Crema Coffee, you know it?
Sarah: Perfect! See you there at 1? :)
The cafe was bright, airy, filled with the low murmur of conversations and the hiss of the espresso machine. The smell of roasted coffee was a welcome anchor in his turbulent thoughts. He claimed a corner booth, back to the wall, scanning the room habitually.
Sarah arrived moments later, dressed in smart casual, a stark contrast to her usual cycling gear. She slid into the booth opposite him, offering a stressed but genuine smile. "Thanks for meeting me on short notice. Seriously needed an escape from the corporate doom loop."
They ordered coffee, and almost immediately, Sarah launched into her frustrations with Meta, the endless reorgs, the feeling of working on ethically dubious ad tech, the looming layoffs. Then, as if needing to cleanse her palate, she shifted gears, her eyes lighting up.
"But you know what has been good?" she said, leaning forward conspiratorially. "I actually spent like three hours last night coding a prototype for that cycling data analysis thing! Just mapping out how to ingest Garmin data, normalize it…" She pulled out her phone, showing him some rough Python script snippets and UI mockups she'd sketched in a notebook app. "Imagine," she enthused, her earlier stress forgotten, "real-time predictive pacing! Or automatically identifying your functional threshold power shifts week to week! It feels like something… useful, you know? Something tangible, not just… optimizing ad impressions."
Theo found himself genuinely listening, drawn in by her infectious passion and the technical challenge she described. His analytical mind engaged, momentarily pushing aside the Nvidia dread. "Data normalization would be key," he heard himself say, surprising himself. "Especially with different power meters, variable recording intervals… How are you planning to handle outliers or data dropouts?"
Sarah beamed, clearly thrilled he understood. "Exactly! That's the tricky part! I was thinking maybe some Kalman filtering for smoothing, or perhaps…"
They talked tech for ten minutes, Theo asking pointed questions, Sarah excitedly explaining her ideas. It was the most normal, engaging conversation he'd had in weeks. Then she paused, tilting her head, her curious gaze returning.
"So," she said gently, "you mentioned hitting 'major roadblocks' on your project? Sounded serious. Anything you… want to vent about? Sometimes just saying it out loud helps."
Theo froze internally. The invitation was open, genuine. Tell her? Hint at the pressure, the sudden need to pivot? The urge to confide, even vaguely, was unexpectedly strong. He saw the intelligence and empathy in her eyes. But years of self-preservation slammed the door shut.
He forced a tight smile, running a hand through his hair, a gesture he realized was becoming a tell for his stress. "Ah, you know how it is. Complex projects… unexpected technical hurdles, market shifts. Standard freelance chaos." He deliberately kept his tone light, dismissive. "Just means… might need to rethink the whole approach. Find a new angle." He immediately steered the conversation back to her project, asking about her preferred development environment.
He left the cafe an hour later feeling strangely wired. The coffee helped, but the interaction with Sarah left a complex residue. He'd maintained his cover, but the brief glimpse of potential connection, of sharing the pressure even abstractly, felt like a missed opportunity. Yet, the risk… He pushed the thought away. Survival first. Always. The Nvidia investigation wasn't going away. It was time for Operation Scorched Earth.
Saturday. Theo didn't leave his apartment. Fuelled by caffeine and paranoia, he executed his digital retreat with ruthless efficiency. He logged into Hardware Nexus, HardForum and the other various forums, using VPNs routed through obscure European servers. He deleted every single sales thread under 'Voltaic', 'SiliconSurfer', and 'ChipChopper'. Where deletion wasn't possible, he edited the original posts, removing all specific details, replacing descriptions with "[SOLD]", marking prices as "$0". He changed profile pictures to generic avatars, scrubbed any personal details (none existed, but he checked obsessively), and submitted account deletion requests, knowing they'd likely be ignored but doing it anyway for the record.
He moved on to payment platforms. Closing the anonymous payment app accounts linked to burner emails was straightforward, the instant bank transfers and payments via app were all through these, so these were relatively easy to digitally scrub. The crypto escrow service was trickier, requiring careful withdrawal of residual dust amounts to a new, untraceable wallet before closing the account. He then physically removed the hard drive from the cheap test PC he'd bought, took it outside to the dumpster behind his building, and smashed it repeatedly against the rusted metal edge until the platters were visibly deformed, then buried the pieces deep within the overflowing bin. Digital hygiene complete.