He cocks his head. “What’d you imagine?”
“I don’t know. I guess I thought you’d have on your normal suit and drive something sleek and flashy, like an Aston Martin or Jaguar.”
One corner of his mouth lifts. He slips his sunglasses back into place and presses a key fob. Across the lot, the headlights of a silver Honda Accord flash. “For the record, I wear more casual clothing to site visits because they can be messy. And Idoown a Jaguar F-Type. I just prefer my bike.” He gestures toward the car. “Since today is a work visit, though, we’re taking the company Honda so we can expense the gas and mileage.”
I blink at the Accord, then back at him. “After the motorcycle-and-sunglasses entrance,” I say carefully, “this feels wildly anticlimactic.”
We cross the lot and slide into the car. After he adjusts the mirrors and checks his blind spot, we drive out onto the road. His sunglasses catch the early morning light as he glances at me. “This your first field visit?”
“Yes,” I admit.
“I trust you’ve read the project briefs.”
“Of course,” I say. “We’ll be reviewing the track installation for Medusa’s Fury and the staging area for the launch system.”
Theo gives a single nod, hands steady on the wheel. “Correct. It’s slated to be the tallest multi-launch coaster in the South.”
“I do have a question for you. Why are we doing the site visit on a Saturday?”
“Because it’s the only window we can walk the site without any major construction work going on or guests getting in the way, since the park doesn’t open until ten.”
“Oh, that makes sense.”
His lips twitch. “When we get there, the important thing is to not let the spectacle or scale of the build distract you. Our job is to review the attraction in close detail.”
“Like the track alignment.”
“Precisely.”
Because I’m an overachiever and I want him to know I did my homework, I add, “It was in your notes. Lateral misalignment amplifies vibration, especially through the high-G launch sections. It’s subtle at first, but it compounds over time until the hardware literally shakes itself apart.”
“Yes. And what else did I have in there?” His voice is even. He’s testing me.
I unlock my mental file cabinet, scrolling through the digital pages of the Medusa’s Fury brief. There was something else—something more personal than just physics. “You voiced concerns that the construction team was being... lackadaisical.”
Theo’s jaw ticks. “That was the polite version for the official report. What I meant was inattentive. In this industry, cutting corners doesn’t just lead to delays; it leads to accidents.”
“I understand.” I sit a little straighter. “It’s the same thing you told me during my first week when we, er, discussed my stressanalysis.”
“I’m not sure if ‘discussed’ is the right word here, but yes. Go on,” he says.
I watch palm trees blur past as we merge onto the highway. “I was making my calculations based on perfect conditions. I didn’t leave any room for the human factor.”
“Based on that, what does that mean for today?” He nods toward the horizon, where the cranes and the steel skeleton of Medusa’s Fury are beginning to loom.
“It means while we’re out here in the real world, I need to be more concerned with what’s in front of me. I’m looking for any human error that the software couldn’t predict.”
“Good.” His gaze flicks toward me before returning to the road. “I’m glad you were listening.”
“I’m not here to make the same mistake twice,” I say, quieter than I intend.
The highway dips, and the construction site spreads out before us. Loops of track hang suspended midair. Cranes are locked in place, and job trailers are lined up like toy blocks. Even from here, I can see the crew swarming the base of the structure, tiny figures moving against the massive frame. This coaster is going to be the largest yet at Tampa’s Boysenberry Farms Park.
A thrill shoots through me, sharp and electric. This is my dream coming to life. I’m not in a classroom anymore, and I’m not stuck in the office staring at numbers and models on a screen. I’m actually here, seeing the things the team and I have created taking shape in the real world, which still feels weird to even think, let alone say.
Theo slows the car and flashes his ID at the security guard before we’re waved through the gate to Boysenberry Farms. He parks near the front, kills the engine, and finally turns to me. “Ready?”
I can’tfind the words. All I can do is bob my head up and down, like an eager puppy.
