Max balanced forward, elbows on her desk, tapping at the holo. Something was off with her haptic settings. Delay, or…something - maybe it was her. Felt like hitting a melted marshmallow in the air instead of the pear-fresh snap she preferred. No diagnostic help from Chloe. She was long gone before Max got back home this morning. Downstairs. Working on her new machine in the dark again.
They'd had a couple of weeks. To adjust.
Took Chloe and the extraction teams two days to get the artifact out of the vault wall, back at Site 6. Careful logistics to transport it safely to one of the lab spaces at HQ - middle of the night, of course. Even with all that, the drones scanning the road ahead missed something an hour or so in. Semi-truck took a surprise bump creeping around a corner. Jostled the back wrong, and the device shifted laterally. Expanded by ten feet in diameter, momentarily exceeding eighty tons before breaking free and rolling off in another, smaller direction. That was the only incident. Few hours to replace the trailer wheels and two axles, and they were back home.
They briefed the exec team day same day. Then went back and forth about telling the rest of the global staff. Those arguing for a wait were concerned about the high probability they'd be freaking everyone out on insufficient information. Chloe and Max were united on the side of disclosure. Along with Sophie. If there was ever an appropriate time for everyone to freak the fuck out, this was probably it. Wasn't the answer to the Fermi paradox some were hoping for. But…
Rip the bandage off.
Transparency won. The global all-hands meeting was predictably tense. Stunned silence mixed with unanswerable questions. But that was partly their point. They needed their team engaged to help figure it all out.
Didn't end up changing much in the way of projects or priorities or day to day activities, but it did shift the context for everyone. Staff went through the predictable stages. But by the second week, a sort of gallows humor crept in. And now, it was feeling almost back to normal. It wasn't, but… Turns out, Nelson had been right. Teams looked to Max and Chloe for a sense of how to react. So they played the role of participatory leaders. Concerned. Caring. But not fearful. Had the intended effect.
Not that there weren't private moments of doubt...
Yeah… Meanwhile, Chloe's looking to me for a sense of how to react…
Have to remind myself… she has copies of OtherChloe's memories - and admittedly god-tier augmentation - but…she's still chronologically twenty-one. Okay, almost twenty-two (which reminds me…). It all helps, but she's still just a li'l pup underneath all that tech and memory armor…
Max wasn't without her own fears…but the buck had to stop somewhere.
That was her burden to carry. …another.
She sipped at her second cup of coffee. Trying to shake the cobwebs out.
Last night had been another sleepless one, which didn't help with her mood.
The late evening request came from deep inside Roscosmos. Unofficially, of course. Colleague to colleague, backchannels. They'd lost power on a very expensive and important satellite observatory yesterday afternoon. Bad luck. Suspected micrometeoroid strike. They could replace the power systems, but had no way to get people out and back with its highly elliptical orbit. Rumor was, 'someone' had a quiet way up. And it would be worth a hundred million to them if the observatory could somehow be salvaged and repaired before its orbit decayed. Fraction of what it cost them to design, manufacture and put it up there.
The zeroes added up for Jeremy. And intel confirmed it didn't have military applications, so no red flags. But of course, Max was their space program, so it had to be her. No one outside MCCP could know that, which complicated things a little, as the Russians were insistent on using at least one of their own techs to do the repairs.
In the end, Max folded Skywatch around the satellite, matching orbit, capturing it in their main build-bay. A few of the shake-down crew helped retract the thirty-foot dish and twin solar arrays so the whole thing would fit inside the large format shipping container she'd brought up. Once inside, they rigged some lighting, locked the container and Max folded the sedated technician and his stuff directly into it. Took him an hour to come far enough out to confidently begin. Another three to complete the repairs, along with a few opportunistic upgrades. He self-sedated after, as agreed, having never been aware of how he'd been transported, or that he'd ever been inside a space station. Took him back to HQ, where they kept him under for a few hours to hide any timing detail. Meanwhile, the team unfurled the dish and solar array inside the bay. With all the lead shielding, signals back to earth didn't resume until Max folded Skywatch back to L2, leaving the repaired satellite free to continue its prior orbit.
It was a good night's work, grossed them a cool hundred-mil, but…this was two nights in a row without rest. She was pretty much beat. Granted, she could crash out for the day and rewind or jump after, but…meh. There's something a little…human, she was going to say, but maybe a little more…nostalgic…about being like everyone else? Even if she didn't have to be. Push through.
She went to take another sip, got air, noticed her mug was empty. How many times had she done that just now without noticing?
Cupboard door crashed in the other room. Emo, off running around like a furry race car, launching off of walls and scrabbling over tile. Need to get some new pictures. Refocused. There was a reason she came in here. Wasn't there? Crap. Oh, Right. Squished the display. Scanned her inbox on the screen. Messages waiting.
Their direct contact info wasn't published anywhere on their web site, and Max's meager social accounts were private. So, forwarding notes from randoms addressed to Max or Chloe was a fact of life for the sales and marketing teams. Sometimes HR, PR, anyone with an externally published company email address or social account, really.
Only a hundred this weekend. Slackin' off, peeps…
Thankfully, they filtered the obvious interview requests, spam, cranks and trolls. That left a combination of random fan mail, charitable requests, a few personal notes, and a lesser number of non-threatening weirdos, inventors and theorists. And the occasional 'missed connection' attempt. Which she suspected was mostly John, messing with the sales and marketing staff.
She made the time to skim most of them.
Some messages she saved. Little reminders or pick-me-ups. A minor form of therapy. She heard PR had IT archiving all of them going back pretty far. Jillian probably had dreams of publishing them in a tribute book someday or something. Never happen. They came in over public lines, but they were still private and special to Max. She let the archive continue out of respect for the senders, but that was as far as it would ever go.
Few more minutes yet. She sipped again at her empty cup, made a face at herself, put it down. Scanned a few messages near the top.
::::::::::
DEAR MISSES MAXINE CAULDSFIELDS!
my names casey and Im 5 and a HALF. THanks for saving mom from the fire at wrok. W e won ttell. but Im glad th4 it burned and how she's home again all day. here
Your freind i hope!
casey.
ps! im almost 6 soon ok bye
::::::::::
Max smiled, saved.
Gulf of Mexico. Breaking news report about a month ago. Started as a fire in the kitchen of an offshore oil rig. Faulty suppression. Spread quickly through living quarters. Six people died before… Max popped back, got there as it started, folded three people out, dumped a room full of sand from the middle of a Saharan dune to put out the fire before it could spread. No casualties. No news item. Someone obviously recognized her though. Have to send Chloe on another internet scrubbing session soon…
The ones from kids were always cute. She could usually tell when the parents helped.
This didn't seem like one of those.
She read the next note.
::::::::::
Max,
Hi. Guess it's okay to call you that. You probably don't remember me at all. I wouldn't have.
This is weird. I'm really sorry to intrude. I just recognized the picture of you, from the paper, and finally found your web site. Had no idea who you guys were then. But I need to say this anyway. Even if you never get it or read it or whatever. Promise I'm not stalking, but I was your server at Cora's, over by 95. You and your partner came in for dinner maybe a year ago? After I took your order I guess, you saw through the concealer, and I just wanted to say thank you. For what you guys said. I know I brushed you off, but I did think about it later. It kept coming back. And I don't know, I guess I was in denial. But I did it. Finally got out, told my brother what that POS did, and now I'm just taking some time on my own for a while. I know it was a nothing moment for you. But, you really helped me. Even if I didn't think I needed it. So, thank you.
Elise.
::::::::::
Max clicked. Another 'save'. "I do remember. Good for you."
Time for just one more.
::::::::::
Yo, Maximus Maximus,
Man, I don't know what the fuck you are. Jury's out. but I know what you done. Blanca, she's my cuz. Arturo too. David, Tomas they all used to roll with us back in the day. OG. Bailed out now, thanks to whatever shit you said to that judge. Home hanging with the fam, you know, heard all bout that shit went down. Stories going round. stuff they wont put on the news. googled up. some batshit out there bout you, but you know, lines up with what they sayin.
