by Marc Jedel
With a steady stream of glowing press, if not actual products shipping, the biotech division’s goal was increasing human longevity. Samerson’s strategy seemed a little ill-conceived to me—if robots took over all the jobs, how would people make enough money to afford to live longer?
While we stood to the side of the lobby, Raj and I watched the employees going into the building. It was nuts for Raj to have to fly to Portland to meet with a man who lived and worked most of the time only a few miles away from us in the Bay Area, but Raj explained this was Samerson’s only open timeslot this month. Since Doug Samerson was about to buy our company, Raj did not mind the inconvenience.
I hated missing out on the Star Trek exhibition, but I wouldn’t be able to look myself in the eye if I didn’t do something to help figure out what happened to Larry when I had the chance. At least I could appreciate that my days weren’t scheduled as tightly as Samerson’s.
The receptionist called our names. A woman in her thirties, with a perfectly coiffed, bobbed haircut and an expensive-looking long sleeve dress, was chatting with the receptionist. The woman stood with her arms crossed against her body, rubbing them to stay warm even though the lobby felt comfortable to me. As we approached, she flipped a big smile onto her face before stretching out her hand. “Hi. We weren’t expecting two of you, but we’ll make it work. I’m Peri. Peri Syte.”
I blinked in surprise, and she blushed. “Yes. My parents are biologists with a strange sense of humor.” Recovering, she added, “I guess it was fate that I’m working at a biotech myself. Just call me Peri. I lead our People Power program.”
Trying to recover from my poor first reaction, I said, “Power to the People,” and raised a clenched fist.
Peri gave me a half smile with a small, forced laugh. “You must be Marty Golden. We weren’t expecting you today …” Her voice trailed off.
I jumped into the breach with the explanation that I had developed last night. “We thought it would be good for Mr. Samerson to meet two great engineers from Rover.” Okay, it wasn’t the most innovative excuse in the world, but it was all I could come up with.
Peri frowned and then shrugged. “It’s fine, I guess. But you’ll have to fill out all the visitor paperwork.” She reached over to shake Raj’s hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m in charge of talent acquisition at Sirius. I’m so excited to meet you … both of you. Let’s get you checked in so we can get going.” She sounded far too excited to meet us than a normal person should. HR people must possess some special gene that enables them to fake excitement while toeing the company line.
I’ve visited plenty of companies for interviews, lunch with friends, and business meetings. Never have I seen such an elaborate process for guest entry. After completing a couple of forms and signing some documents, we had our pictures taken. Our pictures! While we waited for custom plastic photo badges to be printed, Peri kept up a steady patter of commentary about the advanced badging system deployed by Sirius.
Her bubbly voice was starting to annoy me. “… and all invented by Doug. I mean Mr. Samerson. He’s so amazing,” she gushed. “He wanted all our visitors to experience the amazing feeling of working here by receiving the same badge as employees. It actually allows you to badge into the building.”
I wanted to wait until I had entered the building before asking about Larry, but I made a mental note not to drink any Kool-Aid that might be offered today. Did they really believe that using a badge to enter a building was such an exciting experience? I kept my mouth shut, as I wanted to make a good impression on the folks that might soon be in charge of Rover.
Noticing that she was still talking, I tuned in again and caught the tail end of her remarks.
“…a special souvenir for all our guests to remember their experience with us.”
“Sort of like Disneyland,” I added before I could stop myself.
Her eyes narrowed a bit, although she maintained her upbeat tone. “Sure.” She paused, rubbing her arms again while we waited. When the guard gave the go-ahead, she leaned over and signed her name on the final form with large, looping letters and a heart drawn above the “I.”
Not wanting to annoy my soon-to-be new head of HR before the merger even took place, I didn’t make fun of her. At least not out loud.
She finished and said, “Okay, it looks like everything is set. Let’s go have some fun!”
Raj leaned over and whispered to me, “She must be a fan of Universal Studios.” He glided away as I tried to squelch a snort.
