Germination 2.2

Taylor

Sipping from my lukewarm coffee, I couldn't help but watch the trainwreck that was the argument taking place between my father and Jean. I despised the taste of the bitter black brew but it was providing me one of the few sources of energy that I was in desperate need of. Both to remain aware of the argument, but also to function in general.

The last week of hard work and preparation was finally bearing its fruits. While training was still underway, in three days, we would be ready to start the production line.

It was this reason alone that had drawn me out of my lab for this sit down. While I was technically listed as the CEO, in actuality, I was more the head of research and development. The only reason I was here was because it was from my head that we could even field the various pieces of technology. If anyone had solutions for what we were intending, it would be me.

Alas, the damn argument was over the focus of production. While all models of the Focus shared a large amount of parts, there were still core differences that had to be taken into account. We couldn't mix the different models on the same assembly line, and we didn't have enough assembly lines to field all models. And at this juncture, it would be wise to do so without contracts and demands.

The irony in all of this, however, was my father was arguing in favor of Hathor, the communications model, while Jean was arguing we needed to go with Ptah, a multipurpose model. How my father would argue against the model that would benefit workers like him, I would never know, but it was certainly something to behold.

Quietly taking another sip, I let them keep at it as I eagerly allowed the coffee to claw back the vestiges of my own exhaustion. The last few days had been nothing more than meetings, reviews, and training. Luckily, the training had been the least exhausting aspect of it all, as many of the people I was helping train knew me too well, and they knew to listen.

But the meetings? I wish I could do without them. I despised them. I could be working on finetuning my plans, but instead, I got to play referee to Jean and my father arguing like they were jilted lovers, which, fucking ew mind, thankfully they were not. I don't think I'd know what to do with that can of worms.

It was tedious, and if I wasn't actually getting some use out of them, I would probably have brought my foot down sooner. Why I was using their argument to work on my own plans honestly escaped me. I knew it was a good idea, only that I didn't know why it was a good idea.

Nonetheless, both of them raised good points on the viability of both plans. The only problem was this world didn't reward viability. It couldn't, not in the face of everything else. Finishing off the coffee, I placed the mug down on the table and reached out to find the charging case for my new Focus. Flipping it open, I retrieved the large triangular 'plate' that was easily three times the size of the Ptah and affixed it to right in front of my ear on the right side of my head. With a light tap, I allowed it to power up.

Unlike my first Focus, Sekhmet, as it was documented, was meant to be an entirely custom model meant only for me. It combined all of the aspects of all existing production models into a singular platform to provide me with the absolute best in terms of performance and utility for my work.

Unofficially, I named it something else, something more appropriate and private: Ash Nazg. Since, at the end of the day, it was the Focus equivalent of Tolkien's One Ring. It could do everything the others could and would forever only be mine.

My vision returned as it were, flooding and provided me with a much more detailed view than ever before. Whereas the Focus Zero could only provide me with what were essentially shaped blobs in blue-violet-magenta, the definition and detail was magnitudes superior. While still not a suitable replacement for normal eyes, I could now make out things like facial expressions, and sharp movements were no longer a blur. The range was also measured in the tens of meters instead of uncomfortably close.

But most importantly to it all, was the augmented reality overlay now in my vision. It was honestly the core game changer for everything she could do. No longer did I have to sit at a computer, but now I had the luxury of being able to move around and reference data, and be able to show it on a tablet to those in the field or shop.

"Enough," I said quietly, but firmly. I might as well have shot a gun in the room, as they both stopped and looked at me, "You both have good points, and in a perfect situation, we could probably do a mix of what you're suggesting."

I reached up so the Focus could detect it, and lightly tapped the icon for a folder that I had been working on for over a week now. I then slid the icon to the open 'port' and accessed the holographic projector that had been set up in the room. In a few moments, it then uploaded and displayed what I was seeing.

It was a report that I had compiled, specifically upon the next Endbringer slated to attack: Leviathan.

