Virginia, Current Day
It wasn’t a planned event. It started as a way for John to stay awake and focused during the day, between meetings and lunch and meetings and gatherings and motivational team-building exercises and all that boring crap that offices did that wasn’t the part where people actually got to the part where people worked and busted ass.
In the break room. Fifteen minutes of Tai Chi, tucked into the farthest corner, next to the regular microwave and the Kosher microwave and the Designated Popcorn Microwave that always smelled like burning. The cubicles were too small to move comfortably, and the break room was a decent size. People muttered and stayed away from the crazy guy who looked like he was acting out a kung fu movie underwater or something.
Within two weeks, there were five people, and they moved the chairs and tables against the wall.
Within a month, they had outgrown the break room and had moved to one of the conference room. By the second month, they were in the largest conference room, twice a day. Midmorning break and afternoon break. Coders in jeans and pajama bottoms under skirts and argyle socks and oversized pants and business suits and hoodies with band names. Cards were passed, listing neighborhood classes, dojos. People bowed, wore special shoes or went barefoot.
Executives were perplexed. Some joined, some did not, preferring to use the Health Center and the machines inside, trying to impress everyone by bench pressing and reps and not leaving the office until after 7 even on the weekends and blood pressure that would burst the ulcer and show the higher-ups that they were On The Job and always Working On it.
It was one more reason why Management had John slated for termination.
“That kid bothers me.”
“Which one?”
“That Connor. Jim Connor, whatever his name is.”
“The Tai Chi?”
”The Tai Chi. Makes me nervous.”
“It’s harmless. Made it into the company newsletter, even. HR is spinning it, trying to pass it off as a health benefit.”
“Is it?”
“Actually, yes. Fewer missed days, fewer sickouts. Productivity is up, marginally.”
“Marginally?”
“Moreso than the espresso machine.”
“Wasn’t our best idea.”
“They like caffeine.”
“Too jittery.”
“When’s the meeting?”
“About fifteen minutes. Dobson and Jenks.”
“Legal?”
“Of course. Wouldn’t be a meeting without Legal. “
“Fun bunch.”
”We need to do something about that Cornell.”
”Connor.”
”Terminate him.”
”What about his code? We have three guys checking it, and it’s flawless.”
“That’s the point. We shouldn’t have to have anyone checking it. He’s a drain.”
“He’s a benefit. Have you seen the results? We’re two years ahead of schedule.”
“I don’t like him. I don’t like it. The Tea Chai, his code. What were you saying about it? The, what, the failsafes?”
“I’m telling you, Bob, this guy codes like no one I’ve seen. You remember his interview? The group thing?”
“Refresh me.”
“Standard test. Project should take about an hour to pull, we gave ‘em three. Open books, even, no outside programs or anything to plug in. Hell, we didn’t let ‘em take in a diskman, let alone an MP3 player.”
“That was in the newsletter, right?”
“Yeah. We’ve disabled that. Can’t save anything from the computer on to anything, can’t install anything.”
“So what did this Connor do?”
“Took the whole damn three hours. I’ve seen the logs. Gave ‘em laptops, wireless disabled. Choice of operating systems. Hell, the damn machines were loaded with half a dozen different programs and languages and everything else.”
”He used them all.”
“He used ‘em all.”
“And the program?”
“Written in about twenty minutes.”
“What the hell took three hours?” He slammed his hand on the desk.
Jensen quirked an eyebrow. “Enabled the wireless. Wrote a complier, from scratch. Wrote about three programs to translate, and I swear to God, he wrote part of the damn code in binary. And the code worked. Bit longer than it needed to be, but it worked.”
“Documentation?”
“Code. We found some of it. Something about those motivational posters and pictures of cats. Took us a few hors to figure out what it meant.”
“And?”
“You know programmers. I think the coding goes to their brains. Too much time in front of the computer or something. Made sense after the code was cracked.”
“And he was hired.”
“And he was hired.”
“And we gave him access.”
“Less than most.”
“You trust him?”
“He’s the most competent coder we have here, aside from some of the long-timers. They’re the ones recounting.”
“Get rid of him. Terminate him. Do it over the break.”
“That’s a horrible Christmas gift.”
