Part 2

Alex took a seat near the barred window, looking out. How long would it take Sal's brother, Mario Marino, to send someone for her? Would he, even? Her still mostly drug-fogged brain refused to focus and her hands trembled. Despite the blaring activity bells marking time, Alex couldn't be sure how many days passed as they blended into a nightmare of nausea and sameness. One of the other patients came up to her and asked about checkers, but Alex merely shook her head and the woman wandered off again.

She was still sitting at the window when the limousine pulled up. Her hand touched the glass, willing the mirage to stay and be real, yet terrified it would be. She remembered the gun barrel to her head all too clearly. What deal, what future-destroying job would Mario come up with? By now, he would have reviewed the security camera footage. Would he want her to be a bodyguard? An assassin? A spy? Whatever it was, Alex was certain it wouldn't be legal.

"This isn't the future I want," Alex muttered to herself. "I need to tell him to go away. That I've changed my mind. I'll talk with the damn psychiatrist and make shit up and get myself out." She saw Milo Paul and one of the other Marino family lawyers get out of the limousine. They were both carrying briefcases. "What have I got myself into?"

One of the patients, walking by, giggled, and whispered conspiratorially, "Talking to yourself is bad... bad... bad... crazy cuckoo... crazy cuckoo..." The patient stumbled away.

Alex swore and stood up, running her fingers through her hair. She glanced down at the hospital gown and slippers. Not the most confidence-inspiring attire for the upcoming interview. She went to wait by the door, trying to calm her nerves. They were unlikely to shoot her in the hospital with witnesses, weren't they? Would they at least listen to her first?

After what seemed like an especially long time, a pair of orderlies came to escort her to the psychiatrist's office. All three were seated when Alex entered with the orderlies, but both lawyers stood. The doctor did not. The orderlies continued to hold her arms.

"Miss Smith," said Milo. He nodded at her deferentially.

"Mr. Paul, Mr. Dioli." Alex greeted them, "Grazie per essere venuti." Thank you for coming.

Milo turned to the psychiatrist. "I need to speak to my client alone, please."

The doctor shook his head. "It's against hospital policy and I don't recommend it. She's unstable and dangerous. She seriously injured two of our orderlies. I can't guarantee your safety." His hand moved under his desk.

"We accept the risk," Milo said.

Luciano Dioli added, "Get out," with a significant sharp tilt of his head toward the door.

The psychiatrist said caustically, "It's your life," and left, taking the orderlies with him. The ease with which he relinquished his office more than adequately described the conversation they'd had prior to her arrival. Mafia lawyers had a blessed knack for intimidation.

Milo, seeing Alex's shaking hands, asked, "Are you ok? Here, have a seat." He helped her to his chair.

"Kill the recorder behind the desk," Luciano said to Milo, turning his chair so he could more comfortably talk with Alex. He switched the conversation back to Italian. "Miss Smith, are you under the influence of drugs?"

"No," she lied. She was clear enough. Her heart pounded. She felt like she was facing a loaded gun already.

"Good. I have papers for you to sign." Luciano reached for his briefcase.

"Lu," Milo cut in, shaking his head in censure. "Miss Smith, I represent you and Lu here represents the Marino family. Sal left me to you in his will."

Alex blinked in confusion and yelped, "He what?"

"He set up a trust fund for my employment. Before you sign anything, we should go over it in detail." Milo quirked a smile at Luciano.

Luciano, having retrieved a stack of papers from his briefcase, handed these to Alex. "These authorize a transfer of funds to Mario Marino and the family trust."

Alex went through the pages, slower than usual, due to her foggy brain. She was having a hard time comprehending what she was seeing. It didn't help that the papers were unsteady in her hand and the letters jiggled and refused to focus. "Why am I giving money to Mr. Marino? He's got my accounts. There's nothing in them, except a few hundred dollars for groceries, and well, there's the one for rent, I suppose." Then she got to the pages on asset transfers. "I mean, he can have it all, of course, it's Sal's, but this doesn't make any sense."

Milo quirked an eyebrow. "Seriously?" Both Milo and Luciano gazed at her closely, reminding her a little of the F.B.I. agents' intense scrutiny. "Sal left you everything."

"He what?!" Alex's heart stopped beating. When it restarted, she demanded, "Give me a pen."

"Don't do anything hasty," Milo said quickly, "I have some alternatives to that document and you can't possibly know exactly how much there actually is until you review it. The Marino family will not be..."

Alex interrupted him. "The Marino family is going to kill me." She wondered why she wasn't dead already.

Milo shook his head. "If you die of anything other than old age and natural causes, all of this goes to donations. There's absolutely nothing the Marino family can do. It's all legally sound and above board."

"It's not mine. I don't want any of it." Alex finished going through the pages.

Luciano handed her a pen, shrugging at Milo without apology, "It's in my best interest that she signs it."

"Miss Smith, as your lawyer, I'm telling you we need to go over that." Milo sat down in the psychiatrist's chair on the other side of the desk.

Alex was already scribbling in her signature on each page. "No, no delays. How many things have become defunct or overdue with this money sitting in legal limbo? It's been months. I have no idea what Sal was thinking when he did this, but it's not right." To Luciano, Alex said, "You tell him that. You tell Mr. Marino I didn't know anything about this and that I'm deeply sorry for any trouble it's caused the family. If I had known, I would have talked Sal out of it. I swear." She handed the papers to him. Luciano had already signed the witness lines. "Take this to him. Right now. I don't want any doubt in his mind that I had anything to do with this."

Luciano put the papers back in his briefcase and stood. He glanced once at Milo and then left. Milo did not get up.

"Milo, what was Sal thinking?" Alex put her head in her hands and covered her eyes, near tears.

"That's not everything, Miss," Milo said gently.

Alex wiped at her nose with the back of her hand. "I'm afraid to ask what else. "

"Pass me my briefcase. I have a copy of the will for you to look at."

Her hands were shaking so badly she nearly dropped the briefcase handing it to him. The briefcase bumped and knocked over a jar of pens and pencils the psychiatrist had on his desk. "What did Sal tell you about me?" Alex asked Milo. Neither of them reached to pick up the spilled writing utensils.

"That you would sign over the money and assets immediately. That you didn't need me to go over any legal documents." Milo opened the case and passed her another stack of papers. He waited while she went through those. "He also left you nontransferable things. Me, for example. Also his house, his store, and everything in those. His own personal bank account. It's all in trusts so the State can't touch it either."

Alex thought she might vomit and would have if she hadn't already completely emptied her stomach just after breakfast. Her stomach was still busy trying to leave her body through her elbow. She blew her nose into her hospital gown sleeve instead. "Mario Marino is going to have me assassinated."

"No he's not." Milo paused. "At least not immediately. He can't."

"Why not?" Alex couldn't get the blurred text on the page to come into focus.

"Sal named you his heir," Milo explained.

She was obviously missing something. "What does that mean?" Alex flipped the stack of papers back to the beginning and handed them back to Milo. Maybe she could decipher the blurred text later?

Milo put the papers back in his briefcase. "It makes you the head of the family. Until you name your own heir, Mario can't be guaranteed to take over. There are several other men equally qualified who would jump at the chance. Mario is stuck with you."

Alex bit her lower lip. "When did Sal do all this?"

"The day after his birthday. Mario was livid, in case you are wondering. Sal told him about naming you the next head of family, but not about the money and assets. We drew that up separately."

Alex winced.

"Then two days later, he's shot and you're the only witness. Then you go missing. You should have called sooner," Milo admonished. "The coincidence is incriminating."

"I called as soon as I was able." Alex sincerely hoped Milo would believe that. Her life depended on Milo and Sal's brother believing that.

"If it helps any, Miss, Sal told me that you are a gift to the family, even if we don't know it yet. Sal said that he was leaving you all the money and assets so Mario would know he could trust you. He said he was leaving the family to you because he knew you'd be good for them." Milo paused and then continued, "Don't name Mario your heir yet. Take the same deal Sal had; a small stipend from the family while letting Mario continue to run everything. It's all smoke and mirrors. Everyone knows no one in the family would follow your orders anyway. You aren't family and, forgive me, aren't a man."

Alex recalled he'd been the one to destroy the video surveillance at the gun range. He'd surely viewed at least some of them to get the right ones. He was probably also responsible for the police evidence she and Sal had destroyed. She had no choice but to trust him. "Can you get me out of here?"

Milo's eyes twitched the slightest bit and Alex hoped she hadn't offended him. Milo's voice was unchanged as he responded, "Yes, I have three choices for you as foster homes. All family, of course. Whoever you stay with, though, gains some degree of power within the family. Sal didn't expect to die before you were legally an adult, so he didn't make any arrangements."

"Put me in whichever home Mario wants me in." Alex had no idea how she was going to survive this. "Sal told me I could trust you. Are you going to be ok? Will there be backlash on you for this?"

"My stepmother was a Marino. I'll be fine." Milo took out his cell phone and hit one of the speed-dials. "Mr. Marino, Miss Smith says she will stay with whichever family you'd prefer. Yes. I understand. I'll take care of it." He disconnected. "Rico Marino it is. Sal said he's told you who's who in the family?"

Alex wiped at her nose again. "Yeah, he did."

"Do you have any more questions for me? I can go get the paperwork for the foster family in place so we can get you out of here later today." Milo seemed very calm and certain and his attitude helped soothe Alex's panic although it didn't alleviate it.

Alex rubbed her stomach and willed it to settle. "Thank you, Milo," she said, more from terror than politeness. She couldn't offend him or any Marino in the slightest way.

Switching back to English, Milo said, "It'll be ok, Miss." He stood.

Nothing would ever be ok again, Alex thought. Her only friend was gone and he'd dropped her into a pit of deadly vipers. Why had Sal done that to her? Did he really think his family would tolerate her? Alex had a moment of inspiration. Could she test her status in a non-deadly manner? Alex whispered, "I do have one other thing, Milo."

"Yes?" Milo stopped picking up his briefcase, giving her his complete attention.

Alex swallowed and made herself say, "The painting I gave Sal for his birthday. Do you know where it is?"

Milo raised an eyebrow. "Yes, Mario has it at the restaurant."

Alex frowned. Sal could have at least taken it home. Her voice was barely audible as she stated, "I want it destroyed."

"I'll see what I can do," was Milo's steady response. As that was neither a yes nor a no, Alex could place her status as ambiguous at least, which was better than a reply of "You don't get to ask for things. "

The psychiatrist and orderlies were waiting outside. To the psychiatrist, Milo said, "I'll be back later this afternoon with a court order to have my client released. She's not to be given more drugs. None. Get her clothes and have her ready."

The psychiatrist frowned unhappily. "I'm going to file a formal protest. This patient is not safe to release. Not to herself or others. She has serious psychological issues that need to be addressed."

Milo did not rise to the bait. "That will be our problem, not yours. Thank you for the use of your office. We took the liberty of turning off your recording device to save your batteries for patient sessions."

The orderlies escorted Alex back to the common room and Alex immediately went over to the window. The limousine was still there. Was Sal's brother in it or had he just sent Milo and Luciano? Did Mario Marino believe she didn't know about this? What had Sal done to her? She saw Milo come out of the building and get into the limousine. She was unable to see who else was inside.

Milo returned that afternoon as promised. The staff hadn't returned her clothes yet so there was some scramble while they did that. They'd also forced her to take yet another mind-dulling, "calming", sedative so she was particularly brain-fogged and uncoordinated. Her hands hadn't stopped shaking and the orderlies had to help her dress. The actual checkout went very quickly and Alex found herself outside in the bright Alabama afternoon sun.

Milo helped her to the limousine, not commenting on her inability to walk steadily. He assisted her into the back and climbed in himself. They were the only two passengers. This limousine was obviously rented with a somewhat gaudy interior that was entirely seats and without a food or drink counter.

"Take me to Sal's grave, please," Alex mumbled in Italian. She leaned back, closed her eyes, and fell asleep.

"We're at a gas station, Miss. Do you need to use the restroom?" It took her a moment to comprehend the sentences. Milo was speaking to her and waving his hand in front of her eyes.

Alex whimpered and nodded and Milo assisted her out of the limousine. The sun had set, but the heat hit her like she had just stepped into an oven.

"Are you ok enough to go by yourself or do you need help?" Milo's voice sounded unnaturally loud.

Alex leaned against the limousine. The brightly glittering lights of the gas station made her head hurt. "I'll be fine. Just give me a minute. What time is it?"

Milo glanced at his watch. "Just after 9 pm, Miss. We're still in Alabama though, so it's really 10 pm our time. "

It took Alex a lot longer than a minute to use the facilities, but she felt better once she'd splashed her face with cold water.

When she came out finally, Milo offered, "Can I get you a drink or anything to eat? You slept through dinner."

Alex wasn't sure she'd be able to eat. "Um. Any kind of fresh fruit and water, please. If I can afford it?"

Milo gave her an odd look. "You have just over half a million dollars, not including any physical assets, or any cash Sal has stored inside his house. I think we can find you some fruit."

It was his use of "we" that made Alex actually focus. Near the front of the car, she saw both a driver and a bodyguard. She felt like she should know their names, but she was too groggy to think about it. Milo sent the driver inside for food. The driver was also wearing guns under his coat so he was also likely a bodyguard.

Once they were seated inside the limousine again, Alex felt like she should say something, anything to break the awkward silence. "You handle all my finances?"

"I took care of everything for Sal. It's up to you whether you want me to continue doing so for you. I have all your records ready for whenever you'd like to go over them." Milo politely did not point out that she was clearly not coherent enough to review them at that moment.

Alex wondered when she would wake up. She and Sal could have a hearty laugh over this nightmarish dream. "So what is it that you do exactly? Sal told me you were his man of affairs."

Milo replied, "Whatever you need me to, actually. In addition to handling finances and legal issues, I'm a capable bodyguard. I can take care of anything that annoys you. I can procure things, legal or otherwise. I'm family."

She digested this. She wondered if he could get what she needed for the first battery. She weighed in with, "I wish you could get Sal back for me."

Milo sighed. "I miss him, too. He was a good man."

The driver returned with a bag of assorted fruit (likely every fresh fruit they had in the convenience market) and a bag of different types of bottled water. "We'll be underway shortly. Would you be interested in stopping at a hotel for the evening or shall we drive straight through?"

Milo looked to Alex, who then asked, "When is Mario expecting us?"

Milo answered, "Whenever we get there will be soon enough."

Alex looked back at the driver. "If you get tired, stop, otherwise, go on through."

"Yes, Miss." He closed the door. A moment later they heard him open the front and get in. The car began to move.

"This is going to be very strange," Alex commented. "Thank you for helping me navigate it. I still feel like I'm walking on a tightrope above a deadly pit. "

"Every day that passes, the less close to death you'll get, I think. Give Mario a chance to get used to you," Milo advised.

Alex lifted her hand and wiggled her fingers, noticing how uncoordinated they were. Then she realized what she was doing and lowered her hand back onto her knee. "Do we know which family killed Sal yet?"

Milo pretended not to notice her hand. "Yes, I think so. Mario will know for sure. I don't think whoever did it realized exactly how much damage they'd do. No one expected the financial glitch."

Alex winced. "How badly was the family hurt by that?"

"We'll recover," Milo reported. "There were some penalties and overdue bills, but no property was lost. Another month and we'd've had to start selling things."

Alex was going to have to pay the family back before she could even think about her business. "I should be able to recoup the losses selling antiques."

"The store was pretty well destroyed," Milo informed her.

"I know. I was there." Alex pushed the memory that tried to resurface out of her mind. "I was actually thinking I could go to some of the auctions and resell things." She yawned and continued tiredly, "I know what to get and who to sell to. Sal trained me. It shouldn't take too long. Just give me an amount and I'll get it. If I can pay back the family, maybe they won't hate me as much."

"It's an interesting idea, but while Sal's inheritance is fully protected, anything you earn would go straight to the State." Milo spoke gently. "Foster care doesn't grant financial autonomy. You should avoid being adopted due to family politics. Hmmm... Although given your unknown past, that would get tied up in a search for your parents until it was too late to matter."

"Are you responsible for my unknown past?" Alex needed to know who else knew about her and this was the best opportunity she was likely to get.

"It was Sal's wish, yes." Milo's eyes shifted away from her briefly. He'd definitely seen the police records Alex and Sal had burned.

"Thank you." Alex leaned back and closed her eyes.

Milo added, "I'm it, though. It was just me and Sal. No one else saw anything. You'd have to have an eye-witness step forward who recognizes you and you look a lot different now than you did when you were eight. The hackers that were hired to delete the data don't have any link back to the family, and I personally made sure they kept no records."

Alex nodded and forced herself to sit up again, realizing she hadn't tried eating anything despite asking for food. She didn't want to insult Milo or the driver and so she dutifully dug through the bag with the fruit and selected the best looking apple. Then she took out some water. She unscrewed the lid and sipped at it. Her stomach swirled threateningly. She took a bite of the apple and chewed it really well before swallowing. It also landed in her stomach like a tornado. She set them aside.

Milo frowned. "What did they give you today? "

Alex hoped he would understand. She didn't want to throw up again. "I don't know. Whatever they've had me on since I called Mario has been giving me the shakes really bad. I can't think clearly."

"You were incoherent when Lu and I stopped by a few days ago," Milo said.

Alex blinked, confused. "You came by?"

"Yes," Milo confirmed. "The doctor gave us a tour of you chained to that bed in a straight jacket. You were mumbling to yourself and didn't answer us when we tried to talk to you. I've never wanted to voluntarily kill someone before. That doctor, though. Lu stopped me."

"I have no recollection of you coming by." That scared her. "What was I saying?"

"I don't know. It sounded like math, maybe." Milo helped himself to one of the water bottles from her bag.

Alex groaned. There was only one math formula she was likely to recite. The last person she wanted to know her new physics formula was that awful psychiatrist. Why couldn't she have been given into the care of someone who would actually listen to her? "Was there surveillance?"

Milo rubbed at his chin. "I'm not sure."

"Shit." Alex needed to believe that Milo was telling the truth about being in her employ now. "Ok, your priority once you drop me off is to go find out. Destroy any video of me, any recordings that psychiatrist might have. All of it."

"Can do." After a few minutes, Milo prompted, "So... math?"

Alex reached over to the limousine's control panel and dimmed the lights a bit. Then she put her feet up on the opposite seat and leaned back. "I've been working on a few things I don't want anyone to know."

Milo turned in his seat to get more comfortable. "You don't want anyone to know you can do math?"

"Something like that," Alex glossed over. The last thing she needed was her perpetual energy formula getting out. "Sal and I had an agreement that I'd not draw any attention to myself." She dozed off for a while until the car went over a bump and woke her up. Then it hit her - she thought she'd been tied down two days. "What day is it today?"

When Milo told her, Alex closed her eyes again in disturbed silence. A week. She'd been out for a week.

As requested, the limousine brought Alex and Milo directly to the cemetery. It was raining with thick dark clouds obscuring the midday early spring sun. Alex asked Milo which grave and asked him to wait when he pointed. She didn't take the umbrella Milo offered .

Leaving Milo behind, Alex walked over to the tall stone plaque in front of the family crypt. The plaque was a beautiful orange-hued marble engraved simply with his name and the dates. Although wet, the flowers were recently changed and were barely wilting at all.

"Sal, I remember everything," Alex whispered. "As long as I'm alive, you aren't gone."

Alex sat down next to the stone and rested her head on the plaque. She didn't care that she was sitting in mud or that the rain was going to soak her completely. That was fitting. She was drenched when she met him. She'd be drenched when she said goodbye. The thought made her cry and once she started crying, she couldn't stop.

Eventually, Milo came over with the umbrella. He helped her stand and walked her back to the car.

"I'm too wet to get in," Alex said at last, wiping at her face, unknowingly smearing more mud on her face from her hand.

"Don't worry about it. Here, you can sit on my coat." Milo took off his suit coat and laid it out on the seat. "I called Mario and told him we'd be going by Rico's house before coming to see him. We moved all your clothes from the apartment over there and you can get changed."

Alex turned the compartment's heat up to maximum and sat there, shivering. After a few minutes, she warmed up enough to think and asked, "Isn't your suit coat more expensive than this limo seat?"

Milo grinned. "It is, but I didn't want you standing outside any longer and you looked like you might argue. That rain is cold. My coat will clean or it will be replaced. You, on the other hand, can't be replaced."

Rico Marino met them at the door of a narrow, two-story row house in desperate need of renovation. Rico was a comfortably-sized businessman whose facial wrinkles looked like he spent most of his time being cheerful and laughing. He had a pronounced widows peak hairline that didn't look at all like Sal or Mario. "Welcome to our home, Miss."

Alex stepped up and shook his hand. She needed to make these people like her. She just wished she didn't feel like vomiting at the man's feet. "Thank you for taking me in, Mr. Marino. I won't be any trouble. You'll hardly know I'm here."

"It's no trouble. I'm glad to be helpful to the family." He called over his shoulder, "Emma, they're here."

His wife appeared in the small hallway to greet them. Alex saw Rico wipe his hand unobtrusively on his pants in her peripheral vision. Whatever Emma had planned to say, she cut off when she saw Alex's clothes and face. "You're soaking! Let's get you some dry clothes. Your room is this way." Emma led Alex up the narrow staircase which became an equally narrow hallway. Milo stayed to talk with Rico and the two of them moved farther into the house out of earshot.

Alex repeated her thank you to Mrs. Marino.

"Nothing to worry about, Miss. We have the extra room."

"Please call me Alex and tell your husband to do the same. I don't want to be a burden."

Emma pointed out the bathroom a few doors down from the room she identified as Alex's. The bedroom was small, but they'd brought in her desk and drawing supplies. It only had a twin-size bed and tiny window, but it was clean. Alex thanked her again and Emma retreated back downstairs.

Alex crossed to the closet and saw the clothes Sal had given her and she bit her lip to keep from crying again. She picked out a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. From the dresser, she retrieved undergarments and a towel. She then went down the hall to the bathroom.

Her reflection in the mirror was terrifying. Her face was gaunt and bony and her eye sockets were sunken and dark. Her skin was a pasty grey, liberally smeared with mud. She stripped and put her wet clothes in the sink and turned on the shower. While she waited for the water to get warm, Alex rinsed out her clothes and wrung them out. She was quick in the shower, despite the lure of heat, and she used the shampoo and soap that were already in the shower and hoped that would be ok.