"Taylor," my father asked, and while I could not see it, I knew he was paling at the imagery of the devastation and data that I had put together for this, "What is this? Why are you-"

"I'd also like to know," Jean's voice was cooler, but I could tell she was not exactly happy with this deviation. I couldn't blame her, I was diverting time I could have put towards readying our initial push on this, at least in her opinion, "Just what is the point of this?"

"In thirty-six days, the window of attack for Leviathan is slated to open up," I started, knowing that I had to sell this to both of them, especially Jean, "It is known from past behavior patterns, that about forty-five days before he strikes, he always settles into a position roughly four to eight hours from the intended target. Considering his clocked speed runs around two hundred knots and his known location in the Laurentian Abyss, that places him within striking distance from Quebec City all the way down to Brunswick, Georgia."

I provided a map that showed the red of everywhere it could hit, which, honestly, was quite massive when you thought of the sheer landmass that was vulnerable. It also didn't take into account that Leviathan has been shown to have the capability to move inland, in the case of Lake Ijsellmeer in the Netherlands in 2005. It had completely destroyed the food supply by contaminating the lowlands with salt water in that tragedy. Luckily, there weren't as many viable targets for that strategy, and those that existed were outside of its preferred striking range.

"As much as I hate to say it, but this provides us with a marketing opportunity that cannot be ignored," I finally said, "Even with Mister Gabriel's help in cutting through the bureaucratic red tape necessary to field a new cellular device and requisite network connection, the fact of the matter is, if we want to really get out there, we need to have a major splash that cannot be ignored by anyone. Providing resources to an Endbringer fight, both before and after, is such an opportunity."

"Taylor, that's a rather dangerous mindset to have," my father spoke up after a moment, "I can see what you're getting at, and I do agree. However, the optics of it, I'm not sure if it's the right thing to do. Plus there is the logistics aspect of it. We won't even have the permits to assemble a cellular network to support the Focus network for another month. I know you want to hit the ground running, but we have to start local for this to work. Taking advantage of an Endbringer attack to sell a product is, honestly, bad optics."

His piece said, I turned my head to Jean, whose expression had not changed.

"I do not believe that would be the proper path forward. Yes, you are right that it's an opportunity, but it's an opportunity with far too many risks for what will likely be far too little gain. How many units were you thinking of having produced for this endeavor?"

"About two thousand Ptahs and a thousand Hathors."

While my father sharply inhaled at the figures, Jean's expression hardened as her eyes narrowed. It was evident that she had a problem with what I was suggesting. I knew that meeting those figures would be difficult in the time that we had. We would have to be running our production line non-stop for the entire month without interruption in order to meet that quota. It would be a prohibitively expensive prospect with the material and labor costs, but also the likely bottlenecks we would have to overcome, but it was doable. I had already run the numbers to know this.

Instead, to my own surprise, she shook her head.

"I will give you credit, you don't do anything by half, Taylor. I get why you want to do this, I honestly do. But we have to think about the company first. Right now, we're bleeding money and have no income. Which is fine for a venture capital startup, but it means we're already taking big risks. The last thing we need to be doing right now is stacking even more risks before our first round of sales. What you are planning is putting all our eggs into one basket in a make or break situation and anticipating that if you showcase this technology we'll be able to fast-track sales, but that's not how tech adoption works. Endbringer fights are messy, vicious things, and are not the sort of thing you want to introduce an entirely new system into, even if it's revolutionary, without proper training for all involved. If you rush it out like that, you'll end up killing more people than you would be helping. And we'll be the one paying the price."

I opened my mouth to rebut, but she held up a hand, stalling me.

"Let me finish, Taylor. Please. Your ideas and technology will change the world, don't let yourself think I don't recognize it, but it is also going to make you powerful enemies. They will take one look at what you are trying to do and they will recognize the clear and present danger that you present to their interests."

She paused for a moment, using the time to sip from her water.

