“Harry!” Jon called out.
Harry Sale was completely oblivious.
“Hey, Harry!” Jon shouted, this time at the top of his lungs. Still, Harry did not so much as turn toward him.
Moving in slow motion, Harry took his keys from his pocket and started to open the front door to his condo. Jon felt a moment of panic. If Harry went inside, he probably would ignore him even if he pounded on the door.
Jon sprinted the last twenty feet and put his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Harry, it’s me!” he said in a ridiculously shrill voice.
Harry blinked as though waking from a sound sleep.
“Jon …. What are you doing here?”
“It’s a long story, Harry. Can I come inside for a minute?”
“I don’t see why not,” Harry said curtly.
When they stepped inside Jon was shocked by Harry’s appearance. Not only had he not shaved in the past three days, he had apparently not even washed.
“You’ll have to excuse me a moment, Jon,” Harry said as he walked toward the bathroom. “I’ve got some major plumbing problems.”
Jon was not amused by his friend’s attempt at humor. Unconsciously he shrugged. He had waited five hours for Harry to show up. Another ten minutes weren’t going to make any difference.
He seated himself on Harry’s sofa and tried to form a plan. He recognized the distracted, faraway look in Harry’s eyes; when he was like this, he would not be receptive to anything that would shift him from his train of thought. His only hope of leading Harry down the desired path was by indirection.
When Harry emerged from the bathroom, he looked more presentable. He had washed and shaved. There were water splatters on his shirt and shaving cream on his collar. His eyes had the same glittering, almost feverish look they’d had when he was designing his new operating system.
Jon couldn’t wait any longer. “Well, tell me about Tartan’s Crag.”
Harry drew back his head and looked at Jon as if he was a man from Mars. “Tell you about Tartan’s Crag?”
“I mean, what did you find at Tartan’s Crag?”
Harry shook his head. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me.”
Harry sat on the sofa opposite Jon and put one leg up. The faraway look was back with a vengeance.
“What would you say if I told you I had access to a quantum computer that has been buried under the earth for sixty million years?”
Nonplussed by Harry’s question, Jon was unable to respond. Harry ignored his friend’s silence and continued.
“And I can’t believe my incredible bad luck! In order to interface with this computer, I need a system at least as powerful as Big Moe. So I guess I’m screwed.”
It was all the opening Jon needed. “Harry, suppose I could get you your job back so you could use Big Moe again?”
Harry snorted in disbelief. “I’m afraid I’ve burning all my bridges at HTPS. They’ve shit-canned me once and for all.”
Jon quickly explained how he had arranged things at HTPS to give Harry’s operating system a second chance.
It was Harry’s turn to be nonplussed. He jumped up from the sofa as though he had received an electrical shock.
“Jon, you’re amazing!” he shouted. He began to pace his living room floor like a wild man. He flailed his arms about and shouted “Hooray!” so loudly that someone in the next condo pounded on the wall. Suddenly he spun about and faced Jon again.
“When is the test?” he asked.
“Six o’clock this evening,” Jon replied.
Harry looked at his watch. “Holy shit! It’s already four-thirty. Let’s get going.”
Five minutes later they were in Jon’s car speeding toward HTPS Industries. On the way there, Jon tried to find out a little more from his friend. “Tell me about this quantum computer, Harry.”
Harry ignored him. A sideways glance at his friend revealed that he was counting out something on the fingers of his left hand. Jon didn’t try again. Harry’s programming mind was in high gear and there was no way of shifting his attention from whatever code was running through his head.
Chapter Sixteen
Jon waited in a leather chair in the main lounge on the sixth floor of Building C. The lounge was just a few doors down from the entrance to the Advanced Programming Division. He drummed his fingers impatiently on the arms of the chair. So far he had spent the entire day waiting and he was getting pretty sick of it. He was extremely annoyed that Balis had not seen fit to give him a security pass for the Advanced Programming Division. Harry had passed through the double doors into the domain of Big Moe, but when he had tried to follow, two armed security guards intervened. One of them accompanied him to the lounge area and instructed him to wait.
As he sat in the leather chair, Jon thought about all the times in his life he had sat staring at a monitor after booting up his PC. If he added up all those hours, how many days of his life would that add up to? Today was pretty much like that. He might as well have spent it staring into an empty screen.
According to Harry, there was much preliminary work required to re-install and initialize his new operating system. “Before I can even start,” he had said, “I’ve got to run through a whole series of validation checks to make sure George Ludwig hasn’t hosed it up again.”
“Are you sure your new operating system will work as you expect it to?” Jon had asked. He tried to relax the worry lines on his brow.
Uncharacteristically, Harry slapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Jon-Boy. It’ll work, no question.” Then he disappeared through the double doors into the Advanced Programming Division.
Shortly before six o’clock, Jon heard the sound of raised voices. He walked over to the door and peered down the hallway. George Ludwig was standing just outside the Advanced Programming Division.
“What the hell do you mean I don’t have clearance?” he shouted. “My office is in this section!”
