Tech The New Trap

Los Angeles, 1982. It is a surprisingly quiet night on the streets of Mitch’s neighborhood. All of the children had gone in for the night and he spotted only a few adults hanging out on their front porch from the usual several. He nodded at the group, did a routine quick survey of the yard as he often did when coming and going, unlocked the front door, and continued inside holding two black duffel bags. He proceeds down the hall with both bags in hand, drops one bag off inside one room, closes the door, and, then, takes the other to the kitchen. Inside the kitchen he’s met by eight unclothed women wearing masks and gloves cooking cocaine. The women raise their eyes to meet Mitch’s in acknowledgement, he returns their glance, then moves to survey the cocaine. He opens the bag, removes a bottle, and drops a yellow liquid into the pot declaring softly, “This should make it last longer.” He doesn’t wait for a response from the women, walks out the kitchen leaving the bag, and continues down the hall.

Although Mitch’s exterior form showed no emotions, his interior was on fire. He knew with this liquid he would be on top of the cocaine distribution market. No other dealer was capable of making such a strong substance, he would be invincible. Mitch walks back to the room holding the first duffel bag, leaves the door open, pulls out several stacks of money, and begins running it through the money counter on the table. A sudden knock at the front door stops him. He grabs his pistol he keeps hidden in the room, and walks to the front door. Peeking through the curtain next to the door, he breathes a slight sigh of relief when he sees the knock came from familiar faces stopping by to buy his product. He turns, alerts the women to bag up the product, and as he begins to open the door fully, a stampede of police officers charge him kicking the door with aimed guns and bats. He quickly fires his pistol at one officer and runs down the hallway to the back of the house to escape. He’s stopped midway in his track, stumbling to the floor when he’s met by officers barging in through the back door blocking his exit.

A loud noise from outside his door alarms Phenix sleeping in his bed causing him to open his eyes in bed. The following sounds of loud, forceful shouts and screaming women make Phenix get out of bed and open his door to see what is causing the noise. When he opens his door, he is met with sounds of gunfire and the smell of blood. He sees two dead bodies laying on the floor draining blood. One a cop and the other he recognized as a female worker of his father’s. He continues his vision down the hall and sees his father, Mitch, pinned down by several cops with their knees on his back reciting words and placing him in handcuffs. The cops grab his father up and drag him towards the front door of the house. Starring holes into his father’s back, Mitch turns his head to Phenix as he’s being dragged out the house, stares him hard into his eyes, and says, “Remember what I always tell you, tech is the new trap. Remember...” Cutting him off mid-sentence, the cop knocks Mitch unconscious before he can finish. Phenix watches as his dad, unconscious, is hauled into the back of the cop car.

The woman next door walked up to Phenix with a soft smile and asked if he would like to sit with her. He replied no and in shock of what had just taken place, walked back towards the house. As a step foot inside the door, a fire burst into flames in the kitchen causing flames to move rapidly throughout the room. He ran to the fire screaming in anger taking his anger out on the flames as a huge flame burst out towards him causing him to fall on his back. He looks around as he watches everything around him burst into flames and notices an unfamiliar black object tied to the emergency bag his dad kept by the front door. Remembering his dad’s procedures in cases of emergencies, he grabbed the bag with the unfamiliar book attached, and walked out the front door. Fire trucks pulled up at the scene, firemen rushed out with hoses tending to the fire, and neighbors were outside of their home looking curiously at the scene. Phenix held the bag and book tightly as he walked to his neighbor’s house. He glanced down at the book in his hand reading its title, “For my son” in his father’s handwriting. He stood at the steps of his neighbor’s house and softly said, “I think I want to come with you now.” She places a light blanket across his shoulders, bundles him up, and walks him into her house up the stairs to an empty room.

Sitting now in the empty room on the edge of the bed, Phenix unties the string attached to the book from his bag, places the bag on the floor next to him, and holds the book. He reads the title of the book again and opens it to find a table of contents listing the names of 15 chapters. He turns the page to skim the first chapter, then the next. There are 15 chapters with only 15 pages. One page per chapter. Flipping back to the first chapter, it held a list of directions. It specifies to read a chapter each year on his birthday for the next 15 years. Ironically, his 10th birthday was in only a few hours so continued reading. It read, “Learn how to code.” It went on to explain the importance of coding and how it helps with problem-solving.” He spent the year doing as his father instructed by learning the art of coding. The following year, the next chapter was titled, “Learn the game of chest.” His father explained understanding the game of chess is essential for any business person. Chess is representative of life and in order to win, you must always be one-step ahead of your opponent. The year after, the next title read, “Learn about personal computers.” It went on to explain this industry will soon be worth billions, and, therefore, is essential to learn.