Alex wished she had her toothbrush. She used the comb on the sink. When she was done dressing again, her color wasn't quite as grey, but she still looked cadaverous. She took her damp clothes back to her room and draped them on the desk's chair to dry. She grabbed her light jacket and headed downstairs. She couldn't afford to irritate anyone by taking too long.

Alex found Milo and Rico in the small kitchen toward the back of the house, seated at a small worn wood table. The formica countertops were clear of everything except an expresso machine, breadbox, and bowl of fresh fruit. Alex pulled at her shirt, straightening it. She saw the table itself merely had a small flat dish with a variety of vitamins and prescription medications on it.

Milo immediately stood and with a simple parting nod to Rico, escorted her out. In the limousine, Alex tried to drink more water, but it just made her nauseous. She wasn't sure if she should blame nerves or post-medication.

"Would something else be better? I can get you anything," Milo observed quietly.

"Maybe later." Alex's insides swirled threateningly.

The restaurant was almost exactly as Alex remembered it - low light, white and red tablecloths, real china. Scattered bodyguards. Sal's brother, Mario, was at one of the back tables, surrounded by family in an informal meeting. There was something about one of the men standing there that troubled her, but Alex was too light-headed and brain-fogged to recognize what. She would have to figure out who he was later.

Everyone seemed to stare at them as Alex and Milo entered. Mario excused himself from his group and said something to one of the men, who then approached them. Mario himself disappeared into the back of the restaurant. The man nodded deferentially to Milo. To Alex, he said, "Come. He wants to talk to you."

Milo gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder and Alex followed the man into the back. Sal describing this particular family member snapped into focus in her memory. She knew the man's name, his wife and kids, his tendencies, his trustworthiness, and his weapons of choice. Alex wished she also had time to remember Sal describing everyone else in the restaurant. She inhaled deeply and continued along.

In the back of the restaurant, her escort knocked twice on a wooden door, waited for the gruff "Enter," and opened it, standing aside and letting Alex pass into the room. He closed the door again after her, staying on the outside. This room had a beautiful table, surrounded by six brown leather chairs. There were photographs of Italy on the windowless walls. It could have been a private dining room, except for the safe and lockable filing cabinets. Sal's brother was standing. Alex went over to one of the chairs and steadied herself by holding onto it. They stared at each other in silence.

Alex could see Sal's features on Mario's face. His eyes, the shape of his mouth and ears. Even Mario's stance reminded her of Sal's, except there was no warmth in Mario's gaze. He looked at her as if she were a particularly distasteful problem he had to solve, one that he'd prefer to put a bullet in and toss in the ocean somewhere. Dark circles under his eyes reflected his recent lack of sleep.

Alex began in Italian, "I would have saved him if I could have. I tried."

Mario's hard gaze didn't soften. "I have the security footage. For a while I thought you were quite the actress."

"I would have given my life for him, Mario," Alex said softly. "He was my only friend."

Mario sighed tiredly. "Sit down. It would be easier if I didn't believe you."

Alex carefully lowered herself into the chair she was holding on to and Mario sat across from her.

Mario frowned at her. "We have things that need to be taken care of for the family."

Alex nodded. "I'll do whatever you need me to. You have my full cooperation and support. Sal never should have done what he did and if I had known his intentions, I would have talked him out of it. I swear. "

"You'll name me heir at the next family meeting and pass the title back to me," Mario instructed coldly.

Alex didn't hesitate. "Absolutely." Her survival depended on him believing he could trust her and that she was valuable to keep alive. "As soon as I am able, I have every intention of repaying the family for all of the monetary losses incurred from this debacle."

Mario scoffed at that. Angrily, he growled, "You are a child and a girl. You cannot possibly begin to comprehend what this has done."

Alex, realizing she needed his respect, too, answered with an equally angry tone, "If Sal wanted me to look after his family, he only needed to ask. He didn't have to go through all this nonsense to tie me to you and the family."

"You? Look after us?" Mario scoffed.

"I'm going to be the richest person alive," she declared.

"Artists don't make that much, kid," Mario said derisively.

"Artist?" Alex was confused for a moment. "Oh. That painting. That wasn't art. Sal knew that. Didn't he tell you what it was?" She was trying to find out if he knew about the perpetual energy. Probably not, or he would already know her value, unless he didn't believe it, which was also possible.

"No. We didn't discuss it. I wondered why you gave him something that wasn't his type of thing at all." Mario looked like he wondered why they were talking about the painting at all.

Relieved, Alex lied, "It was a game, an eclectic mix of styles. A tribute of sorts to all the museums he kept taking me to. But that's irrelevant. As soon as I'm legally able, I'm going into business." Yes, let that painting be unimportant. Let it be destroyed.

"What kind of business?" Mario's voice held more than a little bit of contempt and condescension. He was already a formidable businessman.

Alex really needed this man to see her as an equal. She paced her reply to sound confident and determined. "I trusted Sal. I don't trust you. He worked with me on the business details. You, on the other hand... I know you want me dead and out of your life forever."

The corner of Mario's mouth lifted up in amusement in a way that so reminded Alex of Sal that she could have wept. "By all means, let us be honest with each other."

Alex continued, because amusement was a lot better than hatred. "It would be bad for the family if I died, but you don't know me well enough to realize that yet. All I ask is that you give me a chance." She breathed in deeply and pushed on. "Don't have me killed. I promise you my full support in anything you need from me. I'll stay out of your way. I won't ask for anything. I won't do or say anything to ever harm the family. As my wealth grows, I'll see the family gets its share. For Sal."

Mario stared at her in disbelief. "That's not what I expected you to say today. "

"Yeah, well, when I called you, I expected you to put me to work being a maid or a courier or something to pay for the rescue from the hospital." Alex very carefully avoided including bodyguard or assassin on that list.

Sal's brother rubbed his chin. "I'll see you tomorrow. We have a family meeting. Come beforehand and I will tell you what to say," he directed stonily.

Alex nodded and rose from the chair, clearly dismissed. She stumbled out and went in search of Milo. He was reading at a table. When she approached, he pointed at the chair opposite him, indicated that she should sit down, and waved at one of the waitresses. The waitress immediately brought a full plate of fine Italian food and set it in front of the empty chair. Alex sat down tiredly and stared at the mountain of food in dismay. No doubt the veal parmesan and spaghetti were worthy of a five-star restaurant. She took one of the slices of toasted garlic bread and tried a bite. It went into her stomach like a lump of clay, but at least it didn't spin and twist and make her feel like heaving. She nibbled a bit more.

Milo's finger remained in the book, marking the page, and he said quietly, "Luciano is taking care of that task you asked for. You need me here for tomorrow."

Alex inclined her head in acknowledgement. "Could you take me back to Rico's? I need sleep."

"After you eat," Milo said firmly.

"I can't eat this much, Milo."

"More than two bites of bread, at least. And drink some of this water." Milo pushed Alex's water glass toward her, and went back to reading his book. It wasn't rudeness, but a kind way not to demand more of her than she currently had to give.

Alex set the bread down and took the glass with both hands to keep it steady and drank. It helped to dissolve the clay-feeling of the bread. She ate more bread. Then she sipped more water. After a few more repeats of this, so very slowly, she tried a small bite of the veal. Indeed, it was exquisitely prepared and magnificent. With just a little bit at a time, and a lot of pauses, Alex managed to eat until she felt full although the plate was still mostly uneaten when she was finished. She ignored people staring at her curiously and noted people who looked at her with malice. The latter unfortunately outnumbered the previous.

Alex awoke around three in the morning, hungry again, but finally clearing up mentally. She rolled out of bed, changed into fresh clothes, grabbed her jacket, and tip-toed downstairs. She hit a single squeaky stair, went through her memory which was finally starting to function again, recalled where the other squeaks were, and avoided the rest of them. She went to the kitchen and took some fruit from the refrigerator. As an afterthought, she also tore off some bread from the loaf on the counter and pocketed that also.

By the door, Alex put on her shoes and slipped out into the pre-morning darkness. The night sounds still promised danger, yet were so comfortingly familiar. She followed the shadows to the antiques shop.

The shop's broken windows were boarded up and police tape was generously applied across the whole storefront, including the door. There was still glass in the street. Alex went around to the back, entered the combination to the lock, and went in. The storage area was a mess, with chalk outlines and blood where the men who'd come in the back died, but everywhere Alex looked, she could see Sal with perfect clarity as he moved around, unpacking, repacking, setting things aside for sale.

Alex moved farther into the store, turning up the heat in passing. She stopped in the bathroom to use it. There was dried blood on the hand towel where someone had washed their hands, but not well enough. She took a clean towel from under the sink and hung it up neatly after using it to dry her hands. The other towel she left draped on the sink.

Sal's office was ransacked. Papers were everywhere. The safe was cut open and any contents were long-gone. The file cabinet drawers were dumped on the floor. Alex left that mess and went out to the main store. That also was as she remembered it on that horrible day. Broken pottery, bullet-shredded furniture. More footprints in blood than she recalled. The large, dried puddle of red-brown that was all that remained of Sal was still there. The cash register was open and empty. Alex went back to the kitchen and started filling one of the large spaghetti pots with warm water. While she waited, she remembered her card from the Hamasaki family. To her delight, she found it still wedged in one of the box-storage shelves' frame. She pocketed it and went back to the sink where the pot was just finished filling.

The back door security box beeped and when the door opened, Alex called out, "It's ok, guys, it's just me." That proved the silent security alarm was still functioning. The two men came up to the kitchen with their guns drawn anyway. She recognized them.

Alex made no sudden moves and kept her hands in the air next to her head. "False alarm," she offered tentatively. "I'm just here to clean up." She saw recognition in their eyes, but they didn't lower their guns. "It's about time it gets done, don't you think?" She waited, counting silently in her head, preparing to defend herself.

After a full minute, one of them lowered his gun and said, "You need to call security before coming in here so we can cancel the alarm."

"Thank you. I'll remember that in the future." She didn't have her phone. She didn't have their number. Was the shop's phone still connected?

The other man lowered his gun and put it away. Alex escorted them out and closed the door again. She went back, took the stained towel from the bathroom and the pot of water, and went to clean up.

Around mid morning, Alex heard the back door keypad again and the door open. She was unsurprised when Milo appeared. The floor was almost finished.

Milo frowned as he saw her on her hands and knees. "You don't have to clean up. Now that the money isn't frozen, we can get a cleaning crew."

"No one comes in here but me. They wouldn't know what's salvageable and it would risk breaking even more." Alex stood up, stretching. It was time to swap the water again anyway.

"You need to tell Rico or Emma where you are at all times," Milo instructed. "In case the social workers come by. That psychiatrist filed another complaint this morning. He wasn't too pleased about his office getting broken into last night. As Luciano only destroyed your files, the guy must have been specifically looking for your case."

Alex took the pan of dirty water back to the kitchen, letting Milo follow. "I'm glad it's taken care of. Tell Luciano thank you for me."

Milo watched her empty the pot with disapproving eyes. "I will. Why don't you wash up and I'll take you to get something to eat."

Alex ignored this. "Bring something here. What time do I need to meet Mario?"

Milo didn't argue, although Alex could tell from his stance that he wanted to. "6 p.m. What would you like me to bring?"

"Anything fresh. Fruits, vegetables, unsalted and oil-free nuts. A clean protein if you can find it." Alex began refilling the pot.

"Ok," Milo conceded, but added, "If you leave here, let me know?"

Alex tilted her head at him. "How?"

Milo hmmm'd. "Good point. You didn't get your things back. I'll see if I can find your phone."

"And my laptop," Alex added. "The F.B.I. apparently has it. Speaking of which, how come you guys couldn't find me? I'm guessing you were looking. With the money frozen, it had to be pretty important to find me." She tried not to sound like she was reprimanding him, but it was difficult. Why hadn't they come for her sooner?

"We were looking," Milo declared. "Desperately so. We even talked with our contacts at the police station. You just vanished."

"That shouldn't have been possible. I was at the station for quite a while," explained Alex. "I kept expecting you guys to bail me out. The whole time I knew Sal was probably dying. It about drove me crazy."

"Apparently did drive you crazy," Milo stated. "What were you doing at the psychiatric hospital?"

Alex didn't try to hide her disgust and frustration as she replied, "They were trying to make me confess to Sal's corrupt sexual relations with a minor. They didn't find any condemning evidence on my laptop so they needed my testimony. They were going to arrest him and throw Mario in for complicity."

"Oh." Milo's frown deepened and his eyebrows pulled together in thought.

"Apparently they can't get them for something real and need to fabricate evidence." Alex exhaled and picked up the pot of water. She walked back toward the front of the shop. Milo followed. "Which is good, I suppose. I wouldn't give them anything to work with and it pissed them off so they sent me for psychiatric evaluation, convinced that it was my fear of the family that prevented me from talking. They recorded everything. I thought you guys had all of it and that's why Mario didn't have me killed."

Alex set down the water near the next section of floor and turned to Milo, "Look, I really just want to be alone for a while. I won't leave the shop."

"I'll go get you some food." He still looked deeply troubled.

Alex nodded and lowered herself back to her knees. Milo let himself out. Alex stopped and buried her face in her hands and rubbed at her temples. She could leave, she supposed. She could disappear. Head west and south. Relocate into Mexico, maybe. Rico wouldn't be able to foster or adopt, but she doubted he ever desired that to begin with. Sal's assets would just sit in legal limbo, but they were really insignificant compared to the family holdings which were already released.

Alas, there was the not-so-minor issue of Sal making her head of the family, making her responsible for his family. Just because the family didn't want her involved didn't mean she wasn't. She sighed. She couldn't leave. Sal had glued her feet to this path and he'd known she would see it through for him.

After she finished cleaning up the bulk of the gore, she cleaned out the refrigerator. Several month old food was pretty rank. She took one of the larger packing boxes out behind the shop and started using that as the waste bin.

Milo arrived after a short time with several filled grocery bags. "Do you want help unpacking this?"

Alex shook her head. "No thank you, Milo. I've got it."

Milo contemplated her as she began unpacking the groceries, and then said, "I'll come by to pick you up at 4:30."

Alex put the last of the fruit into the now-clean refrigerator bin. "I thought I wasn't needed until 6?"

"You'll want time to go home and change. You should dress up for the meeting," Milo explained.

"Ah, ok." Alex turned to the other grocery bag. She was getting hungry and the medication-shakes had mostly worn off.

Milo nodded to her and left.

While Alex was eating a carrot, it occurred to her that she might be able to restore the broken things once she had her inventions working. She was planning on doing a lot of molecular rearranging anyway, so how hard would it be to reassemble antiques? It would be a good exercise at the very least .

Alex started at the top shelves and worked her way down. Everything broken got carefully wrapped and put in a big box in the back labelled "NFS - Not For Sale". Tiny pieces and sandy grit were collected into a large ziplock bag and saved. At each item, she paused and remembered Sal's lecture on it - where it was from, what made it valuable, how much it was worth. She barely got two shelves done before Milo was back.

As commanded, Alex waited at the back of the large, very private room in the restaurant, leaning against the soundproofed, wood-paneled wall. The room was still empty, but it was exactly as Sal had described it. She even knew which chair was his. When Sal had been telling her about these family meetings and its attendees, she'd thought he was just being chatty and reminiscing. Alex was going to have to go back through all of their conversations and consider them with this new insight.

Alex had changed into a black dress that she knew only made her look more pale and gaunt, and perhaps a touch sinister. She wore the simple gold chain necklace that Sal had given her and her hair was newly trimmed - Milo had slipped in a hair salon visit, too.

Milo was going to be mad. He recommended not naming a heir, but Alex thought giving Mario her full support was the better option. It was also part of what Sal's brother had dictated she say. "Screw this," Alex whispered to herself and went and sat in Sal's old chair to the right of the chair Mario would take. It was going to be her chair now and if she didn't claim it, someone else would. Sal had been very clear about chair seats indicating pecking order.

The men of the family entered as a group, with Mario coming in last. Each and every one of them saw her and frowned disapprovingly, except for Milo, who saw where Alex was sitting and closed his eyes a moment, looking like he was saying a quick prayer. As Sal's brother approached her, Alex stood up and nodded to him deferentially. Everyone sat down and Alex remained standing.

Alex cleared her throat. Off script, she said in Italian, "Before we get started, I'd like to apologize to everyone here for the recent problem with the family money and offer my condolences on the loss of Mr. Marino."

The uproar settled when Mario waved his hand. "Go on," Sal's brother commanded her. The underlying harshness promised severe violence if Alex failed to perform as directed.

Once again, Alex did not go from the script, which was ignored in her hand. The message, however, would be exactly the same, but wouldn't make her sound like a whimpering fool. "The family cannot continue in its current state of political unrest. Many of you have claim to run the family and would do an excellent job. However, there can only be one, and I trust Sal's choice before he named me. For the good of the family, I will do as Sal did, and step aside and let the right man do the job. Mario will continue to run the family and is henceforth formally my heir in all things." She half-bowed to Mario and sat down. Mario looked like he wanted to throttle her.

"Pretty speech," one of the men growled, "But you do not dictate to us what we do."

Alex said nothing. It was Mario's job to defend himself and seize control.

Mario cut in, "The formality is done. We have business to discuss."

"She can't be here," another of the men snarled.

"She stays," Mario declared firmly, putting his hands on the table and staring down the speaker. That was the one concession Alex had demanded. She had promised not to interrupt, but pointed out she could hardly do the job Sal asked her to if she weren't present to offer input. She'd also given him a frightening taste of how much she knew about the family's business affairs already. If she were going to incriminate them, she would have done it a long time ago.

Mario overruled the objections by setting his gun on the table. The discussions began, with many looking in her direction trying to judge if she'd be a witness to the police. The men talked as much with their hands as with words, and Alex avidly absorbed this body language in case she needed to use it someday.

There was only one topic that concerned Alex and when Sal's brother asked, "Do we know for certain that the Caro family ordered Sal's death?", Alex's attention snapped to sharp focus.

The man at the far side of the table answered, "It's confirmed. Straight from the top. Caro ordered it himself."

There were all sorts of reprisal suggestions. Most were either too risky or too expensive or too mild. Mario listened without comment and when the brainstorming slowed, he announced, "I will think about it and make a decision." The conversation went on to other things and eventually the meeting ended.

A few days later, Milo escorted Alex to Sal's house which was another part of her unsolicited inheritance. The house was a custom built two-story Italian-style Neo-Renaissance building with a flat roof and symmetrical round-arched windows and arched front door. A balustrade railing enclosed the roof. Due to the compressed nature of the city, the surrounding garden was small, if generous when compared to the neighboring houses. Alex had seen it before when exploring, but hadn't known it was Sal's.

Milo punched in the door's security code, opened the door, and stood aside to let Alex pass. The front entranceway was a grand space, with a curving staircase off to the left and an archway off to the right. The large room off the staircase had meticulous antique chairs and a magnificent grand piano. White columns toward the back separated the area from the main house. She recognized some of the famous paintings on the walls and the interior reminded her of an art gallery. Every nuance screamed Sal's name, as if he'd chosen every detail himself.

Alex walked through with Milo following silently. They arrived at a medium-sized, ransacked office. Papers were everywhere. The desk drawers were overturned and both file cabinets emptied.

"I can't imagine Sal leaving the room like this," Alex stated dryly.

"Mario has been through here looking for account information as well as the combination to the family vault," Milo explained. "Technically, the vault is on the premises and now belongs to you, but it's got a lot of the family heirlooms in it. You should consider giving them to Mario."

Milo kept speaking, but Alex didn't hear him. Instead, she saw Sal, clear as a sunny day, bent over a piece of paper in his shop.

"Whatcha doing?" Alex had asked, dropping her book bag behind the counter. She'd just arrived from school.

"I changed all of my accounts, passwords, and combinations. I do that once a year. I'm trying to memorize them. Can't leave these things written down anywhere." Sal grinned at her. "Hey, do me a favor and quiz me."

He handed the paper to Alex and she glanced at it before she realized she shouldn't. "Sal! You shouldn't be giving this to me."

"Why? Are you going to rob me?" Sal had said teasingly.

"No." She'd made a face at him.

"Then be a friend and help me learn them." They'd burned the paper afterwards.

Alex felt like she was spinning in a full circle. Sal must have known even then that he was going to leave everything to her. She tried to focus on Milo. "Hmmm, what did you say?"

"Did he happen to give you anything, Alex? Any paper? Did he tell you the combinations?"

"Not that I recall. I'll have to think about it," Alex lied automatically.

Milo shook his head sadly. "Yeah, I didn't think so. He must have written it down somewhere. That combination hadn't been changed since the vault got put in."

She bet a lot of the other 'annually changed' stuff hadn't ever been changed before either. "Where is the vault?"

"In the basement," answered Milo.

They went through the house, starting upstairs. Every room showcased beautiful original paintings and exquisite antiques. Several had famous statues and vases. One of the sculptures even looked like an original by Gian Lorenzo Bernini. With each room, the Marino family wealth shrunk in comparison to Sal's personal wealth. Upstairs, Sal's bed was still unmade and some of his clothes were still piled on a nearby chair. His bedroom smelled like him. Alex didn't linger.

Alex and Milo eventually got to the basement. The vault could have come from a bank, given its high end electronics and impenetrable metal. Alex stared at the door, but didn't approach it.

Milo sighed. "Mario has tried every combination he could think of already. If the family money hadn't been frozen, he would have hired someone to come in and cut it open."

"Well, give me some time to think about it. If we have to cut it open, then we have to cut it open. I'll search through the house and store first. Maybe I can find something you guys missed." Alex shrugged. "Let's go get a drink."

When Milo was finally gone and Alex had the house to herself, she went back down to the vault and opened it. Inside, a small mountain of cash and mixed jewelry boxes took up the shelves on one wall while the opposite held crates that she recognized from the gun range and assorted other weapons and gear. The far shelves held several safes and filing boxes. In the center of the otherwise meticulously clean floor was a folded piece of paper with her name on it. She picked it up and read the ornate Italian script.

Alex,

If you are reading this, I'm gone and you are probably terrified. It is my wish that you and my brother become friends and this was the only way I could think of to make that happen. If I can't be there to protect you, he has the resources to do so as well as enough to help you start your business. I made him promise to take care of you, but it will take him time to adjust. Go easy on him. He has a lot of responsibilities. I imagine you've already signed over everything you could, but I cannot leave this house and the store to him. He won't know the value of things and someone will take advantage of that. Sell it, use the money for your business, whatever you want. It's yours. I wish I could have been there to see your new world. I would have liked it very much.

