In contrast, all the summer interns were anxiously awaiting a different segment of the speech. Unencumbered by worry over stock options, they were just hoping their group would be mentioned. The more often their group was talked about (as long as it was in a positive light), the more the group would need to recruit to meet the inevitably increased expectations. This had the desired consequence of improving the interns’ likelihood of receiving full-time offers. Surprisingly for this crowd, nobody had actually studied the correlation between the number of mentions and the number of job offers, but when the rationale for receiving such an anticipated reward was shrouded under such a glaring lack of transparency, there were many tempting straws to grasp.
By the time Xiao reached the podium at center stage, the music had smoothly faded away. As usual, Xiao didn’t waste time on pleasantries. The artificial lights dimmed, and Xiao’s PowerPoint slideshow was projected onto a forty-foot-high screen behind him, which bathed the room in a cyan glow. Xiao shuffled back and forth in front of the projection screen, casting an intimidating larger-than-life shadow. Revenue projections and web site traffic estimates flashed above his head, then were gone within seconds. He didn’t spend much time on the money; the numbers were too large to hold any tangible meaning to anyone in the room. It was enough to know the figures were enormous, and growing.
Next, it was time to discuss the technological accomplishments since the company’s last meeting. Deeply liking and appreciating technology was what made Xiao so well suited for this company. Unlike many other CEOs, Xiao wasn’t afraid of technology or engineers, and instead held a genuine interest in how things at Ubatoo were accomplished, not just the amount of money they brought in. Much to the delight of the employees, the majority of his time was devoted to presenting new milestones attained. He always took advice about which ones to present at these meetings, but the final decision was his, and he chose those he personally found most fascinating. He left it to the Vice Presidents below him to make certain those people who didn’t get mentioned were adequately reassured that their projects were of great importance to the company as well.
“Before I get into what I had planned to say, I just learned that Ubatoo has reached another milestone in the number of servers we have running across the world. The 3,700,000 mark was reached yesterday. That’s the good news—but that was yesterday. Today, I was informed that even with all of these servers, we will face a severe shortage within three years. Assuming we continue to grow as expected, we will need to vastly increase the accumulation of machines just to keep up. Either that, or you all will need to come up with more efficient algorithms to search through all of our content. Think about this, all of you budding stars, the best thing you can do for us is to make us scale upwards. We’ll have more data, more users, and more services than we can keep up with unless we become more efficient. Keep that in mind! But now, congratulate our team for building the world’s most powerful computing cloud. Congratulations all around!”
The auditorium burst into a standing applause. The kudos were well deserved. Had the machines not been put online, the research and the development of new products would have been impossible. What type of scientific playground would it be if there weren’t enough toys to play with?
“We have more good news. Despite immense pressure from our competitors domestically and abroad, we have gained market share in almost every market targeted this quarter. Most notably, I would like to congratulate our team in Beijing. They’ve far surpassed our projections and have handily made Ubatoo the most visited site in all of China.” The screen cut over to a teleconference with the China office, a room packed with smiling employees—a sea of dark hair and neatly pressed white shirts. They waved and cheered gleefully into the camera.
When the polite applause subsided, Xiao continued, “One of the biggest new initiatives we’ve launched is through our London office. It’s a partnership with the British Police.” The faces of the happy employees in China were abruptly replaced by a scraggly group of engineers from the London office—all as equally cheerful and waving as the first group had been.
“After months of negotiations on every aspect of this deal, we have finally started receiving live video feeds from the security cameras placed at many intersections in London. As some of you may know, these cameras are recording day and night, and are being monitored, live, by individuals from within and outside of the police forces.”
The screen now revealed sixteen video feeds.
“What you’re looking at here are video feeds that we’ve archived, and which are being played back from our own servers. We’ve just secured a contract to provide data storage for the video for many of the cameras in London. But, much more importantly to us than the storage, is what we will be doing with this raw footage. We will be creating the tools to automatically analyze the videos. We are going to be launching a massive research initiative to apply the discoveries from our computer vision group to all of these videos. This will be one of the largest computer vision tasks ever undertaken. If all goes well, within three years, we will have access to all the video feeds and will be detecting suspicious actions and tracking criminals both when they are online and now even when they are offline—well, at least in London! If you know any colleagues looking for work in any aspect of computer vision, tell them to start applying here. We’ll be growing this group aggressively. For now, though, I would like to personally give my thanks to the London team. You’ve opened up a brand new chapter for Ubatoo. Well done.”
The standing ovation lasted a full minute. Then, Xiao continued more somberly, “We had hoped to have the same type of video feeds set up in airports across America as well. Unfortunately, that seems to be taking longer than expected. Hopefully we’ll be back on track next quarter and will be providing the same type of services in the U.S. that we do abroad.”
