Reboot Pt. 01

"Please don't," Sumita said, confused. "Did I do something wrong? I'm really sorry, whatever it was."

"No, it's not you," Jenna replied, her voice a low growl.

Great, Sumita thought to herself. It's not you; it's me. That's what they always say.

Jenna sat there for a long moment, poised to stand, and then collapsed back into her chair. "I got laid off today. Like an hour ago," she said. "A dozen fucking years, and I get tossed out on my ass with the garbage. So I'm obviously not in a fit mood for anybody tonight. I really should have cancelled."

"Oh god, Jenna," Sumita said, "I'm so sorry."

She reached across the table to take Jenna's hand. Jenna flinched initially at Sumita's touch, but she didn't pull away. "Anyway," Sumita said, her voice full of sunshine and rainbows, "you're here now and the food is probably going to show up any minute. No point in letting it go to waste."

Jenna chuckled at Sumita's over-the-top cheerfulness. "No," she replied. "I suppose not."

"See, there," Sumita said. "A good meal can't fix your life, but it can make it suck a little less for a little while."

"Okay, then," Jenna said, and she managed an actual smile.

The food did indeed show up a minute or so later, and Jenna perked up when the waiter set her plate down in front of her, a wild mushroom pizza covered with fresh arugula. Jenna sliced off a small piece for Sumita. "You have to try this," she said. "It's amazing."

Sumita took a bite and closed her eyes. Jenna was right. The pizza used pureed cauliflower in place of tomato sauce, and it combined with the sharp, oily cheese, the fleshy wild mushrooms, and the crisp, peppery arugula into something unique.

"Yummy," she said. "Would you like some of my stew?"

"Sure," Jenna replied. "I've been wanting to try it, but I can't come here and not get this pizza."

Sumita handed Jenna her spoon, and Jenna scooped a spoonful of chickpeas and spinach out of the bowl in front of Sumita. Sumita watched Jenna's face while she savored the bite, and she was happy with the result.

"Wow," Jenna said. "That's really good."

Jenna handed Sumita's spoon back to her, and Sumita took her first bite of her own meal. There were layers upon layers of complexity in spices and flavors and textures, from the crunch of the walnuts to the intensity of the lemon zest, but the core of the dish was incredibly simple. Chickpeas swimming in tomato and yogurt. Channa masala. Childhood in Gujarat.

"I guess you like it too," Jenna said, smiling at Sumita.

"It's great," Sumita said. "Thank you so much for suggesting this place."

By the time their dishes were empty, Jenna was mostly her old self, or at least the self Sumita knew from meeting her twice before. The heaviness was still there, upending Jenna's life, but it had faded into the background, something to deal with in the morning. The two of them shared some sort of ridiculous chocolate thing for dessert while the sun set, and Sumita paid the bill. Jenna started to fuss about it, remembered her situation, and changed her mind.

They stood in the parking lot together a while afterward, not wanting the evening to end. Sumita wanted to suggest something else, but she had no idea what. Jenna seemed to be thinking the same thing, and she came up with an idea.

"I know a great place to walk," she said. "It's nice even in the dark, especially with the moon out. Your car should be fine here a while longer."

"Okay," Sumita said, and she followed Jenna to her car. Jenna unlocked and opened the passenger door for her, and then walked around to the driver's side.

Jenna drove south across the Ballard bridge and then turned left a couple of miles later onto a weird little overpass that doubled back over both the road and the railroad tracks. She parked in a long, narrow, empty parking lot next to a pier full of fishing boats.

"It's totally safe, I promise," she said to Sumita, who looked rather skeptical about the location.

"I trust you," Sumita replied, and then smiled at Jenna. "Anyway, it's your car."

