"...messages jump out because they are from an address that ends with 'aol.com', the cyberspace neighborhood of parents and children but never of students, hackers, or people who actually work in high-tech."

Neal Stephenson
Cryptonomicon"

I get the oddest emails sometimes.  This time it wan't AOL.com (actually now that I think about it, I don't see aol.com anymore as an email suffex - progress perhaps?) but near enough in the "not businesslike " pecking order.

“Unbelievers always want other people to act like Christians."
-Ender's Shadow, Orson Scott Card

"The founders had gone into business refilling toner cartridges, which was like the 21st century
equivalent of keeping bees or brewing dark, thick beer".

The Things that Make Me Weak and Strange Get Engineered Away, Cory Doctorow

The industry is made up of either gifted techies or smart generalists -- The people who were bored with high school -- the sort of people the teacher was always telling, "Now, ...you could get A's if you really wanted to. Why don't you apply yourself?"  Look for these people -- the talented generalists They're good as project and product managers.

--Douglas Copeland, Microserfs

It's true, some of the best people I have worked with are crazy off the wall....

“Man the is this. Pays Crime. Clothes mother’s his wears General Secretary the.” He waited five seconds, said with the English accent, “I wear a Stetson now” – and waited two more seconds and said softly, “Wake up.” There was a pause so short it might have been only in Trent’s imagination. The InfoNet Relay station said, “Hello, Boss.”

-Daniel Keys Moran, The AI War: Book One, The Big Boost

  The boy awakes to find himself on the Chessboard. And, as always, it is
for the first time.
  The squares, alternately black and white, tumble to the horizon on all
sides. Countless thousands of squares. Smoothly polished, gleaming endlessly
in the white sun.
  There is no sound. Only the weight of nonsound. The terrifying weight of
silence in a great void.
  The boy sits on a white square. He blinks, stretches, and looks curiously
about him. He looks up at the sky, empty but for a huge, round sun. Swollen
a hundred times the size of the sun we know.
  The boy looks at the hard, smooth surface of his perfect white square and
can see only his reflection. He smiles down at the image. It has been a
wonderful rest, and it is certainly a glorious morning. A perfect morning.
Pure and clear and perfect.
  The boy has not the slightest thought of where he is to go, of what he is
to do.
  The others move constantly. At different intervals, in all directions,
keeping always to the white squares. The boy is pleased to have begun on a
white square. Clearly this is a fine beginning. The boy sits beautifully
still for a time. It would be foolish to set out not knowing where one was
to go.
  He watches the others moving through the endlessly alternating maze of
black and white and black, glimmering forever under the hard, white sun.
They are dressed in dull, white cloth which does not, or cannot, reflect the
brilliance of the white squares through which they move so soundlessly. The
boy believes that they are guards. He cannot imagine what there might be for
them to guard in the purity and emptiness of such a place.
  There is no air. There is no sound. The awesome enormity of his
surroundings holds the boy. Black and white and black and white and black.
Sterile and clear, shimmering to infinity.
  The boy sits through the bright, hot morning. It is late in the afternoon
when he first sees the ones who are not guards. They are few, and they are
very far away, but he sees them clearly. Their cloth is black, but they are
set apart from the guards even more certainly by the grace and ease of their
movements. The boy believes that they are thieves but cannot imagine what
their might be for them to steal in such a place. They walk with a fluid
nobility that entrances the boy, and he strains his eyes to watch them until
the last one is only a speck at an immeasurable distance.
  The boy rises without knowing why. He unfolds his long young legs and
walks to a black square. The black squares are empty, and he can look down
the gleaming black diagonal to the far end of the Chessboard.
  The boy walks the black diagonal, but he does not see another thief.
After a time he doubts that he has ever seen one.
                -- Ronald J. Bass: "The Perfect Thief"

You wish to know more about us? Excellent!
After all, knowledge should be free, eh Captain?!

Let's see... about us
...well, we ARE the Crimson Corporation, and the Crimson Corporation is us.

When the Corporation's earnings are up, our quality of life soars, and our benefit packages improve.
The further up the ladder you are, the more you profit individually.

When times are hard, the Corporation must cut costs, usually by laying off employees.

Since everything on our world is Corporation property this means any ex-employee is instantly trespassing and is guilty of  stealing Corporation property such as air and sunlight.

The only appropriate penalty for theft is to feed the furnace.

--Druuge, The Ur Quan Masters

Your effort to remain what you are is what limits you.