Blind Tasting

by A. C. Houston

  She brightens. "Want to have a drink? I'd really love to see how they decorated the bar."

  He opens the elegant carved door of the restaurant and lets her walk in ahead of him.

  They are greeted by a thin, elegant woman dressed in black. She's standing at a tall podium of expensive dark wood. "Good evening. Name, please?”

  Becca slips casually by the podium, headed toward the most likely direction for the ladies' room. With unassailable sweetness in her voice she assures the woman, "I'll be right back."

  Cory is left to deal with the hostess of Trilobite, who is not pleased with him at the moment. "We don't have a reservation. We just want to have drinks at the bar."

  The woman barely consults her thin silver computer console on the podium. She regards Cory with beautifully made-up eyes that convey icy civility. "I'm very sorry. The bar is full this evening."

  He surveys the bar quickly. It's fairly full, but not completely. Can he tip the balance in his favor? Becca really wants to be here right now, and Trilobite is definitely more upscale than Fidelio's. By maybe an order of magnitude. He takes a calculated risk and pulls two fifty-dollar bills from his wallet, holding them discreetly between his fingers, but not so discreetly that the woman in black cannot notice them. "Are you sure? We're happy to sit anywhere."

  The woman takes the money. "One moment." She turns and walks into the bar area.

  While he waits for the payoff, he scans the dining room of casually-dressed, affluent-looking diners being tended by wait staff dressed in deep purple pants and tunics. The lighting is low and indirect with intricate bands of LEDs set into the walls; violet and gold seem to predominate in the spectrum. He looks over at the bar, which is a long rectangle of gleaming honey-red hardwood, probably South American. A brushed stainless-steel wine cooler soars twenty feet to the ceiling, racks of wine bottles are visible through the clear glass front of this stately, high-tech storage unit. Rows of sparkling liqueur bottles line LED-lit glass shelves behind the bar.

  Becca returns. She's beaming. "It's awesome. The walls are deep purple near the floor and fade into lavender-white at the ceiling. And there are these round, etched glass and metal sculptures attached to the walls."

  "The trilobites?" Cory guesses.

  She nods and continues. "The basins are done in violet ceramics and the lighting makes wavy reflections on the walls, like you're looking through water."

  The woman in black returns. "This way please."

  She seats them at a tiny table in the corner of the bar. A deep purple waiter presents a drink menu and they peruse it. Becca wants to try the signature martini made with a violet liqueur. Cory decides he'll order a glass of Italian wine from the unusual and extensive Umbrian selection.

  When the waiter returns, he asks to see their I.D.s. Cory knows it's Becca's the guy is worried about, he never gets carded alone, but the protocol nowadays is, if you check one, you check all.

  Becca offers hers to the waiter along with her smiling wood nymph gaze and he melts, returning it to her without having really looked at it.

  The drinks arrive promptly. The martini is a pale lavender liquid garnished with three fresh violets, served in a tall, asymmetrical glass.

  Cory tries his glass of Lungarotti Rubesco Riserva. It's superb. He takes a longer, slower sip, drawing the red wine over his palate, savoring its earthy, spiced mouth, the elegant finish.

  His thoughts return to a problem Pradip brought up at dinner about concurrency. They're trying to go massively parallel in their approach and getting concurrency right is going to matter deeply.

  Becca leans forward and touches his arm. "Isn't that Larry Ellison leaving? With those people?" Her eyes are looking toward the front of the restaurant.

  Cory looks up, but whoever it was is now gone.

  Becca sips more of her purple drink, still distracted by her possible sighting of high-tech royalty. "Doesn't he have a sailboat?" she asks.

  "Yeah, more than one. His latest Oracle-BMW won the America's Cup."

  She takes another sip of her violet martini. "Are you still obsessing over work?"

  "I was." He gazes at her across the table, smiling. "How can you look so polished and perfect after a windblown day on the water?"

  She looks into his eyes, smiling. "Cory? Let's spend the night here in the city."

