Trade Me (Cyclone #1)(32)
“You floor it. Because you know what? Blake has good insurance. We’re both on it, remember? We signed the forms.”
I laugh uneasily. But I don’t move.
“Do you want me to drive?”
“Yes.” I let out a breath. “Could you?”
We trade places. She adjusts the seat smoothly, and then, when she pulls out of the parking lot, she floors it.
7:09 PM
Hey Blake. I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier.
I don’t think you’re going to crash and burn.
7:11 PM
no?
7:11 PM
No.
I’m actually more worried that I will.
I have no experience with any of this.
How do you do anything?
The stakes are so high.
It’s paralyzing.
What if I completely f*ck everything up?
7:12 PM
You won’t.
7:13 PM
You can’t know that.
7:14 PM
Yes I can
b/c if you get stuck, you’ll ask me
and we’ll figure it out like reasonable people.
7:15 PM
Still no good.
That way I’ll spend more time around you.
I’m trying not to like you.
7:15 PM
Honest question
Does it suck to know failure is inevitable?
7:16 PM
God. You’re so conceited.
7:17 PM
I guess that’s not surprising.
Or entirely unwarranted.
I’m going through the Fernanda materials.
You’re right. You do work hard. And she’s brilliant.
7:17 PM
Why yes
I was something of a genius with her
Thank you for noticing
7:18 PM
Argh. That just made it worse, didn’t it?
I knew I shouldn’t have said anything.
Stupid sense of fairness.
7:19 PM
Wrong.
We just traded
so now it’s your turn to be a genius.
7:20 PM
Here’s a hint
I knew you could be one the day you told me I was full of shit.
Not many people notice that
7:21 PM
Stop it. I’m trying not to like you
Remember?
7:22 PM
Not working out so well for you, is it?
7:22 PM
Jerk.
7:23 PM
That’s English for yes?
7:23 PM
Pretty much.
7:25 PM
Thought so.
9.
TINA
The work I’m doing for Blake doesn’t take me less time than my job in the library; it takes more. Blake’s time estimates were based on his own abilities. But he drew from a storehouse of knowledge that I will never have. If I want to do a creditable job—and I won’t give him the satisfaction of doing anything less—I need to get my feet under me, and do it quickly.
I watch Cyclone launches while I’m brushing my teeth, walking to school, even taking a five-minute break from homework.
The launches are lavish affairs, scripted to the hilt, practiced as much as possible. Alternates are chosen in case of accidents. Blake had his assistant pull out the last twenty launch scripts for me, and it turns out the scripts are a source of far more than just a description of what is supposed to happen. They’re all stored in a proprietary Cyclone format, one that contains prior versions, comments, stage directions—just about everything you can imagine.
Online, there are Cyclone launch groupies, and they’ve made my work easy by breaking the launch into parts. There’s the financials stage, where Adam talks through what Cyclone has accomplished in the last year or so. There’s the refresh stage, where he—or a product engineer—introduces new versions of old products. And then—sometimes, not always—there’s the new product stage.
At some point in this affair, there’s what the groupies call “the Adam and Blake show.” Internal Cyclone documents have adopted the same name. At some point, father and son both end up on the stage, interacting with whatever new toy they have, showing off its features. The more elaborate the gadget, the crazier the script.
During the launch of the Tempest smartphone, Adam was interrupted in the middle of his initial presentation. His phone rang loudly in the middle of a discussion of cloud storage. He looked around and slowly pulled out the as-yet-unannounced phone.
“Yes?” he said shortly, looking around the audience. “This isn’t a good time. I’m kind of busy.”
The audience laughed good-naturedly in response.
Adam’s features changed as he listened. “Where’s Blake? He has detention? This isn’t a good time for that. He was supposed to be here an hour ago.”
Louder laughter erupted.
“Well,” Adam said, “yes, I can understand where you’re coming from, Mr. Whitesend. I’m not trying to argue that my son should have special treatment. Wait. Yes. I am trying to argue that. Can’t he do this next week? He’ll stay twice as long.”
A deeper frown.
“Oh, you already offered that as an option and he said no?” Adam rubbed his forehead. “I see.” He hung up and slid the phone back in his pocket.
“Hey, Adam,” someone yelled from the audience. “What was that?”