Below, read the first excerpt.
Though it wasn’t that Leo believed you needed good parents to be productive.
In fact, in his line of work, bad parents were often an advance indicator of success.
Just because his wife cannot keep house, so I have to die .
Inside the lobby, a brass plaque with initials: spb.
The best of Russia’s three intelligence agencies.
Now the weather outside was warm, which meant the audito- rium was near stifling.
Peter Stepanov, Leo’s colleague from Direc- torate Eight, fidgeted to his right.
“How about that one?”
Peter asked, subtly pointing, though Leo already knew to whom he gestured.
The blonde in front, with hair down to her waist.
“Why not?”
“I need more than just a pretty face.”
“You think I’m only scanning for the faces?”
Peter looked in- sulted.
“Look at her colors.”
Meaning the blue-and-yellow sash over her shoulder.
Leo’s own was in a box, on a high shelf in his closet.
“I don’t need a top graduate.”
“Oh, so a simpleminded one.”
“Then the possibilities widen.
Over there, the redhead on the right.
Vera was a correspondent for Russia Central Media, or RCM, the state-owned news group.
“No, not her.”
“What, not beautiful enough?
“I don’t need beautiful.
Don’t want it, in fact.”
Peter thought about this.
“So you want dumb and bad-looking, is that it?
Leo had awoken this morning with a bad headache and had nearly elected not to come.
But now he was glad he’d made the effort.
Back of the stage: fourth row, on the left.
How long had it been?
And yet he knew her.
They called them institutes but what they really were was orphanages, landing zones for unwanted children.
The in- stitutes were mostly located in larger towns, occasionally on the outskirts of big cities.
It was on a trip to one of these that Leo first saw Julia.
He’d been in search of a boy.
An older one, which was difficult, because if robust, boys were usually adopted young.
The task was both delicate and important, involving the Canadian ambassador and his wife.
But also, you know, they really wanted a boy.
So Leo was sent to seek an acceptable candidate.
A child old enough, clever enough to be groomed.
One by one they spoke.Hello, sir, my name is .
By the ninth introduction, Leo’s focus began to drift.
“My name is Pavel,” the boy began.
“My favorite book is the one with the man in blue who has muscles and can fly.”
Pavel closed his eyes, as if summoning the image.
“I don’t remember any of the words.”
Leo knew the man to whom Pavel referred.
A Western fabrication, with Western values.
Have a nice life.
As Leo prepared to depart, he felt a tap and turned to find a girl.
“You could take me.”
“I’m sorry.
Perhaps next time.”
“I can be very good,” she said, not moving.
“I am very, very in- terested in doing a good job.
I would not say what Pavel did.
You were right to leave him behind.”
“How did you know I was interested in Pavel?”
A little curious now.
“They talked about it before you came.
That you wanted a boy.
The adults here speak as if none of us have ears.”
He was amused by her phrasing.
“Pavel is not the only boy.”
“You make a fist when you are paying attention.
You did it in the beginning, when Sophia bent for the tea.
She only wears that sweater when we have visitors, you know.”
Instantly, Leo thrust his hand behind his back.
He slowly loos- ened his grip, feeling absurd.
He knelt and said in a low voice: “You say you would do a good job.
But you don’t even know what sort of job it is I would ask.”
Her face scrunched as she thought.
“Well whatever it is, I am interested.”
“What’s your name?”
He nodded, as if committing the name to a mental ledger.
“And how long have you been here?”
“Since I was little.”
So you do not remember your time before?”
A shadow flicked across her face.
“I have been here my whole life.”
She cleared her throat.
“You know, I can also sing.”
He rocked on his heels.
“Go ahead, then.
Sing me a song.”
She closed her eyes.
“I’m so happy…”
“An American song?”
“I’m sorry”
“Don’t be.
It’s never wrong to practice other languages.
A very good idea, actually.”
He rose, and then after a hesitation patted her on the head.
“Perhaps I’ll see you later.”
She took a small step, deftly rejecting his touch.
“I don’t know.
