Preston Tucci had given a great deal of thought about what Smithers had said. Finally, he decided to take a walk through engineering. It wasn't the first time he'd been down there, far from it. Ordinarily his self-guided tours focused on the people and outputs. Today, he decided, he'd see if any ideas came to him. There were several months before he'd even have to contemplate what to do about the spent fuel assemblies, but perhaps a stroll would get his mind going.

Rigel, noticing him about to leave, made to follow.

"No," Preston said, holding up a hand. "You can stay here. Please take messages for any incoming calls, and I'll get back to them."

Rigel nodded. "Yes, Mister Tucci." She sat down, and returned to her work.

Preston walked, hands clasped behind his back, head down. He was utterly lost in thought. The spent fuel assemblies seemed the least of his worries at the moment. He needed to figure out how he could get the Board to see him as more than a space-holder CEO. Preston wracked his brain, struggling to come up with ideas. Perhaps he was thinking too big. Maybe there was something he could do at the plant level, maybe even the employee level. Some initiative program that would help.

Preston took the stairs down to the lower levels of the plant. Distracted by his thoughts, Preston barely noticed his surroundings. He rounded a corner and almost collided with Antoine who came barreling down the hall at a near sprint.

"Whoa, hey, sorry Prep," Antoine apologized, pivoting and narrowly avoiding his boss.

"Antoine, stop." Preston held up a hand. "Where are you off to in such a rush?"

Antoine shifted his weight anxiously from one foot to the other, a schematic one hand, and what appeared to be a giant pipe wrench in the other. He spoke rapidly, barely pausing for breath. "Gary and Francis shut down Hydro One so Sharon could get her crew in there for a routine swap-out. Then they found Stewart brought the wrong wrench size, so they called down to the shop and told me to bring the metric one. So, yeah, I really wanna chat, but I have to go, okay?"

Preston waved his hand. "Fine, Antoine; fine."

"Thanks, Prep. See you tonight!" Antoine jogged off down the hall, turned another corner, and disappeared. Antoine at least seemed gainfully employed.

Preston made his way down to the observation window above the cooling pond, and leaned on the frame. Below the long bay was illuminated by several halogen work lights, and the blue glow of the rod assemblies themselves. It was rather beautiful, if one didn't think about what they were looking at: several dozen tons of radioactive material sleeping in chilled water. From up here, it looked innocent, almost harmless; a safe number of basket assemblies. There was plenty of space. Re-racking was an option. Preston tapped his fingers on the window frame thoughtfully. How would Dimas have handled this? he asked himself.

He already knew the answer. Dimas would go and make whatever deal he needed to.

One of their last trips to Albany had ended with a heated argument between his former boss and a small covey of legislators over the nature of an on-site dry storage facility at Plateau City plant. Preston wondered now if that had ever been Dimas' plan, or if the above-ground storage casks would've just stood empty: a clever and expensive ruse.

Preston figured he'd never know now.

He glanced at his watch. He'd been gone long enough. If Rigel was anything like he had been when he was an assistant, she was probably getting anxious by now. Preston turned, having reached no definitive conclusion, and made his way back to his office.

Preston took a detour on his way back to his office, swinging through the employee lockers. He glanced at the OSHA bulletin board, eyes flicking over the required postings about workplace safety and antidiscrimination laws. He hadn't been down here since returning as CEO. He flipped through the pages, seeing but not really reading the content. A few of his team passed through, looking nervously at him. He could practically read their thoughts: what's the boss doing down here? Is he posting something new? His presence worried them. He couldn't help but notice no one stopped to say "hi."

Feeling oddly lonely for a man who typically enjoyed solitude, Preston took the back staircase up to the Administration and the executive department. It would take him pass Rhonda's office, but he didn't care. What could possibly happen today, he reasoned. After that little chat with Smithers, the rest of the morning would be comparatively normal, he figured.

He rounded the corner by Rhonda's fishbowl, down towards his own office, when a grating voice interrupted his quiet thoughts. "Mister Tucci, do you have a moment, please?"

Rhonda.