"They won't hesitate to destroy you if given the opportunity, Taylor," she continued after placing the glass back on the table, "And setting our remaining cash reserves on fire to literally give away what the world will consider experimental equipment will not shortcut the adoption curb. It will just provide our enemies with the opportunity to strangle Zero Dawn in the cradle. I know you want to do this, but you have to remember it's no longer just you, Taylor. It's Zero Dawn Technologies. We are responsible for nearly four hundred people who are reliant upon you ensuring that they continue to have a good job with good pay and by extension their families. We have to make decisions grounded in what is best for the company. It's no longer a sprint anymore, you have the door open and the money to reach your dream, but you have to understand it has become a marathon and everything has to be weighed and measured to ensure you can go the distance. We cannot afford to spend our future on a hail mary or providing our enemies with the opportunity to lay a shadow on our products with such a blatant and dubious public relations scheme will only make their job easier."

I sat back in the chair, staring at the woman across from me. I certainly hadn't expected such a vociferous response, even if it was Jean. I had expected at least some pushback, it would be wrong not to, but this? This was far beyond what even I predicted.

I wanted to lash out at her, to throw her facts and figures in her face, but a quiet part of me held back the rest. I knew the numbers, front and back. It would cost nearly six million dollars to produce the units and supporting equipment. That didn't take into account the second half of what I had originally planned, which would probably run close to another two to three million. I knew that it would be successful, but I didn't have the evidence to support the notion.

But how would it be successful, the quiet part of me asked, and I found my frown deeping as I mentally reviewed my plans. Only this time, I added Jean's critique to it.

She was right. I was gambling, not because I wanted to, but because I hadto. The issue with everything was that I was trying to take what was essentially technology at least six decades in advance of what existed, and shoehorn it into a communications and logistics system that was held together by shoestrings. I had to force a rapid adoption if I had any chance of succeeding. Without the networks and logistics to support what she intended, then it would take far too long for me to get to where we needed.

But that was the point of this entire scenario. With this, I could create interest in the technology and show the promise and superiority to what existed, then make clear the needs to achieve this.

I paused in my thoughts, glancing over at my father who was quietly watching me. It seemed like he was in tacit agreement with what Jean had said. It was telling how much he was against it by allowing Jean's brutal takedown of my idea without an ounce of protest.

So if this was the wrong path to take, what was the right path? All of my machines needed an intact and powerful network in order to work efficiently. The current 3G networks would be like using phone modems for my technology, it could theoretically do it, but it would be the stuff of nightmares for any sensible engineer. Without the networks, they could run, as long as a nodal hub network existed, but then that created its own fucking problems.

But what was the solution here? We couldn't afford to wait too long to strike, the longer we waited the weaker we became. Jean was right, we were bleeding out, the only difference was the speed in which we exsanguinated.

I looked back to Jean, considering further. If she was so vocal in her opposition, it was highly likely she had her own ideas. The question I had to ask was how would her ideas expand our influence and power?

"What is your idea?" I finally asked.

It was minute, but it did not go without notice how Jean ever-so-slightly relaxed.

"Focus on increasing production capacity on advanced materials. With comparatively minimal machinery and advertising we can sell those to anyone and everyone. That will give us a solid reputation without stepping on too many toes. Well, excluding the biofuel which will cause an absolute storm in the oil and gas industry no matter what we do. More importantly, it will allow us to quickly produce a positive cashflow and solve our most pressing problems. Add to that the increased material demands for rebuilding after an Endbringer attack and we should be able to recoup a significant amount of our expenditures. Furthermore, by doing this, we will be able to expedite getting around the cash and parts bottlenecks for your own initiatives."

Honestly, I was somewhat disappointed by the idea. I mean, I knew what she was intending, and it was a decent plan. It just felt too conservative in my estimation. Sure, the materials we would be able to sell soon would quickly fill our coffers, but it honestly ran against both what I wanted and even the company name. It felt like we were grabbing for the lowest rung and just accepting it as our best.

Taking a deep breath, I then thought about what I could do. She was right, but I felt she was also wrong. She was looking solely at the business aspect, while I was looking at the futures aspect. We could sit here and peddle materials til our faces were blue, but it would not change the world. It may improve it, but that wasn't what I wanted.

I considered exactly what I could do, and the second part to my suggestion. Without the Focus network it could work, but I would have to attack it from a different angle. I'd have to scale it down, but I would also have to be present for most of the time in order to do it, because I would be wading into unknown waters.

