Chapter 2: Limbo

"Answer the phone, dummy" Steve said to himself.

Jenny's phone rang 4 times, and then Steve knew he'd entered the land of voice mail. Nuts.

"Hello, you've reached the voicemail box of Jenny Robinson at Highly Profitable Inkjet, Inc. If you will leave your name and number after the beep, I'll get back to you as soon as possible. If, in the future, you wish to skip this greeting, press the # button on your phone. Thanks."

Even digitally rendered, she had a sweetly engaging voice.

Beep.

Uh, right, time to think of something brilliant to say.

"Ahem." (Clearing your throat is always a good start.)

"Jenny, I was wondering if you'd be available for dinner tomorrow night? Rats," he said, as he hit the # key to stop recording the message. "Sounds like I'm checking her schedule for rental options or something" he said to himself.

Pushing the 3 key on his phone, he canceled the message and started recording again. "Hi, Jenny, this is Steve. Remember me?" He hit the # key again.

"This is ridiculous." He pushed 3 to record his message yet again. "Hi Jenny, this is Steve. Do you remember when the old Product Engineering team went to Nick's in McMinnville to celebrate the success of the KPQI project? It was a pretty cool place from all accounts, and I'd like to take you to dinner there tomorrow night. What do you think? Please give me a call when you get a chance, 5-5218. See you."

Pushing #, he then pushed the 2 button to listen to his recording. Voice sounded OK, pace was even. "What do you think" was kind of an awkward phrase, but he'd live with it. He pushed the # key again to send the message, then hung up.

Why was life so stressful? Trying to put it out of his mind, he turned back to the UNIX CAD station and began working on his nozzle design. Soon enough the world had shrunk to a region about 50 micrometers in diameter.

One of the things few people outside the field realize is that mechanical engineering can be almost narcotic in its ability to remove the practitioner from the real world, to deaden any sense of connection by total focus on the problem at hand. Modern computer visualization tools enhance the effect, drawing the full attention of the designer into the device he's forming from the nothingness of cyberspace. It is such a clean, orderly world. If the engineer is competent and has a sufficient mastery of the design tools, the process of creating something new under the sun flows smoothly, fluidly, towards the final realization of the answer to the problem at hand. Such total control, such an ability to order things towards the purpose at hand can be quite absorbing. Steve was rather quickly caught up, without realizing it of course. Few engineers are poets.

Jenny, on the other hand, was in a meeting. The post-modern office meeting is often a charade, a play where various actors have roles. This is especially true when it is a weekly event, as this meeting was. Some people get so good at playing their part they can "go to Bermuda" (or for the boomers, "tune-out") while still acting their roles. Jenny, a consummate actress, had an unfortunate habit of actually falling asleep during her trips to the islands, which meant that she was forced to pay an unusually strict amount of attention to the presentations being given, one after another, about her product's engineering performance. The sleeping had just gotten too embarrassing. Her presentation had been first on the agenda, and had been delivered with her usual polish. The company took quality seriously, which meant that the actors needed to portray an unusual amount of attention to her work, which they usually did. Why she needed to sit through a presentation on the inventory level of plastic side covers was beyond her, however, but the appropriate response was polite interest, so she was indeed politely interested. Being a mathematician and therefore something of a poet, the whole thing struck her as incongruous, and she wasn't the least bit absorbed. More than once her mind drifted to Steve.

Finally, the section manager in charge of the meeting announced that it was over, the lights came up, and people began filing out. She walked back to her desk. This being a very successful, rapid growth operation her desk was two buildings away, so it took her 15 minutes to get there. Her eyes automatically glanced at the phone, looking for the red telltale indicator which announced that she had voice mail. As always, it was there. Something about making a million devices a month made that inevitable for the entire production engineering staff. Well, she'd get to it after she read her email.

Thus, one thing leading to another, it wasn't until after lunch that Jenny finally heard Steve's message. Picking up the phone to listen to her messages, she discovered she had six to listen to. "More than usual" she sighed to herself as she began listening them. The first message was marked urgent. The data terminal in final test was down, so they couldn't enter the raw data necessary for her quality control charts. Great. Next message. A meeting to choose a new format for the charts and graphs used in those quality reports was scheduled for Tuesday afternoon, and would she come? "Sounds critical" she thought to herself, with more than a little irony. Write it down, better show up. Next message. A former manager, now working in R&D, thanked her for giving him access to the data in raw form so that he could pull out the bits he needed for a presentation. Always nice to be appreciated. Next message.

"Hi Jenny, this is Steve. Do you remember when the old Product Engineering team went to Nick's in McMinnville to celebrate the success of the KPQI project? It was a pretty cool place from all accounts, and I'd like to take you to dinner there tomorrow night. What do you think? Please give me a call when you get a chance, 5-5218. See you."

Well, this was more like it. What to do? Why Tuesday? Well, she wasn't really planning anything for tomorrow anyway, and it was the second time he'd asked her out. The pain of the last time they'd seen each other washed over her for a moment, but her conviction about the importance of at least attempting to get a committed relationship established with him held fast.

"Are you still there? Please choose your option, now" a rather insistent cyber-female boomer voice told her. Voicemail systems can be really boorish at times. Hanging up the phone (a very impolite way to terminate a session), Jenny picked it up again and dialed Steve's number.

