The next morning, Jon found a four hundred page document on the top of his desk. A short note on yellow paper was stuck to the front. “Sorry, Jon. I didn’t mean to shoot the messenger,” the note said. It was signed, “Harry.”
The four hundred page document was pseudo code for the new operating system. While incomplete documentation, it was something an accomplished technical writer could easily turn into a finished document. It was the perfect starting point for Jon and Lettie.
When Jon found out later exactly how Harry had put the document together, he was astonished at the distance Harry had gone with the quantum computer. Harry now had access to every major computer system in the world. He had downloaded the most authoritative database on the English language from the server of a leading university. From several other sources he had downloaded incredibly detailed specifications for the C++ language. He had then created a program that would convert C++ code into English pseudo-code. When Harry told him how he had created the document, Jon refrained from asking if he had done it in the time it takes to “peel an apple.”
Later that day Jon stopped by Lettie’s office with Harry’s pseudo-code in hand. He was determined not to let their personal issues interfere with the work. Apparently Lettie had made a similar decision. It was almost as though they had made a silent agreement. Lettie did not bring up any questions about Harry, and he in turn did not ask her any questions concerning her personal life. Everything was strictly businesslike. Each had decided to keep their relationship thoroughly professional. Jon could not help but notice, however, the single rose on her desk. He didn’t have to guess the identity of Lettie’s admirer.
As the days progressed, they quickly developed a working relationship that was almost telepathic. Their approach to technical writing was strikingly similar. Their rapport was almost uncanny. Time and again, when they compared working notes, they found that their comments corresponded almost word for word. After the first week it felt like they had been working together for years and years.
While Jon could deal with the arrangement while he was with Lettie, he suffered afterward. The scent of her perfume lingered and the image of her face danced before him the rest of the day. Any doubts of how he felt about her had dissolved completely by the end of the first week.
The few times he was forced to consult Harry about ambiguities or other problems in the pseudo code were painful to the extreme. Harry’s appearance was now almost wraithlike. It was as if he were wrestling with demons, both his own and those that had been bottled up in the quantum computer for sixty million years.
More often than not he would begin by saying, “Why do you need to know that?” When Jon explained the necessity as best he could, Harry would glance at the section of pseudo code in question and give Jon a withering look, which Jon always interpreted as “How can you be so stupid?”
Jon was able to forgive Harry because his torment was so obvious. In fact, Jon was concerned that Harry was headed for a complete mental breakdown. The look in Harry’s eyes was more and more desperate. He had a nervous tick, and the skin beneath his eyes twitched uncontrollably.
“The fucking thing is making me jump through hoops!” he said on more than one occasion.
“Why don’t you just get away for a while, Harry?” Jon asked.
Harry wouldn’t answer. Each time he just stared at his hands and fidgeted. “Getting away” was not an option. He was locked in a death struggle and he would either find the answers he was looking for or destroy himself trying.
“The damned thing is testing me,” Harry said repeatedly. “It’s seeing how high I can jump and then it’s making me jump even higher.”
Jon would leave work at six and then come back later to drop off dinner for his friend. But the next morning, when Jon arrived back at work, the food would be sitting on the far side of Harry’s desk, untouched.
Toward the end of the second week, Jon was truly alarmed by Harry’s appearance. He was gaunt, almost emaciated. His eyes were like red coals sunk in black craters. But what frightened Jon the most was not Harry’s physical appearance, it was the hangdog look of defeat etched into his face, as though his silent battle with the machine had left him with no pride whatsoever.
At the end of the day on Friday, Jon walked into Harry’s office. “What do you want me to do?” he said to Harry. “Get down on my knees and beg you to go home?”
Harry just stared at his screen. He was watching something intently. Jon walked behind him and saw that he was compiling a program. Whatever it was that Harry was compiling, it was huge. The elapsed time was two hours and a screen message indicated that it was only forty percent complete.