Jenna laughed and nudged her shoulder into Sumita.

~~~

The two of them stepped onto the walking path together. The first hundred yards or so ran down the edge of a little inlet, across from the pier where the fishing boats docked, and then it turned left and opened up into a park that ran along on the shore of Elliott Bay. When they walked around the corner, Sumita saw downtown all lit up under the summer sky, with the Space Needle in the foreground.

"Wow," she said. "The parking lot didn't look too promising, but this is beautiful."

"I love walking here," Jenna replied. "Something about the wind and the waves always calms me down."

"I can see why," Sumita said.

They walked together along the path a while in silence, past the public fishing pier, close but not touching. The air grew dusty and smelled of hay as they walked past the giant grain terminal, busy transferring some of its four-million-bushel capacity into the steel behemoth berthed under the loading conveyor. Sumita tried to make small talk once or twice, but her voice felt like an intrusion in the evening air.

Jenna stopped to show Sumita her favorite landmark, a gray, weathered totem pole, with a live owl perched atop the carved eagle at the crest. The owl took off without a sound, and Jenna watched it fly away with unguarded awe, as if she'd forgotten for a moment that Sumita was even there.

"I've never seen an owl down here before," she said. Sumita smiled at Jenna and took her hand, and they continued on. The path went on for well over a mile, eventually running into the Olympic Sculpture Park, where they turned around to walk back to the car. They passed a few other people out for a late walk or run, sometimes alone, more often with a partner or a dog.

Sumita let herself take it all in, the moon and stars, the cool offshore breeze, the dimly visible outline of the Olympic Mountains across the sound, the waves lapping at the rocks, and the tiny crescents of sand that passed for beaches. Jenna was right - it was a lovely, peaceful place to walk. Mostly, though, she watched the woman walking next to her. Dinner had pushed Jenna's problems aside for a time, and the walk held them at bay, but they were pushing back.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Sumita asked. "Your job, I mean."

"Not really," Jenna replied, "but I probably should. It's not like teeth."

"What?" Sumita asked, half curious and half amused.

"'Ignore your teeth and they'll go away,' my mom always said," Jenna replied. "I guess it worked, because I'm really good about brushing and flossing. It doesn't work for other things, though. Like getting laid off from your job."

"No, it doesn't," Sumita said. "Sorry."

"It's okay," Jenna replied. "Not your fault."

They walked a while in silence, Jenna trying to figure out what to say and Sumita waiting for her. Jenna opened up when they stopped to walk through the rose garden, in full summer bloom.

"I work for this company that does office supplies and services," she said. "Small businesses, mostly, with fairly simple needs. We keep them stocked up on paper, pens, that kind of stuff. Keep their fax machines and printers up and running. Do a little light clerical stuff, like filing and sorting mail. It's not very exciting, but it's honest work, and we do a solid job at it for a decent price. Everybody's happy."

"Okay," Sumita said.

"So today," Jenna continued, "my boss flies up from LA. No advance notice. Walks in around seven, and won't tell me why he's there. Won't even look me in the eye."

Sumita got a sick feeling in her stomach, knowing at least the broad outlines of what was coming. "So what happened?" she asked.

"We go into my office, and he tells me the office supply group's been acquired by some big internet company," Jenna said. "I vaguely recognize the name, but I don't know anything about them. Turns out they do everything online, and they aren't very interested in maintaining local offices like mine."

"I'm sorry," Sumita said.

"Stupid fucks don't understand that our customers don't want to do everything online," Jenna said. "They want us to manage their shit for them, and they're happy to pay us to do it. But the new bosses don't care. They just want our customer lists and our supplier contracts."

"Wow," Sumita said. "That sucks. So you're just out?"

"That's the worst part," Jenna replied. "They offered me a decent severance package, but only if I spend the next two weeks going out to customers and explaining to them why they should stay customers. Feed them a line of bullshit I don't believe."

"That's terrible," Sumita said.

"At least I got something," Jenna said. "The four people who work for me are all part time, and they got nothing at all. I know Irina lives paycheck to paycheck, and the other three aren't much better off. If they don't find work soon, they'll be totally screwed. I'm doing what I can to help them find new jobs, but there's only so much I can do. That's what really hurts."

Sumita stopped walking and put out her arm to stop Jenna as well. "I'm sorry," she said, and then wrapped her arms around Jenna's waist and pulled her into a hug. "I'm really sorry."

Jenna hugged back, her long arms squeezing tightly around Sumita's shoulders and her face buried in Sumita's hair. They held each other that way for a while, much longer than a normal friendly hug. Finally, Jenna whispered, "Thank you," and let Sumita go.

Sumita took Jenna's hand, and they walked back to the car together. Jenna's raw, overflowing emotions filled up the space between them, crowding out words. Another hug back at the car, briefer and softer, and they drove back to the parking lot at the restaurant.

When they arrived, Jenna parked and turned off her engine. They both got out and stood next Sumita's car, not quite knowing how to leave things before going home.

"Listen, Sumi," Jenna said. "I really like you, and I want to see you again ..."

Sumita beamed at Jenna.

"... but I just can't for a while," Jenna continued. "The next two weeks are going to be horrible, and I need some time after that to sort myself out. I'm going to be a terrible person to be around, and I don't want to fuck things up between us."

Sumita's smile faded but didn't disappear entirely. "I totally understand," she said. "Take as much time as you need, and call me when you're ready."

"Thank you," Jenna said. She took Sumita's hands in hers and they stood facing each other, blue-gray eyes staring into dark brown. There was a moment where they could have kissed each other, mouth to mouth, but it passed. Instead, Jenna leaned in to kiss Sumita on the forehead, and Sumita let out a little sigh.