Or the next.”
Julia settled on him a hard look.
“You won’t come.
We will never see each other again.”
“Do you remember meeting me?”
He shifted, and his chair made an ugly noise against the floor.
“It was a long time ago.”
“Yes,” Julia said, and Leo took the moment to study her up close.
Sloykas, he guessed.
“When we first met, you said you did not know your parents.”
“Is that still the case?”
Though he knew the answer, as by nowa week after the graduationhe had assembled her complete file.
I do not know them.
Or think of them.”
“And you understand what the SPB does.”
Watching her care- fully, as here was where some of his potentials flamed out.
As if by not working for the SPB they might exist farther from its eye, their sins unrecorded.
“As much as anyone else.”
“You understand our country is under attack.
From our ene- mies, and even our supposed friends.”
“And that any harm done to the West is a benefit to us.”
So what do you want?”
“Nothing right now.
You’ll have to finish the security paper- work, complete introductory training.
Then I believe the first order of business will be a voice coach.”
“A voice coach?”
“What do I needthatfor?”
“The way you speak, it’s intolerable.”
There was silence, and she glared at the floor.
“If you think my speaking is so bad, then why did you request me?”
she asked at last, her face reddening.
“Because it wasn’t for my looks.”
Ah, he thought.
So you want to take that away before it can be used.
“I believe you are a woman with tenacity,” Leo said, deliber- ately using the wordwoman.
“That, plus creativity, is what I search for.”
She snorted and flushed deeper.
“And what does a voice coach have to do with creativity?”
“What I do for my job is construct a package.
A human pack- age, for a specific purpose.
Perhaps the problem came after so much time in the institute.
Because when we first met, it was not so bad.”
That perhaps she’d nursed hopes of his reappearance for years after.
“In English.”
“Yes, and your command of language was already decent.
With a coach to refine the pronunciation you could become nearly fluent.
He waited for Julia to ask why English was important, but she refrained.
“And say I do the voice coach and learn the good English.
“Perhaps we do acting training.
There are no guarantees.
During each step your performance would be evaluated.”
“And after?”
“A piano teacher, and then gymnastics, and I go join the circus?”
He shook his head.
“If you were ready, you’d begin the next phase.
To serve our country, in secret, abroad .
Julia perked at this.
She began to tick off fingers.
“New York, Shanghai, Paris .
“Not any of those.”
“Cairo, Munich, Sydney…. "
“None of those, either.”
“All right, where?”
Eager in her curiosity.
She’s just a child, Leo thought.
A rude one, but a child nonetheless.
“Silicon Valley.”
“Silicon Valley,” Julia repeated, not entirely disappointed.
“You mean San Francisco?”
“We can determine the right city later.
We have people at both Berkeley and Stanford.
You’ll need to be enrolled in a graduate pro- gram, for the visa.”
“And what would you have me do?”
He laced his fingers.
“You have heard of the start-up culture there?”
Her voice held an edge of derision.
“What, you don’t think the internet is interesting?”
“I’m not the sort to stare at a computer all day.”
“Well, perhaps you could add a hobby.
Another boom is com- ing.
I want you to start a technology company.
A true Silicon Valley one, based locally.”
“A company,” Julia repeated uncertainly.
One viable enough to attract good investors.
The investors will be key, especially in the beginning.
What we refer to as a bridge.”
From outside came the beeps and clangs of construction.
Maybe the Metro, Leo thought, which they were forever promising would be built.
He waited for Julia’s response, which he assumed would be positive.
But instead of a quick smile or other signs of enthusiasm, Julia only tugged at her collar.
Both hands fiddled with the cotton; her eyes were wide and she kept her gaze on the table.
“You have seen my grades,” she said.
So that was the problem.
“Well,” she huffed.
“Then you already know I don’t have much talent.
But it wasn’t enough.”
Leo was surprised: he had not thought she’d acknowledge her own deficiencies.
But this meant only that he was all the more correct about her suitability as an asset.
“I don’t need an expert.
Just some technical proficiency.