Each chapter was filled with information instructing Phenix on how to build a tech company from scratch. Over the years, he read hundreds of books, listened to Ted Talks, and attended various networking events. Phenix was down to the last two chapters. On his 24th birthday, he read “research the 1980’s crack era, the rise of personal computers, and their similarities.” In his research, he realized many black men profiting millions of dollars in selling crack were no different than the millionaire tech entrepreneurs. The only difference being dependent on one’s perception, one was seen as the new American dream, and the other a plight epidemic in America’s society. He took a very strong interest in the matter and realized what his dad was planning for him. He saved up 5,000 dollars by his 24th birthday like the book instructed in a previous chapter and bought himself a computer.

One year later. Los Angeles, 1997. Phenix was lined up outside the Lakers practice stadium waiting to get a signed autograph from rookie, Kobe Bryant. Kobe smiles and says, “Expect the unexpected today” as he hands Phenix the signed jersey. As he walks into his neighbor’s house, the smell of food instantly fills his nose. A nice feast is perfectly arranged on the table. Smiling widely, he sits across from her, and they eat. They laugh, talk, and reminisce on memories of them through the years when a knock at the door interrupts them. She walks up to the door, opens it, and reads the package labeled “Phenix” on her step. Picking it up, she brings it inside and hands it to Phenix. With food stuffed in his mouth, Phenix asks, “Who was it?” “Well, I couldn’t see anyone at the door but someone must’ve maybe known it was your birthday the package is for you.” Phenix smiles and says, “Ms. Deborah if you got me a birthday present just say it. There’s no need to embarrass me with the thought of someone getting me something. You know I don’t have friends.'' She laughs and hands him the package saying, “It’s not from me.”

Phenix's thoughts race as he thinks about the identity of the package's sender. He excuses himself from the table, takes the package to his room, and closes the door behind him. He opens the package finding a note and a thick envelope. The note read, “This is the last page in your little black book. Congratulations and happy birthday, son. You’ve made it. The envelope is filled with money. Take it and use it as capital to start your tech company. Remember, all I have taught you. Remember, how far you have come. Execute this last chapter and follow the steps laid out for you below.” Opening the envelope, he counts $20,000 dollars cash. He placed the money down and began reading the steps listing how to spend the money. The list told him to take the money to a bank and register for a business account. Buy seven computers and find seven programmers. Phenix knew where to buy computers and made coding buddies from his years attending tech forums. He called them up, gave them his proposition, and they all agreed to work for him. Next, he built a video game that was open world and could recapture the criminal era of the 1950’-80’s. Phenix and his band of coding geeks programmed a sophisticated video game. They made hard copies and sold the game like crack.

Similar to his dad, Phenix had people lined up outside his house ready to buy his product. Mitch knew programming an open-world game was the same effect as the pouring yellow drops on his crack to increase the high for his users. Mitch knew the key to clean success is to tap into this untouched market of the open-world video game. Phenix suddenly realized his dad had always wanted to build a tech company but knew it was only a matter of time before his dirty drug business would catch up to him. He wrote this book for Phenix to finish what he had always wanted to start.

Several months later, a pair of fancy black shoes walk down a dirty hall. Phenix, now 25 years old, sits down in a chair as he looks through a glass window. On the other side, his father sits. They stare at each other, either not moving. His father can tell by Phenix’s fancy, clean-cut appearance that he followed the teachings in his book. Mitch starts to cry. Phenix with the rugged looking black bag beside him, reaches inside, and takes out the little black book. He holds it up to his father. Then, he takes out a coding certification, master chess book, research paper written about the crack era, and more. Phenix holds an envelope with $20,000 dollars inside showing his father. Taking out a Forbes magazine, he holds it to the glass. On its cover, Phenix poses with the name of his tech company in big letters. Phenix picks up the phone, takes a breath, holds it to his ear, and releases the breath saying, “We did it.” Mitch, at a loss for words, responds, “Son. No. You did it.” Mitch places one hand on the cool glass window. Phenix does the same. Both men’s eyes glued to each other. Blinking twice, holding back the tears to itching to fall, Phenix slightly nods his head once in acknowledgement, holds Mitch’s eyes with his own for a few more seconds, slowly hangs up and walks off continuing his father’s and now his life-long mission.

The phrase, “I’m trapped,” has been around for a long time. Before, it was used in reference to the selling of drugs and narcotic products. Now, it is used in reference to the selling of tech and entertainment products. Tech is the new trap.