I don't know. you bought mad respect tho. Goin' off, gettin' all fuckin crazy xmen and shit. Even after they banged on you and your crew, you all like off rescuing family from the same motherfuckers that stole em? Like, what? Man, nobody does shit for nobody. Jus let the cops fail, whatever. But you looked past whats in your face to see what s really real. Listened. fuckin' helped. Epic fuckin beatdowns too. Represent.
Like they sayin now you all sent by god and shit. sposed to be some kinda angel. Don't know bout that. But whateva. Fuck it. We got u now, ya know? I know you all rich and freaky and whatever, don't need nothing. But don't matter. word spreadin. Y'all pulled in some major rep for that shit. Ain't forgot.
Peace yo.
Damien OUT.
::::::::::
Max paused. Let out a breath.
Really, really need to get Chloe out on a scrubbing run. I'm almost afraid to look at what kinds of 'batshit' might be out there…
Still… she grinned. Three for three. Good morning. She hit 'save'. Covered her mouth as she giggled. "Oh my god. I can't wait to tell Chloe. She's gonna be so super jealous. I have actual real live official 'rep' now!" Hehe.
Juliet reclaimed her tea chair across from the disheveled man. Not unattractive. Grey-black mop. Wire glasses. Stubbly. Rumpled. Or well-traveled maybe? Elliot. My babysitter.
"We didn't get a chance to Skype before I left. Sorry." he offered with a lazy wave of his hand.
She caught the faint echo of an accent, but couldn't place it.
He'd only knocked on her hotel door a moment ago. She thought he might, so she'd gotten up early to shower. Light makeup. Enough to cover for the redeye out of JFK anyway. Hair wrapped in a towel. Pink sweat pants, Uggs and stretchy black top. Hand-made necklace she'd picked up at a boutique in Chelsea. Comfortable. Morning. Wasn't even seven yet. It was stupid, but this was kindof a big kid day for her. Tired, but really excited too.
She lifted her cappuccino. "It's okay. Where did you come in from? I've read a few of your bylines, but I don't remember seeing you in the New York office."
He noticed the extra cup on the table. Near the fruit. Espresso. Nodded a thanks, slammed it, slouched back. "I live in Lisbon now. But split my work time between Geneva and London. We have so little time this morning to prepare. Might we talk strategy instead? What can you tell me about them? Personal. Outside the usual corporate bio bullshit? You were all friends in school?"
She nodded, put the cup down, sat up a little straighter. Business then. "Well, I wouldn't go so far as to say we were all friends…"
"That's the line you sold your chief." He paused, seemed disappointed.
"Oh, don't get me wrong. I probably knew Max as well as anyone there after a few months sharing a bathroom. A lot of people, they thought she was just this stuck up hipster chick from Seattle, you know, with pretensions at art. But she wasn't. Not like that. She had an okay eye, even if it was a little one-note. Quiet, but she could be sweet. A little funny. Maybe more sarcastic than funny? People thought she was, you know, kind of disinterested; I did at first. But mostly I think she was just painfully shy. Total late bloomer syndrome. She said once that she used her camera to sort of mediate between herself and rest of the world, and like, that's…I think all some people ever saw."
"Interesting. None of that shows up in her public persona. What's it been for you all? Few years only since, ah…?"
"Yeah. Look, even then I figured she was just kinda late to her own life, you know? But toward the end, she was starting to get out a little more, more confident, opened up a little."
"End?"
"Arcadia Bay. Town on the Oregon coast where we met; it was torn apart by a freak waterspout partway through our senior year…"
"Oh, right. That was sad. Lot of dead people. I remember something about that. But Max survived. You too?"
"Yeah. Well…obviously? I never saw her again though. That whole time period was pretty much a horrible blur. I lost more than a few friends… But…I didn't put it all together until last year. Where they were and…what they were now. I reconnected with one of the other survivors from our dorm on Facebook. She deactivated her account for a while I guess, but she brought me up to speed. A little fawning, but…Max was helping her out with something pretty serious, and like full-on saved her life back then…"
"Caulfield? Saved someone's life?"
"Kate. That's her name. There was a…bad party video of her. Went viral. Nothing porny, but still pretty embarrassing…"
"Fuckin' school-kids, man. You're all mean as snakes now with the social and the internet."
"Yeah. I was just as guilty for watching it, I know. But…it put her up on the edge of a roof. We did. To make it worse, we found out later she was drugged. In the video. Another victim of one of Mark Jefferson's protégés…"
"Jesus. Jet-lag. Yeah, yeah… Jefferson. Creepy has-been asshole went down for drugging girls for some kind of higher fucking art or something? That was the same town? Same time. Shit."
"Yeah…"
"Different articles. Funny how things that stick in your head as unrelated were all part of someone's bad week."
"Yeah. Mine. Max's too. And her, I guess partner now, Chloe. She lost her mother. After losing her dad when she was a few years younger I think. Sucked. Anyway, the roof. We were all just freaking out, you know, scared as hell but…gawking. Max got up there somehow, talked her down. At least one person in this fucked up little world was on her side. Max saved us as much as Kate, I think. I can't imagine…if she'd really jumped… Like, I mean, that moment on, Max was our fucking hero too. You know, for a few days. Until half the town died. Like I said, it was all fucked up."
"Okay, so this is good detail. Helpful. We'll need to round this out by sourcing some quotes from others who were there. You can add more color on background later, but it's really best for the article if the quotes are attributed to someone else."
"No, I understand how stories go together…"
"Here then - let me see your outline. You have some questions already? What are your thoughts on direction?"
"Yeah. Here." She pulled it up on her phone, handed it across the table to him.
He studied. Groused. "Bad questions."
"What do you mean? This is just…"
"This is the Journal, not People Magazine. Too fluffy. And half of these we could look up ourselves. Don't waste interview time."
Juliet scowled. "I was going to…"
He ignored her. "Listen. Background you gave was okay. But psychology aside, where's the story? What's new? Interesting?"
"Um…that she's talking at all?"
"No, I'll tell you one angle - the billion-dollar question. How did global fucking darling MCCP rise out of those two girls? Out of them specifically I mean? What did they do? How? There's no time between. No skills acquisition. No time or place for networking. Business is hard. It takes money, work, education, people, and a lot of time. You went to the same school. You're what, in school still? Social media guru or whatever they call you unemployed millennials now?"
"You're thinking student, blogger and intern, but I'm heading toward journalist." She was liking him less the more he spoke.
"Whatever. You'll be out of work with the rest of us soon enough. My point - you're here, they're there. It's not normal. Especially if they weren't taking over a legacy business from their parents or something."
"No, there's tons of young…"
He rolled his eyes. "Yes, okay. Sure. In fucking California, where twenty-year-old dropouts play beer-pong with strippers and run consumer tech 'companies' that have never made a dime, and probably never will make a dime - but they're somehow worth billions on paper. At least the Tech City kids in London have the good sense to stay in school. Thing is, even the dropout's funding is transparent - everyone is proud to shout it out. And what they've built is mostly trivial - simple - whatever next flavor of mobile chat app or…you know what I mean?"
Juliet didn't bother to respond.
"It's not the same. This MCCP is a complex, multidisciplinary technical conglomerate with nearly twenty-thousand employees worldwide. They're channeling massive amounts of money into R&D, with published roadmaps commercializing breakthroughs in an almost non-profit sort of way. Maybe if they were old-money wunderkind or something and had been at this for twenty years it would make sense, but…
"They're your friends. Who invested in these girls to start with? How did they meet them? How could someone responsible make a financial decision like that? Are they even qualified to be receptionists at a company of this scale? On paper I mean? You see the gap? From nothing, in under three years. Why do any of their employees listen to them? How can they respect such ignorance, being top educated minds in their fields? And there's nothing about this angle out there. It's a story no one has written - and one they don't seem anxious to tell.
