I lived in Santa Fe back when I was working for a firm called Strategic Analytics. At the time they were going through this messy patent lawsuit and everyone in upper management was in a bad mood. It seems as if one of their former fellow executives had left the company, joined a competitor, and initiated the lawsuit. It was a bad time to start working at the place, but they had made me the job offer before all this happened, and they weren't about to try and rescind it. Not that I would have bothered to take legal action of my own, mind you. I wasn't all that excited about moving to Santa Fe.

I took up residence in a small apartment complex on Cerrillos Road. The noise of the traffic was constant, but I just wanted to find a place to stay temporarily. As it turned out I ended up spending more time at the office than I did at home, so I didn't bother to move the whole time I was there.

The lawsuit issue was causing all kinds of problems. I was going into the job expecting to do a lot of writing about the company's new product line. Instead, I became a makeshift editor. My first day there they put me in a meeting room with one of my co-workers, a guy named Ross, who explained the whole deal to me. Ross was one of those people who seemed to take nothing seriously, yet spoke in a tone that conveyed the utmost seriousness when it came to teaching others how to do this or that.

The room we were in was tiny, with a small table separating the two of us. Strewn about the table were thick and battered binders.

"So I assume you're familiar with our core products, " Ross said.

"I've seen some stuff online, " I said. "I was supposed to get some kind of training."

Ross laughed at that. "Nobody has time to give anyone training right now, " he said. "But that's fine. You'll learn as you go, I'm sure. They hire good people here."

"It's too bad about what's going on, " I said.

"How much do you know?" Ross asked me.

"Michelle gave me a quick rundown before she sat me down here, " I said. Michelle was the manager who had hired me in the first place.

"Michelle doesn't even know everything that's going on, " he told me. "But that's fine."

"What do you know that she doesn't?" I asked.

Ross shook his head. "There are some stories, " he said. "People you don't know, of course. But these people are going after us hard. I can tell you that much. They have private investigators looking into us. I mean all of us. Everyone who works here."

"I guess I should watch out, then, " I said.

"I'm sure they know about you already, " Ross said. "I'm sure they knew that you were coming in today."

"Crazy stuff, " I said.

Ross pounded on the binder right in front of him. "Well, we have some work to do, " he said. "This is all the old documentation from every product we've put out for the past five years or so. That's about as far back as this lawsuit goes. Anyway, we have some printed manuals here from the old days. But everything is online now, of course. But I've printed all that stuff out as well, to make things easier. What we have to do is read through everything. Sound like fun?"

"It wasn't what I was expecting, " I said.

"The problem is that we have to figure out what they're going to try to use against us, " Ross said. "You know, they're going to look at how we describe certain features of our products in this stuff. And they'll take this or that sentence and try to make it sound like it describes some concept that violates this other company's patents. What we have to do is find this same stuff and build up arguments that will counter their arguments. It's an arms race, you know? Neither of us knows what the other side is doing, so we have to build as much weaponry as possible."

"I don't even know what these patents are, " I told him.

"We'll get you reading those first, of course, " Ross said. "I've written something that summarizes the main points, as well. It will help you wade through some of the more technical aspects of the patents themselves. You know, they're a bit dry and full of nonsense legal stuff."

Our meeting ended pretty much after that. So I spent the next several months doing exactly what Ross described to me. It was horrible, tedious work, and I would usually get back to my apartment at two or three in the morning. Sometimes I didn't sleep, anticipating the alarm that would go off only a few hours later. I took few breaks, especially as the summer months came and went and it became unbearable to go outside, at least unbearable as far as I was concerned. I didn't enjoy the heat.

There was incident in the middle of all of this that I won't soon forget. I was coming home down Cerrillos late one night after another long day. I wasn't paying much attention to my driving, and I ended up veering into one of the lanes going north into town. I didn't even notice until I saw a pair of headlights coming up towards me. I slammed on my brakes and tried to swerve out of the way. The other driver did the same. We managed to avoid hitting each other. But there we were, both out in the middle of the road, turned slightly away from each other at odd angles.

The other driver got out and ran over to me. She was a youngish woman, wearing a black dress and heels. The streetlights reflected off of a strip of jewellery around her neck. It was only then that I noticed that the car was a Porsche coupe. I got out of my own car quickly, knowing already that this was going to be a long and difficult encounter.

"I'm calling the police, " she said.

"Don't do that, " I told her.

"You must be drunk or crazy, " she told me.

"I'm just tired, " I told her. "I work long days."

"We all work long days, " she told me. She took a step closer towards me and tried to smell my breath. "You're not drunk, though."

"I haven't had a drink in weeks, " I said.

"Maybe that's your problem, then, " the woman said.

"I'm truly sorry, " I told her. "I wasn't paying attention. The road is empty tonight."

She looked back and forth around her. "It is empty, isn't it?"

"I live about another mile down, " I told her. "And usually there's plenty of traffic at all hours. So I don't know what's going on."

"It's just one of those nights, I guess, " the woman said. "It's so quiet. Can you hear that?"

"I can't hear a thing, " I told her.

"That's it exactly, " she said.

"I can hear something, I suppose, " I said. "There's always that noise that's everywhere you go. That humming you can't escape. You hear it everywhere."

"That's not noise, " she said. "That's something else. That's just there."

I looked at the Porsche behind her. "I'm sure glad I didn't hit you, " I said.

"You should be, " she said. "My husband's a lawyer. He would have cleaned you out. Especially if I got hurt. You have no idea."

"So what do you do?" I asked her.

"I'm a lawyer, too, " she said. "But I wouldn't have cleaned you out."

"I'll take that as a compliment, " I said.

She reached into her purse and pulled out a cigarette. She tapped it against her other arm. "Do you want a light?" I asked her.

"Not particularly, " she said.

"I don't have one, anyway, " I told her.

"I have these, and I don't even know why, " she said.

"Did you quit?" I said.

"I never even started, " she said. "I meant to. I wanted to start, get up a habit, and then quit."

"We all have plans we never see through, " I told her.

"You've got that right, " she said.

She threw the cigarette on the ground, then crushed it with her heel. "It's nice to be outside, anyway, " she then said.

"I hate it during the day, " I told her.

"It's not that hot here, " she told me.

"It is for me, " I said.

"Well, the nights are nice, " she said.

"They're perfect, " I told her. "It's just the day."