The Starfucker was holding court in front of some European software companies that didn't know any better. He had managed to convince them to appear with him because it was almost certain that Nintendo was about to purchase them. The Nintendo rumor was guaranteed to make any small European software house sit up and take notice. Since Nintendo had bought Rare Entertainment (creators of the fabulously successful Donkey Kong Country), small shops on the continent spent nights dreaming that the Big N would swoop in and buy them for a ridiculous amount of money. The Starfucker had inferred that he had contacts at Nintendo, and when one of the supplicants would ask in a quivering voice if the deal was going to happen, he would invariably answer with his trademark phrase: "Put a fork in it; it's done."
Peter, Todd and Paul descended on him just as he was launching into another spiel of his past accomplishments. He broke into a huge smile as they approached. This was going to look very good to the assembled throng. "Well, well, if it isn't the Lazarus Brigade. Come join the posse gentlemen."
Several of the developers from England immediately recognized Peter and Todd, the living embodiments of the Nintendo Dream, and as such instantly became objects of worship and desire. They all moved over en masse to make room at the table for the two of them. Paul was forced to cram into the booth side next to a German developer who looked liked he bit the heads off pigeons.
"So," said one of the English developers, turning to Peter. "Did he help you with your sale?"
Peter grinned to Todd. "Well, he did promise that we would get to meet Spielberg after the deal was done." Peter gazed across the floor of the restaurant. "In fact, didn't you say that he was going to be here tonight?"
The Starfucker didn't miss a beat. "Still stuck on the tarmac at Burbank." He leaned in conspiratorially to one of the programmers. "Problem with the engines I hear."
"That's a pity," said Todd. "How about Diller?"
"Nope. Incoming from New York." Again without missing a beat.
"Well, I have to tell you," said Todd. "You promised us some celebrities, and frankly that's the only reason we came over." He winked at The Starfucker. "You better produce some star wattage here or you may have to break down and buy a round of drinks." He winked again. "I'd hate to see it come to that."
The Starfucker was now starting to feel the pressure from the unrelenting attack. He decided a quick change of direction was required. "Peter, have you met Carl Jurgen?" He motioned to the terrorist sitting next to Paul. "Jurgen started SofTekNik in Munich. They are doing an unbelievable 3D rendering engine. Runs at 30 frames a second on a Pentium 100. Several game companies are looking at licensing the technology."
Carl the Terrorist mumbled something incoherent and stuck his hand out. Every single one of his fingers had a massive silver ring on it. His hand hung unanswered over the table for a moment before it was retracted back to its home around a Beck's bottle. Paul attempted to make conversation with him. "So, is it poly-based or sprites?"
"Vy vould it be schprites?" came back the response. Paul smiled weekly and looked over to Peter and Todd for support. The Starfucker laughed.
"Intense, isn't he? He spent the last year of his life cranking this code out. He's rendering 3D without z-buffers. Really brilliant stuff."
Peter and Todd were already beginning to tire of the table. The lack of celebrity firepower, although expected, was beginning to weigh on them. "So Carl," said Todd. "I hope you haven't signed with our good man here without seeing his client list. Hate to see a conflict of interest appear months later down the road."
The Starfucker almost imploded in his Perrier. He recovered a second later to weakly blast out a smile. "Todd, you are such the evil one, aren't you. Carl knows that our firm supports each client independently and to the best of our abilities. It's why we invest in more successful start-ups than anyone else in The Valley." He turned to Carl. "Seventy percent of the companies we invest in exit successfully in under three years."
Todd rolled his eyes. "Just what exactly does that mean on this planet?"
"It means that everyone we invest in successfully goes public or gets bought out. We are the money machine." The European programmers all nodded their heads in agreement.
Todd leaned forward on the table. "So, how many of those companies are profitable?"
The Starfucker grinned brightly at them. "This market rewards speed, not revenues. Besides, the minute you generate a profit, your valuation goes to hell. The smartest thing America Online did was to convince Wall Street to treat them as a cable company. It forces the market to judge them on subscriber revenue instead. Profits are the black hole of venture investing."
The assembled throng all burst into smiles and raised their beers to the Starfucker and drank him a toast. They had just been told that being forced to make money was wrong, but cashing out was right. It was truly a wonderful world presented by the Starfucker.
The Starfucker decided to turn his attentions once again on Peter and Todd. He had barely registered the fact that Paul was with them. "So guys, what is your next venture?"
Peter shook his head. "We are firmly ensconced in the kingdom of Lazarus. You of all people should know that."
The Starfucker smiled knowingly at the Europeans. "Now, we all know that there is no such thing as lifetime employment any more. If the right deal walked under your noses, you would take a look at it. Besides, you guys are start-up men. Once you're in a start-up, you never go back."
"Well, we're back for now."