A hard worker, which you’ve just told me you are.”
“So am I going to have help?
A technical coach?”
“A team of programmers?”
You’re going to do it all.
Create the company, and lead it.”
“But I already told you, I can’t manage the technical portion.”
“Don’t worry about that.”
He checked his watch.
The metal
chair was numbing his back.
He wanted to start home, stop at the butcher’s before returning to Vera.
“But isn’t the whole point of a start-up to have a product?”
She rocked back and forth in her chair.
“It has to have an offering.
A reason for its existence.”
“Yes, you’re right.”
“Then I don’t understand!
Where is it going to come from?”
And finally they had arrived at the heart of the matter.
A queer feeling overtook Leo and he felt himself hoping she’d prove worth- while.
I could change your life, he thought.
He let the quiet settle.
“We’ll steal it.”
June 2018
Julia
Julia Kall was getting married.
It was the expected thing, to keep one’s last name, especially given her career.
But that was why Julia was changing her own.
To hint at an inner traditionalist.
And then, once they had kidsbecause naturally kids would followshe would post about the whole family.
Raising our next generation.
You know, all that stupid shit.
Plus, Kall wasn’t even her real last name, anyway.
Though Eisner Gardens had not been her first choice of venue.
Julia’s first choice had been Indonesianot Kuta or Seminyak, but rather a private resort in Borobudur.
The wedding should be in California, Leo said.
In California, more people would come.
At least Eisner was undeniably magnificent, with acres of meticulously attended gardens.
Holding her train, taking tiny steps, Julia looked out the win- dow at the view below.
She scanned the crowd.
It appeared most of the two hundred were already here.
Finally, Julia sighted him.
How was he finding the first world, Rebecca was likely pressing, did he love California?
Wasn’t it nice here, because as everyone knew, Russia was so cold, all the time?
Though Julia did, in fact, love California.
What would she be doing then?
Attending the openings of car dealerships, frying chicken nuggets, falling asleep in church.
Shopping on the weekends for wooden plaques to hang on her wall:The Conner Family, Est.
The wedding planner was back in the room.
“Are you excited?”
Libby Rosenberg was one of those competent former sorority girls Julia liked to hire into marketing.
Though Libby had been clipping between the gardens in a full suit, her makeup was still perfectly matte.
“I’mgetting excited.”
“Of course.”
You should have something in your stomach before you go out.
Michael, why doesn’t Julia have a plate?
It’s her food, you know.”
She’s right, Julia thought.
It is my food.
I’m the one paying for it.
And then she returned to the window, to enjoy the view a while longer.
Of course, Julia wasn’t foolish enough to believe she’d achieved everything on her own merit.
There was help, especially in the beginning.
“Now you go fundraise.”
She stroked the machine, chunky and metallic.
“What is it?”
“Facial recognition software.
I assume you still recall enough of your studies to give a convincing demo.
I made up the working name, VisionMatch, but change it if you like.
It’s your company.”
She disliked the name but sensed he was proud of his creative output.
“Face recognition?”
“Properly deployed, it can match each face in a crowd of thou- sands in seconds.
Such technology has also been on the SPB’s wish list.
So why not multitask?”
“Where did you get it?”
He named an American technology giant, the sort that spon- sored stadiums.
“And they won’t realize we took it?”
Julia was surprised that such a thing could be lifted without consequence.
“These companies have so much, they probably won’t ever use it.
It’s not their chief business, only one of hundreds of side projects.
Something to remember about America: waste is part of their culture.”
By twenty-eight, he’d built Tangerine to deca-unicorn status and no longer cared what the media said.
Bankers on both sides, ordering the A5 Wagyu because they could.
Hopefully yours is as good.”
Oh oh oh, Julia thought.
You have no idea.
And now she was chief operating officer of Tangerine, second only to Pierre.
Total comp last fiscal year: $39 million.
Julia knew she had a reputationwhat was her latest nickname?
As Tangerine’s user count continued to explode, journalists sought a female executive to quoteplease, any woman!
She looked back out at the crowd.
