Chapter 10
TEN
I’ve got this.
My heart thumps a frantic rhythm against my ribcage. It’s like I’m about to step into the headmaster’s office, not my colleagues’ workspace.
It’s just a meeting, Amelia.
You’ve done this a thousand times.
I’m wearing a light blue business blouse and lightweight pants, which now feel rather ridiculous. Typically, I would have opted for my usual jeans and sweater, but no, I wanted to present a professional image. I dressed up in the hope that they would see me as such.
I am a bloody professional, dammit.
Dithering in front of the door, I’m trying to summon the courage to knock when it swings open.
Misha’s there, his grin as wide and disarming as ever. “Why did I know you’re lurking out here,” he teases, pulling the door wider. “Come on in, Doctor.”
Fuck, this is embarrassing.
Hesitantly, I step inside, and my eyes immediately widen.
Their office is a far cry from Hendricks’ and mine, with its sprawling size and sleek design.
The back wall is entirely glass, offering a panoramic view of the neighboring skyscrapers that bathe the room in natural light.
Three large desks with state-of-the-art screens are arranged facing each other on the right.
To the left, there’s a meeting room, separated from the rest of the office by a glass wall, with a big meeting table and a digital whiteboard for brainstorming inside.
It’s clear Elysium isn’t just blowing smoke. They really do equip their golden boys with the best. I’m not one to get jealous, but anyone would be in awe of their setup.
Grey and Oliver are already standing in the meeting room behind the table when Misha guides me inside. Oliver is rubbing his neck, eyes on the floor, ears red, while Grey just gives me a curt nod, but it feels like more than professional courtesy as his eyes rake over me.
Misha gestures toward the big table. “Have a seat,” he offers, his tone casual but friendly.
I start to pull my laptop from my backpack, but Misha stops me with a gentle hand on my wrist, making goose bumps form on my arm.
Why does he always have to touch me?
“No need for that today. We just want to talk a little.”
That sounds ominously informal.
“I’ve recorded some of Jamie’s interactions with the smart home devices to give you a clearer picture of how he handles real-world tasks,” I argue because I don’t want all the work I did to be for nothing.
“You can load them up to our shared cloud later, but thank you for that.” Misha dismisses me, so with a nod, I hand over Jamie’s hardware, which he accepts with a smile.
It wasn’t easy to uninstall him this morning. Well, it was easy to do but not easy to handle. It felt more like losing a friend—a one-dimensional one, but still a friend.
I can only hope they’re going to put him on the market soon.
Settling into the chair, I try to ease the tension in my shoulders. Misha leans against the table while Oliver hovers nearby, occasionally glancing my way but mostly studying his shoes.
If only they would sit, I could relax a little. It’s bad enough being in the same room as the three of them, but sitting here while they stand makes for a looming weight over me.
Grey stays in position at the other end of the table with his arms crossed, his permanent scowl etched across his face. I’ve seen him smile exactly once, and even then, it was more like his face was practicing the concept rather than embracing it.
“So, Amelia…” Misha begins, clasping his hands together, “… tell us about your experience with Jamie. Did everything go smoothly?”
Clearing my throat, I focus on the job-related question, grateful for the familiar territory. “Well, overall, I’m impressed. Jamie is… well, he’s quite remarkable. The way he interacts, the features… it’s all top-notch. Honestly, the hype is real and well-deserved.”
Misha beams at that, and even Oliver allows a small grin to flicker across his face. Grey’s expression remains unreadable, but I decide it’s probably just his face doing what it does best—scowling.
“But…” I trail off, shifting in my seat and taking a deep breath.
Here we go.
“It did feel a bit one-sided at times. Like talking to a very efficient butler who’s only there to respond rather than converse. Maybe giving Jamie a bit more of a… personality could help? Something to make the interaction feel more natural. Being a companion is his main focus after all, right?”
Misha nods thoughtfully. “That’s good feedback, Amelia. Really good. What about the integration with your smart home devices?”
That’s it? He doesn’t want more details?
I glance at Oliver to find him already staring at me.
He looks away promptly when I catch him, though.
When I turn to Grey, his brows are furrowed, and his tongue flicks out slightly, running along his bottom lip in what seems like a focused habit.
He appears completely absorbed in whatever is running through his mind.
“Amelia?” Misha asks, bringing me back on topic, and it’s as if he has inched closer to me.
