Craig clamped a hand on my upper arm to silence me. He was a brilliant physicist, engineer, and innovator. He didn’t need me interrupting or interpreting. He flipped through the schematics faster than Benson had.
“It’s so sleek. Are these numbers right? Is it this compact? This rivals Microsoft’s Holo. I had no idea . . .” His voice drifted away as he became absorbed.
Someone tapped on his door. He pointed to it without looking up.
“Come in,” I called.
He glanced up, as if surprised the words didn’t sound like his voice.
Karen entered.
He flicked his hand to me, eyes back on the computer. “Karen asked to join us, and as you report to her, I agreed it was appropriate. Do you mind?”
Karen’s level stare dared me to protest.
“Not at all.”
“We’ve got Golightly.” Craig flapped his hand to her now. “Come . . . Come . . . You’ve got to see this.”
Karen walked around Craig’s desk on the opposite side and leaned in. He was scrolling so fast I could hardly keep up, and I knew what we were looking at. One glance at Karen and I could tell she was completely lost.
She straightened and backed away. I did the same.
“You did this?” She pointed a finger to me. Craig wasn’t paying attention to us.
“Benson did. I sent him my work on Friday and he designed final schematics. He’s been awake a few days, I think.”
Karen nodded and got lost somewhere in her own thoughts until Craig surprised us both by slapping Benson’s computer shut.
“We need a full meeting. Rally the troops. When’s that meeting with HP? And—”
“Can we deal with one thing at a time?” Karen nodded to me.
“Right. You’re leaving. Why are you leaving again?” Craig swung back and forth in his chair, trying to keep both Karen and me in sight.
To make it easier for him, we circled his desk and dropped into the two chairs facing it.
“Okay, then . . .” Craig pulled a tablet over. He’d already forgotten his question. “I looked up MedCore. Good company, innovative work, and you are right, Karen, it’s not in conflict with what we do here. But I’m sorry to lose you, Mary. Four years is a long time . . . Five years. We’re at five years . . . You’ve been invaluable to this company.” He looked up. “You’ve also been a good friend.”
I smiled. “We’ve been through a lot.”
“Haven’t we?” He blinked, as if just realizing that we held the same fond and frenetic memories. “It’s been a ride. Remember that first year when we—”
“That said . . .” Karen paused to clear her throat. “Growth is hard, and not everyone is equipped to handle the challenges. Procedural requirements and streamlining systems can rattle some people. I’m glad you found a company that fits your more fluid style. I think MedCore is half our size?”
“It is. They have a small line. In fact, all resources are focused on one product, a new dissolving non-lithium battery for humans.”
“How interesting.” Karen’s tone said it was anything but.
“Mary offered to see out the two weeks.” Craig looked between us. He widened his eyes and held them a few beats. It was his token gesture for Go figure out the details yourselves.
Karen bristled. “I hardly think that’s necessary. I’ve had every member of my team catalogue their work, down to the last detail, for the past six months. It was meant to bring me up to speed and highlight inefficiencies, but in both cases now, it serves as a line of sight to past interaction and future projects.”
“Both cases . . .” Craig’s focus drifted above and beyond us.
Karen squirmed, pushed herself straighter, and rushed on. “The procedures already in place minimize any disruption.”
“Fine.” Something hardened within Craig’s eyes. He dropped them back to his tablet. “Did they throw good money your way?”
I blinked.
“They should. Talk to finance. Moira will know; she can tell you what you’re worth.” Craig bounced back in his chair. “I certainly haven’t been paying you enough.”
“Craig.” Karen’s voice held a warning.
“What? She’s an engineer like me and loves the work. They’ll pay her less than she deserves if she doesn’t know.”
Loves the work . . . I found myself nodding.
Craig looked at his watch. “Any last words of wisdom for us?”
“I hardly think that’s necessary,” Karen interjected.
“Mary’s been here for five years. She was my . . .” He looked back to me. “Fourth hire?”
“Fourth hire,” I confirmed.
Craig smiled slow and long. “What fun we’ve had. It’s been a good run so far . . . Let me have it. What do we need to do different, better, faster? After all, there’s a reason you’re leaving.”
“Craig—”
He held up his hand. “I contend Mary knows this business almost as well as I do, and I’d like her opinion. We started as a group of engineers. That’s what made us great, and if two are walking out my door, I want to know how to prevent number three.”
I felt my lips part. Benson was at my desk. It had to be Rodriguez. I glanced to Karen. The skin under her eyes sagged against her glasses. Her mouth was pursed tight.
“Umm . . . I’d be careful not to put too many layers in place. Procedures, while necessary, can curb creativity, especially for your engineers and the physicists.” I peeked at Karen. Her face was rigid, but she didn’t interrupt.
Craig nodded.
“We’re introverts—at least the ones you’ve got on board now. We need our quiet time to think, but we also need the freedom of uncensored and unmonitored interaction. We work alone, then play off each other to get the best out of our ideas. Until Golightly, I worked that way too. This project, it took over in a way I can’t explain.” I shook my head. “But back to your question, too many layers and rules make us feel watched and stifled. We know most ideas won’t fly, 90 percent, but we need that ninety without feeling the pressure that each one has to justify its existence. Those ninety failures give birth to the ten that make WATT so great.”
“To some degree, those 90 percent do need to justify their existence. Every idea pulls resources. We need to keep the lights on here.” Karen’s voice reminded me of Isabel’s when she’d spoken so sharply to Clara.
“Obviously.” I spoke to Craig. “But don’t make teamwork and all the buzzwords thrown around here a mandate. Let people come together to collaborate on their own. We already do.”
I thought about Benson, who always came for help in the afternoons around three o’clock when his energy lagged and, when he relaxed, expanded his conversation topics from science to science and Star Trek. I thought about Moira, who handled the financials and teased the engineers and physicists when we began to run a project anywhere close to “red.” Her chiding put us on track because we wanted to do things right, not because she rapped our knuckles. She also sang gospel songs under her breath as she worked and made everyone feel better. I thought about Lucas, how he stayed late every Friday, sometimes into the wee hours of Saturday, until his week’s programming work was done and he could tap his You Will Never Have This Day Again So Make It Count poster on his way out the door.