© 2000 Donald Brown

Barry leaned back from the computer and rubbed his eyes. Five straight all-nighters and it was finished. “House of Sage” was ready to be shown. That was supposed to be just a code name until the marketing guys came up with something better, but that wasn’t going to happen. Mr. Jacobson, the president, said it was a great name, this is where the wise men are. Barry didn’t have heart to tell him that it was named after his cat Sage. Besides, said Jacobson, we’ve got to work on Internet Time, it’ll do, and speed is off the essence.

Well, speak of the devil. Sage had just jumped up into Barry’s lap. Barry scratched Sage’s head until he heard a loud purr. At least there was one part of his life not set for Internet Time.

Sage snuggled closer to Barry, which was his signal that the scratching was over and it was time for petting. Barry obliged, started going over the checklist for House of Sage. Amazingly, it was all done.

Jacobson had the brainstorm of creating a gathering place for smart people on the web, and work it in so they would then answer questions for people, contests for the best answers, money for helping out, and lots to keep them challenged. “Think MENSA meets About dot com.” The idea had seemed stupid, but as Jacobson fleshed it out, it would work.

Sam, the programming team leader, guessed that we could have it working in 9 months. But that wasn’t good enough. “Our industry lives on Internet Time, we’ve got to keep up. 9 months from now, everything may be upside down.  Can we get this done within a month?” And so that was the deadline.

Hell of a month. Oh, Jacobson did right by his people—anything they needed, they got, and there were big bonuses waiting on shipment as well as a piece of the pie. But the deadline was inflexible.

That was cool. Barry thrived on Internet Time. Everyone else on the team burned out a week or so ago, so he had to take more of it on. Five days ago, there was still two weeks work left. So Barry packed up his computer, went home, locked the door, turned on the stereo, and went to work. The only time he left the computer was to go to the bathroom or to nuke something in the microwave or to grab a Dew or to feed Sage. Sleep was a short nap in his chair now and then. No email, no web surfing, just get it done.

And it was done. Barry looked at the clock on his monitor, two in the morning. He’d even get some sleep before he brought it in. The thought of bed was tempting, but Sage was asleep on his lap. He’d been ignoring Sage, so Barry leaned back and drifted off again.

Nine o’clock. Much better. Barry rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Better call the office and tell them I’m coming in. What—oh. Better plug the phone in, call the office, and tell them I’m coming in.

Barry dialed the number, waited for Nancy to answer. But instead, tones, and “The number you are calling is out of order or disconnected. Please call again.” Barry shook his head, must be more tired than I thought, and dialed again. Same tones, same response.

What happened? Maybe there’s something on the company website or email—but neither the company website or email server could be found.

Must be some serious problems down there, maybe a major blackout? But Jacobson would be there anyway, and he’d be happy to see what he had. Danny has a laptop; we can watch it on that. A shower and a change, then Barry grabbed the hard disk and headed downtown.

There was a police barricade two blocks from the office. Barry parked and walked around them, clutching the hard drive. He walked a block…then stopped. He could see the office from there. He could see where the office had been.

Jacobson Digital had been on the second floor of the Anders Building, near the front. Pretty nice location, Jacobson had some influence with the building’s owners. The front half of the building had been ripped apart and was lying in rubble. During the days after the Oklahoma Federal Building, there had been some dark humor about Ryder trucks parked by the entrance. But it was just a joke.

“You there!” A cop had spotted Barry. “Get back behind the barricades, you’re interfering with a police investigation.”

Barry stood, stunned. “What happened?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. So far, it looks like the lunatic had done just what she said she did, but if we find anything else it’ll be on the news.”

“But, when did…”

“When did it happen? Buddy, are you all right?” The cop went up to Barry and tried to sniff Barry’s breath. “Are you all right? Everybody knows about this.”

Barry never took his eyes off the disaster. “I’ve been at home working on a project for five days, I work here. What happened?”

The cop shook his head. “Sorry to hear that. There’s—there was a small company on the second floor called Jacobson Digital. Five days ago, one of its employees, Alice Grant, drove a rented truck through the entrance windows and blew it up. Three hundred people died. A tape arrived in the mail from the loony, explaining who had done it and why she had to do it. She definitely rented the truck and caught by some security cameras driving the truck into the building. What company did you work for? Some managed to make it out before it went up.”

