Perion Synthetics (51 page)

“Alright, Mr. Roe, you may begin,” said
Perion.

If Adam Roe and his legal team were here
now, then something more than a father-son chat was about to take place.

In the construct, Anela’s hand appeared on
Sava’s shoulder.

“Thank you, Mr. Perion,” said Roe. “I call
this emergency meeting of Perion Synthetics executive staff to order on this
seventeenth day of November, 2015. Today’s meeting is attended by myself, Adam
Roe, and my team. From management, we have James Perion, Joseph Perion,
Katherine Shaw, Nicholas Shaw, and Sava Kessler.”

“Where is Steve Phelps?” asked Perion.

Sava leaned forward to look down the table.
The VP of Security was absent.

One of Roe’s men spoke up. “Mr. Phelps
resigned his position this morning, Mr. Perion. Deborah Keats was his next
direct report, but we’ve been unable to locate her.”

Synth J shook his head and waved for Roe to
continue.

“We’ve been gathered at the request of Mr.
Perion to discuss the future of the company. All information disclosed in these
proceedings is confidential and will be treated as such by all attendees per
your employment agreements. If anyone is uncomfortable with these terms, they
may leave now.”

No one stood.

Roe cleared his throat. “Then, Mr. Perion,
if you will.”

Perion had been staring at his son, but the
lawyer’s words brought his attention back.

“Thank you, Mr. Roe. Fine work, as always.”

Roe nodded.

“It’s true,” continued Perion, addressing
the assembled crowd. “I have called you here to talk about the future. After
last night, I’m sure you all have questions. However, I’d like to start by
talking about the past, about the last six months in particular.”

Sava felt the construct come on like a wave of
nausea. She saw herself crouched beneath the dome, stuck in the moment between
fight and flight. Beside her, Anela stood with her head tilted back, staring at
the growing crack in the glass ceiling.

“Earlier this year, I was diagnosed with
pancreatic cancer.”

A red glow flared on the horizon as the
demon reared its horned head. Black hooves dripping in thick oil slammed into
the construct’s dome, freeing crystal shards which fell like rain on Sava’s
avatar.

“By the time the cancer was discovered, it had
exceeded the reach of pre-modern medicine. My only hope for survival rested in
the hands of Arthur Sedivy and Vinestead International’s Guardian Angel chip.
Only through their implant, grow wire, and proprietary code would I have even
stood a chance at beating this thing.”

The lawyers were practiced at keeping their
emotions hidden, but Katherine Shaw flashed worry, either at Perion’s failing
health or the possible presence of Vinestead technology in the city.

Perion looked at his son, but Joe was more
interested in the swirls of wood on the table.

“On the morning of November 10, 2015, at
7:08 am, James Perion as you know him, passed away due to complications from
pancreatic cancer.”

Katherine Shaw gasped and grabbed her
husband’s hand. Nico showed no signs of surprise.

“Prior to my death, and through an
unprecedented engineering effort, I was able to imprint my consciousness onto
this Virgo Prime chassis.” Perion caught eyes with the lawyers. “Yes, Mr. Roe.
I’m a synthetic.”

Adam Roe shook his head minutely. “But, Mr.
Perion, this means…”

Perion held up a hand. “I know what it
means. As of 7:09 am Tuesday morning, control of the company and my estate
passed to my son. I had hoped to stay on as long as possible until Joe was
ready for the responsibility, but after last night, it is clear my judgment has
become questionable.” He sighed. “I suppose we still have some work to do before…
well, it doesn’t matter anymore. This experiment is over.”

“There were some legal agreements signed
last week that will need to be redone,” said Roe. He turned to his team. “Pull
every deal and contract executed since last Tuesday and prepare them for Mr.
Perion’s signature. George, prepare HR for the personnel update.” His eyes
landed on Sava. “Ms. Kessler, we will need a press release and obituary ready
by this afternoon.”

“No,” said Perion. “No fanfare. You can spin
my death as an internal matter. We don’t need memorials right now. I want all
efforts focused on my son.”

Joe looked up from the table and turned to
Synth J. Some nonverbal message passed between them as he rubbed his throat.

Sava couldn’t help but mirror the gesture.

