Undo | Page 8

nearly a
decade ago had blossomed into the cluster of buildings stretching a
quarter-mile in either direction from where he stood, and even farther,
to a number of locations throughout the world. And now he was on his
way to the epicenter of this campus-like complex that was Wallaby
Computer. Matthew arrived from his journey west with the feeling that
he had entered a fairy tale, so full of wonder was this place. But now,
as he resumed his step along the gently curving sidewalk that ran up
either side of the block, he felt as though the set were changing. Full of
dread, he approached the end, and the beginning, of the rainbow, where
he would confront the man "Time" magazine called the "Computer
Wizard."
Peter's secretary cut short her phone conversation the moment she saw
Matthew.
"Peggy, is Peter in?"
Before she could respond, Peter's own voice answered from behind him.
"No!"
Matthew turned just in time to see Peter's office door slam shut. He
knocked gently.
"Nobody's home," said Peter Jones in a calm voice from behind the
closed door. "Please leave a message at the tone. Beep."
Matthew Locke was not amused. Like a father exercising his right to
open any door in his own home, he entered the office.
He was met with the sound of continuous clicking from Peter's

keyboard. The office was small and sparsely furnished, with simple
overstuffed furniture and gray carpeting. Peter was sitting before his
computer at a black lacquered desk against the wall, his back turned to
Matthew. He closed the door behind him and waited for Peter to turn
around.
"Nobody's home," Peter repeated over the sound of his staccato typing.
Matthew eased himself into the chair beside the couch, remembering
the first time he had sat in this very office, more than two years ago,
when Jones had hired him to run the company. My God, Matthew
thought, how he has changed - how everything has changed.
All at once, the room was silent. Peter Jones turned around in his chair.
One thing had not changed: Peter's eyes. Deep and black and seemingly
bottomless, certain and sharply focused, like the eyes of a young boy
determined to win a swimming race. Matthew felt his toes grip at
nothingness inside his dock shoes, felt his feet slide silently backward a
fraction of an inch across the natty carpet, as if he were taking a step
back from the edge of the board for fear of diving once again into that
dark pool. And with this thought came another...of water, and splashing,
thrashing, losing grip... Loss. Determined, Matthew quickly sobered
himself of the troubling memories that had momentarily distorted his
focus.
He stood. "Peter, unless you and I can come to some understanding
about how we're going to run the business, I'm going to suggest some
drastic changes at tomorrow's board meeting." To avoid Peter's eyes he
glanced at the computer screen.
Peter smoothly turned the screen's dimmer knob and stared at Matthew.
"There'll be some changes, all right," Peter said.
The gravity of the younger man's tone went unnoticed by Matthew. His
attention had been captured by what he'd seen on the screen before it
darkened. It appeared that Peter was working on some sort of graphic.
A drawing with little boxes. Probably a sketch of a new computer

design, Matthew concluded. The pang of pity he felt changed to
frustration when he recognized the root of the problem: Why can't he
understand that this is exactly what he should be doing, designing new
computers, and let me run the company?
"It's too late for any more discussion," Peter said, flicking away the
shock of dark brown hair hanging over his brow. "I know all about your
plan to suggest a reorganization, Matthew. What, you're surprised? I
know everything that goes on here." He made a disgusted noise. Then,
as if to signal the end of the discussion, he took a pen in hand and
directed his attention to a legal pad. With intense concentration, he
began drawing a line spiraling round and round from the middle of the
page outward.
"It's not too late. That's what I'm trying too tell you," Matthew said. "I
don't think you realize the severity of things around here. How bad it's
gotten."
Peter began humming a tune to himself.
"The board is very disturbed about the schedule slips, and furthermore,
the weak sales - "
Peter's meditation ended. The pen flew within inches of Matthew's face.
He leaped to his feet. "Don't you dare come into my office and tell me
how to run my company." The younger man was all tensile, his body
resonating with indignation. "Now leave me alone! Just get out of
here!"
Matthew held his place. "Peter, please."
"Out!"