Jon placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Harry, it’s time to go home. I’ll drag you if I have to.”
“Okay, okay, okay,” Harry said, his voice raspy. “I’ll go home as soon as this compiles.”
“I’ll come back for you in a couple of hours.”
“No, you don’t have to do that. I’ll call a cab. I know I’m in no shape to drive.”
“Do you promise me you’ll do that?”
Harry nodded but made no verbal reply.
“I’ll hold you to your promise,” Jon said as Harry continued to focus on the screen.
On the way home that night, Jon felt guilty for allowing Harry to stay behind. He decided that he would go back to work on Saturday morning just to make sure that Harry had left.
His concern for Harry and his worries about where it was all headed fueled a restlessness within him. Suddenly he was unable to bear the thought of being shut up alone in his apartment. He burned with a deep need to be around other people, people who were happy and having a good time. He considered stopping at Miller’s, but the possibility of running into Lettie and Eric held him back. Seeing them together was more than he could deal with at the moment. He decided to find another place just as good as Miller’s. There were certainly plenty to choose from.
And yet, he found himself pulling into the parking lot at Miller’s. You stupid jerk, he told himself as he got out of the car, you’re nothing but a blind pig looking for an acorn.
Just after he entered Miller’s, Jon saw Eric Meyers walk down the length of the bar. He moved in an odd manner, his steps close together, as though walking was uncomfortable. Jon watched him seat himself gingerly next to a woman at the far end of the bar.
Jon took a seat a short distance from the bar, but hidden behind a post, so when he shifted to his right he could get a good view. He was close enough to identify the woman seated next to Eric. The bartender had pointed her out to him once. “Her name is Amy,” he said. “She’s one hundred percent party animal. All you have to do is buy her a few drinks and tell her a couple of jokes and she’ll put out all night long.”
Eric must have been doing okay in the joke department because she was laughing her head off. Over the next twenty minutes, Jon monitored their progress. They had several more rounds and the laughter continued. At about seven o’clock, they left Miller’s together. Eric had an arm around her waist and just before they reached the exit, he whispered something that caused her to shriek with laughter.
Jon ordered another beer and stayed for dinner. A jumble of thoughts about what he had witnessed collided in his mind. He didn’t know what was going on, but he guessed it was quite different from what he had previously assumed.
Chapter Thirty-One
On Monday Jon arrived at work nearly an hour later than usual. It was just before eight, the official start time at HTPS Industries. He was in no rush. He had already spent half of Saturday at the office checking in on Harry. There being no sign of him, Jon had assumed Harry finally went home to get some rest. While he was there, he decided to take a quick look at a couple of documents he was working on with Lettie. The next thing he knew it was noon.
Jon headed down the narrow, steel stairway that led to his basement office. He had learned the hard way that the elevators involved too much waiting time. During pe
ak times of traffic, they were always going up.
He checked Harry’s office first thing. He was still not there. Jon could only assume that he’d be in later. Since Harry nearly always worked a sixty to seventy hour week, the management was content to let him come and go as he pleased. It suited Harry, who was more of a night owl.
Jon’s inbox contained a number of new emails from Lettie. He found it interesting how factual and businesslike her emails were. Nothing like the ones she used to send in the old days. Jon was convinced that she made an extra effort to ensure that any personal content was carefully expunged. Her emails this morning were more of the same. Jon wondered why she took such extreme care to avoid personal touches, but after a second or two decided that thinking about it was a waste of time.
At nine a.m., Ted Blume came for a visit. “Morning, Jon,” he said, seating himself in the chair in front of Jon’s desk. “You know, there’s something I’ve wondered about, Jon. The rest of the basement is damp and cold, but your office always seems very comfortable, just like the offices upstairs. How do you manage that?”
Jon hesitated. “Uh, just good ventilation, I guess.”
“Odd, very odd,” Ted replied. “I guess the other vents down here must be blocked up or something.”
