Even Jacob.
CHAPTER FIVE
ON MY WAY up from the FPMP parking garage the next morning, a text came in from Bethany.Join me on the mat today, I found you some answers.
She didn’t need to ask me twice. The more I stalled out on level 18, the harder I crashed and burned. I sent a quick text to Carl that I’d be late—delivery failed like it occasionally did in the elevator, but he was a smart guy, he’d figure it out. Besides, he always seemed to keep himself busy when I wasn’t around.
Bethany gave me a nod of approval when I walked into the yoga studio, and I couldn’t help but feel a little proud of myself for showing up.
There were a few extra people there, a couple of new faces, but that wasn’t unusual. I tried to focus on my breathing and the movements, but my mind kept wandering back to level 18. I was so lost in thought that I almost didn’t register the session was done when Bethany came and tapped me on the shoulder.
“Victor,” she said, “I’d like you to meet someone.” Bethany gestured to a woman with a mop of white hair barely constrained by an alligator clip, bare feet, and glasses. She was a generation older than me, but clearly fit enough to unfold from a triangle pose without moaning and groaning anywhere near as much as I did. “This is Dr. Hall from R&D.”
The woman smiled warmly and extended her hand. “Please…I’m not nearly that formal. Call me Evelyn.”
Bethany looked particularly happy with herself. “If anyone can help you with your app, it’s Evelyn.”
I was already cringing over the fact that one of my colleagues had been called away from her desk to help me conquer a goldfish. “You really shouldn’t have bothered. Y’know how it is with updates. The minute you get the lay of the land, someone reinvents the wheel.”
Not sure what sort of metaphor I’d been aiming at, but Evelyn got the gist. “You seem anxious—but don’t worry about me! I’d love to hear exactly what you think. Fair warning: I’m an empath.”
Normally, thanks to the badges we all kept visible on our lapels, everyone in the building knew everyone else’s level and talent. But since our IDs were hanging by the door off our blazers and sportcoats, it was awfully transparent of her to lead with that.
“Medium five,” I said. That was my official level, anyhow, though anyone who worked closely with me probably suspected it was a lot higher. I always downplayed as best I could. Given National’s propensity to “recruit” psychic overachievers, it was in my best interest to keep my mouth shut.
“So, what’s going on with the app?” Evelyn asked.
“I feel ridiculous even saying this out loud….”
I may be no empath, but I can tell when someone is just humoring me. Evelyn seemed genuinely interested in how I was using the game. I showed her a screenshot I’d accidentally taken sometime prior to the update. I explained how the alpha wavesmade it easier to focus on my extrasensory impressions. And I managed to keep myself from resorting to any unprofessional language when I walked her through the sticking point at level 18.
“A grown man,” I concluded. “Shown up by a goldfish.”
“Don’t underestimate the importance of play. It’s a lot more beneficial for cognitive function than beating yourself up, that’s for sure. But I’m with you on the new mascot. It’s just a gimmick to boost engagement metrics rather than actually improving the user experience. The original intent of the app was to guide users into the optimal brainwave patterns for focus and emotional balance. But it sounds like you’ve taken it a step further, using those alpha waves to sharpen your psychic perceptions. That’s a fascinating use case I hadn’t considered.”
“Why would you have…considered it?”
Evelyn’s eyes sparkled. “Because I’m the app’s creator!”
I scrambled to recall just how insulting I’d been as I bitched out level 18. “Look, it’s a great little game—I wouldn’t keep coming back to it if it wasn’t—“
“Relax, Agent. No need to feel awkward. Yes, my research was behind the original app, but I sold the intellectual property to a commercial developer ages ago. The Blip character has nothing to do with me.”
“That’s...actually a huge relief.” I let out a cautious breath. “Thanks for not taking offense at my goldfish-related frustrations.”
Bethany chimed in, “It’s natural to vent. I’m just glad I could help.”
“I figured you might know something,” I told her, “but I never expected you to track down the actual creator. That’s way above and beyond.”
Bethany seemed especially pleased with herself as she stepped into her sandals.
I said, “And what were the chances the app’s inventor was down the hall from me this entire time?”
Both women looked puzzled.
Then Bethany said, “R&D isn’t in Chicago.”
Evelyn pulled on her suit jacket. The F-Pimp badge dangling from her lapel marked her as Empath 3. “But it’s a quick enough flight from Dulles.”