But was it doable?

"I have a counteroffer," I finally spoke again, even as I reached up, the augmented reality feeding directly into my brain as I tapped an invisible menu. It opened up another set of folders, and then I fed them into the projector, the data for Leviathan fading away..

"We go with your plan on material productions. You're right, we do need the capital in order to survive, but just being able to produce advanced materials will not provide us the ability to flourish. Merely it would allow us to batten down the hatches and survive until we are ready to make a splash. That could take years, Jean, and I'm not sure that with the way things are going we can afford to take that time."

"What are you talking about, Taylor? You've already agreed that the Focus won't work," her father interjected, his confusion evident in his expression. However, I wasn't focusing my attention upon him, I knew with the right pressure I could get him to capitulate to my way. His expression suddenly changed as he began to put together what I was suggesting, "Wait…"

No, what mattered right now was Jean and her reaction.

"You're really going to do it," she half-asked, half-stated exasperatedly, "I thought you wanted to wait on this."

I shook my head, "You're right, Jean. I was looking at it from the wrong perspective. I wanted to make the splash to put the system together quickly, but that won't work if we don't have a necessary reason for the network to exist. We can siphon off some of the material production and a few of the molds and printers and it will not have a dramatic impact upon your idea."

"Taylor–," my father tried to say.

I ignored him as I reached with my hand to the AR display and 'slid' the file with my hand to the right, authorizing a command to send the file to the projectors and display it for all of us to see.

I had decided to keep their names, at least in my head. I knew that it was likely to change, as the public would likely wish to change their names or give them different descriptions. I knew that I wanted to, to move away from that disturbingly tribalistic manner in which they were named. But for internal reasons, I had given them this name, I would let public relations figure out what to do going forward.

ZDLM-001A Red Eye

ZDLM-002A Charger

ZDLM-003A Burrower

ZDLM-004A Scrapper

ZDLM-005T/CC Titan

The only name that I had deigned to change had been the Titan. Previously, my power had identified it as the Behemoth, but I was keen to avoid creating that kind of stir. Nothing good could come from naming a machine after one of the Endbringers.

Each letter had a meaning in the designation. In the case of ZDLM, it meant Zero Dawn Land Machine, with the number providing the chassis model number designation. The final part, the latter, in this case, denoted its designed role: A for Acquisition, T for Transport, and CC for Communications/Command.

The Titan, in this case, was a far different machine than the Behemoth chassis I had based it upon. It had been an exercise in alternative thinking and solutions that I had toyed with over a week ago. I had set it aside because it had rankled at my own feelings on the matter, it felt like I was admitting that I was going to fail setting up a network before I had even a chance.

At its core, the idea was to create a mobile command and control machine that could serve as a standalone node in regions where I may not have the ability to provide network coverage for machines.

A stripped-down Behemoth chassis that discarded its gravity manipulation technology, because frankly I did not see that tech being producible for at least another year or two (and even then I wanted to keep that extremely close to my chest) and other defensive systems could fulfill that role. The space saved could then be repurposed to mount the most advanced communications suite in the world and the transportation container could house the servers necessary to fulfill a command role.

It wasn't a perfect setup, it wouldn't have any of the defensive technologies a Tallneck had, and it was, quite honestly, a seat of the pants modification that just invited something to go wrong and, as a result, would require constant monitoring at first. It would also be the most difficult of the machines listed to put together in a month, but it could be done. Honestly, a small part of me had preened at the fact that I had designed the modification, as it was something quite different from simply being provided the information, even if the greater part of me had despised the admission that putting out the Focus first could be a failure.

Now it seemed that the exercise could pay off.

"Taylor, what is this?"

I glanced at my father, and I took the time to take in my fathers expression. While I could not see it, I knew he was likely pale at what was being displayed. I hadn't truly shared with him just how far my knowledge and skill went, but on the other hand, he had never truly asked the right questions.