"I spend most of my time chasing corporate bullshittery in the EU. I've looked at part of this company before over there. What little shows. Talked to people. It's privately held, but seems clean. What they sell is miracles, which is the first red flag. Who knows if any of it's real? Fusion and clean tech and rumors of other things. Some do-gooder tech moguls, your friends, yeah? Something's got to be off here. They aren't those people. Can't be, can they? How? Who are their investors? What's it all about? You see it too? You knew them both - did you ever think…"
She shook her head, resigned. Wheels turning. "No. Hell no. Chloe, she was a juvenile delinquent on her way to becoming an adult delinquent. Max was afraid of her own shadow. I guess they grew up together in town, before, but believe me, I'm more than a little baffled. I spent a little time with Max in the dorms, on the rare occasions she came out of her room. She was usually invisible in classes, but… I partied with Chloe a few times too, back before she got herself expelled. She was always pretty wasted, honestly. Pawing all over Rachel Amber. That was our friend…the girl Jefferson murdered before… No one could figure out why Rachel put up with Chloe though. She was so obvious. Always out of it. It was really painful to watch. But then, Chloe chased Rachel's ghost long after everyone else had given up, so what the fuck do I know about what they were to each other? Look, I'm not trying to slam them or anything, cause I really did feel bad for Chloe, and Max was nice - just super unsure of herself. Point is, they're just the normal amount of fucked up. Like anyone else. Like, not terrible, not great. Smart-ish, but not geniuses as far as I could tell. I uh, honestly have no idea where all this came from."
He shrugged. "Martians then?"
"Huh?"
"Sorry. Joke. Replaced by Martians. Okay, so I need breakfast and half an hour. We'll talk more on the ride over. But you play the friend. I'm going to push. Just a tactic. Want to see what shakes loose. How they do under pressure. I have a couple of additional angles in mind, a few outside sources and leads to chase, but I want to get their reactions to a few things in the room. I don't expect them to actually answer all of the questions as asked. And you should know that I don't necessarily think everything I say in there is true. But if you watch, you'll learn more from their body language and reactions than their words. That will guide you to the right questions. Pay attention, and you might learn something today that stays with you the rest of your career."
"Wait, I'm doing the…"
"You're an access key - sorry sweetie, but that's the truth, and everyone in the room already knows it. But as a friend, you're also there to apologize for me later. Get invited to something social after maybe if you can. We may only ever get this one shot at interviewing them, so I still need to do my job. Yours is to try to smooth that over - and maybe keep the lines open. It would be a minor coup if we were the only paper with regular access, but I get paid the same and go back home after either way. One good story at least. There's something off here. We both see it. So I'm going to pull some threads."
"I hear you, but I thought…"
"That you'd be the one running the interviews? That's cute. And they flew me all the way here for what? To sit like a pretty flower? This is how it is. The way of things. You're a sophomore intern and we're handing you shared byline on a major profile exclusive for one of the most respected newspapers in the world."
"That's not fair. It's not what I was promised, or what they're expecting."
"Fair? It's more than fair. All you have to do is show up, and we literally green-light the rest of your career. It almost doesn't matter what they say. It's more than anyone else has gotten. Enjoy the ride. Do your part. Everyone comes out way ahead. It's why you're here, yes?" He rose, lumbered toward the door. "I'm going. Downstairs in 30 minutes. Wear that top and a short skirt if you have one. They swing your way - you might distract one of them long enough to accidentally say something off script…"
Juliet was almost speechless. Almost. "You're an actual pig."
As the door closed behind him, "Cynical realist, but as you say. 30 minutes. No more."
Max walked out to the kitchen, dropped her mug in the sink. Felt something off a fraction of a second before his voice broke the air behind her.
"Ms. Caulfield. If I might have a word?"
She turned to the living room, to the source. To the tiny squeak of Emo.
He filled the large overstuffed chair between two of the sofas. Halfway across the room. Sharp green eyes, medium length black hair, trimmed beard. Older. In his forties, maybe. He wore an expensive black suit, tailored. Shoes polished to mirror perfection. Fat gold Rolex. His large hands surrounded Emo like a cage. Held him in place on his chest.
All the obvious questions - who was this dude, how did he get in, what did he want - faded to background before her inner voice could repeat them. Her eyes were on Emo. Captive. She held there for a moment. Barefoot. Still in PJs. Closed her eyes. They opened on his at the end of her blink.
Calmly, she tilted her head a little to one side. "You're gonna wanna be very deliberate and slow with your choice of movements." She stopped all of time, moved across the room to the end of the coffee table opposite him. Restarted.
Took his eyes a second to catch up to where she'd gone. A momentary flash of nervousness. Good.
He glanced away, back down to Emo, shook his head. "What? I'd never. Please. I'm not a monster. We're not…monsters, Max. Neither are you."
"So you guys keep saying…all evidence to the contrary. You're a stranger in our house, holding our kitten. And about three seconds from the inside of a neutron star. Talk."
He cleared his throat. "Andersen. We know you have him. We'd like him back."
"No."
"But, you haven't heard…"
"No."
"But…"
"He's being detained."
"Where?"
"I'd rather not say."
"You released others - why keep him?"
"We're monitoring the ones we didn't hand to the police. And he tried to kill me."
"You can't really blame him for trying?"
"Sure I can."
"I see. Still alive at least?"
"He's fine. I can arrange a visit if you'd like."
"You'd allow us that?"
"Sure." She motioned down to Emo. "Might wanna set him down before he gets fidgety. Claws."
"Oh, of course." He reached over and gently set Emo on the arm of the sofa beside him.
The microscopic black hole growing in the middle of his brain reversed, dissipated.
"Come." She folded them both to the detention facility loading dock. One-hundred-eighty million years in the past, half a mile below the surface of Luna. Bubbled him on landing. Frozen. She wandered off in short, low-G skip-hops to find Margaret or one of the guards. No more Mario Kart today, guys. Sorry…
She found Margaret in her office, going over some reports. Max leaned against the doorway, tapped lightly.
"Max! How are you dear?" She swiveled slowly.
"Hey Margaret. I'm good. Any progress with our resident bad guy?"
"Annoyingly, no. It's not even his training. Well, of that sort, anyway. He's apparently becoming one with his empty self, and aside from a few snippets during his more delta moments, there's nothing much new to report. Cookie?" Margaret held out a small plate sitting on her desk.
Max looked, reached, took one. "Thanks. Could use the sugar. Any chance he'll discover enlightenment and want to help us out on his own?" She took a bite. "Mmph. Oh my god this is good."
Margaret held out another. "Fresh. And I really couldn't say. I've gotten a few bits that point to Tibet, but the bio Chloe and Jillian put together says he's been there off and on over the years, so no surprises I suppose."
Between bites, "Well, I might have a present for you. Something to rattle the cage." She shifted her weight slightly, chewing, swallowed, motioned over her shoulder toward the landing zone.
"Oh?"
Max stabilized herself in time. Nodded. A tiny break from her constant micro-jumps. Allowing Margaret to read her.
"Hmmm. And then there were two. Just like that, he shows up. And he held on to your kitty?" Margaret tittered. "They used to be brighter than that."
"I'll take your word for it. I figured you could play with him. Or maybe crash him into Andersen. Whatever. If they know each other, it might catalyze a break in concentration or something to give you a way in. Plus whatever you can get out of the new guy, obviously." Max shrugged. "More names, a wedge into their networks…something."
"This should be interesting." Margaret tapped the holo. Intercom. "Billy, would you mind sending a few of the boys down to the dock? We have a new guest."
A break, game sounds faded, then a voice. "Sure thing. Be right over…"
She turned back to Max. "Next time, you should at least get a name yourself…"
"Yeah, I was mostly all about getting this creep away from Emo and out of our house."
"Well, it was nice of you to leave his arms on. But I'm sure you have more important things to do today, Max. We can take it from here."
"You sure?"
"Where is he going to get to?"
Max nodded. "I'll be back sometime tomorrow anyway. Try to bring you guys some new shows?"
"Thank you, yes, that would be lovely. Tea as well, if you can. We're nearly down to decaf."
Max winced. "Ouch. Sorry."
Margaret stood, moved toward the door. "We'll take care of this. You can run along."
Max chuckled. Margaret was such a grandmother. "Trying to get rid of me? You do realize I'm way older than you, right?" She smiled wide.