All my love and all my faith,

Salvatore

Alex sat down and leaned against one of the gun crates and thought. What could she do to make Mario trust her? An hour later, she knew. It would risk her whole future on one night, but if successful, she could stop being afraid and actually focus on her plans. She could trust Mario to leave her alone and with any luck, she could leave behind all the garbage in her life that was holding her back, and never have to do anything illegal again for a very long time. And it was justice, if not legal. She set the note back where she'd found it, closed and locked the vault. Then she went to the office in search of some blank paper and a pen. She needed supplies.

Four days later, Alex finished up the last of the arrangements. The audio recordings were ready. The cardboard shadow controllers were set up and tested. The cash was out for the pizza. Climbing rope, weapons, grapples, gloves, new clothes, new shoes, wigs, all set and stashed in an also new backpack. She called Milo and met him at Sal's front door. She was just finishing her note to Mario.

She'd written, "Mario, tell everyone to have an alibi tonight. Everyone with a gun. An undeniable, non-family alibi, until at least 2 a.m. At 7:30, I will call you and ask you to come to Sal's house. Arrive at exactly 8 p.m., not a moment earlier or later. Bring your Fed surveillance with you, but leave them (and everyone else) outside, and let yourself in. They're our alibi. Do not deviate from instructions. Destroy this note."

Alex signed the paper and handed it to Milo. "Give this to Mario directly. Don't let anyone else see it."

Milo scanned the note. "May I ask what you are doing?"

"I'm having a private meeting with Mario. That's all. I mentioned the Caro family's involvement in Sal's murder to some of my old street friends. They suggested tonight would be a good night for a family party." She shrugged. "You get an alibi for tonight, too. Don't come by Sal's house. I'm going to have a very private and frank conversation with Mario and it does not need your witness."

"You aren't planning to kill Mario?" Milo asked trepidatiously.

"Good grief, no. Mario's family." Yes, Milo had definitely viewed the video at the gun range that one time and he surely knew Sal's gun collection was in the house. Milo had probably even arranged some of the other lessons Sal had provided. "As much as Mario hates me, he's still Sal's brother and I won't dishonor my best friend's apparent last wish. It's just a conversation. Please make sure Mario does as that says. It won't matter to the family if he doesn't, but it will matter to me."

Milo looked like he wanted to say something else, but instead, he nodded, half-bowed and left. As soon as she made sure he'd driven off and wasn't coming back, she took her cell phone back to her laptop and connected it. The timer would call Mario and play the recording. She grabbed the backpack she'd prepared and slipped out through the back door of the house.

Alex was a different person by time she crossed the first public surveillance cameras, but she still did not allow her face to be seen. Three hours later, approximately 7:30 p.m., sturdy hiking got her to a subway station about 15 miles from Sal's house. She blended with the crowd. She changed costumes again. Shortly thereafter, she was at the Caro residence, where she watched and waited. She timed the security guard patrols. Her targets arrived home and settled in. The kids were put to bed. The sun set.

Eventually, the lights in the house went out. The parents' bedroom light came on. The bathroom light came on. The lights went out again. The evening security patrol went by. Alex cut the phone and internet connection to the house by triggering the tiny remote bomb on the electrical box down the street. The whole neighborhood would be without landlines, but it would kill the remote security warnings, showing up as a temporary outage. She was inside the house a few minutes later, glass panel cut on the window with the tiniest of holes, security alarm connection bypassed, window opened, her inside, window closed, all before the patrol went by again. She was quiet, despite the added bulk of profile-changing padding. Any accidentally missed video would show someone taller, bulkier, male, in a ski mask. Even her head shape was different with padding. The house was silent.

Upstairs, the first room she looked in had two sleeping children. Pity that. She left them sleeping. Both parents were sound asleep when she entered their room. They were silently dead within seconds, knife across the throat, through their vocal cords, through their carotid arteries. She left the knife buried to the hilt in the patriarch of the Caro family.

Alex didn't pause. She was out of the house again in under five minutes. Next, a half hour of waiting in a bush before she could get by the evening patrol, with her heart traitorously pounding. Through the streets, in the shadows, a clothing change. Back through the subway. Clothing change again. Just in case.

The unmarked police car outside Sal's house as well as the limousine waiting on the street suggested Mario had indeed arrived on time. Alex went around the back and made sure there were no other observers before sneaking in the back door.

"So you agree these papers should be burned?" Alex's recorded voice came from the front study, where the outside officers and their listening devices could clearly hear it.

"Yes," Mario answered, reading from the script, yet at a fine, natural pace. "Is that wine barrel still in the kitchen?"

"I think so," her prerecorded voice answered.

"Let's use that."

Alex was busy stripping down and throwing her clothes into the barrel. Mario entered just as she was tossing in her underwear. She was naked. She bared her teeth crazily at him and reached over to the table where she'd left some of her own clothes. She put those on and took a clean washcloth, wiped her hands and then any dirt on the floor. She tossed the washcloth into the barrel, too.

"You know what? Let me toss these old newspapers in too. It'll beat dumping them in a landfill somewhere," Alex said, as if she'd been conversing with him all evening.

"Good idea." The script had run out on "bring that cardboard cutout of me into the kitchen; I'll meet you there."

Together, they rolled the barrel out through the front door, in plain view of the unmarked police car, and added lighter fluid. When the fire was high enough, they made a show of tossing in the script Mario had been reading from.

For the sake of the surveillance car's audio pickup, Alex said, "There. No more nasty love letters to smear Sal's reputation."

"I appreciate you bringing these to my attention. Some of the family would have been very hurt reading those." Mario was not slow.

"Let me just reiterate to you: I am loyal to the family," Alex said. "Sal was my very best and only friend. I will never, ever let any harm come to the family if I can prevent it."

"I'm beginning to believe you." Mario's eyes were calculating. "It's late. How about if I drop you off at Rico's?"

"Sure, let me get my books and lock up and I'll meet you in the limo." Alex went back to the house, securely deleted the recordings from her laptop, disassembled the robotics that had been used to move the cardboard cutout of her in front of the light with such pristine animation for a shadow on the window curtain for the police surveillance, grabbed her backpack and laptop and left, locking the door behind her.

In the limousine on the drive over to Rico's, they didn't say a word. Mario dropped her off at Rico's house where Rico and his wife were entertaining a couple from Rico's office - non-family. Alex greeted them politely and went up to her room. Her adrenaline suddenly dropped off and she began shaking. She crawled into bed, fully dressed, and curled up. For a long time, she stared straight ahead, unseeing.

Early the next day, Milo arrived at Rico's house to tell Alex she was summoned to speak with Mario. Alex was picking at, but not eating, some strawberries for breakfast. Her stomach was still clenched in knots from the night before. Rico had already left for work and Emma was upstairs doing laundry.

"What's up?" Alex asked, feigning ignorance.

"The head of the Caro family was murdered last night along with his wife. Police are going to be all over the place, interviewing everyone, checking alibis," Milo informed her dryly.

"Really?" Alex sighed. "That's certainly going to cause some trouble."

Milo squinted at her.

Alex added, "The other families aren't going to be very happy. That's two patriarchs. I hope it isn't a trend. I'd be in the running." Alex called upstairs, " Emma, I'm going with Milo over to the restaurant." Alex put the uneaten fruit in the refrigerator and her plate in the sink.

As they got into the limousine, Alex commented, "I think she's happier when I'm not there. I make her uncomfortable."

They rode over in silence. Milo studied her the whole time. Alex looked out of the window and ignored his gaze.

Mario was already in his office when they arrived and Alex was immediately escorted back. Mario dismissed the two men with him and after they left, Alex went over to a chair and sat down without being invited to do so.

Mario began to say something, but Alex cut him off with a gesture. "Before the police get here, did anything go off script?"

"No." Mario also sat down. "Did you do it?"

"Sal told me never to tell you he had me trained. It was for self-defense. To protect me, you understand, not to become an assassin." Alex nodded, just once, but that wouldn't show up on any voice recorder. "I can use all of his guns."

"Caro was killed with a knife." Mario pinched his lips together in a frown.

"Messy," Alex replied.

"Rumors are saying it would have required a highly skilled assassin. No one saw or heard anything until one of the kids went to wake their mom up for a drink of water around 2 a.m." Mario rested one hand on the table, but his other hand remained suspiciously close to his gun.

"Isn't that type thing expensive?" Alex inquired brightly.

Mario's eyebrows scrunched together, reminding Alex so much of Sal that she flinched.

"The police can follow the money trail to who's responsible," Alex explained. "I mean, we didn't pay for it, did we?"

"No." Mario looked thoughtful.

"I can't say I'm particularly sorry they got killed," Alex went on. "Caro had Sal murdered. You might even say I'm glad."

"I didn't order this," Mario admonished.

"We'll send flowers to the funeral," Alex offered.

After a moment, Mario admitted, "I underestimated you."

"I know." Alex said this with a calm assurance she really didn't feel. She needed to convince Mario that she was family.

With a quietly low, deliberately menacing voice, Mario asked, "So was last night's demonstration you threatening me?"

Alex shook her head firmly. Setting her tone to a frank authority, she stated, "Sal left the family to me. I won't dishonor him. He was my best and only friend. I'm going to keep repeating that until the family understands. He. Was. My. Best. And. Only. Friend." With a harsh grit in her voice, she growled, "It was my BLOOD RIGHT. I'm not your blood, but Sal was mine." Then, more gently, she said, "Besides, you have his eyes. The worst I could ever do to you or any of the family is abandon you. I asked you there because I have to trust you. I can't go on not sleeping, thinking you are going to come after me at any moment. I need you to see my value so you'll stop hating me, stop trying to cut me out."

Mario nodded at this. There wasn't complete trust in his eyes yet, but there was finally respect. He inquired, "Do you want to claim the kill?"

"We send flowers to the funeral," she repeated. "We'll buy them on a 2 for 1 sale. You can do that if they're equivalent flowers. Just leave the receipt with them. The message will get across."

Mario hesitated, pondering, and then decided, "Welcome to the family, Alex Smith."

"Thank you, Mario Marino." Interview over, she stood. She reached in her pocket and withdrew a small slip of paper and set it on his table. On her way out, she said softly, "That's the combination to the vault. Everything inside is as he left it, including his note to me. Also, all of the account passwords."

When Alex went back out into the restaurant's main room, she saw the man who'd troubled her that first night when she arrived back from the hospital. He was married to one of the Marino women. They had no children. Sal had barely mentioned him beside naming him employed as a bodyguard. Alex walked backward through her memory and tried to figure out why he stood out. She went through every time she'd been in the restaurant and then every time she'd been with Sal. Nothing. Nothing... And then she saw it. The day she'd been arrested, the day Sal was shot, he was at the police station across the busy room in a distant hallway. When he'd seen her, he had quickly ducked into a room. She hadn't noticed him at all at the time. He was wearing a badge. The family had been desperately looking for her, tumbling into financial ruin, and he'd known where she was and had said nothing.

Alex walked over to him. "A moment of your time, Mr. Furlren?" Because she'd just come out of Mario's office, those nearby assumed she was inexplicably tasked by Mario. She moved out of earshot of anyone else. Alex smiled thinly and spoke so quietly no one else could overhear. "I saw you at the police station. You're an undercover cop and you have betrayed the family." He paled and Alex continued, "Leave now and don't come back. Tomorrow morning, I'm telling Mario. You'll be shunned from the family activities anyway so your job is finished." She didn't need to point out the other downside of betraying an Italian Mafia family. He scurried out. She'd tell Milo later so he could pass along the information that their police contacts were compromised.

She went over to Milo who asked, "What was that about?"

Alex shrugged. "Just some family business. Tell you about it later."

A month later, Alex and Milo sat at Rico's kitchen table while Emma moved around putting dishes away. Alex finished cutting an apple and put the tiny slivers in her oatmeal.

Milo informed Alex, "You've been transferred to Kingsport Academy for the upcoming school year." Milo smiled at Emma as she set a traditional Italian caffè in front of him. "A couple of the kids in the family go there and they've been told to help you. You'll travel by limo with bodyguards at all times. No more running around the streets by yourself. It's too dangerous."

Alex picked up her spoon and poked at the apple bits, pushing them in. "Won't that seem odd for just going to school? Isn't there a school bus?"

Emma silently retreated from the room to go somewhere upstairs.

Milo drank his coffee in three quick swallows and set the cup back down. "It's a private school. A lot of the students are from affluent families and get dropped off. It's got on-site security guards and is generally considered the top school in the state. Besides, it's a solid one hour drive one way. You might as well ride in comfort."

Alex ate some of her oatmeal while Milo popped open his briefcase. He pushed a set of papers at her. "Your class schedule and syllabi. I was unable to get you out of the required music class. I put you in choir as it was either that or piano."

Her heart skipped several beats and Alex was afraid she paled considerably. When she could speak again, she said, "Ah, good. I need something to fail to keep my GPA down."

"Your textbooks should arrive tomorrow so you'll be all set when school starts. Do you need any more supplies or do you have enough notebooks, pens, pencils and such?"

"I have plenty. I still have all the things Sal bought me."

"I noticed their lack of use." Milo's mouth quirked. "You might try actually doing some of the assignments. You might learn something."

"I'll consider it." Alex set her spoon aside and glanced through the papers. Music class was going to be a problem.

Kingsport Academy was an imposing brick building inside a tall brick-walled compound. As Milo had promised, most students were being dropped off in private cars and hers wasn't the only limousine. Alex got out and stared around. Students peered at her curiously and Alex tugged at her white uniform blouse self-consciously.

A girl with long auburn hair pried herself from the railing by the steps and came over to her. She was carrying her backpack in her hand rather than wearing it. "I'm Karen Marino. You must be Alex Smith. May I call you Alex?"

Alex nodded. Alex's own heavy backpack was pulling at her shoulders. "Of course."

"I'll take you in and show you around. I'm a junior so I'm not in any of your classes, but I'll try to meet you after classes if you want." Karen started walking toward the school and Alex followed.

Alex replied, "I should be fine if you just show me where things are. Unless you want to spend time with me."

Karen held the door for Alex. "Well, I'm naturally curious. Did you really hang out with Salvatore Marino?" At Alex's nod, Karen continued, "I would have been too scared to. What did you guys talk about?"

"Mostly antiques and art." Alex wondered if Karen found the conversation as awkward as she did. It was likely considering that Karen sounded like she was babbling more from nervousness than genuine curiosity.

"Huh. I only ever saw him at family gatherings, you know. Dad warned me not to bug him." Karen shifted her backpack to her other hand.

Alex remembered seeing Karen at Sal's birthday party. She had indeed steered clear of approaching Sal. Her father had dropped off the gift from his family - a very expensive high-end laptop. Alex briefly wondered where that had gone. Many of Sal's birthday presents had been redistributed. Sal had said it was all part of the tradition. He certainly hadn't needed a new laptop. "What did your dad say about me?"

Karen winced and a guilty flush warmed her face. "Just that I should help you get settled in."

He'd said a lot more than that. Alex shifted her book bag on her shoulders. "I'm glad you are. I'd be lost in this mausoleum. Why aren't there any numbers on these doors?"

"Oh, those are in the door jams. See?" Karen pointed to small, barely perceptible numbers near the top inside edge of the door frame. "The administration didn't want ugly signs interfering with the gloomy ambience."

"Ah." Alex rolled back through her memory and captured the room numbers. It was an absurd policy. How were emergency workers and guests supposed to find things?

"This is the sophomore locker room here," Karen announced. "Did they give you a locker and combination?"

"Yes." Alex hoped she could leave her books in the locker permanently. They were heavy.

"Do you want to drop off any of your books? I can wait. Different grades are not allowed in each other's locker rooms. I think it's supposed to prevent couples from making out." Karen smirked as she explained this.

Alex peered in. It was a standard size school room, lined with lockers, with two sets of lockers forming low rows in the center. The entire room was completely visible. Directly across from the door, a couple was doing a lip dance. "Maybe later." Alex bet her locker was behind those two kids.

Moving farther along the hallway, Karen lectured, "Here's the history study hall. You'll get two half-hour breaks, one in the morning and one in the afternoon. You have to sign in at one of the study halls or the cafeteria." Karen continued her tour and eventually pointed out all of Alex's classrooms as well as the rest of the study halls, cafeteria, and gym. The choir room contained a piano, a bunch of music stands with music books, and nothing else.

Karen left Alex at her first classroom and ran off to her own class. The school was small enough that each grade only had 25-30 students and the entire grade moved from class to class together. Her new classmates sized her up curiously, but cliques had been formed in their first year, and with the school uniform, there was no way to tell where she belonged. Alex expected she belonged nowhere.

The teacher cleared her throat. "Everyone, we have a new student joining us this year. Please welcome Miss Smith to our school. Miss Smith, please stand and tell us about yourself."

"I'd prefer not to," Alex said clearly. Many of the students smirked and laughed under their hands.

The teacher was unfazed. "Nevertheless, introductions and speeches are a part of life and a skill worth practicing. Do it anyway."

Hah. That was certainly true, particularly if she was going to run a business. Alex tilted her head in royal acquiescence and stood. She paused briefly, recalling some talking tips for self-introduction speeches from books she'd read: state your name clearly, give some context for yourself, add some of your background, talk about a hobby or goal, share personal details, show something in common with the group. Alex would add the standard speech trick of complimenting the audience for good measure. "Thank you, Mrs. Kinsey. I would like to start by saying what an honor it is to have been accepted into this elite school. It has an impressive academic record which speaks well of both the teachers and the students here." Being accepted meant throwing a large wad of cash at the school; no academic merit required, but that was just incidental.

Someone snickered. Alex continued, making eye contact around the room. "I certainly hope to live up to your standards. As Mrs. Kinsey said, I'm Alex Smith. I recently transferred from a public school. My hobbies include antiques and art, mostly traditional fine art oil paintings of the Baroque period. I find the rendering of material - silks and brocades - particularly fascinating. I'm looking forward to the more exacting standards of a rigorous education and I hope we can find many things in common as we continue our scholastic pursuits." She sat down.

Mrs. Kinsey shushed the giggles and comments that followed. "That was nicely done, Miss Smith. Now if everyone would please get out your books, we'll go over this semester's syllabus."

Alex pondered the things she could have said - recently escaped from an insane asylum, nominal head of a mafia family that she wasn't actually a part of, and zero desire to actually attend school. She supposed rumors would catch up to her soon enough. None of it was being kept secret as far as she knew. As for the real secrets, well, those belonged to her and she wasn't likely to share them until they no longer mattered, if ever.

While pretending to listen to the teacher's lecture, Alex looked back in her memory from when she was making eye contact with her classmates and studied them. Milo could get her a report on each of them. Each and every one looked like a privileged kid. They'd never known desperation, hunger, or true fear. The world would give them whatever they dreamed of having. They could focus on their education and excel in their chosen field, and yet, they were likely sacrificing their lives on video games and social media.

Alex turned her attention to her next biggest problem. Money. She was going to need a mountain of it. She wouldn't be able to just borrow enough either, even if she got all of Mario's and a good bit from the Hamasaki family. She'd need a lot of different sources and diversified assets so she'd appear small, inconsequential, and not a threat. She should also avoid tapping the Hamasaki family until things got desperate. If that alliance got out too soon, the oil cartels would end her venture. Assuming the Hamasaki family could be convinced to join the battle on her side. How valuable was that business card? She thought she could make the alliance work if she could talk with the right person.

After class, Alex ignored the whispers and comments about her. No one approached her. During the next class, she designed her tax shelters to be entirely legal if pushing loopholes in the laws. She'd have to check that some of the laws hadn't been changed, but overall, she was happy with the plan. A lot of the money could be moved offshore. She could certainly write some books based on what she knew from her extensive reading and gain some income that way.

In study hall, Alex started thinking about implementing her business. She'd have to be certain of all the moves and countermoves. It would be chess, not checkers, and her opponents needed to remain ignorant of the game for as long as possible. There were so many details she'd have to take care of. Sal had helped her with a lot of the strategy, but there were so many variables and contingencies to plan for.

Unfortunately, midway through her third class, Alex remembered that she'd have music class directly after lunch. The sudden, overwhelming fear made her chest hurt. Her heart began racing, her hands trembled, and she felt like she couldn't breathe. She recognized the anxiety attack for what it was, but that didn't make it go away. She managed to avoid horrific flashbacks, but only just barely.

Alex might have been able to tolerate a violin, maybe; she'd never played one of those. But singing? A piano? She'd joked with Milo about having a class to fail, but she wasn't sure she could force herself into any kind of performance ever again. Not that she couldn't logically tell herself there was nothing to fear anymore, that it was completely different, but her autonomic response had music performance hardwired to terror and pain.

The girl at the next desk looked at her oddly so Alex steadied her hands by grabbing onto the sides of the desk. Inhale. Exhale. Try to think about anything else.

After class, Alex went straight to the bathroom and splashed her face with cold water. This made her late getting to the cafeteria. She glanced around the large room. Only a brief look, but in that moment she'd memorized the layout, marking the exits in particular. The large windows overlooking the garden both thrilled and terrified her. She reminded herself again that she was on the guarded terrain of an exclusive private school; no gang members would be driving past, emptying their weapons into the room.

Alex allowed herself to relax just a fraction and got swept up in the last remnants of the queue. She was the last to get her tray of food and the tables all had people at them. Not that it would have mattered very much, although she supposed the chance of having someone friendly to talk with would have been increased if they joined her rather than her having to pick someone. If she could navigate a conversation with a mafia boss, surely she could manage a simple high school dialog.

Alex picked a table with four girls by the large windows overlooking the gardens, a spot long since reserved as theirs. "Can I join you?"

"It's 'may I'," a girl with short curly hair corrected sunnily, "Don't let the teachers catch you using it incorrectly."

"Sure, have a seat," another girl said at the same time.

Alex set her tray down and lowered herself into a chair. They were supposed to set the table properly, but it was easier to eat from the trays. The food didn't seem to merit the effort anyway. Dainty steamed carrots, cauliflower florets, and a grilled lump of pale protein, probably chicken.

"That was a rad introduction you gave this morning," the girl with the short curly hair said.

Alex didn't know what "rad" meant, but hoped it was a compliment. "If you have to do it anyway, you might as well overdo it?" Alex replied. Her stomach was busy doing flips and her pulse was refusing to slow. She swallowed, hoping not to vomit right there and then.

"We were almost certain you weren't serious," giggled the same girl. "I'm Sophy."

"Oh, I was serious all right." Alex worried that she looked sickly grey, but made herself grin and wink anyway, letting her tone shift to teasing lightheartedness, with an exaggerated southern-belle accent. "I just adore silks and brocades. I could study them for hours and still never see it all." She rolled her eyes up in mock despair. "And no one ever stands and looks at a painting long enough with me. It's such a terrible burden I must bear."