  He shakes his head. "I need to go into work tomorrow. Pradip and I promised to write a demo for Trish."

  "Come on. You'll have all day for that and besides, you're a super hacker." She's gazing at him seductively, her eyes promising magic.

  "We could come back next weekend. I won't have a demo to write then."

  She sighs. "But it's so romantic here right now."

  He feels his resistance dissolving. "I guess if Rob can feed Snoots and let him out...assuming Rob is even home tonight."

  She watches expectantly as he pulls out his iPhone. Rob is home and quite happy to take Snoots for the night. Becca now wants to linger at Trilobite, so they order more drinks.

  Cory tries his second glass of the excellent Italian wine and decides to pursue what's on his mind.

  "So, I have a crazy idea. You want to live together?"

  "What?"

  "Move into my house. You can replace your two roommates with me and Snoots."

  "We're semi-doing that now." Becca reaches her hand across the table and places it on Cory's, to indicate she is not displeased by his offer.

  "You wouldn't have to keep track of your stuff between two places. And you could have the office for your own room. I really don't use it much." Wanting to make the terms very clear, he adds, "And you'd be saving all your rent money."

  She leans gracefully forward in contemplation. "I just started a new job. I mean."

  "That's true."

  They sit quietly. She withdraws her hand to pick up her martini glass.

  "Can I think about it?"

  "Sure." He watches her face, wondering what she's really thinking.

  He's become aware of several guys at the bar glancing at Becca. He doesn't know why she singled him out that day at Cafe Borrone, or why things clicked between them so fast. He only knows that he wants to make her happy.

  Cory awakens to bright sunlight. It's pouring in the large windows of the high-ceilinged Edwardian hotel room he paid three hundred dollars for last night. He sits up and flexes his back and arms, enjoying the feel of the fine, smooth sheets against his bare skin. Becca is asleep next to him in the grand, canopied bed. The contours of her slender body are evident beneath the french linen.

  She's lying face down, her abundant hair spread across the pillows, her long graceful arms, extended like a dancer's, framing her head. One shoulder is bare and he admires the fine bones of the shoulder blade, remembering the feel of her soft, firm skin against him. He glances at the clock on the table next to the bed. Almost ten. Shit.

  Feeling a jolt of adrenaline, he gently shakes her pretty shoulder. "Hey, Beccacelli. Are you awake?"

  She stirs and rolls over on her side to look at him, slit-eyed and seductive.

  "What?" she murmurs in a voice husky with sleep.

  He strokes her head. Her beauty in the morning light amid the tangle of sheets is bewitching, but he's thinking about work. "It's late. I've got hours of hacking ahead of me. Pradip probably expected me an hour ago and it'll take an hour to drive back to the peninsula."

  She stretches luxuriously, catlike. "Not yet," she pleads drowsily, unconcerned.

  "Becca, I really have to do this."

  She drapes her arms around his neck, drawing him to her. They begin to kiss. He's enjoying it, but he can't give in to these urges right now. She opens her mouth against his to kiss him more deeply. He yanks the sheet away so their bare skin is in full contact and she rolls over on top of him, letting her long hair spill across his chest. He moves his hands over her smooth skin and pulls her tightly against him. Pradip will have to wait a little longer.

  Chapter Seven

 
; VisualAxioms. It's Monday morning, a little before nine and Cory is still at his desk, typing rapidly at his keyboard. He's been here all night. So has Pradip. But, Trish's demo is nearly finished and they will have time to go through it with her before the meeting tomorrow.

  He rubs his eyes and arches his back, then picks up a can of Guru and downs the remains of the energy drink. He feels tired, buzzed and grubby. He runs his hands through his hair, across his face. He needs a shave but there's no time right now. Fortunately, he remembered to call Rob to let Snoots out and feed him.

  As he waits for the compiler to finish, he recalls Saturday night. That evening had cost him almost six hundred dollars. Dinner, Trilobite and a four-star hotel on Nob Hill. Working here through the wee hours last night, he'd missed Becca, her warmth. So why does it sometimes feel as though he is waiting to get a grade from her? He shakes his head. Stop thinking about this, you're fried.