Flat, monotone. “Jacobson Digital. Anybody survive there?”

“What? We thought everyone from there was killed. HEY, SARGE!!!!”

Things were rather blurry from that stage. Barry was taken downtown and asked questions. Lots of questions. What was Alice like, did he like her, did they go out, did he know she liked explosives, did he like explosives. The thing seared into his memory was when they showed him the videotape. Alice, holding back tears, talking about how she couldn’t keep it up, how it was all insane, how they all deserved to die for pushing so hard. And how Barry was so inhuman, set a pace nobody could keep, he had to be stopped. Alice asking for forgiveness for the innocents who would die, but it was necessary to stop them.

After the questions were over, the officer suggested Barry see a doctor for some help. Barry thanked him. He were obviously confused, Barry hadn’t been sick, just working, but no sense in correcting him. The officer also gave Barry his card, saying, “Right now, everybody thinks you’re dead, so you’ll want to call your friends and family and let them know. If your bank or whoever needs confirmation you’re still around, have them call me.”

Barry thought about that on the ride home. No family. His parents died years ago and his brother—why spoil his brother’s pleasure at thinking he’s dead. But yeah, friends…except all of his friends were in that building. Oh, there were a few people on his email address book, people he’d met at conventions and such, but he doubted they would have remembered him. There were his professors and some friends at college, but that was 10 years ago, an eternity in Internet Time.

At home, Barry dug out an old employee address list. He changed into his best suit, and went to visit the families of the other people at the office.

Barry got home late, soaked with sweat. He dumped the jacket on a chair and slumped into his computer chair. What a day. These had been his best friends, and yet he didn’t know any of their families and didn’t know what to say. And Sam—Sam had gotten divorced and remarried since that sheet. Karen was the name of the new wife, and didn’t find it funny to be call Maggie.

He’d gotten around to all of them. All but Alice’s parents, and Jacobson’s family. He had met Alice’s parents. There had been a time when he and Alice tried to have a relationship, and the meeting of the parents was included. But it didn’t work. Alice kept wanting to go out and “do something”; as though programming and web surfing wasn’t something. It was a friendly split; at least Barry thought so. But how could Barry face Alice’s parents after seeing that video?

As for Jacobson’s family—Barry didn’t know if he had any. He had lived alone; the team had been over to his apartment for informal powwows from time to time. He’d never talked about anything except the company, except the projects they were working on. Barry had always admired that sort of focus, but now what?

Well, let’s see what the Internet knows about Jacobson. Barry went to the computer, booted it up—and someone was knocking at the door. Barry got up, opened it, and winced at the glare of the light off a floodlight.

A young man stepped forward, held out a microphone, and said “Eric Conrad, Channel Seven News Today. Mr. Berg, we understand that you weren’t in the tragic bombing downtown as everyone thought and in fact you had spent the past week at home and just heard about this today. Is that true?”

Barry nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Mr. Berg, what are your reactions to this incident? How does it feel to know that your company and everyone else who worked there were blown up five days ago, while you were here playing on your computer?”

“It, uh—I wasn’t playing, I was working. As for how it feels…it sucks, OK?”

The reporter waited for Barry to continue. When Barry didn’t, the reporter said, “We understand that you’ve seen the Alice tape, where she blames you for pushing too hard. Do you think you are responsible for this tragedy?”

Barry was stunned, even the police hadn’t put it that way. “No. We were just working on Internet time. If Alice couldn’t keep up, she shouldn’t have been there.”

“So you think it’s OK that several hundred people are dead because some geeks needed to work quickly.”

Barry thought for a moment, nothing came. He stepped back and slammed the door. Through the door, he could hear, “Well. As you can see, Mr. Berg is unwilling to face the public. Back to you, Alan.”

Barry once asked Jacobson why he didn’t do more press appearances to get the company some press. He’d never understood the answer he got back. Until today. Well, back to the Internet search.

Two hours later, Barry was looking at his notes. He hadn’t learned anything new about the incident, other than the unique experience of reading his name among the list of people killed. There was a story listing the various memorials for those who had been lost. Most of his coworkers has already been mourned and buried. Shame that he couldn’t have been there to give his respects, but he had to admire the efficiency. The only upcoming memorial for any of them was for Mr. William Jacobson. It said he was survived by a brother Sean. Barry went looking for information on Sean, but couldn’t find any. Must have used a fake name when on the Internet.

