Chapter Text
Richard and Bighead got hired at Hooli together. They were working in different departments (and honestly, Richard never got a handle on what Bighead’s job was because he himself didn’t seem to understand it), but they were together, living their dream.
Richard knew that his code was good, and that college couldn’t teach him any more than he knew. He needed to go to one of the big tech giants and make his name there. It was going to be a dream, especially compared to the shitty student jobs he had to work to stay afloat. He could wear his own clothes to work instead of itchy, stiff polo shirts or aprons (how demeaning are aprons, honestly?) that drove him insane. He wouldn’t have to panic his way through complicated social rituals just to get people coffee. It would be home.
Bighead followed, because that was what Bighead did. He heard the promise of big money and working side-by-side with Richard, and that sounded good to him, so he went. Unlike Richard, Bighead had no real goals or vision. This never seemed to bother him. People assumed that Bighead was stupid. Richard, of all people, knew that he…well, he wasn’t stupid. He was fun, and he understood Richard, and he was so completely without stress that, when you thought about it, he was the one who really had it figured out. Richard assumed that Bighead got the job through charm. This happened sometimes. People thought Bighead, with his short frame and vacant expression, was just adorable, and it seemed pretty unlikely that Hooli would hire someone based on that, but it was just as unlikely that they hired him due to his coding skills, so take your pick.
Richard, on the other hand, got hired on skill alone. He vomited before the interview, of course, but anyone could see that he belonged there, even if he was an anxious wreck. They weren’t looking for someone to smile and say the right line. They needed good coders, and that’s what he was. This was definitely where he belonged, more than anywhere else.
Actually living in the cradle of one’s dreams was more complicated. Bighead’s overly accommodating parents helped by sending money every month, but Richard felt guilty about mooching off of them too. Bighead, naturally, didn’t mind. Even with the help, they wound up living in a two-bedroom apartment with three other guys, and they did not get bedroom access. Bighead was small enough to get the couch and Richard had to make do with an air mattress. He was pretty sure that sleeping so close to the ground was bad for his airways and he had a cold constantly. Richard felt like a baby, sniffling all the time.
Nobody in the apartment socialized. They brought their laptops in to get breakfast in order to avoid talking. This wasn’t terrible, Richard reasoned, since roommate situations did get awkward, so treating it like a business arrangement was probably better than trying to be friends.
It did get lonely though.
Richard tried to distract himself through work. Everything about the environment at Hooli was designed to make a person feel like they weren’t at work. It was like a parent desperate to be their kid’s friend. It had its perks, but it wasn’t fooling anybody. Richard was still doing low-level grunt work to live in an overcrowded apartment. He liked the work itself, but it was easy and boring and safe. There was no creativity involved.
And then he went home to nothing. Bighead was helpful, but he was starting to get overwhelmed too, maybe even worse.
“I just don’t know what I’m doing here, man,” Bighead told him one night. Richard had nothing to tell him.
They spent a lot of nights sitting in silence, both knowing that the other was weighing the pros and cons of going back home. What do you do when your dream turns out to be bullshit?
“No, you know what?” Richard said one night. “This is…listen, this isn’t forever. This is the worst, I mean, I know. I’m sleeping on the floor. My hip hurts so bad I think I need a cane. When’s the last time you were able to take a shower lasting more than four minutes? But…this is what everybody has to deal with before they make it. This is temporary. I’m telling you.”
“Yeah,” Bighead said. “You know, uh…there was this guy wandering around earlier today and I started talking to him. He’s supposed to be like, super famous? Have you ever heard of some company called Aviato?”
“No.” Richard said.
“Yeah, me either. But like, he owns this house and he’s looking for like, programmers that are developing apps. And he’ll let you live there in exchange for like, 10 percent of whatever money the apps make? And I don’t know, it’s an idea. I mean, it would be further away from work, but maybe we could figure something out?”
“I don’t really have any ideas.” Richard said.
“I do. I mean, it’s very like, I don’t have all the details yet but it’s an idea. And you can think of something. It’s just…it’s a thought. Do you want to call him?”
He handed Richard a business card that read: Erlich Bachmann. Visionary.