This one would be a cinch. These defense contractor types always were. Half the time all you needed was an abstract blob with some stenciled lettering and it was as good as printing your own money. This one was a little different though, and he knew it. For one, most of the businesses he had worked with over the years didn't have their competitors' heads on pikes by the front lobby. Then again, most of his dealings were with companies who were in business to manufacture weapons and gear for the military.
This company, CorreiaTech, had militaries put together for the sole purpose of using their wares.
If he could land this gig, he'd be set for life. Sure, running the insanely successful School of Interdimensional Design was a gratifying experience in and of itself, but he had been doing that for nearly 3 years and it was time to think about retiring. If he could win this contract, that could easily become a reality.
He looked at the tiny chip in his hand. It contained several hundred hours of work and was in every known format in all three hundred and twenty four dimensions he covered. In his pocket was a universal adapter that could reconfigure itself to fit in any input jack within seconds and he hoped that this place wasn't using some dimensional variation of a Macintosh. In most universes, Linus Torvalds was one of the richest men and his proprietary operating system, Linux, was used on 90% of all computers. In a few others, some guy named Bill Gates held that title. Depending on the universe, one OS was rock solid and open source, the other not as stable but usable by the masses. Regardless of the universe, the Mac sucked. He hoped he'd not have to use one today. Just in case, he had hard copies in his portfolio.
A few deep breaths were taken. He was well rested as the Motel 6 he stayed in was one of the nicest 5 stars he had ever seen. The room was impeccable and the breakfast in bed really helped him start the day off right. Just then, the receptionist leaned over her desk (which appeared to be made out of fused skulls of various species, but he couldn't tell for sure). "Mr Allen," she said, "you can go on in. They're waiting for you."
He stood, adjusted his tie, and not for the first time appreciated that this dimension didn't seem to have a problem with his complete lack of pants. He nodded a thank you to the receptionist and headed through the giant, slab doors. Once inside though, his confidence faded fast.
At the head of the table was a giant of a man. His thick mane of hair flowed neatly to his collar. Had he been balding, he would have looked eerily similar to a an actor in a sit-com about the Mafia from his home dimension, but the look on his face showed there was no levity to be found here.
"Mr. Correia," he said, extending a hand, "Robb Allen, it's a pleasure to finally meet you." The CEO just grunted. Robb slowly withdrew his hand and cleared his throat. "Well, I'm sure we're all busy here so let's just go ahead and look at what we've got in store for you." Trembling slightly, Robb located the data jack and sighed a slight bit of relief that they were using Windows Vista 7 XP.
"HIPPIE!" Mr. Correia shouted, causing Robb to nearly drop the universal adapter.
"I I I'm sorry, sir?" Robb stammered. "I assure you, both the student body and the entirety of the staff of my design school are 100% conservative. Art & Design is not a very liberal-leaning career choice in pretty much every dimension save one or two."
"I'm not talking to you, " snarled the CEO. "My cigar went out. HIPPIE!" he screamed again. Within seconds, a scraggily bearded man in 100% organic hemp clothing came running from behind a wall. "Yes, Mr. Correia?" he said meekly. The scent of patchouli could be detected from across the room.
"Light," Correia said, pointing at the stub of a cigar hanging from his lips.
"Yes sir," said the hippie, procuring a small lighter from his pocket. After a few unsuccessful tries, the hippie managed to produce a flame. He gingerly held out the lighter with shaking hands and managed a weak grin. The CEO just glowered at him. The hippie's face fell. With a deep sigh and a total look of defeat, the young man proceeded to put the lighter to his long, stringy hair.
The CEO of CorreiaTech leaned forward and lit his cigar from the flaming hippie. Once the cigar had a deep, red ember at its end, he punched the hippie so hard that the flames were extinguished. "Continue, " he bellowed.
Robb started his presentation immediately. "First off, I'd like to showcase what we've put together for the CorreiaTech Home Security line of products. We've color coordinated the entire set to differentiate between the High Explosive Welcome Mats, External Vaporization Systems, Zero Point Shielding, as well as ensuring the feel of the logos is consistent with the need…"
"Wombat," Correia stated flatly, interrupting Robb mid sentence.
"Sir?" Mr. Allen asked as a holographic logo of a shovel bashing in a salesman's head spun behind him.
The CEO took a long drag off his cigar. "Show me the Wombat logo."
"Absolutely sir, that's part of our paramilitary line which we will be getting to shortly after…"
"NOW," demanded Larry.
Not wanting to upset his client, Robb quickly skipped through hundreds of logos until the screen behind him filled with the terrorizing look of the Combat Wombat – CorreiaTech's most popular (and lucrative) invention of war.
"As you can see, the logo is deliberately understated to protect children as well as…" Robb began, but was silenced by a large, meaty hand held up in the air.
Larry Correia's face remained stoic as he studied the image before him. A quick snap of his fingers and the singed hippie appeared by his side. Correia put his cigar out on the hippie's forehead and sent him away. The room reached an unnatural silence as sweat poured down the back of Robb's neck. He was well versed in dealing with difficult clients. His training at reading their body language was extensive, however the deep, black pits of the CEO's eyes showed no indication of humanity, much less acceptance or rejection. The silence stretched on for an eternity until Correia turned away from the logo and stared directly into Robb Allen's soul.
"We'll take it."