by Alex Schuler
“We’re leapfrogging the competition.” Sam reached across the table and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. Although their relationship was public knowledge, neither was big on displays of affection in the workplace. “I think you need to look at the positives.”
“Such as?” He remained slumped in his chair, eating his lunch. He tried not to think of the plans he’d made for the half-million-dollar bonus awaiting him at the end of the project. That dream now felt indefinitely on hold.
“All of the early tests have already put us well over two thousand miles.”
“So.”
“So? That means the hundred-thousand-mile test will be done well before we complete the last seven.”
“You think so?” Ted closed his eyes and started crunching the estimated distance per test, multiplied by the expected number of attempts needed. He opened his eyes, somewhat disappointed he never bothered to do the math before, and suddenly felt a glimmer of optimism begin to surface. He smiled as he looked at Sam, her eyes sparkling with hope. He began to relax. He grinned as he realized how quickly Sam could snap him back to reality. “Slow and steady wins the race, right?”
“Always.” She smiled and took another tiny bite of her salad. “You should be proud of what we’ve done, Ted. Your spinning lidar is fully integrated into Leapfrog. It’s a game-changer. When we wired it into Athena, I could see the potential, but I could never have predicted how brilliantly it would perform once its full power was unleashed. Have you told Kevin how well it’s performing?”
“Kevin?” Ted glanced around the room, trying to remember which engineer was named Kevin. He was drawing a blank. “We have a Kevin?”
“Kevin. From Nevada. He built that with you, didn’t he?”
“Hallaway?” He was stunned she would suggest such a thing. “That was my design!”
“Okay. Lower your voice. I’m sorry, I just remember seeing it on his workbench. That’s all.”
“I’ve told you, those were my designs Kevin was using.” He tossed half his soda down his throat and closed his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath to calm himself. “The system we have today is lightyears ahead of those original schematics. Why do you keep bringing him up?”
“I don’t keep bringing him up. I rarely mention him. I just thought he’d want to see how far you’ve taken the design. Don’t you stay in touch with him?”
“No.”
“That’s too bad.”
“This entire project is a big secret, remember?” He wiped sour cream from the corners of his mouth. “I couldn’t talk to him about it even if I wanted to.”
“True.”
“Even when the cops stopped us at the top of Lombard Street and wanted to know what all the gizmos were on our car, we couldn’t tell them.”
“Gizmos.” She chuckled as she recalled the conversation. “I had to stop you from going into a longwinded explanation of the technology.”
“You were so fast on your feet. Telling them you were doing mapping research for GSI.”
“I wasn’t lying to them. We continue to refine the EyeSpy program started at Ashton. What amazes me is how quickly they bought it.”
“Why wouldn’t they? The world has no idea that Project Courier exists. They didn’t even know who GSI was. As far as they were concerned, we were just two more geeks out doing geeky stuff.”
“Geeks? Speak for yourself, you big dork.”
A flash of light from outside caught Ted’s attention. He turned to see a small bright red sports car whip around the corner and into the parking lot. Ted scanned the sleek lines of the blunt vehicle and immediately recognized it as a Lotus Elise. The car pulled into a parking spot, and after several seconds, Vin Malik emerged. Ted frowned as he watched him walk away. Something was different about the Lotus. It took a few moments for Ted to realize what he was seeing.
“Holy shit,” he said as he leaned closer to the window. He turned and looked at Sam. “Vin bought a Tesla Roadster.”
“They’re already making them? I thought it was still in development.”
“Tesla showed the prototype a few years ago. They nailed some deal with Lotus to ship them their Elise sports car so they can convert them into electric vehicles. They only started making the production version two months ago. I can’t believe Vin already has one.”
“Vin’s got a lot of connections in the tech world. I’m sure he’s on some VIP list. Maybe we can get him to take us for a test ride.”
“Ride? I want to drive the thing.”
“We predicted this, Ted. Remember? The rise of the EV. It was in our presentation we did in Detroit.”
“Can we not discuss Detroit?”
“Sorry.” She looked outside at the sports car and then back at Ted. “How’re things with your family these days?”
“The same,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Mom is incredibly supportive. She doesn’t really understand what I’m doing here at GSI, but she’s proud of me. But my dad and brothers still feel like I’m somehow betraying the family dynasty.”
“That makes no sense. I’d really hoped they would have come around by now.”
“This gag order on discussing Project Courier makes it impossible to share any details with them. I’ve kept it all high level, but my dad considers me to be a ‘Silicon sellout’ as he likes to call me. There’s just no pleasing him.”
“He’ll come around someday.” She stood up and walked around to his side of the table, resting her arms gently around his shoulder. “I believe in you.”
“I know you do. Thank you.” His plate was now empty, and his notepad stained with streaks of guacamole and tomato juice. “Are we still on for dinner tonight?”
“It will have to be a quick. My mom can’t stay late with Dani.”
“Oh. Right.”
“It’s a school night. We could get takeout and bring it to my place for the three of us to have together. Maybe we can all watch a movie? Would that be okay?”