So far Ted hadn’t questioned the brand-new furniture or flawless lighting, and Jon hoped he never would. It was fortunate for Jon that Ted was not a very curious person in general and always focused on the task at hand.
Ted cleared his throat. “Getting down to business. I need your help. The IT team from the Pentagon wants to have a conference about the progress of the PKD project. The catch is, they want Harry to be there.”
A long uncomfortable silence followed. “Harry’s not going to like that,” Jon finally said.
“Believe me, I know. But I’m hoping you can find a way to talk him into it. They’ve scheduled the meeting for tomorrow afternoon. They want Harry there—no ifs, ands, or buts.”
Jon frowned. “That could be a real problem. Harry’s been … difficult lately.”
“Tell me about it,” Ted replied. “I went into his office last Thursday and he snapped my head off. And I could smell him from three feet away. It really grossed me out. The guy needs to shower more often.”
“I finally talked him into going home last Friday. Hopefully he’ll be in a little better shape this week. I’ll tell him about the meeting as soon as he gets in. I’ll be sure to twist his arm.”
The rest of the day passed with excruciating slowness, broken only by lunch and a documentation meeting with Lettie. Time and again he checked Harry’s office, only to find it empty. By late afternoon he was genuinely concerned. He tried Harry’s home phone but there was no answer.
Shortly before five he stopped by Ted’s office. He had agonized about what to tell him and realized he had no choice but to play fast and loose with the facts. Harry had left him in the lurch. The only way to keep things moving forward was to cover for him.
“Harry’s out sick. He didn’t come in today and I don’t think he’ll be in tomorrow.”
Ted looked concerned. “What’s wrong?”
“He didn’t say,” said Jon. “But my guess is that it’s exhaustion.”
“Do you think he’ll be better by Wednesday?” Ted asked.
Jon shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Ted began to fidget with his pencil. Harry was turning them all into nervous wrecks. “That really puts us in a bind,” Ted said. “We’re getting close to the wire on the PKD project and the Pentagon people are breathing down our necks.”
Tuesday came and went with no sign of Harry. When Jon explained to Ted that Harry was still out and that there was no definite date for his return, he saw panic flare in the older man’s eyes.
“Well, if he doesn’t show soon,” Ted said, “we’re really going to be up a creek without a paddle.”
The next day, when Harry was again a no-show, the pressure spiked accordingly. In the morning John Balis stopped by Jon’s office. He leaned against his desk, arms crossed, expression grim.
“You’ve got to get that guy in here. The ball is in your court, Jon. You’re the one with the most to lose, I guarantee it.”
The most unpleasant visitor was Eric Meyers, in the early afternoon. Meyers barged in unannounced and sat down in the chair opposite Jon’s desk. As he drummed his fingers in a purposely annoying fashion on the desk, Meyers wore his all-too-familiar “I know something that you don’t know” smirk.
“Your buddy Harry has left you twisting in the wind,” he finally said.
For the first time there was a chink in Jon’s professional armor. He shot a hostile glance at Meyers but kept his mouth shut.
“I always had that guy pegged as a weirdo,” Meyers continued. “I was on a project with him a couple of years back. There was this beautiful blonde babe who would just about spread her legs every time he came around, but Harry wouldn’t give her the time of day.”
Jon did not have to guess the identity of the “beautiful blonde babe.” Both his hands closed into fists and he had to exert a monumental effort of will to keep from jumping up.
“My theory about that guy Harry,” Eric Meyers went on, “is that he’s some type of fag.”
Jon stood up. He was calm, his composure absolute. “There’s the door. I have work to do. I don’t have time for your ignorance or your bigotry.”
Meyers’ smirk became even more pronounced. He held his ground, perfectly relaxed, and said, “We need to know when Harry will be back.”
“He’ll be back when he damn well feels like it.”
“The deadline is this Friday. As I already told Blumenberg, or whatever his name is, if the code is not ready by Friday our inclination will be to cancel the project.”
