The Interpolated Founder
At the midpoint of the vector, Marcus Chen stood at the window of his office on Page Mill Road and watched the traffic clot on 280. It was August 1999, and the air conditioning hummed at precisely sixty-eight degrees. The Aeron chair behind him still held the impression of his body from the six-hour board meeting that had just ended, and somewhere in the building, engineers were drinking Jolt...
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