by Dianne Emley
“Baines took a look at the game you sent over and you thought it was pretty good, didn’t you?” T. Duke, still sitting with his hands clasped behind his head and his boots crossed on top of the table, crooked his head over his shoulder to look at Baines before returning his attention to the ceiling.
Iris casually followed the direction of T. Duke’s gaze and was surprised by what she saw there. The high ceiling was painted with a trompe l’oeil fresco of winged cherubs staring down from an expansive blue sky strewn with white clouds backlit by yellow sunlight. The painting gave the illusion that the flat ceiling was domed. The cherubs were positioned in a circle and looked as if they were peering down onto the visitors below. Their faces were oddly quirky, even ugly.
“It has some good stuff in it,” Baines said.
Bridget continued. “For Suckers, Kip created a radically different graphics engine that produces mesmerizing three-D modeling with detail that’s unprecedented in the industry. Baines, maybe you’ve noticed in other games that are out there and in our previous Slade Slayer releases, that a surface—like a wall or an alien character—will look solid until you get close to it. Then it disintegrates into blocks of colors—the pixels the image is built with.”
Iris looked away from the ceiling and refocused her attention on the meeting, but something compelled her to take another look. She now knew why the cherubs seemed peculiar—one of them looked like T. Duke. She covertly glanced at the real-life version and again at the other one, to be sure. It was a younger image, but it was him. The cherub flying next to him had a beautiful woman’s face. The two others had the faces of young girls. T. Duke had immortalized himself and his family as heavenly creatures. Iris found the gesture both pompous and touching.
Iris looked more closely at one of the clouds. It was white and puffy like the others, but was irregularly shaped and had a dark shadow behind it. T. Duke spotted Iris looking at the ceiling. She returned her attention to Baines.
Baines’s eyes were bright with the most interest Iris had seen since he’d watched the prostitute get on the elevator. “I know what you mean. But in this game, you can almost get toe-to-toe with your enemies.”
“That’s thanks to Kip’s new graphics engine,” Bridget enthused. “The detail is finer and closer to reality than anything out there.”
Iris looked at Kip. Even though his work was the topic of conversation, he sat with his chair pushed far back from the table as was his habit at meetings. One leg was propped on top of the other, and his arms were folded across his chest with one hand stroking his eyebrow. He slowly and rhythmically rocked his upper body back and forth. His eyes were focused on a point three feet in front of him. He seemed completely detached from the scene, but Iris knew better. She had seen Kip like this before and had also seen him abruptly speak after a long period of silence, interrupting whoever had the floor, and draw the conclusion that no one else had seen or answer the question that had eluded everyone else.
“So you’ve got a promising new product, a stream of revenue, and you think Pandora’s sexy enough to interest investors in an IPO,” T. Duke said. “But even though the computer-games industry has grown twenty-five percent over the past few years, you’re in the middle of an industry shakeout. There’s dozens of small game companies like you out there now. In five years, they’ll be consolidated into a handful of big players.”
“Pandora is going to be one of those players.” Bridget folded her hands in front of her on top of the table as if demonstrating the barrier she was setting around Pandora. “We’re going to do it by making a major commitment to the game platform of the future today. In the early days of computer gaming, the predominant platform was dedicated, stand-alone consoles for interactive video games. Sega and Sony dominated the industry. Today, the primary platform is PC-based with groups of contestants playing over networks. Stand-alone machines offer speed and performance that most networks can’t yet achieve, but the gap is closing. The Pentium opened doors for graphics acceleration development. New technologies are springing up daily, and performance is doubling about once every eighteen months.”
Bridget warmed to her topic. “But games played over PC-based networks will soon be a thing of the past. The gaming platform for the future will be the Internet. Pandora already has a Web site where competitors can play each other, but the number of players is limited and the speed is not there. The race is underway to develop cyberspace arenas where literally millions of PC users separated by thousands of miles will be able to electronically locate opponents in activities ranging from flight simulators to sports competitions to hunt-or-be-hunted games like Suckers.”