The service was at 11:00 am; it was around midnight, eleven hours to kill. Barry didn’t feel much like sleeping, so might as well make good use of the time. The prize award system in House of Sage could still use some tweaking, and there’s some more time to work on it. First impressions are important, so Jacobson’s brother needed to see his best stuff.

“No, Alice, I…OW!” Barry woke up on the floor. He must have fallen asleep in his chair, and fallen off. Strange, he’d never had that happen before.

Oh shit. It was ten o’clock. Feed the cat, grab a quick shower (hope his hair dries out on the trip over), new shirt, tie, jacket—where did I leave that jacket? Barry looked around, and saw it in the chair. Sage’s sitting chair. It was covered with cat hair. Barry shook it once and saw a few hairs fall off. Oh, well, dark suit, black cat, who will notice? He grabbed the CDs he’d created last night and ran for the car.

He was still late. As usual. For someone who had made a reputation on beating impossible deadlines, making appointments on time seemed beyond his grasp. Jacobson one said that Barry would be late to his own funeral, Barry said he’d just be late for Jacobson’s funeral.  Damn it.

The service was going on, almost done. A guy about his age was singing a song of loss. Not bad. Barry sneaked in and sat in a pew near the rear of the church. A rather empty church. Dozen people, maybe two. Barry looked for someone who might be the brother, someone with that Jacobson hungry look, but no likely candidates.

After the song was done, the pastor led the singer to one of the pews, and then faced the group. “Our friend William Jacobson, Billy to his friends, has left us. Left us in a violent act that left us with no body to bury. But that’s not important. He’s with our Father. And as long as we keep him Billy in our hearts, he will be with us too. So go with peace, and remember the he is in a better place.”

The organ played, and the pastor said, “That concludes our service. As I explained earlier, we’ve got a wedding scheduled right after this, so please take the memories of our friend with you as you go home. Thank you for understanding.”

That was unusual, thought Barry. But I suppose buildings aren’t blown up every day here. He hoped he could ask the pastor to point the brother out to him, but the pastor had already gotten away. The singer was still there, maybe he knew.

As he got close to the singer, Barry could see that he was crying. “Are you OK?”

“Yeah. It’s just…hard”

“Nice song.”

“Thanks.”

“If funerals are this hard on you, maybe you ought to pass on these gigs. It’s not like it was your brother or something.”

It took a moment for the comment to sink into the singer. When it did, expressions of anger and confusion battled for position on his face. “What do you mean by that crack?”

Barry shrugged. “No offense. I was just hoping you knew who had set up this ceremony, if you could introduce me Mr. Jacobson’s brother.”

Confusion won the fight, to be replaced with clarity, and then humor. The singer started to laugh. Gasping for breath, he managed to say, “You’re talking to him” before the next gale of laughter.

“Talking to…oh. Oh, shit. Man, am I sorry.”

The singer, Sean, had finally gained control of himself. “It’s all right, I saw you sneak in late. And I really needed a laugh, haven’t had one in a week.” He looked around; they were starting to set up decorations for the wedding. “They want us out of here, let’s go get lunch.”

Barry nodded. “Sure. Uh, I’m Barry…”

Sean held up a hand. “You’re Barry Berg, programmer at Jacobson Digital, mentioned in the video, but you were at home working on a computer program while all this happened, and only found out yesterday. Your story is front-page news.”

Barry sighed. “Yeah, that’s me. It’s not how I wanted to become famous.”

“Not what I would have liked for the family name either.” A rueful smile appeared on Sean’s face. “Don’t worry, you’re not famous, you’re just flashing in the pan. Next month, you’ll be the answer to a trivia question.”

Barry laughed. “I’m not sure I like that better. Where shall we eat?”

Sean thought for a moment. “There’s a nice Mexican place on Crawford Street, near the downtown Marriott. Do you need a ride? I’ve got a rental I’m using.”

“Nope, I’ll meet you there.”