“I’m sorry,” said the security guard. “Mr. Balis has given strict orders that we are not to let you in today.”
“That son-of-a-bitch!”
George Ludwig stood glaring at the two security guards as if taking their measure before storming the citadel. He muttered something Jon couldn’t make out, then stomped his foot like a six-year-old and stalked angrily away. Jon found Ludwig’s thunderous expression unsettling. The man looked like he was ready to kill someone.
Jon stood in the doorway following the man’s progress. What have I set in motion? he asked himself.
An hour crept by, and then two. Jon tried to pass the time by looking through old copies of the Smithsonian scattered on the table next to his chair. He flipped through the pages but nothing registered. An endless series of “what ifs” were running through his head. What if he was fired? What if he lost touch with Lettie? What if the test worked, but Harry was unable to implement Shor’s Algorithm? What if the test worked, but he didn’t like his new position at HTPS Industries? What if George Ludwig knew about his role in setting up the second test?
But behind these myriad questions was an even larger one. What on earth had Harry been talking about when he spoke of a quantum computer that was sixty million years old? If it were anyone but Harry, Jon would conclude his bizarre claim had been the ravings of a lunatic.
At twenty after eight, Jon heard the murmur of voices coming from the hallway and jumped out of his chair. When he looked out the door he could see two technicians walking down the corridor. He listened closely to their words.
“The increase in processing speed is just too hard to believe,” the first technician said.
“I checked out the benchmarking software very carefully before the test. It was spot-on when I tested it before the initial load,” the second technician answered.
“There must be some variable we’re not considering,” the first technician said. “An increase by a factor of a thousand is just not reasonable.”
The second tech
nician scratched his head. “Well,” he said, “we’ll know for sure when they run the weather simulation program. We’ll have validation to the eleventh decimal position.”
The men disappeared around a corner and out of earshot.
Jon returned to the lounge and, with a sigh of relief, sat down again. What he had heard gave him hope. The thousand-fold increase in processing speed was exactly what Harry had predicted. The big test now would be the weather simulation software. Lettie had told him something about this just the other week. One of the uses for Big Moe was running weather simulation software to make long-term forecasts. A long-term forecast would tie up Big Moe for days at a time. If they ran the simulation software with the new operating system using the same parameters that were used for a previous test on the old system, they would get a real-time test of the speed of Harry’s new operating system.
Another hour passed before Jon again heard voices from the corridor. He went to investigate and saw John Balis and Harry Sale standing outside the double doors of the Advanced Programming Division, surrounded by technicians. Jon had never seen John Balis so happy. The man looked positively buoyant. Harry, on the other hand, was his usual impassive self. Jon could tell that his mind had already moved on to other things.
One of the technicians turned toward Harry, his wide-eyed visage shining with awe. “I just can’t believe the processing speed. Your new OS has turned Big Moe into the world’s most powerful machine.”
Harry’s arms were folded nonchalantly. “Not too shabby for a classical computer,” he said.
The technician was taken aback. “What other kind of computer is there?” he asked.
An enigmatic smile flashed across Harry’s face.
John Balis shook the lead technician’s hand and said, “Excellent work, Sam. You and your crew can go home now.”
“Thanks, Mr. Balis,” he said. Sam and the technicians disappeared quickly down the corridor, leaving Jon and Harry alone with Balis.
“Harry, I want to apologize for suspending you. We were too hasty. And we listened to some bad advice.”
Jon was surprised by the apology. He didn’t think that apologies were part of Balis’ management style. By “bad advice,” he was obviously alluding to George Ludwig.
“There’ll be a substantial bonus in your next paycheck to compensate you for any inconvenience, Harry. And that’s from Benton Reeves himself.”
Balis turned toward Jon. “You did well to come to us, Jon. Report to Building A on Monday. We’ll take it from there.”
After an awkward pause, he added, “Well, I guess that about wraps it up, gentlemen. Thank you for your time.”
Harry stopped him. “If you don’t mind, I really think the load balancing was somewhat short of optimal. I’d like to tweak a few things and get it right on the button.”
“Of course, Harry,” Balis quickly responded. He gave Harry a tight smile then turned to leave.
“Don’t wait up for me, Jon,” Harry said. “I’ve got a million things to do.” He winked. “And it ain’t about load balancing!”
It was after ten o’clock when Jon walked through the parking lot to his car, feeling curiously empty. He had burned the entire day trying to set this up. It had been successful and yet somehow he had gotten the short end of the stick. He almost resented seeing Harry disappear through the doors to the Advanced Programming Division. He had put everything on the line for his friend, and what was his reward? Not so much as a thank you. The whole experience was disappointingly anti-climactic, save for the fact that he was still employed.
As he pulled out of the parking lot, he thought about giving Lettie a call to tell her the news, but it was too late. Just thinking about her comforted him. Maybe he would invite her over to his place for dinner next week. Well, he thought, At least that part of my life is going right.