Or maybe it was because I was afraid I knew exactly what his response would be if he truly knew, I thought sadly. My father was a decent, but flawed man, and despite his best efforts, and god I knew he was trying, he was a man in over his head. You took him beyond his comfort zone and he floundered. But what I was seeing was more than that.

What I was seeing was fear. I'd honestly never seen him so fearful in my life.

"It's the future," I finally said, unable to keep the sadness from my tone as I realized what I was seeing. I could never discard my father, I don't think I could live with myself if I did that. In spite of everything, he had been there for me when I desperately needed it, he had made sacrifices for me to get to this point. He could have drowned himself in his self-loathing and depression at the cruel world, but he didn't.

But I was legitimately afraid that I may not be the one making that choice. There was only so much that could be pushed before something had to give. And I was terribly afraid I was reaching that.

"Go on, Taylor," Jean spoke, cutting off whatever my father was going to say, and I took a deep breath and released it, trying to regain control of my nerves that left me feeling only a gnawing pit of despair in my gut...

Was this what Elizabet in my dreams felt when she had declared that the human race would be extinct in less than two years because of one colossal fuck up? No, I was trivializing something far worse than a guilty conscience and fear of something outside of my control, I thought with more than a hint of bitterness.

Still felt like absolute shit.

"What you are looking at is what I call a Light Rescue Lance, or LRL," I started, trying to keep the bile threatening to rise in my gorge as I kept my father in my vision, but to the side, various emotions warring on his face, "It is designed to go into disaster areas and provide search and rescue services at a higher efficiency and lesser asset distribution so more focus can be shifted elsewhere. It would consist of four Red Eyes, two Burrowers, a Scrapper, and a Charger. Each machine is designed to fulfill a role, Red Eyes with their sensor suites can detect people needing rescue, Burrowers to either dig out or reach victims, Scrapper to help in removing large debris, and the Charger serves as refueler for the other machines. The Titan will serve as a command and communications hub, since my original design template assumed that the necessary Focus network to link the machines into would already exist. By my estimation, with the materials we currently have, we can produce all nine of these machines in thirty-two days, with a cost running about one-point-two-six million dollars altogether."

The silence was deafening from both Jean and my father. I knew it was certainly not what they were expecting, nor do I think they expected the price for it to be so low. But Jean had done me a favor by bulk-purchasing most of the materials I would need to pull this off, with the various printers and molds, it was just a matter of changing what they had to do on the floor. As a result, the cost could be minimized to largely the cost of material that already is in stock, alongside the man-hours to complete the work.

What I wasn't expecting, however, was the way my dad's head snapped towards Jean in sudden dawning realization.

"You knew about this," he hissed angrily at her as he shot to his feet, hands curled into fists. I started to rise myself, as I knew that we were one step away from him truly losing himself to his anger.

"I thought you did," Jean responded, her expression perplexed as she looked between my father and myself. I knew she was putting together the truth of the matter, but if she said anything it could only incense him further.

"No," I spoke, cutting off the angry rebuttal about to leap from my father's lips, "I didn't. Please, Dad, sit down."

Jean looked between the two of us, as I was stared down by my father. I wish I knew what was going on in his head. I had a good inkling, because what I had done was a betrayal at least from his perspective.

"Maybe I should–."

"No, Jean. Please stay," I cut her off, keeping my stare straight on my father. I could only hope that he would sit down. Because I knew that if he stormed out right now, all of the progress we made between the two of us would be gone, likely never to be restored.

Maybe it was something on my expression, or maybe it was something else, but slowly, almost like a glacier moving, he lowered himself back into his seat. I released a breath I hadn't even realized I had been holding.

"I'm sorry, Dad," I began, trying to find the right words to express to him even an iota of the sincere guilt that I felt for all of this, I had been so occupied on whether or not I could achieve my objectives, that I never stopped to ask myself if I should. It was my own hubris that led to this.

"I know I should have told you this before," I continued, even as I struggled to find just exactly what to say, and when I couldn't find it, I sighed. There was no point in trying put it lightly, I had already kept the truth away from him for too long.