~~~

Friday at work was hard. All the minor annoyances of working as a programmer conspired to drive Sumita batty. Normally, she could shrug these things off as the cost of doing a job she loved, but that day nothing worked at all. Queries to the bug database that were normally instantaneous took forty seconds or timed out; her remote debugger connection dropped at random for no good reason; the symbols for the build she was using were corrupt; the build she upgraded to in order to get symbols wouldn't even install.

She accomplished nothing at all that day, and for the first time in a month, she wondered why she was crazy enough to go back to work. She couldn't even vent to Sarah, who was in meetings on the other side of campus all day. To top it all off, her weekly meeting with Dave turned into a contest to see who could be more passive-aggressively hostile without actually saying anything that could be reported to HR. Sumita went home with a massive headache. She took a long, hot bath, drank a large glass of wine with her dinner of random leftovers from the freezer, and went to bed early.

The weekend was better. Sangita had more free time than usual, so they went shopping and had dinner together in Bellevue. Sangita found four different outfits she liked, including a teal blouse with a matching miniskirt, and asked Sumita to help her choose one. Sumita bought all four, including the miniskirt, without comment. Sumita even let Sangita pick out something for her, a short pumpkin-colored cotton sundress with a scoop neck, the kind of thing she'd never buy for herself.

"Sometimes you just need to indulge," Sumita told her daughter. Sangita didn't argue with her good fortune.

Sangita caught her mother up on both her job and her social life over dinner. The former was still going well; the latter was fairly quiet. Alan was completely out of the picture, to Sumita's great relief, and there were no other prospects worth mentioning. Her friends were all starting to feel the pull of college in the fall. Sangita was going to UW in Seattle, where she'd be out of the house but still close by, and Dina and some other friends would be there as well. Others were scattering, to WSU in Pullman, to Arizona and Wisconsin, even to the east coast.

Sangita didn't ask whether Sumita had finally done something about Jenna, and given the way things had gone Thursday night, Sumita didn't feeling like bringing up the subject. 'It's Complicated' might work for Facebook status, but it doesn't satisfy an annoyingly persistent teenage daughter.

~~~

Another week at work and Sumita was finished with all the coding tasks planned for her data table feature. Everything worked, at least most of the time, but Sumita didn't feel good about it. It wasn't just the bugs - there are always bugs, and bugs can be fixed. The whole thing felt rough and unfinished, like framing a house where some of the joints are loose and none are at perfect ninety degree angle. A house like that might stand up for years and years after it's finished, but it might also collapse into a heap of rubble five months down the road.

Sumita went into Sarah's office on Friday afternoon to bounce a few ideas off her and wound up staying for half an hour. By the time they finished talking the problems through, Sumita felt much better about her ability to finish her feature and as a programmer in general.

"Thank you," she said. "This was really helpful."

"No problem," Sarah said. "It's always easier when you can talk it out. I didn't even do anything really; just listened to you figure stuff out for yourself."

"Still," Sumita replied, "thanks."

"That reminds me," Sarah said as Sumita was leaving. "Jenna wanted me to tell you how nice dinner with you was last week. How you made a really bad day bearable. She'd tell you herself, but . . ."

"Yeah, I get it," Sumita said. "I hope she's okay."

"She will be, eventually," Sarah replied, smiling, and turned back to her computer.

~~~

Monday morning, Sumita got a little worried when she didn't see Sarah in the status meeting at eleven. Sarah wasn't exactly an early bird, but it wasn't like her to be that late. Part way through the meeting, Sumita's phone buzzed in her pocket, and when she pulled it out, it was Sarah. Sumita quietly excused herself from the meeting to take the call in the hallway. There was only one reason for Sarah to call from her cell phone in the middle of the work day.