Back in his car, Barry took the opportunity to slam his palm into his forehead. “IDIOT!!!!!” Thank Euclid that his brother has a sense of humor. OK, how do I explain House of Sage to him? He’s got to be a web surfer, so what analogies, can I use to explain it?

At the restaurant, before Barry could start his presentation, Sean leaned back and said, “Tell me about my big brother.”

“I don’t understand.”

“This year, I doubt I had three conversations with him, and that was just by phone.  It’s been that way for years, ever since he got into computers in a big way.  You knew my brother better than I did, so can you share that with me?”

Barry nodded and thought back.  “I’ve only known Jacobson since the Mayfair project, and I was always impressed with his ability to pull people and technologies together.  It was really inspiring, how he could read of a new technology and come up with something wonderful. Jacobson was a real giant of the industry, even if it wasn’t always appreciated.

“And Jacobson was a great guy to work for.  He was always there to kick in.  When one of us pulled a late night, he was always there to help out.  Nothing was beneath him; he’d call out for pizza or make a run to get a computer part, to make the job happen.  He was the boss, there was no doubt about it, but he was also one of us.”

Sean’s eyes were moistening up.  “How about friends, how about love interest, anything other than the job?”

Barry laughed.  “Jacobson always said those things didn’t work under Internet Time.  But I think I was a friend, I think everyone there was a friend.”

Sean sneered.  “You say you’re a friend, but you call him by his last name.  You say Jacobson, not Willy, or even Billy as that stupid preacher said.”

Barry shrugged.  “Jacobson was everybody called him.  Just like Arthur was called ‘SuperGeek’, it’s what we called him.  And Jacobson was my friend.  When my parents died, even though we were under deadline for the Murphy project, Jacobson arranged an extension and went with me to take care of the details.  We spent eight days there, and only came back when I was ready.”

Barry smiled.  “And Jacobson was funny.  Any time things got too tense, he found something to liven it up.  He created the Traditional Nerf War that was held after every ship date.  When the Kirk project wasn’t going well, he called us all into his office to talk about it.  When we got back to our room, someone had put plastic sheets over our computers and desks and such, and left a very large supply of cream pies.  When the fight was over, and we were all covered with cream, Jacobson showed us the camera he’d hidden.  Watching the video was one of our ways of handling stress.”

Sean laughed.  “When we were kids, Mom and Dad were preparing a banquet for some visiting dignitary.  Willy and I were left alone with this big tray of cream pies, and I still say he threw the first pie.  We got in big trouble over it.  Willy said that someday he’d do it without getting in trouble, but I never believed it!   Where is the video?”

Barry’s face fell.  “The only copy I know of was at the office.  Damn.  I wish I had a copy, both for you and for me.”

“Well, you’ve got the memory, at least.  Treasure it.”

“Thanks.  Oh, here’s another good one,” said Barry.  “SuperGeek had been in a motorcycle accident and out for six weeks.  Frankly, it left us shorthanded on the Gammon project, but Jacobson made it all right.  When SuperGeek was ready to return, Jacobson arranged for a special greeting.  He’d pulled strings to have the streets shut down a block from the office.  Jacobson arranged to give a ride to SuperGeek that first day.  When SuperGeek got out at the far end of the block, a brass band from the local college was waiting for him.  And you know those chairs that princes ride in, carried by their servants? Sedan chairs?  They had one.  SuperGeek got in, a bunch of the cheerleaders picked it up, and they marched down the street to the building’s entrance. “

Barry gave out a great sigh.  “I don’t think any of us ever felt prouder to be associated with your brother than that day.  Jacobson was a great guy.  I’m still having trouble believing he’s gone.  That they’re all gone.”

Sean nodded.  “Me too.  So how about you, Barry, what’ your life like?  Outside of work, I mean.”

Barry shrugged.  “There isn’t much outside of work.  Oh, a little fooling around on the Internet, but I love my job.  It’s who I am.”

“How about your cat?”

“My cat?  How do…was it in the newspaper story.”

“No,” said Sean.  He pointed to Barry’s lapel.  “Long-haired black cat, right?”

“Right.”  Barry chuckled.  “Sage slept on the jacket last night.  I’ve had Sage for three, four years now.  He was a gift from Alice, when we were breaking up.  She said I needed someone to keep me grounded.”

“Alice…not the video Alice?”

