The team was comprised of a lot of the people Klauss counted as friends, which meant that he had worked with them once, for a period of at least one month, at a previous job.
This period could be adjusted based upon whether or not Klauss formed a bond especially quickly, or, more commonly, the person in question was important, from a networking perspective.
In fact, two of the five friends on his team didn't actually share a common employer, at the same time, with Klauss — they had worked at a place he worked at, in one case three months prior to Klauss joining, and in the other, two weeks.
At their first meeting, which was performed via webcam, even though they all, by laborial happenstance, were residing in Paris at the time, Klauss broke the ice by pointing out how like a crew assembled to save the world they were.
And they were, in the Michael Crichton/Jerry Bruckheimer sense of the word.
- There was Claudia, a small, bird-like girl who had been a secretary who wrote better software than the programmers at most of the firms she'd worked at in the last five years. None of it was ever used by the companies she worked for, but, more often than not, found its' way into a competitor's inner workings
- There was Jimbo, a big American. His webcam picture was actually just a still of his fish tank, but everyone on the call had heard of his size. Jimbo was the muscle of the operation. And the design. He was a lead designer at a prestigious firm who had headquarters in New York, but was allowing him to work a year in their French branch because of his status in the company and his imposing frame. Thanks to France's number of public holidays, Jimbo spent just about as much time in the gym as he did in his office with a view over the Seine, thus ensuring his physique no less mighty than it was in New York, where it was tested daily by fellow pedestrians on the busy sidewalks.
- François, was a handsome French mathematician who had mistakenly joined a web design firm in 2013 and sat in a cube in the corner of the office for four months before anyone figured out that he wasn't a programmer or a designer or anything.
- Françoise, was a beautiful French seamstress, who also had mistakenly joined a web design firm, but whose quick wit and quicker hands made her an excellent dealer in the weekly poker games on Fridays in the office, and so she was kept on, and given a project managers job during normal working hours. Most people in France blamed Paris' complicated street patterns on the high numbers of people working in places in which they didn't intend.
- And there was this other guy. He was tough as nails system administrator, who didn't seem to ever sleep. He went by the handle G0ph3rT1p5 and drank coffee straight out of the filter. His accent was slightly Eastern European, slightly Texan. When he connected to the first meeting, he'd draped a black cloth over his camera.
- Oh, and Klauss. Which made six, technically.
- And this one other guy who simply hung around a lot because he sat quite near Klauss and overheard most conversations he had, whether they were on the phone or on the computer.
In fact, it lasted long enough to get most of them connected, at which point Klauss suggested meeting after work that day, in a little café.
Their second meeting was in a café along the Champs Elysee. Which suited all of them better. Over a few beers and some frites, unbeknownst to themselves, they made that little café along the Champs Elysee synonymous with the sun blowing up, for a whole lot of people.
They began hatching their plan that evening, well into the small hours of the morning, at which point Jimbo, Françoise, François, Claudia, and the guy who wasn't a part of the group but had tagged along and spent the evening drinking on his own a table adjacent to Klauss' team went off to a night club. G0ph3rT1p5 headed back to the office. Or said he was, anyway.
It was Klauss, however, walking home that evening, who came up with the brilliant idea for their mousetrap. Which, as it turned out, was actually going to be a mousetrap.
To be continued...
disclaimer:
So that, man, is that.
We're back.
And one week later, no big lawsuit from Stephen King. Whew.
Yer Weekly Horoscopes.