The moment Jake and I got back to the office—fresh instructions from Administrator in hand—he flopped into his chair like he’d survived a natural disaster.
“We’re stalling,” he said, grinning like a dog who’d just learned about treats. “We’re actually stalling. And on purpose.”
“Yes,” I said, booting my workstation. “We’ve advanced from ‘panic’ to ‘constructive delay.’ It’s progress.”
He tapped his notebook. “Okay, so what’s the plan? Draft a clarification request that’s… clarifying? Or confusing? Or clarifying about why they’re confusing?”
“All of the above,” I said. “Our goal is to send a message that BiOnyx will not interpret quickly.”
Jake nodded solemnly, as if I’d just recited a sacred vow.
Administrator had wanted a “meeting of stakeholders,” which in county language meant “everyone who might be blamed later.” He scheduled it for noon. That gave us three hours to prepare. Enough time to build a small bureaucratic grenade.
Jake spun around in his chair. “We should start with the definitions section. You know—ask them to clarify the meaning of half the words in their email.”
“Yes,” I said. “But strategically.”
I opened a blank document.
(Version 0.1-beta)
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Please define “routine BT4 actions.”
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Please clarify “public-facing operational messaging” as distinct from internal messaging.
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Please specify whether ‘routine actions’ include idle repositioning, task conclusion repositioning, safe-state nudging, and/or parking drift.
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Please define ‘misinterpretation’ as used within the municipal liability context.
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Please delineate between ‘autonomy’ and ‘perceived autonomy.’
Jake read over my shoulder. “Oh this is good. This is the kind of thing that ruins someone’s morning.”
“It ruins several someones’ morning,” I said. “That’s how you know it’s working.”
He pointed at the screen. “Should we ask them to define ‘acting on its own’? Since they banned the phrase?”
“I plan to,” I said, typing:
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Please provide an operational definition for ‘acting on its own,’ as referenced in your prohibited terminology list.
Jake let out a reverent whistle. “You’re a menace.”
“Thank you,” I said.
He tapped his fingers. “We need one that’s totally harmless but sounds terrifying. Like—‘Please confirm whether BT4 units may legally be described as “upright.”’”
I typed it.
He snorted. “No, you didn’t.”
“It’s plausible,” I said. “In the absurd legal sense.”
He bounced in his seat, delighted.
10:45 a.m. — Department Heads Begin to Stir
The hallway outside our office filled with the sounds of various department heads preparing for what would undoubtedly become a three-hour meeting about nothing.
Facilities walked by, muttering.Roads & Bridges discussed budget spreadsheets.Parks carried a stack of laminated signs that read PLEASE DON’T FEED THE GEESE.
McCready stopped at our doorway.
“You boys ready for the nonsense?” he asked.
“No,” I said.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Yes,” Jake said at the same time.
The Sheriff nodded. “Good. You’ll need both energies.”
He walked off.
Jake leaned toward me. “Do you think the commissioners will freak out again?”
“Almost certainly.”
He grinned. “Think they’ll ask if we can do without the Hoppers again?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Think they’ll ask if we can do it without spending money?”
“Absolutely.”
Jake stretched his arms. “I feel like we’re going to need props.”
“Let’s keep it verbal,” I said. “Less chance of physical escalation.”
He laughed.
11:58 a.m. — Conference Room, Again
The same people as yesterday were present, but now joined by:
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Facilities
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Parks
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Roads
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Fire Chief Mendoza
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A representative from Risk Management
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And, for reasons I do not understand, Animal Control
Administrator clapped his hands. “Okay, everyone. Thank you for coming. We are here to determine our coordinated county response to the BiOnyx messaging directive.”
The Parks Director raised her hand. “The what?”
Legal pulled up the email on the projector.
Parks Director read the first sentence and made a face like she’d just bitten aluminum foil. “Oh.”
“Yes,” Legal said. “Oh.”
Administrator looked at me. “Howard, Jake, give us the status update.”
I stood. “The BT4 units remain fully offline, as instructed. However, BiOnyx is dissatisfied with how the shutdown was perceived by the public.”
Roads snorted. “We didn’t do anything.”
“Correct,” I said. “Which puts us at an informational disadvantage.”
Jake chimed in. “They also banned us from saying ‘trying its best.’”
Everyone looked at him.
He added quickly, “Just thought that was important.”
McCready nodded approvingly.
Budget raised his hand. “Let’s be clear. What are our actual options here?”
Legal listed them on the screen:
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Sign the acknowledgment (and admit responsibility).
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Invite a corporate audit (and suffer).
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Request clarification (and stall).
Administrator gestured broadly. “I want us united. How does everyone feel about stalling?”
Roads: “Absolutely.”Parks: “Love it.”Animal Control: “Strongly approve.”Fire Chief Mendoza: “I was born stalling.”Facilities: “We do it by accident all the time, so yes.”Risk Management: “It’s statutorily defensible.”
Administrator beamed. “Good. We have consensus.”
Jake whispered, “This is the most teamwork we’ve seen all year.”
He wasn’t wrong.
The Unexpected Twist
Legal displayed our draft clarification request.The room read through the first six items.
Roads laughed.Parks gasped.Facilities leaned forward, fascinated.Animal Control nodded slowly like someone appreciating the craft in a well-laid trap.Budget whispered, “This is beautiful.”
When they reached item seven (“Please confirm whether BT4 units may legally be described as ‘upright’”), Parks Director put a hand over her mouth and wheezed.
Fire Chief Mendoza wiped tears of joy from her eyes. “They won’t know how to answer that.”
“That’s the point,” I said.
Risk Counsel stood. “Before we finalize this, I need to emphasize: stalling only works if we do it together. If any department responds independently, it may break the strategy.”
Everyone nodded solemnly.
Administrator raised his hand in a ceremonial gesture. “Then this is our path. We delay. We request clarification. We overwhelm them with carefully targeted nonsense.”
Legal cleared her throat. “Before we send anything—let’s have ICT finalize the draft. The request will go out once Howard prepares the official version.”
Jake whispered to me, “Is this… a rebellion?”
“No,” I said. “This is county government operating at maximum efficiency.”
He looked awed.
After the Meeting
Jake and I walked back to the office with the air of soldiers returning from a strategic planning summit.
He bounced on his toes. “We’re actually doing it! We’re all stalling together!”
“It’s a proud day,” I said. “Civil coordination at its finest.”
He sat and pulled his keyboard closer. “We should draft a cover letter. Something that sounds earnest. Like we really tried to understand their email but tragically failed.”
“Yes,” I said. “With sincerity so overwhelming they cannot question it.”
Before we could begin, my phone buzzed.
An email from BiOnyx.
Not a reply.
A new subject line.
“Field Assurance Visit — Tentative Scheduling Inquiry”
Jake looked over my shoulder.
“Oh no.”
“Yes,” I said evenly. “Oh yes.”
Jake swallowed. “They’re coming here?”
“Not yet,” I said. “They’re asking if they should.”
Jake shook his head. “Howard… did our stall backfire?”
“No,” I said. “This isn’t about the stall.”
He blinked. “It’s not?”
“No,” I repeated. “This is about the fact that they assume we’ll panic before they do.”
Jake frowned. “Will we?”
I opened a blank document.
“No,” I said. “But they will.”
He blinked at me. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” I said, adjusting my chair, “that tomorrow is going to be interesting.”
Jake leaned back. “Interesting in a good way?”
“Define ‘good,’” I said.
He didn’t answer.
The BT4 yard camera pinged quietly.Forty-three units sat perfectly still.Obeying.Waiting.
The county had circled the wagons.
BiOnyx just didn’t know it yet.