Part 32 (2/2)
”So I started thinking,” Peter went on, his speech coming quickly, ”that with your experience in big system stuff, and with what I know about little system stuff, what if we put our heads together?”
Byron made a gesture with his pipe for Peter to go on.
”Okay. See, I've been thinking about portable computers, and PIAs - you know, personal information managers. And as much as I think they are helpful, like the Joey, they're not really as helpful as the could be. They don't so much help you, not directly anyway, as serve you, so to speak. I mean, they're really just smaller, more tightly-integrated computers than real helpers.”
”Mm hmm.”
”So, what if there was a way to make a portable computer really help you? To really a.s.sist you, by antic.i.p.ating your next move.
By knowing you better and better the more you work with it?”
Byron took the small metal wind cap off the bowl of his pipe and checked the tobacco. He leaned over the side of the rail and tapped it carefully against his weathered palm, spilling the black ashes into the ocean. Then he leaned against the cabin, took a long swallow of his beer, and pushed his sungla.s.ses higher on his nose.
”What you're talking about is agents. Agent technology. Little 'intelligent' software buddies that run on your computer in the background and pay attention to what you're doing, and what you're not doing, and then act on their own, on your behalf, to help you by antic.i.p.ating your next move. Sound about right?”
”That's exactly right. We were just starting to play around with the concept before I left. But my lead programmer was really into them, and he had a bunch of friends at MIT who were studying them in a big way.”
”Right. And what I was thinking about fits in nice with what's got you all juiced. See, all this poppys.h.i.+t everyone's going on about, the world wide web and the Internet, it's got me a little ticked off. It's supposed to be the world's greatest 'new'
information source, yet getting connected is a b.i.t.c.h. And what with those snappy little computers you make, well, a person should be able to hook up to the net and web by just plugging in the phone. It's too d.a.m.n complicated the way it is now. It needs to be simpler.”
Peter jumped in excitedly. ”You know, that's incredible, I was thinking that that would be my next step at Wallaby, to make net stuff easier for people. And now that you mention it, think about the two. I mean, combining both the net stuff and the agent stuff. I've seen demonstrations of net-savvy agents that go off and find information and articles you are looking for, seeking out news that you know you are interested in, and news that you didn't know you were interested in, but based on your previous interests, the agent finds related items for you. That's what I call a real information a.s.sistant.”
”Yep, that's a d.a.m.n good idea,” Byron agreed . ”And that net stuff, you know, is what this old geezer knows best. h.e.l.l, I was cruising the net while you were doo-dooing in your diapers. That was when the government was the biggest Internet user and text and numbers ruled the world. Now I log-in and whew, it's like walking into a virtual playhouse, all the stuff that's on there these days. Just the other day I took Gracie for a 'tour' of Prague, thanks to that city's new web page, created by this group of expatriates who just up and moved there. It was all there: snapshots, video clips, restaurant and hotel guides, travel information, the whole works.”
”Wow. Sounds like you've really kept up on all this stuff.”
”You better believe it. What, you think a guy like me retires and then just unplugs? No siree. And as for those snazzy little agents you're all worked up over, I've got a recent report on them back at my office in New York. In particular, the ones with net smarts.”
Peter smiled and gave an amused shake of his head. ”You know, it looks like you were right. I mean, that you and I have more in common than I thought.”
Byron shrugged and looked off into the distance for a few moments, then looked Peter in the eye.
”Guess it's time I fess up,” Byron said. ”See, I'd been watching you sit in that cafe for a couple of months. I knew who you were.
I saw the way you looked. I saw the way you didn't look, too, at anything around you. It was in your face, that you wanted to be left alone. I knew I couldn't introduce myself to you, not for a while, anyway. So I waited. Until the other day, when that new Joey Plus was introduced. h.e.l.l, I figured it was as good a time as any to throw a line to a fellow sea dog. All along I've been hoping since I saw you the first time that we'd get it on in the brain, like we are now. You know?”
A beaming grin peeled across Peter's face. ”Yes. I know. And so what I was really wondering is, do you think maybe we could work on some of this stuff together?”
Byron scratched his head. ”Sounds like I've got a new hobby,” he said. He raised his can of beer. ”Partners?”
Peter felt a little sting in his eyes. It was the briny ocean mist, he told himself, blinking behind his sungla.s.ses to rid his eyes of the moisture that had abruptly formed there as he touched his beer can to Byron's.
”Partners.”
Chapter 11
Her tears had caused her mascara to run all over the pillow in black streaks. Applied two nights ago, the night of their anniversary, her makeup was all gone now from her puffy red eyes.
She turned the pillow over, revealing more smears, then reached across the bed for one of Matthew's pillows, which she punched it into shape and stuffed under her head.
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