By version 4.0, I could tell you what Ruby had for breakfast based on her micro-expressions alone.
“She’s a liability,” Hamilton had insisted. “We need to know her movements.”
I sigh and rub my temples.
The surveillance system pings softly, facial recognition confirming Ruby’s identity for the thirty-seventh time today.
Thirty-seven.
“Alert: Target Subject Wolf-Ruby-One present on secure floor. Alert: Target Subject shows distress indicators. Alert: Target Subject in restricted area.”
“Mute alerts,” I mutter, and the system obediently goes silent, still flashing its warnings across my screen. The cameras continue their silent vigil, cataloging Ruby’s movements from every angle.
I should feel creepy about this level of monitoring, but honestly, it’s become routine. Hamilton has me tracking half the predator population of Shiftown.
But I’m also not an idiot.
My brother doesn’t invest millions in surveillance tech for business purposes alone.
He’s obsessed with her.
Has been since she rejected him that first time at the zoning board meeting.
Hamilton Porkwell doesn’t get rejected.
It broke his brain.
On my central monitor, Ruby pushes her hands through her hair, taking deep breaths. The audio feed picks up fragments of her self-talk.
“Stupid, stupid wolf… What were you thinking?… His scent is all over you now…”
I probably shouldn’t be listening. But that’s my job—knowing things. Information is how I contribute to Porkwell Development while my brothers handle the more public-facing roles. Percy designs stunning buildings, Hamilton closes impossible deals, and I… head up our tech division, ensuring they have every advantage technology can provide.
I pull up the log files from earlier today.
Yep, there it is.
Camera 17-B, stairwell between floors 21 and 20. Motion sensors activated, facial recognition confirmed: Hamilton Porkwell and Ruby Wolfhart. Audio sensors picked up… well, exactly what you’d expect when a wolf and a pig who supposedly hate each other find themselves alone in a stairwell.
I shut that file before the sound can play.
Some things a brother doesn’t need to hear, especially when it involves Hamilton in full rut.
Been there, heard that, have the therapy bills to prove it.
The surveillance system is just one of my contributions to Porkwell Tech. Most people don’t realize that half the “smart city” infrastructure in Shiftown runs on my algorithms. The traffic light system that adjusts for different species’ walking speeds during rush hour?
Mine.
The water conservation grid that reduced consumption by 30% last year?
Also mine.
The emergency response system that can distinguish between a fox shifter’s playful yip and a legitimate cry for help? That took two years of acoustic analysis and machine learning.
The system has also helpfully cataloged Ruby’s visit to our penthouse last week, specifically Percy’s and Hamilton’s bedrooms. The latter featuring a hilarious display of Ruby marking Ham’s bed with her scent.
What I can’t understand is why Hamilton is so fixated on Wolfstone. It’s not even in our priority development queue. The tech campus on the north side would generate four times the revenue with half the environmental complication.