"Fuck it," I breathed, "the reason I haven't told you any of this is because I don't know how to explain it, Dad. I mean, how can I even start? Hey Dad, you know my Focus, yeah, that's not even the tip of the iceberg. The better question to ask me is what I can't create," I pointed towards my head, "When I told you I could change the world, it was not hyperbole, hell, if anything, I was underselling it all. I am a walking, talking, point of multiple technological singularities. You want to restore the Earth? Give me twenty years and I will turn the entirety of the Earth into a garden world that would make the Garden of Eden look like a backyard vanity project, and I wouldn't even be breaking a sweat. Reach the stars? You give me a decade and I can field ships that can reach Sirius in less than thirty years after their launch. What about nearly limitless power? That's a fucking Tuesday. You want functional imm-," I violently cut myself off, recognizing at what I had almost let slip.

Taking a deep breath I tried once again to collect myself, but frankly I felt only more frayed than I was before. Instead, I slowly lowered myself back in my chair, keeping Jean in my sidegaze even as I cast a considerable focus upon my father. I wondered if she had caught my little slip and just what she would think about it.

Honestly, my feelings were mixed on the idea of functional immortality. On one hand, it would quite possible allow humanity to flourish far beyond its current status, but on the other hand, the moralistic and sociological implications were the stuff of nightmares. It most certainly did not help that the origin of that knowledge stemmed from narcissistic sociopaths who had damned humanity in their greed.

Releasing the aforementioned breath, all of my energy seemed to escape me as I slumped in my chair. All I felt was the raw emotion beckoning to escape, as all of my private frustrations and personal reflections seemed to have finally found an exit vector. Unfortunately, it just had to be now.

"The reason I could never tell you," I continued finally after he had also slumped in his chair, cradling his head in his hands, "Is because I don't know where to start. I want to change the world, I know I have to change the world, but I have to also ensure that what I do will end in a net positive for humanity," I couldn't help but laugh bitterly, "The funny thing is that futurists really never tell you how exactly that a technological point of singularity is akin to playing God while dancing on a knife's edge. The only difference is I am fully aware of what fucking up looks like if something goes wrong, and I'm also burdened with the knowledge of what our society will look like if we don't start taking significant action within the next eight years."

I honestly wished I knew exactly what to say to reach out to him. I hated that we had to reach ahead in this manner. I wanted the Father that had been there with me since the day I lost my sight in what seemed a lifetime ago: An awkward, broken man who found the courage and energy to still try his best for his daughter.

Instead, the silence that greeted me only felt more oppressive, as slowly my father straightened himself back in his chair. Instead he said nothing for what seemed like an eternity.

"And what does that look like," Jean's soft voice took me away from my vigil upon my father as I turned towards her, her expression closed off. Maybe I had made a mistake in not clearing the room for the two of us, but it seemed like it was far too late for that. Or maybe it was right to air everything here and now, and let everything fall where they may.

"Twenty-three years. That's probably the most generous estimate I can give before the collective damage done to infrastructure, supply, and communications result in a complete collapse of modern society. After that, I give maybe another decade before the final collapse of the surviving feudalistically-inclined city-states. And then, depending on the operational tempo of the Endbringers and the resultant violence as resources become increasingly more scarce and fighting becomes even more fierce between roving bands, I give maybe another eight years before the human species will become functionally extinct."

The resultant silence was about what I expected. After all, just what would you expect if you a fifteen-year-old blind girl 'genius' declared that the human race would become functionally extinct before she was able to collect Social Security. I was not sure if I was going to be believed, but frankly, I had no idea exactly how I was supposed to connect with my father and explain to him why I needed to do this. If the LRL concept could gain traction, then I could fast-track other initiatives, like larger machines and even the Focus. "One of the most critical aspects of society was the ability to communicate and transport materials, and if I could prop up those two long enough, then the statistical probability of canceling the apocalypse increases."

Still, I felt like a doomsayer by even sharing this. I hadn't wanted to, but I wasn't going to hide the fact and what drove me in this case. Maybe it would change minds, maybe it wouldn't, but unless the information was out there, it was akin to handicapping the truth.