She could sense Libby hover- ing behind, waiting to speak.
She turned to the room, to the assistants, the planner.
Weeks later each would receive a handwritten note thanking them for their contribution.
In the room were no bridesmaids, no sisters clutching at modest bouquets.
“I’m ready,” she said.
The next afternoon, Julia sat with Leo.
The wedding had been lovely, of course.
Lovely, charming, inspiringJulia’s frequently deployed descriptors, used for everything from baby showers to politicians.
Her nuptials conducted beneath two willows, the pool’s mid-afternoon reflection casting a gleam.
It’d been a month since she and Leo last met.
A year earlier, when Leo announced he was moving, Julia was alarmed.
But since his ar- rival, Leo had mostly left her alone.
Their meetings were brief, quiet lunches at her house or empty restaurants, as she passed interesting gossip.
She and Leo sat on the deck outside her suite, a table between them.
Leo was drooped with his head against the chair’s back, eyes ringed with red.
His left hand slowly stroked his stomach, as if easing some inner queasiness.
“Drink too much last night?”
Julia asked, amused.
“I’m getting older, yes?
I know that’s your implication.”
“You should probably wait until the evening to indulge again.
If you do.”
She rose and retrieved a pitcher of water.
“Thank you,” Leo said as she poured.
“Charlie seems nice,” he added.
“He is nice,” she agreed.
Leo set down the glass.
Julia suppressed a smile.
She pretended to be insulted, resistant, but secretly began her endeavor immediately.
She met Charlie through a friend, because she now had friends, because guess what?
Athena, an Israeli biologist who ran a gene-mapping company, had come up to her at a party.
Murmuring: “HaveI got a man for you.”
At the time, Julia already had a semi-boyfriend.
When she recalled how she’d first appeared in California, wearing her neon tracksuit (tracksuit!)
as she hiked Rancho San Antonio, mascara clumped around her eyesshe wanted to die.
Why hadn’t Leo helped?
Why get a voice coach and an acting teacher but not a stylist?
But men didn’t think of such things.
Zack was fine, and Julia could picture herself married to himmaybe.
And then Athena brought over Charlie.
Charlie: dark blond hair, perfect American teeth, like a white picket fence in his mouth.
Julia was five nine and he was half a head taller, even when she was in heels.
He touched the area.
“Is that what you do?”
“Do I surf professionally, you mean?”
I’m a doctor.
“But I already know.”
That had been the start.
The draw was that he did not care.
Because how often in life did you get exactly what you want?
How rare was it not only to find love, but for the person to love you back?
She had chosen him.
Leo was fussing about with a fork, hovering over the food.
Leo speared into the dragon fruit, nibbling suspiciously at its edges.
“It’s good,” Julia said.
“Even better in Thailand.”
He wagged a finger.
“Don’t forget we come from the same place.”
Julia kicked the table.
“How’s business?”
she asked, before re- gretting the question.
“It’s fine.”
He crumpled a piece of bresaola into his mouth.
“Perhaps you might share some thoughts about marriage,” she said instead.
“Any guidance, tips for success.”
Julia was actually curious to hear his answer.
“Guidance,” Leo repeated.
He made another pass at the meats, his fork darting for the duck confit.
“What’s to say?
Marriage is just power constantly being renegotiated.”
This was all he had to offer?
Sometimes Julia thought Leo might be losing it.
Late forties wasn’t too young for a midlife crisis, right?
“Well, you’re not married, anyway,” she teased.
“What we do is important.
Sometimes I wonder if you forget.
Who you truly work for.”
“I’ve done everything you’ve asked.
The wedding was exactly as you wanted.”
Leo cut a banana into neat slivers.
“And now that the wedding’s finished, we’ll be asking more of you.”
She fought her temper.
How much dirt had she passed along over the years?
A tech CEO’s drug problem.
The Lockheed executive sleeping with his brother’s wife.
An attorney general with real es- tate dreams and credit card debt.
Wallet fantasies, Leo called them.
“As you should.