“The one and the same.  We had a relationship years ago, it didn’t work out.  We were friends; at least I thought so.  And if you’re going to ask me why she might have done it—I have no idea, I’ve been thinking about that, and coming up blank.”

“Sorry.  Back to your cat.”

“Well, Sage is a pretty cool cat.  Loves being petted, a really cool purr, it helps me think.  He loves the heat of the monitor, so while I’m working late or just goofing off, he’s always there.  The only problem is when he takes a shortcut across the keyboard.”

“I…see.”  Sean smiled.  “Glad you found a pet that fit your life.  I’ve been thinking about one, but I spend a lot of time on the road.”

Barry leaned back.  “So what’s the Sean Jacobson story?”

“Barry, every heard of Jacobson Industries?”

“Sure, but…wait, you and Jacobson…THAT Jacobson?”

Sean smiled.  “Granddad started it with in one small warehouse, he turned it into the biggest iron foundry in the state, and Dad turned it into a diversified multi-national by age 50.  Dad knew early on that I was never going to carry on his legacy, but everyone expected Willy to be the third generation leader.  That’s what Willy was groomed for, that’s what Willy intended, until he started working on the company’s rudimentary computer system.  He found he had a real skill for computers, and a love for it.”

“That sounds like Jacobson.”

“Dad kept working on Willy, and given enough time he might have succeed.  But fate intervened.  In 1977, Mom and Dad were flying up to a trade show in Nantucket.  There was a storm, and they didn’t make it.”

Sean said that very matter-of-factly, but Barry caught a slight tremor in his voice.

“Dad had a vice-president, Mr. Phillips.  When Willy expressed no interest in the big chair, Mr. Phillips was willing to do so, under one condition.  We had to sell our stock in the company, so he never felt like we were looking over his shoulder.  Actually, Willy looking over his shoulder, he knew I had no interest.  It was an easy decision for both of us, I think, certainly for me.  I put my money in some safe investments to give me income while I pursue my art, Willy threw his into computers.”

Barry pursed his lips.  “Sounds like you didn’t approve.”

Sean laughed.  “Actually, I didn’t care where he put his money, though it seemed very risky and he lost a lot more than he made.  But he threw his life into it too, just gave it all up.  And look what it got him.”

“Mr. Jacobson, your brother was a respected force in the industry.  He has created some incredible things.”

Sean slammed his fist on the table.  “If he was so damned respected, where were they?  You saw the service.  His banker, his lawyer, his landlord, and some other people he did business with.  The one person who says he was Willy’s friend was late, and he was Willy’s employee!”

Barry was getting a little steamed.  “Yes, I was late.  I do that a lot, it says nothing about my respect for Jacobson, which couldn’t be higher.  As for why others aren’t here, I don’t know.  But he was respected.  And he made a lot of people’s lives better.  A year ago, Jacobson went through the files and figured out that we’d made five hundred twelve thousand people’s lives better.”

Sean rubbed his forehead.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t…it’s just that I told him for years that this environment he’d created would kill him, that humans aren’t supposed to live on what he called ‘Internet Time’.  I just thought it would be a heart attack, not…this.”

OK, this was the opening Barry had been waiting for.  “But he accomplished a lot.  And his final accomplishment, the thing that would be helping millions of people, it still exists.”  Barry removed the CDs from his pocket and placed them on the table.  “Here it is, the House of Sage.”

Sean looked at the CDs, picked them up, turned them over.  “This was the project you all were working on, at the end?”

“Yes.”

Sean flagged down a waiter, handed the CDs to him, and said “Please dispose of those.”  The waiter took them away as Barry sat stunned.  When the waiter was gone, Sean scowled at Barry and said, “That project killed my brother.  It is to be destroyed.  Delete any files, destroy any notes you have at home about it.  It is never to see the light of day.”

Barry shook off the surprise.  “You can’t do that.  Lots of us worked very hard on it, what gives you the right…”

“As Willy’s sole heir, him having died intestate, I now own Jacobson Digital.  Any remaining assets are going to be sold, divided equally among the families of those killed, except for Grant family.”

“That’s not fair…”

“You’ll get a share too.”

“I don’t mean that.  The Grants are good people, who really depended on Alice’s income.  I’ll never understand why she did what she did, but the Grants didn’t do it.”