"I think we should all take a break," Jean finally spoke, being the first to collect herself. I couldn't bear to look at my father, not out of any spite, but because I honestly did not want to see his reaction. I feared that it may just break what tenuous link we still had if I did.

"I..think that would be wise," the respondent croak of my father's voice was enough for me to know that what I had said had hit home. But what was disconcerting was as I finally looked to him he wore the most blank expression I had ever seen. He had always been easy to read, but right now, I couldn't tell what he was thinking or even feeling, "We'll reconvene this afternoon, say around four?"

Both of them looked at me, and I merely offered a nod, "I agree."

AEH

Danny

How did I miss it, he thought to himself as he took a long pull from a chilled bottle of beer, allowing the sensation of the lager working its way to his digestive tract taking an edge off of already turbulent thoughts. The added scenery of the water of the Bay served as a balm for what were already wrought emotions he had thought he had buried.

He already knew the answer to the question, as much as he hated to admit it. He had chosen to ignore his growing suspicions because he didn't want to know the answer. No, that was an unfair summation, it wasn't that he didn't want to know, it's that he didn't know how he could handle it.

Taylor had always been an intelligent child, something that she had thankfully taken from her mother, but what had happened to her this year had only honed that edge into something more profound that he had become fearful of.

His daughter was just like Annette…No, that was wrong, he took a small sip from the bottle. He was being unfair to the both of them by making the comparison. And maybe that was why he was fearful, not just of his daughter, but for his daughter.

Setting the bottle down beside him, he let his legs hang over the edge of the dock, the quiet of the waves, the sound of the gulls providing the only necessary accompaniment to his maudlin thoughts.

Annette had understood her limitations. She had known when and where to draw the line, it was those instincts that saved her from the blowback against Lustrum. It was those instincts that had made her realize that she was ill-fitted to be an activist. She had been intelligent, yes, but she lacked the charisma and emotional detachment needed to be a good leader. So instead, she turned to what she could do best, instead of trying a direct route, she had fulfilled her want to change the system by cultivating students who could carry the torch that she could not.

He wasn't sure that his daughter even understood the concept of limitations. Even when suffering a setback she railed against it, seeking a new way to overcome the mountain. If she had to escalate, then so be it. All that mattered to her was the need to succeed.

Sighing, he picked up the bottle again, choosing to polish off the remainder of the dark liquid that was becoming warmer.

No, he knew that Taylor had been hiding something. He had helped raise her after all, but he also knew that pushing her would alienate and put at risk their relationship. They had been making strides, especially with things how they were, but you couldn't magically heal four years of neglect quickly. So, he had put his head in the sand, somehow convincing himself that whatever Taylor was hiding, she would eventually share with him, and they would both laugh at how trivial it really was.

The problem was that it certainly wasn't a fucking trivial secret.

'God, how could I have missed it so badly," he thought to himself, his hand tightening around the neck of the bottle as that familiar Hebert anger reared its ugly head.

He wasn't even sure where to begin in this morass. Taylor's rant about what she knew and could do was one thing with it's own bag of issues, but probably more terrifying was the fact that his daughter, at fifteen years old, had calculated the end of the human fucking race. He didn't know whether to laugh at the insanity of it, or sob at the knowledge that his daughter had knowingly spent time delving into such a depressing subject in order to augment an argument.

It was so quintessentially Annette it fucking hurt, he thought as a laugh burbled from his mouth.

He had been stupid, both in ignoring it, but also letting it build to this point. He couldn't excuse his actions or behaviors, and he certainly could not forget how vulnerable his daughter had looked when he had chosen to make his disagreement clear. How she was afraid of what he was going to say. It hurt.

But what was his disagreement? Hell, he didn't even fucking know, for fuck's sake. Yes, he was goddamn afraid, not of her, but fucking for her. How the fuck could he not express that to her? Hell, he couldn't even blame Jean in all of this, she hadn't realized that he hadn't known. How fucking humiliating was that? That the father and vice president was as much in the fucking dark as a goddamn intern at the wild ideas bouncing around in both his boss and his daughter's head.