“Not this time. Let’s hit our usual place. We’ll make it fast.”
***
Donovan’s Pub was a few blocks from Hoover Park, not far from El Camino Real. The bar and restaurant had a retro theme, including a jukebox styled like one from the 1970s, but with the internals of the latest machines. The back corner behind the bar had a pair of pool tables and a few 1980s video games, including Pac Man, Asteroids, and Galaga. The right side of the bar was the formal restaurant, with the rest of the space filled with a mix of booths and high tops. The woodwork was dark walnut accented with golden brass fittings. Stained-glass lights hung from the ceiling, bathing the entire restaurant in a warm, comforting glow.
Ted and Sam were seated in one of the three booths on the bar side of the restaurant, away from the gaming area but close to the jukebox. Donovan’s had a limited menu, but the quality of the food was always excellent. Ted was enjoying a heaping plate of corned beef and cabbage, while Sam had the appetizer-sized shepherd’s pie. Next to them, the jukebox played “I Gotta Feeling” by The Black Eyed Peas. Ted spotted their waiter, Brandon, on the far side of the bar and waved to flag him down.
“Can I help you?” Brandon asked. The waiter seemed stressed as he rushed to their table. “How’s the food?”
“Excellent as always,” Sam replied.
“The food’s okay. It’s the atmosphere.” Ted looked over at the jukebox and frowned. “Can you do something about this music? Do you have any classic rock?”
“The music? Uh, sure. I can look into that. We’re a bit short-staffed tonight. I’m normally behind the bar.”
“The music is annoying,” Ted replied.
Brandon nodded hurriedly, turned, and walked away.
“Did you really need to be such an ass?” Sam asked. “He’s obviously got his hands full.”
“What? It’s his job.” He watched as Brandon walked pas
t the jukebox, stepped behind the bar, and began mixing drinks. “You know how I am about my music.”
“That doesn’t excuse your behavior. What’s with you lately?”
“It’s these challenges.” He sighed as he slid his knife through a chunk of corned beef. “Like I told you at lunch, I feel like we’re moving too slowly.”
“Nonsense. You’ve seen the project plan. We’re a bit behind, but not by much.”
“That’s the problem, Sam. That plan has too much red tape. Vin’s requirements for approving each test are ridiculous. We have to repeat things over and over again before he signs off. How many times have we finished a challenge only to have him review the data logs and reject it and tell us to do it all over again? It’s bullshit.”
“You’ve been butting heads with Vin since day one.”
“Sam, when we complete a challenge and your laptop flashes ‘Course Complete,’ that tells me the challenge is a success. But not in Vin’s eyes. He and that stupid quality team of his always find something in the logs they don’t like.”
“I told you early on that this was going to be a marathon.”
“And here I thought Rusty’s plans were too detailed.”
“Enough about work,” she said. “Let’s talk about the weekend.”
“What about it?”
“What do you mean? My mother is throwing that big charity fundraiser on Saturday. Remember?”
“Is that this weekend?” He frowned as he pushed layers of cabbage around his dish. “I was planning on working to try to get the project moving forward.”
“Working? Ted, you know this event is a big deal.”
“It is?” He realized he’d not only forgotten about the party, but couldn’t remember any of the details about why she felt it was so special. “Why do I need to be there?”
“Seriously?” She flung her fork against the edge of the ceramic casserole dish. The tines chimed as they bounced off the side. She glanced at the dart board–style clock hanging near the jukebox. “Dani and her friends are singing. She’s going to be front and center on stage. You should want to be there, Ted.”
“If it’s that important to you, I can try to swing by.”
“You’re completely missing the point.” She drummed her nails along the curved side of her wineglass. “I’ve told you from the beginning that my family is my world. You need to be a part of that.”
“I thought I was. I love you, Sam.”
“And I love you, Ted. But I feel like I have one life with you and another with my mother and Dani. Getting those two circles to join has proven . . . well, difficult.”
“Don’t blame me. The issue is Catherine.”
“My mother?”
“We both know she’s not my biggest fan.”
“I’ve told you not to take it personally. My dad left her. I was left alone after getting pregnant. She’s just overly protective of me. She’ll come around. But it would help if you made more of an effort, Ted. I mean, if I’m being completely honest, she sees how distant you are with Dani.”
“That’s not true.”
“Really?” She folded her arms and glared at him. “How old is she?”
“What kind of question is that.” He felt his heart begin to race. The look on her face told him she was serious. He was surprised to realize he hadn’t the faintest idea how old her daughter was. “She’s . . . she’s five, right?”
“Six. What grade is she in?” she continued.
“What’s with all the questions?”
“What grade, Ted?”
He paused and looked around the restaurant to see if anyone was staring at them. Sam’s voice continued to escalate with each question. The Black Eyed Peas faded from the background, immediately replaced by “Bad Romance” by Lady Gaga. Ted shot the jukebox a look of disapproval.
“Second. She just started second. Right?”
“She’s in first grade, Ted.”
“Okay, so I was off a bit on my answers. But I was close.”