As you will continue to do.”
I just got married yesterday, dickhead.She wondered why he was being such a hard-ass.
What did Leo want?
“We want you to run a deep search on some people.”
“We need information,” Leo said.
Depositing a slice of banana into his mouth.
“On a group of individuals.
All their Tangerine data: messages, browsing, search activity.”
Julia dug her nails into her thigh.
Though it wasn’t the privacy that was her main concern.
“I can’t get caught.
If I’m caught, my career’s over.”
“So don’t get caught.”
“It’s harder than that, you understand?
What you want, it isn’t easy.
Otherwise everyone would do it.”
“If I believed my requests easy, I could send anyone.
Train any nobody from off the street.
“But instead I picked you, being unsaid.I picked you, and now it’s time for payment.
“II’ll see what’s possible.”
They both knew this meant she would do it.
With a short grunt he stood and reached for the coffee.
“We also want you to start transferring data from Tangerine’s servers.”
The hot pit of temper inside her gut instantly re-flared.
“This was never part of the arrangement.
It places me at risk.”
“We don’t wantallthe server data,” Leo argued as he poured.
As if this were even possible.
“Our requests would be specific.
All queries coming from Tel Aviv over a certain weekend, for example.”
Julia shook her head, more violently this time.
And what would they do if she were caught?
What responsibility would they take, other than to say that yet again a woman had messed up?
“Is there anything else you’re planning to request?”
“If so, tell it to me now.
All of it.”
Leo blinked at her.
“We also want access to FreeTalk.
Messages and location.”
For a moment Julia was unable to speak.
“No,” she said.
Julia didn’t like Sean or Johan, but better two dudes than one woman.
“What’s impossible about it?”
Leo actually looked curious.
“Pierre promised Sean and Johan total autonomy.
FreeTalk’s technical infrastructure is separate from Tangerine’s.
As is its management.
It was one of the key deal points of the acquisition.”
“You’ll change their mind.
You’re good at that.”
“This isn’t something you’ve got the option to propel me to deliver through flattery.
I can’t.”
“Yes you’ve got the option to.”
And then quietly: “You will.”
A bubble of hate, for his humiliating her with a direct order.
“What’s it all for?
Some kind of grand plan?”
“You’ve been watching too many movies.
This isn’t a one-time request.
There will be an ongoing expectation.”
“It must be for something.”
“You have development cycles at work, do you not?
Periods where you invest, spend to create products.
Eventually though, your goal is for such products to earn money.”
Taking her silence for assent, Leo continued: “All our rivals are investing in technology.
The political situation in the West is, at best, unstable.
You understand you’ve already been extended a long period of dormancy?
For years, I pushed the SPB to leave you alone, let you rise.
And now you have.
They’re impatient, Julia.
It’s only fair they see some return.”
She shoved her legs against the chair.
“I like my life.
I’ve earned it.”
“No one’s taking away your life.
In fact, it would only c’mon me if you flew even higher.
What a lot of fun that’d be, yes?
All we’re asking is that you share some back.
With the country that brought you here.”
That you takehow did you put it?anynobodyoff the street, and they end up as COO?
Twelve-hour days, seven days a week, for years.
Hundreds of others, working just as hard to try and take my position.”
“What do you want me to say, thank you?
Your country thanks you in advance.”
Julia pushed away from the table and stood.
“Are we done?”
Leo gaped at her, surprised.
In all their years together, Julia had never ended a conversation.
It had always been Leo who called, Leo who asked, Leo who left and came.
“You clean up,” Julia said, and then went inside and shut the door.
“It’s quite possibly an excellent opportunity for networking” was how Tara presented things.
“It’s really in the chance encounters that personal connections are made.”
Though Alice hadn’t argued.
“Especially not the only woman on my team.”
“Can I ask why I’m not meeting expectations?”
Alice had asked meekly.
“You might be surprised.
As obviously you’re technically proficient.”
the gender ratios).
“Engineering acumen is valuable.
But to thrive on my team, you must also demonstrate what’s referred to assoft skills.”