Taylor was going to do what she felt was right. It didn't matter if it went against conventional thinking or against the grain of some other fucking thing, she'd do it and to hell with anyone else. The fact that she had been willing to even listen to others for their opinion was a miracle in and of itself, Annette could never have fucking done that if it was one of her darling subjects.

Just where could he stand in all of this, for that matter? How could he even fucking convey how he was afraid for her? She had made it abundantly clear that these machines she had revealed were only the beginning. Just how far did that fucking go? And just how long could she continue this before eventually she ran into resistance?

He sighed as it finally clicked into place.

Lustrum. That's why he was so up in arms. It was Lustrum all fucking over again.

He hadn't been part of it, for obvious reasons, but Annette had never shied away from telling him what had gone on during her time with them. At least until Taylor was born, after that, they had both agreed to not discuss it around her. It wasn't a matter of shame as even he had understood why Lustrum had taken a stance, but it had been something they just believed should be left in the past as it would create inconvenient questions.

But at the core of it, Lustrum had pushed too far, too fast, and when they failed to get the recognition and momentum that she wanted to affect change, they became violent. It was a tale as old as time for any activist group that could not achieve relevance. The only difference between them had been Lustrum herself, The Protectorate and PRT had decided to make an example of her and threw her in the Birdcage, because she had ceased being an irritant to powers-that-be, and had become a problem.

This was the same path Taylor was going down. Jean was right, right now, Zero Dawn, and by extension, Taylor, were unknowns. Sure, they got a few articles written about how a Tinker was receiving a rather large investment, but other than that, she was not even a footnote to those who wielded power.

But if she did this, it most certainly would create an interest. In the end, it inevitably wouldn't matter how much good she was doing, those zealous in the retention of their power and wealth would recognize that Taylor was a problem, and they would render upon her what they had previously done to Lustrum.

It didn't matter if the machines she produced saved hundreds, or even thousands, of people. It didn't matter if her machines were innocuous and cute. It didn't matter if what she could offer to the world could turn back all of the setbacks to society. All it would take was one incident, one misstep, and they would have their cause célèbre to eliminate the problem and return back to their cherished status quo. The less said about those who would attempt to worm their way into her graces in order to 'guide' her the better.

"Fuck," he breathed. He knew exactly how that would go, unlike Annette, who would relent if she felt it was not worth it, Taylor couldn't, and quite honestly, if she had the choice, she wouldn't either. She was a woman on a mission, she knew exactly what would result if she did not succeed.

It was going to be a war, and frankly, that was honestly the most terrifying aspect of all of this. He wasn't sure exactly how it would go down, but he knew that his daughter would not yield as long as she had willingness to fight.

Which led all the way back to what she was hiding from him. He couldn't help her if he didn't know, but he wasn't sure if she would be at all willing to even talk to him after what had happened.

No, there was a way. But it was an option just as unpalatable as doing nothing. No, he was being unfair, it was unpalatable, but it did not compare to the idea of losing his fucking daughter over a goddamn disagreement.

He had no choice, did he? If he did this, he would be providing the fuse to start all of this, regardless of whether he wanted to or not. The only way he could even attempt to restore something between them was to support her, even if it would put her into the very danger he feared would consume her.

Could he do it? That he wasn't sure of. No, that was a damnable lie, he just didn't want to fucking admit it and be responsible for it. Maybe he could try and talk some sense into his daughter, but there was a better chance of hell freezing over and the Cubs winning the World Series than being able to change his daughter's course.

Before that, it'd probably be prudent to at least talk to Jane before the meeting. Maybe she had an idea of what could be done. He also didn't think that she would serve as an obstacle either, he had seen the interest lurking in her gaze. But, it wouldn't hurt to even try.

He was ripped from his thoughts by his phone going off, causing him to reach into his pocket and retrieve it. He had the device, but he had no choice but to have it because of his position and role. Frowning over Kurt's name on the caller ID, he flipped it open.

"Yeah?"

"Danny, you need to get back here. The PRT, Protectorate, Police, and fucking CPS just all walked in."