They laughed. The others introduced themselves as Lucy, Carina, and Pamela.

Alex pretended to take a sip of her orange juice. There was no way she was going to put anything in her stomach. To her left, Lucy threw her fork down, pushed her tray away, and peeled open the dessert offering. The lone strawberry atop the chocolate mousse looked suspiciously fresh, likely sculpted from sugar with the barest trace of what may originally have been organic.

"So what are you really interested in?" Pamela pushed a soggy carrot around on the dull perspex plate.

"Business, actually." Alex took her fork and poked at her food. "I'm going to start one."

Pamela wrinkled her nose and offered, "Oh, you should talk to Ethan. His father owns Cartwright-Jaxon Engineering. I think business is in his blood." She pointed. The kid in question was surrounded by a table of boys who seemed to hang on his every word.

Cartwright-Jaxon Engineering was in Alex's list of competitors. Her batteries wouldn't put them out of business, but it would certainly steal from their bottom line. The conversation shifted to the latest virtual reality video games, and Alex continued to push her food around with her fork and pretended to eat. When they asked what game she liked to play the most, she simply joked that she didn't have much time for games, "what, with all the silks and brocades, you know", and then asked which they thought she should try first, which turned into a lively discussion of the merits of various games .

Lunch was over far too soon and the group dropped off their trays and headed toward the music classroom. Ten students broke off to go to piano class, and the rest filed into the choir room. Alex stood outside the room a moment, heart pounding, and feeling like she might throw up. "I can't do this," she whispered to herself.

Alex went directly to the teacher. "I'm not feeling very well. May I go to the infirmary?" Alex certainly looked ill.

The teacher peered at Alex. "Of course. Miss Dewinter, please escort Miss Smith to the infirmary and come right back."

Alex smiled greenly at the red headed girl who stepped forward and followed her out of the room. Behind her, someone started playing the piano - a nice loud 'concert A' for pitch and tuning. The 440 Hz frequency sounded spot-on to her trained ear and she knew it was a well-maintained piano. Alex put her hand over her mouth and walked quicker, putting as much distance as she could between herself and that echoing note. Her legs felt like jelly.

"I'm Jessica," the red-headed girl said, looking at Alex in concern, "Hey, are you going to throw up?"

Alex shook her head and walked faster.

"There's a bathroom over here." Jessica turned Alex down a hallway, slightly away from the infirmary. "It's for the juniors, but we can use it."

As soon as the bathroom door was in sight, Alex ran. She barely made it to the toilet before she was heaving up breakfast and then dry-heaving. Jessica waited outside. The piano note echoed in Alex's head. There were some good memories she could call up, but she focused instead on the current moment and getting her body to calm down. It took a few minutes, but she was finally able to relax a little. She cleaned up, splashed her face with water, and dried off with a paper towel.

She left the bathroom, thanked Jessica, and followed her to the infirmary. Alex explained to the nurse, "I'm just a little nauseated. I think if I lay down for a short bit, I'll be fine."

"She threw up in the bathroom," Jessica offered helpfully.

"Probably something I ate at lunch," Alex countered with a glare at Jessica.

The nurse dismissed Jessica and proceeded to take Alex's temperature (which was fine), and let her sit on the couch. "So you threw up in the bathroom?" the nurse prompted.

"Only a little. I'm fine, really," Alex said, adding her best "I'm healthy and ok" smile.

"I have to call your parents." The nurse waved her hand as Alex was about to object. "It's policy."

The nurse went to her computer and pulled up Alex's record. She took her phone from her pocket and dialed. "Mr. Marino? Sir, this is the nurse at the Kingsport Academy. No, sir, she's fine. She was throwing up though. I can keep her here... Yes, sir. I'll do that. Uh huh. Yes. Ok." She hung up and turned to Alex, "You're to call your driver and have him take you to the nearest hospital. Mr. Marino will meet you there."

Alex frowned, picked up her backpack and dug inside. She retrieved her cell phone and made the call under the watchful eye of the nurse. A few minutes later, the nurse escorted Alex out to the limousine and gave the driver explicit instructions.

As soon as the limousine was off campus, Alex activated the intercom to the driver. "To Sal's house, please."

"Certainly, Miss," came the snappy response.

Alex raised the window again and called Rico. She assured Rico that she was fine and not poisoned or sick or anything and that she would talk with him later that evening, and that she was not going to any hospital. Less than three minutes after she hung up, Mario called.

"I'm ok," Alex assured him. "Really."

"You can't be ok if you are throwing up," Mario argued. "What did you eat?"

"It was just a couple dry heaves. I only wanted to get out of class. I'm on my way to Sal's."

"What's wrong with class? Didn't Karen meet you? She was supposed to take care of you. If she didn't..." Mario's voice promised punishment.

Alex rushed to correct that misunderstanding before it could take hold. "Karen showed me around! She's great. I just... had a hard time getting used to being in classes again. That's all. They're very serious about education here." Alex tap danced around the real issue. She wasn't going to discuss it with him.

"Well, ok, but you can't ditch school again." Mario didn't sound happy at all. "The foster care system will relocate you."

"I know. Thank you for being worried." Alex bet he wanted to reach through the phone and throttle her at that. She disconnected and powered down the phone, not wanting to take any more calls. She leaned back and closed her eyes, trying not to think of or remember anything.

When Alex arrived at Sal's house, she dismissed the driver, and let herself in. Alex closed the front door behind her and stood at the door, staring across the room at the piano. She let her backpack slide to the floor. Maybe by herself, with no one here, she could work past the issue?

Tentatively, she tried a step toward the piano. The room felt incredibly warm and her heart started spasming. Alex bent forward, put her hands on her knees, and hyperventilated. It didn't seem to help. Maybe she'd try a glass of water first? After all, she hadn't eaten any lunch.

Alex quickly skirted around the far side of the room, as far from the piano as she could, and went to the kitchen. She got some water and sat at the table, gripping the glass with both hands. Her hands were trembling so much that the water bounced in the glass as if it were in an earthquake. An anxiety attack is not deadly, Alex told herself. She took a sip and then it occurred to her that if she was going to throw up again, maybe she should do so on an already empty stomach.

"Don't think about doing it; just do it," Alex told herself firmly. Her voice echoed hollowly off the kitchen walls. She stood, grabbed a plastic trash bag to throw up into, took a deep breath, and forced herself to walk steadily back to the piano. She knew if she hesitated at all, she'd fail. She touched the wood of the piano and found it incongruously warm and glass-smooth. She could see her pallid reflection on its shiny black surface.

Alex lifted the fallboard and sat down. Her hands shook and the keys seemed slightly smaller than she remembered. She tapped the middle A key and the sound resonated out through the hall, also perfect in pitch, with the more resonant timbre of an expensive concert hall piano. She swallowed.

She swore repeatedly to prevent the flashbacks. Her stomach was rolling and twisting and sweat rolled down her face and neck. She dry-heaved into the plastic bag and hyperventilated. Her heart beat wildly. Do. Don't think. She set the bag aside and played a simple chromatic scale. The movements came back to her so easily - thumb crossing under, middle finger crossing over, dancing on the keyboard, wrists high, hands floating. Magnificent notes echoed through the hall.

Alex allowed her heart to pound and her abdomen to cramp. She did not perceive the front door opening and closing softly behind her, although she'd notice it later in recollection. She played the introduction to Claude Debussy's Deux Arabesques No. 1. The arpeggios glided flawlessly through the hall, notes building with the melody, flowing through the air like a butterfly across a spring field of flowers. She got through half of the piece before the flashback overwhelmed her and she was heaving stomach bile into the plastic bag, kneeling on the hard marble floor next to the piano, unable to stop the memory.

Milo came over and gently closed the piano fallboard to protect the keys and squatted down next to her and waited. When she finally tilted her tear streaked face up to him, he said, "You make me want to kill all of your enemies. Command me."

"Not a word to anyone." Alex wiped at her face. "That's not me anymore. That girl is dead."

"What can I do to help?" The concern in Milo's eyes made her want to weep more.

Alex steeled herself with analytical logic. "I don't think anti-anxiety meds are the right option. That'll just make it harder for me to keep the flashbacks away."

"Ok?" Milo sounded doubtful. He started to reach out to pat her shoulder, but pulled his hand back, closing it into a frustrated fist, and then reached up to run his hand through his hair instead.

Alex was thankful he didn't touch her. She tried swallowing, but her mouth tasted vile. "I think that's the worst it's going to get. I should be able to mitigate some of the physical side effects now that I can fully recognize them."

Alex pulled herself up, using the piano bench for support because her legs felt weak. She did not look in the direction of the piano. Milo again did not offer to help, although his hands twitched .

Alex tied off the bag and they went to the kitchen. She rinsed her mouth and face and sat by the glass of water. "I'm glad you weren't Mario. I wouldn't have explained."

Milo lowered himself into a chair opposite her. "You can't turn off your phone anymore."

"You guys worry too much." Alex rubbed the bridge of her nose. "I'm used to taking care of myself. I mean, really, what was the point of having Karen meet me at the school? Did you guys really think I couldn't be trusted to get to classes on time?"

"Ah, that. That's a family thing. We take care of each other," Milo explained. "If you go somewhere new and we have someone already there, they meet you and make you feel welcome and tell you what you need to know. Everyone does it for each other. If you go to a new town and we have family there, they'll give you a room to stay in. It's actually an insult if you stay in a hotel, although in your case, it might be necessary because you will also have bodyguards. The flip side of that coin is that you have to do the same if one of the family needs you."

"Oh," Alex said, comprehending finally. "I thought Mario wanted someone to keep an eye on me."

The way Milo's lip pinched suggested Mario did want someone watching her, but he said, "We have it ingrained in us pretty much since birth. Family takes care of family."

"So how are you related to the family?" Alex shifted the conversation away from herself. "Sal never did say."

"My stepmother," Milo answered after a brief hesitation. "If Mario had to choose between anyone with Marino blood and me, he'd choose them. I think Sal felt a little sorry about that, and took care of all my schooling. He said I was family even without the blood."

"So there was precedence for me," Alex observed.

They stared at each other with a shared understanding.

Alex's plan the following day included skipping breakfast as well as lunch and focusing on steady breathing, with recall as needed of different times in the forest, listening to the birds or streams, watching wild animals play - times of complete calm with as many of her senses as she could manifest while still being aware of what was going on around her.

That took her through the 'concert A'.

"Miss Smith, I want you to sing something for me so I can place you," the teacher directed.

"I'm an alto, Ma'am," Alex replied promptly. Her heart rate skyrocketed and she could feel sweat forming across her forehead .

"I'll judge that. Please sing something," the teacher requested politely.

"No, thank you. I don't sing solo." Alex swallowed. Her legs barely supported her.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of. Sing something." The teacher's voice carried a distinct edge this time.

"I'm not comfortable doing that," Alex countered, hoping that the woman would have pity. "I told you - I'm an alto."

"You don't have to be comfortable. You have to sing." The teacher's firm voice was distinctly louder.

Alex could feel the room darkening around her, threatening to suck her into a permanent memory. "No, I don't. I'm not singing." Even the argument taunted her perfect recall.

"Don't use that tone with me," the teacher commanded. "Two demerits. You can wait outside in the hallway until you are ready to participate."

Alex skirted around the teacher and wobbled into the hall. Pulling the music room door closed, she leaned on the wall briefly before sliding to the floor. She leaned her arm on her backpack, closed her eyes, and spent the time finishing off the last of the books she'd scanned and needed to integrate. She tried very hard not to pay attention to the piano coming from inside the room. When class finally let out, Alex wondered how the school's demerit system worked.

Saturday detention. That's how the demerits worked. Accrue ten, get detention. Two per music class times five days a week equaled detention every Saturday. Three hours of cleaning, grounds work, essay writing, or whatever torture the teacher on duty might dream up plus two hours in the car to get there and back. The teacher on duty always, without fail, tried to talk with Alex and help her. Alex was mildly satisfied that the teachers probably found this session equally torturous.

A few weeks later found Alex assigned to the science teacher, Mr. Frier. He was waiting for her when the limousine pulled up. Alex finished off the next sentence in a novel on her laptop, shut it, and climbed out of the car, leaving the laptop inside.

"Ah, Miss Smith!" Mr. Frier said cheerfully, "I'm growing quite fond of our Saturdays together."

"Mr. Frier," Alex greeted him, mirroring his tone, although truthfully she would rather have been in the car finishing off that novel. She'd need the revenue to help fund her business. She already had three waiting for her emancipated minor petition to get approved so she could publish. "Do you get overtime for Saturdays? You were here last Saturday."

"I volunteered for Mrs. Kenwood today. See the weather? It's beautiful out. I thought we'd go for a walk instead of the usual detention."

Alex sighed with resignation. Another one of those motivational 'you can do it' speeches incoming. She had a plan today though - Milo's suggestion which she'd subsequently researched. Mr. Frier was right about the weather; it was pretty out - a little chilly, but not too cold. Alex put on the lightweight jacket that was draped over her arm. Maybe she could get him to talk about science?

Mr. Frier started walking on a path that would take them around the building toward the garden outside the lunch hall. The pace was casual. "So I understand you like Baroque art?" Mr. Frier asked encouragingly.

"I needed something to say as part of an introduction speech," Alex hedged.

"I see, but what made you choose that?" Mr. Frier persisted.

"I'd just been to an art museum." Despite the well-manicured, still-green lawn, Alex spotted a small patch of chickweed, a nutritious if calorie-deficient green that remained edible throughout the year. She knew that bit would be inedible due to the fertilizers and weedkiller likely applied to the lawn, but it was still a comforting old friend to spot.

"You like museums?" inquired Mr. Frier, smiling at her.

Alex recognized his attempt to find common ground and create a personal connection so he could get to the real point. She wondered if she should make him work for it or if she should have mercy. They had three hours. She shrugged.

Mr. Frier continued, "I find they can be very peaceful."

He'd never visited sculptures from Auguste Rodin's Gates of Hell, she thought. "I s'pose," she said.

"Suppose," he corrected automatically. At least he didn't give her any more demerits for it.

Alex wondered how many grammatical corrections she could get him to make. She toyed with the idea, but then realized that Sal wouldn't have approved. The thought was sobering. "Museums are nice," she conceded, as if Sal were also standing there, listening. "Sal took me to a few."

"Salvatore Marino?" Mr. Frier didn't pronounce the name right.

"Mmmm hmmm." Alex watched a hawk circling off in the distance.

"You must have been very upset when he died," murmured Mr. Frier.

Not the direction Alex wanted the conversation to go. "I had more than enough counseling in the psychiatric hospital, Mr. Frier. Why don't we talk about science?"

"Why don't we talk about choir?" he countered.

Alex stopped to watch the hawk dive for a kill and then used Milo's suggestion, "Chocolate War, Mr. Frier."

Mr. Frier inhaled sharply. He masked this by also stopping to watch the bird's flight. After a full minute he quoted, "Do I dare disturb the universe?"

Alex responded, quoting more of the poem, "In a minute there is time for decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse. For I have known them all already, known them all: Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, I have measured out my life with coffee spoons; I know the voices dying with a dying fall, Beneath the music from a farther room. So how should I presume?"

He chose not to comment on her recall. "Who asked you not to sing?"

"No one," Alex answered honestly. "It is, however, an interesting social experiment."

Mr. Frier turned to face her directly. "You're not doing yourself any favors by failing to attend music class. It's part of a well-rounded education. You'll regret it later."

Alex genuinely laughed then. "Of all the things I have potential to regret, not singing in music class isn't ever going to be one of them." This was definitely a problem with small, private schools; the teachers had too much time to focus on individual students, too much energy to allocate to personal attention.

Indeed giving Alex too much attention, Mr. Frier inquired, "Miss Smith, what on earth could you possibly have to regret?"

It suddenly surprised Alex how many things she did have. She never used to regret anything. It was always just stuff that got done or needed to be done. Those two Caro kids, for example; they'd had parents who loved them and took care of them, and now they were orphans, just like her. Well, not exactly like her. They still had family that would protect and take care of them; they'd be all right, but Alex regretted making them orphans.

"I regret necessity, Mr. Frier." After a moment, Alex added, "I regret some forms of kindness, too." Alex was thinking about the girls she'd shot in the house. Had it been mercy and kindness to put them out of their misery? Had that even been what she was thinking? Unfortunately, now that she could see her younger self more clearly, she knew she'd been shooting herself, not those girls, to try and make the pain go away. Selfishness, masquerading as merciful kindness.

"Kindness, Miss Smith?" Mr. Frier's puzzled expression was almost comical in its intensity.

Rather than the truth, Alex chose something less incriminating because it was too late to change her words. "There was a drug addict in the psychiatric ward, Mr. Frier. I gave her a drug I'd stolen. At the time, I'd thought it was kind." She'd actually not thought anything of the sort. It was merely payment, a tip, like you tip the waiter at a restaurant for particularly fine service. A standard street-smart action in case she ever needed another service done. "Come work for me," that payment said, "I will make it worth your while."

Mr. Frier hesitated and then said, "Well, you're young. You're going to make mistakes and can learn from them. You have to figure out how to forgive yourself and move on. Was the girl all right?"

"Yeah. She's fine." Alex pulled her jacket closed and zipped it.

"Then no harm done," Mr. Frier proclaimed. "I wouldn't worry too much about it."

They moved on to the garden which was winter-sparse. Alex, unwilling to continue the melancholy philosophical thread, inquired, "What got you into science, Mr. Frier?" For the remainder of the conversation, Alex asked pointed science questions and didn't let the conversation turn back to herself. She'd already said more than she'd planned.

Alex's fingers silently tapped the beautiful dark wood desk of the Kingsport Academy. The teacher, Mrs. Kenwood, continued describing some simple Geometry problem with enthusiastic animation, but Alex was barely listening enough to be able to answer if called on. In her thoughts, she was outlining yet another novel.

As soon as Milo got her emancipated minor court order pushed through, Alex would start publishing, buying and selling antiques, and accruing money for her business. She already knew which overseas publishing houses she would use and where to set up accounts so the money could be neatly and legally distributed to hide her total wealth. The business papers were already prepared. She could have a working prototype of her battery within three months of getting the supplies and maybe have a functioning bioshield by the end of the year. She would finally be able to sleep soundly again.

Milo had flinched at her shopping list, but everything was all legal if wrapped under the pretext of the business, even the rather expensive and rare hazmat items. It would burn through the cash in her account and more, but she would never sell any of Sal's things. A trip through some of the antiques shows should recover costs. She hoped. Money, money, money. It was going to be a problem for a long time.

"Miss Smith! Perhaps you'd care to enlighten us?" the teacher's sharp voice suggested at least two repetitions.

"Hrm?" Alex looked up at the board, swearing at herself silently. She'd forgotten to half-listen. Again.

"Miss Smith, stay after class," Mrs. Kenwood instructed. "In the meantime, please come explain problem 34 on the whiteboard."

Alex was halfway to the front of the classroom before she realized she'd left her book on her desk. She went back for it, ignoring the snickering of her fellow students. She pretended to study the problem, think about it, and then wrote the solution up on the board. The teacher frowned, but let her return to her seat, and went on to explain the solution in great detail. Alex stopped listening again.

After class, the teacher half-sat on her desk and crossed her arms at Alex. "You have so much potential. Is it that hard to pay attention?"

"No, Ma'am." Alex stood perfectly still and waited, afraid to see how many demerits she was going to be given. She'd soon have Saturday detention well after the school year ended.

The teacher rubbed at her thigh. "What is it you think about so intently? Clearly it isn't Geometry."

"Just stuff." Her Sal-directed movie-research suggested that was a typical teenager answer.

The teacher sighed. "Do you have your homework?"

"No, Ma'am." Alex decided she really hated school. How much trouble would she be in if she called her driver and left? Unfortunately, social services would probably just find another psychiatric ward to terrorize her in.

"Why not?" The teacher sat on the edge of her desk, apparently settling in for an extended interrogation.

Alex suppressed a groan. "I was busy doing other things."

"What things?"

"Just stuff." Alex watched as the teacher ground her teeth together, looked up at the ceiling, maybe counting to ten in her head? "Look, Mrs. Kenwood, you're a fine teacher, but you don't have to worry about me. Focus on the other kids. I'm covered."

"You aren't covered," Mrs. Kenwood asserted. "You're failing and I know you know the material. You don't put in any effort. You haven't turned in a single homework assignment."

Giving up on the sullen teenager ruse, Alex tried logic, "My lawyer is working on getting me declared an emancipated minor and I'm leaving school as soon as that happens."

"That's a mistake," Mrs. Kenwood opined. "You should never skip education."

"You're a good person, Mrs. Kenwood, but really, you don't need to worry about me." Alex wondered if there was anything at all she could say to make the woman leave her alone. Alex couldn't be angry with her. The woman was just doing her job and doing it well. In fact, all of the Kingsport Academy teachers were excellent. They just weren't what Alex needed.

"It's my job to worry about you," the woman insisted. "You're young and inexperienced. Right now everything seems like an emergency, that life will pass you by if you don't rush forward. It won't. Take your time."

Perhaps the teacher was right? What difference would a few more years make? Alex walked over to the window and peered out. "Mrs. Kenwood, I noticed you are reading Silverman's Arithmetic of Elliptic Curves. What page are you on?"

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"Humor me. What page are you on?"

"Fine." Ms. Kenwood reached behind her and yanked the book out of her bag. She opened to her bookmark. "202."

Alex stepped over to the whiteboard. "Exercise 7.3, the Weierstrass equations, uh, on page 203." Alex wrote the given equation up on the board and then explained the answer. She set the whiteboard marker back in its tray. "Mrs. Kenwood, please, I'll be ok." Alex erased the whiteboard and left.

At least that's what Alex wanted to do. Instead she touched the glass window pane. Outside, it was a sunny, wintery cold, with scattered clouds - the type of day that she used to hope for when she was living in the woods - perfect hunting weather. "I'll consider it, Mrs. Kenwood, honest. Can I go? Mr. Stratdeer will be starting English soon."

Mrs. Kenwood sighed and dismissed her, with "It's 'honestly' and 'may I', and yes, you may go. Bring your homework tomorrow."

Alex fervently hoped Milo would come back with the approved paperwork before she did do something irreparably stupid. Part of her necessary business strategy involved hiding her intelligence. She had to let people believe she was stupid and foolish.

