The Paintball Club

By Harper Greendale

In a world where conformity reigns supreme, "The Paintball Club" takes you on an exhilarating journey into the lives of Edie and her eclectic group of friends who've chosen to defy the ordinary. This gripping tale is not just about smart contracts and digital activism; it'

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Paintball Club
• Release date: Dec 7, 2023
• ISBN: 9789083392509

Book preview

Prologue

J

ohn Smith, a notable figure in the realm of music criticism, had reached his breaking point. As he scrolled through the latest updates regarding Half Moon Pearl’s ever-expanding list of corporate sponsors, his frustration grew to the point that his once-pink, fluffy face turned a deep shade of red. The ongoing commercialization of the music industry and the complicity of some of its biggest stars in the relentless pursuit of profit had pushed him to his limits. John believed that the music he cherished, once a vehicle for dissent and change, was now reduced to a mere commodity, exploited by profit-driven Wall Street-listed companies.

His discontent resonated with many, including his close friend and fellow activist from Mexican descent, Jesús Hernández. Jesús was not only a passionate advocate for change in the music industry, but also a skilled programmer and an occasional hacker. Together, they shared a vision — a vision to reclaim music as a force for social change, to break free from the grip of commercialization, and to return to the days when artists fearlessly challenged the status quo.

Operating from a cramped office in a rundown building in Detroit’s once-vibrant arts district, the MCC (Music Critics Coalition) embodied their unwavering determination. They believed that the time had come for music to transcend its commercial constraints and once again become a beacon of truth, rebellion, and creativity. This was their battle, and they were ready to wage it in the name of music’s very soul.

During a break, as John leaned back in his chair with his boots on his desk, he quoted from the Detroit Herald to his colleague Jesús, expressing his frustration. Listen to this, you won’t believe it. Last night, Half Moon Pearl celebrated her femininity — her what? — with her New York-based fans at a packed Madison Square Garden. Pearl’s rise to stardom, marked by her unforgettable American Idol appearance, now symbolizes the lunar cycle’s themes of renewal and new beginnings — they must be kidding, right? Her music, often centered on love, freedom, and defiance, resonates across cultures and borders. After a brief pause, he added, Have you ever heard such nonsense? What does the lunar cycle have to do with selling two-hundred-dollar tickets to lost souls?

Jesús, seated on a worn-out couch, was reading the same article. You’ve missed the best parts, he chuckled. Half Moon Pearl’s captivating sound has garnered a devoted fan base known as the Pearls. Assembled on the Oyster platform, these fans represent a community of support and empowerment, mirroring the moon’s ability to foster connections and emotional depth. In the background, John made puking sounds, but Jesús just continued. The Pearls fiercely defend their idol - oh yes, we know that don’t we, especially against any attempts to impose traditional gender roles and societal expectations. They stand against the idea of ‘controlling our girls’ — a euphemism for enforcing outdated roles on women.

The only thing that’s truly out of control is the bank account of this extraterrestrial commercial behemoth. ‘Controlling our girls’ as if we have nothing better to occupy our time with, John exclaimed, his tone filled with agitation. Man, I’ve had enough of Half Moon’s expanding commercial empire and the blind adoration she receives from her legion of mesmerized followers. Have you heard she’s now endorsing Adidas too? Why, so these ‘Pearls’ can run faster to the moon and back? How much do you think they pay her, by the way? It’s about time we teach both her and her army of applauding zombies a lesson they won’t so easily forget.

Intrigued by John’s proposal but slightly apprehensive, Jesús folded up his newspaper. What’s your plan exactly, John? And please assure me it won’t lead to a repeat of the last time when we were besieged for months by this horde of bloodthirsty little girls from all corners of the world. The Pearls, goodness gracious, that term barely suffices, why don’t we just call them lunatics? I was afraid to open my inbox every morning, flooded with emails, often with attached songs that wreaked havoc on my connection and system. Moreover, I spent countless hours on the phone explaining that I had never personally ordered those four shipping containers of mouthwash that were inexplicably delivered to my yard. How can any decent person defend against such absurdities?

John outlined his plan: Exactly, my friend, that is why we should approach it differently this time. Hear me out, Jesús. Have you heard about a piece of software created by a secretive group called The Paintball Club?

Part I

Law of Inertia

Late September

T

he soft rays of the setting late September sun painted the top-floor apartment on the Oude Rijn in Leiden with warm hues, creating an inviting atmosphere. From this vantage point, sitting on the windowsill, Edie, a dark-skinned woman in her late twenties, enjoyed an enchanting view of the ancient ‘Burcht’ fortress, standing tall in the heart of the town. The fortress seemed to stand as a silent witness to the passing of time, a testament to the city’s rich history. It was guarded by the large oaks both around it and on top of the hill, visible from nearly everywhere in the city due to their high vantage point. While her housemates Travis and Stella were preparing the Friday dinner in the kitchen, Edie was processing the day she had spent in the shared atelier with her friends and colleagues Sudarshan and Truitje. The designs they were working on were undeniably cutting-edge and aesthetically pleasing, but lately, the concepts they’d been exploring felt deeply personal. They had started incorporating the idea of scars into their designs, portraying reality not as something hidden but as a face-to-face encounter. Scars, they believed, could signify truth, strength, and sometimes even beauty, rather than mere shame. Edie was passionate about using her art to inspire other girls who had experienced similar rites of passage as herself, encouraging them to speak out rather than hide in the shadows. After her ordeal, that she couldn’t help but think about from time to time, her body was shattered, but her mind had grown resilient. She had rebelled against those who subjected her to the painful ritual, including her own family. Eventually, her mother sought help from her sister in Luanda, that married into an affluent family. Her aunt provided shelter and support, enabling Edie to rebuild her life from the age of thirteen. This journey included a private school education, medical treatments and therapy sessions that helped her process her trauma and begin to accept herself, if not directly her family.

