The next afternoon, Vince Maston and Gavin Lindman walked into the Harborview Convention Center, which was humming with excitement. The Tech Horizons Expo was the largest event in the city for the year; a convergence of funding, innovation, and interest for investors, innovators, and interested strangers alike. Above them, huge banners advertised the latest and greatest advances in consumer electronics, AI systems, and automation.
Once they entered, Gavin clapped Vince on the shoulder. "Big day. Dongle's unveiling their new research model today, and since Maston Holdings is a shareholder, we're VIPs. Be nice, shake hands, and look enthused."
Vince barely suppressed a smile. "I can do that."
The expo floor was expansive and full of booths showing off the latest and greatest prototype or concept. They made their way toward Dongle's section, which was well attended by executives in starched suits and convention vernacular.
Gavin quickly began his small talk about quarterly performance and started shaking hands with folks who looked important at the Dongle booth and Vince - well, Vince just became distracted.
But then, in the far corner of the hall, he noticed something much less shiny and bright: a tiny booth accommodating itself between glitz and glamour corporate booths, almost completely ignored by the traffic.
Curiosity tugged at him and Vince broke from the flow of the crowd.
The booth was small, the banner was very vague, "Holler Innovations - A New Kind of Phone". Behind the table was a tall, skinny pale young man in his mid-twenties with messy brown hair and thick glasses, absently playing with from what appeared to be a cricket bat, or some clunky looking concept. He seemed nervous; he trembled a little whenever a passerby took a second glance.
When Vince stepped closer, the young man startled and stood straight.
"Uh - hi," he nervously stammered, in a very soft voice. "Um... welcome! It's, uh, just a concept right now."
Vince raised an eyebrow. "A concept"?
The man nodded. "Yeah. I - uh - sorry, I'll introduction. I'm Carl. Carl Holler." He looked down at his table, no longer sure of himself, and then when... quickly back up. "It's, um... a phone. Not a phone like we have now. This one - this one has no buttons."
Vince blinked, his interest piqued immediately. "No buttons?"
Carl shuffled, holding the prototype tightly like it was a shield. "Yeah. I know it sounds weird. But I've been working on this for a while. The entire screen is touch-screen. You tap it, swipe it, pinch it—it does what you want it to do. No keys. Just… Just the screen."
Vince jolted. He's describing a smartphone.
He forced himself not to freak out or show any sign of surprise, he leaned against the table with a bored expression. "Go on."
Carl hesitated, as if anticipating Vince to burst out laughing at him, and he looked to Vince when he spoke but saw that Vince was just interested not some guy mocking him, and something eased itself in him and when he spoke again he sounded much steadier.
"Okay, so right now phones are clunky. They have your keypad and tiny screens, and horrible user interface experience. I thought—what if the entire interface of the phone is the screen? You could browse contacts, type messages, even—eventually watch videos, all from the same screen; There is no key to wear out. No bulk. Simple clean design."
He lifted his blunt prototype. It illuminated loosely. "We're still in the early stages. I used some display parts from the tablet I started. It's rough. But the potential? Big. You're walking around with something that's just a screen. Everything else—apps, music, communication—fit into a panel of glass."
Vince looked the device over; his heart started racing as it clicked. In my world, this changes everything up. And here, there is no one that will even see this coming.
He looked up to Carl, now with a layer of enthusiasm and anxiety in his tone.
"And now, everyone I've pitched it to says it feels impractical," he lamented with a push to his glasses. "They say people like buttons, that touchscreens are strange and flimsy. The handshake ends when they nod politely and walk away. But I know it can work. It has to."
He stopped. Carl exhaled, nearly embarrassed at this flowingness. "Sorry. I... uh.... I go on sometimes."
"Don't apologize, Carl." Vince gave a small smile. "You've got vision."
Carl blinked. "You... you think so?"
"I don't think so," Vince replied matter-of-factly. "I know so."
Carl tilted his head, cautious optimism glazing over his eyes. "Really?"
Vince nodded slowly, that spark of future knowledge shining brightly in his mind. "What you're building here? It's revolutionary. People don't see it, yet, but they will. I've seen this exact thing change entire industries."
Carl stared at him dumbfounded." ...You really believe me?"
"I don't just believe you," Vince said. He reached out his hand. "I want in. Let's start a company. I'll fund it, take a controlling interest, and you build this thing. You build the tech. I'll handle everything else."
Carl froze, blinking rapidly as he tried to process what he was hearing. "Wait—what? You're serious? I mean, I'm just—I'm not some big engineer or anything. It's just me and two buddies working out of my aunt's garage—"
"I don't give a shit if you're working out of a garage," Vince said firmly. "I don't care if it's just you and soldering iron. This is the future, Carl, and I want to be first."
Carl's mouth opened, closed, then opened again. "…No one's ever said that to me. Not once."
"Then I'll be the first," Vince replied smoothly, handing him a card. "Come to Maston Holdings tomorrow. Bring a lawyer. I'll have contracts ready. We'll make it official."
Carl took the card with trembling hands, staring at it like it was unreal. His face split into a grin that was equal parts disbelief and joy. "Yes! Yes, absolutely! Thank you, Mr. Maston!"
Vince chuckled, shaking his hand firmly. "Good. Tomorrow, then. And Carl?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't let anyone tell you this won't work," Vince said with quiet conviction. "They don't know what's coming."