The next day Alex actually turned in her geometry homework. It was a pointless waste of her time, but Milo had informed her that the social worker was coming by later that day and Alex wanted to be able to honestly say, "I turn in homework." Mrs. Kenwood rewarded her by calling on her three times during class, interrupting her thought process and making her unable to work out the details of her next novel.

"Miss Smith, perhaps you can shed some light on Mr. Jaxon's dilemma. Miss Smith!" the teacher's voice was loud and somewhat grumpy.

A fourth time calling on her? The equations for her battery cascaded out of Alex's focus. She'd almost completed another full variation, too. She clamped her teeth together to avoid swearing and glanced up at the equation on the board that Ethan Jaxon had written. She didn't even bother checking the triangle's labels in her book.

"He's comparing parts of the side instead of the whole side." It was a simple geometry mistake. As soon as Alex said it, Ethan saw the error and quickly corrected it.

"Perhaps a little more attention to detail next time, Mr. Jaxon," the teacher reprimanded, nodding at him to return to his seat.

Someone chortled. Ethan Jaxon flushed and went to sit down. His glare at Alex promised retribution, but she barely noticed, already refocusing on her own formulas.

That evening, the social worker arrived, with her clipboard and a dour expression. She walked through the house while Emma trailed behind, clearly upset at having a stranger going through her personal space. Rico and Alex waited in the small living room, each pretending not to notice how upset Emma was. After the home inspection, the social worker and Emma joined them.

The social worker glanced at her clipboard, "Are you doing ok here, Alex?"

"Yes, Ma'am." Alex had at least gained a significant grasp of polite responses between the psychiatric hospital and the private school.

"Do you get enough to eat?"

"Yes, Ma'am. Mrs. Marino is an excellent cook." An exaggeration, but Alex thought it might help. Maybe Emma would even be a little pleased?

"What did you have for breakfast this morning?"

"Oatmeal and fruit, Ma'am." Alex hadn't eaten it because of the upcoming choir class.

"No protein?" The woman tapped her finger on the clipboard.

"Oatmeal is 15% protein, Ma'am. I'm not nutritionally deficient. Mrs. Marino made a fine meat lasagne for dinner tonight." Which Alex also hadn't eaten, because she found the extra acid from the tomato sauce made her empty stomach queasy from skipping breakfast and lunch. Alex did not glance at either Emma or Rico, who were both perfectly aware of her erratic abstinence.

The social worker added some notes on her clipboard. "Are you sleeping?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"What time do you go to bed?"

"9 p.m., Ma'am." Alex really had no idea. She just picked a time at random. She knew she was often up until early morning working on her novels or battery equations. Emma and Rico also knew this. Emma frequently came by her room to tell her to turn off the light and go to sleep, and Alex usually just nodded and waved her away, ignoring her.

"What time do you get up?" the social worker continued.

"6 a.m., Ma'am."

"Does Mrs. Marino come in and wake you up?"

"No, Ma'am. I have an alarm clock." Alex never set that alarm clock. Emma had come by to wake her up on more than one occasion, but Alex bet there was some checkmark on that form that said, "adult enters child's bedroom without permission".

The social worker put a checkmark on her form. "I received a report from your school. Want to tell me what is happening there?"

"It's an ok school, Ma'am, but it's a private school. I'm getting some demerits and detention because I'm not used to the rules. They have a lot more than public school, Ma'am." There, that should be sufficient.

"Is there a reason you can't get your homework done?" the social worker inquired. She didn't sound the least bit curious; she was just following some required procedure.

"I turn in homework," Alex replied. "Just not all of it." With that, Alex slipped a truth into her lies, even if grossly misrepresenting a single assignment.

"Is it too hard?" the social worker asked.

"No, Ma'am. It just takes me a long time."

The social worker made a note on her clipboard. "Your teachers say you are frequently distracted. Is there anything bothering you?"

"The teachers are a lot different than my last school, which was public. They're very intense. It's just hard to concentrate all the time, and I swear the second I look out the window, the teacher yells at me for not paying attention, and gives me a demerit. I'm sure I'll start adjusting soon." Alex hoped that account wouldn't reflect poorly on Kingsport Academy's fine educators.

The social worker frowned and wrote some notes. The interview continued for some time, with Alex diligently stretching the truth or outright lying. Both Rico and Emma listened but did not contribute or contradict anything. After the social worker had left, Rico turned to Alex, "Do you ever plan to do your homework?"

Alex answered honestly, "No."

Rico cleared his throat. "Going to participate in choir class?"

"No." Alex wanted to go crawl into bed. She felt a little light-headed, probably from not having eaten all day. Maybe she'd eat a bit of bread first.

Rico frowned. "I know Milo is working on your emancipated minor application, but until then, you are still our responsibility. If there's anything at all we can do to help you..."

"I'm doing just fine, Rico. There's nothing to worry about." Alex gave him a winning smile, which felt false on her face, and went toward the kitchen. She could hear Emma, still in the living room with Rico, angrily whispering her concern and his attempted calming reply; the house was simply too small for anyone to have a truly private conversation. Alex ignored this. Hopefully they'd be free of her soon.

Alex expected the emancipated minor petition to get approved any day. She had everything lined up and ready to go just as soon as it was signed. It was time for her to find a CEO for her company that could handle the day-to-day business while she worked on money, strategy, and battery production.

Alex stared at the brick building of the Kingsport Academy and thought, "Why not? The point of these private schools is to build future business contacts. Might as well see if such a thing has any merit." She walked over to Ethan, who would one day inherit Cartwright-Jaxon Engineering. Maybe she could merge with them for startup cash and not have them as a competitor? Ethan was standing with his usual following of classmates.

"Ethan, may I have a moment of your time?" 'May I' still sounded pretentious to her. In her old street gang, Mason would have boxed her for condescension if she'd spoken like that. Communication had to be completely designed for the recipient's expectations or the immediate negative impact would prevent any hope for success. Ethan, on the other hand, would surely berate her for 'can I'.

Ethan shrugged. "I guess." His tone suggested she was bothering him despite the 'may I'.

"Privately?" Alex indicated his classmate-followers.

"Ok." He rolled his eyes at the young men standing with him who moved off. "What is it?"

Alex asked, "Going to work for your dad when you graduate?"

"When I graduate from college, yes," Ethan answered patronizingly .

"I am starting a business," Alex chirped happily, despite his dour attitude. "I don't suppose you'd be interested in blowing off the rest of your school and being CEO of a startup company, would you?"

"Of course not." He rolled his eyes.

Alex pressed on, "Could you recommend some people who might be interested in the position? Perhaps get me an interview with them?"

Ethan thought a moment and then said, "No."

Alex blinked at this curtness. "Why not?"

"First, I don't want any connection with the mafia." Ethan ticked this off on his finger.

"This business is entirely legal and above-board." But, sadly, connected with the mafia, which was unavoidable considering Alex was the head of the family if only in concept.

"Second, startup businesses are everywhere and they collapse within five years generally. They're a poor risk." He held up his hand to keep her from interrupting. "And last, if you are going to take a risk, you have to evaluate all aspects. You, oh mafia lord, are a poor risk. Not once since coming to this school have you shown anything that vaguely resembles talent - not in any subject. You can't even bother yourself to sing a couple notes in music class. You don't have what it takes to be a success. You're not a good risk and I won't contaminate my reputation by recommending you. Get your degree. Get a job if you have to, but leave business to professionals."

Alex bit her lower lip and then conceded with as much grace as she could muster, "Ok, well, thank you for your time as well as your honesty, Ethan."

Ethan half-bowed to her and strode back over to his friends.

Alex had known he wouldn't agree to be her CEO, but he didn't need to be so mean about it. He could have at least given her a couple names. She rubbed at her temple and went to get a drink from the nearest water fountain. So much for private school business contacts. She'd have to start looking for random resumes online. Alex decided she wouldn't share any of her business with another company; her business model wouldn't fit any modern company anyway.

Later that day, as Alex was grabbing books from her locker, Alan Pickering came over to her. He was one of the young men who routinely followed Ethan around. "Um. Excuse me," he glanced over his shoulder toward the room's doorway. Ethan and the others had already gone out.

"Yes?" Alex finished shoving the remainder of her books into her locker and closed it. She certainly didn't need to bring any of them home. She turned to Alan who held out a piece of paper to her.

"Ethan said you were looking for someone to CEO a startup business. These are some people who will see you if you give them my name." Alan cleared his throat and shifted his weight uncomfortably. "They won't take the job, but they might know someone."

Alex raised an eyebrow at him and took the offered paper, glancing at it. Six names, addresses, and phone numbers were written in painfully neat block letters.

Alan shifted his weight and looked at his toes. "Ethan can be a jerk sometimes, but the rest of us aren't that bad."

"Thank you, Alan. This is unexpected." His deep red blush suggested he was surprised that Alex knew his name.

Alan raised his eyes to hers. "I wish..." his voice trailed off and his hand pulled at his jacket, and then he whispered, "Please don't tell anyone I gave you those." He turned to leave.

Alex reached out and touched his arm. "I won't say anything, but I will remember." She let her hand fall back to her side.

Alan half-nodded and strode quickly away, blush still strong on his face. Alex stared after him thoughtfully. Whatever prompted him to do that? How likely was it those names were a standard high school joke? Milo would find out for her.

The names checked out. Not only were they CEOs of startups, but when Alex called the first, he told her he'd been expecting her call. Unfortunately, he was not interested in a new venture at this time; he was still getting his current project stabilized, and no, he didn't really know anyone who was looking for a new job, but he wished her luck. From the six names, she got three more. Alex scheduled two interviews from that and Milo reminded her that she couldn't actually do anything legally binding until the emancipated minor paperwork got approved, which hopefully would happen any day.

When Milo met her after school in her limousine two days later, Alex was thrilled. "Did it get approved? YES!"

"Er. No. We have some things we need to discuss." Milo's mouth was set in a grim line.

When the limousine was underway, Alex asked hesitantly, "What's the bad news?"

"First, there's the matter of your current school record. The judge is screaming about your demerits and Saturday detentions. Your grades are also not helping your case." Milo didn't need to say which judge. Alex's petition for the emancipated minor was apparently stalled.

Alex clenched and unclenched her fist, but kept the frustration out of her voice. "It will help future cases though. What concession does he want?"

"All B's and no more demerits at all." Milo reached over to the refrigerator and withdrew some water and an apple. He handed these to Alex.

"Transfer me to a school without a mandatory music class." Alex set the apple aside, but opened the water and drank some.

Milo frowned at the apple, but continued with his standard factual tone, "We can't. It's not safe. Your outer perimeter has picked up two teams in the last month. They can't get to you in the school, and outside the school, you've already got a dozen people protecting you."

Alex felt her heart skip several beats. "I thought it was just this car, driver, and bodyguard."

Milo's lip twitched guiltily. "Mario didn't want to worry you."

Alex swore. "Ok, those supplies I said I needed? I want them immediately." Some of them, without the shelter of the company, would be illegal.

"The money in your trust is still locked until you are legally an adult and can't be spent," Milo informed her. "We might be able to get some of it from the family, but it'll be close and will definitely limit the family's ability to do business. You could potentially get a business partner to front some of the cost."

Alex winced at the suggestion, recalling Ethan's disdain. "No. It's my company. No partners, no stockholders, no investors, no non-family loans." Ethan had certainly cemented that decision.

"That's not normally how businesses work." Milo got himself some water.

As it looked like Milo was about to go into a long, if knowledgeable dissertation on how to operate a business, Alex cut him off with a gesture. "I know."

Milo sighed at this and cleared his throat. "That's not everything we need to discuss."

Alex groaned. What else could there be? When was she going to have some good luck to balance all her recent bad luck?

Milo pulled some papers from his briefcase. "Have a look at these." While she scanned through them, he explained, "That's a court order saying that Sal's estate, now yours, is liable for all your medical and psychiatric bills, and because you had no insurance and were not covered by the state at the time, the estate is required to pay the full amount immediately."

"Unbelievable." Alex shook her head. "They kidnap me and lock me up against my will, torture me with drugs and buzzers, and then they want me to pay for it?"

"Yes." Milo opened his hand, palm up. "If you'd like, I can take care of this. I can issue a countersuit for mistreatment, but again, your grades and demerits are going to get brought up, and as you still aren't legally an adult, any resulting funds will go to the state."

"Hmmm. That sounds good. Oh, wait. Demand a full itemized listing of everything first - all services, medications, incidentals. "

Milo rubbed his chin and then his eyes opened in enlightenment. "Medications, I see. We can finally find out what that doctor gave you. That could certainly be useful information for the countersuit, particularly if we can prove you were allergic to them and they were aware of that."

"That's if they can produce a list in a reasonable time and don't lie about it. Luciano destroyed all the records, yes?" At Milo's nod, Alex continued, "They'll have to make stuff up. It'll be a strange balance between greed and not wanting to incriminate themselves, if they think about it."

Milo rubbed his chin "Timewise, you entered the hospital after Sal died but before the reading of the will, so inheritance is going to be blurry. They can say the trust was yours already and we can say it wasn't until the reading of the will."

Alex closed her eyes and leaned back. "Take care of it, Milo," she sighed. She needed that emancipated minor status.

"Very well." He pulled the papers from her hand, which she readily released, and put them back in his briefcase.

Still with her eyes closed, she said, "On my laptop back at Sal's house, I have 3 finished books. Publish them with you as the pseudo-named author and account holder and use the money from those toward the shopping list. I'll give you all the publishers' information. It won't be very quick money, but should make a lot of it. Also get a million or so from Mario and we'll hit the antique show in Lithia Springs Saturday morning."

"Aren't you due in detention on Saturday?" Milo knew perfectly well that she was.

"Yes, send Rico and Luciano to tell whoever is administrating it that I'm going to be late and if that is unacceptable, I can certainly make it up next week." Alex opened her eyes and looked out the window. "I'll also need the latest listing of the antique show's inventory. The annual Lithia Springs auction usually returns a high profit."

"Skipping detention is not going to help your application for emancipated minor," Milo noted without amusement. "The judge is watching your activities very closely."

"Can't we just break his legs?" she muttered.

"I thought you didn't want to do that?" Milo responded in all seriousness.

"I'm joking!" Alex shot up, eyes wide open. "Milo, I'm joking! Don't hurt the guy, intimidate him, bribe him, or do anything at all to him. He's just doing his job responsibly. Can't fault him for that."

"Bribe? Heh." Milo snorted. "That's not how the family operates. You have so much to learn, young neophyte," he teased.

"Speaking of learning..." Alex pushed the intercom to the driver. "Take us to the library, please." She needed more books to absorb while waiting on music class.

It took five weeks to get all the items she needed for the prototype, mostly purchased with money from antiques, although her books were starting to gain popularity due to some enthusiastic advertising. The judge was still sitting on her emancipated minor paperwork. All three of the interviews for the CEO for her company went badly. They only took one look at her - a young girl still in high school - and politely declined while giving her hollow words of encouragement.

The music teacher continued to give Alex demerits for failing to participate. With Saturday detentions to clear out her demerits, six days out of every week were spent in a frustrating state of wasted time and book-writing meditation. She tried doing homework for class during class and got two more demerits for failing to pay attention, so she started doing it while she was supposed to be sleeping. On the limousine rides to and from school, she dictated her books into her laptop.

Every minute that she could, Alex spent at Sal's house, in the vault, working on her battery. It was painfully slow going, with each step meticulously microscopically and mathematically checked and rechecked. At one point, her sample became contaminated and she had to wait while Milo acquired equipment to turn the vault into a clean room before she could start over.

Alex would later describe the process as harvesting balloons on a variable Gaussian surface using two new particles. Charges moving at a constant speed but changing direction on their circular orbits bounced on a Gaussian surface twisted to make two segments. The balloon surrounding the charge then expanded and shrunk, changing the balloon's shape quickly which resulted in a minuscule net flux in the field lines per unit area.

That net flux was then converted to energy. The individual amounts of energy gained were insignificant, but together they were used to feed a new symmetrical particle that mutated the large number of electron neutrinos attempting to pass through it into an electron. The process was so incredibly fast and the number of electron neutrinos so great that a massive amount of stored energy resulted. As the energy drained off, it was replenished almost immediately. So long as the new particles stayed inside a vacuum, they didn't suicide by being absorbed into the nearest matter and neutralizing and becoming a scatter of redistributed original particles.

Sleep deprived, frustrated, starving, and angry, Alex felt like she might scream. She was also a little terrified she might make a mistake on her battery construction. If the slightest thing were off, the loop wouldn't stabilize and the spinoff radiation would be deadly. All she needed was the first one and then it could be grown and harvested to make more. It wasn't organic, but that was the best way to think about it. She ran through all of the equations for the thousandth time, checking that everything was within parameters. Every test she could think of, she'd done. All she had to do was flip a simple mechanical light switch.

It only took one more Saturday detention to convince Alex to do it. She went straight to Sal's house afterwards, and strode down into the basement, glancing at the piano as she passed it. That was nothing, compared to the fear of a possible excruciating death. Again, don't think, do. She changed into her clean suit and punched in the vault password and went in and flipped the switch before she could hesitate. The light bulb she had attached popped and the resistor panel in front of it burst into flame.

Alex shouted profanity and scrambled back out of the vault and shut the door. The lack of oxygen would put the flames out. She stripped off the clean suit and dropped it on the floor next to the vault. She taped a note on the door above the combination that said, "Radioactive waste inside. Do not open door. Dispose of vault intact underground per hazardous waste laws and regulations of the Resource Conservation and Recovery Act (RCRA)."

Alex rubbed at her arms and wondered if she had power or radiation poisoning. She was a bit wobbly as she went upstairs to the kitchen and made herself a simple sandwich to eat. She had a Geiger counter, but it was now locked in the vault where it wouldn't do her any immediate good at all. If she were exposed to a deadly dose of radiation, she'd start seeing signs any time within the next three days.

Sunday, Alex spent doing homework for the upcoming weeks and discreetly checking her temperature with Emma's thermometer. Her nerves were too frayed to focus enough to process the few remaining antiques or dictate her books. On Monday, she accrued enough demerits from lack of attention to require Saturday detention again. Tuesday, she had Emma call the school and excuse her due to being ill.

Aside from a case of terrified nerves, Alex seemed fine. She stayed in bed anyway and tried to catch up on her sleep. She assured Rico, then Mario, and then Milo that she was just tired when they called. She wished she could power off her cell phone without incurring their wrath.

By late afternoon, she'd had enough. Alex had to know. She called her limousine driver to take her to Sal's. In the basement, she stared at the vault door and then willed herself to open it. She didn't bother putting on the clean-suit that still lay in a pile on the floor. The intact empty glass container with two electrical leads attached was promising. The resistor board was melted into an obscure black and brown lump and glass from the lightbulb crunched under her shoes.

Alex switched on the Geiger counter and measured everything, starting with herself. Everything was normal with no residual traces of anything abnormal. She took her industrial strength multimeter and checked the glass tube's leads. The multimeter popped with a brilliant spark between the leads. The hairs on her arms stood on end.

"Well, that's power." Alex's voice sounded flat inside the vault confines. She leaned against the wall and pondered the seemingly empty glass tube with a sealed tray-slot in its side. It was new physics. Her formula, sorted out on many long cold winter nights in the tiny cave in the forest, was accurate. Even now, the particles would be multiplying to fill the vacuum, if they hadn't already finished.

Alex took two halves of round flat metal dishes about the size of the smallest hearing aid batteries and set them inside a clamp inside the glass tube's tray. She pushed the tray in, waited a moment, and activated the clamp. She withdrew the tray, extracted the tiny sealed battery and took it over to one of the shelves, where she installed it in a flat rectangle the size of her laptop battery that contained not a battery, but a circuit board that would moderate and convert power as needed. She wished she hadn't fried the multimeter. She took her new "laptop battery" with her, closing and locking the vault behind her. She grabbed her backpack with her laptop in it and left.

Outside, Alex instructed her driver to take her to the nearest hardware store that might sell multimeters. Milo called her and lectured her about random unplanned destinations, particularly when she'd been "too sick to go to school", and she pondered the nature of her cage. She might pretend these people would help her, but ultimately, they, even Milo, reported to Mario. She supposed she should try a little gratitude for having the extra protection and the ability to make her battery years before she'd originally thought would be possible due to funding, but instead, she felt trapped. At what point would she be free?

Using the credit card Milo had given her, she bought not only the best multimeter, but a laptop repair kit for her model. She'd forgotten the other one at Sal's in her rush. Back inside the limousine, she tested her battery. It was exactly as she expected and within specification. She ripped open her laptop and installed the new battery, hoping the lack of a decent grounding system wouldn't fry her computer. Alex powered the computer on. The operating system showed the battery at 100%.

The driver activated the speaker system and asked where Alex wanted to go. It was all she could do not to say "The moon and then the stars. Take me off this crazy planet." Instead she had him take her back to Rico's, where she spent the evening in her room, looking up potential CEOs on the internet. Her computer never dropped below 100% battery and she knew it never would within her lifetime. She felt like flying.

Unexpectedly, the bravery it took to actualize her battery completely neutralized her response to music class. She didn't enjoy it and still had a negative feeling toward it, but the constant gut-wrenching twist in her stomach was gone, as was the annoyingly rapid heartbeat. Apparently nearly dying in excruciating pain from radiation poisoning was more terrifying than mere brutal memories.

"Two demerits and wait in the hall, Miss Smith," the teacher sighed with resignation upon seeing Alex.

Alex shrugged, "I'd like to participate today, if possible?" Her announcement riveted everyone's attention.

"Certainly." The teacher nodded at the pianist who played the 'concert A'.

Alex tentatively tried to repeat it. Her voice had changed since she was a child and was deeper and not as pleasant as it used to be and she had a hard time matching the note. The pianist walked up a few notes and then down a few notes.

"Ok, go stand with the altos over there. Miss Kensington, please share your sheet music with Miss Smith."

Alex moved to the indicated spot and lip-synced the rest of the class. No demerits and she had a working battery. It was time to start working on her picobot fleet so she could build her bioshield. Compared to the math underlying the battery, the picobots were super simple. The hardest part would be getting the initial programming onto them.

The picobots would be impossibly small robots that would operate with a hive-style neural network and would be able to manipulate matter and relay environmental data. They would work in layered units, each with specific functions. She could flood a space with them and know everything about the space at a microscopic level. High speed projectiles (bullets) could be decelerated and caught safely in a net of picobots. A final layer around her would prevent anything from piercing her skin, even if moving slowly. She could be completely safe with a working bioshield.