Atiq felt both relief and sadness. Relief, because unlike the last meeting, where he was chided for his slow recruiting, he thankfully was not on the “try harder next time” list today. He had escaped without mention. Sadness, because he knew the VP in charge of obtaining the video feeds from airports around America, and she was a hard worker. Ubatoo executed its part flawlessly, but these large endeavors simply took time. It was hard for their personnel to get a foothold inside U.S. government security agencies. Nonetheless, this would be little consolation to her. She would be feeling the pressure to deliver something that was completely out of her control. It was only a matter of time before Ubatoo worked with the U.S. security agencies, but Xiao also knew that lighting a fire under her would do no irreparable harm, and had the small possibility, in Xiao’s mind at least, of doing some good.
Xiao continued his presentation, “With so many accomplishments, I don’t want to end this meeting on a down note. Here, at Ubatoo, we’ve been lucky not to be caught up in the devastating economic turmoil taking place all around us. But clearly from the e-mails I have received, many of you are worried. Let me simply say this to you, we’re doing fine. You’ve seen the numbers now, so you know we’re actually doing better than fine. Our search, e-mail, phones, and all that we do, keep people coming back to us. In good times, people look to us to buy things for their entertainment and their hobbies, and simply to live their lives. But even now, every day, more and more users are turning to us as things go bad in the economy. People need real information; people need the Internet to find answers. We provide it to them. Through all of your work on your own projects, keep in mind that we empower people. Sometimes, with the amazing amount we accomplish every day, it’s easy to forget what we’ve accomplished overall.”
With that, the slide on the massive screen changed, and simply had the words “Thank You” on it.
The lights didn’t turn on yet. Xiao continued. “Oh, and I almost forgot. To thank you for your hard work, I’d like to give each of you a little economic stimulus of our own. We have bonuses for all of you—yes, that includes our interns and part-time workers—to thank each of
you for the job you are doing. Congratulations to all. Enjoy the rest of your summer. We’ll talk again in the fall. I’m sure we’ll have amazing new updates to share then.”
With that, the lights turned on and the swing music returned. The excitement and joviality came with it. Not only were things going well enough for everyone to get a bonus of $3,500, but Ubatoo was still hiring, was still focused on innovation, and was still making headway into new unexplored areas of research. Success in a time of surrounding failure; they were undeniably blessed.
-A DRIVE THROUGH
THE COUNTRY-
July 16, 2009.
The “rally the troops” meeting was over well in time for dinner. Tonight, because Stephen was dining alone, there would be no negotiating or deciding by committee about where to eat. He selected the Delhi Café. It was a cafeteria he rarely went to since almost no one ever agreed to walk that far across grounds. But this evening he was in the mood to walk outside; last night’s anxious sleep and the non-stop work today were taking their toll. Even more than the work, the phone call with Sebastin had taken a lot out of Stephen. Whenever he had to interact with customers, or any human in a professional capacity, he left the meeting worn out. He would much rather interact with the thousands of computers at Ubatoo. It was certainly simpler and less taxing.
People rarely ventured into the Delhi Café without a native Hindi speaker. The chef, who was recruited straight from Bukhara Restaurant in New Delhi, India, insisted that not only he, but all of his sous-chefs and all his wait staff be brought over, too. None of the frontline spoke English well. The aptly, if not creatively, named Delhi Café, had been informally rated by Zagat’s reviewers, who attended the opening week celebrations via an invitation from Xiao himself. The rumor was that they had told him off the record they would have rated it a 29 (out of 30) for the food, lower on the decor (it was, after all, an office building), and much lower on the service (it was not served at your table). Nonetheless, the expense (free) would likely have been rated well, too.
As he entered the Delhi Café, the warm aromas of heady spices and the massive jumble of crowds in the waiting lines matched his impressions of what India must be like. He took his time trying to make sense of the enormous variety of unfamiliar and daunting food drenched in brilliant colors awaiting him. Eventually, he settled on slow-cooked lamb over saffron-infused rice, with an appetizer of jumbo prawns in a spicy masala from South India. He wasn’t sure what the vegetables were, so he skipped them, much to the annoyance of the servers. Apparently only their Caucasian diners ever skipped the vegetables; everyone else who came took generous helpings of everything.
With dinner piled on his tray, and a sugary sweet bottled drink imported from a part of the world he wouldn’t know how to find on a map, he sat alone and immersed himself in checking e-mail and surfing the Web on his Ubatoo-issued phone. Fifteen minutes later, the chairs surrounding him were taken all at once. With trays full of food, Kohan, Yuri, Andrew, and Rob claimed the empty seats.
Stephen looked up in surprise, “When did you get back?”
“We just got back on grounds a few minutes ago. We looked for you at your desk, but couldn’t find you,” Rob answered.
“So we tracked you on your phone,” Yuri said. “Then went to the cafeteria nearest your location.”
“Clever, eh? That’s the first useful thing for this tracking stuff I’ve ever seen. We’re just going to stalk you from now on,” Rob interjected with a half smile.
“Alright, let’s hear it. Any interesting stories, photographs, or videos to share?” Stephen began, but it was a tactical error to start off so obviously interested.
Nobody responded.
“Anyone going to tell me what happened?” Stephen asked again.
“You should’ve been there,” Andrew said.
