The Parable of Myst II

There are demons out there. Some appear as movie deals, others as formal staff meetings. Still others materialize as name tags at the company picnic. Such are the torments and temptations of overnight success-and the expectations of still greater things to come.

When brothers Rand and Robyn Miller and their small band of software programmers and artists hit it big with "Myst" how could they have guessed what they would surrender for all that they would gain? Now the men and women of Cyan, Inc. lead double lives. They're making big profits, but yearn to be a family again. They're thrilled by the chance to become the next Disney, but demur from million-dollar movie deals. They're famous, but still live in the woods.

They've learned how it feels to be suddenly, supremely successful, and try to live in accord with the words of a T-shirt one of them wears to work: Our God is an awesome God. He reigns from heaven above.

Where in the World Have We Landed?

No one is here. But the door's open.

You pass into the unmarked, single-story building, past the "Shirts Required" sign in the window. It's December 1995, a gray, cold day. You're in an office building at the edge of a strip-mall parking lot north of Spokane, Washington. Traffic rumbles by. A bicycle leans against the wall in the entry. No chairs, no tables but a receptionist's desk and a countertop behind it. On the floor, stacks of "Wired" magazines. Software boxes and T-shirts are piled on the counter. Can this really be the place? A brochure on the counter reads, "Cyan, Inc.: the people who created 'Myst.'"

Everyone is here, so Rand Miller begins the staff meeting: 20 people assembled in a little room where the oblong conference table has a plastic net for Nerf Ping-Pong. Rand, 37, bearded, looking as crisp and unconventional as he did when he appeared with his brother, Robyn, 29, in The Gap ad, leans back against the wall. He wears jeans and a foulard shirt with a small pattern, and speaks from notes on his Apple Newton Message Pad.

"You can pick up your 'Myst' posters now," he says. "One free per employee. And people, please don't crowd."

He sounds like the early NBC David Letterman at his most understatedly ironic, getting a few laughs and many smiles. His voice has trace elements of Keanu Reeves as a surfer dude, struggling against a deeper rooted Texas accent. It's as if he started doing these voices as a joke, and it took. Mostly he comes across as a genuine guy, with no pretensions.

"'Myst' is generating a lot of money. I thought it would be good to give a synopsis of what we made and what we spent. From July through September we made $2.5 million in sales and we had $1.7 million in expenses in total. We have exactly $742,000 in profit," he says, pausing to glance around the room. "That money goes to Robyn and me."

He gets a laugh from about half the staff. The other half looks like: Is he serious or is he kidding? Everything's changing so fast, nobody's sure what's real and what isn't.

He is joking.

"I want you to understand, that's not what happens. This isn't a temporary thing where we let people go in slack times. That isn't the way we do business." The money's in investments he can liquidate quickly. Even in the unlikely event that "Myst" sales tank, everyone will continue to draw a salary.

Other announcements: Paul Allen, the cofounder of Microsoft, has just bought a minority position in Broderbund Software, the company that published "Myst." Smart move. On a $300,000 investment, the Millers and their team created a product that sold 2 million copies at about $50 each -- a revenue stream of nearly $100 million, on par with some of the top-grossing films of 1995. Allen's investment is a huge vote of confidence in their work.

"And one other little detail: please lock the door on weekends." Old habits die hard.

Across the room, Bonnie Staub isn't smiling, as she usually does. Maybe she's wondering if this is the same Cyan she joined in September of 1992.

Bonnie sits in her cubicle, looking distracted, glancing at her To Do list for the week. She's 23, with long, dark hair piled behind her head and held in place with a No.2 pencil. She handles public relations, recruiting of new employees, marketing -- and she arranges for bagels and coffee. She makes it a point to know how Rand likes his tall double-mocha brews -- short on espresso, heavy on hot chocolate. The question is, will Rand ever follow through on his aim to advertise the job they discussed: Somebody to Do Dinky Little Things?

To Bonnie, it's not the way it used to be, back before "Myst" went blockbuster and the Millers became folk heroes of multimedia. She can feel the difference: "I was going through the pictures the other day. Group shots from the old days at the garage. What was so cool about this one picture was, everyone looked so happy. We were having fun just taking that picture. "Let's try this! Look that way! Look this way!" In some pictures you'd see everyone hunched over because they were laughing so hard.