Peri must have heard something, because she glanced at me, eyebrows raised in a questioning arch. Raj was smooth. He snuck in his comment, yet I got caught. She didn’t comment further as we experienced the joy of placing our badges on the reader and stepped through the opening.
As we waited for the elevator, Peri turned to us—or, rather, to Raj. “Have you heard our corporate slogan?” Without waiting for a response, she answered, “‘Sirius Innovation. We’re serious about innovating.’ Isn’t that clever?” She laughed and, again without waiting for a response, continued, “Mr. Samerson came up with that slogan too. He’s so brilliant, isn’t he?”
Raj and I both kept polite smiles on our faces as we followed her onto the elevator.
*****
From the brief tour of their offices, we confirmed that offices everywhere were equally boring. All I had resolved thus far was that Peri had heard of Larry’s death but refused to talk about him further because of “employee privacy.” After rows of cubicles, we stopped outside an area against the windows with several closed-door offices. We’d reached our destination: Exec-Land. I hoped this would be exciting, as it represented our Tomorrowland, after all.
“Have a seat,” said Peri.
I sat on the low, pale green object that she indicated.
“You’re meeting Vince first. All the engineers report up to him.” She stepped over to ask the administrative assistant a question.
The object, with a pale green square along with a triangle-shaped piece of wood that reclined at an unusual angle, only resembled a chair. It almost met my criteria for a chair. Passing my minimum chair standards typically required padding, comfort, and four legs rather than the three on this object. Perhaps I’d mistaken where she pointed and sat on a coffee table by mistake?
Before she returned, I’d almost lost feeling in my right leg. I rubbed it only to feel the same sensation begin in the left leg.
“Oh, aren’t those the most amazing chairs?” asked Peri. She’d reappeared without a sound. “I plan to buy some for my own home. Doug selected these on a European vacation and ordered them for all our executive waiting areas.”
She kept up her running commentary on the awesomeness of Sirius. I learned the chairs were avant-garde because Peri told us they were. I wasn’t quite sure what defined an avant-garde chair but concluded it meant uncomfortable. I was learning a lot on this trip, except for what happened to Larry.
Wondering how long this would take and whether I could still make the Star Trek exhibition, I stood to stretch, then glanced at my watch and took a calming breath. I couldn’t miss my flight since I had to escort my niece Megan home and make it back in time for Larry’s service. But I still had plenty of time. I checked my phone again, forgetting that Meghan hadn’t landed in New York yet. No message from Mace either. He and the Santa Cruz Sheriff’s deputies must have still been following up on my leads.
As two men walked out of Vince’s office, Peri looked up with a hopeful expression. Her face reddened when she saw them.
The shorter and more overweight of the two men paused outside the door. A badge reading “Clyde” dangled from his untucked white dress shirt that ballooned out from his jeans. He glanced at his watch, revealing a black and white watch band with an unusual pattern of stripes and dots. The fashionable design looked out of place on Clyde’s otherwise frumpy presentation. Indicating a small stack of electronic gear in his hands, he asked his colleague, “Would you mind dropping these at m
y desk? I’m late for another meeting.”
The other man, lanky with a runner’s build and slicked-back black hair, nodded and reached out to grab the equipment. He too wore an unusual, yet similar, watch band with bright orange patterns. Taking the gear, he turned, then noticed the three of us. “Well, hello there, everyone,” he said with a broad smile.
Raj jumped up and extended his hand in greeting. “Hello, my name is Raj. I am very honored to meet you. I am an engineer at Rover and am looking forward to our merger with Sirius.” Raj must have been nervous about today’s meeting too.
The man shifted his gaze to Raj and crinkled his forehead in confusion. “Well, good for you.”
Realizing the man couldn’t shake his hand with his arms full of gear, Raj lowered his hand and, with a curt nod, returned to his seat.
Peri smiled and, with an awkward gesture, waved her arms out to include me along with Raj. “They’re visiting from Rover. This is Alan. He’s our Sorcerer of Security.”
