Chapter Six
To his surprise, his new assistant was at her desk when he arrived bright and early the next morning. She appeared to be working on something, although he couldn’t imagine what. He hadn’t given her any orders yet.
“Good morning,” she said.
“What are you doing?”
“I am summarizing your comms.”
“Why?”
“To save you time. You have 116 this morning. I’ve highlighted the important ones so you can ignore the trivia. It appears other departments copy you on everything.”
They did. It was the bane of his existence. One of the banes. Call him paranoid, but sometimes it seemed like there was a conspiracy to bury him in mundanity and nonsense.
He folded his arms. “How do you know what’s important and what’s not?”
“Most seem quite obvious. Do you need to be informed they’re changing the security guard uniforms to include an extra pocket?
I’m guessing no. But the User Interface Department discovered a critical issue with a new prototype that must be addressed before the product can be manufactured.
I’ve scheduled a holo-comm for you this morning to address it.
” She paused. “I notated the messages I’m not sure about. I’ll have the summary done shortly.”
What she said sounded good, but this was only the start of her second day, and he hadn’t read her summary yet.
“Get me a kaffii,” he said and disappeared into his office.
The daystar was on the rise, giving the craggy city skyline a rosy glow and the shapes more prominence.
With uncharacteristic interest, he paused for a moment to study it then took his seat.
He called up a design requiring his review and immersed himself in the project.
Forty minutes later, he surfaced. Where the flek is that kaffii?
Finally, his new assistant entered and set a steaming cup and a nuknuk on his desk. “Here you go,” she said cheerfully.
He hoped she wasn’t one of those infernally chatty people. He hated chatty.
“What took you so long?”
“The cafeteria is a bit of a distance away.”
“You didn’t take the tube?”
“No, I prefer to walk.”
“Next time I send you for something, take the tube.” Grudgingly, he awarded points for the nuknuk. He often ate one for breakfast but hadn’t thought to ask for one. Yet, she’d figured it out.
“If you had a kaffii machine in your office, you could have kaffii on demand.”
“I have it on demand now,” he pointed out. Almost. Why didn’t she take the tube? “I think Verilla may have ordered a machine.” He vaguely recalled approving a requisition.
“The virtual meeting with UI and Manufacturing is scheduled for nine, and I’ve sent you the summary of the comms. There are four sections: action required by you, action items I can handle, items I was uncertain about, and information only. Do you have any questions?”
“No.” Just one. Why did he suddenly feel like he worked for her?
* * * *
Savannah felt like a cop directing traffic at an accident scene in the middle of a construction zone.
Her new boss had back-to-back meetings, holographic and personal, and the whole time, the message system dinged with people demanding to speak to him.
She had much to learn about the company, its business, and its culture, but so many of the requests seemed trivial.
Why were people bothering him with that stuff?
Leery of exceeding her authority, she fielded the requests as best as she could until she managed to grab a few minutes with him between meetings. Fingers drumming on his desk, he answered her questions in clipped sentences with no attempt to conceal his impatience.
When he delivered a terse reply and rolled his eyes, she snapped, “I’m trying to help you!”
“That’s your job, isn’t it?”
“It’s my second day.”
“I expect my employees to be competent on the first day.”
“I am the most competent executive assistant you’ll ever have.” She glowered at him. The way you’re going, I might be the last one you ever have.
“Then, prove it.”
You can take this job and… She pressed her lips together before she told him what he could do with the job. Her face, always more expressive than she preferred, must have given her away because he said, “Go ahead. Say it.”
Oh, she wanted to. But she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of goading her. “Unlike you, I don’t say everything that pops into my head.”
“Really?” he scoffed, but surprisingly, he replied to her questions with a little more patience.
When she returned to her desk, she dispatched the items on her list and fielded calls with more confidence.
Before she knew it, it was an hour past lunchtime.
Mindful of the time, she took the nausea-inducing tube ride to the cafeteria to find it deserted, with robos clearing away the remains of lunch.
A bot scraped the congealed dregs from a serving pan onto her plate.
She carried it to a table and sat by her lonesome. Stratos had missed lunch completely. She might have felt bad for him, except after the way he treated her, he didn’t deserve lunch.