Finally he rose to leave. At the door, he turned and delivered his parting shot. “I know this guy Harry is a lot more intelligent than you are, Jon. But apart from that, I think you’re two of a kind.”
It took nearly five minutes before Jon could calm down enough to start thinking rationally about what had just happened. Meyers’ incredible vitriol made no sense to him. He could understand his first few encounters with the man. Meyers obviously wanted to scuttle Jon’s earlier position in the project because of Lettie. It was a blatant maneuver that allowed him to hit on her. But the pure hatred Meyers had just shown him was beyond comprehension. Had Harry done something to set him off?
While Jon struggled to sort it all out, there was another knock on the door. Well, at least it’s not Meyers, he thought. Meyers would have just barged in.
“The door is open!”
Benton Reeves walked in. “I hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time,” he said politely.
Jon smiled nervously. The “Old Man” rarely made personal visits, and he might well wonder who had authorized the elaborate remodel of his office.
“Not at all, sir, not at all,” he said quickly. He hoped his rapid response didn’t make the panic that engulfed him too obvious.
Benton Reeves approached his desk. Uncertain whether to invite him to sit, Jon remained silent.
“How are things going, my boy?”
“Well enough, except for the fact that Harry’s out sick.”
“Well, that’s not good,” Benton Reeves said gruffly. The Old Man’s eyes were fixed on Jon like twin laser beams. Jon almost winced. With anyone else he would have kept his cool and remained silent. But with Benton Reeves he was compelled to say something.
“Actually things were going very well before Harry took sick. We’re very close on the PKD project.”
“Close only counts in horseshoes, my boy,” said Benton.
And hand grenades, thought Jon, silently finishing the saying. He immediately regretted his choice of words.
“The company has a whole lot riding on this PKD project. And so do you. I want you to do everything in your power to get Harry to finish this thing, even if you have to drag him out of bed by the scruff of his ne
ck.”
Jon could just imagine Harry’s reaction if Jon had the nerve to do that.
“Yes, sir,” he replied. He felt like a complete fool.
“I know I can depend on you, my boy,” said Benton. He smiled broadly, a forced expression, more grimace than grin. He turned and walked out of the office.
When Jon left the office shortly after five o’clock, he recalled Harry’s appearance the last time he had seen him. He had looked like a whipped dog—absolutely defeated, with no fight left in him. Jon shuddered, realizing that was exactly how he felt now.
Chapter Thirty-Two
When Jon woke the next morning he didn’t want to get out of bed. As he lay back, head buried in the pillow, he realized that he was at his wit’s end. In the past six months he had been brow beaten, bullied, and threatened. He had treated everyone with respect, but it seemed he received nothing but insults and humiliation in return.
He thought about confronting Harry at home, but he did not for a moment believe he would find his friend there. He could wait in Harry’s parking lot again, but his absence at work would be noted, putting both their jobs in jeopardy. No, he would just have to wait until Harry surfaced again, hoping against hope that it would not be too late.
Somehow the sheer force of habit got him out of bed and off to work. When he sat down at his desk and leaned back in the chair, he smiled faintly. At least the chair was comfortable. In fact, it was the most comfortable chair he had ever sat in. It seemed to be form-fitted to his body. Suddenly he laughed out loud. You’ve been taking it all too seriously, he thought to himself.
When he booted up his computer something strange happened. A large message box opened on the screen. Inside the thin blue border was a message from Harry:
I’ve turned the corner on the Q.C. I’m out of the root directory. It was a test, as I suspected, and I finally passed. I’m moving at light speed in a whole new direction. Sorry if I kept you guessing. I need a few more days alone with the Q.C. I’ll get back in touch soon. Here’s the completed version of the Public Key Decryption software. I hope it will keep the wolves from your door. It will only run on Big Moe: /work/CPP/HSALE/pkd.exe.
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