Margaret smiled right back. "Yes, well. Some of us age more gracefully than others. I'm speaking of myself, by the way. If you were confused."
Max nodded. "No confusion. Thanks for the cookies. And have fun with your new toy."
"I hope to have something helpful before you return."
"And if not, we still have two verified bad guys in custody. We might have to think about what's next if this trend keeps up."
"I'm sure you'll find a wonderful planet for them, dear."
Max paused. Considered. "You know - that's actually not a terrible idea… Long as they can't multiply." Max gave her a quick familiar hug, waved goodbye, released the bubble back at the dock. Vanished.
Picked Emo off the arm of the sofa and held him to her chest. Gave him a little nuzzle. "Chloe." The building connected her to Chloe's lab.
Her voice sparkled down from the speakers overhead. "Morning sleepyhead. Whassup?"
Max scratched behind Emo's ears. He purred against her softly. "Hey love. Just wanted to let you know that we had a minor security breach this morning…"
"Yeah, I let him break in. Figured there was entertainment value if nothing else…"
"Thought so. Just wanted to make sure. Home tonight?"
"Should be. This is taking a lot of attention; I know - sorry. But I'll hang out with you today too if you want?"
"Cool. Yes, please. I like knowing you're around."
"I'm always around…"
Max relaxed. Warm sunlight poured over bare shoulders, splashed her shadow out across the large expanse of dark grass. She could easily crash right here, right now. Might have to, after. She sipped at her coffee, keeping an eye on Emo as he jauntily frog-hopped across the green toward the koi ponds and mini-forest taking up the outer half of the wing. Exploration mode. Max gave a little wave to the green hummingbird flitting around. Chloe shot over, spun in a quick circle before darting off. Always on the move.
She glanced at her phone on the table. Tapped it to check the time. They'll be here in a few. This felt like the right place to catch up with Juliet after all these years. Waterfalls. Towering trees. Sunshine and critters. Their serene little indoor homage to the Oregon coast. And more. Better than her office. With all the bad guy notes taped up all over the walls… There's your real story…
She had a white circular Saarinen dining table and three matching Bertoia diamond wire chairs set up on the concrete pad, left of center on the lawn, a quarter of the way down the wing. Simple, elegant, classic. Coffee service cart to one side. A little retro-modern neo-futurism to contrast with the captive nature around them. She'd grown to appreciate design over the centuries. Hard to improve on the masters…
Debated jeans and a t-shirt for this, but it felt too same-same. She remembered how Juliet always rocked stylish, even dressing down. She still wanted to keep it simple, nice. So Max opted for a soft white asymmetrical silk drape top, lightweight fitted grey pants with black zips just above the ankle and powder-blue slip-on Vans. No socks. She had her hair back in a pony-tail, blue tips mostly falling behind her, with a few loose strands hanging on the left side of her face. Felt right. Relaxed. Comfortable. Mix of styles that kinda worked together. Light simple makeup, more blues than oranges today.
She looked over, noticed one of the red squirrels on a low branch keeping a wary eye on her fuzzy little interloper, tail twitching. Called out, "Be nice, squirrelios. He'll be bigger than you one day soon…and Emo - friends."
Half daydreaming, she looked up. Took a deep breath. Appreciated the complex scents of fresh coffee and green living things. Moments. Sky and treetops… Getting close up there. The terrarium was only supposed to take three floors of the wing, leaving the ceiling about sixty feet above. One below for roots and infrastructure. But as fast as some of these trees were growing, they might need to knock out another floor up there at some point. Add yet another far below ground to make up the difference in workspace. Max scanned the artificial sky. Blended perfectly with the view out the glass walls. Optics on the very top of the building kept the illusion absolutely perfect. Active camo in another form.
Home away from home away from home... Lids dropped. On the edge of dozing off, she added a little more sugar to her coffee.
Emo chirped as he neared the koi.
Max half turned, lazily, "Hey - don't fall in li'l dude. You're gonna be cold." He stopped at the concrete edge of the pond, bread-loafed, tiny paws curled over the edge, looking down. Tail flipping. No doubt fascinated by the flashes of rippling orange against the dark background below. Plus, sun patch. Warm concrete. Didn't listen to Max, but also didn't fall in. Kindof a win.
"Chloe, love? Would you mind playing lifeguard while they're here? Shouldn't be long. I know you'll be listening in with one ear anyway?"
A couple of hummingbirds raced by. The yellow one took up a branch above Emo. The green did a quick barrel-roll before rocketing fifty-feet up to the nearest treetop.
"Thanks babe."
John leaned back as the server topped up his coffee, took another bite of his breakfast sandwich. "Mmph. Thanks".
"Still comin' for a run with me later?" asked Ty, plate full of eggs, bacon and beans.
"Yeah. 3?"
"Yep."
"Wish I could join you guys."
John replied, "It's open invite, Soph. Wait…where are you?"
"Amsterdam. Just started my vacation. It's dinnertime, but I didn't want to eat alone."
"Nice. You could always rent a bike later. It's a beautiful city."
"Thanks, Tyrell. I've been here, but always a day or two at a time only. I love it though. I'm planning to spend some time lurking near university tomorrow. Absorbing. Then I thought I'd sign up for a bike tour in the afternoon. Should be fun. Let me know if anyone wants to ride along. Happy to share."
"The Insta-Sophie-Gram Telepathic VR Experience." John chuckled. "Sounds fun. Hey - I don't know if you saw, but they, uh, outed Alena's identity on one of the cable news shows this morning."
"Oh… I didn't know. Thanks for the memory. Was a matter of time. I'll check in to see how she's doing after we eat."
John wiped his mouth. "That's gotta be weird at that age. Assholes. She's just a kid. Has her dad started yet?"
"Yeah. Last week. We set him up with a studio space on 26b. Product shots, headshots, that sort of thing. He really loves it."
"Okay, cool. Might stop up. See if he wants or needs any help running interference with the press. Speak of the devil…"
Jillian plopped down next to John, granola over yogurt. "Scoot. What did I do now?"
"Hi Jilli."
"Oh, hey Sophie. Aren't you supposed to be out of the country?"
"I am."
John continued, "We were just talking about Alena. Little girl who…"
"Yeah… that sucks. Saw the clip a few minutes ago. Want me to talk to her dad? He's here now, right? Could see if he needs any advice or help?"
Sophie giggled in their heads.
John laughed. "That's what we were talking about when you walked up."
"Of course. Let me know. Um. Side-question John - any idea when we close on Lombard? Legal's not giving me a straight answer. Release is done, but…"
"I heard late next week. Which is good, cause I think the Parker Brigade is looking for somewhere to send up their new anti-grav test drones."
Ty laughed. "You mean crash and explode 'em. Area fuckin' 51, man. Shit's unreal."
"Off limits for me. Little annoyed about that." said Jillian between bites.
Ty chimed in. "Sophie, any truth to the rumor an Agent of Doom dropped in on our fearless leaders this morning?"
"Amsterdam. I can check though."
He laughed. "Wouldn't have wanted to be that dude."
"I heard it was just Max at home. On two nights of no sleep." John toasted the alleged victim with his coffee cup.
"Ouch. Really wouldn't have wanted to be that dude."
"Least Jeremy's happy. Max's hourly billing rate is astronomical."
Sophie laughed. "I see what you did there…"
Jillian looked worried. "Didn't realize she wasn't sleeping. She's got an interview with a couple of Journal reporters starting in a few minutes."
"Why aren't you down there?" asked John.
"Ah. She didn't want any help. She's Max, so… you know. Larsen volunteered to play escort and handle intros. Guess it's slow in ops these days? Anyway, thanks for the breakfast chat. I gotta go chase a few input docs. See you guys later."
"Bye Jilli." said Sophie.
Jillian waved at the rest as she got up to leave.
"Off to the range. North lot at 3, John. Take care Sophie. Let me know if you get bored later."
"Will do. Ciao guys."
"Bye everyone."
Max startled awake as the elevator at the core dinged.
Tapped at her phone, went holo before they could exit. Paged sideways through a few designs in the air as they walked toward her. Stuff she thought she might show Juliet, depending on where their conversation went.
