MemeMachineGo!

=v= Zed has given a plausible reason for his recent absence, even providing juicy details about escrow. I fell for it, and perhaps you did, too. But then I stumbled onto this:

The manager, behind the thick window, had asked his name.

"Rob," the friend had said.

"Rob? We've already got a Rob. What's your name?"

"Something different?"

"Yes."

"Robert."

"No. We've got a Robert."

"Do you have a Zed?"

He checked his list. "No."

"Okay, then I'm Zed."

For the next two years Rob, a.k.a Zed, lived in an apartment with five other couriers, each paying two hundred dollars a month. None of the roommates even knew the guy on the lease. Rob had no driver's license or identification, no bills to pay in his own name. He took home cash every day under the table, having filled out no employee paperwork. He was known only as Zed.

(From The Immortal Class: Bike Messengers and the Cult of Human Power, by Travis Hugh Culley.)

So, if you're looking for Zed, keep your eyes peeled for a recumbent bike messenger somewhere on the streets of Manhattan.