“I know,” said Perion. His voice lowered,
though it was obvious he didn’t care who heard him. “I tried to take everything
from you, but now I want you to have it all. I’ll stay with you as long as you
need me, or if you’d like, I’ll let you learn the ropes yourself. It’s whatever
you want at this point.”

“As a matter of course, Perion Synthetics
does not employ synthetic humans as such,” said Roe. “We could not pay your
father if he decided to stay on, nor can you allot him an interest in the
company’s business. I suppose you’re aware of that, Mr. Perion?”

“Of course he’s aware,” answered Joe.
“That’s why he brought in Governor Howard. They want to make it legal for
synthetics to own property and have the same rights as humans.”

Sava watched the lawyers’ heads bob in
unison.

“That may work,” said Julie Pennington,
Roe’s only female staffer. “If California were to pass a law recognizing
synthetics as humans, then Mr. Perion could rejoin the company at any position.
Though, as Joseph is now the owner and CEO, it would be at his discretion.”

Crosstalk sprung up as the gears turned
behind Joe’s eyes. His lips moved as if he were mumbling to himself.

Finally, Perion stood up and called for
order. “Ladies and gentlemen, it has been a pleasure working with each and
every one of you. I will rest easy knowing my son and my company are in good
hands. Since I no longer have a say in the company’s direction, I’ll take my
leave.”

He paused behind Joe and put his hand on his
son’s back. “I’ll be with your mother if you need me.”

Joe nodded as his father exited the room.
His eyes found Sava’s.

The construct shuddered under the weight of
the demon’s barrage. Anela stood a short distance away, staring at the red
bloom, her arms crossed.

“This does not change anything,” said Anela
to the demon. “The company remains. The army continues to march against
Vinestead as it always has; only the general is different. And you know as well
as I do that one man or woman does not make a movement. It is in the numbers,
the sheer power involved. No, my friend. The war is still very much on.”

“Well, Mr. Perion,” said Roe. “We have much
to discuss. There is, of course, a mountain of paperwork for you to sign.”

“We’ll need an inventory of Mr. Perion’s
estate,” said George Symanski. “The tax implications are going to be a
nightmare, Joe, but we’ll see you through.”

“Mr. Shaw, I’ll need to brief you on Mr.
Perion’s day-to-day responsibilities as CEO,” said Donald Mills.

“And there’s also the problem of what to
tell the employees.” Jason Minnick pushed his glasses up his nose. “Mr. Perion
has been seen and may continue to be seen walking around the building. We don’t
want any confusion…”

“Enough!”

Katherine Shaw flinched at the sound of her
husband’s voice.

Nico gestured to Joe. “Can’t you see he
needs time to process this? Give him a moment to let it sink in.” He stood and
pushed his chair back. “This meeting is adjourned. We’ll reconvene at Joe’s
convenience. Anything you have for him will go through me. Mr. Roe, designate
one of your helpers to be the liaison. This transition
will
go smoothly
so long as we don’t rush things. The company has been without a human CEO for
over a week; it can go another few days.”

Some of the lawyers opened their mouths to
protest, but Roe silenced them. “Very well, Mr. Shaw. We will put an agenda
together and send it over with Julie this afternoon.”

“Just the highlights,” said Nico. “Top five
action items and nothing else.”

Adam Roe stood and extended a hand to Joe.
“My condolences, Mr. Perion.”

Joe shook his hand and each of the lawyers’
hands as they filed out.

Katherine Shaw lingered in front of Joe for
a moment before hugging him. “I’m sorry for your loss,” she said.

If he heard her, he didn’t show it. His eyes
remained focused on Sava.

“Wait,” he said.

Donald Mills stopped at the doorway.

“I’m ready for my first order as CEO of
Perion Synthetics,” said Joe, taking a deep breath.

The lawyer pulled his palette from under his
arm and tapped its screen to wake it up. “What is it, Mr. Perion?”

A slice of the construct shook free and fell
to the floor, tearing a line down Sava’s back. Blood flowed in weightless
bubbles, filling the space behind her. Anela did her best to contain the damage,
but each time she grasped a globe of blood, it split around her fingers.

“Sava Kessler.”