“Is this because I didn’t attend the last team builder?”
“This isn’t about one thing,” Tara said crossly.
“It’s more a question of cultural fit.”
Alice knew the next question expected from her.
“How do I improve?”
“Be more present.
She desperately wished for some guidance on how toempowerherself in this situation.
“Did you see this latest from Julia?”
He had a seam- less voice, the kind used for voice-over work in commercials.
She claims it’ll be more efficient.
I think half the time the bitch doesn’t understand what she’s talking about.”
You cannot say words like ‘bitch’ anymore.”
“You know Pierre’s going to cave.
We can get out.
Do a new thing.
I hate this corporate shit.”
“We don’t fully vest for another year.”
Johan’s voice was crisp and robotic.
“It is not much to wait, in the scheme of life.”
“Oh,Jesus.”
Sean’s boots batted each other in agitation.
“What do you need the stock for?
I thought you were all about modest liv- ing.
Driving around in your minivan.”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t respect money,” Johan said primly.
“As I recall, you made the final decision to sell.”
“I know, I know.
But now I’ve got regrets, okay?
So how do I fucking repent?”
There was a pause in the chatter, and she forced herself out from under the table.
“Does one of you have a dog?”
“A dog?”
Johan finally echoed, still struggling to make eye contact.
“Yes, I have a dog.
A mountain dog.”
Then, as if this were an embarrassing revelation: “I bought him for my children.”
“Do you bring it to work?”
“Well, it’s been chewing on the cords.
It ate the phone cord down to the wire, so that’s why it doesn’t work.”
“Oh,” Johan said.
Alice gestured with both hands toward the frayed wire, as if she were a game-show host.
“I can order a tube, if you want.
It’ll go around the wires so that a dog can’t chew through them.”
“But then won’t the dog just chew through the tube?”
“How big is it?”
“Heis a good size,” Johan said, holding a hand level with his waist.
“In America, dogs are too small.”
“Housing is expensive,” Alice said.
“Not everyone has the space.”
The two men exchanged a look, as if silently conferring over the source of a foul odor.
“Okay,” Alice said.
“you’re able to tell your admin if you change your mind about the tube.
I’ll have a new cord sent.”
She gathered her laptop, her pen, the notepad she had uselessly taken out and not opened.
“Jesus,” she heard Sean exhale as she left.
Alice returned to her desk.
Instead, in the evenings she would work until seven and then drive home.
Alice liked this routine.
After her review with Tara, however, Alice had begun performing the scans with furious regularity.
She checked the report.
There was high activity in one of the servers, the graph spiking in a jagged Matterhorn.
Server 251, located in the Dublin data center.
Alice opened her eyes.
Server 251’s grid reflected back the same high activity.
“Hey,” she said to Larry.
“What sort of person?”
Alice had replied weakly, and Larry said: “Difficulty in social interactions.”
Looking proud, like a doctor nailing an esoteric diagnosis.
“Hey,” Alice said again.
She tapped him on the shoulder.
Larry, who she knew had been deliberately ignoring her, flinched at this unwelcome contact.
She nodded at her screen, which displayed the current loads of 251.
Larry reached back and snatched a bag of dried plums off his desk.
He chewed and then spat a seed into his hand, flinging it into her garbage.
Alice suppressed the urge to verify that the seed had actually made it into the bin.
“There’s a lot of data being transferred.
Doesn’t look automatic, either.
Does that seem off to you?”
“I don’t know.
“Well, should I do something about it?”
“Because who cares?”
Larry turned back to his desk.
The usual Tangerine life cycle, where executives were hired and products developed.
Products were then canceled and executives fired, and everything saved, for potential lawsuits.
Yet something about 251 nagged at her.
It was the amount of data, as well as its timing.
It was close to six; there usually wasn’t much activity at this hour.
Alice turned to Larry again.
“Can we check who’s doing the transfer?”
“Use the report,” he said, not looking at her.
“Can you do it for me?
I’m not supposed to.”
