studying the machine on the card table.
She took one of the aisle seats and watched the way his hair curled up on the shoulders of his jacket. Her father wouldn't listen to a word Sam had to say once he caught sight of that hair, not to mention the Easter Island earring. Why had she promised Sam that she would try to set up an appointment?
She didn't want to think about her father, so she concentrated on the lively chaos in the auditorium. The confusion made her remember tours she had taken through the research and development labs at the Castle. Everything was always orderly in the FBT labs. Men with neat hair and necktie knots showing at the top of their white lab coats stood at well-defined work spaces. They spoke to each other respectfully. No one shouted. Certainly no one ever called a coworker's design "a monumental piece of shit."
What she saw in front of her now verged on anarchy. Vehement arguments were still breaking out. People were climbing up on chair arms and calling out the name of a piece of equipment they wanted to borrow. She remembered the plastic ID badges she had seen on those white FBT lab coats, the special pass even her father had to display. She remembered the locked doors, the uniformed security guards, and she thought about what Sam had said concerning the hacker heritage. Here in the environment of the Homebrew Computer Club, no one seemed to have any secrets. Everywhere she looked, she saw a free exchange of information. Apparently, none of them thought about holding back what they knew for personal profit.
Sam appeared in the aisle at her side. "Susannah, come on over and meet Yank. That crazy son of a bitch got color without adding any more chips. At the last meeting, he and Wozniak talked about running it off the CPU, but nobody really believed either one of them could do it."
"Incredible," she said, although she had only the vaguest idea what Sam was talking about.
"It might take me a minute to get his attention." Sam led her forward. "Yank, this is Susannah. The one I was talking about."
Yank didn't look up from his screen.
"Yank?"
"The son of a gun still won't synch up." Yank's eyes remained glued to what he was doing.
Sam looked over at her and shrugged. "He gets pretty involved when he's working."
"I can see that."
Sam tried again. "Yank?"
"Why the heck won't it synch up?"
"Maybe we should save introductions for another time," Susannah suggested.
"Yeah, I guess so."
As they began walking toward the back of the auditorium, she wished she hadn't spoken as if they had a future. There wouldn't be another time. After what had happened between them outside, she couldn't possibly see him again.
"So what do you think?" he asked.
"It's definitely an interesting group."
"It's not the only one, either. There are others all around the country—hundreds of hardware hackers getting together to build small computers." He studied her face for a moment. "Can't you see what's happening here? This is the vanguard of the future. That's why it's so important for me to talk to your father. Did you mean it when you said you'd set up that appointment?"
"I'll try," she said reluctantly, "but he may not agree."
"I'll give you my phone number. Call me when you arrange it."
" If I arrange it." She hesitated, knowing he would probably laugh at her, but also knowing her father too well. "There's one thing more…"
"What's that?"
"If I can make the appointment, you'll—you'll be careful how you dress, won't you?"
"Afraid I'll show up like this?"
She hastily denied the truth. "Oh, no. Of course not."
"Well, you're right. I will."
Her forehead creased with alarm. "Oh, no. I'm afraid that would be a terrible mistake. My father's from another generation. He doesn't understand people who don't wear a business suit. Or men who wear earrings. And you'll need to get your hair cut." Even as she spoke the words, she felt a stab of regret. She loved his hair. It seemed a part of him—free and
She took one of the aisle seats and watched the way his hair curled up on the shoulders of his jacket. Her father wouldn't listen to a word Sam had to say once he caught sight of that hair, not to mention the Easter Island earring. Why had she promised Sam that she would try to set up an appointment?
She didn't want to think about her father, so she concentrated on the lively chaos in the auditorium. The confusion made her remember tours she had taken through the research and development labs at the Castle. Everything was always orderly in the FBT labs. Men with neat hair and necktie knots showing at the top of their white lab coats stood at well-defined work spaces. They spoke to each other respectfully. No one shouted. Certainly no one ever called a coworker's design "a monumental piece of shit."
What she saw in front of her now verged on anarchy. Vehement arguments were still breaking out. People were climbing up on chair arms and calling out the name of a piece of equipment they wanted to borrow. She remembered the plastic ID badges she had seen on those white FBT lab coats, the special pass even her father had to display. She remembered the locked doors, the uniformed security guards, and she thought about what Sam had said concerning the hacker heritage. Here in the environment of the Homebrew Computer Club, no one seemed to have any secrets. Everywhere she looked, she saw a free exchange of information. Apparently, none of them thought about holding back what they knew for personal profit.
Sam appeared in the aisle at her side. "Susannah, come on over and meet Yank. That crazy son of a bitch got color without adding any more chips. At the last meeting, he and Wozniak talked about running it off the CPU, but nobody really believed either one of them could do it."
"Incredible," she said, although she had only the vaguest idea what Sam was talking about.
"It might take me a minute to get his attention." Sam led her forward. "Yank, this is Susannah. The one I was talking about."
Yank didn't look up from his screen.
"Yank?"
"The son of a gun still won't synch up." Yank's eyes remained glued to what he was doing.
Sam looked over at her and shrugged. "He gets pretty involved when he's working."
"I can see that."
Sam tried again. "Yank?"
"Why the heck won't it synch up?"
"Maybe we should save introductions for another time," Susannah suggested.
"Yeah, I guess so."
As they began walking toward the back of the auditorium, she wished she hadn't spoken as if they had a future. There wouldn't be another time. After what had happened between them outside, she couldn't possibly see him again.
"So what do you think?" he asked.
"It's definitely an interesting group."
"It's not the only one, either. There are others all around the country—hundreds of hardware hackers getting together to build small computers." He studied her face for a moment. "Can't you see what's happening here? This is the vanguard of the future. That's why it's so important for me to talk to your father. Did you mean it when you said you'd set up that appointment?"
"I'll try," she said reluctantly, "but he may not agree."
"I'll give you my phone number. Call me when you arrange it."
" If I arrange it." She hesitated, knowing he would probably laugh at her, but also knowing her father too well. "There's one thing more…"
"What's that?"
"If I can make the appointment, you'll—you'll be careful how you dress, won't you?"
"Afraid I'll show up like this?"
She hastily denied the truth. "Oh, no. Of course not."
"Well, you're right. I will."
Her forehead creased with alarm. "Oh, no. I'm afraid that would be a terrible mistake. My father's from another generation. He doesn't understand people who don't wear a business suit. Or men who wear earrings. And you'll need to get your hair cut." Even as she spoke the words, she felt a stab of regret. She loved his hair. It seemed a part of him—free and
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