“Yes, Mr. Perion?” asked Sava, barely able
to speak.

“You’re fired.”

There was a ringing in Sava’s ears she couldn’t blot out. It
drove her to the safety of a bench just outside the conference room. There, Cam
sat with his back against the wall and one leg crossed over the other, fiddling
with his sliver. He was sure to have heard Joe’s proclamation, but he didn’t
say anything until the last suit had disappeared behind the elevator doors,
until the two AGs flanking the door had escorted the new CEO of Perion
Synthetics out of his first all-hands meeting. Then it was just Sava and Cam
sitting alone in the hallway, squinting their eyes at the rough sunlight pouring
in through the window.

“Don’t take it so hard,” said Cam, running
his finger over his sliver. The red LED blinked on. “Jobs are like
relationships: if Joe Perion doesn’t want you on his payroll, then I say fuck
him. There’s plenty of work out there for a woman of your tenacity.”

Sava barely heard Cam over the steam whistle
echoing in her head, but she could see his lips moving in her periphery. He was
trying to console her about what he thought was a simple firing, a temporary
loss of responsibility and income. He didn’t understand the true extent: that
with a single termination, Joe Perion had changed the course of Perion
Synthetics and Vinestead International forever. Sava had spent so long trying
to steer the ship in the right direction, getting cozy with the captain and the
navigator and the deck hands who kept everything looking shiny. Now they had
thrown her overboard, had left her floating alone in a sea of uncertain
futures.

“Do you think you’ll go back to San Diego?”
asked Cam.

“Why would I go there?”

“That’s where you’re from, right? Your file
says you grew up there. Sometimes people revisit their childhood homes when
they have a life event. Helps to recenter, you know?”

Sava thought about her old neighborhood in
the suburbs of San Diego: the uniform streets packed with cars on both sides,
leaving only the tiniest path for traffic; the Tejano music blasting from every
other beater up on blocks; the six legs of three Mexicans sticking out from
under them; her family’s rundown duplex with the stained white brick falling
apart on the sides and the yellow paint peeling in the back; a yard overgrown
with weeds and patches of dirt; her father standing on the porch watering the
lone rose bush he had planted the year Anela died that had returned season
after season while everything else languished around it; and finally, her
mother, sitting in the rocking chair in the living room, perpetually jacked
into a VNet simulation she never discussed with anyone but that Sava knew was
just a sensory loop of decaying memories of a simpler time when her girls were
just girls and the rest of the world was a dangerous but far-off place.

Going back there would just remind her of
the pockets of desolation littering the country, the little neighborhoods where
people went about their business with a wary eye turned to the dome, to the
demon looming on the horizon. They were subjugated and they didn’t even know
it, caught in a cycle of debt and earning too little to ever break free of it.
Why had Vinestead even bothered to bring jobs to the west coast if they were
just going to pack it all up a decade later and ship it overseas? Why give her
father a comfortable wage and then rip it from his hands just in time for his
first daughter to be born?

“I don’t need to recenter,” said Sava, “and
I don’t need to go home. I need to be here, adjusting the sails. Everything was
going according to plan. It was just going to be another few years, five at the
most.”

“Life changes,” said Cam. “We can do our
best to put a plan to it, but really it’s gonna do what it’s gonna do. You
can’t let it get you down.”

Sava put up a hand. “Spare me, Gray. You
think this is about a stupid job or some other intangible life event bullshit,
but it’s not.” She turned her face to the window and closed her eyes. “Just
because you don’t see the enemy out there doesn’t mean they’re not there.”

She fingered the ring on her thumb for a
moment before pulling it off and examining it in the glare.

“Chuck’s?” asked Cam.

Chuck Huber.

Where was he in all of this? How would he go
on without someone in his life to keep him grounded?

“No,” said Sava. “It’s just a reminder of
what we’re fighting for. You spend so much time jumping from story to story,
you don’t see how it’s all coming together. The endgame isn’t pretty, Gray. The
sooner you realize it, the better.”

Cam shook his head. “Companies come and go.
Whether Joe runs Perion Synthetics into the ground or towards global
domination, it won’t matter in the long run. What matters is quality of life,
doing the things you want to do, and having the freedom to be your own person.”