Alex began designing the picobot programming, taking huge blocks of code from artificial intelligence programs and proven networking and recognition algorithms, specializing the picobot units while allowing them to communicate and share instructions. This kept her busy while attending classes although she acquired a few demerits for lack of attention.

Alex walked into the government office where the judge who wouldn't approve her emancipated minor petition sat. The desk was standard-issue, as was the chair. The items on the desk - a tiffany style lamp that had a pretty stained glass lamp shade with a round brass bottom, a matching brass picture frame (facing the judge), and a very nice leather desk blotter and pen set - looked like gifts more than personal choice.

Behind him, three bookshelves were filled with thick tomes with creases in their bindings - more for use than show. The judge himself was a round, grandfatherly-looking older man, wearing reading glasses. He set down the papers he'd been reading, took off his glasses, and looked up at her.

"Thank you for agreeing to see me, Judge Newton. I'm Alex Smith." She walked over to the right-most guest chair confidently, set her backpack down, and lowered herself into the standard issue metal padded chair.

"Your lawyer was very persistent." The judge emphasized "very" with negative censure.

Alex replied pleasantly, with a comfortable smile. "At my request."

"I have been curious about that. Why would someone leave you a lawyer in their will, completely separate from the rest of the estate?" The judge leaned slightly to his right, and rested his elbow on his armchair.

"Sal Marino knew my business plans." Alex explained, "I think he knew a lawyer would come in handy for getting that up and operating."

"Milo Paul is not a business lawyer," Judge Newton remarked.

"No, Judge Newton, he isn't. He's a criminal defense lawyer, but he does have a minor in tax accounting and it's only a small jump to becoming a full tax lawyer. He's already signed up for another class." That morning. "I'm pretty sure it was handling taxes that Sal had in mind. The company I want to start is potentially going to be dealing with a massive cash flow."

"That sounds overly naive and optimistic," said Judge Newton, sounding almost exactly like Mrs. Kenwood, telling Alex not to leave school - that "I am old and wise and you should pay attention to my words" attitude. Their experience and wisdom couldn't actually help her because they didn't have all of the information about her plans, and secrecy was critical. Sal, who knew the details and who was also experienced and wise, had approved Alex's plan and helped her work out the schedule and strategy. Alex had to choose which words to listen to and apply and she trusted Sal.

Alex acknowledged the judge's wisdom, "I did say potentially. It's also possible I'll lose the entire estate Sal left me as well as any funds I manage to borrow, but I do have high hopes and will be putting all of my energy into it." Just after she said it, Alex realized how apt 'putting energy into it' was and told herself to never use that word again until her battery was public.

"I don't see it working. Miss Smith, as I told Mr. Paul, I don't believe you have the maturity necessary to act responsibly as an adult." Judge Newton was definitely in lecture-mode. "You should finish high school and perhaps go to college. You'll be 18 soon enough."

Alex wondered what she could say that would help him realize she wasn't just a petulant, unthinking child. "Respectfully, Judge Newton, that's three years. That's three years of lost potential income, and perhaps all potential income if someone else comes up with my idea before then. The time when my product will be most useful is now. Every day that passes cuts my profits. My company needs to be in the market first."

Judge Newton reached for a folder off to his right. "I have here a psychiatric evaluation that says you should be under observation and attending routine counseling sessions."

Alex countered, "From a doctor that gave me drugs that I had an allergic reaction to, and then made his judgement based on my drug-induced incoherence."

"I've seen the countersuit Mr. Paul has submitted." He opened the folder and flipped the page. "I also have a report from your school with a steady history of demerits and detentions."

"I know, Judge," Alex confirmed. "I had a problem with music class. I didn't want to sing in front of anyone."

"Shy?" His tone indicated complete disbelief.

Alex grinned. "A bit of anxiety. I've worked that out now."

"Sing something then," Judge Newton ordered.

The instant, ghastly flashback whipped through Alex like lightning and she was suddenly chained in a windowless room with an old upright piano and a dark, ugly man demanding she sing with those exact words as she played. She shook free of the memory.

Alex's voice wavered unsteadily, but she managed a barely audible rendition of the chorus to "It's a Small World". This was a kind of subtle revenge: let that song get stuck in his head for the afternoon. That song was also aptly fitting.

"Are you ok?" The judge looked at her with concern. "Do you need a glass of water?"

Alex swallowed. "I'm fine. Bit of anxiety is all."

"That's quite a performance." Judge Newton clearly thought she was acting anxious, not truly anxious.

Alex wished she was acting with all her soul. "Judge Newton, my ability to sing or not has nothing to do with my suitability to handle adult transactions. There are many adults who don't sing."

The judge turned the page in the folder. "I also have here letters from three of your teachers. They describe you as," he put his glasses on and read, "remarkably intelligent, yet socially challenged, distracted, irresponsible, unconcerned with education, and disdainful. You don't turn in homework or participate in any activities voluntarily."

Alex ground her teeth together. This man was not going to sign her petition. What could she possibly say to convince him? She needed to decide between three years of torture and a serious risk to her business' survival. Alex knew she should wait out the three years rather than risk her business strategy, but she had a working battery; it wasn't a dream or a hypothesis or a potential failure. She could adjust her strategy if she needed to. Alex heard herself say, " May I share a secret with you, Judge Newton?"

Clearly frustrated with her stubborn unwillingness to listen to reason, he exhaled in resignation and gestured at her to go ahead.

"The classes are boring and a waste of my time," Alex stated honestly. "I find sitting in them torturous, considering I could be getting my company underway, and your admittedly honorable and noble concern for my best interests is frustrating and would be demoralizing if I weren't so determined to succeed."

"If you are so bored," Judge Newton articulated precisely, "You should ask for harder classes and prove that you belong in them."

Alex retorted, "That school does not offer classes that would challenge me at any level."

"Bull."

"I'll prove it. Pick a book from behind you." At his glare, Alex gestured at him encouragingly.

When Alex kept nodding at him to do it, Judge Newton randomly picked the nearest thick tome. He went to hand it to her and she shook her head.

"Which one is it?" Alex asked brightly. He told her and Alex demanded he pick a page and read the first sentence from one of the paragraphs. Different editions would have different page numbers. She then closed her eyes and finished the paragraph for him. She opened her eyes and turned her palm face up toward him. "You could choose any one of those books and any page."

Judge Newton reached behind himself to the shelf and took another book, thicker with small dense text and Alex repeated her demonstration.

Midway through her recitation of the appallingly boring paragraph, she stopped and inquired, "Do you really think hours writing out material in high school textbooks is a good use of my time? I have not neglected my education, Judge Newton. I just don't advertise it. Only two other people know. Please sign the emancipated minor papers," she pleaded.

After a moment, Judge Newton declared, "No. Deception is also not a qualifying trait."

Milo had known how this interview was going to go, Alex realized. Milo had filled her backpack with bribe-money, but Judge Newton wouldn't take a bribe; he was painfully honest and forthright. Maybe she could use the money in another way? Alex reached in her backpack and withdrew a bundle of one hundred dollar bills. She set it on his desk, but close to her.

"Is that a bribe?" his voice had an acid edge. No way would this judge ever take a bribe.

"No, Judge Newton," Alex answered caustically, deliberately pitching her voice to reflect sour anger. "It's my pocket change." She withdrew another one. "Do you know why the Marino family is interested in me?" She paused, adding another stack of bills. "I accompanied Sal to auctions for just about 10 months total." She put two more bundles of bills next to the previous three. " During that time, I made Sal approximately two million dollars on antiques trading. All legally. We have receipts." She put the final bundle next to the others. "Four times the amount of money sitting on your desk in fact. Milo Paul isn't an asset. He's a leash." She swiped the stack of bills back into her book bag and stood up. "And you can set me free, but you're looking at a folder of documented nonsense and trying to do the right thing by it."

The judge's eyes had gotten bigger with each stack of bills. "I'll have you moved to a new foster home immediately."

"No! Don't do that!" Alex yelped and then explained, "They're going to fund my business startup expenses. All legally of course," she added quickly. "We're all going to make a mountain of money. That is, if I can get started and don't miss this window of opportunity. Please consider it, Judge Newton. I know exactly what I'm doing and what my goals are. Thank you for hearing me." She left.

Outside in the hallway, Alex went to the nearest water fountain and got a drink. The tremble in her hand wasn't an act. Curse him for bringing up that memory. She was sure to have nightmares again that night. Maybe if she focused on the picobot programming she could get it out of her head enough to get some sleep.

The Founder of Colony One wishes everyone to know that she is human. She made mistakes. She did things inefficiently. On many occasions, she could not see the trees for she was too focused on the forest. Without the people paying attention to such things, Colony One would not exist.

When you spot her errors, forgive her. The answers are obvious sometimes, especially when you are not head down, rushing from task to task, often not even able to sleep, so bent on doing and getting done, that evaluating and improving the process is beyond comprehension.

Alex climbed into the limousine where Milo waited, reading a book. As soon as the door closed, she let out a string of profanity that would have impressed her old street gang. They were on the fifth month since Alex had been granted the emancipated minor status and were now in Alabama on yet another CEO interview.

Milo closed his book. "Went well, did it?"

"This one was the rudest yet," Alex growled. "You would not believe some of the things he said to me." Alex's hands curled into fists and she knocked them together. "I keep wondering if you should be doing these interviews, but ultimately, he or she has to be able to work with me. I am the age I am and I am a girl. This was supposed to be the easy part."

Milo hmmm'd sympathetically.

"You don't want to be a CEO, do you?" she asked plaintively.

"I have a job, thank you. A very nice one with a brilliant employer who gives me eclectic and interesting tasks," Milo replied calmly.

Alex exhaled tiredly, letting her anger fizzle. It was wasted energy.

Milo set his book aside. "Might I suggest an alternative? A little bit of a break?"

"Sure. Why not?" Alex sighed deeply and rubbed at her thighs. The black business skirt, pantyhose, and low heels weren't very comfortable. "I need to come up with more interviewees anyway." The idea of wading through even more resume-search websites made her feel ill.

Milo smiled. "The Hoover Auction house is having its annual bash tomorrow and I couldn't help noticing how close we are."

"I don't deserve you, Milo. That is an excellent idea." The tension in Alex's shoulders released. Yes, she could take a break and do something she knew she'd succeed at. It would certainly help her battered ego.

"We can stop at a bank, grab some cashier's checks, and be there in time for the opening." Milo handed her his open laptop which was suspiciously conveniently located on the seat next to him. It also contained one of her new batteries. "I already pulled the public catalog. I also purchased tickets to the private auction and the very nice woman on the phone has promised to send that inventory list later this evening." He leaned over and hit the intercom to the driver. "The bank, Jef."

The limousine pulled into the bank's parking lot and Alex stretched. "I'll go make the withdrawal. It'll be a good exercise in trying out my new ID, don't you think?"

"You do like to get beat up." Milo followed her out of the car. "I have to go in and use the facilities anyway. Just wave if you need me."

Alex nodded. She joined the queue and Milo went past her toward the restrooms. She looked around avidly. This would be her first time doing anything in a real bank. It made her oddly nervous. Her eye caught an animated conversation going on inside one of the glass-windowed rooms and she decided to practice her lip reading. The skill might come in handy one day.

"And I'm telling you, Sir," the young man facing her was saying, "You can't do this. It's illegal. I have a degree in business and I'm telling you it's illegal. It puts everyone's money at risk."

The man whose back was to Alex said something, gesturing wildly.

The young man shook his head. "I won't support you on this."

The other man leaned forward, probably speaking.

The young man shook his head angrily. "No, you aren't firing me. I quit!" He came out into the bank's lobby, looked around somewhat wildly, went to another office, jammed some items from the desk into his briefcase, and stormed out of the bank.

Alex's head spun. A degree in business. Newly jobless. Honest. Outspoken. Young enough to maybe take a chance. She quickly stepped out of the line and followed the man out of the bank. She ran as fast as she could in the low heels and skirt across the parking lot to catch up to him at his economy sedan, fumbling with his keys. "Excuse me, Sir?" The young man turned to face her and she asked rather desperately, "May I have a moment of your time?"

"I'm really not interested in whatever you are selling," he grumbled.

"Oh! I'm not a peddler." But she was selling something. "I couldn't help but notice your conversation in the bank. I lip read."

"I'm not going to discuss the bank's business with you. Go inside and ask if you want," the young man grumbled.

Alex smiled as if she were the sun. He would keep things confidential, too! She waved her hand in dismissal, shaking her head. "I... um... Would you like a job?"

"What?" He dropped his keys in genuine surprise.

"You said you had a degree in business and you're obviously concerned with what's legal and can speak your mind. Those are the top three requirements for this position." Well, in the top ten, maybe, but was that relevant?

The man groaned. "Kid, what are you going on about?"

Alex grit her teeth. "Please don't call me kid. I have had a miserable day just like you. The last thing I need is yet another person discriminating against me because of age."

He rubbed at his temple with his left hand. He obviously wanted her to go away.

Alex pressed on, "I'm an emancipated minor which means I'm legally an adult. I'm super smart, super rich, and my new company needs a CEO."

"I'm not a CEO. I'm a bank accountant," the man stated .

"But you could learn to be a CEO. Wouldn't you like to have a try at running a company? Do it right. Not have to deal with that..." she pointed back at the bank, "kind of idiocy?" She saw Milo come out of the bank, looking around frantically. He spotted her and headed in their direction. "Look, why don't I treat you to lunch and we can discuss it. At worst, you get a free lunch and an interesting story to tell your friends."

Milo arrived with an exasperated, "Alex, what are you doing!"

The young man looked at Milo hopefully, "Is this your daughter, Sir?"

Alex introduced Milo with, "This is Milo Paul, my lawyer. He's here to sort out any problems with people not believing I'm an emancipated minor, and to make any necessary adjustments to legal documents for the job I was telling you about."

"Alex, you cannot hire some random person," Milo looked over at the young man apologetically, "In the parking lot!"

"He's got a business degree," Alex countered. "I've done 38 interviews in offices. It's about time for some variety." Milo looked like he wanted to throttle her, so she continued cheerfully, "I didn't get a chance to make the withdrawal. Could you do that and then meet us for lunch?" Rather than give the young man a way to say no, she phrased her question so that acceptance was inherent, "Where's a good place to eat around here?"

"There's a sandwich shop not too far that has good food," the man said. He was obviously still in a daze from having quit his job.

"Great!" said Alex, pretending he'd just agreed to lunch. "Meet us there, Milo?"

Milo looked like he wanted to say something else entirely, but instead asked, "How much money do you want?"

"Um. 400,000, and maybe a thousand in cash?" Alex answered. "Oh, and tell Mario to audit this bank. There might be a problem with our money in the near future."

"Ok, boss." He left in the direction of their limousine where he knocked on the window and then pointed over at Alex.

The young man's eyes went wide. Alex offered brightly, "I did say I was rich. Come on, we'll give you a ride if you want or we can follow."

"It's only two blocks that way." The man pointed farther down the street.

"Let's walk then." Alex raised her eyebrows at him enthusiastically. The weather was warm enough if a bit overcast for a November day. She didn't think it would rain any time soon. "I would love to stretch my legs. That barge is roomy, but it's still sedentary. What's the name of the restaurant?"

The young man told her and she took her cell from her pocket and texted the name to Milo and her driver with the comment, "We're walking." She ignored the following beeps indicating incoming messages. "Shall we? By the way, I'm Alex Smith. You are?"

"Brian Kimberly. "

"Nice to meet you, Brian. I hope both our days improve." They started walking and then had to go back for Brian's keys, which gave her bodyguard/driver a chance to catch up. Alex introduced him to Brian and the bodyguard/driver said Milo would bring the car and then proceeded to follow a short distance behind them.

Brian shot an uneasy glance at her bodyguard and Alex shrugged it away with, "Unfortunate side effect of wealth."

"So what is your company?" Brian asked. His darting eyes suggested he was rethinking coming with her.

"Manufacturer at its foundation," Alex answered without actually answering. "Although it'll have some community scope so we can support employees with services, much like the companies in the early 1900s did."

He seemed to finally settle into the idea that he was going to lunch with a stranger because his shoulders relaxed. "What's the product?"

Again, Alex didn't actually answer. "I have a working prototype that violates no patents and no laws and will sell to a large number of people. You'll need to sign a non-disclosure agreement before I tell you, and even then, not out in the open where anyone might overhear."

"That sounds extreme for a simple job interview," Brian remarked.

Alex could tell he still didn't believe he was on a job interview. She nodded agreeably. "Yeah, but secrecy is absolutely essential to the initial success of the company. Do you have any idea how thrilled I was that you refused to discuss the bank's business with me? Particularly after just getting fired. It shows great self-control."

"Well, I'm probably going to have to go and ask for my job back tomorrow," Brian grumbled. "I have bills that need to be paid."

Alex glanced at his hand, which was wedding-ring free. "Are you married?" He seemed too young to be married. It wouldn't matter either way.

"No. I have a mountain of tuition bills." He seemed resigned to the fact.

Alex planned to pay tuition for her employees and knew it would eat a significant amount of her money. Education and self-development could not be compromised though, not if she wanted to create a society where individuals would truly care about each other. "Recently graduated?"

"Last year. You'd think that a degree would guarantee a job, but it doesn't. It took me eight months to find this one," Brian complained.

They arrived at the restaurant - a small, busy delicatessen. Alex's bodyguard waited outside and Alex promised to get him take-out. The person at the check-in table greeted Brian by name and peered at Alex curiously. They were given a table along the middle of the wall.

Brian's phone buzzed and he ignored it. "How much does the job pay?"

"It's less than normal for a CEO." Alex started and Brian rolled his eyes. "Everyone, including myself is on the same pay scale. You start at the base salary of $30,000 and each year, we'll have a cost of living increase, as well as potential for an exemplary service bonus increase. We balance the low salary with amazing benefits."

"I make more than that entry level at the bank," Brian pointed out.

"Not once you add in benefits." Alex knew the base salary was going to leave many of their positions unfilled for a while. "Medical, dental, eye care, insurance, tuition. All covered entirely by the company for the employee and for direct family members and dependents."

Brian snorted. "Your company is going to fail."

At least he thought her company would fail because of its policies, not because of her gender and age. Hopefully he didn't think her gender and age created those policies, although that could be useful for her competitors to believe. Alex declared, "I certainly hope that's what our competitors think. The company will also cover rent and utilities on an apartment with size adjusted for family members. We're going to operate at a significant loss for a while, but I have our finances covered and we can go over it in detail once you are hired." His phone buzzed again and Alex asked, "Do you need to take that?"

Brian shook his head. "They'll call back. I've always thought it was rude to play with my phone when I'm with someone."

Alex wondered guiltily if he was referring to her texting Milo and her driver earlier. Luckily, the waitress came and took their order, interrupting that topic. Brian ordered 'his usual' and Alex ordered food for Milo as well as two to-go lunches and told the waitress not to wait for their third person but to go ahead and bring the food when it was ready.

"So where is this company of yours located?" Brian prompted.

"Atlanta. Our initial building is under construction already." Her money was dissolving quickly under "unexpected building costs". Sal had forewarned her of this phenomenon, though, so she was prepared.

"You're building? It's almost like you want to fail." Brian pulled on his ear in bafflement.

"Mmmm hmmm," Alex said cheerily, with her eyes sparkling. "I have a community interest there. I'm dumping a lot of money into the area to fix up local buildings and the environment for the residents. Besides, our company building has a few unique needs for security and I wanted to make sure there aren't any unanticipated loopholes. For example, the building will be a faraday cage except on certain floors where we'll have extra boosted antennas to compensate."

"What are you producing?" Brian emphasized 'are' in concern.

Alex returned her menu to the little metal clip designed for that purpose on the table. "Your office space will take up an entire floor in the building which can be the top floor if you like. I thought it was a nice design, with space for your secretary, a couple different size meeting rooms, and your own private office, but as we're still building, you can change it if you like. You'll also have nearly complete autonomy with respect to the daily operation of the company. You'll have control of anything that doesn't interfere with the company's long term goals."

Brian listened to this list with his head slightly tilted to the left. The way his eyes looked up every so often meant he was actually listening and thinking. "Why are you interviewing me? It sounds like you need a real CEO."

"No one else will hear me out," Alex grumbled. "I mentioned I've had a really awful day. This morning's interview, hmmm, let's just say it was not pleasant." She unwrapped her napkin-covered silverware and set it aside. "Think of it this way: You come work for me, stay long enough to get some decent resume fodder, and then jump to a much higher paid job. Blame any failures on the company owner's impossible and crazy demands. For example, you know that building a space and offering amazing benefits are a recipe for financial disaster, and you warned the owner that this was so, but the owner wouldn't budge on it, so you are simply executing your job as directed."

Brian coughed. "Why would you say that? That's not what you should say in a job interview."

Alex grinned. "Because once you have signed on, seen the product, and heard the long term plan, you aren't going to leave. This is a life-long career that will be the most amazing and fulfilling adventure that you could possibly imagine."

"I think you're looney," Brian commented.

"I think there are 38 people I've interviewed that are going to be kicking themselves in 10 years." Alex's toes wiggled inside her shoe anxiously. She wouldn't show any outward sign, but she really wanted him to say yes. She liked him. More specifically, she liked that he spoke to her as if she were an adult. She liked his honesty. Alex had a very strong gut feeling that Brian was who she needed. Maybe she couldn't hire the CEO she desired, but she could grow one, and she could tell that sales pitch was convincing him. "Give me three months to prove I'm not."

Brian's phone buzzed yet again and he continued to ignore it. "You don't know anything about me. You have no clue if I'm even capable of doing the job."

"You seem bright. Learn anything you don't know on the job. Take whatever classes you want. I'll help and support you in any way that you need." Alex wondered how desperate she sounded. Probably too desperate. "I'm putting everything I have and everything I ever will have into this."

"Why aren't you taking CEO for yourself then?" Brian returned swiftly.

"I'm research and development and money acquisition. I won't have time to take care of company operations." Alex saw Milo arrive outside with her briefcase and stop to talk with her bodyguard before coming in.

Their food arrived just before Milo who handed her the briefcase and sat down. "I thought you might need this. Sorry it took so long. Apparently, the bank's accounts manager walked off the job this morning and they had to call corporate for authorization."

Brian asked Milo, "So have you seen this product prototype she's talking about?"

Milo was busy rearranging his plate, silverware, and food. He was a little bit on the obsessive compulsive side about the arrangement of certain things. "I have."

"Will it sell?" Brian apparently wanted someone else to verify that the job even existed.

