Chapter Five October Twenty-Sixth
Pine Ridge, New York
“And the neck bone is connected to the shoulder bone. The shoulder bone’s connected to the arm bone. The clavicle is connected to the humerus—” I stop singing to Laurel when I notice she’s finally dozed off.
Thank. God. Of course, she didn’t want to nap for more than thirty minutes at a time for the past two days.
Of course, today was the day she switched from four-ounce bottles to six-ounce.
And also of course, it took me until the noon feeding to figure out that’s why she was so unsettled and kept waking up unhappy.
Between Laurel seeming to be starving and not wanting to sleep, and the major project I’m working on, I don’t think I’ve slept in two days.
I hurry to put her down in her rock-a-swing and race back to my computer.
Yesterday, I was supposed to have a patch put in to fix a degradation bug in an older MenuGenius client’s software before their new menu launches for their grand reopening.
They’re one of the biggest chains in South Korea, and I’m so behind, missing the first “Keep the customer rating at exceeds expectations” deadline, the second “this is the first date we told them it would be ready” deadline, and now skating towards unemployment on the final “it will definitely be ready no later than right the fuck now” deadline.
It doesn’t help that they’re fourteen hours ahead.
My fingers fly, my eyes blur, I check, and double check, and... whoo.
It’s good. It’s good to go.
Relaxation slams into me, a full-body shudder that undoes all my muscles. I run final checks and check the “client view” option to see that it all looks good, and then I can send.
I lean back and watch the re-opening video that’s part of the launch.
It covers the company’s history, starting in the 1970s.
To be fair, it’s a really awesome video.
They’ve got everything from Michael Jackson and former presidents eating their food in old video clips to K-pop stars and cartoon characters making cameos.
Multi-million dollar campaign, I think, contentment settling over me. I helped them thrive, get there. They can afford it. I might not be facing firing—or at least a scary interview with my boss about squeaking by my deadline. I could be getting a raise.
Yeah. The CEO could love the way it looks, the way the launch goes, and the sleek new online customer ordering platform and survey interface.
He’ll call the head of MenuGenuis, who’ll call the regional manager, who’ll call the head of IT, who’ll say it wasn’t some effing bot, it was a hard-working little guy with astigmatism, a good old remote coder, Artie Taylor.
My boss gets the call. Yep, at only 24, he’s a thriving force for human ingenuity and dedication, he’ll say.
My boss will call me. You’re getting a raise!
And then I’ll have money to pay off the credit cards, and Laurel will have everything she ever needs.
I can pay for a private specialist, one of those doctors who comes to celebrities’ houses and tells them they should stop injecting themselves with goldfish brains to look younger, or something like that.
Uh. No. No, Artie, you’ll never get that kind of money, not from this.
But that’s okay, if Laurel is safe and happy.
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz.
“Wahhh!”
I sit up with a gasp, and realize...I’ve screwed up. I fell asleep. My phone is buzzing. My workspace app is flashing. My whole screen is flashing—and I know why.
I fell asleep and never got out of client preview and back to coder view to send the final approval after final checks. And Laurel is awake again. Baby or work?
No work, no food for baby. I hit the button to send the final project live, grab Laurel, answer my phone, and hit the app’s notifications.
“I just sent it! I’m so sorry, I—there was a sudden storm and the router went out, and my daughter is sick,” I gasp out before my boss can say anything.
Amazingly, there’s a pause. I can almost hear the scream dying out of his voice, even though all I actually hear is a shuddering sigh.
“It’ll never, ever happen again.”
How am I supposed to promise that?
My boss finally speaks. “I didn’t know you had a kid.”
“She’s new. I mean, she’s only a couple months old, sir.”
“I also don’t care that you have a kid.”
“Oh.” My heart sinks. I hug Laurel tighter, and all kinds of horrible thoughts fly through my head.
If I have no home and I have no money, or I have to get a job at some nine-to-five place, like a grocery store or in the IT/Customer Service department of Tech Mart or A-Plus Mobile.
.. Who will watch Laurel? I can’t leave her alone.
The reasons that people sacrifice the greatest thing in their lives, their whole worlds, the person they love most, suddenly loom larger than ever. I’d have to give her up. And I’d probably never get her back. I’m not legally her parent. I’m... I’m in so much trouble.