T. Duke removed his feet from the table, scooted his chair forward, rested his elbows where his feet had been, and formed a steeple with his hands, pressing the point of it against his long nose as he listened.
Kip was still staring hard into space, rocking and stroking his eyebrow. Once or twice, Iris caught him longingly glancing at the laptop computer, like a punished child might look at his friends playing outside.
Iris listened to Bridget with admiration. Her friend was in control of her subject and the meeting. She was a natural leader and had always been calmly certain about any challenge she undertook. Iris had always envied Bridget’s inbred confidence and had emulated it with mixed success, feeling sometimes as if she were folding the flimsy tabs of elegant paper doll dresses over her own, naked insecurity.
She leaned forward to get a better look at what she at first thought was a dirty smudge on Bridget’s jaw. It appeared to be a bruise that Bridget had tried to conceal with makeup. Her eyes must have conveyed her concern because Bridget casually rested her fingertips against her chin, hiding it.
Bridget lost her train of thought, pausing in her presentation and frowning as she grappled for words. She recovered and now avoided Iris’s eyes, focusing only on T. Duke. “There are currently several heavily financed start-up companies developing cyberspace arenas. My goal is to position Pandora at the vanguard. I’ve already started the process to recruit some of the top system architects in the field.”
“If we build it, they will come,” T. Duke declared. He moved his chair back, pushed himself up with his hands against his knees, walked to the window that formed one wall of the room, and stood there with his hands clasped behind his back. “Legions of anonymous players will be able to slaughter each other in cyberspace.”
Kip finally spoke. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
T. Duke turned and focused his penetrating eyes on Kip. “I’m stating a fact.” He folded his arms across his chest and looked down his big nose at them. “R and D costs money. You think you’ll raise enough with your IPO. I don’t think you will.”
“Of course we will,” Bridget insisted.
T. Duke’s eyebrows shot up as if startled over being asked to put his checkbook away. “Bad timing for an IPO. The market’s dropped close to a thousand points over the past two weeks. If you’re faced with a bear market, Marilyn Monroe wouldn’t look sexy to investors.”
“I see it as an expected and long-overdue correction,” Iris said hopefully. “The worst is over.”
“Whatever you want to call it, there’s a chill in the market. Many analysts claim that we ain’t seen nothin’ yet. The IPO parade has passed you by. Firms who were planning IPOs are pulling back and waiting. Investors have grown skeptical after the rash of offerings by Internet firms that still haven’t turned a profit.”
Iris said, “Granted, there was a lot of foam on the cappuccino with high valuations for Internet companies which had illusory profits. That’s not the case with Pandora.”
“If the dog’s head isn’t in the dish, you’re not going to have any takers for your IPO,” T. Duke said with finality. “Pandora’s living on credit and dreams. You’ve got a good revenue stream, but you’ve overextended yourself and you haven’t spent the five million in venture capital my group invested according to the plan we agreed upon.”
“That’s not true,” Bridget protested. “We hired people, invested in equipment, moved into larger office space—”
“I guess you can call that airplane hangar with that tree house inside it offices.” T. Duke laughed good-naturedly, but his eyes didn’t convey warmth.
“The competition is fierce for good people,” Bridget continued. “I can’t afford top salaries yet so I thought the money was better invested in creating a unique, fun, and supportive working environment.”
“And that’s why you give away food and soft drinks and have in-house baby-sitting and a company basketball court. Does seem like a fun place to work. I see your people spending half the day playing basketball.”
“My people frequently work twelve-hour days, seven days a week. They need someplace to blow off steam.” Bridget glared at T. Duke. “I’m surprised about your lack of enthusiasm over an IPO. The venture capitalist’s goal is to invest in a company, build it, take it public, and realize a return.”
