To: MaxHertz Subject: Re: Your RTX 4090 Listing
Max,Bold proposal. The risk is noted. But I stand by the card's performance.Agreed. Send address and time. I will be there.- Voltaic
The reply came quickly with an address in a well-to-do suburb and a suggested time for Tuesday afternoon. The die was cast.
Before leaving on Tuesday, Theo methodically assembled his anonymity toolkit. This wasn't just about looking presentable, it was about active countermeasures. He pulled on a plain, dark, slightly oversized hoodie, baggy enough to obscure his lean frame and break up his silhouette, generic enough to be utterly forgettable in any brief sighting. A well-worn baseball cap, faded and nondescript, went on next, tugged low over his forehead until the brim cast a deep shadow over his eyes and upper face. He checked his reflection briefly in the dusty mirror, indistinct, unremarkable. Minimal exposure points. He grabbed the boxed GPU, the solid weight a grounding reminder of the thousand-dollar risk he was carrying into potentially hostile territory. Every interaction outside his controlled environment was a calculated gamble. This meeting with MaxHertz felt like walking onto a tightrope without a net, over a pit filled with surveillance equipment. Minimize the attack surface, his inner analyst dictated. Leave no traceable data points. Control the variables.
Tuesday afternoon. Driving his beat-up sedan through the leafy, opulent streets of MaxHertz's neighbourhood felt like piloting a garbage scow through a yacht marina. He hunched lower behind the wheel, acutely aware of how much his noisy, aging car stood out amidst the quiet procession of luxury SUVs and German engineering parked in wide driveways. Infiltrating enemy territory, and this territory was wired. Every sculpted hedge, every gleaming picture window felt like an observation post. He scanned the houses as he drove, cameras were everywhere, high-definition eyes tucked discreetly under eaves, integrated into smart doorbell systems, perched atop gate posts, surveying private domains with silent vigilance. His own license plate felt like a flashing beacon, advertising his presence, practically begging to be logged by a Ring camera or a neighbourhood watch enthusiast jotting down details of the unfamiliar vehicle.
Driving right up to Max's address, parking in his driveway or even directly in front? Unthinkable. Too direct, too easily logged, too memorable. He needed distance, plausible deniability. Three blocks away from the target address, turning onto a quieter intersecting street shaded by mature plane trees, he spotted a potential blind spot, a stretch of curb between two houses where the sightlines from front windows were partially obscured and no obvious cameras seemed pointed directly at the parking spaces. He pulled over behind a large, parked landscaping truck, the spot offering temporary cover. He killed the engine, the sudden silence amplifying the low, persistent thrum of anxiety in his chest, a counterpoint to the distant drone of a leaf blower. He sat for a full sixty seconds, meticulously scanning the street in his mirrors, observing the houses opposite, tracking the slow passage of a woman walking her dog half a block away. No immediate attention drawn. Good. Operational parameters holding.
He retrieved the boxed GPU from the passenger seat, the cardboard feeling slick under his suddenly damp palm. He tucked it securely under his arm, the bulk concealed somewhat by the drape of his hoodie. Pulling the baseball cap lower until the brim nearly touched the bridge of his nose, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his hoodie to avoid leaving casual fingerprints or drawing attention with nervous gestures, he eased out of the car. He locked it quietly, then began the walk, melting into the sidewalk anonymity. He kept his pace even, head slightly bowed, resisting the urge to look around too obviously. Instead, he used peripheral vision, mapping camera locations he passed, noting cars parked in driveways (make, model, potential occupants?), looking for the subtle signs of occupancy, lights on, blinds moving, anything out of the ordinary rhythm of a sleepy Tuesday afternoon. Be the grey man, the mantra repeated in his head. Blend in. Be invisible. Be forgettable. Each footstep on the perfectly edged pavement felt deliberate, a calculated movement across a chessboard where one wrong square could mean checkmate. Finally, he reached the address Max had given, the modern, architecturally designed home with its imposing triple garage. He took a shallow, steadying breath, smoothing his features into practiced neutrality, and walked up the neat bluestone path. Time for the performance. He rang the doorbell, his senses straining, hyper-alert, listening for the tell-tale click of a camera activating above the door.
The door opened. MaxHertz was perhaps in his late forties, sharp eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses, dressed in expensive casual wear. He had an air of intense, focused energy. He offered a curt nod, no handshake.
"Voltaic? You made it. Follow me." His voice was clipped, professional.
He led Theo through a pristine, minimalist house and out to the garage workshop. It wasn't a garage, it was a laboratory. Spotlessly clean, climate-controlled, lined with workbenches, oscilloscopes, soldering stations, and multiple high-end computer rigs in various states of assembly. In the centre sat the test bench Max had described, an imposing open-air chassis showcasing a monstrous CPU cooler, banks of RAM, and multiple power supplies. It looked capable of launching satellites.
"The rig," Max stated unnecessarily. "Let's see the card."
Theo carefully unboxed the 4090 and handed it over. Max inspected it minutely, checking for physical damage, dust, any signs of modification. Finding none, he nodded almost imperceptibly. "Alright. Let's install."
The tension in the workshop was thick enough to taste. Theo stood back, watching Max work with deft, practiced hands, grounding himself, carefully slotting the heavy GPU into the primary PCIe slot, connecting the power cables. The sheer size of the 4090 looked almost comical even in the large test bench. Max booted the system, the RGB lighting flaring to life. Windows loaded instantly.