Cathy Marshall went to have lunch "at an unnamed Silicon Valley company – not the one where the cafeteria is free, but another one, one you've probably never heard of ." To get a visitor's pass, they wanted her to sign a non-disclosure. Hilarity ensues, with a detour to Christmas in Los Angeles and the world-famous Sea Sprite motel, where one visitor is awoken in the middle of the night because his wife has noticed an anomaly:
So the first night we were there, I closed the sliding glass door and pulled down the latch, thinking it was locked. At 2 am I wake up to my wife yelling at me that someone is in bed with me. I look down and there is an asian [sic] girl, about 25 laying next to me dry heaving, or at least I thought she was dry heaving.
Any suspicion that Marshall is practicing the craft of fiction here is easily dispelled. You can look it up. The fact that you can look it up has strange and deep implications.