During one of her therapy sessions, Edie discovered the power of art, a practice deeply rooted in the history of her people. She decided to leave behind her law studies, move out of her family’s home, and work part-time serving breakfast in one of Luanda’s most upscale hotels to finance her education at the Art Academy. Her family initially hesitated, but eventually respected her decision, understanding her need for independence. They wished her well on her unique path in life, with the assurance that their door would always be open to her.

As Edie’s gaze followed the early leaves gently falling from the oak trees, she contemplated the extraordinary sequence of events that had led her to this northern city, far from her childhood home. A serendipitous meeting with Truitje, a Dutch girl with French roots, at a hotel breakfast had ignited an instant connection between the two women. It felt as though they had always known each other, just without realizing it until now. Truitje’s invitation to come to Leiden, along with her generous offer of housing, had come at the perfect juncture. Edie gathered her modest belongings and embarked on a new chapter in her life.

Edie’s journey had brought her to this beautiful city by the river, where she continued to pursue her passion for art and her mission to empower others. In their cozy shared home with Travis and Stella, they had found a sanctuary amidst the world’s chaos. The living room was adorned with a mix of vintage and modern furniture, reflecting their eclectic tastes. A salvaged bookshelf lined with well-worn novels, art books and technical manuals stood proudly against one wall painted pink, a testament to their insatiable curiosity and creative approach to a household.

Watching how two little girls at the base of the Burcht tried to get a kite up in the air on a windless day, her train of thought was abruptly interrupted by loud bangs emanating from the kitchen. Travis, a medium-sized guy with light-brown hair and a small beard, was vigorously pounding the pizza dough on the wooden kitchen countertop. Stella, a blond girl originally from the shores of Brighton, chided Travis in a friendly manner, ‘Travis, watch the noise! We don’t want to invite any more complaints from our lovely downstairs neighbor, Mrs. Van den Oever.’ She then returned to the task of slicing mushrooms, peppers, red onion, courgette, and feta cheese.

The old oven groaned as it slowly reached its maximum temperature, a necessary step for baking a mouth-watering pizza. A salvaged black transistor radio filled the room with Half Moon’s vibrant voice, playing the empowering ‘Black Pearls’’. Edie, moved by the melody, softly sang to herself, Invisible you’ve felt, in a world so vast and wide, But with each passing day, you’ve grown inside.

With the first pizza warming in the oven, Travis set plates on the table and uncorked a bottle of red wine, a mysterious find from behind the kitchen cupboard pans. Turning to look at Edie, knowing what this song meant to her, Stella turned off the stove and walked towards the window-sill. Wrapping her arms around Edie, together they song the chorus. Emerging from shadows, boldly you stride, Your voice, once a whisper, now echoes with pride. No longer concealed, your spirit takes flight, Illuminating the world with your radiant light.

After the song ended, they held each other briefly and then sat down and helped themselves to a salad of romaine lettuce and some small late season tomatoes, the latter grown on their own balcony. As they enjoyed the food, the air was filled with a sense of comfort. The trio had formed a unique bond over time, blending into a seamless friendship. Edie, with her thoughtful and adventurous spirit, constantly pushed the boundaries of their discussions. Travis, the mysterious figure who had appeared one day and never left, often brought a sense of levity to the group. And Stella, with her calm demeanor and insightful remarks, brought balance to their musings.

As the evening sun descended, its elongated rays casting lingering shadows across the room, the friends delved into discussions about their work, aspirations, and dreams for the future. While Stella and Edie had a clearer sense of the direction they wanted to pursue in the coming years, Travis found himself in a temporary state of uncertainty. He had focused on finding ways to make a living without overexerting himself, leaving ample time for reading, programming, and playing his guitar. As he neared thirty, the lack of a defined path ahead had left him feeling somewhat restless, despite his job at the bookshop just two streets away on Breestraat.

