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A Foreword by the Author

First things first: the story and characters of

Dev/Null

did not come from me. Theycame from the mind and pen of Lawrence Housel, in his award-winning screenplay, alsonamed

Dev/Null.

Long before I had even heard that name, seeming eons before I wasmade aware of the world in which Guy and Faith and Lil’ John and Perry and DonKirtley inhabited, Larry was laboring on the script, spinning the story out of the fat yarnsin his head, and if this story is a good one (and I suspect it is), Larry deserves 73% of thecredit. I did quite a solid bit of editing on the script, but… well, it’s probably easier towipe around baby’s mouth than it is to actually give

birth

to the little bastard. Larry alsoinserted his own bit of prose into this narrative (see page 11).Guy Anderson, the disgruntled Network Engineer and the ‘hero’ of this story, is a person not unlike Lawrence himself. But I’m also a short, white, over-intelligent alienistwho has a difficult time forming relationships with women, so, really, Guy’s character wasn’t much of a stretch for me, either (though I don’t know much about computers). Iassisted Lawrence on the script, than; after we wrapped filming

Dev/Null

in the latesummer of 2001 I began writing the novel version of the story. I wish I could tell somekind of road-to-Damascus tale about the genesis of the novel idea, but I can’t do that,either. Charlie suggested it to me, and I followed up. Believe it or not, I do actuallyaccomplish some things on my own. I’m about to go take a leak, for example, andnobody had to suggest

that

plan of action to me.Oh, and another thing. I pretty much ripped off the chronological format of thenovel from another source as well;

Roadwork,

a 1981 novel written by Stephen King’s

nom de guerre,

Richard Bachman. It contains a story that is superficially similar to thisone- a middle-aged laundry executive, buffeted by the loss of his son to a brain tumor andthe impending loss of his house to a state highway project, over the span of two monthscalmly and methodically takes his life apart piece by piece. It stretches from November 20, 1973 until January 20, 1974; a neat, square timeline that I couldn’t

quite

duplicate.The concept of that marked passing of time, moving smoothly and steadily andrelentlessly behind Guy Anderson as he struggles and thrashes- that’s a very attractivesymbiosis to me, because, more than any of the half-baked politics Lawrence and Iespouse, more than the love subplot which was clichéd long before we came about, nay,more than all that stuff;

time,

or the lack of it,

is the key element in

Dev/Null

(that’s prettyhackneyed, too. Fuck it)

I would start rapping about time here, and how it keeps onslipping, slipping, slipping into the future, but I won’t. I wouldn’t dream of subjectingyou to my tired musings. All I will say is, when you wake up one morning and take ashower, and look in the foggy mirror, and see that you’ve developed a paunch and a Nixon hairline, well- that’s when you know that, if you haven’t gotten down to businessyet, you’d better climb up off your callused ass and do it. Now.By the way, if you think writing the novel

after

the screenplay is a hugely back-asswards thing to do, you’d be right about that, too. I freely admit it’s not SOP. But thereare, of course, advantages in this approach. Lawrence wrote the original screenplay for

Dev/Null.

Then he and I spent the next four-and-a-half months paring it like a potato-1

shaving this, slicing that, basically deconstructing it, until it was a slim, gleamingcigarette boat of a story (in a screenplay, The Story is God). We filmed the results. Then Igot the deed and the keys to the boat, so all I did was attach a pilothouse, a couple of paddlewheels, passenger berths, smokestacks, a casino, a burlesque, and a good deal of back story, front story, side-story and no-story-just-bullshit. I swelled her up.I’ve never written a novel before. Just thought I’d tell you that before you actuallystarted reading it. About the reading of fiction I ever did as a lad were ‘Choose Your Own Adventure’ books. Wore ‘em out. Had an epiphany as a small lad of nine, in a fourthgrade social studies class of all places. Since then… not much in the way of ‘stories’ (my pejorative word for pretty much anything not absolutely rooted in historical fact). Spent

much

time out of the fiction game. My idea of a novel goes as follows:1.A straight story2.Anywhere from 200 pages (or more), and3.Exhausted blathering done only to fill up all that scary white spaceGuy Anderson is a figure not unlike many of us in life. He feels himself anoutlander, an exile in his own home, a fellow out of place in his baggy skin. All he reallyneeds, of course, is a really good-looking thick young girl to fall in love with him for noapparent reason whatsoever. And then, having proven himself to be beautiful, he also proves himself very effective in the art of destruction. When the unlovable is loved, hegives flower to orange and yellow petals of will, and he is bright and fragrant, but hisgrowth can be traumatic to surrounding weeds. So he scuttles his boats and he fucks somestuff, some property up. It’s kind of fascistic, but so what? The betterment of just oneman is more valuable than all the treasuries.2