“You’re fucking brilliant,” David said, reaching to take a sip of his coffee.
“You’re welcome. The snow report said six inches of fresh powder on Mt. Hood. Should be good.”
“Where’s the rest of the team?”
“Ah, they’re driving up in Melanie’s new truck,” Mike answered. “I thought the two of us would drive together and give the rest of the team a break from their manager and their chief architect.”
David smiled at Mike. “You’re getting people-wise in your old age.”
“Well, I’m not old yet. I’m certainly not an old married man like you.”
Mike headed towards Mt. Hood, about an hour drive away. For a while they drove in companionable silence, heading east on I-84, enjoying the coffee, and the early morning light.
“Where do you want to be in a couple of years?” David asked suddenly, breaking the silence.
Mike glanced sideways at him. “Woah, dude. That’s a weighty question for oh dark thirty.” He paused to consider it. “You know, I’m happy now. I’m working on the most interesting project I can imagine, and, with great people. I’ve got a good manager, even if I have to keep you in line from time to time.”
David smiled at the compliment.
“I’d be happy to be doing more of the same,” Mike went on. “I don’t think I could ask for more. More servers maybe.”
They both chuckled at that.
“How about you?”
“I’ve been thinking about it.” David was quiet for a moment. “Worrying about Gary and his deadline keeps me awake at night.”
“Man, you don’t have to do that. We’ll solve the problem. Or we won’t, and Sean will give us more servers somehow. It’s not worth losing precious sleep over. We all need more of that.”
“It’s not just that. Yes, of course I want ELOPe to be released and the project to be a success. Being hired to run ELOPe was a great break for me.” David paused and shook his head. “No, the real thing is that I don’t want to be under anyone’s thumb like we are with Gary. We’re doing all the work here, and sure we’ll get some credit, but in the end, all of it will go into Gary Mitchell’s bottom line. Meanwhile, we have to take shit from him.”
Mike paused. “What are you thinking?”
“I think we can take the credibility we have right after we release ELOPe. We can build on that, and get the support to do something big from the ground up. A brand new product for Avogadro. Something that won’t get subordinated to Gary. Something that can change the world.”
Mike nodded. “Sure, that would be nice, but --”
“Not just nice,” David cut him off. “It’s what I’m meant to do. I know it deep in my bones.”
Mike glanced over at David, hoping it was just coffee talking, but fearing worse.
Sixty miles east and an hour later, Mike slid down the lift ramp, and then snapped into his bindings. David had already started down the run. Mike jumped to get some forward momentum and followed him down the mountain.
He just didn’t understand David sometimes. David was blindingly brilliant and fun to be friends with. On the other hand, he was so driven, always focused on what was just beyond the horizon, that he seemed to lose sight of where he was.
Damn, David was far ahead of him. Mike bent further to pick up a little more speed. The cold mountain air whistled around the vent holes in his snowboarding helmet.
Mike was amazed how he and David could be immersed in the same situation and see it two completely different ways. Mike was having the best time of his career working on an exciting project with great people. Sure, folks like Gary came along, but that just added to the challenge. David looked at the same situation, and took personal affront at Gary’s influence. Worse, he was starting to see the project as merely a stepping stone to something bigger. What about friendship? What about enjoying the journey?
Mike looked up, and turned the board sideways to stop. When his board crunched to a halt, it was utterly silent in the cold mountain air. The ski run split here, and David was already out of sight. Which way did he go?
“Got a minute?” Mike asked, poking his head into David’s office, a few days later.
“Sure, let me just wrap this up.” David poked and prodded his computer into submission, and then looked up. “What can I do for you?”
It was late Tuesday evening, just three days before Gary’s deadline. Most of the team had stayed through dinner, and David had sprung for pizza for the team. Mike knew the department budget was exhausted from the purchase of a small pool of servers David had bought a few months earlier. That meant David had probably paid for the food out of his own pocket. The engineers were slowly trickling home now, and Mike figured he could get some uninterrupted time with David.
Mike pulled out a guest chair and flipped it around to sit backwards. “I don’t think we can do it. I don’t think there’s anything we can pull off before the end of the week that’s going to let us meet Gary’s ultimatum. I’ve had the whole team focused on it. We’ve run trials of every promising idea we’ve had, and nothing has made a dent.” He crossed his arms on the chair, and waited for David to answer.
David sat, hands steepled in front of him, staring at the window, a curious meld of room reflections and lights from outside. Mike noticed that David was running the RoomLightHack, developed by an Avogadro engineer to override the automatic light switches. The hack had been improved over time, and now it was possible to dim the lights. David had them set very dim.
A minute passed, and it was obvious that David still wasn’t going to say anything. If there was one thing that drove Mike crazy about David, it was his tendency to become uncommunicative exactly when the stakes were highest.
Another minute passed, and Mike started to mentally squirm. “I wish I could find something,” he finally said, “but I don’t know what. There’s this brilliant self-taught Serbian kid who is doing some stuff with artificial intelligence algorithms, and he’s doing it all on his home PC. I’ve been reading his blog, and it sounds like he has some really novel approaches to recommendation systems. But I don’t see any way we could duplicate what he’s doing before the end of the week.” Mike was really grasping at straws. Thin straws at that. He hated to bring bad news to David. “Maybe we can turn down the accuracy of the system. If we use fewer language-goal clusters, we can run with less memory and fewer processor cycles. Maybe…”
“No, don’t do that.”
David’s soft voice floated up out of the dim light, startling Mike.
David had looked up, and was smiling at Mike. “Listen, don’t worry about it. We’ve got a few days. You guys keep working on it. The executive team saw the demo a couple of weeks ago, and they liked it. We don’t want to fool around with the accuracy. It’s working well, and it impressed everyone. Keep the team working on the performance but don’t touch the system accuracy, and I’ll see if I can get the resources we need some other way.”
“Are you sure?” Mike asked quizzically, eyebrows raised.
“Yes, I’m sure. I’ll get the resources we need.” David sounded confident.
Mike left feeling puzzled. The deadline was a couple of days away. What could David possibly have in mind?
After Mike left, David stood up and wandered over to his office window. He looked out at the wet streets, glistening in the street lights. The Portland Streetcar stopped outside the building across the street, picking up a few last stragglers.
On the one hand, Gary Mitchell, Vice President of Communication Products Division, was an idiot with no vision. The irony was that the ELOPe project was intended as a feature to run on the very product that Gary had responsibility for, Avogadro’s email service. AvoMail would gain a killer feature when ELOPe was ready, and though David would gain accolades for developing it, it would be Gary’s group who would benefit financially through added users and additional business. All Gary had to do was support the project in the most minor way possible, and he’d accumulate all the credit.