“This is Andrea Walker, who joined the dev team three weeks ago. It’s her app we’re looking to purchase, so I’ll let her introduce it,” Lex explains, stepping to the side once he’s done.
God, I hate this. Unsure what to say, I scowl at the man who just threw me under the bus. All I get in return is a firm nod, spurring me on.
“Hi,” I say with a weird hand wave, my voice shaky. “So, I’ve created the equivalent of a voice recognition software but for sign language. The app is meant to be convenient and educational, as people will pick up a few tricks when interacting with deaf and hard of hearing interlocutors. I’ve also been working on implementing AI voices into the mix, and the idea is that each user can have a voice that is uniquely theirs.”
I could speak about this project for three hours straight, but I doubt everyone wants to listen to technicalities. So, I keep it as short and concise as I can, focusing on the few people I know to keep my social anxiety at bay.
As soon as I’m done, Alexander takes the lead again. “I want this developed and expanded to its maximum potential. By next year, I want this app in every administrative building, museum, school, college… This will set the standard; we’ll make it mandatory, a basic requirement for state-run facilities, and a necessary tool for private sectors as well.”
The more he talks, the stupider I feel. I worked on this so my brother could get laid—not that he needs any help with that. And Alexander fucking Coleman is already fifty steps ahead of me, seeing the big picture I was too dumb to fathom.
The government is always trying to include disabled minorities, or at least they pretend to. It isn’t so far-fetched that they would invest in such a tool so deaf and hard of hearing kids can blend in more easily in their schools, patients can communicate in hospitals, as well as visitors in administrative buildings… And the same applies to the private sector.
Even if the app doesn’t sell well with civilians, which I doubt, all those facilities would still make Kelex’s investment very lucrative.
I watch as Lex shares his objectives and prognostics. As always when his brain is in action, I feel myself slowly slip into naughty thoughts. But as soon as I realize it, I return my attention to the crowd. There’s no way I’ll be caught drooling over him by all those people.
With mild amusement, I note that most women are drinking in his words with way too much enthusiasm. The man is a snack and a half, and I’m definitely not the only one to have noticed. In the corner of my eye, I see him pass a hand through his hair, and two women bite their bottom lips.
As someone who gets wet whenever he uses a polysyllabic word or puts on his glasses, I can’t even blame them.
When the meeting ends ten minutes later, Lex dismisses everyone but a few so he can explain what’s expected from us with this change of plans. Consumer trials, marketing, early design, and programming are distributed among us. Kevin is also present, supervising everything and weighing in on the decisions being made. Everyone has until the end of the week to finish what they’re working on or pass it to someone else. On the other end, Lex and I will start working on it immediately.
Brainstorming takes us the entire morning, and lunch break with the nerds leads to more talking about my app. Then, I begrudgingly head upstairs to my temporary shared office.
Lex is already working, which I anticipated. What I didn’t expect, though, is the setup. There isn’t a desk in a corner with my stuff. My computer is on the formerly empty half of his desk, facing the other way from his. I’m meant to sit diagonally to him, barely four feet away from his distracting presence.
My productivity will be shit. Utter and complete shit.
I drag my feet toward my new chair, thinking this looks like some reality TV show from hell. Lex doesn’t look up from his screen yet, and I don’t know if I like that or not. As I get closer, I notice documents lying across my keyboard.
“This is the contract you requested,” he says when I pick it up, still focused on his screen, his glasses reflecting its light.
“Oh, right.”
“Optimally, you need to sign all three copies before the day ends. Take your time reading it and tell me if you need changes to be made. I ensured your interests were protected as much as ours.”
“I appreciate that, thanks.”
Because it’s further from him and feels like a beacon of tranquility, I grab the documents and sit on the sofa to read them. I regret that a little when I sit. Crap, I forgot how rigid it is—as rigid as its owner.
As suspected, it’s all very boring to read. By the time I flip to the second page, the uncomfortable couch is becoming a problem. From there, I regularly twist and wriggle, trying to find a better position. I find it as I start the fifth page. If my abuela found me like this, she’d definitely tell me to sit straight and stop being sprawled like some sea animal washed ashore.
Reading the whole thing drains me, but I’m glad I do. A couple of clauses are a little confusing, but it’s nothing important. The contract really protects me as much as them.
“Was everything clear?” Alexander asks when I come back.
“Yes, I suppose. Just a couple of sentences I didn’t really get.”
“If you want me to clarify things, don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Have you read it?”
“I was the one sending memos to the lawyers all weekend,” he explains after typing something on his keyboard. “I read it several times, and I assure you nothing could harm you.”
I’m under the impression that Alexander Coleman isn’t a liar. He may be chauvinistic, haughty, cold, and arrogant, but I’m almost sure he wouldn’t lie.
So, with confidence, I sign everywhere I’m meant to. Once done, I tilt to the side and hand the papers to Lex.
