A GORGEOUS, MYSTERIOUS STRANGER
BRYS
I pinch the bridge of my nose, wincing at the sharp throb of pain lancing through my skull just behind my eyes. Blue blocking glasses dangling from my hand, I tune out the endless, divisive nattering of the board as they debate the pros and cons of our vice chairman's latest batshit crazy acquisition proposal.
I know he's my brother, but he's a real dumbass.
"Do you have any thoughts, Ms. Bennett?" Chairman Carmichael's voice cuts through the hubbub of cross-chatter.
"Yes, in point of fact, I do." I toss my frames on the table in front of me with a clatter, pinning a glare on my useless, nepo-hire brother before scanning the now-silent members of my board. "It's a ridiculous notion. That we have spent any time or thought even debating it at all should annoy each of you as it does me. We are, primarily, a telecom R&D company. I am quite well aware of the developments in the AI sector, of course, but that's a Wild West shitshow. It's a circle jerk. Why my brother would evensuggestwe invest in an AI company is a mystery to me, let alone a startup with next to no capital, No VCs or angel investors behind them, and a product that only exists in theory…It's boneheaded, even for you, Bryan."
My brother flushes scarlet in a combination of rage and embarrassment—his usual state of being. "Dammit, Brys," he snaps, pronouncing my nameBREEZE. "You don't have to be a bitch about it. It was just an idea. Jesus."
I let my gaze go icy. "You may leave now, Bryan. Thank you."
"But I—"
"You are here as a courtesy, Bryan. If Father's will had notforcedmy hand, you would not be here. Bennett Development, Incorporated ismycompany. I am the CEO.Iam the one with degrees from Yale and MIT.Iam the one who was interning here before I got my first period." Several of the old white male board members shift uncomfortably at my statement, and I glare at them. "Oh dear god, get over it, you crusty old dinosaurs. Women have periods and I, in case you had not noticed, am a woman. You will not burst into flames at the mention of my having menses." I return my gaze to my brother. "Bryan, youwill notdisrespect me in my own boardroom. You will not curse at me. You will not speak to me with such familiarity and informality in this setting. Here, I am not your sister. Here, Bryan, I am the CEO and president of the company you, nominally speaking, work for—as ajuniorboard member. Furthermore, and most importantly, you will not waste this body's time with cockamamie proposals which have less than zero merit, even if wewereinterested in investing in AI—which we are not, and likely never will be. If you wish to invest in…" I put my glasses back on as I hunt for the name of the company in my notes—they're blue blockers and readers; I'm only thirty-six, but a lifetime spent peering and squinting at computer screens has left its mark on my vision already. I find the name and look up at Bryan again. “Acheron AI, Limited…then be my guest. With your own money, on your own time. Are we clear?"
Bryan, seething, only nods.
I arch an eyebrow at him. "You may go."
He shoots to his feet, sending his rolling chair rocketing backward so hard it dents the wall, and storms out, muttering who knows what under his breath.
When he's gone, I let out a breath and toss my glasses down once more. "Now. Do we have any otherseriousbusiness to discuss before we bring our investors on screen?"
No one does, so I wave at Jeremiah, our techie; he begins looping in the investors and putting the teleconference on the main screen.
Several hours later,I kick the door to my office closed behind me, sighing in relief as I step out of my heels and shuck my blazer. Collapsing heavily into my chair, I cover my eyes with one hand and address the ceiling. "Coactum—reduce lights by sixty percent."Coh-ACT-um.
Coactum is the AI system—ironically enough—that operates the lighting, security, energy usage, phones, and networking in this building. It's overseen by a team of humans; it's a collaborative effort with another R&D company, and we're their guinea pigs for the office management system—no monetary investment involved.
At my command, the lights in my office dim to a dull orange glow that's much easier on my eyes, and the nascent migraine I feel percolating in my brain.
"Coactum—play music. Classical. Debussy. Volume thirty percent."
The name of the system, Coactum, is a Latin word with multiple possible meanings, all of them variations on "bring together."
The soft, soothing opening of "Clair de Lune" floats through the office, and I turn my chair away from the door to face the windows, which overlook downtown Manhattan. It's the golden hour, when the sun shines a perfect shade of gold that bathes the world in light. I wish I was out there. In Central Park, perhaps. Sitting on a bench, watching couples lounge in the grass and toss Frisbees and stroll the paths.
Yet here I am, at six o'clock on a Friday, with hours of work yet to do.
My phone burbles with an incoming call. "Coactum, identify caller."
In my office, Coactum's voice is male, with a crisp British accent. Obviously. "Charles…Edwin…Danforth…the Third," Coactum announces, his voice stilted and awkward. He's better at listening than speaking, so far. I make a mental note to have the team at Vector Technologies focus on improving Coactum's speech capabilities.
I hiss in irritation at the announcement. "Dammit, dammit, dammit," I snap under my breath. "Coactum, answer. Handset only, on speaker.”
My phone chirps twice, and then I hear my ex's voice. "Brys, good evening. How are you, darling?” I tried to get Charles to be the voice of Coactum, as he has the most gloriously archetypal upper-crust British accent you've ever heard, but he wouldn't go for it.
"Exhausted, fighting a bitch of a migraine, and buried in work. What do you want, Charles?"
"My date canceled last minute for a performance of La Boheme at The Met this evening. I'd hoped you would be agreeable to filling in. Drinks before around the block, and dinner after. My dime, of course. Strictly business, I assure you."
"I really can't, Charles. I've been here since seven this morning and if I get home before midnight, I'll feel lucky."
He clucks at me in that teasing, scolding way of his, when he knows damn well that I've been burning the candle at both ends for too long. "Brys, darling. When was the last time you stopped working for more than a few hours of sleep? Have you evenseenthe sun this week?"
