Called Out
Last week’s episode did a lot of blocking and tackling to introduce us to the concept behind the app. This week, we deep dive into the effects of Sherwood on the community. We start with an elderly couple receiving some legal representation that allows them to stay in the apartment they’ve called home for 30 years. A new landlord was trying to push them out with an eye towards selling the postage stamp property for big bucks and leaving them out on the street. While the vignette felt like a self-serving ad within the show for the fictional Sherwood product itself, it did at least connect a few dots as to what the ideal is for the service Jenya has passionately cooked up. It’s essentially Task Rabbit for activist advocacy.
Still, Alphas has taken on a big bite I’m not sure if it can effectively choke down. As opposed to other shows that use the workplace as a backdrop to stage drama, it is asking some core questions about the venture itself and expects viewers to participate. It’s almost functioning as half storytelling and half VC pitch and it’s gone a long way towards convincing me of the viability of the Sherwood product in the hyperactive search for the next big market need. After all, who hasn’t wished for a crowdsourced Bat Signal they could use in times of distress?
Back in the office, Mathilde Hummel huddles with the coders and they quibble about backlog features she needs to do her job effectively. Mathilde is the Community Liaison and bemoans the fact that she doesn’t yet have a community because of delays. She doesn’t want to be cooped up indoors any more than Amrita and Duc want her nosing around their white boards. There’s some real comrade-in-arms chemistry between the two as they brace themselves in the face of the marketeer’s rapid fire “ideations”. Mathilde might be overbearing but she is played with enough self-deprecation and verve by Jackie Froustey so as to not wear out her welcome. Yet.
We are shown how the app operates with a huge screen mounted on the office wall displaying the open Green Balls (cases) that the network of anonymous volunteers is working on. We learn a user may submit a case that gets reviewed en masse. Over time, the case file grows in detail and is voted on to become active through some complicated algorithm that determines what is worthy of Robin Hooding. Then, the system starts the Green Ball rolling and presumably, through the work of the embryonic Merries, justice is served? Color me dubious.
Later, Duc has a quick lunch with his expecting wife Nancy at a local cafeteria place (sous vide tempura?) and there is tension about Duc’s work history at serial startups. He gets scolded for checking messages on his phone and Nancy urges him to find a steadier gig with better hours and less risk. It’s a nice note which belies the often-glamorized world of start-up life where you have an idea and crank out code while munching on bomb carnitas burritos. Lightning then inevitably strikes and everything turns into primo blow, mounds of cash and infidelity so delicious it’s almost worth it. In reality, most startups are grinds with tough hours, sketchy business planning, unaligned expectations, and a lot of turnover as mission criticals get redefined quarter by quarter. Rinsing and repeating for years will take a toll on anyone.
The office is frantic because the latest real time feature that Pascal championed has been rolled out and causing more instability on the platform. Error codes and panicked typing provide a steady drum beat of tension as Jenya keeps Pascal calm, ignores Cabot’s flurry of calls, and helps the team stay focused. She even does some architecting wizardry alongside self-proclaimed code serf Carlo Weeks. She’s a hands-on leader, not merely a ‘visionary’ who invents lofty targets for the rest of the squad to make real. The fires get put out by the end of the day, and Carlo tells the team he’ll finish fixing a few things solo as the others head out for a well-deserved repast.
Over Fukuoka-style Donburri bowls and soju fizzes, Jenya, Mathilde, and Pascal argue over the soul of the Sherwood endeavor. Where Pascal wants to build a successful venture regardless of the product, Jenya is on a mission. To hear her tell it, consumers don’t want to sit back and passively consume. They want to contribute but just don’t know how. Their generation has grown up during a time without a channel for real participation.
Pascal: But voting participation is abysmal. You can’t count on people actually trying, JZ.
Jenya: That’s the bet we’re making - that people want to help fix the world. Everyone is sick of bingeing on calorie free information. Isn’t that why you’re pushing to drive numbers?
Pascal: More users means more opportunity to expand to third party services. Let the consumers decide what they want. That’s what drives this boom.
Jenya: This boom hasn’t created anything of value except ways to buy garbage. People want to do something.
Whether the viewer agrees or not is secondary to the fact that ideological differences are acknowledged, even if they are fuzzy. Mathilde mostly keeps to the sidelines at this dinner and tries to keep the peace while the trio heads off bar hopping. First, to a Speakeasy joint with wood paneling where nü-vintage cocktails in sturdy tumblers are served, then off to an after-hours light painting gallery with a lot of heads nodding along to Squarepusher and Grace Slick mashups. (It sure seemed like a lot of action for a weekday but this is TV and I’m old.)
There’s a fair amount of political chess-playing between the three, with Mathilde counseling Pascal on the right way to grow a business and Pascal warning Jenya to avoid “falling into the same trap as last time.” Jenya assures him she won’t and we are left guessing as to the details. Like everything else in our contemporary experience, his caution seemed to refer to both her professional and personal history.
Back at the office, Carlo is cranking on his keyboard with a little pyramid of GigaBurst Energy mini-bottles piled up in front of him. In between uploading patches and testing, he digs into a few open Green Ball files. Something catches his eye and the next morning, he is still in his seat typing away. His eyes are bloodshot but he’s upright at least. All in a 24-hour day’s work.
The episode finishes with some foreshadowing. A young man and his girlfriend are hassled walking past a group of rowdy guys outside a bar. Some bumping and jostling ensue and the couple tries to move down the block. Three of the guys peel off and start following them, hurling invective and insults.
Incidental Findings
Alphas continues to drip out details about how the app works. It’s tedious for the non-technophiles out there but does provide a realistic enough sounding description of what an app could be. To that end, we learned that:
Sherwood is a peer-to-peer program that includes a cloaking device and manual install that prevents any carrier from knowing it's on your phone. It has end-to-end to encryption so that even Sherwood can’t see user messages. But wait, there’s more:
Existing users can only invite up to two people, and this makes a ‘capsule’. Capsules are checked by some algorithm for virtuous behavior and can be disabled. All users are anonymous and only have ID numbers assigned by the system which is called TRAViS (Targeted Results Algorithmic Vigilance Solution). Ok, fine. I believe the app could be real. More drama please!
You might recognize Duc’s wife Nancy from The Day of Drizzle. I hope we see more of Akiko Boskello, I totes didn’t recognize her without her blue-razz buzz cut!
The opening credits are an acquired taste. At first, I was annoyed by the obvious pull from Godard (notably Pierrot le Fou and Bande à part) but they are growing on me. The coronet call is a nice touch.
The Green Balls are Lincoln Green, natch. Hex #195905. Solid detail.
Amrita is little more than a placeholder at this point. Here’s hoping they give her something to do. At least we got to see Duc fret about buying the wrong off-road stroller.
Did anyone else catch Cabot’s line about the Platt Amendment? I’m missing the reference and Wikipedia didn’t help much.
“It’s milquetoast, Duc. Not MILK toast.”