really hated it if they’re willing to let it go.”
“They
don’t think it will come back to hurt them,” he said. His fingers drummed the
desk. “The really angry-making part of this is that they’re probably right.”
I
stared at him, suspicion beetling in my mind. “There’s something else going on,
isn’t there?” I leaned back in the chair and tilted my head back toward the
ceiling. “OK, I’m not seeing it.”
Sound,
rather than sight told me that Eric had gotten up. “What the hell are you
doing?”
“Looking
for the other shoe,” I replied. “Any second now, it’s going to drop.”
He
laughed despite himself, and came around to the front of the desk. “I hate to
say it, but you’re right. There’s a one-two punch here, and there’s no way to
duck.”
“Part
one is killing our project. Part two is….”
“They’ve
offered us something else.”
My
head snapped down so fast I could actually hear my neck crack and feel my
molars bounce off one another. “Something else?” My eyes narrowed. “Like what?”
He
held up that damnable piece of paper. “That’s the bitch of it.” Someone knocked
on his door, and without turning he called out “In a meeting. Come back in five
minutes.”
I
raised an eyebrow. “Five minutes? You’re an optimist.”
He
fixed me with a decidedly humorless stare. “I don’t think either of us will
want to continue this conversation past that point. Look, here’s the deal.” He
started pacing, ticking the points off on his fingers as he did so. “They want
us to do an old-gen port of their new FPS project. Maybe PC, too, if we look
like we can handle it. They’re offering acceptable money and a longer contract
if we just roll everything off of Blue Lightning and onto this new thing, which
they’ve code-named Salvador.”
“That’s
nice and humble,” I said, but he waved me to silence.
“If
we say yes, everyone keeps their job. We might even need to do some hiring. We
get steady work for at least another ten months and at least one SKU on a
project that they’re going to be devoting a lot of time and money to, not to
mention a major marketing push. We’re talking TV, print ads, serious viral
stuff online—something they weren’t going to give Blue Lightning.”
“Because
they didn’t own the IP,” I said softly. Eric’s voice had the strangled sound of
a man trying to convince himself it would be better for everyone if he murdered
his wife. Including, I might add, the wife in question. “And in exchange….”
He
sighed. “You know what the exchange is.” He stopped and turned to face me. “We
kill Blue Lightning, at least for the duration of this project, and with the
way the tech is going, that effectively means forever. That’s why you’re in here
and we’re having this talk.”
“Is
it?” I couldn’t meet his eyes. There was a very interesting patch of carpet
near his left foot, however, and I studied it intently. “You’re the boss, Eric.
If you say we’re doing Salvador on an Etch-a-Sketch, I’ll go make it happen.
You know that.”
“Yeah.
But that’s not the point. You know exactly what’s going to happen when I
announce this.”
“If,”
I corrected him. We both sat there in silence for a second. “OK, when. You’re
right. Your job is to make sure everyone else has a job, and that means you
have to take the deal.”
He
nodded. “But it’s going to be ugly. We’re going to have people at least think
about quitting. We’re going to have a lot of yelling and screaming and anger,
and we’re going to have a lot of resentment toward whatever project comes next.
And depending on what you do, it could be bad, or it could be bloody awful.”
I
blinked. “Me?”
“You.
You’re the creative director on the project, the leader of the team. A lot of
people around here, for whatever reason, regard Blue Lightning as your baby. If
you put up a fuss, they’re going to rally behind that and make the next year
“They
don’t think it will come back to hurt them,” he said. His fingers drummed the
desk. “The really angry-making part of this is that they’re probably right.”
I
stared at him, suspicion beetling in my mind. “There’s something else going on,
isn’t there?” I leaned back in the chair and tilted my head back toward the
ceiling. “OK, I’m not seeing it.”
Sound,
rather than sight told me that Eric had gotten up. “What the hell are you
doing?”
“Looking
for the other shoe,” I replied. “Any second now, it’s going to drop.”
He
laughed despite himself, and came around to the front of the desk. “I hate to
say it, but you’re right. There’s a one-two punch here, and there’s no way to
duck.”
“Part
one is killing our project. Part two is….”
“They’ve
offered us something else.”
My
head snapped down so fast I could actually hear my neck crack and feel my
molars bounce off one another. “Something else?” My eyes narrowed. “Like what?”
He
held up that damnable piece of paper. “That’s the bitch of it.” Someone knocked
on his door, and without turning he called out “In a meeting. Come back in five
minutes.”
I
raised an eyebrow. “Five minutes? You’re an optimist.”
He
fixed me with a decidedly humorless stare. “I don’t think either of us will
want to continue this conversation past that point. Look, here’s the deal.” He
started pacing, ticking the points off on his fingers as he did so. “They want
us to do an old-gen port of their new FPS project. Maybe PC, too, if we look
like we can handle it. They’re offering acceptable money and a longer contract
if we just roll everything off of Blue Lightning and onto this new thing, which
they’ve code-named Salvador.”
“That’s
nice and humble,” I said, but he waved me to silence.
“If
we say yes, everyone keeps their job. We might even need to do some hiring. We
get steady work for at least another ten months and at least one SKU on a
project that they’re going to be devoting a lot of time and money to, not to
mention a major marketing push. We’re talking TV, print ads, serious viral
stuff online—something they weren’t going to give Blue Lightning.”
“Because
they didn’t own the IP,” I said softly. Eric’s voice had the strangled sound of
a man trying to convince himself it would be better for everyone if he murdered
his wife. Including, I might add, the wife in question. “And in exchange….”
He
sighed. “You know what the exchange is.” He stopped and turned to face me. “We
kill Blue Lightning, at least for the duration of this project, and with the
way the tech is going, that effectively means forever. That’s why you’re in here
and we’re having this talk.”
“Is
it?” I couldn’t meet his eyes. There was a very interesting patch of carpet
near his left foot, however, and I studied it intently. “You’re the boss, Eric.
If you say we’re doing Salvador on an Etch-a-Sketch, I’ll go make it happen.
You know that.”
“Yeah.
But that’s not the point. You know exactly what’s going to happen when I
announce this.”
“If,”
I corrected him. We both sat there in silence for a second. “OK, when. You’re
right. Your job is to make sure everyone else has a job, and that means you
have to take the deal.”
He
nodded. “But it’s going to be ugly. We’re going to have people at least think
about quitting. We’re going to have a lot of yelling and screaming and anger,
and we’re going to have a lot of resentment toward whatever project comes next.
And depending on what you do, it could be bad, or it could be bloody awful.”
I
blinked. “Me?”
“You.
You’re the creative director on the project, the leader of the team. A lot of
people around here, for whatever reason, regard Blue Lightning as your baby. If
you put up a fuss, they’re going to rally behind that and make the next year
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