Alan smirked, then gave a wink and slight bow to Peri before puffing out his chest and walking off, wires dangling behind him.
Peri reddened from the excessive display of manliness, then turned to the other man. “Clyde, do you know where Vince is?”
Clyde straightened and pasted an ingratiating smile on his face. “That dress looks great today, Peri. The people business must be treating you well.” His smarmy charm oozed out and threatened to get all over my shoes.
Peri stepped back and crossed her arms as her voice went flat. “Clyde, I’d like you to meet Raj and Marty, two of the engineers from Rover. They’re here to meet with Vince and Doug.” She repeated, “Do you know where Vince is?”
A sour frown spread over Clyde’s face. “How should I know? Tell him his system upgrade needs more work.” He saw Raj fingering his new badge and snorted. “You tell him he should focus on securing our network rather than his damn pretty badges that don’t work—”
Peri interrupted him with introductions. “This is Clyde. He’s our Information Impresario.”
Raj scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. “Excuse me, you are what?”
“I’m the damn IT guy,” Clyde answered, and walked off. From behind, we could tell his thinning brown hair needed a cut, as it puffed out around his ears.
Peri tried to ignore his rude behavior, amping up her positivity through force of will. “We’ve given all our executive staff more whimsical titles to reflect our corporate value of ‘Winning While Having Fun.’”
She took my bored nod as encouragement and continued, “Mr. Samerson bought his whole executive team new watches to reinforce our corporate value of ‘Winning Over Time.’” Even she couldn’t restrain a giggle at this nonsense. “I think his wife just liked the custom-designed watch bands that she found at some art fair.”
She rubbed an empty wrist through her sleeve. “Mine is teal. It’s home today. I walked around San Francisco all day Saturday with my husband. We got a little more sun than expected.”
“It is important to know your values.” Raj nodded at his own sage advice.
I jumped in to show her I wanted to be a team player too. “What are the other values?”
Peri looked surprised that I’d asked. “Another value is ‘Winning Together.’ We showcase this by having our entire exec team travel together with Doug as often as possible. That’s why we’re all in Portland today, together, and we’ll fly home tonight. Together.” Her excitement seemed to dim.
Raj said, “Winning is good.”
Even Peri couldn’t think of anything to add to this comment, so she left us to search for the elusive Vince.
I headed to the restroom. When I returned, Raj had already gone inside. I walked in and introduced myself to Vince, then asked, “Did you know Larry Cohen?” No sense in beating around the bushes; I was tired of all the HR-speak and wanted to make some progress.
“Who?” Vince seemed confused.
Before I could explain, the door swung open again and Peri popped in.
“Oh, good, I see you’ve found our Connoisseur of Code.”
“Peri, give it a rest with the silly titles,” said Vince.
She flushed but powered on. “I’m so sorry.” She looked at Raj and then me. “Mr. Samerson has an unavoidable emergency that he has to deal with. He won’t be able to meet with you today after all.”
I tried to look on the bright side of things. “Oh well. I guess I’ll have a chance to stop by the Star Trek exhibition after all before I head home.”
Vince said, “Oh, that one at OMSI? It’s great.” He and I shared a nod of appreciation for the finer things in a geek’s life. Then, with a sad shake of his head, he added, “But today’s Monday. The museum’s closed on Mondays.”
My mouth dropped open.
Breaking the silence, Peri added, “Well, we do have some good news. We moved another meeting so Mr. Samerson can meet with you tomorrow back in our Palo Alto offices.”
“I thought we had to fly here because this was his only opening for a month?” I grumbled, my frustration with the whole day spilling over.
Pasting an obviously fake smile on her face, Peri replied, “Well, yes, that had been the case, but now he has time open tomorrow. Isn’t that wonderful?”
At least I could take Megan back home and make Larry’s memorial service tonight. I’d hate to spend another day in Portland pretending to feel special.