“Close isn’t good enough. Not after all this time together.” She collected the napkin resting on her lap, wiped her lips, and tossed it over her dinner. “Now do you see why my mother has her doubts?”
“Not really.” He shook his head in frustration. “So, what am I supposed to do?”
“You can start by making more of an effort to play a key role in Dani’s life. The school party this weekend is a great way to start.”
He looked across the table at her. Her anger and disappointment were on full display. He wanted to explain that he’d already ordered his team to work with him the entire weekend. But he realized she wouldn’t understand. “Okay, Sam.”
She stood up and grabbed her purse. “Speaking of which, I need to get home to Dani. Split the check?”
“No, I’ve got it.”
She leaned down and gave him a peck on his cheek before walking quickly out of the restaurant.
He stared at his plate, inhaling the salty scent of beef. Despite this being his favorite meal at this restaurant, he suddenly found himself without an appetite. He closed his eyes and replayed the argument in his mind. He couldn’t understand why she had gotten so upset. He also worried about carving out the time to get to Fremont for the party on Saturday. He didn’t want to disappoint her, but he also couldn’t make his team work the weekend without him.
“Was the shepherd’s pie not to her liking?” Brandon was standing beside the booth, looking at Sam’s plate. “Or will she be back?”
“Where’s my music?” Ted replied.
30
Sam was trying to push down her rising anger as she struggled to stay focused on the team meeting. She so rarely got upset or raised her voice, at least when it came to her work. She had arrived at GSI two years before, bright-eyed and filled with hope, believing she could help change the future of transportation. She still felt that optimism, the feeling that anything is possible if only you set your mind to what needed to be done, she just wished everyone on the team, most notably Ted, felt the same way.
The hallway off the main workspace led to several additional rooms, including four conference rooms. Each room had been given a whimsical name, voted on by the team members. Today they were meeting in “Johnny Five,” the nickname given to the military robot that came to life in the movie Short Circuit. The AI team that submitted the name had launched a fierce campaign to drum up votes in their favor, even building a miniature version of the robot that passed out cards that read vote for me. Ted, in tribute to Harry Palmer, fully supported their choice.
Sam, Ted, Lori, Ralph, and six others were seated around a white oval table. A whiteboard at the end of the room displayed the date: February 10, 2011, and the list of the ten challenges. The list was in a grid, showing the names, number of attempts, and current status for each. The Lombard, Market, and two bridge challenges were shown as complete. Lombard had proven to be the easiest at ten attempts, whereas Market took fifty-two. The upper corner of the board also showed the total miles driven: 67,452.
“As I’ve stated repeatedly, Ted, I must disagree.” Sam stood up, shoving her chair away and sending it rolling back until it bounced off the side wall. She briefly closed her eyes and bit her lower lip to calm herself. “We cannot do these tests in tandem. I’m fine not doing them in the order listed. In fact, it makes sense to do them in a sequence based on how our AI and mapping software will learn and grow. But doing two or more at once is out of the question.”
“I still think you’re wrong.” Ted leaned forward and looked around the table for support, but all eyes were on Sam. “Leapfrog will learn quicker by attacking two different problems at the same time. The Lake Tahoe test is the complete opposite of El Camino Real. I think we will get done faster by doing them concurrently. Assuming Vin’s quality team doesn’t keep shitting on our successes.”
“They’re holding us to a high standard, Ted.”
“Oh, please. The items they are rejecting are irrelevant in the real world. I swear, Sam. Ditch that review team and begin parallel testing the challenges and we can be done in half the time.”
“This isn’t a race.”
“Isn’t it?” He stood up and walked to the board listing the challenges and the status of each. “We’ve gone through El Camino Real seventy-five times already. Seventy-five! We’re racing the clock, Sam.”
“And that’s exactly why we need to do this the right way. Besides, if you really want to go faster, focusing on El Camino Real is the way to do it. We are learning a lot from this challenge. The AI engine keeps getting smarter.” She pointed at Ted’s seat and locked eyes with him. She felt frustrated and disappointed that they were having this same debate again. They had had this very same conversation at least once a month for the past year. “Sit down, please. I want to show you something.”
He reluctantly returned to his chair, falling into the seat, slumped over and obviously angry.
Sam set about connecting her laptop to a panel recessed in the center of the table. The overhead projector buzzed and sputtered as it whirred to life. After a few moments, it went dark.
“Shit,” Sam said softly.
Lori took this as a sign to top off her coffee. She quietly excused herself and walked over to a small table in the corner of the room. A box of bagels sat beside containers of peanut butter and cream cheese. Three thermal carafes lined the back of the table, labeled Regular, Decaf, and Hazelnut. Lori slid her mug under the last one and filled it to the top. She turned to see Ralph standing beside her, picking out a cinnamon-raisin bagel.
“Was he always like this?” Ralph whispered to Lori. “Back at DSU.”
“How so?”
“Was he always such a dick?”
Lori glanced discreetly over her shoulder to be sure Ted was still on the opposite side of the room. She was glad to see him hunched over his notepad, scribbling away, though stopping now and then to tap his pen.