When they were about twenty feet away, she tapped out of holo-mode, shutting down her phone. Rose up from her chair to meet them at the end of the concrete pad.
Juliet looked just the same. Even her hair. Perfect makeup. Cute clothes. Totally put together. And infuriatingly casual and unconcerned at the same time. It was a talent, for sure.
Next to her, a man she suspected would be most at home reading a real folding newspaper at an outdoor a cafe in Paris. In the 1970's. Possibly in grainy black and white. Probably in the rain.
Leading them over, Hank Larsen in his trademark black suit and skinny black tie… Part time company evangelist and orienteer, part time team precog. Leading edge of the second wave, right after they moved in. Some silly percentage of employees had come through his first day shenanigans, remarkably well adjusted, and with glowing reviews. He was a quiet treasure.
She wasn't sure why he was the one bringing them up though…
"Mrs. Caulfield? Sorry to intrude. I'd like to re-introduce you to Ms. Juliet Watson. And introduce you to Mr. Elliot Portnoi. They're here for the profile piece in the Journal. Ms. Watson, Mr. Portoi, Mrs. Maxine Caulfield, co-founder of MCCP. Regrettably, something unexpected came up and Mrs. Price won't be joining you all today. She sends her apologies and regards. I think Jillian can follow up with any arrangements for voice or video catchup if necessary." He nodded as they sat down. "Okay, I'll leave you all to it. When you're ready to go, I'll be back to escort you down."
"Thanks Hank." said Max. He nodded, turned and walked purposefully toward the elevator.
Max winked at Juliet, shook Elliot's hand before taking her own seat.
Juliet spoke first, inscrutable smile on her face. "Hey Max. Been a while. Wanted to thank you for taking the time to meet with us. I've been told this isn't something you usually do, so it means a lot that you agreed."
Max nodded. Crossed her legs as she leaned forward, refreshed her coffee from the silver press. Motioned to her guests, but they declined. Said softly, "You look great, Juliet. How have you been? New York treating you okay?"
"Thanks, you too. I've been good. Few ups and downs, but full time at Columbia now, still living the dorm life. The internship has been a learning experience. And the city is, I think, about as different from Arcadia Bay as you can get… I'd ask what you've been up to, but I guess that's why we're here. I understand you've set aside about a half hour for us?"
"Yeah, but it's okay if we go a little over. Not like they'll fire me for being late or anything." Max smiled casually.
"Cool. I think the focus overall will be on the company, but for today, our Q&A will be mostly about you, if that makes sense? Sorry we missed Chloe…"
"Sure. I know she was looking forward to this too. But we can start if you'd like."
"Okay. Do you mind if we record the interview? Accuracy. Backup for our notes?"
"No, that's fine."
Juliet set her phone on the table, hit record. "Ok. This is a little weird. Sorry, Max. I feel a little like I'm in two places right now. Like, seeing you again, it's bringing a lot of Blackwell memories back. Stuff I thought I'd forgotten, or…you know. But at the same time, seeing you again, here…" Juliet looked around the terrarium, hands out, "I don't know. It makes me wonder if any of us ever really knew you at all. Like - how did we miss the seeds of all of…this?"
Max nodded. Shit. She's good. Smooth - right to the heart of it…
…leaving Max in two places too. In one of them, she hadn't seen Juliet in two and a half years. That's who Juliet saw. In another, it was closer to half a millennium. And it really would be so much easier to answer her question with that context, because then all of this would make perfect sense. Navigating this kind of 'origin' question was among the reasons she didn't personally like to give interviews. She understood the cognitive dissonance, the core WTF of it all. Wasn't sure how she wanted to respond yet, exactly. But it should make sense from the younger perspective. Which was the problem, because it obviously didn't.
Let's play it closer to the Max she knew to start. See how it goes.
Max answered, "I'm not sure there was anything to miss, Juliet. I didn't really know myself back then either. Not completely. But that's typical right? Starting senior year, still trying to figure out what we wanna be when we grow up…"
"Or who we want to be?"
"Right."
"Well, I mean, I guess what I'm asking is…you seem like you've changed quite a bit since then. More than just grown up, you know? You and Chloe started this company, what, six months after leaving Arcadia? Is…is that right?
"Yeah…um…" fuck. …less, but… wrong turn.
Max put on the brakes. Spun back to just after Juliet's original question. Thought for a sec.
Forward.
Max said, "I'm not sure I knew me either back then. Which isn't atypical for our late teens. But there were certainly catalysts that forced some hard growth. In the same week, I reunited with my best friend from childhood, learned that an idolized teacher was a murderous psychopath, and then half the town was killed by a freak storm. Trauma…"
Elliot jumped in, "I'm sorry - with respect, this all sounds like complete nonsense. You were kids. You're still kids. How did you start? Who invested in you? Where did the money come from? Who was your first…"
Nope… Rewind.
Jesus. Attack much? Okay, shit. This…isn't working.
Least I know your agenda now…
The two other big profile-type interviews she'd done, they tripped down this same path, and giving straight answers as though she was YoungMax inevitably led to more challenge and more aggressive lines of questioning. She'd muddled through after what seemed like days, but it was worse here because Juliet actually knew her as she was. And she was smart, so the simple answers really, honestly weren't going to be credible to her. And if Max played young, the contrast would continue to stand out to her co-worker, setting off a second set of alarm bells.
Fuck it. I'm too tired for the hours-long multi-rewind trip it's gonna take to get that even close to right…
She hoped it would go different with Juliet. Softer maybe. Different questions for sure. To be honest, she'd nearly forgotten all about the interview until yesterday. Which was terrible, cause she wanted to see her. Lot going on. But… they're here. Could still jump back and say no I guess, but… no… Have to do a better job steering is all.
Alright. Fine. Playing YoungMax was a mistake. Time for Juliet to meet NowMax I guess… The jump will confuse her, but won't give Elliot anything solid to grab onto. Fewer rewinds for sure… Really hate to do this to you Jules, but…well…there are levels of truth…
Approach decided, Max hit 'Play'.
Juliet thought this was a solid place to start. If Max could tell her story, they'd have gone a long way to nailing down some of the gaps - pieces missing from prior articles. At the very least, they'd have something original to work with.
She looks so much more present than I remember.
Speaking slowly, Max finally said, "I understand. I think, and it's been a while since I've tried to articulate this, so forgive me if I'm not completely eloquent first try. I think there are inflection points in all of our lives where external events help us realize how tragically, comically small we really are. Cast light on the triviality of our day to day issues and concerns. And remind us how fragile everything we truly value and depend on can be.
"And I guess how powerful we can all be at the same time. Individually and together. I won't try to speak for Chloe in her absence. But for me, the combination of reuniting with my best friend, Jefferson's betrayals of innocence in pursuit of innocence, the destruction of Arcadia Bay, these were all catalysts crashing together in time. There's a bright before and after line that coincides with that one week. Much of our time, Juliet, was on the far side of that line. All of this…is on the other."
Juliet nodded, jotted a few notes, but kept quiet. Give 'em space, and they'll expand to fill the silence…
Max continued, "So many things were destroyed. Lives, ideas, expectations of trust and safety. This illusion of power we all have. Any confidence in our own judgements about other people or events… Harsh lessons, too. The reality of choice and sacrifice and consequence. The limits of our control. But there were also affirmations. Confirmation that, even if we don't have control, we have influence. And there was also love and hope and joy and forgiveness and healing and discovery and this sort of wonder at life. It all collided then. Forced me to challenge my own assumptions about not only what was most important to me - but what elements of the future are truly within our ability to move or change. 'What if', you know? And examine my own motivations for doing so. Where are the tradeoffs? What roles can other people play? What role should I play? What future do I want? All of…this…is because…well, let's say that whole week was the first real seed."
Juliet captured a few notes, trailed off. "So, how then did that lead you to do something concrete? How did you get here? Can you go into that at all? It seems like such a huge leap for the average person."
Max nodded. Took a sip. "Too big a leap for us, for sure. You can't do something like this alone. But we all have a choice about how we use our time. Sometimes, putting ideas or thoughts out to the universe, things come back. Or maybe we're just better at noticing them when we're conscious of what we want. People, opportunities can line up.