Milo looked at Alex, who nodded permission at him. Milo answered, "It'll sell. Every bit of crazy paranoid secrecy she exhibits is valid. Don't let her age or insane business plan worry you. I've reviewed it. It'll work." Milo finished orienting all his food. "What do you do for fun, Brian? What's your hobby?"

"Huh?" Brian set his sandwich back down, without having taken a bite.

With a sideways glance at Alex, Milo said, "Alex is all business and has no clue how to conduct an interview. I'd say it's inexperience, but it's more a complete disregard for the traditional way of doing anything."

Alex set the water she'd been sipping back down and shot Milo a teasing glare.

Brian sipped his soda and answered, "I like astronomy. I don't get to do much here - too much light pollution, but I go out west once a year with my telescope."

Alex bit her lower lip. "I've always liked the stars myself," she agreed. "I've thought about being an astronaut on more than one occasion."

Milo contributed, "Atlanta has worse light pollution than here. She did tell you that's where the job is?" Milo bit into his sandwich.

Brian nodded. "She did." He ate some of his own sandwich.

Milo finished chewing and swallowed and said, "Why don't you tell us a little about your qualifications?" Milo requested, with an encouraging tone.

Brian drank some of his lemonade before answering. "I have a Bachelor of Science in Business Administration with a minor in Energy and Resources from the University of California Berkeley. I have a few minimum wage retail jobs and eight months at a bank that is probably going to record me as being fired." He hesitated and then added, "And I have three summers being a dinosaur performer at The Living Desert in California."

Milo pushed his now used but carefully refolded napkin back into place. "What would you say your greatest strength is?"

"Honesty, maybe. I speak up about how things might improve. Might also be my greatest weakness," Brian amended ruefully.

Milo looked over at Alex briefly and then continued his questions, "What are your goals for the future?"

Brian thought for a moment, and then answered. "I've always wanted to run an environmental cleanup company. See things get done right. There are too many shortcuts that leave the underlying contamination in place."

Alex inhaled sharply. Brian was perfect. She picked up the briefcase Milo had brought and withdrew a folder. "The job's yours if you want it." She pushed her plate with its uneaten hummus wrap aside and opened the folder. "Here's information about the company, including our federal Employer Identification Number, so you can check us out. The website isn't up yet, but you can arrange that if you take the job. Here's a cashier's check to cover moving expenses as well as an airline ticket out. Employee forms, non-disclosure agreement, yada yada. Eventually, we'll want a resume to stuff in the HR files. If you give me copies of your university tuition bills, the company will pay that off too. Think it over, discuss it with your family and friends, and some time in the next seven days, let me know. Cash the check if you might take the job; tear it up if you won't. My contact information is also in here." She gave Brian the folder. He looked daunted. "Oh, and please don't post to social media. It's not time for any kind of publicity yet."

Milo casually reached over and pushed Alex's hummus wrap back at her. "Eat. You're always in such a rush."

Brian set the folder next to his dish and then said, "If it sounds too good to be true, it is. What's the bad side of taking this job."

Milo snorted. "Hah. You have to work with her."

"Oh, thanks, Milo," Alex grimaced at Milo. Then seriously, she said, "For a while, people are going to call you a fool and an idiot because the company will have some absurd policies, like paying benefits and such. The business community is going to blame you and call you inexperienced and naive. Now, to counter that, I'm perfectly happy if you respond that you are only obeying the eccentric company owner, because you will be, but they're likely going to think you are a weak fool for not being able to convince me to run a business correctly."

Milo pointed at her hummus wrap and Alex ignored this, saying, "Also, you are not allowed to name me by name or gender so it'll be a little challenging. Just refer to me as 'the owner'. I'm also going to be working within the company as a custodian. It lets me go everywhere and identify any problems, and gives me some nice blocks of time to sneak off to do other work. Mostly though, it's going to be your reputation. You'll have to put on your dinosaur suit skills and pretend not to be perturbed. You can gnash your teeth on my shoulders as much as you need to, but only mine and only in private. Even the other employees aren't to know I own the business, at least for a while."

Milo cut her off with a gesture, and a stern finger toward her food. He said, "You'll be the public face of the company, but you are not a fall-guy; Alex just doesn't want to spend all her time arguing with employees about the business policies. The business is going to succeed. It just isn't going to look like it. "

Alex picked up the wrap and nibbled at it, trying very hard not to stand and jump up and down screaming, "Please take the job! Please take the job!"

"That sounds really nuts." Brian's hand touched the folder where the really large check resided.

Milo drank some of his water. "Another downside is that you are really inexperienced. You will make mistakes. It's going to be a high pressure job for you and probably very stressful."

Alex put her fingers together in a tent. "That's true, but all you have to do is discuss things with me. We can figure out solutions together. We'd be a collaborating team. I'm not a micromanaging boss who is going to flog you over mistakes. I'm absolutely certain you'll do great in the position once you settle in and get used to being at the top of the food chain."

Milo reached over and turned Alex's plate so the wrap was closer to her hand. "Eat." When Alex opened her mouth to say something else, Milo shook his finger at her and pointed at her food. Then he turned to Brian. "I know this interview is bizarre. Take the folder. Read through the material. Come see the work site. The product is worthy and will sell. It really is a once in a lifetime opportunity."

Alex rewarded this with a reasonably sized mouthful of her wrap.

Alex was sorting antiques in Sal's shop when Brian's phone call came in six days later. She scrambled to retrieve her phone from her pocket and put it on speaker mode. "Hello?"

"Alex Smith, please." The audio had a little bit of static but was clear.

"Ah, Brian! Hello! Have you made a decision?" Alex glanced up to the ceiling and mouthed 'please please please!!!!'.

"I've been through the paperwork and I have a question," Brian stated.

"Yes?" Alex fidgeted nervously.

"That fitness requirement," Brian said. "Are you really planning to only get 25 hours per week from full-time employees?"

"Health, education, family, community, and loyalty. Our core values," Alex explained. "Our building's second floor is split between a gym and the cafeteria. 1 hour per work day to be spent in the company gym, with enough time on either side for changing and showering. So that's 10 hours on fitness. 30 minutes for lunch, plus two 15 minute breaks, one in the morning and one in the afternoon. That drops to 25. We get a standard 40 hour paycheck with a more European style time-commitment."

There was a pause before Brian continued, "That's crazy. You can't possibly make a profit like that."

"Most companies don't really get that many actual productive hours per week," Alex asserted. "People checking personal email, surfing the internet, talking over the water cooler, sitting around in a post-lunch brain fog. I actually think the fitness and healthy food will let people operate twice as efficiently during those work hours and we'll actually get an equivalent 50 hours per week."

"Would it be ok if I came to see the workplace and apartment before saying yes?" Brian inquired.

"Of course." Alex's hand drummed rapidly on her thigh and she bounced on her toes.

"Good, because I'm outside the building." Was that a hint of humor in Brian's voice?

Alex didn't hesitate. "Awesome!!!! I'm not there just now, but I can be there in 10 minutes."

"Does it matter where I park?"

"Not at all. I'm putting in a parking garage but I haven't started on it yet. See you shortly. I'm so glad you're here!" Alex disconnected and called her family security to let them know she was relocating. Brian was HERE!!!!! Alex ran, thankful she'd chosen a comfortable t-shirt and khaki pants with sneakers that day.

Brian was leaning against his car, talking on his phone, when she jogged up. He spotted her approaching and hung up. "I expected to see your limousine," he said in greeting. He was dressed in a nice business suit.

"Nah, I was just a few blocks down. Our buildings are close enough for walking. Fitness, you know." Alex hoped her building looked sufficiently impressive, even though it was simply a plain rectangle with few windows. It was taller than its neighboring buildings but obviously newer. The clear company logo stood out against an elegant frosted glass door, but no larger logo hung on the building. "I'm so glad you're here. How about we start over at the apartments? Give the construction supervisor a chance to clear out his crews."

Brian tilted his head in confusion.

Alex explained, "They don't know I'm paying for it. They're contracted. It's part of my attempt at staying incognito for as long as possible."

"Ah. I have to say that's the part that concerns my family the most and makes me wonder why I'm even here."

"Understandable. Really, it's just a schedule thing. Discussing the company goals and policies is a huge time sink if I have to explain it to each individual that works for the company. You can at least end arguments with 'I'm just doing what the owner has unreasonably demanded.' I know that's not a great answer, but maybe it'll make sense after the tour?"

Alex led the way down the street. Along the way, she pointed out the commercial laundry. "All employees and their families will have a laundry card. The company will have a standing account and will pay for services. The apartments are somewhat on the small side, so I didn't want people have to use the space for a washer and dryer. It also limits the laundry detergent contamination in the local water supply. The laundry has promised to only use allergen free, non-toxic, biodegradable soaps."

Brian walked over and looked in the window. The pristine laundry facility hadn't actually opened yet, but the equipment gleamed modern and new and could be operated with minimum staff. "You really want me to stay, don't you?"

"Yeah, but truthfully, the laundry's been part of the company plan from the beginning. It's a demonstration of our community core value. When you said you wanted to run an environmental cleanup company, I knew you belonged here. Eventually, we should be able to do pick up and drop off service." They passed several small, family owned shops. "That's the daycare. Employee costs are heavily subsidized. We can't outright pay it, because that would give unfair benefits to employees with children and I already expect some griping about family tuition being covered."

"How much money do you have?" Brian yelped.

"I'm going to invest so much money that it will drive the business community crazy." After a couple more steps, Alex said, "We're going to make back more and I'm going to sink it directly back into the company. I'm not in this venture to make money. I'm in it to make an ecosystem. I'm planning to change how humanity lives."

"You see? Everything sounds almost reasonable, viable, and then you say stuff like that."

"It scares me how badly I want you to join the company. I actually did a bunch more cost analysis charts to see if I could get you a higher salary. I can't and still make salaries equal for everyone. The funding line at the crossover to profit is just too close. Ah, here we are. This is the apartment building for company housing." The new, wide low-rise had replaced the most derelict apartment building in the area and the residents had been relocated to another nearby building, where rent had been reduced for everyone to minimize relocation pain.

The security guard at the reception desk glanced up from his video game and greeted them. "Hey, Alex, another resident finally?" His eyes snapped back to his computer screen.

"I hope. How's it going?" She stepped around his desk and peered at his screen.

"Not quite as good as yesterday, but I'll beat level 49 by the end of the week." The guard's rapid tapping of keystrokes didn't slow.

"Cool." Alex helped herself to several apartment keys from his drawer. They left him to his game.

Brian glanced back at the security guard playing video games with concern.

"Not much else to do right now." Alex shrugged. While she wished the guard were taking an online course or taking the opportunity to learn some useful skill, she wouldn't push the issue. People needed to find their own motivation. "These first two floors are common areas. We have the pool, gym, and library on this floor. Local residents can also use the facilities with a pass."

Alex and Brian peeked in at the pool which had a large size shallow end and a smaller deep end. The usual chlorine odor was vented outside and the fresh air from outside went through a temperature stabilizer, so the room was comfortably warm.

The library wasn't particularly big or impressive - computer terminals, printers, some empty tables with built-in power outlets, and a cabinet of relevant office and grade school supplies. A small shelf labelled "book swap" already contained an odd assortment of genres. The gym also wasn't much, with a weight-lifting home gym setup and a pair of ellipticals; employees and their families could use the much better gym over at the office building.

The door to the stairs was next to two elevators, one of which was over-sized so furniture could be brought in. Everything was clearly labelled; no subtle numbers in the door jams, thank you very much. Alex asked, "Are you ok with stairs or would you prefer to take the elevator?"

"Stairs are fine," Brian said, earning an approving smile from Alex. The stairwell's bright lighting and windows illuminated the wide, comfortable height stairs. Low pile carpet muted their steps and kept echoing down to a minimum.

Alex continued her tour on the next level. "This is the recreation hall." Inside, pool and ping pong tables dominated the left half of the room. The right half contained several large tables with a couple bookcases filled with both traditional and exotic new board games and puzzles. On the room's sides, there were a dozen glass-windowed, but soundproof rooms, including a couple with shiny black upright pianos. Several mini-theater areas were set up for group computer games. "For musical instrument practice and games where this room is just too noisy," Alex explained as she pointed to the security cameras.

The next room over had a children's playground that was divided into a miniature realm for age 3 and under and a beautiful climbing, slide, and swing fort for the older kids. The ground was safely squishy and strong lights brightened the already lively colors. Nearby benches and tables offered respite for parents. A large cabinet off to one side was clearly marked to contain first aid supplies with a nearby set of water fountains. Windows along one side looked out over the city street.

There were also two multi-stall restrooms, which were odd in that the walls between the restrooms and the play area were glass, allowing parents to see the hand washing area and stalls clearly. The stalls themselves had low, opaque doors where a child's shoes would be visible. Child-friendly cartoon people stenciled on the stall doors indicated whether the inside toilet was adult-sized or child-sized. Baby changing areas in both restrooms had raised privacy shields with adjacent sinks and trash bins .

"It's not as nice as being outside," Alex said at this luxury, "But this is a dense area of the city. Getting enough space just for this building, our company building, and a parking garage was challenging. Several of these lights are full-spectrum to help with the lack of sun."

Childless Brian nodded and probably didn't grasp exactly how much protection was built in for the children. Alex, however, sticking with her original company goal, would keep the children safe. This was only the start.

The last room on that floor had a computer lab. There were already several community-use computers, but most of the room was divided into varying size kiosks with tables and power outlets. Brian's eyes lit at the comfortable sofa-lounge area with its two large screens for group games.

"I feel like I'm back in my college dorm," Brian commented, amused. "I'm really beginning to worry about the size of the apartments." His voice held a hint of real concern.

Alex laughed. "As a proper real estate agent, I should describe them as cozy? Come on. Let me show you the one for a single person. It's small, but I think it's livable."

Alex took Brian up three floors by elevator this time. "This is one of the furnished ones. We have several floor plans, but they all have the same cubic footage."

The single-occupant apartment had a kitchen separated from the living room area by a counter with stools that would seat four, as would the sofa and chairs in the living room. Across from the low coffee table in front of the sofa, a fairly large wood entertainment center had space for a TV as well as a fold-out computer desk. The bedroom was large enough for a king-size bed, dresser, and had a small closet. The bathroom had both a rectangular jacuzzi tub and shower.

Brian peered around somewhat in dismay, perhaps wondering where he would put all his things.

"You can reclaim quite a bit of space just by ditching the jacuzzi tub and dropping to a queen size bed," Alex said. "The lights out in the living room are full-spectrum and the walls are soundproof. The air filtration system is state-of-the-art, so even if you were allergic to dogs, and the next person over had one, it wouldn't contaminate your air. All utilities are paid and each floor has its own dedicated wifi, as well as its own common room with TV."

Brian ran his fingers along the bed's comforter and then rubbed his chin. "What's your apartment look like?"

"You can come see it if you like," Alex said. "I won't come here except to sleep - going to be much too busy for the next ten years to spend much time here. I also own a house about a mile away, but I won't live there; I inherited it. I need to make sure this much space will actually work as a personal habitat. It's somewhat experimental to reduce humanity's footprint on the environment." And it was the only way to fit the number of employees she needed into the immediate area. She relocked that apartment and took Brian down the hall, where she opened another door. "Mine."

Inside, Alex's space reflected a tiny jungle, reduced to merely two rooms - a spacious main room and a bathroom. The unmade twin-sized adjustable bed disappeared into foliage. Large, beautiful ferns, orchids, and assorted houseplants grew under specialized lighting. Two magnificent Areca palms framed an empty computer desk with a lamp opposite the door. The desk shared an easily rotated chair with an art table. Nearby a shelf of painting supplies were ready for convenient use.

Alex nervously wondered if the room made her seem eccentric or just more insane. She adored the way the room smelled of earth and oxygen and made her feel like she was outside, but what would Brian think? "The bathroom has my closet with clothes. I don't need much."

"Um. Where's your kitchen?" Brian asked after a moment.

The room definitely made her seem more insane. Alex replied, "Don't need it. I'm going to be eating at the company cafeteria all the time. Food for employees is free there and someone else will make it and clean up the dishes. It's a time-thing. I might even hire someone to come and maintain these plants and take care of my laundry."

"Not going to adhere to the 40 hours per week maximum?" Brian said with an arched eyebrow.

"I have to maintain my cover and I have some family obligations in addition to acquiring money for the company. Also, I want to spend some time in the common areas socializing and getting to know everyone. If someone has a complaint, I want to hear about it so we can fix it. I need to cut away as many time sinks as I can."

"It sounds like you'll burn yourself out and this whole enterprise will collapse into a huge pile of bills." Brian reached out and touched one of the ferns.

As Alex routinely ran her fingers across the soft ferns herself, maybe he wasn't too appalled by her choice of decors. "Yeah, that's why I need you. You have to take care of everything I can't. Someone has to run the business infrastructure and delegate critical tasks." Her phone beeped and she glanced at it. "Milo says the building is clear. Shall I show you our facilities? Reception is done, as is my lab, security, and the manufacturing floor. The main offices should be complete today. I had them hold off on your floor in case you wanted to design it."

Brian's eyes went very wide.

"Did you bring the non-disclosure agreement?"

"It's signed and in my car."

"Great!" Alex beamed at him.

As they walked back, Brian asked, "So how much additional room does each family get per person? "

"It's equivalent to the bedroom in that first apartment I showed you. It's not much, but triple if the person is wheelchair bound. The system works on multiple levels. It reduces environmental impact and builds community - gets people out of their isolation to create strong friendships with their neighbors. If we care about each other, we'll help each other. I might say to my CEO, hey, help me cart out this trash today; there's a lot of it, and my CEO would help, rather than say, 'It's your job. You do it.' Even better, my CEO might see me struggling and just help without being asked. There are people who naturally do this, but most are too self-absorbed to even notice someone else struggling."

Brian snorted. "Sounds too idealistic to be actualized. Are you building a company or a cult?"

Alex chose her words carefully. "An ecosystem that will be funded by my product under the umbrella of a business."

"So, cult."

"Nah. A cult needs a crazy leader to worship. I decline that honor; it's got the wrong connotation. I expect the employees to grump about the strictly vegetarian cafeteria and hate the owner for it. This should unite everyone and give them something harmless to complain about. We can expand to allow eggs and fish eventually, and maybe meat one day, but not for a long time. We're aiming for environmentally sustainable." At Brian's unsettled look, Alex wondered if maybe she shouldn't be so candid about social dynamics. "People can still eat at the local restaurants and one of the local businesses is going to be an open 'cook-it-yourself' kitchen. We're not enforcing the lifestyle. Everything in our building will be organic, non-GMO, antibiotic free, and pesticide free. Easier as vegetarian."

They arrived back at the office building where Milo was waiting. Brian retrieved his non-disclosure form from his car and gave it to Alex who glanced at it and handed it off to Milo.

Milo filed the paper in his briefcase without reading it. "Do you need anything before I head home for the day, Alex?"

"Nope, I'm good. I'll need another set of mid-size packing boxes at the store tomorrow though."

Milo half-bowed and left in his car.

Alex turned to Brian and smiled. "Shall we?" She unlocked the door and let them in, locking it again behind them. She flipped on the lights. The reception area wasn't much - just an information counter near the entrance and a long counter off to the left in front of a huge open space. An archway behind it was clearly labelled "Shipping and Receiving". Alex pointed at the long counter. "Recycling drop-off. I have this absurd plan to ship off our product to customers wrapped in random sterilized, clean trash from employees and community families. It'll save us a fortune in shipping supplies and help sell our 'environmentally friendly and looney business'. Imagine paying gobs of money and receiving a cereal box with some newspaper stuffed inside, and our product. We save on the local landfill that way too."

Brian guffawed. "That would certainly stir up some publicity."

"I imagine a fan website with pictures of 'stuff that came with our purchase'. Mine came wrapped in this old t-shirt!" Alex grinned mischievously. "Would you like to start at the top and work down or in my lab and then go through the building?"

Brian shrugged.

"To the top then. I'll show you the beast you'll inherit before the product." They took the elevator to its top floor - the third floor, which was split between security and two massive locker rooms.

They passed through one of the locker rooms, and then through the security tunnel, and switched to a different elevator that actually went to the 20th floor. Alex pointed out the medical office as they passed it. "Most of the building is going to be storage while we build up inventory. We won't actually sell anything for... a while." The top floor was still completely unfinished, with construction debris everywhere. "Your penthouse," she announced with a flourish.

Brian peered in. "Why was the light on already?"

The more time she spent with him, the more Alex wanted Brian to take the job. That had been one astute observation. "The one light switch at the entrance turns on the whole building."

"That seems wasteful." Brian's tone indicated censure and Alex was glad he felt free to speak what he thought.

Alex contained her giggle, if just barely. As soon as construction was done and the building was entirely hers, she'd put her own power source in to cut their electric bill when they went operational. They'd still need some drain power for the electric company to bill for appearances, but the bulk of their use would be completely covered. "It does seem wasteful, but we'll fill the building and it'll be easier than going around and turning things on every day. Our electric bill will eventually balance out and tip in our favor."

Changing the subject, Alex said, "The next 12 floors all look just like this one. I'm going to use them for storage. We won't even bother finishing them. I'm just going to stack pallets in them."

The elevator took them down to level 7. The elevator opened to a short hallway with a door that would have been secure if there weren't a gaping hole where the door's keypad unit should be. "I'll put labels on all the elevator buttons. This is manufacturing. In order to get in, you have to have a badge that is encoded to let you in. Yours and mine will open anything, well, technically, yours will open anything but my lab, for safety reasons," she explained. She led him into the manufacturing area, which was split between a huge open space, and a glassed-off slightly smaller space. "This will be a hard-hat zone, and we'll mark off the floor for designated walk paths and store the hats here. That area behind the glass is for electronics and quality control. Everything feels so empty, but as soon as construction is done, I'll start bringing in equipment and furniture."

Floor 6 was parsed into multiple, differently sized soundproof meeting rooms. Alex pointed out the one room with a security-box door. "That's for spare parts and maintenance for manufacturing and electronics. We'll need a couple people who are really good at repairing equipment, because I don't want to bring in outsiders to do it."

They descended another level to a floor that was split into decently spacious offices. "For human resources and legal, with a few extra spare offices."

"Legal?" Brian choked.

"Yeah, for employees who need wills, tax help, or whatever. If we can find a lawyer who will come work for us for 30k and live in a closet. I'm going to handle the business' legal for a while with Milo's help. Believe me, we will be entirely legal. I can't risk our future on stupidity."