“I don’t get paid to be in a red suit or hand out toys. Do it. Time for the meeting.”
NFI, OOC welcome
In the break room. Fifteen minutes of Tai Chi, tucked into the farthest corner, next to the regular microwave and the Kosher microwave and the Designated Popcorn Microwave that always smelled like burning. The cubicles were too small to move comfortably, and the break room was a decent size. People muttered and stayed away from the crazy guy who looked like he was acting out a kung fu movie underwater or something.
Within two weeks, there were five people, and they moved the chairs and tables against the wall.
Within a month, they had outgrown the break room and had moved to one of the conference room. By the second month, they were in the largest conference room, twice a day. Midmorning break and afternoon break. Coders in jeans and pajama bottoms under skirts and argyle socks and oversized pants and business suits and hoodies with band names. Cards were passed, listing neighborhood classes, dojos. People bowed, wore special shoes or went barefoot.
Executives were perplexed. Some joined, some did not, preferring to use the Health Center and the machines inside, trying to impress everyone by bench pressing and reps and not leaving the office until after 7 even on the weekends and blood pressure that would burst the ulcer and show the higher-ups that they were On The Job and always Working On it.
It was one more reason why Management had John slated for termination.
“That kid bothers me.”
“Which one?”
“That Connor. Jim Connor, whatever his name is.”
“The Tai Chi?”
”The Tai Chi. Makes me nervous.”
“It’s harmless. Made it into the company newsletter, even. HR is spinning it, trying to pass it off as a health benefit.”
“Is it?”
“Actually, yes. Fewer missed days, fewer sickouts. Productivity is up, marginally.”
“Marginally?”
“Moreso than the espresso machine.”
“Wasn’t our best idea.”
“They like caffeine.”
“Too jittery.”
“When’s the meeting?”
“About fifteen minutes. Dobson and Jenks.”
“Legal?”
“Of course. Wouldn’t be a meeting without Legal. “
“Fun bunch.”
”We need to do something about that Cornell.”
”Connor.”
”Terminate him.”
”What about his code? We have three guys checking it, and it’s flawless.”
“That’s the point. We shouldn’t have to have anyone checking it. He’s a drain.”
“He’s a benefit. Have you seen the results? We’re two years ahead of schedule.”
“I don’t like him. I don’t like it. The Tea Chai, his code. What were you saying about it? The, what, the failsafes?”
“I’m telling you, Bob, this guy codes like no one I’ve seen. You remember his interview? The group thing?”
“Refresh me.”
“Standard test. Project should take about an hour to pull, we gave ‘em three. Open books, even, no outside programs or anything to plug in. Hell, we didn’t let ‘em take in a diskman, let alone an MP3 player.”
“That was in the newsletter, right?”
“Yeah. We’ve disabled that. Can’t save anything from the computer on to anything, can’t install anything.”
“So what did this Connor do?”
“Took the whole damn three hours. I’ve seen the logs. Gave ‘em laptops, wireless disabled. Choice of operating systems. Hell, the damn machines were loaded with half a dozen different programs and languages and everything else.”
”He used them all.”
“He used ‘em all.”
“And the program?”
“Written in about twenty minutes.”
“What the hell took three hours?” He slammed his hand on the desk.
Jensen quirked an eyebrow. “Enabled the wireless. Wrote a complier, from scratch. Wrote about three programs to translate, and I swear to God, he wrote part of the damn code in binary. And the code worked. Bit longer than it needed to be, but it worked.”
“Documentation?”
“Code. We found some of it. Something about those motivational posters and pictures of cats. Took us a few hors to figure out what it meant.”
“And?”
“You know programmers. I think the coding goes to their brains. Too much time in front of the computer or something. Made sense after the code was cracked.”
“And he was hired.”
“And he was hired.”
“And we gave him access.”
“Less than most.”
“You trust him?”
“He’s the most competent coder we have here, aside from some of the long-timers. They’re the ones recounting.”
“Get rid of him. Terminate him. Do it over the break.”
“That’s a horrible Christmas gift.”
“I don’t get paid to be in a red suit or hand out toys. Do it. Time for the meeting.”
NFI, OOC welcome