Sean thought for a moment.  “Fair enough.  Happy?”

“Thank you.  Do you want me to find a buyer for House of Sage?  I think I’ve got some contacts that will help me get a higher price than you can.”

“No.  That project is to be destroyed.  It will not be sold.”

“But…”

“No.  It’s not open for discussion.”

“But…”

“I said no.  It’s company property, I own the company, I make the call.  Are you going to make this messy?”

“Excuse me, sirs, are you ready to order?”

Barry glared across the table, then said,  “I’ve lost my appetite.  Goodbye” as he left the restaurant.

When Barry got home, he hung up the jacket.  “Don’t worry, Sage, I’ll protect you from that jackass’s stink.”  He then checked the answering machine.  Sixty-three messages?  Maybe there were people I should’ve told.  Let’s see who called.

“Mr. Berg, this is Eric Conrad from last night, I think we got off on the wrong foot…”

“Mr. Berg, this is Betty Arnold from the National Enquirer, we’re working a story about the torrid love affair…”

“Mr. Berg, this is John Randolph from the Evening Times, we’d like to get an inside view on the powder keg that killed so many…”

They were all like that.  Barry deleted them all.  Maybe if he ever had something to say it would be different, but he didn’t know anything else.  One of the ABC newsmagazines wanted an interview about how he was feeling, but he wasn’t sure how he felt.  Pissed off that Jacobson’s stupid brother wanted to kill something good.  But about the bombing, about the loss, still in shock I guess.  Every friend he had was killed; he couldn’t really just feel empty about it.

Well, when all else fails, get to work.  The company servers had been wiped out, but SuperGeek had arranged a deal with DigiGadgets where each would maintain a backup server for the other.  A few commands sent, and bingo, Barry’s got mail. 

But the web site needed changing.  Barry put together a straightforward page that explained that due to the tragedy (include a link to a page with some coverage of the incident) the company was shut down and would be so for the foreseeable future, email him.   A few mouseclicks, and the web page was up.  Barry was evaluating it when the phone rang.

“Mr. Berg, this is Eric Conrad, I’m sorry about last night, it’s been a rough time for all of us.”

“I gotcha.  Thanks.”

“No, wait, my editor wants an on-air interview about what happened.”

“I’ve got nothing to say, so no.”

“Don’t you want to clear up any rumors about your involve…”

Barry ripped the phone out of the wall and went back to the computer.  This wasn’t enough.  Most people didn’t know the people involved in the company, they had to know.  Just a simple memorial page.  He had some digital photos to include, some stories.  It turned into a dozen pages, with sections on everyone.  Even Alice.  Whatever happened, for so long, she’d been part of them.

When Barry was finally satisfied and sent it to the server, his vision was blurry with tears.  Sage, who had sat quietly by while Barry worked, leapt into Barry’s arms.  Barry cuddled Sage while he cried himself to sleep.

Barry woke up the next morning, Sage still resting in his arms.  That’s that, he thought.  A night of mourning.  On Internet Time, that should be sufficient.  But he still felt so bad.

When things were difficult, Barry had always found solace in habit.  Feed the cat, grab the shower, start fetching mail, check the web site bulletin board…oh.  That board wasn’t around any more.  But Barry had added a guest book to his memorial where people could leave comments.  Let’s see if any…oh, my God.  Thousands of comments.  There were a number of stories about how one of their products had helped people, but far more about experiences with someone at the company.  Helping people, inspiring people, just being kind.  At work and elsewhere.  Brian read them all.  Each one lightened his mood.

He checked the mail, lots more personal notes and wishes.  People he’d met in the industry, and even the people from college.  As he read their notes, the memories came back sharply.  Not so long ago after all.

But then…a message that made Barry catch his breath.  From William Jacobson.  What? Oh, it was sent from Sean, using Jacobson’s email address.  “Come see me at Willy’s apartment.  I tried calling, but your phone was out of order.”  Barry was still annoyed at Sean, but went.

When Barry knocked at the door, Sean opened it, tears in his eyes.  “Please, come in!”  Barry followed Sean to Jacobson’s old desk.  Jacobson’s laptop was open, on, and it was showing the memorial site that Barry had created. 