  Jo pokes her head into his doorway. "Meeting in five. Conference room."

  He nods at her without looking up from the screen. The compilation is finished. He runs the executable and the visualization demo pops up. He selects an interface option, quickly surveying the animation that illustrates different time values for various graphical search algorithms. He fast-forwards through another animation that presents an overview of the object recognition problem, major developments in its history and where VisualAxioms is now. It's a damn decent demo for sixteen hours of work, but it would have been better if they hadn't had to write it in the first place.

  He fires off email to Trish, stands up and stretches. He's already ten minutes late to the meeting.

  When he enters the conference room, everyone else is already there. Trish is sitting on one side of the table opposite John and Pradip. Richard is pacing at the head of it. Why does Richard always look vaguely peeved. Cory goes to the far end and sits down.

  Richard stops pacing and directs his eyes at Cory. "So, we're all here. I'll cut to the chase. Price, Goodwill and Darington will not be providing us with another round of funding."

  There is a moment of complete silence. Adrenalin jangles through Cory's tired body. He looks at Trish and notes that she does not look surprised. He breaks the silence. "What about the meeting tomorrow?"

  Richard shakes his head. "It's a shame. The media folks are bailing. They called this morning."

  Cory is surprised by his own emotion as he defends their work. "This is ground-breaking technology. It has major implications for the accurate searching and identification of images on a scale never done before. Richard, Duncan's vision of this is what got the investors excited in the first place."

  Richard frowns. "Unfortunately, they have now reached the conclusion that scene analysis is too narrow a focus They are becoming concerned about the time frame, the exit, the opportunity costs."

  Trish has been watching Cory's reaction. She decides to take the lead. "There is good news, too." She lets this announcement sink in for a moment, before adding, "We have a new investor who wants to fund a broad business application for mobile devices. I put together some PowerPoint slides over the weekend to give an overview of the requirement specs."

  Richard picks up the ball. "We're going to retool, provide interactive meetings via mobile devices. Folks will synch to a virtual multimedia space. If you send content, messages, whatever, I see it, Trish sees it. If she edits it and sends, we all see it. Text, graphics, audio, everything. And we'll provide back-channels for one-on-ones and smaller subgroups while the larger meeting is going on. And it'll all run on the cloud. We've provisionally taken the name SmartTalk. That's confidential for now, by the way."

  It's now apparent that Richard has been giving this new technology, this new direction for VisualAxioms, some thought for some time.

  Still in shock, Cory says quietly, "We've made breakthroughs this year in a technology that has resisted such progress for decades. We almost own this domain of expertise right now. Our investors understood that as of last Friday. Didn't they?"

  Richard doesn't want a challenge at this point. "Cory, we have to be pragmatic. We're a startup, not a research lab. And part of the pragmatics, unfortunately, is that our new level of funding is not, mm, what Price, Goodwill and Darington were providing."

  John looks out the window, focused on some private thought. Pradip sits quietly, his face somber.

  Cory stares at Richard as he continues. "We're looking at...pay reductions for at least the first six months, just until we hit our milestone. And we'll need more code monkeys on board, but we're talking hourly wages there."

  Cory finally realizes that Richard is serious. He sinks back in his chair, emitting a soft 'wow' under his breath.

  Trish doesn't know how to read either Cory or John at the moment. They are upset, but just how upset? She tries upbeat again, directing her most polished, professional face toward Cory. "This could be a great management opportunity for you. The new hires are going to need technical supervision."

  She realizes her mistake when she sees the incredulity in his wide-set brown eyes directed at her.

  "Manage?" Cory looks back to the head of the table. "Richard, this just sounds like a me-too cellphone app."

  Richard spreads his hands. "Mobile is a huge market. Try to see the positive here."

  Cory doesn't need to ponder this trite observation. He gets up from the table, and looks directly at Richard. "I can't do this. I won't do it." He turns and walks out.

  Cory haphazardly piles the few books and papers in his office into a box.