"After all of that trauma, survivor's guilt they call it, you know…all we wanted was to make things better. Make it mean something. It took smarter people than us to give shape to what 'better' meant, specifically. So I feel like we've been very fortunate. This company is about other people, far more than it is about us. Inside and out. Everyone here existed somewhere else - but they were disconnected from each other. I think many of them were looking for someplace like this long before we knew we were.
"We met a few of them, early on, sketched the shape of things, borrowed their networks, and it's like gravity a little. A small group and an idea attracts a few more people, who draw in more and so on. Until you reach this sort of critical mass, where, you know…I think this is certainly so far beyond what we thought was likely or even possible.
"But we've done our best to keep it simple. My main focus has been working to convince more people that more problems belong in the 'solvable' column."
Quotable, but still not a complete answer… Skeptically, Juliet asked, "Don't take this the wrong way, but you know…generations of people have said these kinds of things before. Why do you think anyone listened to you?"
"I think they were looking for someone to tell them that it's okay, you know? To worry about the big things. To have the courage to try. And that's ongoing. We all influence the future, partly through what we do, and partly in the way we behave. Both influence other people. Positive or negative. Small things. These…" Max gently touched the butterflies tattooed on her arm, "are a reminder of that for me. Chaos theory. Butterfly wings to hurricanes. It's about how we brush up against each other. Which can be vastly more powerful as part of a chain reaction. How our attentions and intentions affect someone else in that moment, reinforcing or changing their immediate course, further affecting how they touch others and so on. Network effects. Everything - moods, road rage, kind acts, petty cruelties, patience, online rants, support, listening, indifference, love, hate, whatever.
"We, each of us, change the world every day. By adding or subtracting to other people, and changing their courses a little. We're all in these little bubbles, reacting to each other. Adding all of that up, collectively, we choose the shape of this world in a pretty direct way... But mostly unconsciously.
"We can choose better. More intentionally. And do more to take on the root causes of all of our troubles more directly. And these are the kinds of challenges - and real opportunity to make an impact - our friends and co-workers were drawn to. We didn't tell them anything new, but we believed in them. In a way, we all convinced each other it was possible.
"So, take all of that a step further, and apply it to earth more broadly. How we treat each other. What we fight over. The messes we make of each other's lives when we're fearful - what we take from the world, and what we leave behind. It helps to understand all of that, because a lot of our problems are structural, and related to very basic needs. Roots. People don't usually fight over food when they all have more than enough, with even more on the way. We've been fairly inconsiderate stewards of this rare planet we find ourselves on. And terribly unkind to each other historically.
"It's obvious to everyone there has to be a better way. But we can't take on the millions of symptoms. It doesn't scale. It's why a lot of our work is aimed at the underlying causes. Big hairy problems. Because if you can crack those, people have the space to take better care of each other - and these symptoms diminish substantially as a result."
Juliet joined a few lines on paper, attempting to wrap her head around it all. Distracted by the disconnect between her memories of Max and the reality of the woman sitting opposite her…
Before she could ask a follow-up, Elliot jumped in. "That's…those are…good answers. Too long maybe. And not answers to her questions exactly, but… Yours was a little more generic corporate bullshit idealism than I expected. Helping others, making the world better. Blah blah. PR spin. Doesn't sound unpracticed at all, for what it's worth. But let's say you believe it or whatever. That's your flag. I could buy that.
"But I've been in hundreds of executive interviews. None has stunned me quite like this. How does that…unsophisticated pablum so quickly decay into such a grotesquely hypocritical display of excess as we find ourselves meeting in today?" He waved a hand toward the indoor forest. "How can you be so completely tone deaf to your own message? Most successful people have maybe a lavish boardroom or they go to a conference room or their desk for this sort of thing. But you, you have a magical corporate play-forest in the sky, bigger than a football field. This is pure childhood indulgence. I'm in awe at the waste and vanity of it all…"
Juliet froze. Felt the color drain out of her face as the interview derailed before her eyes.
Are you fucking kidding me?
Chloe hovered over Emo, waited for him to climb up. Their little game of tag. Keeping him occupied while Max did her thing. And hopefully wearing him out so he'd sleep tonight.
He was quick for a kitten. Enhanced. Jumped a few feet up to the next branch, then the next. All strength, no weight. Still working on coordination.
She moved over to another tree. He hesitated, eyes dilated, butt wiggling. Made the leap. Like a flying squirrel with sharp claws, limb to limb. Caught, pulled himself up, chasing Chloe back to the next trunk. She zoomed around to the other side, out into open air, then dove for the underbrush far below. He hesitated again before dropping head-first to a series of lower beaches, eventually leaping straight to the ground, disappearing after Chloe through the rustling leaves…
Max was punchy from lack of sleep. Couldn't help but laugh at his line of attack. This was too good to rewind… "Man… I'm sorry for laughing. But…wow. Elliot, is it? You really are kindof up your own ass, aren't you?"
Juliet was straight-up deer in headlights. While his expression wavered somewhere between residual disgust and mild amusement.
Max leaned back slowly. Patiently, she said, "It's okay, rhetorical… I can pick through that biased mess to find the spirit of your question.
"Where you see a wasteful indoor luxury park in a towering glass monument in the desert, I see a testbed. All water here is recovered and recycled. The entire floor is tied into the building's heating and cooling cycles. The glass walls - designed to filter and control wavelengths of light for best nutritive growth and temperature. The building itself is constructed from sustainable meta-materials to take the structural load, runs entirely on clean fusion power. One of only fifteen in the world. All of them ours. Everyone's soon enough.
"This volume we're in is a scaled microcosm for some of the cylindrical orbital habitat designs we've been working on. In this room alone, we have eight varieties of trees, six types of grasses, five species of fish, a family of red squirrels, a mix of bushes, shrubs and ground cover, three beehives, millions of worms, spiders and insects, and ten subspecies of fungus and algae. Plus a few opportunistic volunteers that found their way in.
"Every plant you see has been extinct for more than twenty-thousand years. Some far longer. We printed their DNA, brought them back to life. Here. From fragments. And now we're testing growth rates, oxygenation, waste volumes, transgenic susceptibility, medicinal potential, carbon density and locking, disease resistance, compatibility with existing bio-forms, and the list goes on. Turns out, one of these species of tree sequesters 20% more carbon and produces 21% more oxygen than any of its living relatives.
"We're an applied sciences company, Mr. Portnoi. This 'display of excess' is one of our active laboratories.
"That it's also pretty is beside the point… But…since it can be both, why not? Good design, beauty have a measurable impact on happiness and well-being too. If some of us are going to live in environments like this off-world someday, we need to ensure that everything balances - that all of our needs are met. You maybe shouldn't be so quick to believe everything you think…"
Juliet choked a little, eyes darting between Elliot and Max.
He looked up, then down.
Back to her.
Exhaled. "Okay. Please forgive me, Mrs. Caulfield. I'm a cynic. And somewhat serially unimpressed by material symbols of success. I've seen firsthand how few people have anything to do with their own, and how often the results are…abused. I've misread."
Max leaned forward, elbow on the table, chin on her hand. "Let's move on." she offered graciously.
For the bulk of the interview, he was somewhat better behaved. Kept interrupting Juliet though. Tried to go back to their original investors or sources of funding a couple of times, but she rewound and redirected around those. He never got a chance to ask out loud in the final timeline. Beyond that, they covered a lot of ground in a wide-ranging Q&A, Max taking pains to bring most things back to the company and the mission and their employees.
Which wasn't hard, since she couldn't really reveal much about herself or Chloe that wouldn't immediately become the headline.
Although appending each answer in her head with '…and I also control time and space and junk, and Chloe is like super-hot.' helped get her through most of his grilling with a smile.
They were down to the last few minutes when questions circled back to her once again.
Elliot leaned forward, asked, "So I'm wondering - how do you respond to the wide variety of fringe content about you and your company on the Internet. I'm just curious if you keep up with any of that? Some is quite outlandish. Why do you think so many have focused on you in this way?"