Vince didn’t even spend ten minutes with us before asking Peri to escort us back to the lobby. She kept up a steady patter on additional amazing aspects of Doug Samerson and Sirius Innovation. Her ability to memorize all the ridiculous marketing bullets and generate fake enthusiasm was impressive, if a bit creepy.
Today had been a total fiasco—no progress on Larry, no Star Trek exhibition, and confirmation that I was not considered the star engineer at Rover. All I got out of this trip was a commemorative badge. Although today’s experience at Sirius had been far from magical, Peri was right—I wouldn’t forget it.
6
Monday Afternoon
Megan sat in the aisle seat on the plane. It seemed best for me to take the middle seat to avoid subjecting someone else to a few hours of unfettered Megan-ness. She was an energetic eight-year-old with very strong opinions. Although she might have been seven? Or nine? I kept forgetting to ask Laney. To be more accurate, I kept chickening out of asking Laney how old my niece was. Anyway, I’d read somewhere that middle seats were safest in a plane crash. I justified my abandonment of Megan to the more dangerous seat by deciding that she’d be able to escape out of the plane faster from the aisle in case of a water landing.
Raj had switched his flight and left hours ago. Megan, however, couldn’t return until the afternoon from the Oregon coast, where she’d spent the weekend with her cousins. So, I hung around the airport, finishing an important demo for work and texting with Meghan in New York. She commiserated with me about the wasted trip while I fretted that neither Mace nor the Santa Cruz deputies had called me back yet with an update on their investigation. Needless to say, in my gloomy mood, my productivity didn’t break any records.
Megan’s big hug and burst of frantic energy helped me snap out of my funk. Laney’s sister-in-law had merely waved as she dropped off Megan outside the departures entrance, no doubt relieved that her own kid wasn’t as big a handful. Of course, I’d only seen Laney’s husband’s family at her wedding, when the girls were born, and again at his funeral a few years ago. Maybe I should have added them to my holiday card list, if I ever remembered to send holiday cards.
Concentrating on convincing myself that the flight would be fine and that the pilots would do a good job because they didn’t want the plane to crash either, I visualized a safe landing. If all went well, I’d get to Larry’s service right before it started. I wasn’t paying attention to the flight attendant’s announcement as we taxied away from the gate until I heard laughter echo throughout the cabin. I stopped obsessing about possible sources of airplane fa
ilure and listened.
“… The other attendants will be passing through the cabin to make sure your shoes, socks, and purses match.”
Megan leaned over to whisper, “What if I don’t have a purse? Will they give me one to match my sneakers?” She stuck out her glittery sneakers while raising her left eyebrow and quirking her lip.
The attendant continued, “The other ladies and I would certainly not have shown up for work tonight if we had anticipated a sudden decompression during flight. However, if one does occur, then yellow masks will drop from the compartment over your seat. To start the flow of oxygen, you first have to stop screaming.”
Megan elbowed me and we both smiled. I relaxed my death grip on the armrest a bit. I knew I could grab it again to help hold the plane together if turbulence struck, and I probably had some duct tape stashed in my backpack for a true emergency.
Laughter rolled through the cabin as the announcement continued, “For those of you traveling with a child—why? And for those of you traveling with two or more children, what on earth were you thinking? When the masks fall, first put the mask on the nicer child. That’s the one who will take care of you when you’re old.”
Megan leaned over. “Would you give me or Skye the mask first?”
I didn’t hear the rest of the announcement as I scrambled to think of a response. “You’re both old enough now to put on your own masks, so I wouldn’t have to choose.” To avoid ruining my successful gambit, I managed to maintain a straight face.
Megan smiled at me when the announcement ended. “She was funny.” She started to say something else but was interrupted by the attendant returning to add, “Oh, and by the way, this is a Boeing 737.”
Megan grunted before turning to me. “What are you going to be for Halloween?”
Before I could respond that I had no idea, the attendant again added, “With 175 passengers.”
Megan gave an exaggerated sigh as she crossed her arms. “She talks a lot.”
