Financial notables, brokers, celebrities from the media, even a couple of senators—all became part of the regular scene as money flowed from bottomless expense accounts. Parties and nightlife became as much a part of the routine as progress meetings and system tests during the day. From the original concept, Oz grew to a mammoth scale requiring hundreds of new specialists and thousands of square feet just for the equipment. To accommodate the project, Xylog acquired a newly completed complex centered around an eight-story main building on Southside, where some warehouses had once stood just off Carson Street. So the day came when trucks and packers arrived at Blawnox to move the labs, offices, and hardware that would be absorbed into the Xylog operation.
* * *
Corrigan was at one end of what had been the main EVIE lab, supervising the crating of the CDC mainframe that Tom Hatcher’s group used for associative array development, when Pinder appeared, ostensibly to ask how things were going.
“Fine,” Corrigan told him. “The installation at Carson Street is ahead of schedule. I’ll be going there first thing tomorrow to start getting it all on line, and we should have the section back in business by next week.”
“Excellent.” Pinder clasped his hands together behind his back and gazed around. Most of the lab area was bare, apart from discarded trash and wastepaper swept into piles. Lengths of disconnected cables protruded from underfloor distribution points and hung from overhead. A work crew was maneuvering the last of the large crates onto forklift palettes. “It’s like moving out of a house, isn’t it,” Pinder commented. “Full of ghosts and memories. Funny how places always look so much bigger with the furniture gone.”
“I thought this was the ultimate in modernism when I moved in,” Corrigan said. “But compared to where we’re going, it all seems quaint.”
“Look at the kind of money that’s going into Xylog,” Pinder answered.
“I guess so.” Corrigan had caught the quick, sideways looks that Pinder had been giving him as they spoke, and knew there was more to this than a casual visit. Such was usually the case when Pinder came over from the Executive Building.
Pinder glanced around. There was nobody in their immediate vicinity. He motioned with a nod of his head for Corrigan to follow, and walked slowly along by the outside wall until they came to a window overlooking the rear lawns and parking lots. “I’m a bit troubled by Shipley’s ultracautiousness,” he said, directing his gaze straight ahead. “I know it’s good science and so on, but that belongs in the labs. What worries me is the negative impact that it’s likely to have on the financial backers. At a time like this we can’t afford that.”
It was too close to the way Corrigan’s own thoughts had been running for some time for him to be capable of making much of a show of surprise. Mainly out of curiosity to see where this was leading, he replied neutrally, “Has somebody been complaining?”
Pinder made a sucking noise through his teeth. “Not in so many words. But I’ve seen the looks and glances. And it’s something that stands to affect you personally as well, Joe. I think you owe it to yourself to give some thought to a side of things that you might not have considered very closely.”
“Oh?”
“Look at it this way. Eric has done some first-rate work in the past, I know—and I wouldn’t want to belittle any of that. But I have to ask, is he really suited to a senior position in the new style of organization that’s taking shape? You said it yourself—it’s a streamlined product of the times. And running it is going to require a management team who all share a common level of enthusiasm, personal ambition, and a conviction that the job can be done. One dissenting note could create discord throughout. Your own future hinges on the success of this in a big way, as I’m sure I don’t have to spell out. . . . So give me your opinion, straight. It’s not a time to let notions of personal loyalty obscure sound judgment.”