After dinner, it was Travis who broached a question that had been gnawing at him lately. You know, working at the bookstore exposes me to a constant stream of content, be it newspapers, magazines, or books. Have you ever noticed that every newspaper, regardless of the language, seems to be dominated by headlines about Climate Change, corruption scandals, rampant misuse of public funds, privatization schemes gone awry, or authoritarian leaders who behave like angry toddlers? Magazines appear to be mainly focused on who has amassed the most wealth, conveniently ignoring the individuals who paid for it with their underpaid labor or the deteriorating environment they find themselves living in. Meanwhile, in nearly every thriller I wrap in colorful paper for our customers, it feels like there’s a double-digit body count before the corrupt politician or some deranged villain finally meet their well-deserved end…

Edie, still relishing the pleasant evening, encouraged Travis to relax by saying, Here, young man, have some more of this, eh let’s honor it with the label ‘wine’; it sounds like you could use it. Rising from her chair, she moved to sit on Travis’s lap, with her right arm on his shoulders, reflecting on the truth in his words.

Stella nodded in agreement, her eyes revealing a sense of concern. Though I often prefer not to dwell on it because it can be overwhelming, I can’t deny it’s indeed disheartening, Travis. The powerful seem to hold all the cards, and it’s as if they’ve completely forgotten their duty to serve the public, people like you and me. Instead, it feels like they’ve rigged the entire system in their favor, leaving us feeling powerless.

Despite reveling in the warmth of Edie’s proximity, Travis let out a sigh, his face reflecting a mix of frustration and determination. That’s exactly it. And they never seem to tire from selling us the dream that if we stick to the rules, somehow, we’re able to make a change or a difference. While the rules are clearly not applicable to their dealings. I mean, look at us, we have relatively decent jobs, we’re well-educated, and we understand there is theoretical potential for contributing to meaningful change, but at the same time, it doesn’t seem very likely, does it?

Edie now offered a reassuring smile, trying to inject a glimmer of optimism into the conversation. It’s indeed easy to feel overwhelmed by it all. But maybe we should focus on things we can do in the present, rather than dwelling on what we can’t change. Situations might look hopeless occasionally, but I can tell you from experience, they are never really. Travis held her close, getting the reference she was making to her painful past, one of the reasons he treasured Edie’s living with them so much. Stella’s gaze lingered on the ancient fortress outside the window. You’re right, Edie. We should never give up hope and keep our eyes open for possibilities for change.

As the conversation meandered into the evening, the trio moved to the oversized couch. Stella, eager to lift the mood by taking on a less controversial topic, delved into the peculiar incident she encountered that day at work. She explained how her boss had urgently asked her to decompile a smart contract for a car leasing company. It was a mess, she said, shaking her head in disbelief. The implementation was far too extreme. Let me tell you what happened, but to better understand it, please close your eyes for a moment and imagine the following scene: Sixty-five-year-old grandma Birgner from Göttingen, Germany, driving her brand-new leased Mercedes EQS SUV on the way to her son in Hanover. While the grand kids singing in the back, shouting ‘faster, faster!’ and soon doing 230 km/h on the empty A7. So everybody is just having fun. Then out of nowhere, somewhere in a data center, a computer program decides that Grandma Birgner has missed several contractual payments, and escalates immediately, trying to wrangle control of the car out of her hands. Which in this case quite literally meant, shutting down the car remotely, without any warning.

Edie and Travis held their breath for a moment, seeing the horrific scene play out for their eyes. "As a result of this, the car went out like a light, four wheels blocked, no ABS, no ESP, nothing, just three bodies strapped into a 3 ton block of metal, plastic, and rubber cartwheeling and skidding over the motorway. Sparks flying all around - only guided by Newtons first law in full effect.

Wait, wait, Edie interjected, before you proceed, what exactly is a smart contract anyway? Is it one of those investment schemes your life insurer wants you to sign, where they promise you results, but in reality, you end up getting poorer every month? Stella replied, I apologize; I should have explained that earlier. So, a smart contract is essentially a self-executing program that gathers its input from external sources, such as financial transactions or stock quotes, and can take actions based on the instructions programmed into it, dictating how it should process the data. Travis chimed in, saying, It still seems a bit vague. What can it actually do in practical terms? Stella concluded, A smart contract can facilitate various types of transactions, but, as in this case, it can also remotely adjust settings on connected devices. Like electric vehicles, in this case. Intrigued but not wanting to get into the details at that moment, Edie urged Stella to continue with her story.

Please do go on, what about grandma Bruckner, and the kids? The Mercedes, being a Mercedes, delivered grandma Birgner and the kids all shaken but alive, believe it or not. Luckily, airbags are deployed mechanically, independent of the electrical state of the car itself but based on sudden deceleration or impact. So while they suffered from some cuts and bruises and an experience they won’t forget during their lifetime, they’re essentially in one piece and currently in a hospital for observation. The car itself will never drive another inch, though. Thank goodness, what a story! Next time I can spend 200 grand on a car, I definitely go for this one, please write down the make and model. Was there any other collateral damage?

Oh yes, plenty of it: the car pierced a truck full of design furniture and damaged a pillar of a fly-over, the costs will easily be into the millions of euros. And all that because some lazy programmer apparently spent more time checking his timeline instead of running a few simulations. Edie couldn’t help but chuckle. That’s absurd! It’s astonishing how no one thought things through properly.

Stella continued with a mix of frustration and fascination, "And it gets even worse. The programmer who developed the smart contract had his aunt do the mandatory independent review,