"
"He's not selling out, boy. He's upping Wallaby's market.
Probably triple it in a few years because of that two-step he
pulled today."
Peter folded his arms. "All the more reason for me to sell my
share in Wallaby and invest it in what we're working on. You
know, I'm in the mood for a little shopping spree. I think my
mind is made up about those couple of acquisitions we've been
talking about. The net browser. The compression routines. And
definitely that knock-out handwriting recognition kernel. Yes
indeed, it's time to do a little spending."
The two men had turned the extra bedroom in Byron's Maine home
into a lab and workroom. Scattered all around were diagrams of
circuit boards, tools, and assorted computer and electronic
parts. A flowchart of the software that Byron was engineering,
based on the design the two men had come up with in the last four
months, was spread out on the table before them.
"Well, that's settled then," Byron said. "Good. Now what do you
say you wipe that little snarl off your face and we get back to
work. Come on." He patted the stool beside him and Peter, still
plainly agitated by the news, returned to his seat beside his
partner.
"This is what I changed last night," Byron said, pointing at a
series of boxes indicating the user interface portion of the
code. "It's what's going to make this baby different from every
other portable doohickey out there.
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