“Please, sir. I know I really screwed up, but this is a very temporary childcare snafu. You’ll see that it won’t happen again.”
“You know... You’re a good worker. That dairy-free menu disaster was fixed without any lawsuits—as far as we know.”
“That’s wonderful.” My chest loosens a little. My boss doesn’t sound angry. He sounds cold and calm, as if he’s calculating whether my career is going to live or die.
“We had an AI assistant from Raw Skillz tell a consumer that they could make chicken and pork tartar. It just gave the ‘eating undercooked foods may cause illness’ warning and proceeded to tell them to finely dice raw chicken and marinate for at least twelve hours before consuming.”
“That’s sickening, sir.” And so is this waiting.
“No one caught it until two girls in Los Angeles got salmonella and ended up in the hospital.”
“Oh, no.”
“That’s a human error that makes us look bad.”
“I would say it’s an AI error, sir.”
“It’s both!” he suddenly thunders, and Laurel wails.
That kid has really good hearing.
“But... Your work is good, and your timing is usually very good. You’re going to get a note in your employment record—but it’s going to explain the storm and power outage.
You will need to get a generator in your home so you can at least ensure that you contact someone up the chain to take the project and push it through. ”
Will the company pay for that? I want to ask—but I don’t. I’m too busy realizing that my knees have turned to liquid. I can’t let this happen again.
“Congrats on the baby, Art.”
“Thank you!” I manage to sound happy.
“This is a job that’s flexible, great for parenting—as long as you get your work done. We told you that you’d work nights, long hours, weekends—and then there will be lulls between projects.”
“I know, sir, and I’m grateful. It’s been really helpful.”
“I’m glad you realize that. I hate firing guys with kids—especially before the holidays.”
The liquefaction of my knees has spread to my arms. My chest.
Is this a heart attack? I’m twenty-four, and I never even smoked!
“Are you there?”
“Yes! Right.” I gulp. “You won’t have to do that with me, sir. I’m going to make sure my daughter has the best first Christmas ever.”
I’m going to get her something I never had.
A mom.
YEAH, I’M SLEEP-DEPRIVED, currently over-caffeinated, and I have a baby with horns sleeping on my chest in one of those kangaroo pouches.
I’m doing something shady, but I’m doing it for my kid. I suddenly understand a lot of those movies where dads go stark raving loony to the point they will literally steal and kill.
I’m not doing anything like that. I’m just on a highly questionable website. No Questions Asked Employment.
I post the job with shaking fingers: “Wife” Wanted.
About me: I’m a full-time single dad to an adorable three-month-old daughter.
I can’t work full-time and be a full-time caregiver.
I have little money and even less family, which is why I’m probably one of the only decent human beings on this site (no offense).
If you are also a decent person in a hard spot, maybe we can help each other.
Job Requirements and Compensation: Offering full room and board, health benefits, and a private room in exchange for childcare for my daughter with special needs that only impact how she looks, not her development.
She is healthy and happy, just needs love and normal baby care.
You will be under my supervision at all times.
I work from home and will absolutely cut you if you hurt my baby.
I pause.
This sounds unhinged.
Don’t care.
I continue.
In a few years, we can get a nice, amicable divorce.
You will not get custody. You will not even think about asking for it, but hopefully, my daughter will consider you a special person, so you’ll always be welcome to stay in touch.
No other duties required except taking care of my child.
No hanky-panky. You have to have a clean record. I will check it.
Travel expenses paid.
English preferred.
No drugs, no substances, no smoking, no diseases, no nutcases.
I post before I can reconsider if this is a good idea, a bad idea, or a downright terrible and possibly criminal idea... The posting will probably get seventy hits from potential kidnappers, green card hunters, and all the hate in the world.
“Baby girl, I didn’t know what else to do.
I need help, and I don’t think I can afford to pay someone for full-time help—and I don’t think I can afford to cut down my hours.
There are probably lots of free programs that would help me,” I stroke her hair, and my fingers touch her horns.
I bite my lip and swallow. “But I’m afraid of sending you out into the world just yet.
It’s not a friendly place. But don’t worry.
.. Someone has been looking out for both of us all this time.
We’re survivors, you and I. It’s gonna stay a friendly world for you, Laurel, as long as I’m around. ”
Laurel hums in her sleep, actually hums. Makes a tiny bubble of brightness in a dark and scary world.