She took a big vengeful bite of her meal.
Gagging, she spit out the mouthful. Fortunately, no one was around to witness her gross behavior. Of course, food preferences were cultural, but it was hard to believe anybody could enjoy such vile fare. She took a gulp of water. Ugh.
Had she any idea how horrible it tasted, she would have saved the last entrée for Stratos. He deserved lunch, too, after all.
Maybe he’d be less grouchy if he had better food.
There was no excuse for his poor manners and bad temper.
Savannah counted the days until Verilla returned, and she could leave with a good reference. Hopefully, once she got a better handle on the job, she wouldn’t have to interact with him so much.
She signaled a robo to take her tray, and she returned to the office.
With Stratos in meetings and out of her hair, she fielded more calls and messages. She also forwarded an urgent report from the lab manager of his department.
A short time later, he came flying out of his office. “I’m going to the research lab.”
“You’re supposed to meet with the director of product management.”
“Bump it to later in the day.”
“Later in the day, you’re being interviewed by the Oberian Business Journal.”
He made a face. “Get me out of that. The Public Relations Department keeps setting that up.”
“It’s been rescheduled twice.” His calendar recorded which meetings had been moved.
“Maybe the third time will be the charm, and they’ll get the hint I’m not going to do it.”
“It’s not my place to say anything—”
“Then, don’t.”
“But if you wish to avoid developing the same kind of reputation outside the company that you have inside, you shouldn’t be so dismissive—”
He moved closer to her desk and scowled from his great height. “And what is my reputation?” he said in a low voice.
Despite her bravado, her stomach fluttered. Had she gone too far? She had a reputation for speaking her mind, but she’d never been this brazen. He brought out the worst in her. “Um…”
“Well, Ms. Mays?”
What the hell. In for a dime, in for a dollar. “That you intimidate people.” Like you’re trying to do with me right now.
“Well, then, I guess I’ve earned it. Cancel those appointments and come with me. It’s time you learned what this department does. And hurry. I don’t have all day.”
She rescheduled his appointments and then, together, they strode to the tube. She hated riding it. She felt like a clown shot from a cannon at the circus—except the clown had a safety net.
“Nobody ever gets injured, do they?” she asked as she buckled in and braced for the stomach-churning propulsion.
“Almost never.”
Horrified, her gaze shot to his face. “Almost?” she squeaked.
He finally seemed to notice her white-knuckled grip on the seat arms. “It really scares you?”
“Yes!”
She expected a snide remark, but he said, “I was joking. No one has been injured since it’s been in use.”
He keyed in the code then their chairs disengaged and shot through the tunnel, lurching to a stop several seconds later. Queasy, she leaped out of the tube.
He strode along the passage while she speed-walked to keep up. “How does riding the tube affect you?” he asked.
“I’ve already said I don’t like it. I feel unsafe.”
“I meant physically.”
“Sick to my stomach. Why? Does that matter?”
“Actually, yes. We’re still testing it. If there are bugs, we must work them out before it goes to market. It shouldn’t make you nauseous.”
“Whoa, wait a minute. You mean the tube hasn’t been perfected yet?”
“No. It’s a prototype. But we’re 99 percent there.”
“Let me get this straight—employees are guinea pigs?”
“Our employees are mostly Oberian.”
“A guinea pig is an animal used as a test subject.”
“Then I amend my answer to yes.”
She was too stunned to reply for a moment. Then: “I can’t believe you endanger your employees like that.”
“Nobody is in any danger. That would be unethical, self-defeating, and bad for business. You can’t sell products if you kill or injure your buyers. All prototypes are rigorously tested in the research lab with robos before employees try them.”
That reassured her a little bit.
“The OberTech complex is basically one big testing site, but we have a dedicated research lab for prototype development and preliminary trials. Incidentally, that’s the department I oversee.”
“I knew that.”
“Speaking of which, here we are.”
Research and Development. Authorized personnel only, said the small placard.
He pressed his palm to the pad, a light blinked, and the door slid open. “The R&D lab is one of the highest security areas. Don’t discuss anything you see or hear in this room with anybody who does not have access. Understood?”
She nodded.