I found Quinton at the Radio Bean Coffeehouse the other day. That is to say, I had not seen the man in over a year. He was huddled over a notebook computer, typing in small spurts. Normally I wouldn't disturb someone in such a state, but I had not seen the man in so long that I couldn't resist going over.

He looked up as I approached the table. He seemed surprised, but was trying to look like it was just another boring day. "It's been a while, " he said.

I sat down across from him. "I don't mean to bother you, " I said.

"No, please, " he said. He snapped the notebook shut. "I shouldn't be working today anyway. I promised myself some time off."

It was strange, sitting in that crowded, noisy place. Quinton was never someone I was especially fond of. At work we would normally just exchange pleasantries as we passed by one another. Longer conversations would ensure if we were both waiting for a printout, or something like that. You know how it goes.

"So, you still with the company?" Quinton asked me.

"Of course not, " I said. "Who is?"

"I heard Thomas went back, " he told me.

"Who told you that?" I asked.

He thought about that one for a moment. "I can't even remember, " he told me.

"I'm living off of my savings right now, " I said. "But I have an interview next week. It's for a sales job, though, so I don't know."

"You could probably do better, " he told me.

The comment surprised me. Why did Quinton have an opinion one way or the other about what sort of work I deserved? "Well, I'll take what I can get right now, " I said. "Besides, this seems like a good group. They're into data modeling."

"Everyone's into data modeling, " Quinton said.

"They have some clients here already, but they're looking to add more, " I said. "That's what they told me over the phone."

"I didn't mean to say that, " Quinton told me. "It sounds great. I'm sure you'll do fine."

A passing truck splashed some slush against the window. It was one of those February days when the snow we built up over the winter was disintegrating into an ugly mess. I had on a winter coat that I should have taken off before I sat down. It was too warm inside for such gear.

"So what do you have on the go?" I asked Quinton.

"These people, " Quinton said, throwing his hands up in front of his face. He was clearly agitated. "I mean, it's a long story."

"But you're working freelance, I assume, " I said.

"I'm on one contract for now, " he told me. "I should be on more. But I've had to drop a few because of this one client."

"Those are the risks, I suppose, " I said. "Though that's a shame."

"They want too much, " he said. "Let me tell you a story. You come into town, let's say. You're new here. You don't know a soul. And you wander into a place like this. You know, people have heard of this place, so it would make sense. But before you go inside, you want to have a few things worked out. What I mean is, you want to know something about the place, and how you might fit into it."

"I'm not sure I understand, " I said.

"That's what I mean, " Quinton said, angry again. "I don't know what they mean, either. The whole idea is that we produce something that you can look at from your cell phone or whatever so that when you actually get to where you're going you already feel comfortable. Except that you don't know where you want to go. Like I said, you're new in town. Or maybe it's some other town. Some place that nobody has ever even heard of."

I thought about that for a moment, trying to put all the pieces together. "This sounds like something that's been done before, " I said.

"I suggested that as well, " Quinton told me. "Except they say that this is an entirely new concept. 'Think about it, ' they tell me. 'You get a map. Except it's not just a regular map.' This is what they tell me. 'You'll look at this map and you'll know exactly what to expect, wherever you go.'"

"Like I said, I don't think that this is a new idea, " I said.

"That's not the point, anyway, " he said. "What I mean is, I could care less whether or not the idea is new. What they want me to do is to come up with stories. Stories for each place that you might want to visit."

"Now I'm really lost, " I told him.

"It's more a program that will write stories about a certain place, " he said. "It will take the names of people that have visited the place. It will take certain plotlines and weave them together. Give you a narrative about what's been going on wherever you want to go."

"So you have to write a program that makes up stories, " I said.

"Something like that, " Quinton told me. "But they tell me that I won't be making anything up. 'The information is there, ' the say. They mean the information about people who visit this or that place. I'm supposed to pull it from other places. 'You get what you can and fill in the rest, ' they say."

I looked around at all the strangers huddled around tables, all around us. "So these people all have information about them online. And you're supposed to get it and make up stuff about their lives."

"And then you, as the customer, will understand what's going on wherever you visit."

Quinton was under a lot of stress. I could see that. I thought he was more laid back back when we worked together, but maybe I was thinking about things wrong. Maybe he was just as stressed out then as he is now.

"I could see why you wanted a day off, " I said.

"I need to pull myself away from the work and think, " Quinton said.

"We can talk about something else, " I said.

"I'll try, " Quinton said. "Let's give it a shot and see what happens."