"I really don't have an opinion." Max shrugged dismissively. "I, uh, have a distaste for sensationalism in general, so don't pay much attention to the echo chamber. I mean, look at literally any meme over the last few years - who can say why some notions catch and take on a life of their own? I'm not sure it has much of anything to do with us at this point, really. It's fun for people, and it's the internet, so what are you really going to do? Hasn't harmed us, but doesn't propel us forward either so, I don't personally take much interest."
Elliot nodded. "So we come full circle. You've so rarely given interviews. You must certainly feel the same way about the press then?"
"Well, 'the press' is such a broad term. There are so many aspects and exceptions and…so many smart people doing really important work - it's difficult to generalize in the US, much less globally. So much diversity. But more broadly, if we're talking about media culture in general, I think we're heading in an unhelpful direction. It's partly the structure. Outliers are what make news, and those are often bad. So what happens is that exceptional events are presented as the median when taken in aggregate. And the day to day norms and slow major movements of history in the background are too often missed. That dramatic over-amplification gives a really distorted picture of reality.
"It doesn't help us. The focus of most editorial isn't intended to provide a balanced view of the world. Which is unfortunately something we all need in order to understand the truth and make thoughtful, informed decisions about our lives and our futures together on this marble. Beyond. When all someone sees is sensationalized point events and negativity, two things happen. First, they become desensitized to actual threats. To the point where they can't distinguish real problems from hyped ones, or understand the relative scale or priority needed to assign an appropriate level of risk… As a result, they become overwhelmed, lose hope in any sense of personal agency or control over problems beyond arm's reach. Disengage, focus on the wrong things, or cede control to others completely, which is dangerously open to abuse. Then there's filter bubbles and us vs. them narratives and bias and chasing eyeballs and all the rest. Further dividing people. None of it benefits the world long term if we continue down this path.
"Our global problems are very real, mostly caused by us. We have to be part of the solutions. And those solutions can be complex - but they aren't beyond our capabilities to identify, understand and solve. We're a flawed but truly amazing species. Smart, social, creative. Earth should be a paradise, and we should be out among the stars by now. There's no reason we can't. But you never see that reflected in the media's presentation of reality. Goes back to what I said earlier about the way we add to or subtract from each other. Modern media culture hits a lot more people at once, so has an outsized influence. And maybe more responsibility to try to get the balance right."
He leaned back, "Maybe you should buy a media company then? If you're such an optimist in spite of us? Is that what you do here? The influence on your company's direction?"
"Yeah…I hadn't given that much thought, but…maybe we should. And I wouldn't be here if I wasn't an optimist. If I didn't believe in people, or the real potential of what we can all be or do. Or understand the horrors we can inflict when the worst in us rules. But, certainly it's easier for me to maintain that optimism, given my frame of reference. People around here back it up every single day. They actualize hope. That's been so incredible. If we've done anything right, it's been to listen and provide an operational support structure where the real experts and teams can meet, work and flourish. I think our direction is ultimately influenced by the needs of reality, and our people self-assemble around those.
"So rounding out your original question on the press, no, I don't personally give a lot of interviews. We're all mostly heads-down trying to solve the big problems. And ultimately I think what we do and how that affects people and the future matters a hell of a lot more than anything I could say to you about myself."
Juliet, still writing, appeared troubled.
Elliot brought it to a close. "Alright, I think that's all the time we need to take for now. Thank you. We'll be in touch with your PR team for the rest. I think we'd like to interview a few employees and maybe partners or customers if we might over the next week - phone or video is okay, and if we have any follow-up questions for you, may we reach out directly?"
"Probably through Jillian is best. My schedule's all over the place."
Like clockwork, the elevator dinged. Hank sauntered across the lawn to escort them back down.
Max wasn't sad to see Elliot go. Persistently unpleasant dude. Already heading to the elevator.
She gave Juliet a hug as they said their goodbyes.
"Max…I'm so sorry. This isn't how…"
"Oh, it's okay, Juliet. I figured it would go about like this. He's fine. And believe me, I've faced a lot worse. I just hope this helps you. Sincerely. That was the only reason I said yes."
"Okay… And thanks. Sorry. But it was great to see you. I'm…even more in awe of all of this after… Be in touch?"
"Yeah. Chloe and I both would love to catch up with you personally. Let's talk later on that?" Max gave her a final hug before Juliet left to catch up with the others. She really did want to invite her out for dinner tonight, but was so wicked tired. And Chloe was singularly focused on her machine. Another time. Maybe we could all meet up in New York in a few weeks. See a show, catch dinner?
She quickly replayed the last half hour in her head, seeing if there was anything obvious she'd fucked up, anything she'd want to quickly rewind to change before they got too far behind. Nothing stood out. Wasn't great, wasn't terrible. That half-hour interview had taken a couple of Max-hours, but it was still better than a full day. Could always spring back later if she needed to.
The elevator doors closed.
The sun was higher now, still warm.
Her eyes shut for a second.
And another…
So comfortable in here.
I have time for a quick nap.
She stretched, closed her eyes.
Stopped fighting.
A blanket of light warmed her skin.
She quickly floated off to sleep.
About four inches above the grass.
Juliet clicked a few steps into the bright lobby, half-turned to wait. She wanted more than anything to head back up, apologize again. Really catch up and hang out without all the bullshit. This didn't go how she wanted at all. It was supposed to be a fun little first interview. One of many, if she'd played it right. Build trust over time… Fucking Elliot…
In spite of the rough start he created, Max was far more thoughtful, eloquent and graceful under fire than Juliet would have ever thought possible. Jesus, she really did come out of her shell… Elegance. Gravitas. Intellect. Obviously her, but she's almost completely unrecognizable… which…makes even less sense?
Elliot caught up, brushed past her, continued through the crowd toward the exit.
Their escort trailed behind.
She rolled her eyes, went to follow.
"Excuse me, Ms. Watson. Before you go? A word?" She stopped, turned. Elliot looked back. Hank leaned around Juliet, shrugged at Elliot. "It's a…social thing… only need her for a sec."
Elliot kept walking.
Maybe I'll get a chance to…
"It's not a social thing." he said quietly. "Boss doesn't even know I'm talking to you. I only said that so he wouldn't stop. Is it just me, or does that guy seem, I don't know, a little grouchy?"
Juliet laughed. "Definitely not you. I only met him this morning and I'm already regretting it. What's this about then?"
"Before you go, I'll try to say something charming and funny. You'll try to laugh, we'll shake hands, where I'll pass you a small memory drive. I can't tell you what's on it. But it's very important that you keep it with you, and don't tell anyone you have it."
"What's this about? What's on it?"
"I just said…well, I can't, cause I honestly don't know. But it's important that you have it. Its encrypted, date-locked, so you won't be able to access it until it's time."
"You want me to hold onto it…I'm sorry - when is that then?"
"I don't have that information. I know this is confusing, and I'm sorry. I imagine you'll know. That's all I can say without making us stand here longer. Awkward, right? Like I said, the boss doesn't know, and we're on camera, so please don't get me in trouble?"
Now employees were passing her shit? Some sort of whistleblower, or…? Hesitant, she said, "Look, I'm not sure how I feel about this."
"Believe me, I understand. Same. Now laugh like I said something funny."
Juliet smiled, chuckled a little, unsure.
He smiled warmly, "Close enough. It was really lovely to meet you, please do come back again." She withdrew her hand; felt the drive he'd palmed off to her. Said goodbye, turned to follow Elliot. She slid the drive into her purse as she reached in for sunglasses.
Okay, seriously? What the hell?
Juliet pulled the door handle. Locked. He was inside, looking right fucking at her. Hands out, WTF dude?
He paused, then absently unlocked her door.
"What did he want? Did she invite you back later for dinner or something?" he asked as she took her seat.
"No… Actually…he, uh, asked me out on a date." she lied.
Elliot shrugged. "Inside source. Take one for the team?"
She shook her head, looked away, disgusted. Wasn't sure what she'd expected.
"How do you think that went?" Elliot asked neutrally.