  Jo appears at the doorway. She speaks softly. "I don't blame you. John just quit, too. I think Pradip would have, except he's got the H-1B visa issue."

  He turns to her. "I wonder how long Richard has been plotting this new deal." He sighs and returns to the books. "He knew he couldn't replace Duncan, so he just decided to let it go. His attitude lately makes a lot of sense now."

  Jo is riveted to her spot, listening to this tabooed topic spoken aloud for anyone to hear who passes down the hall.

  He doesn't care. "Richard really wants to run the show. And, since he doesn't have the chops to direct a moon shot, he's decided to run a little one-ring circus." Disgusted, he tosses a book on parallel computing into the box.

  Jo doesn't know what to say. She knows he's right about Richard. Things have never been the same without Duncan. She also realizes, sadly, that whatever was still fun about VisualAxioms is now ending.

  She lets out a deep sigh. "Cory, you're really good. You'll find interesting work. In fact," she hands him a scrap of paper with some scribbled words, "StickiWiki is ramping up, looking for senior developers. They're just down the street. My friend Amy works there. That's her number. She can get you an interview."

  He's startled by her offer and takes the scrap of paper, putting it in his jeans pocket. He flashes a warm smile at her. "That's sweet, Jo."

  Cory looks up to see John standing in the doorway. They exchange a look of enlightened contempt for the current situation.

  "I didn't expect that ambush this morning," John remarks, entering the office and handing Cory the last computer book remaining on his shelf.

  "Yeah. I wish we could just move this party somewhere else.”

  "So do I. You know all the reasons why we can't though. At least for now."

  Cory nods. "It's going to be tough for Pradip."

  "When his green card comes through, he'll have lots of options."

  Cory looks John in the eyes. "It's been really great working with you."

  John extends his hand. "You, too, dude." He nods at Cory. "I better go, Faye's coming by to pick up the things in my office. I rode my bicycle in today." He smiles. "Poor timing."

  Cory loads the few vestiges of his office belongings into his black Honda. Good thing he'd driven the car in yesterday, instead of riding his bike.

  He pulls out his iPhone, about to press Becca's number, hesitates, then puts the phone away. He gets into the car.

  Fatigue and an
ger wash over him. He leans his head against the back of the seat with closed eyes and smacks the side of his fist against the steering wheel.

  Chapter Eight

  Mil Toros. It's the busiest time of evening in downtown Palo Alto. Mil Toro's is filled with young singles dropping in after work to mingle with their friends and sample esoteric wines from around the world. With high ceilings, minimalist decor and low halogen lighting, the wine bar achieves the look of a high-tech cave.

  Rob is sitting next to Dawn across from Cory in a booth of buff-colored leather. The table top is black glass. Wine bars are not really Rob's thing, but he understands how to be a buddy. If Cory wants to hang out at a wine bar tonight, or at a strip club, Rob is willing to go along. Besides, Cory mentioned that Dawn would be here.

  Dawn isn't prepared for how depressed Cory seems. It was his decision to leave VisualAxioms, after all. She's been pondering the possibilities and offers one. "What about SRI? Don't they do your kind of stuff?"

  "Yeah. But, my friend Bret says nothing will happen there for twelve months. at least. No funding for this right now. And, Woodside Institute has a hiring freeze across the board." He sighs. "Duncan was really the only guy who was pushing this type of technology outside a university lab."

  "Would you consider writing code for that game company again? I thought they loved you." It's the other possibility that Dawn can think of.

  "I would, except they just laid-off ten percent of the work force. Their new strategy-action release bombed. Drone Explosive."

  Rob laughs. "I've played that game. It did really suck. Sorry."

  "Don't be. I had nothing to do with it." Cory sips his wine.

  Dawn looks directly at Cory now. "I do find myself wondering why you just walked out without a backup plan. You didn't have to do it this way."

  "Yes, I did. Richard is a deceptive, manipulative bastard. It's obvious why he hired Trish; she'll do fine marketing his vision of cellphone apps."