“Dear, believe me,” T. Duke said, “I do want a return on my investment, but an IPO is not the way for Pandora to go.” He again sat down, leaned forward onto the table, and steepled his hands. “I’ve got a better mousetrap for you. I want to make Pandora a wholly owned subsidiary of the Sawyer Company. I’ll either swap Sawyer stock for Pandora or pay you cash outright.”
Iris and Bridget gaped at T. Duke. Kip stopped rocking. Bridget asked the question that was on all their minds. “Why?”
“The Sawyer Company owns several Internet service providers, Web publishing outfits, high-tech magazines, and games firms. My goal is a synergy among the companies I acquire. I see Pandora as a cornerstone of an Internet-based games division. Bridget, you’ll head up the profit center. Kip, you’ll be our resident guru. You’ll be free to design systems to your heart’s content on whatever projects tickle your fancy. I’m prepared to take on your entire staff and give them cash bonuses to stay on, up to a hundred grand to your top people, as well as trade their options in Pandora for Sawyer stock. You know I’m very generous with bonuses to my management. Last year, our MIS Director earned a million-dollar bonus. Our head of publishing earned five hundred thousand. Both of you can do the same. You don’t have to make a decision today. I’m sure you’ll want to think about it.”
“I warned you, Bridget,” Kip said. “You gave him an inch, now he wants everything. The answer is no. Pandora is not for sale.”
T. Duke smiled crookedly. “Forgive me, Kip, but your wife is the majority shareholder and is the only one who can make that decision. I’m prepared to offer seven dollars a share for Pandora. That’s very generous and more than you’d expect to receive as a lay down price in an IPO in these market conditions.”
“That’s barely equal to the equity of the firm,” Iris said.
“We’d easily get more than that from an IPO,” Bridget added.
T. Duke clasped his hands behind his head. “It’s typical for an entrepreneur to overestimate the value of her firm.”
“You don’t get it, do you?” Kip said. “None of you get it. This isn’t about money. It was never about making money. Money was something that just happened. It’s about vision. It’s about doing what we love and having the freedom to do it.”
“You’ll have all the freedom you could ever want.”
“Bull.” Kip put both his feet on the ground. “You try to control Pandora now. If it was up to you, you’d turn the Slade Slayer games into advertising vehicles for the Sawyer Company.” He imitated T. Duke’s Texas accent. “‘How about a nice little ol’ billboard on this street for Computer Nation magazine? What about embedding United Telephone’s logo along this wall, sort of a subliminal suggestion to the game’s players?’” Kip scowled. “You’ve already tried to influence our games’ content.” He again imitated T. Duke. “‘How about less violence, kids? Does Slade Slayer have to use the Lord’s name in vain?’”
T. Duke jabbed his finger angrily in Kip’s direction. “You don’t consider embedding pentagrams into a wall pattern or having a statue of Jesus lifting his robes destructive to the youth of this nation?”
Kip sniggered. “Look how fast his folksy, cornpone act goes sour once he doesn’t get what he wants.”
“No—you think it’s funny, just some sort of big joke. Now you’ve inserted even more sexual content into the game with this Cherry Divine character.”
Kip looked at Baines. “So, my man Baines made it to the tenth level? All right! But I bet you didn’t kill her, did you?”
Baines ignored him.
“All this is part of what made Pandora what it is today,” Bridget interjected. “We’re out there, on the edge. That’s what our customers want, that’s what they like, and that’s why we’re number one. You of all people ought to understand that.”
“It saddens me that you had a perfect opportunity to set a good example for the young people of this nation and you chose to use your brilliant minds and talents to create something sordid.”
Kip stood and began prowling back and forth. “This was a violent world before I developed my first game ten years ago. I think I’m providing a service. Kids can play one of my games, kill dozens of bad guys in cyberspace, release their aggressions, then turn off the computer and go peacefully into the world.”