“The lamb is awesome,” Kohan said, deliberately changing the subject. He wanted to ensure Stephen didn’t get any details too fast.
“I like the prawns better myself,” Andrew countered.
“No, no. All of you. If you ask me, the soup is best,” Yuri chimed in, taking part in the annoy-Stephen game that was working infuriatingly well. The silly chatter about the food was just beginning.
“We should tell him about the party. Rob, why don’t you tell the story? You’re the star of the night,” Kohan said.
Sigh. “Fine, fine. I’ll wait,” Stephen said, knowing that encouraging them with even the slightest bit of interest would do nothing but prolong the pain. This was his punishment for not going with them last night.
After they moved on to dessert, Stephen tried again. This time, he went straight for the weakest link, Yuri. “So, Yuri, at least maybe you can tell me what party you’re talking about, and what Rob did to become the star of the night?”
Yuri thankfully showed some mercy. “Well, the first part I can tell you about. You’ll have to ask Rob about the rest. We told you we were going to take one of Ubatoo’s vans to Gilroy, right? I sat in back with the computers. I was just using JENNY to watch Monica and Claudine—to make sure they didn’t decide to go to sleep before we got there. They started instant messaging about some party. It was good that I was watching them. Otherwise, they would have been gone by the time we arrived. I looked through their e-mails to find the party address. We went, too.”
Then Andrew took up the story, “It was just after midnight when we got there. Our fearless leaders, Kohan and Rob, led the way. Nobody even noticed us when we walked in.”
“Nobody noticed you? Did Kohan still have his cowboy hat on?” Stephen asked smiling.
“No, thank God. We finally got him to take it off by the time we made it to Gilroy,” Rob replied.
Andrew continued his story, “Kohan went straight for the beer, sans hat, and we lost Yuri to a foosball table.”
“Did any of you see either of those two women you were hunting down, Claudine or Monica?” Stephen asked.
“I found Monica,” Kohan answered.
“What did she say when you introduced yourself as her very own honest-to-goodness deranged stalker? Did you bring up the photographs?”
“No, no. Come on, Stephen. What do you take me for? I just left the door open for her to bring it up herself.”
“And did she?”
“Well, no. That would be a bit awkward, don’t you think? How does one bring that up in casual conversation? We talked for about ten minutes before we were interrupted,” Kohan paused as if waiting for a drum roll, “by Ben Cappiello, the one who started it all.”
At the sound of Ben’s name, Rob’s Pavlovian response must have been triggered, as he abruptly dropped his spoon so he could repeatedly thrust out the middle fingers of both hands along with a torrent of obscenities.
“Precisely. Thank you, Rob,” Kohan said as he nodded his head toward him. “Well, I think you’re already getting an inkling of how the night went. I went to get Rob and Andrew.”
Andrew took over. “The first thing Rob does, without hesitating for a second, he starts screaming like a banshee at this poor guy. ‘You bastard! Great pictures of Monica and Claudine!’ ”
Andrew patted Rob on the back before continuing. “Ben is, of course, clueless as to what’s going on. Then Rob had his shining moment. Rob, being as suave as we’ve all come to expect, tells the gathering crowd all about the pictures that Ben sent out—a blow by blow of the entire web page. I don’t think they knew who created it, Rob or Ben, or why it was being brought up. So, there he was, this intoxicated idiot nobody knew, angrily recounting the pictures, the e-mails, the little contest they had.”
At this point, Rob had a grin on his face and was nodding his head stupidly.
“Nice job,” Stephen said. “Sounds like you made a nice new group of friends.” Though he knew it was unfair of him, he had to wonder how Rob, or even Andrew, made it into Ubatoo. They might be brilliant at their jobs, but outside of work—unbelievable.
Kohan recounted the tale from there. “I think Ben was just
shell-shocked that someone knew about his e-mails and videos. We had to take Rob outside before he started frothing at the mouth. I hope nobody there ever finds out who we were or how we got there.”
“Well, I gave a few people my business card while I was there,” said Yuri. The conversation halted.
“What? Why, Yuri?” asked Rob, incredulously.
“I told a couple of girls I worked at Ubatoo, also,” Andrew volunteered.
“You thought telling them you were an intern at Ubatoo was going to impress them?” Rob asked maliciously.
The conversation continued for a few moments without Stephen. This, this right here, is what it was to be a brilliant intern . . . To pass all the rigorous entrance exams, to be one of the few allowed access to the brightest minds, with the unfathomable amounts of data and resources—and this is what their brain power was focused on. Was he getting too old for this? Maybe. But he wasn’t positive that age had anything to do with it. He’d recruited and managed a group of people this young before. They may not have been as smart as these four, but he didn’t recall hearing about these types of nights either. Would these four be the role models and icons that the next set of interns admired? Had any of the other scientists at Ubatoo had internships like these? He couldn’t imagine they had, but then, there were a lot of things he couldn’t have imagined before he started at Ubatoo. He wanted to go home.
The Silicon Jungle Page 18