“The initializing process took a little longer than expected, but integration was smooth for the most part. There were a few hiccups with the kitchen appliances. Like the smart fridge thermostat took longer than expected to adjust. I don’t think it was on my side of the integration, though.
I have some records on that too. I’ll upload them with the rest.”
Grey finally speaks, his voice deep and a bit gruff.
“Noted.” His light brown eyes bore into me, narrowing.
After a moment that feels probably way longer than it was, he finally speaks again.
“Would you consider continuing to test Jamie? While we work on integrating more personality traits and fixing the kitchen issues, your ongoing feedback would be valuable.”
My breath hitches, catching in my throat.
I could keep him a little longer?
I open my mouth to agree, but before the word can leave my lips, Misha and Oliver send sharp glares in Grey’s direction. Oliver, usually so reserved, lets out a gruff whisper, “Grey…”
What did he say?
I look to Misha, confused, and he forces a smile. “Amelia, could you give us just a moment?”
“Sure,” I whisper, feeling the anxiety I just managed to shake off creep up again.
They walk out of the room, closing the glass door, and I can see them gather beside their desks.
Their voices have a hushed, urgent undertone that doesn’t quite mask the tension.
I catch snippets of their conversation. Oliver and Misha are clearly arguing with Grey, insisting that they had agreed the beta phase was over.
Seems like no one ever told them that their meeting room isn’t soundproof.
“We’ve dedicated years to this project!” Grey’s voice breaks through louder than he likely intended.
“It’s not perfect, and yes, she pointed that out. We need to fix it, but we agreed we’d stop now with the beta,” Oliver argues, finishing off the longest sentence I’ve ever heard him speak with a flail of his hands. And the most determined he’s ever sounded too.
He hates having me beta his OS that much?
Grey’s retort is clipped, frustrated. “This isn’t about her. It’s about our careers. She’s crucial for the feedback we need. Without her, how will we know if we’ve actually fixed anything personality-wise? Fuck, we thought he was perfect in that regard!”
“Can’t we just give it to Langley for another beta?” Oliver asks, making it clear that he really has a problem with me beta testing.
I knew it.
His words sting—a reminder that to them, I’m just a means to an end. But I understand.
I’d do the same if it were my AR project.
You don’t invest years of your life into a project only to pull back just to avoid hurting someone’s feelings—someone you don’t even know.
Grey comes to my defense, leaving me a little speechless. “But then they’ll think she didn’t do a good job, and she did.”
They talk some more. However, they’re whispering now, and I can’t hear them. But after a few more moments, it seems they’ve finally come to a reluctant consensus and return to the room.
Misha looks a bit sheepish as he addresses me, “Amelia, would you be willing to help us out a bit longer to iron out these issues? We understand if you say no. We can’t compensate you for any extra hours outside of Elysium, and we can’t offer much in terms of credit…”
I have to suppress a laugh. I would never share credit for my AR with someone just because they beta-tested it for me.
Does he think I’m delusional?
I cut him off with a reassuring smile, my tone lightly sarcastic. “Don’t worry about it. I get it, and I’m happy to help. Maybe someday you guys can return the favor and beta test for me.”
Thinking that they—the future of tech—might beta test for me…
That would be delusional.
At my words, a small smirk curls on Grey’s lips—an expression that sends an unexpected flutter through my chest.
God, it’s so unfair. How are they all so handsome and brilliant at the same time?
Leave some for the rest of us.
“Thank you, this is very much appreciated,” Misha says, exhaling a relieved breath as he hands back Jamie’s hardware. I quickly stash it in my backpack, a ripple of joy passing through me at the thought of putting Jamie back where he belongs tonight.
“And how should I get the feedback to you? Should I upload a report to the cloud, or…” I trail off, hoping they’ll be happy with this option while I stand and put my backpack on.
Misha chuckles. “Who has time for daily reports or meetings? I bet you’ve got your own mountain of work, and we’re not about to hijack any more of your time. How about lunch?”
“Lunch what?” I blink, not sure if I heard him right.
“You do eat lunch, don’t you? We could meet up, have a bite, and discuss your findings. Casual,” he suggests with a shrug.
Ah, shit.
“Or I could just send you an email,” I counter, hoping to steer clear of more face-to-face time.
“You’re funny,” Misha grins, and I grimace internally.
I wasn’t trying to be funny.