Chris Nakashima-Brown is a hot up-and-coming sf writer whose prose is slick, post-Gibsonian, and funny as hell, like Neal Stephenson meets Hunter S. Thompson. His latest story, about the art dealer who supplied Saddam with his kitschy barbarian-art paintings, is up on Infinite Matrix, called "Script-Doctoring the Apocalypse."
Womack turned to look his guest in the eye. It was only then that Friedman looked closely at the Captain's Hawaiian shirt and realized the pattern was a camouflage design carefully woven from graphic designs of the heads of Seventies action heroes: Mr. T, Bruce Lee, Telly Savalas, Charles Bronson.
"Beautiful shirt," said Friedman. "Postmodern Escher-wear."
"Thanks," he answered. "Got it down the street from your gallery. They've got some cool shops up there. You snuck out early that day to party with your boyfriends, so we figured we'd catch up with you this weekend. What we need is for you to help us get some new memes in front of your favorite client."
"Well, you can't just…"
"It's about time," said Womack. "You didn't think you could spend a year working as the Leader's personal shopper without attracting our attention, did you? You're closer to the man than we could ever hope to be."