Sean put his hand on top of the monitor and said, “I was checking out Willy’s computer, and apparently he had it set to show the company Internet site when it turned on.  I saw what you had created.  Beautiful.  Thank you.”

Brian shrugged.  “I needed to do something, and it seemed appropriate.  Did you see the memorials page?”

Sean smiled.  “Yes.  I didn’t believe you when you talked about how many people Willy and the rest of you had touched, I was wrong, and I’m sorry.”

“I, well, it’s OK.”

Sean’s face lit up.  “The reason I asked you over is that I’ve got something for you to see!”  He crossed the room to Jacobson’s entertainment center, and opened a drawer. 

“Watch!”  Sean put a tape in the VCR, hit play, and on the TV was the cream pie fight!

“Jacobson made a copy!”

“Not just that.”  Sean changed tapes, and there was SuperGeek being carried while the marching band played.

And there was more.  Scenes from when they moved into that building.  Shots from the Nerf wars.  Danny’s wedding party.  The party where they celebrated completing the McMillin project.

As the last tape finished, Sean said, “I now know what you meant.  Willy did good, and he enjoyed his life.”

Barry was still thinking about the scenes.  “Can I get a copy?  It would mean a lot.”

Sean smiled.  “I’ll have copies made for all the families.  Yes, Alice’s family too, maybe it’ll help them hold on to something lighter.”  His voice now tightened, just a bit.  “I found Willy’s notes on House of Sage.  How close is it to finished?  Are you proud of it?  Would it have made Willy proud?”

Barry, startled, thought for a moment, then started his explanation.  “Basically, it’s a way to bring…”

“I know what it is, Willy described it.  He was very excited about it.  Is it good?  Is it done?”

Barry had to refocus.  He thought about it, then said, “It’s really good.  It was a brilliant idea, and we did a lot with it.  It’s going to be profitable, and it will be profitable because it will fill the need for a lot of people.  Your basic win-win situation, the only kind worth going for.  Is it done—it could be put out now, but to be as good as it could be, it needs a few days of polishing.”

“Is that work that anyone can do, or does it require your skills?”

Barry thought for a moment.  “Well, it’s not particularly difficult.  But I’d want to do it.”

Sean leaned back, closed his eyes, and thought.  After a short time, he said, “The House of Sage, where did the name come from?”

Barry shrugged.  “Jacobson thought it was a cool name, for pulling wisdom together.”

“That’s not what I asked.  Where did the name come from?”

A little sheepishly, “I named it after my cat.”

Sean chuckled.  “Willy knew, I found it in his notes.  He hired a firm to come up with a name, but when the project became more and more your work, he thought it was only right to let you name it.”

Barry laughed.  “You’re kidding!  You mean he knew I had a cat?”

“Apparently once you accidentally submitted a vet bill to the insurance company.  The insurance company kicked it back, and Willy paid it.”

“He didn’t.  Yeah, he would.  Your brother was one of a kind.”

“Thanks.”  Sean shifted position uneasily.  “In Willy’s notes, I found out that there was a company he wanted to become a partner on this venture, but they didn’t want to be in a partnership.  They wanted to buy it outright, and pay a pretty good price.  But part of the deal was that they take the project over completely.  No programmers, no services, simple buy-out.  Interested?  You’d have to give the project up, but you’d be rich, so would all the families.”

Barry blinked.  Blinked twice.  “Not finish it?  But…it’ll feel like handing my baby over to another woman after 8 months to finish the birth!  You can’t…what’s so funny?”

Sean had started to laugh, pointed at the ceiling and said, “You nailed it, Willy!”  When he caught his breath, he said, “Willy turned them down flat, he figured you wouldn’t like that, and even said you’d compare it to turning over a baby after 8 months of pregnancy.  Don’t worry, you won’t have to.”

Sean stuck out his hand.  Barry grabbed it by habit.  Sean shook the hand while saying, “Congratulations, you now own the House of Sage.  Do what you want with it, just leave me out of it.”

Barry started to grin, then shook his head.  “This was a team effort, it wasn’t just mine, I can’t…”

“If you want to give away part of it to the other families, you can, and from what I’ve seen of you I’m sure you will.  Just leave me out of it.  I still can’t stop associating it with Willy’s death.  I hope you make it something great.”

