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up."
By now he had heard the story from Sam of the way Joel Faulconer had turned his back on her. He tried
to imagine doing something like that to his own daughter, but he couldn't.
"How does Sam feel about your not taking his name?"
"He harangued me for at least an hour. But I think it was more a training exercise than a sign of real
conviction. He wanted to make certain marriage hadn't turned me into a yes-woman."
"Sam definitely likes a good fight."
Susannah's expression turned serious. "I'm not afraid to fight with him, Mitch. Just because we're married
doesn't mean I'll rubber stamp his opinions. When it comes to SysVal, I'm my own woman."
We'll see, he thought to himself. We'll see.
By the end of the following week, they had taken the legal steps necessary to protect the company in the
event that Sam and Susannah's marriage failed. Documents were drawn up to make certain that
partnership shares couldn't change hands in a divorce settlement and upset the balance of power. If either
Sam or Susannah found it depressing to sign papers that dealt theoretically, at least with the end of a
marriage that had just begun, neither of them commented.
As fall slipped into winter, Mitch watched for signs that Sam and Susannah's marital relationship was
affecting their business decisions. Finally, he was forced to admit that, more frequently than not, he and
Susannah joined forces against her husband.
While the SysVal partners were growing accustomed to their new office, the little Apple Computer
Company continued to operate from the Jobses' family garage in Cupertino. Its founders were also at
work on a prototype of a self-contained computer, which they were calling the Apple II. One night early
in December, over video games at Mom & Pop's, Mitch discovered that Yank had openly discussed his
work on the Blaze with Steve Wozniak. His expression grew incredulous as he absorbed this casually
offered piece of information.
"Are you out of your mind?" he exclaimed, angrily confronting Yank, who was standing at the next video
machine. "Your designs are this company's most basic asset. You don't share them with a competitor.
Don't ever let anything like this happen again! Ever!"
Yank was completely mystified by Mitch's anger. "Woz and I like each other's work," he said in his
reasonable, logical voice. "We've always helped each other out."
Sam and Susannah had been playing Super Pong together when the eruption occurred. Observing the
curious stares of a couple in a nearby booth, she moved her body slightly, hoping to block some of the
confrontation from public view while Sam tried to calm Mitch.
"Look, it's a different world out here," Sam said. "Yank's a hacker. Hackers can't even understand the
concept of proprietary information."
Mitch's expression grew fierce. "Listen to me, all of you. We're not playing games with SysVal. From
now on every piece of information on the Blaze design is proprietary right down to the number of
screws holding on the case. This is not debatable! No one talks publicly about anything, do you hear me?
No one!"
Yank turned away from Mitch to gave Sam a long, piercing gaze, and then he said distinctly, "This is
crap."
It was the first time Susannah had ever heard him use a vulgarity. Without uttering another word, he
stalked away from the three of them and left the restaurant.
Mitch was as angry as she had ever seen him. Sam, in his impulsive manner, wanted to deal with the
situation in the middle of Mom & Pop's, but she hustled both men outside and they drove to Sam and
Susannah's apartment.
The apartment was small and dingy, with a view of the trash Dumpster, but Susannah loved having a
place of her own and didn't mind its shabbiness. They had neither the time nor the money to improve it,
which was probably just as well because Susannah had finally admitted to herself that domesticity had
never interested her. When it came to a choice between spending her time working on the development
of the Blaze prototype or picking out living room draperies, the Blaze won hands down.
Sam grabbed a beer from the refrigerator for Mitch and a Coke for himself and then began to pace the
floor. Susannah took a seat in the room's only armchair. Mitch, whose outrage over Yank's breach of
security hadn't eased at all, sat on the couch and scowled. They were in the positions they usually
occupied late at night when the three of them got together to refine their business plan and define exactly
what they wanted their company to be.
How many nights had they spent like this, with Sam painting word pictures of a company that had glass
walls, open doors, and rock music playing, while Mitch countered with his own, more pragmatic vision
one centered on swelling market share and snowballing profits instead of a Utopian working
environment? Despite the friendship between the two men, they were frequently at loggerheads, and
Susannah had to act as mediator. She realized that this night would be no different.
Sam planted his hands on his hips and looked over at Mitch. "You've got a Master's from MIT, but
Yank and I are Valley kids. We weren't trained in colleges. Our roots are in the suburbs in garages.
For hackers, the rewards come in breaking codes and in getting into closed systems in showing your
design to someone who's smart enough to understand the dazzle of what you've done. When you tell a
hardware hacker like Yank that he can't show off a brilliant piece of design to one of the few people he
knows who can really appreciate it, it's like you've cut off his oxygen supply."
"Then we have a serious problem," Mitch said coldly.
Silence fell between them.
Susannah sighed in frustration. Why couldn't either of them ever see the other's viewpoint? Once again
she found herself wanting to bang their heads together. Mitch grounded everything in reality, Sam in
possibility. She alone seemed to understand that only with the melding of both philosophies could the true
vision of SysVal emerge.
She slipped into her customary role of mediator as if it were an old, comfortable bathrobe. "Don't forget
that while Yank is showing off the Blaze, he's also looking at the Apple II. Surely there'll be some
benefits in that."
"That's nuts," Mitch protested. "What if by the grace of God we actually manage to make a success
out of this ridiculous company? We can't function indefinitely with our newest technology flying out the
window all the time."
"You're right," she said, "but in this case being right doesn't make any difference, because Yank simply
won't pay attention." She had already given the matter some thought, and now she shared her ideas with
them. "As soon as we're able, we need to begin surrounding him with the most brilliant young engineers [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]