To run specific reports required a higher level of access than Alice had been approved for.
Larry rotated in his chair.
“You cannot?”
I’m not senior enough.”
“I’m busy.
You wait, I do on Monday.”
Though Alice was now performing her own calculations.
Plus Larry would then pretend he’d forgotten the conversation altogether, and refuse to initiate the reports anyway.
“How about after you’re done?
I’ll wait.”
“Why you not going home?”
“Home to your husband.”
“I’m not married.”
“You live nearby?”
“Yes, in Cupertino.”
Where she’d spent the last two years.
“I don’t know if I could do a long-distance relationship,” Alice said.
Cheri mostly spent her weekends preparing for and then attending lavish parties in the Bay Area and beyond.
She was invited on yacht holidays to Croatia, ski breaks in Deer Valley.
“I live with a roommate,” Alice said to Larry, to preempt his next question.
“I help you in five minutes,” he muttered.
Alice manually flagged both the server and the data center, to mark them so she could easily return.
When she returned to her chair, Larry was gone.
The edge of the box bit against her palm.
“Crap,” she said in a low voice.
Alice looked at his desk.
It was messy, as usual, with stacks of printouts and half-eaten bags of nuts.
Alice sat back at her desk.
She returned to 251 and found it lit up, an outline of neon skyscrapers against black sky.
In the web connection tool, Alice clicked on 251, which brought up a set of diagnostics.
She chose one that displayed all eighty-six devices currently connected to the server.
Only one machine was drawing an abnormal amount of datanearly two hundred times more than the others.
In all her time in support, Alice had never encountered an unknown rig in the connection.
She went to the employee database and entered User 555 in the ID field.
Alice considered the situation.
She could go home, she knew.
Change into sweats, eat coconut cake.
Alice packed her box of food into her backpack.
She reexamined Larry’s desk and, on impulse, swiped an unopened bag of dark chocolate almonds.
Craning her neck, swiveling revolutions in her chair, she stared at the ceiling until it blurred.
The feeling was loneliness, she knew.
Even though it was late, she wasn’t ready to go home.
She returned to her screen.
Alice found the file and ran a query for User 555.
Next, Alice navigated to the main Tangerine site.
If User 555 was missing from the employee database, then likely their Tangerine account was also empty.
There might be something thougha friend, a phototo hint at their identity.
Alice logged in as User 555.
She blinked and looked at the screen.
“But you signed a postnup,” Cameron said.
Seated across from his soon-to-be ex at Gary Danko, where they’d had their first date.
He ran a palm over his still full hair.
Let’s be reasonable.”
“Fuck the postnup,” said Elaine, who unfortunately did look older.
She speared into her branzino and then pointed the fork at him, white flesh dangling from its tongs.
“F–kreason.”
The Ekstrom split escalated.
He had proof, Cameron added.
But really, was fighting over such unpleasantries what was best for The Children?
And it was here, exhausted after a protracted negotiation with Unilever, that Cameron lost it.
“I’ve seen your messages!”
he shouted, spittle landing on the head of Leena Das, a Tangerine director seated to his right.
And then, no, a well-meaning friend, a secret sympathizer.
For which users, a reporter asked.
For every user," Cameron said.
At first, Pierre was pissed by the uproar.
And now you want to complain?
Their privacy isn’t a big deal, right?
He stewed and raged and then allowed PR to draft him notes for a statement:
We are sorry.
We are a good company.
We are a learning company.
There will be no more God Mode again.
Except that seven years later, Alice was looking at God Mode.
Its screen flickered as if it were alive; she stared at it, unbelieving.
The office was empty apart from a cleaner on the other side of the floor.
She returned to the screen.
The inter- face was clunky and old, with a single search bar.
She typed: Alice Lu.
Her mouse hovered over the search bar.
She hesitated, and then typed: User 555.
She chose the first available link, the one that showed the last ten searches.
The screen flashed, populated.
Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit.
From IMPOSTOR SYNDROME by Kathy Wang, published by Custom House.
Copyright 2021 by Kathy Wang.