Chapter Seventeen
Jon Graeme stifled a yawn as he sat in the reception area of Building A. It was nine a.m. on Monday and he had been waiting for just over an hour. The room seemed chilly, and he wondered whether it was the granite walls or the sterile decor. The waiting area would have made a dandy mausoleum. The opulent furnishings had been selected more for display than for comfort.
Jon was beginning to think that John Balis had forgotten about him when he saw an African-American woman approaching. He remembered her from the day he had been hired by HTPS Industries. Her name was Doris Sydnor and she was an administrative assistant in the personnel department. She had a stocky build, streaks of gray in her hair, and wide brown eyes that were friendly, as was her demeanor.
“Jon Graeme?” she asked.
Jon stood and introduced himself.
“Could you come with me?” the woman requested.
Jon followed her out of the reception area and then down a long corridor to her office.
“Have a seat, Jon,” she said as they entered.
She sat behind her desk and began to sort through Jon’s personnel folder. When she reached the page she was looking for, she wrote something on a sticky-note and handed it to him. “That will be your new annual salary.”
Jon couldn’t believe his eyes. The salary increase was over one hundred percent. He had been expecting a raise, but not on this scale.
Doris smiled. “Someone in the front office must like your work. It’s not often that an employee as new as you are gets a promotion like this.”
She got down to the business at hand, updating Jon’s tax, 401K and insurance information. Finally she issued him a new security identification card. He was surprised and relieved to see that it specifically gave him permanent access to the Advanced Programming Division.
“Well, that’s just about it, Jon. You can report to Ted Blume on the sixth floor of Building C. He’ll be your new boss.”
As he took the elevator to the sixth floor of building C, Jon felt a rush of excitement. He had risked everything to help Harry Sale. Not only had he not been fired, but he had also received a payoff far beyond anything he could have expected. People usually worked at HTPS Industry for years before they were promoted into the Advanced Programming Division. He knew for a fact that it had taken Lettie better than five years to earn her place there.
He wanted to celebrate. Maybe he’d take Lettie out, somewhere fancier than Miller’s. The thought made him smile as he rode the shuttle to Building C.
Jon went directly to Ted Blume’s office. He had met the man before. He was affable, middle-aged and quite overweight—most of his extra bulk centered in his Buddha-esque belly. He had a reputation for giving his staff a free hand as long as they were effective but was also for being notoriously hard on people who didn’t get results.
“I didn’t even have to check your personnel folder to know about you, Jon,” Ted said after shaking Jon’s hand and adjusting the suspenders that were clearly an essential accessory. “I’ve already heard plenty about you and, of course, Matt O’Reilly filled me in, too. He had nothing but good things to say about you. And anyone who can pry technical information out of Harry Sale has my respect.”
After another five minutes of casual talk, Ted led him down a corridor to a section Jon had never seen before and showed him his new office.
“I’ll let you get settled in. At one-thirty we’ll have a post-lunch department meeting in the conference room down the hall. I’ll fill you in then on your new responsibilities.”
As soon as he was alone in his new office, Jon went immediately to the large double windows. He had a spectacular view of the park below, with its ornate fountain in the center. In the distance he could see a forest of pines. Lettie had told him she could sometimes see deer from her office. Jon wondered if his new office was close to Lettie’s. He certainly hoped so.
Circling back around his desk, he nearly tripped on a large corrugated box filled with books and papers. He surmised that it belonged to the previous occupant.
He had just seated himself in front of his desk when there was a knock on the door.
It was Lettie. She froze when she saw him at the desk.
“What are you doing here, Jon?”
“This is my new office, starting today,” Jon said. “Isn’t it great?”
Lettie did not reply. She appeared completely dumbfounded. Her mouth gaped open and her eyes were fixed. Jon wasn’t sure what to say.
The look of shock gradually disappeared. Her teeth ground together and her eyes flashed angrily.
“You bastard!” she said. “You absolute bastard! You planned this all along. You just pretended to be a friend. You were after my job.”
It was Jon’s turn to be dumbfounded. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know,” she shouted. She skewered him with her eyes and took three steps forward to pick up the box of books and papers.
“I d-don’t understand,” he stammered. “I really don’t understand.”
“You can just go and ….” She bit down on her lower lip, stopping short of cursing him out. Instead, she snorted in disgust and fled, not bothering to close the door behind her. She just stormed out into the hallway, her heels clicking loudly on the floor.
Jon ran after her, calling out her name. She didn’t turn back. She picked up her pace and rounded the corner on her way to the elevators.
Jon shut the door to his new office, crossed the room to his desk and collapsed into the chair. Why had they given him Lettie’s office?
Later that day Ted Blume filled him in on exactly what had happened. Jon had been promoted to Lettie’s job, Senior Technical Writer for the Advanced Programming Division. Lettie had been demoted to Jon’s old job in the Commercial Programming Division, writing documentation for the ZDX Smart Memory project. And that wasn’t all. George Ludwig had also been demoted to the Commercial Programming Division. His new office would be right across the hall from Lettie’s.
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