"Congratulations!" Sumita said, after Sarah gave Sumita the essential details. Sumita was one node in a large communications network, and Sarah had half a dozen more calls she needed to make before she could finally get some sleep for herself.

Sumita dashed back to her office, pulled up the draft email Sarah had composed with her, plugged in the relevant details, and hit send.

To: Meaghan Williams; Sarah Oda; ADF_Team_All

Cc:

Subject: Jennifer Nanami Williams Oda

Meaghan and Sarah are proud to announce that Project Sprout was released to world (RTW) today at 8:52am, two and a half weeks ahead of schedule. Telemetry indicates a weight of 7lb, 3oz and length of 50cm, within expected values. Early customer satisfaction scores are very high, despite a painful delivery experience and a fussy, unpredictable user interface.

"She's absolutely wonderful!" - Sarah

Both mothers and baby are healthy, happy, and very tired.

- Meaghan and Sarah

When the message had gone out and come back into her inbox, Sumita immediately hit Reply All and added her own congratulations. Dozens more congratulations appeared on the email thread over the next few hours. Sumita doubted Sarah or Meaghan would even see them for days, but it was still nice to know that people cared. A couple of pictures followed the next morning, and little Jennifer, with her grumpy face and shock of black hair, looked very much like Sarah's baby picture.

~~~

The next two weeks felt very long. Dave was pestering Sumita to wrap up her data table work, check it in, and move on to something else. Sumita wasn't ready to do that. She couldn't in good conscience ship a feature that wasn't ready; she'd recommend that Bhavesh cut it unless she felt the quality was solid. Looking back, she realized that was probably Dave's intention all along.

Bhavesh, though, gave Sumita the extra time she needed. He agreed to two more weeks of coding, with a go/no-go decision after that. Dave was pissed, but there was nothing he could do about it.

So Sumita worked late into the evenings pulling out functions and classes and whole subsystems, examining them in detail, fixing what was mostly working and completely re-coding what wasn't. It was hard work, but Sumita went home with a feeling of accomplishment every night.

The weekend brought a much-needed break. The team had pitched in to buy some ready-made meals for Meaghan and Sarah, and Sumita volunteered to take them over on Saturday afternoon.

"You guys are all so sweet," Sarah said when Sumita arrived. "You really didn't have to do this."

"Hush," Sumita replied. "Those of us with children remember how hard the first few weeks are, and most of the rest will be in your shoes someday. We're all happy to help."

Meaghan wandered into the living room holding baby Jennifer. "If we're lucky, we'll get a whole five minutes of her not crying," Meaghan said, and then smiled down at her baby. "Isn't that right, you little crying machine?"

"You want to hold her?" Sarah asked.

"Sure," Sumita replied, and Meaghan placed Jennifer into Sumita's arms. Sumita instinctively started rocking her and making soothing baby sounds.

"She likes you," Sarah said. Sumita smiled and kept rocking. She had forgotten how wonderful this was.

"First Carl, then Jenna, and now you," Meaghan said, her voice warm and happy. "I should have more babies."

Sarah gave Meaghan a sharp look. "Don't you dare," she said. A second later, when she realized Meaghan was teasing her, she burst into a goofy smile and stood up on her tiptoes to give Meaghan a kiss.

Sumita blushed at the intimate moment and looked down at the baby in her arms. "So Jenna came by?" she asked. "How is she?"

"She's good," Meaghan replied. "She and Rose are expanding the catering business, turning it into a full-time thing. She's nervous but really excited about it."

Sumita stayed another few minutes, until Jennifer decided she was hungry. Meaghan took her back with that mix of relief and resignation that Sumita recognized from every mother she had ever known.

~~~

Monday was back to work, and Sumita could see the end in sight. The tasks got smaller, mostly just cleanup work. On Thursday, something in the code finally clicked. There were still bugs, but they were just bugs, not major design flaws. All the joints were tight, all the angles a perfect ninety degrees.

One problem still remained, though: performance. Every single formatting operation took at least a quarter second on Sumita's dev box, which meant over half a second on more typical hardware. That was way too slow, like typing over an old modem connection. For the experience to work at all, it needed to be fluid. Twenty milliseconds, not six hundred.