Chapter 3: Escalation and Observation

Chapter 3: Escalation and Observation

For the next week, the digital front was quiet. Art fell back into the rhythm of his own life, a life measured in compiled code, resolved server tickets, and the satisfying click of his ergonomic keyboard. He was knee-deep in a network security audit for a fintech startup, a lucrative but soul-crushingly tedious project that involved explaining the concept of phishing to marketing executives who still clicked on emails promising a free iPad. The work was demanding, but it was a known quantity. It was logical. It was, unlike his new hobby, entirely sane.

He was in the middle of tracing a particularly stubborn packet loss when the email alert chimed. It wasn't the urgent ping of a work notification, but the softer, more personal tone he'd assigned to his primary inbox. He glanced at his right-hand monitor.

From: Tractor Supply Co. [email protected] Subject: Your Receipt & Loyalty Points Update!

A jolt, sharp and electric, shot through him, instantly clearing the fog of corporate IT drudgery. His lips pulled into a slow, wolfish grin. The bell for round two.

He abandoned the network audit without a second thought. The fintech startup could wait; this was far more important. He clicked open the email, his eyes hungry for the details.

Jedidiah had been shopping again.

• 1 x 10-pack, Electric Fence Insulators… $7.99
• 1 x Spool, High-Tensile Wire, 1/4 mile… $84.99
• 1 x Bag of Tootsie Rolls (Checkout Impulse Purchase)… $2.49

Art snorted at the Tootsie Rolls. A rare moment of weakness for the stoic farmer. A glimpse of the man beneath the flannel. But the important information was at the bottom.

Thank you for your loyalty, Jedidiah! You’ve earned 191 points on this purchase. You now have a total of 888 points.

Art did the quick mental math. Jedidiah, blissfully unaware of Nigel’s expensive taste in snacks, would believe he was now at 1088 points (the 897 he had, plus the new 191). He would think he had finally crested the hill. He had his prize. The glorious $10 discount was his for the taking. The poor bastard was probably walking around his farm right now, feeling like a king, planning his triumphant return to the store.

“Oh, Jed,” Art whispered to his monitor, a feigned note of pity in his voice. “You sweet, simple summer child.”

He logged back into the Tractor Supply account. The password, TractorTroll123, felt more fitting than ever. The dashboard loaded, its garish green and yellow an assault on his minimalist sensibilities. And there it was. The points total: 888. Still tantalizingly short of the 1000-point goal.

He navigated to the ‘Redeem Points’ section with the practiced ease of a seasoned operative. The Convert Points to Product Vouchers! link beckoned like an old friend. He scrolled down to the familiar entry.

Voucher: One (1) 3lb Bag of Purr-fect Catch Cat Treats, Salmon Flavor - 200 points.

He clicked ‘Redeem’. Then ‘Confirm’.

The points total ticked down. 688.

He didn't stop. He clicked ‘Redeem’ again. ‘Confirm’.

The points total dropped once more. 488.

He paused, admiring his handiwork. In less than thirty seconds, he had not only erased Jedidiah’s latest progress but had plunged him even deeper into points-debt. He imagined Jed’s face at the checkout, the triumphant smile slowly dissolving into a mask of pure, slack-jawed confusion. It was a beautiful thought.

He checked the ‘My Vouchers’ section of the account. There were now three of them, stacked neatly in a digital pile. 3 x Purr-fect Catch Cat Treats. Enough to keep the fictional, pregnant gorilla happy for at least a month.

With the immediate threat neutralized, Art’s analytical mind took over. This was no longer just about annoyance; it was a project. And every good project required research. Who was this Jedidiah Stone? The receipts were clues, data points in a scattered set. He needed to assemble them, to build a profile of his unwitting adversary.

He clicked on the ‘Purchase History’ tab. A list of transactions spanning several years appeared, a digital biography written in invoices. Art scrolled, his eyes scanning, processing, building a mosaic of a man’s life.

It was a portrait of relentless practicality.

Seasonal Patterns: In March and April, it was always seeds, fertilizer, and garden hoes. In October, rock salt and snow shovel replacements. In the dead of summer, it was insect repellent and replacement blades for a lawn tractor. The man’s life was dictated by the seasons, an ancient rhythm playing out in a modern corporate database.

Brand Loyalty: Jedidiah was a creature of habit. He only ever bought one brand of engine oil (Valvoline Premium Blue), one brand of dog food (Producer’s Pride Premium 27/15), and one brand of work boot (Wolverine). This wasn't a man who shopped around for a deal; this was a man who found what worked and stuck with it until the heat death of the universe. This loyalty, Art mused, was what made the disappearing points so poetically cruel.

Mechanical Aptitude: There were constant purchases of obscure parts. Spark plugs, gaskets, hydraulic fluid, welding rods, cotter pins. Jedidiah didn't just own machinery; he maintained it. He was a man who fixed things with his own two hands, a concept as foreign to Art as churning butter.

The Buster Profile: Every fourth Saturday, like clockwork, a 50lb bag of Producer’s Pride appeared on the list. Interspersed were purchases for flea and tick collars, a new sturdy leash, and once, a large, indestructible-looking chew toy. Buster was clearly well cared for, the one consistent indulgence in a life of stark utility.

Art leaned back, tapping a pen against his chin. He felt like a digital anthropologist, studying a previously undiscovered tribe. The tribe of Jed. Population: one man, one dog. He could almost picture him: stocky build from years of labor, hands calloused and stained with grease, a permanent squint from staring into the Tennessee sun. A man completely out of his depth the moment he touched anything with a screen. A man who probably still wrote checks at the grocery store.

The profile Art was building made the prank all the more perfect. He wasn't tormenting a fellow digital native who would understand the game. He was haunting a man who likely didn't believe in ghosts, digital or otherwise. How could a man who bought cotter pins and fence insulators possibly comprehend the existence of a 666-pound pregnant gorilla named Nigel living in his loyalty account? He couldn't. The concepts didn't occupy the same reality.

On his main screen, a frantic instant message popped up from his project manager. Art, any update on that packet loss? The client is getting antsy.

Art glanced from the urgent, high-stakes world of his six-figure contract to the low-resolution image of a smiling farmer on the Tractor Supply website. He looked at the meticulously constructed profile of Jedidiah Stone, at the growing pile of cat treat vouchers, at the beautiful, absurd lie of Nigel the gorilla.

He typed a quick reply. Running a deep diagnostic. Complex issue. Will update shortly.

It was a lie, of course. The complex issue wasn't the packet loss. It was deciding what ailment Nigel would develop next. Perhaps a sudden, inexplicable craving for bird seed. The possibilities, he realized with a thrill, were endless. This was infinitely more interesting.