doubleZero | Page 6

policies and he went bankrupt, well, I'm sure it
would mean more to him."
"Speaking of bankrupt," Fix asked, "have you talked to Carol yet about
compensation for the little miracle we performed for them?"
"Not since we accepted the contract. I guess it's time to have that
conversation. Let's go find Lloyd."

Carol Martin closed the door behind her. She was in her early forties,
with a look that was surgically precise, from the lapels of her blazer to
the curled, red tips of her hairdo. She admired Julie's dedication to
process and order. Lloyd was always charming with her, almost
dangerously so, and his skills in coding COBOL, FORTRAN, and C++
spoke for themselves. Fix was something she tolerated, only because
Julie insisted he was essential to the project. As Risk Director for the
bank, she didn't quite understand what he did; it defied reduction to
words on paper, so she resented his presence. And that was not fun to
be around. Her office was not particularly fun, either, filled with art
composed of geometries in dark tones and a giant black desk inhabited
by dangerous-looking imported silver objects--a letter-opener, a stapler,
a tape dispenser, each looking like it was borrowed from the set of a
Cronenberg film. Fix was sure she'd never seen a Cronenberg film. A
few nights before, he laughed out loud at a movie, drawing angry stares
in the darkness: the woman with the torch in the Columbia Pictures
credits looked exactly like Carol.
"I'll dispense with the pleasantries," she began. Pleasantries? Fix
wondered, looking about with his eyebrows raised, but no one caught
the sight-gag, being too concerned about the portent of the meeting.
"I'm disappointed."
The team's mouths opened, but none of them breathed.
"You have carried out the description of the project, but only just. Your
methodologies were haphazard and unreproduceable. This is
unacceptable, and as a result the amount of your compensation will be
duly adjusted."
"Ms. Martin," Julie protested, "we were working under an extreme time
constraint, and managed to scrutinize and correct over 750,000 lines of
code, many of which were inaccurately altered by our predecessors.
We--Fix--also created a new method for harmonizing time codes
between our systems and outside computers. This team has performed
remarkably, and I don't think you're being fair."
"I'm not asking for your assessment here. And what others did before

you is irrelevant. That doesn't compensate for the lack of any
documentation about your project."
"That's what this is about? Documentation? I'm sorry, but we were too
busy saving your institution to record everything we did!"
"Did you save us? I have no proof."
"We'll get it to you. And when we do, will you reconsider the matter of
our fees?"
"Certainly. In the meantime, I see no need for the bank to be billed for
the presence of the full complement of your team. You may stay, Ms.
Baruzzo, to complete the documentation. And I have other duties for
you, Mr. Hayes. But I am afraid, Mr. Lauzon, that you are no longer
needed, if ever you were."
Fix seethed, "What rhymes with 'bitch', Carol? Ohh, gave it away."
"Get out of here!" Carol yelled, her composure breaking for a flash,
then instantly settling back into place.
"I was just about to leave anyway," he replied, getting up from his gray
swivel chair, "and you're welcome for rescuing the bank." As he left,
Julie plopped her head onto her hand, knowing she now had to
back-peddle twice as fast to undo this damage. Lloyd was
dumbfounded. He'd never seen Fix get angry before. He mentally
chided Fix for his tactics, though: playing Carol right had already
gotten him another job.
"Don't worry," Julie said from her cell phone in the bank parking lot
later that afternoon, "I'll get you what you're owed. I'm not going to let
you go broke. Your work on this project was invaluable, and I'm not
just saying that 'cause you're my best friend. The documentation will
show that."
"How long do you think that'll take you?"

"God, at least a month. I don't know where to start. We were putting
out so many fires. How's this: if you help me, we'll split what I make 'til
it's done. That is, if you still want to be involved."
"Yeah, I wanna be involved," Fix admitted, "It was the biggest
challenge of my life. Besides, I did it for you, not for them."
Fix leaned his bike against the corner of the bank wall, and ripped open
the Velcro on his nylon wallet. He pulled out his bank card and pushed
it into the little gray plastic slot in the bank machine. He'd managed to
spend his small savings in the weeks since he'd been fired. Julie's
documentation was still unfinished, so