Preston groaned inwardly. He did not want to deal with whatever she had. He also knew there was no choice.

He turned. Rhonda, square and grey as always was standing at her door. He turned, trying to look as pleasant but patronizing. Time to wear your rank on your sleeve, he told himself, thinking of the cube farm around him. "Vice President LeBlanc, I think I can spare a minute."

She smiled without a hint of warm. "I do appreciate it, sir." She gestured to her office, and followed him in. Rhonda closed the door behind them and moved to her desk. She gestured to a large stapled manual at the center. "I thought, sir, you might want to take a refresher read through the company policy and procedures manual. I'm sure you're aware of the contents, but as Chief Executive you'll naturally understand the importance of making sure all employees follow company regulations." Her expression was positively feral. She slid the manual over to him.

Preston took it, noting a memo-tab peeked out from between the pages in one section. He flicked his eyes Rhoda and raised an eyebrow.

Rhonda still hadn't sat down. Neither had he. He could often forget that she was not a tall woman. Her head barely came up to the middle of his chest. Her personality made up for her stature, the way she could walk into a space and subdue it. Preston felt a twinge of anger; the first he'd really even felt since The Incident. It felt good to feel mad. He flipped the manual over and opened to the tabbed section.

The arrow tab pointed to a specific paragraph.

"To avoid the dangers of management fraternization with a subordinate employee, and to help prevent even the appearance of improper conduct, favoritism, improper use of authority or sexual harassment, it is the policy of the Plateau City Nuclear Generating Station that managers, supervisors or any other employee who has the authority to directly or indirectly affect the terms and conditions of another's employment shall not fraternize with that employee within or outside company property or work-related functions; nor shall any employee maintain such a relationship with any employee of a Plateau City Nuclear Generating Station client."

Preston's eyes narrowed. He shut the manual and glared at Rhonda.

"And what does this have to do with me," he asked levelly.

"So glad you asked, Mister Tucci." Rhonda reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a small remote control. She aimed it at the windows behind her. Silently, blinds unrolled from concealed housing. They lowered, blocking out the sunlight as they went. Rhonda aimed the remote at the ceiling, and dimmed the bulbs. The only light now came from the computer monitors on her desk, and the glass front wall of her office.

Rhonda gestured the monitors. "If you'd be so kind…"

Preston's brow furrowed in annoyance and confusion. He walked around and stood behind her desk next to her. He could smell the faint scent of cigarette smoke in her hair. A stale, sour odor. He wrinkled his nose.

Rhonda LeBlanc tapped the screen on one of the monitors, opening a viewer. Preston quickly realized it was a live feed to the security cameras around the plant. She swiped through several pages, then selected one: a feed from the corridor where he and Antoine had nearly collided.

Preston felt his chest tighten.

Rhonda deftly grabbed the mouse and entered a specific time. The tiny window went blank for a second while the recorded image was loaded, then snapped to life. Rhonda tapped "pause," maximized the window until it filled the frame, and hit "enable audio."

She scrolled forward at double speed. The image of Preston scurried down the corridor, almost crashing into a blue haired streak. There was some squeaking: their conversation in fast-forward. Rhonda hit "play" and the scene slowed.

Antoine was explaining. "I really wanna chat, but I have to go, okay?"

"Fine, Antoine; fine."

"Thanks, Prep. See you tonight!"

Preston stiffened involuntarily.

Rhonda smirked, and paused the video. "Did you see that?" she asked, smugly. "Let's watch it again."

The video looped through. Antoine's voice, tinny through her monitor speakers: Thanks, Prep. See you tonight. Thanks, Prep. See you tonight. She lowered the volume to a barely audible pitch, but left the scene looping.

"Care to explain that comment, Mister Tucci?"

Preston's mouth felt dry. He tried to think of the right words, and failed.