Barry’s grin had grown wide.  “I will.  And thank you, thank you so much!”

Sean lifted a hand.  “I’d like to ask a favor.”

“Name it!”

“I want to read you something from Willy’s diary.”

Barry shrugged.  “Sure.  I already know he’s a Trekkie, so how much worse can it get?”

“This isn’t about him, it’s about you.”  Sean pulled a book from the shelves, opened to a marked spot, and started to read.  For a moment, it almost sounded like Jacobson reading.

“I love these kids, but sometimes I wonder if I’m doing the right thing.  Barry—sometimes he scares me.  It’s work, work, and only work with him.  He’s brilliant, but he pushes himself so hard, I don’t know what he’ll do to himself when he hits his limit.  And I don’t think there’s anything to his life outside of work.  He’s in a comfortable rut, a rut travelling 100 miles per hour but still a rut.  If anything ever jolts him out of it, will he be ale to deal with it?”

Sean turned a page.  “Dear God, forgive me for talking to Barry about Internet Time, things running 10 times as fast so we’ve got to go 10 times as fast.  It was a joke, but Barry took it on as a lifestyle.  What’s going to happen when he hits a wall?  Will he forgive me?  Will I forgive myself?”

Sean closed the book, stared Barry in the eye, and asked, “If your computers were all taken away and you could never touch one again, what would be left of Barry Berg?”

Barry thought.  And thought.  Finally he gave a deep sigh and said, “Sage, I guess.”

“Turns out Willy wasn’t infallible after all—he thought you’d say nothing.  Barry, Willy was worried about all of your group, but particularly you, that you didn’t have enough living in your life.”

“Well, there’ll be time for that later.”

“SuperGeek didn’t have time for it later.  Alice didn’t have time for it later.  And your other people managed to squeeze some bits of living between the work.  Willy never had the time to talk to you about this, so I have to.”

Barry snapped back.  “How dare you use the deaths of my friends?”

“How dare you not learn from them?  You really scared Willy with this last project.  He was going to talk to you about it when it was done.  He didn’t get the chance, so it fell to me.”

“Message sent, thanks for doing so.”

There was silence in the room.  Finally, Barry said, “So now what do we do?”

Sean shrugged.  “For me, I figure I’ll be here another week or so taking care of everything.  I’ve got a top-flight tax-accountant that says we can minimize the taxes as we distribute the assets of the company.  Then it’s back on the concert scene, because someday I’m going to move up from opening act to the headliner.”

“Cool.  What’s your web site?”

“Don’t have one.”  Sean laughed.  “Never had a web site, never owned a computer, never done web surfing, never done email.”

“You’re kidding.  Why not?”

“Never saw the reason.  OK, OK, Willy kept pushing me and pushing me to get one and I never would.  I think there’s a little mule in the family DNA.”

Barry laughed.  “Jacob…Willy had it too, you never changed his mind by opposing him.  But, hey, keep his laptop.  I’ll set it up for you and show you how to use it, for simple stuff at least.”

“Well,” said Sean, “let’s make it a deal.  I’ll take the computer and use it, if you get off Internet Time.”

Barry thought about that.  “That’s an awfully high cost.  Tell you what.  Let me make a web site for you, and I’ll do it.”

“Well…”

“Hey, it’ll be fun.”

“OK, but that means you have to come to some concerts in order to meet the band.”

“Of course!”

“Done!”

The two formally shook hands.  Barry stood up, stretched, and said, “I’ll be back tomorrow to help you set up the computer.  But I think I want to go home and do some planning, and Sage always helps me with that.”

Sean said, “Why don’t I come to your place so I can meet Sage?  I’ve got Willy’s address book.”

“If you’re not excessively fastidious, sure.  Oh, do you sing under your own name or do you have a stage name?”

“Mine, why?”

“Just curious.  Hmm…SeanJacobson dot co…Oh.”  Barry stopped just short of the door, removed his watch, dropped it to the floor, and crushed it with his foot.  “It was a present from Jacobson, but I don’t think he’ll mind.  See you tomorrow!”  Barry left, whistling to himself.

Sean got up, curious.  He picked up the remains of the watch, and started to laugh.  He could still make out the face of the watch, and it had two digital displays, one labeled “Normal Time” and the other labeled “Internet Time”.