"Oh, you don't want to know what I think." Juliet fumed. "No, but you know what? Fuck it. I'm gonna tell you anyway. Cause that was embarrassing. I was actually embarrassed. For me. For you. For her. You were rude, unnecessarily adversarial, you interrupted when she tried to answer questions, interrupted me like I wasn't even in the room, and generally behaved in a completely unprofessional manner. Blew any chance of coming back. You know, I don't even care if I get fired for saying this. She didn't have to meet with us. She didn't have an agenda. We asked her. I asked her. And that's how you treated her. Fuck. No wonder she doesn't talk to media…"
Elliot shifted a little. "Okay. That's a point of view. I have a different one if you'd like to hear it. Eh. Doesn't really matter - I'll tell you anyway. I'm the professional. Anything I do is in a professional manner, by definition. Stole that from Nick Offerman. I told you this morning how this would go and what I was going to do. I know you're new, but it's not my fault if you're not paying attention, kid.
"She expected me to take over the interview, and she was prepared for uncomfortable questions. So I pushed hard on a weak hand early, and I was just hoping she didn't end it right then. I didn't think she would with you there. But it gave her a chance to humble me in her eyes. To take a win. That's what I wanted. People are much more forthcoming when they feel they have the upper hand. It's when the egoists like to boast. The minute they think you're subordinate, that you work for them, or that you're in your place, you see who they really are. Like that old thing, when you go out on a date, watch how your partner treats the wait-staff… It's pretty accurate."
"You did it on purpose."
"Obviously. They were just trees - I didn't really give a shit. Everybody has a playbook. Taking people in positions of authority off their script is almost always hard. It's the job a lot of the time. Whole industries train these politicians and corporate execs to navigate interviews. What to say, how to say it, how to change the subject without looking like it, to stay in control of the meeting and the message. They practice. Hundreds of thousands of dollars of coaching are sitting between you and the truth. You have to learn your own ways around that. Or you can become a note taker. Just another mouthpiece echoing their manufactured talking points. If that's all you learn today, you're ahead of most."
"But…she's Max. You didn't have to do any of that… Not that way."
"I don't know. Set your anger at me aside for a sec. What was the actual content we took away from the interview? She didn't take the bait… And try as I might, she didn't leave me any space to ask her about early days, funding, anything. That's not accidental. Look, here's the issue I'm having with all of this. We went there to learn more about Max Caulfield. It's a goddamn profile piece, and we couldn't get her to talk about herself at all. At all. And then we left. How did we let that happen?"
"Is that unusual? Like, literally one minute ago, you lectured me about how trained and prepared and coached they are."
"Sure. Talking about customers, or financials or whatever crisis is happening. But ask them about themselves and you can't shut them up. It's one thing they all have in common. They LOVE to talk about themselves. What school they went to, how smart they are, who they know, how long their boat is, what kind of car they drive to work, what they do in their free time, all of it. There was a study a few years back. Sociopaths and narcissists are disproportionately drawn to these kinds of leadership positions."
"Max Caulfield isn't a sociopath. So she didn't talk about herself - I told you before she was pretty much a textbook introvert."
"Maybe. But look at the answers. Look at the diversions. Listen to what she didn't say. Check your notes and the tape. Every answer came back to 'why'. Not once did she answer 'how' or 'what'.
Juliet stretched her neck. "Yeah, okay, so…what now? Whatever. How do we take this forward?"
"I'm still trying to figure out which one of you two is full of shit."
Juliet, frustrated, "What?"
"Be honest. Did you really know her? Nothing you told me this morning makes any sense now that I've met her myself."
"Of course I did. I mean, she's obviously changed…but…"
"I'm hoping you were exaggerating. People don't become other people. Not that completely or quickly. Not without clinical brain trauma. And that usually goes in the other direction. It would have been easier for me if you hadn't briefed me at all. I would have taken her at face value and moved on. She reminded me, actually, of this British heiress I interviewed in Monaco a few years ago. Cambridge educated, mid-40's, everything about her was informed by this sort of air of benevolent aristocracy. Throw in a cross-section of futurist TED talks, and she wasn't so different from Max's performance today. Presentation layer, I mean. Educated, measured, visionary, patient to the point of indulgence. Even down to her movements. I'm confident that she's sincere about everything she said up there. And it's a bit of a problem for me, because despite my pushback in the room, there wasn't much I could find to disagree with."
"Wait, so you're pissed cause you went to all that trouble, and she is what she seems to be, and told you things you agreed with? There's a 'but' coming?"
"A big 'but'. It doesn't add up. I'm good, and we just got railroaded out of there. It's what we didn't get to ask. It's what she didn't say. There was impression, but no information. And what we have is contradictory. And the woman in there doesn't square at all with the girl you described. She's only your age, and it reinforces my gut feeling that something's off. You're one of the few people who knew her as you described her. Without that insight, I probably would have ignored that feeling. But… Makes less sense to me now than it did before.
"All the corporate materials, the web site, the only two interviews with her I could find, and we had her for half an hour ourselves - and we didn't learn a damn thing about her. It's right back to our prep talk this morning. What does she do there? Mechanically, I mean. What is her actual job? What's her value? Specialty? Where was Price? They're worth more zeroes than I can easily write across a napkin. But where does it come from? They're private, so we can't see the financials, but I talked to a few people before I left, and it seems like they give away more than they charge for. Anecdotal, but…okay. So MCCP day one - where does the seed capital come from? And how did they grow into this? Who's the first person they hired? What did they do all day in the beginning? Who was their first paying customer and what did they buy? Is anything they're selling real? Or is this whole thing a giant investor scam? Right? Is it just me?"
Juliet sighed. "As much as I hate to admit this... no. Our time in there didn't answer any of the questions we talked about this morning. I think her Q&A certainly promoted a vision. She has that down, and maybe that's her value... Plays shepherd to people doing the real work. But you're right. She never actually said anything concrete… Bugs me. And if I'm being honest, I'm not at all satisfied with that interview. There's a story here, and…well, we didn't get it."
"Okay. Me too. I'm at a loss to understand. And I'm not sure where to go from here yet."
"We talk to more people. Keep digging. Right? Keep asking questions. If she won't say, maybe someone else will. That's how this works? I hate this, because I like her, and…shit, what she's saying is inspirational in a way…but yeah. You're right. Something's still missing."
He stared out the front window. Finally said, "That's the right instinct." Started the car.
It was the closest thing to a maybe-compliment he'd said to her all day.
He added, "I have some outside sources who offered to talk. I didn't have time to connect with them en route, so that's one thing for me. But we'll see what we get out of the other interviews with insiders this week. Time to start digging."
Juliet nodded, absently traced the outline of the thumb drive in the side of her purse.
Chloe flew down from the treetops. Perched on the back of one of the white wire chairs, watching over Max.
The way the light passed through the silk, sending half-shadows and glows across her body… the slight parting of her lips with each breath… her expression so relaxed, peaceful in sleep…
Levitation thing was cool. Chloe flew under her a few times to see if she'd wake up, but she was out cold. Didn't even stir when Emo hopped up onto her belly, exhausted, stretching out lengthwise to fall asleep on her in the sun. Too fucking cute though.
She shifted focus. Back to where she was.
Bots and techs worked tightly together on the fabricator taking shape on the other side of the lab. Part of the first sphere and several of the articulating arms that would eventually be rolled out of this three-dimensional space into another level of 'otherwhere'. It wasn't nowhere but…it wasn't here exactly, either. Name came courtesy of the memory cube. Worked as an easy shorthand for any of the higher spaces beyond spaces.
She zoomed in to the microscopic. Nanobots tended the growth of the control system as much as they were aiding in its assembly… Synthetic organics. Some of them would go along for the ride - rebuild themselves in newly opened directions first. Most of the machine would be constructed on the other side anyway.
It would take exceptionally complex high-precision manipulations across six dimensions to undo the damage their future selves had done to the artifact in five, hopefully locking it back to the correct position in the end.
They were all just getting started.
Emo stretched. Curled halfway upside down, chin to the sky, reaching toward Max's face with tiny bean toes.
Chloe smiled as he snored a little. More than a little jealous.