Rhonda pounced on his hesitation. "The National Labor Relations Board will easily hold up our anti-fraternization policy. Which clearly spells out that management is not to engage with non-management employees outside of work." She gestured to the manual in Preston's hands. "Thaddeus and I worried that overly familiar relationships between management and non-management could run contrary to good order and discipline in the company. I'm sure you know that. Even upper management is 'encouraged' not to engage lower management. So… what of the pilot's little remark then? Please," she made a beckoning gesture, "go on…"

Preston swallowed, the anger he'd felt moments before had gave way to a bitter sensation. Not fear, exactly. He wasn't even sure what it was. There was a heat to it. He tensed his shoulders. "I've known Antoine Radson for three years now, met him shortly after I began working here. As Mister Dimas' personal assistant, I was often in frequent contact with him, coordinating Mister Dimas' trips."

Preston felt a small ember begin to glow in his chest. It fueled his words, gave them heat. "When I was done with work, I would often join him and our fellow coworkers for dinner and drinks. Then we would part ways at the end of the evening."

"That's all? Rhonda asked, tilting her head.

"That's all," Preston replied, the anger returning. "And, quite honestly Rhonda, I don't see how that's relevant."

She stopped the video.

"Well, you see, you're clearly management now. We can't have you hanging out with non-management. It could be perceived as favoritism, or inappropriate. Tell me, were you planning on a social meeting with Radson outside of work tonight?"

Preston was quick to react defensively. "My friendship with my fellow employees predates my position as CEO," he replied sharply. "As I recall, by law if a relationship is pre-existing before establishment of positional authority, it cannot be considered fraternization."

Rhonda brightened the lights and raised the blinds. "I see. Well, that would have to be a matter for Human Resources to decide; if ever it came to that of course. I trust it won't?"

Preston drew himself up to his full height. "What I trust, Rhonda, is that you will do your job for this company. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a business to run." Preston stormed out of her office. He didn't wait for a reply.


Preston left work a bit earlier than usual, after sending Antoine a text to wait for him. Evening had settled, and it was cold, but not in the way that promised snow. There was an aching dampness to the air. Preston could smell it as he neared the door. He drew his scarf about his neck and sighed. Antoine was already there, leaning against the wall and watching their coworkers trickle out.

Antoine smiled when he saw Preston, eyes lighting up.

Preston couldn't help but smile in return, despite the fatigue he felt. It was nice to see a friendly face.

"Hey, boss," chipped Antoine. He held the door for Preston and followed his boss outside. "Ugh," Antoine muttered, pulling a wool cap out of his pocket and cramming it over his head. "Rain. Why is it always rain? Should be snow."

Preston turned his collar up and tucked his hands into the pockets of his wool overcoat. "Long December," he muttered. He headed across the parking lot to the bus station, Antoine loping along at his side.

"Well now that song's going to be in my head all night," Antoine muttered as they packed into the sheltered bus stop. Antoine glanced at Preston, his mood a bit more subdued that usual. "The feeling that it's all a lot of oysters, but no pearls, eh?"

Preston resisted the urge to pat Antoine on the shoulder. "You have no idea, my friend. None whatsoever."

Antoine shrugged. He watched the rain roll down the sides of the plexiglass shelter.

Preston noticed Antoine was humming quietly to himself, swinging his head gently to some melody only he could hear.

Up ahead their bus was coming, tires hissing against the wet pavement. With a growl and a squeal, came to a stop. The pistons hissed as the bus knelt down to the curb. Antoine, Preston, and several other employees climbed aboard. As usual, Preston and Antoine sat next to each other.

Antoine was still humming to himself. He stared out the window, the water streaking across the window as the bus gathered speed in the darkness. Rhythmically, the streetlights passed overhead, illuminating their seats at regular intervals. Antoine closed his eyes and leaned his head back. He looked oddly at peace in his beat up canvas jacket and military watchcap; blue hair peeking out from the edges.

"And it's one more day up in the canyon," Antoine sang softly. "And it's one more night in Hollywood. And it's been so long since I've seen the ocean… guess I should." He hummed the chords quietly.

In that moment, Preston truly envied his friend. Antoine's ability to block out the everyday distractions, and find his own tiny moments of peace. You have no idea how lucky you are, Preston thought as he let his eyes trace over the contours of Antoine's face. I'd give anything to be you right now.