"Those fumes, my friends, smell like progress. And if a few people of small vision chose to cling to their ways, to prefer the smell of horse crap to exhaust, did we stop them? We did not. We simply asked that they keep to the side with their carriages and ugly clothing, and leave room for the future to roar past.
"But," he said, winking at the most senior of the VPs, "I'd rather be in my BMW Z4."
He sat. They signed.
This is the New Paradigm. We're dealing in the future as a commodity, buying and selling and shaping the world that is to be. In this world, you're visible or you're dead. And that's why every player in Manhattan is going to spend Millennium Eve with us.
#
Second week of December, and still no monkeys.
I called the VP of Primate Shipping, who swore they would arrive shortly. As we hung up, I heard him mutter something disparaging in which the words "dotcom" and "wacko" were clearly audible. I considered calling back to ask how much his stock options were worth, but I decided to be the bigger man.
However, monkeys or no, the insurgency that is Cobalt has begun. At the moment it's solely the Pod People, who live in rooms equipped with cameras that cover every angle of their lives, from their compact Pod Beds to the communal Pod Toilet. All of it streams live to the web for subscription viewers. Another marketing masterstroke. Check the holy trinity:
WIRED Magazine: "It's the End of the World as We Know It (And The Pod People Feel Fine)"
Business 2.0: "Pods and Profits"
The Industry Standard: "Ringmaster for a New Millennium"
Thus far the numbers are a bit lower than projected, it's true. But they'll grow.
Rejoice, fearless Pod People! You are the vanguard of a better world.
#
December 12th, Millennium Eve minus nineteen. Traded voicemails with Nora.
Beep. "Nora, it's me. Wanted to know if you felt like some good old-fashioned interfacing. I'll be out of pocket the last part of the month, so if you wanted search for a synergy, maybe we could do it stat?"
Beep. "Roger, you're frightening me. Please don't call unless you promise to speak English."
#
ME minus fifteen. No monkeys. I got hold of the vendor's CEO and reminded him the world is full of monkey providers. He asked me to hold, and five minutes later returned apologizing, saying that wires had been crossed, signals missed, and somehow the monkeys bound for lower Manhattan ended up in lower Manchuria. Their crates had been sitting alongside a rail station at Kinchow for nearly a week. However, he thought he could probably get those crates to us by month's end if he really hustled.
I said we'd like new monkeys, fresh monkeys, monkeys with a pulse.
Sometimes I'm amazed the old world worked even well enough to feed and clothe all the generations of people required to give birth to this one.
#
ME minus thirteen. Lunch with Jerry. He's not pleased about the monkey situation, but he's got bigger things on his plate. He's lined up the U.S. Women's Volleyball team to play a winner-takes-all match of Trivial Pursuit against the Canadian Curling Team. Carried live over to subscribers, of course.
This is a great idea, but I have to admit some concern at the continuing weak viewership of the Pod People Channel. We're significantly below projections.
Of course, brilliance can take a while to infect the average viewer. The numbers will spike soon.
#
<voicemail> "Nora, it's me. It would mean a lot if you came to Cobalt. Notice how I'm speaking? Call me."
</voicemail>
<voicemail> "Roger," <sigh> "…" </sigh> "I don't think it's a great place for us to talk, but if it means that much, I'll go."
<tone> "Seriously though, you need to think about this job. Your message was dated 3:17 in the morning! Normal people aren't working at 3:17 in the morning, Roger. Especially not a couple of days before Christmas.
</tone>
Anyway, let me know when and where. Or let my voicemail know. Whatever."
</voicemail>
#
December 25th, ME minus six. Jerry is a terrific boss. This morning he announced today would be a half day. I stayed. There's still so much to do. We'll soon have positioned ourselves as the player in the webcasting marketspace, and that's going to mean a big boost to the old portfolio.
That's what Nora never got. These days going to work is like playing the Lotto, except instead of six balls with sixty numbers, there are like two balls with four numbers. Or probably more than that, if it were that easy then everyone would win, and not everybody does. But the point is, the odds are good, very good, that if you have vision and are willing to sacrifice the things that distract you, then however many balls it is, they will drop into the slots with your numbers facing up.