The Starfucker pounced immediately. "For now, eh? I know an exit song when I hear one guys. Just remember when the time arrives who got you your last deal."
Peter looked at Paul, and then Todd. Todd and Peter locked eyes for the longest minute in the history of their relationship. They both knew exactly what was going through the other’s head: They had arrived at the line. The line was the invisible start to the start-up process. This line was a particularly nasty piece of imaginary geography since it only worked in one direction. Once they crossed over the line, wheels would creak into motion, people would leap in their direction, and any chance of making up with one Lazarus X. Tompkins would be history.
So Todd and Peter stared at each other, with the exact same thought bouncing back and forth between them: Do we cross the line? The Starfucker would sense immediately when they had crossed the line, and by the end of that evening everyone else in his firm would know also.
Paul Cromer was picking up on all of this. He saw the look that had paralyzed Peter and Todd, and he saw how the Starfucker's drink had frozen half way to his mouth. He didn't know what the line was. In fact he had never heard of it, but he knew just by looking at everyone at the table that something was about to go down. He also made one of those snap judgments that sometimes break upon someone with intense clarity. He knew that whatever was going on, he wanted to be part of it. There was a massive jolt of energy that had suddenly burst upon the table, and his nerves were twitching with its arrival. So Paul also stared at Todd, waiting for a reaction.
Time ground to a halt at the table, and then it came. It was a tiny, almost imperceptible motion. It was completely missed by the now plastered Europeans, but they really should have paid attention. It signaled everything that they strove for. And yet they missed it. So minute you had to be looking straight at him to pick it up.
Todd nodded.
Peter looked at the Starfucker. "Well, maybe we should talk later during the show."
In the cab back from Spago the three of them reviewed the events right after The Nod. The Starfucker had practically dropped his jaw on the floor, and as they walked out the door, he was already firing up his phone to start alerting people back on the home front. Paul had also made his intentions known to Peter and Todd, which pleased them to no end. Not only were they about to embark on their next adventure, they had already acquired their first defector. This was not going to make the announcement to Lazarus any more appealing, but there was a certain safety in numbers. And Paul was one of the best programmers they could ever hope to get. The only problem was they still did not know what exactly he was supposed to start programming.
So they slid through the neon night line of Las Vegas and puzzled over the problem once more. What exactly were they going to make? What was the company? What was the market? Todd's answer was a simple one: Crawl The Hall. Wander up and down the aisles and find a product or market that they thought was cool, but knew they could code better. Let the market come to them, as it were.
Peter was hoping for something a little more structured. One thing he had learned at their previous company was that is was almost irrelevant what the first business plan was, since it was bound to change before an actual product was hatched. For the venture capital community, the business plan was simply a test that you could write a business plan, that you were able to speak the same language and mimic the same actions as they.
Paul simply sat there and wondered what he had gotten himself into. He had always worked at large, comfortable companies. This start-up thing was new to him, and although he was enjoying the adrenaline rush he was currently experiencing, he was starting to wonder about the wisdom of his defection. He was not by definition a risk-taker, and he was leaving a very nice position with Lazarus to go tearing off over the horizon on some Quixotic quest for the next great piece of software. On the other hand, the lure of a new adventure, and the proximity to that much money in the form of the Starfucker was rather stimulating.
Peter turned to Paul. "Well, you're part of this mad caper now. What do you think we should be doing? Todd and I have to be totally honest with you in that there isn't the smallest smidge of a business plan in our heads right now. If you were given a blank piece of paper, what would you want to create?"
Paul pondered this for a moment. "Well, I've always been very interested in object-oriented coding. Especially when it comes to distributed or shared objects."
Not surprisingly, Paul had gone straight to the edge of the known world. Objects were the holy grail of programmers, reusable pieces of code that could be slotted into different programs without having to code from scratch every time. On top of that was distributed states. This was a desire for multiple people and/or programs to be able to share those object over a network. What Paul was talking about was rocket science to the nth degree, software that was so far from actual production as to terrify almost every software executive in the valley.
Todd scrunched up his nose. "Boy, you want to bite off a big piece, don't you?"
Paul shrugged. "Well, you did ask."
"Okay," said Peter. "Say we do go this route. What market or product could you make with this software?"
"Almost anything," said Paul.
Todd laughed. "I can see the business plan right now. Company ABC manufactures almost anything. Please stand by for revenue."
Peter thought about this for a moment. "Actually, all we have to do is cruise the floor until we find a product or market that could benefit from distributed objects. If you can prove that benefit then you're already on your way to funding."
"Sure," said Todd. "But what is that actual product that we would make?"
Peter grinned. "That isn't relevant. It's just relevant that we could do it better."
Paul shook his head slowly. "This is truly a world I don't understand. I am among the heathens now, aren't I? How the hell are we going to get funded on a mere premise?"
Peter looked out at the spastic outline of the Vegas night.
"Hype."