One of the programmers pushed past me to join three of her friends in the crowded auditorium. I think her name was Abigail or something—big head of brown hair, curls on curls. I knew her about as well as I knew most of the people in the room, which was a name, an HR file, and not much beyond that because she hadn’t caused too much trouble.
I was getting bumped, nudged, or squeezed-past constantly. There were over a hundred of us in the room. It was tight, noisy, and a lot of the geeks, like me, were wearing black. Unlike me, a few weren’t wearing deodorant. It reminded me of a documentary I’d watched about penguins in Antarctica, huddling together against the icy wind, except it was hot in here, too. There were too many of us for the A/C to keep up, which was just unnecessary since there were at least two bigger amphitheaters on Osmark Technology’s Stanton campus. That, and security was out in greater numbers than usual, one guard at every entrance checking badges, and three in front of the stage. No one in the crowd knew why we were here.
The project had been secretive from the start, with ten-page non-disclosure agreements for all the staff and zero-tolerance for press leaks, but this level of paranoia meant something big was going on. There was an energy in the room beyond the usual optimism I’d experienced as part of the Viridian project. People were giddy. Two women near me decided we were going to demo the NexGenVR system at the next tech conference. A neckbeard and his overwhelmingly pierced and tatted friend announced the Bathsheba team—the ones who made The Ancient Rolls—had signed on for a joint venture. Knowing Robert, I thought it was more likely we’d poached one of their team leads to steer the project, but no one asked me, so I crossed my arms and waited.
A side door opened and Robert Osmark, my pseudo-friend, mentor, and current boss, walked into the room, followed closely by Sandra Bullard, his assistant. Designer sunglasses pushed up onto his forehead, black bespoke suit, a little salt creeping into his hair, Robert was the James Bond of the tech world. Everyone cheered. Robert waved, shook the guard at the door’s hand, called out to people by name, and basically did all the stuff Robert did without thinking that made him beloved. I liked to think I could pull it off, but I mostly worked below the radar. I noticed Sandra fade back against the wall, too, her black hair up in a tight bun, ever-present clipboard raised like a shield, eyes scanning. She was an interesting woman, and my age, which was young for the authority and trust she’d been given. Nice legs, when she cared to show them. Shame she’d never given me the time of day.
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Robert reached the podium and placed his hands on either side of it. The crowd quieted down without prompting, ready to hang off his every word.
He cleared his throat. “The Viridian project is being put on indefinite pause.”
Stunned silence.
I felt my throat tighten. Then someone laughed, and it spread to the rest of the room.
Robert smiled, but it was strained. “I love that we’re all laughing. I love that your belief in Viridian—in this team—is so strong that it’s inconceivable that the project would fail. And it hasn’t. But I just finished speaking to the alpha testers and our medical staff, and there are some wetware issues we just can’t overcome.”
I was crushed. This was real. I let my hands fall by my sides. I could feel two years of my life circling the drain.
“It’s not anybody’s fault, so I’m not firing anyone. You have a job here if you want it. It may not be the job you want, and I won’t blame you for moving on, but this is not a failure,” he reemphasized, spreading his arms as if he was embracing the crowd. “We’re just a couple years ahead of the technology that will make this project a reality.”
“This is bullshit!” someone shouted from the crowd. Abigail, in front of me, told the heckler to shut the hell up. The room buzzed.
Robert held his hand up until it got quiet again. “It’s okay to be angry. It’s normal to be hurt. For many, Viridian was… Viridian is a lifelong dream, and we’re going to build it, just not today.
“I’m bringing in a crew to pack everything up, so I don’t need you to come in tomorrow. Take a long weekend, get drunk, get laid, blow off steam. I wish I could join you, but I’ve been summoned by the Board in San Francisco.” He flashed a lopsided grin that told everyone he wasn’t the bad guy. “Talk to HR on Monday. They’ll have your things all boxed up. You just tell them if you need a desk or a paycheck, and we’ll make it happen.”
Robert glanced at Sandra. She nodded. Robert made some closing remarks—general feel-good stuff. I tuned that out and pushed my way toward the side door.
“We’ll pick this up again in two years!” Osmark told the sullen crowd, then left the stage.
The room exploded into questions and side conversations. Osmark ignored them. I got elbowed, stepped on, and washed up against one of the security guards who was screening Osmark’s exit. I had to shout over the noise. “Mr. Osmark!”
I caught his eye. There was a split second pause, the familiar cold calculation behind the facade. He tapped the guard on the shoulder and nodded toward me. “Let him through.”
I followed Robert and Sandra out the side door.