Up in the lab, a phone rang. Steve was trying to decide whether the part looked better in green or blue, and had just decided to go with green. Now, what shade? The design was a thing of beauty, and he knew this was going to be hot stuff. It had to look right before he revealed it to the public (that is, his peers and managers). The phone's second ring penetrated his reverie long enough to make him realize that it was his phone that was ringing. Irritated, he tore his eyes away from the cyberspace rendition of his next world shaking inkjet device and refocused on the phone LCD. How long had he been working? 4 hours by the little clock in the upper left corner of the LCD. It couldn't be that long! Well, maybe it could. His posterior was kind of stiff. He looked to see who was calling as the phone rang the third, and last, time. Jenny? What did she want? Something urgent went off in the back of his mind as his recalcitrant arm snatched the phone from the cradle before it went to autoanswer mode. Those ultimate games paid off.

"Hello?" He said, tentatively.

"Hi Steve" Jenny answered. She sounded happy anyway.... oh, yeah, right. Steve sat up straight as his mind finally moved completely off of his work and on to his plans with Jenny.

"Am I interrupting something?" Jenny was a little taken aback by the slowness of his response.

"Oh, no, no, not at all. I'm just a little stiff from concentrating to long on this new firing chamber design. Listen, are you interested in going to Nick's tomorrow? I think it would be fun, and I'd like to spend some time talking with you about things."

"Actually, I'd like that as well. When do you have reservations?"

"7:30" he lied. He'd meant to make those reservations, but had gotten to caught up in his work. "But, it will take an hour or so to get there, so how about if I pick you up at 6:30?"

"Good, we'll be driving as the sun sets down the valley. I'll be looking forward to it."

"Uh, Jenny?"

"Yes Steve?"

"I, that is, we have a lot to talk about. I'm really glad you're willing to go out with me again."

Jenny flushed, but was determined to keep this under control. "Should I be unwilling to see you? Maybe we do have something to discuss" she said with the most serious voice she could muster. This just might turn out to be fun on top of everything else.

A little uncertain about the direction the conversation was taking, Steve decided to quit while he was ahead. "Yes, well, I'll see you Tuesday evening, OK?"

"OK, mister Mitsunami. Don't be late! Bye." Hanging up the phone, Jenny breathed out a sigh of relief. But she smiled too. This could really work out, not only achieving her purpose but being quite a bit a fun as well.

Before doing anything else, Steve dialed up the restaurant and reserved a table for two.

Bill had the same problem, but solved it in a different way. After dialing Cindy's work area three times and getting only her voice mail, he decided to do something dramatic. Signing out early for the afternoon, he went by a florist shop and picked out a very large bouquet of red roses and a nice card. Bringing them back to the factory, he found Cindy's car in its usual parking spot and put the roses in the passenger seat. Taking pen in hand, he wrote a message on the card;

These roses are red,

My life's going nowheres,

Give me beauty instead,

and we'll forever have no cares.

Can I have a date Friday night, 6 o'clock?

Bill

Well, it is tough to be both a philosopher and a poet. And an engineer. Tucking the note into the flowers, he then parked his car a short distance away where he could watch unobtrusively, and waited.

At about 4:40, right on schedule, she came walking out alone from the plant. She looked a little put out. Approaching her car, she peered in the window, froze, let out a little scream, and dashed back to the building. Puzzled, Bill suppressed an urge to follow her in his car, sensing that it would be the wrong thing to do.

His patience was rewarded when Cindy reappeared with four security officers in tow, two of whom carried black jacks. Upon approaching her car, their tension grew as they began to see the outline of something shaggy in the front seat. Upon closer inspection, they realized it was two dozen roses and began laughing out loud. Cindy looked pretty sheepish, and, ducking into the car, plucked out the note and began reading it. The last vestiges of concern washed away as she finished the note, and the pleased look on her face spoke volumes to Bill. She waved the guards off, soundlessly apologizing across the distance. His gamble had paid off, it was time to confirm his winnings. Elated, he climbed out and walked up behind a small blonde woman reading a note over and over.

"Well? Do we have a date?" he asked.

Startled, she spun around. Seeing him, a little pain crossed over her features before the joy overtook it all and she said, with more enthusiasm than she'd meant to let show, "Yes! This is wonderful, Bill. You know I'm a sucker for roses, and these are spectacular." She gave him a hug.

"I'm sorry, Cindy, really I am. I don't want to go into all that here and now, because I have a special evening planned for Friday, and I don't want to spoil it. But you will go out with me again, won't you?'

"Yes, of course. I was surprised to get your voicemail today. Ha! These roses were certainly a surprise as well. Do you know I thought they were someone in my car? The way you had them sitting in my seat gave me quite a start. Next time, lay them down!"

"Yes dear" he replied, grinning.

There was a brief silence.

"Uh, well, what are you doing tonight?" she said.

He smiled mysteriously and said "Preparing. It'll be great. 6pm sharp, and I'll come by to pick you up, OK?"

"OK. Guess I'd better get home." She let go of him and stepped back. "Good night Bill, and thanks. I'm looking forward to Friday night already." With that she got into her car and drove off.

Now all he had to do was think of something spectacular for Friday night....