“T. Duke, I’m confused,” Iris said. “Last year, you approached Pandora with the offer of venture capital knowing full well what the firm was all about, even though you apparently have a problem with the product. Now, instead of encouraging the firm to go public so you can see a return on your investment, you want to shell out more cash to buy it and pay its employees top dollar to stay on. None of this makes good investment sense. If I was a member of your USA Assets group, I’d be angry.”
“When I see a good investment, I pounce. My sole goal in offering to buy Pandora is to own what I consider the best of Pandora—the patents on the games engines and the intellects of Kip and Bridget Cross. It’s the only way I have a prayer of getting back the five million in venture capital my group invested. Five million that you two spent inappropriately.”
“That’s not true,” Bridget said. “I just explained to you how it was spent.”
“Yes, and you conveniently left out the cars and that hilltop mansion and all the other trappings of the good life that you and your husband felt you had to have as newly minted high-tech superstars. The only thing you bring to the table to remedy the situation is an ill-timed IPO. We’re not going to make any money off that. And that’s the bottom line.”
Iris glanced at Bridget who seemed at a loss for words. Kip was pacing sullenly, staring at the carpet, his arms folded across his chest. T. Duke looked irritatingly self-satisfied.
Iris broke the tense silence. “T. Duke, you’ve done a lot of talking about making money, which is why we’re here, after all.”
T. Duke smiled indulgently at her.
“For all your assertions about how you need to show a return on your investments, the Sawyer Company—a hodgepodge of business interests, a few dating from your takeover days—isn’t making money. Any of this so-called synergy that you were talking about not only eludes me, but Wall Street isn’t getting it either. During a bull market, Sawyer stock’s performed poorly. Plus, the firm’s carrying a high level of debt due to these high-priced acquisitions you mentioned. Some analysts have soured on Sawyer stock, and many mutual fund managers are dumping it. If interest rates go up, you could be in a lot of trouble.” She casually crossed her legs.
“Iris, I’m pleased to see you’ve done your homework. You’re a smart lady—and beautiful too, by the way—but darlin’, what’s your point?”
Iris noticed Bridget stiffen at T. Duke’s comment, but she took it in stride. “Why take on more debt to own Pandora? It doesn’t make sense.”
T. Duke stood and gave his trousers a hitch before he strolled across the room. “Iris, anyone who knows me understands that money is what makes T. Duke Sawyer tick. I have a long-term perspective
in terms of the Sawyer Company. Being of the MTV generation, you probably don’t have an appreciation for that sort of thing. As a balance, my venture capital group, USA Assets, is positioned to take advantage of near-term profits.”
“So take your profits, with a Pandora IPO,” Iris said with emotion. “I know the market for IPOs has cooled, but Pandora has a good track record and reputation. USA Assets would see a nice return.”
T. Duke put his hands in his pockets. “Iris, we’ve been over this already.”
“There’s another thing that bothers me,” Iris persisted. “I can’t find any information on USA Assets. I’ve asked around, but no one can tell me who the other partners are. Why the secrecy?”
“Why not?” T. Duke winked at her.
“Iris is right,” Bridget said, looking at her husband, who was still wearing a path into the carpet at the far end of the room. “There are many things that don’t make sense in relation to the Sawyer Company and USA Assets.”
“Bridget, you sound as if you regret having jumped into bed with me. Fact of the matter is, we are in bed and we’ve got a problem.”
Kip stopped pacing and faced T. Duke, his arms straight by his sides. “Enough!” he yelled. “I want you out of my company. I’ll buy you out. How much?”
“You don’t have the ten million I’d ask for my twenty percent stake.”
“Ten million? You only invested five,” Bridget said.
T. Duke shrugged. “USA Assets has entrusted me to show a return on our money.”
Bridget sat erect in her chair. “I’m not interested in being a subsidiary of the Sawyer Company. I’m going to take Pandora public. You’ll get your return on your investment that way.”
Kip bitterly shook his head. “We can buy him out. VC firms call us all the time. We can get ten million. It would be worth it to get him out.”