Carl's grin widened. "I… I won't."
As Vince walked back toward Gavin and the Dongle executives, he felt a thrill he hadn't felt in weeks except for the previous show. Wrestling was his battleground now, but in that brief exchange with Carl Holler, he had glimpsed the spark of another empire in the making.
Afterward, Vince rejoined Gavin, who was finishing up talks with Dongle's executives. They discussed their upcoming innovations—cloud storage integration, improved search algorithms—confirming for Vince that Dongle's path mirrored exactly what he remembered from his old world's dominant search engine.
As they left the expo, Gavin glanced sideways at him. "I heard you telling someone to come to our office tomorrow. Who?"
"A kid named Carl Holler," Vince replied casually. "He's working on touchscreen phones. I'm backing him."
Gavin's eyes widened. "You just met him today and you're already investing?"
Vince shrugged. "Most of my best investments started on a whim." He gestured toward Gavin's car parked out front. "That car you love so much? Paid for by those whims."
Gavin paused, mouth opening—then shutting again. "…Fair point."
_____
The next morning, the conference room at Maston Holdings was quiet except for the soft hum of the air conditioning and the rustle of papers being disorganized. Vince was at the head of the table, calm as always, while Gavin leaned against the wall, coffee cup in hand, grinning half-heartedly.
At precisely 9 AM, the glass doors opened just wide enough.. in walked Carl Holler, practically bouncing, with a messenger bag clutched against his chest. Behind him, his aunt, Lydia Holler, right behind him full of purpose, dressed for work, with penetrating eyes and a purposeful stride.
Carl waved awkwardly. "H-Hi! Morning!"
Vince stood and extended his hand. "Morning, Carl. Good to see you made it."
Carl smiled broadly. "I hardly slept a wink last night. I kept thinking, 'No way this is real. God I hope this is real.' And now, here we are!!"
Lydia coughed lightly. "I just want to be here to make sure my nephew doesn't sign his soul away," she joked drily and shook Vince's hand.
Vince smirked faintly. "Rest assured, Mrs. Holler, we are in the business of building dreams - not stealing them."
"Ms. Holler," she politely corrected as they were all settled. "And forgive me if I don't take that at face value until I've read every word."
Carl winced a little, rubbing the back of his neck. "Aunt Lydia's, uh… protective."
"Good," Vince smoothly responded, sliding a neat stack of contracts across the table. "She should be. That's exactly why I told you to bring a lawyer."
Lydia began reviewing the documents, looking over the pages methodically. Carl, however, leaned over, eager, his eyes darting over the documents without really reading it.
"So, this is it?" Carl said, his voice catching a bit. "Like… official-official?"
"This," Vince replied, "is where PearTech Technologies is born."
Carl beamed with the name, which sounded like music to him. "PearTech," he said again, almost giddy. "I love it."
As Lydia read, her brow furrowed slightly. "Sixty-five percent majority ownership to Maston Holdings?" She looked up at Vince. "That's… steep. Carl, you'd basically be surrendering control."
Carl looked over at her, and then at Vince. "I don't care. I just want to do this. Vince believes in me, no one's ever believe in me before."
"Carl," Lydia said softly and firmly, "believing in you is great, but you can't just--"
"I can," he interrupted. His voice was still soft, but he was determined. "Aunt Lydia, this is my chance. No one is going to rush to back me. Vince is. I don't care if it's sixty-five percent or eighty-five percent - I just want someone who sees what I see."
Lydia exhaled out her nose, clearly not convinced, but not wanting to crush his enthusiasm. She turned to Vince. "You feel comfortable having this much equity in something run by a garage hobbyist?"
Vince met her stare and didn't flinch. "Do you think I back things that I don't believe in? Carl's idea is world-changing. He's got the vision. I'll give him the infrastructure."
Carl beamed at that, looking at his aunt as if he were pleading. "See? He gets it."
Lydia sighed and rubbed her temple. "You can be infuriatingly naïve sometimes, you know that?"
Carl chuckled shyly. "Yeah, but that's why you are here, right?"
After a moment, Lydia finally nodded her head. "Okay. But we've to do this right." She turned to Vince. "I'll need copies of these for files. And Carl—at least make it seem like you are reading before you sign it."
Carl laughed nervously, "Right, right. Absolutely." He skimmed the pages for literally thirty seconds before taking the pen. "Ready. Let's make history."
He scrawled his name quickly then slid the papers back across to the table.
"Congratulations," Vince said, firmly shaking Carl's hand, "as from today, PearTech Technologies is under the Mareton Holdings banner."
Carl jumped in his chair, "This is ridiculous! Like one day I'm tinkering away in my aunt's garage, and the next—boom! This!"
Gavin laughed from the corner. "Welcome to the shows, kid."
Lydia sat back with her arms crossed, in a state of acceptance, "Well Carl, you did it. You've tied yourself to this man's anchor. I hope he knows where he's going."
"Oh, I do," Vincent smooth. "First order of business: Carl, give us a list of equipment you need. Work stations, prototypes tools, whatever. We'll get it ordered. Office space as well – unless you want to keep your aunt's garage."
Carl shook his head immediately. "No, no, the garage is perfect! I mean, it's cramped and smells like paint thinner, but it's home."