Brian relaxed again. "Glad to hear it. I don't want to end up in jail."

"Yeah, so if you see anything that seems out of place, bring it to my attention immediately so we can get it fixed. None of that bank manager nonsense." Alex was fully apprised on that bank's issues from Milo's report. Mario had already shifted the family money. "Floor 4 looks just like this one, mostly. It's for information technology and production. We're going to produce a lot of labels to stick on that recycled trash." She winked. "Next, my lab. Note, this elevator doesn't go below third floor. Push 7, 8, and 10 at the same time. That'll take us to the basement which is research and development."

Brian's eyebrows scrunched together. "Doesn't the construction crew know about this?"

Alex shook her head. "I cut the opening in the basement and reprogrammed the elevator myself." With the help of several discreet, strong Marino men, she thought ruefully. "The lab is on the opposite side of shipping and receiving's storage area. I'll put in a one-way emergency exit into the storage area once the construction crew is done and on their way."

The elevator opened to another short, if pallet-wide security tunnel. This time, the door's control pad was in place and lit. Alex took a card out of her pocket and ran the card over the panel. Her picobots silently verified her DNA against the badge and triggered the open-code.

Alex was incredibly pleased with how well her picobots were working out. They operated even better than expected. The almost impossibly small robots operated in mini-hives of neural networks with each hive performing a unique function and able to dynamically pull from or add to neighboring hives for different task requirements. They could even pass along information in a binary matrix.

Alex could leave the picobots in place or send them off on specialized tasks. Alex even had many layers of them around herself working as a bioshield and able to stop and track bullets, knives, and pathogens. The picobots in front of the door's security panel hovered, identified a security card, then the DNA of the person holding the card. If both didn't match, they wouldn't let the security panel shift to allow entrance.

Alex had left the original equipment that created the first molecule over in Sal's vault, but she'd relocated the glass container and the gear necessary to extract more power cells. The floor had some yellow taped walk-paths, but nothing was in the empty places. Eventually, wheeled pallets of batteries would be built and she could take the batteries upstairs for storage. There was a cot with a pillow and a thin, crumpled blanket in the corner.

Alex went over to the wooden lab-desk where the seemingly empty glass container with two electrical leads and small sliding tray was pushed off to the side, and her laptop was taking the space of importance. The laptop was open, turned on, and obviously running some data calculations. She picked up the laptop battery she'd saved just for Brian and turned to give it to him. "This is our first product."

"What is it?" Brian turned the flat metal box in his hand.

"Laptop battery," Alex announced proudly.

"A LAPTOP battery!!!" Brian said incredulously. "You're cracked. You can't do all this for something already stable through the market. Why did you even bother?"

Alex shrugged, practically bouncing on her toes. "See my laptop over there?"

"Yeah? It's a laptop." He sounded disgusted.

Alex grinned mischievously. "See any power cords? Any power outlets in this room anywhere?"

Brian looked around, pausing in his anger.

She gestured for him to come over to her laptop. "This has been running calculations for about a month now, but it's definitely been on through our entire tour. See the battery level in the taskbar?" Alex pointed. It still read 100%. She minimized the app, and brought up a few other things and closed them again, to show it wasn't a screen saver. "This, my new CEO, is a power source created using new physics, that will not need recharging or any kind of maintenance for the next thousand years. It will outlive you and me and our children and our children's children. It can be scaled up to run small appliances, cars, boats, airplanes, and then houses, buildings, factories, and cities. It safely and cleanly replaces all power sources on the planet."

"Impossible," Brian said scornfully.

Alex remained calm, absolutely sure of herself. "It never needs a power outlet. It never fails. "

Brian thought a moment, teeth grinding. "Even if what you say is true, the second you get the patent, another group will pick it up and make clones."

Alex nodded agreement. "That's why I'm not going to get it patented and our security has to be so obnoxious."

"But someone will crack it open and figure it out."

Alex rubbed her hands together gleefully. "It's self-terminating. If they open it, there will be nothing for them to study," she boasted.

Brian stared at the ugly plain rectangle in his hand. "The oil companies will never let you succeed."

"And that's why the owner is a crazy loon," Alex whispered, imitating a madwoman. "We're going to self-destruct without requiring any effort on their part whatsoever. They only need to sit back and laugh and watch us implode in a mountain of bills."

In a normal voice, Alex continued, "They can crunch numbers just as easily as we can. At least that's what I'm going to let them believe. I have some financial resources they don't know about. But they'll be waiting for us to sink to a point where they simply buy us out to save us from financial ruin. Except one day, we're going to flip a switch and go from barely making a profit to being unstoppable. The world isn't going to know what hit it."

Brian's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "What about the lawsuits and the government requesting full technical specifications, in the interest of safety?"

"We'll have a large number of independent safety checks by then. I'm the only one who knows what's inside and I'm not going to tell anyone. They might throw me in jail for a bit, but I have lawyers who will get me out again. We aren't breaking any laws. I'm prepared for this." She smiled manically, "You said you want to clean up the environment? How does getting rid of oil drilling, coal plants, fracking, nuclear power plants, and fuel exhaust sound as a cleanup exercise?"

He turned the battery over in his hand.

"Tell you what, you brought your laptop with you, didn't you?" At Brian's nod, Alex continued, "Let's install that and you can try it out over the next day or two and see that I'm not lying to you, and when you decide to be my CEO, and we have all the legalities in place, I'll show you my long term projections and give you hard data on finances and strategy. It's going to work, but it's going to be an incredible and not always pleasant journey."

Two days later, Brian became Green World's second full-time employee. Alex turned over the company projection data for the next ten years and they worked out the initial hiring plan. Brian pointed out their need for an extensive IT department as well as detailed patent documentation for the laptop battery adapters.

Green World grew chaotically, wildly unpredictable, without any apparent plan. Brian got a secretary with the simple expediency of calling one of his old college friends. They got an IT department by hiring one of the Marino boys who was still in high school. After a brief delay while the Marino boy built their website to basically be a job application page with current postings, they collected random employees. No senior positions filled because the pay was too low, but the support positions filled in. A vegan husband and wife couple were hired to run the cafeteria. The stereotypic multicolor dreadlocks and piercings in no way impaired their ability to produce excellent food. Alex made sure they had any equipment they wanted.

It was an odd time in the company. If someone needed something done and the position hadn't been filled yet, they did it themselves or found someone to help, and fired off another point toward "we need this position filled". When enough points were acquired, the position got upgraded on the website as "hiring with priority; signing bonus". Within the company, every four months, if someone wanted to change positions to something open and they were qualified, they could, without any negative impact on their reputation. Tired of doing computer support? Take a break and wash dishes for four months. The paycheck and benefits remained the same.

The recycling team was actually the first one to be complete. Employees were finding the apartments much too small for their furniture and randomly acquired items. Some things employees sold directly, but much of it was dropped off at the company for recycling. These were sorted into piles - distribute, refurbish, reclaimable trash, or trash. The last category was by far the smallest. If employees wanted something that had been turned in, they could just take it. If multiple people wanted the same thing, they simply rolled dice to see who would get it. Non-employees paid a minimal processing fee for things and a number of thrift shops around Atlanta sent employees on "raids" to fill in their own stock. Alex was glad to see the excess go.

Alex herself took away the trash to molecularly rearrange into batteries, and started on producing pallets of batteries which she then stored on the upper floors that no one had access to. Some of her time was spent zipping around the building making sure things stayed moderately clean while talking with and listening to employees. Because everyone changed into khaki jumpsuits to go anywhere past the 3rd floor security, and they were not allowed to bring anything in with them, the upper floors remained mostly clean.

Alex cheated a bit on the bathrooms, letting her picobots clean and sanitize the facilities, and thus stealing herself a chunk of time to work on batteries, novels, and antiques trading. She really liked having her picobots, but recognized that the technology was really much too powerful and could be easily abused if anyone ever found out about them.

Most of Green World's hires came as friends and family of employees. The people who began work for her company suddenly discovered an oasis in the desert. Instead of being treated like cogs in a machine and being driven by unreasonable demands and deadlines, they were allowed to excel, solve problems that needed to be solved, able to pursue any educational dream they had, whether or not it was job related. Their concern over monthly bills lessened, and they found time for family and community activities. The exercise and health food began having its anticipated effect on people's mood and energy levels.

Green World finally got a manufacturing floor manager because of the tuition benefits. She was a widow with three kids just starting college and her old job just wasn't covering bills. As soon as manufacturing was functioning, Brian sent down specifications for things for them to build. Alex checked products in the evening and sent back anything that failed inspection with a simple "out of spec" sticker and added another point to the job announcement for "manufacturing quality control personnel". There was never any demoralizing lecture or embarrassing blame. The manufacturing team was doing their best; a fact which Alex knew because she'd go through cleaning and talking with people. It was just taking time to get the machines calibrated and personnel trained. Safety was the priority, then quality. Eventually, she knew they'd be a fine manufacturing team.

There was some speculation and concern that the company wasn't actually producing a product or selling anything for a profit yet, but Brian assured everyone that they were on schedule according to the company owner's directives. Alex, meanwhile, chose one of the annual largest technical conventions out of Las Vegas as their deployment location and began planning.

Manufacturing, under a dictate of absolute secrecy, finally started producing laptop battery adapters and storing those on the other empty building floors. They'd still need a full year's inventory in order to keep up with sales when the full impact of her battery became apparent. As far as the employees in manufacturing knew, they were going to be selling laptop battery adapter cases with some odd interior specifications. Some of the cases were designed to replace laptop batteries while others were external to be used as chargers for laptops whose batteries could not be replaced.

Alex happily found Brian at his desk when she rolled her cleaning cart into his office and pushed it against the wall. She threw herself into one of his leather chairs and leaned back, kicking her feet out. She waited for him to look up from his computer monitor and then said, "I want to hire some mediators."

"Oh?" he pushed his computer keyboard off to the side.

Alex explained, "We had one of the developers yelling at an order clerk for accidentally purchasing the wrong hardware. Typo'd model number. It sets him back and he'll miss his deadline, and he has to come explain that to you. But honestly, it wasn't at all about the hardware. His girlfriend broke up with him yesterday. He's in a viciously foul mood. The clerk was nearly in tears."

Brian hmm'd.

"I had a talk with both of them individually and it'll be ok. Our dev is totally embarrassed at having lost his temper now and is going to apologize." Alex rubbed her kneecap and then said, "But we're going to have to mitigate this sort of thing if we're going to build a cohesive team. The person in the wrong is embarrassed and upset about having made a mistake, and generally wishes they hadn't done it. The person who has been wronged, disappointed, or hurt, can have overwhelming anger and frustration." Alex concluded, "We need counselors, people with both psychiatric and medical training."

Brian cleared his throat. "Normal companies hold training and the company president and management give motivational speeches."

"Good point. Do that, too." Alex stretched tiredly. "I still want to hire some mediators and a behavioral biologist. I want people who can step between the ones who are upset and help them master forgiveness and understanding and learn to care about each other. People make mistakes out of ignorance or distraction or physical or mental challenges. But we need them to stop screaming at each other and being upset."

Brian squinted at her skeptically. "Many religions have been trying to teach this since the beginning of time. Are you going to solve it overnight?" Alex merely smiled at him and he sighed, reminding her of Milo when she asked for something particularly challenging. Brian conceded, "Ok, then. We also need an employee handbook and signed company policy statements, in case we have to fire anyone. Legal protection."

It was Alex's turn to sigh. She lamented, "I don't want a legal system. That whole litigation, compensation, justification, and validation system is abused and pointless. Our security can view the video feeds of any incident, and we can determine if a crime has been committed. If a crime, the person can be fired. Otherwise, it needs to be a matter of 'it happened; get over it; do what needs to be done now that it's happened'."

"Yeah, but we still need the paperwork trail."

Alex sighed. "You're in charge. If we need it, we need it." After a moment, she added, "The mediators can hang out in the cafeteria, gym, and rec hall and talk with people. Don't give them offices."

Brian shook his head slightly. "This is a strange company."

Alex straightened and stood up. "You're doing a great job with it, too. I trust you. I want the best company environment my mountain of money can buy."

Six months later, Alex, Brian, and a small crew of Green World employees stood in front of their company's booth at the Las Vegas technical conference. The company wouldn't sell any batteries until the next year, but the booth's purpose was to announce their presence and set the idea that their company owner was crazy.

Alex studied her company's setup. Muted soft, light brown carpet was gentle on the feet with special anti-fatigue padding underneath. Three lighter-toned walls and a temporary ceiling with high-tech noise dampeners built in lined the back sides and overhead to reduce the vendor hall noise level. Alex's picobots would provide complete noise-cancelling when told to do so, but not many were likely to actually step into their space and notice it. Their booth had the feel of a spacious, deluxe lean-to.

Gentle, warm-toned lights reflected off the booth ceiling from hidden light fixtures along the ceiling edge, replacing the harsh lights of the conference hall with a natural color, but still bright enough to comfortably see. Their company logo hung in the upper left back corner of the enclosure, large enough to read clearly at seven meters, but not garishly prominent in any way. The only item in the space was a one meter square glass display case on top of an even lighter tan-toned box pedestal in the center of the carpet. It only came up to about mid-chest height and wasn't very impressive to look at. Inside was a slightly brighter spotlighted folded tent-card with the following year printed on it. There were no pamphlets, no tables, no chairs, no company spiffs, and this year only, no booth attendants. It was exactly what she'd imagined. Everything was powered by a completely hidden battery in the back wall.

Alex made a show of checking her clipboard and said to Brian, "I think that's it, Sir." The other six employees agreed. All eight of them were wearing the owner-specified company convention "uniform" - an extremely comfortably muted earth-tone green one piece jumpsuit that could have additional layers added underneath for warmth. These had two large zippered thigh-pockets for phones, money, and such. Their first names and the company logo were stitched on at the left shoulder. Even their comfortable walking shoes matched in a slightly darker green.

Brian announced, "I think so too. We've done exactly as the owner specified. Anyone want lunch?" His jumpsuit also had CEO stitched on underneath the company logo.

Around them, other companies were setting up their own booths with brightly flashing, somewhat garish signs and videos, some with music and sound effects, and cloth-draped tables with cases of additional handouts hidden underneath. The bigger, more affluent companies had additional temporary walls, while most companies just had high back-signs. The noise level outside their booth was echoing and loud and the conference attendees hadn't even filled the space yet.

Other vendors who happened to look up from their rushed setup tasks stared at them curiously but dove back into their own preparations. The eight matching outfits were impressive as a unit but wouldn't be that remarkable once everyone had split up. Alex definitely wanted functional comfort as the primary feature for everything.

Brian treated everyone (with the company's credit card) to a fantastic lunch at a local Japanese steak house. They laughed and joked, discussing the bus ride out with its mini-vacation stops, and peered through their conference attendee bags, talked about things they wanted to see at the convention. Alex was incredibly pleased with the casual family feeling of the group. No one treated Brian any differently by this point and he seemed less stressed.

The entire company, except for these eight people, were on paid holiday for two weeks. Their office building was secured, outside security consultants (Marino family bodyguards) had been hired to guard their building, and everything was on hold. These employees had volunteered to give up their vacation and "work" the convention in exchange for the rented luxury bus trip out and back, where they'd stop at several tourist attractions, and be able to attend the huge annual technical convention. Expenses were being covered by the company in exchange for their loss of "vacation".

This first year was going to be the easiest: each employee had to work four hours per day of the convention - sit somewhere in plain view, playing on a laptop that was not plugged in. They were told to charge any devices in their hotel rooms and to never be seen with a power adapter. That was it - a simple, subtle advertisement. Most of the employees themselves didn't know what the product was yet. The manufacturing team knew they were making laptop battery adapters, but they were still sworn to secrecy.

The employees split up after lunch to go to their hotel rooms and get settled. They were all free to be on their own schedule until it was time to pack up the booth.

Alex threw her duffle bag on the bed and looked around her hotel room. By hotel standards, the room was simple, if tastefully decorated, with two queen-size beds, an entertainment center, dresser, and balcony. Compared to her bed and bathroom apartment, this looked quite grand. She wondered if she should spend a little more time at Sal's beautiful house for equilibrium because even the generic, reproduction artwork in the hotel room looked nice.

Brian came by Alex's hotel room late Friday night after the convention activities had closed down for the evening. She was busy typing in another novel to publish. "What's up?" she asked, opening the door, and standing aside so he could come in.

When the door closed again, Brian strode farther into the room and kicked one of the still-made beds before throwing himself on it. His voice was laced with acid when he said, "The senior chairman of the convention would like the owner to call him at the owner's earliest convenience tomorrow morning. Our vendor display is unacceptable and they would like it removed. Additionally, even though I'm a CEO, my clothing is inappropriate for the executive lounge and my company, lacking any actual product, is not enough of a company to allow my inclusion in the any of the executive activities. I've been specifically uninvited."

"Ah. Want a drink?" Alex said softly. "There's some appallingly awful overpriced liquor stocked in the cabinet here."

Brian shook his head. "Aren't you listening? How are we supposed to launch our product here next year if they're going to kick us out?"

"It'll be fine." Alex moved her open laptop and sat on the opposite bed.

"It's not going to be fine! They want our display removed and they aren't going to let us have the booth again next year."

Alex spoke calmly, "In the morning, I'll completely activate the soundproofing on our display walls. At 10 a.m., I'll go inform the chairman that our owner is currently visiting Russia and is in business meetings. With the time zone differences, a phone call is impossible, but you would personally like to speak with him at our booth in the vendor hall. By then, the Saturday crowd will be swarming the hall and the ambient sound will be deafening."

Alex pushed her laptop lid closed. Alex briefly wished Milo were there; Milo would have stomped this nonsense before it could manifest. Brian, however, was not Milo, and needed some reassurance and direction. "When you see the chairman, invite him into our space to stand on the carpet. If the sudden noise difference doesn't impress him technically enough, remind him that we signed a five-year contract for our space in the vendor room that is binding for both him and us, and we would still like to launch our product here next year."

Alex searched her memory and found a useful note about the chairman in the conference's event booklet - they were having a small fundraiser mid-afternoon. "If that doesn't persuade him, tell him that the owner has agreed to privately donate $500,000 to St. Jude Children's Research Hospital in his sister's name if he would be so kind as to honor our contract. If he would still like our booth removed, tell him it will take some time to track down your employees to arrange for it, and then come find me."

"Good grief. How much money do you have?" Brian stood then and went over to the cabinet with the hotel liquors, chose a double-serving bottle of bourbon, removed the cost-will-be-added-to-your-bill paper and opened it. He drank it all in one motion.

"Enough. Don't panic. I think the sudden quiet will be enough for him to let us keep our display. We're going to be fine." Alex would keep any fears and doubts to herself and maybe Milo.

Brian returned to his seat on the bed, shoulders slumped forward. "I really wanted to attend the executive seminars."

"I'm sorry." Down the hall, an ice maker filled someone's bucket. It was barely audible.

"I've been too busy to take time to go to any classes and I feel like I'm drowning most days." Brian rubbed at his neck. "They laughed when I said our HR department was completely handling our recruitment. I looked that up today. It's in the top mistakes executives make. They laughed harder when someone pointed out we're all on the same salary scale." He bent forward and crossed his arms across his chest. "At least when I was a dinosaur performer, they were supposed to laugh and it wasn't mean laughter."

Alex rubbed her thigh, trying to think of something to say to console him. Words weren't enough. She went over and put her hand on his shoulder. "Brian, it's my fault. That laughter is vital to our company success."

"I know. I feel like giving up sometimes. I'm not the person you need here. You needed someone with experience. I never know what to do. I'm guessing 90% of the time. The company is getting too big, too fast. I can't keep up."

"Brian, you're doing an excellent job." Alex sat next to him, keeping her hand on his shoulder. "You chose Mark for HR and he's doing just fine at recruitment. I'm paying attention to all the departments. We have no major problems."

"These people are counting on me for their jobs. They're worried about the company folding. Now this conference is going to throw us out."

"Nah. Just the conference chairman. I have a contingency plan if he refuses to let us continue." Alex held onto her visible confidence. A different product rollout venue wouldn't be nearly as effective.

"How can you be so calm?" Brian pulled away from her hand, stood and went back to the bar, but instead of more alcohol, he took one of the equally overpriced waters and opened that. He leaned against the hotel dresser, crossing his arms and staring at her.

"Because we're going to succeed." Alex leaned back against the hotel bed's wooden headboard that was glued to the wall. The top edge stuck out and poked into her back and she pulled one of the pillows out and put it behind her. What idiot designed a bed headboard that couldn't comfortably support a person's back? Particularly in a hotel where sitting on the bed was an expected activity. "Look, when we get back, I'll come by your office and see what I can do to help out."

"You don't have time. I see you working. You never stop. Not even this late at night on a vacation trip."

True enough, Alex thought ruefully. "I have time."

"The head of manufacturing came to me before we left and wanted to know how the hell we're going to keep the company afloat selling laptop battery adapters," Brian said.

"It's a fair question." Alex knew from talking with employees that they were worried.

"I know! I couldn't answer her, Alex. I just sat there stuttering like an idiot. She stormed out. "

"Practice saying, 'We are doing what the owner directs. I'll pass along your concerns,'" she advised.

"They aren't satisfied by that, Alex. They're worried about their livelihoods, their families. They've finally had a chance to work for a company that puts them first. They know what a good thing they've got. They're scared of losing it."

"Ok." Alex ran her fingers through her hair. "I'll write a forum post for you along the lines of 'having a firm belief that the owner is prepared for the long-term continuation of the company and that you have discussed this at length with the owner'. It won't solve the problem, but will let everyone know that you are aware of the precarious nature of our enterprise. I'll see if I can't redirect everyone's energy toward our vegetarian menu. Maybe we can distract them for a year with that?"

Brian groaned, rubbed at his neck again, standing upright.

Alex stood to walk with him to the door and offered, "When we get back, I'll come by and we'll see what I can do to lighten your workload. I need you. I'm not going to let you fail. We'll work it out."

Brian nodded once, sharply, and left.

After Alex closed the hotel room door and locked it, she stood there a moment thinking and then went back to her computer and fired off a message to HR from Brian to add a chiropractor and massage therapist to the job announcements and another message to maintenance to prepare rooms for them. She then sent Brian a note telling him that when they got hired, he ought to visit them until his neck pain went away.

Brian replied almost immediately that his pain wasn't going to go away until he retired and didn't have to deal with this company anymore. Alex chuckled at that and fired back a note that he should get off his computer and get sleep. He sent back a message that he'd sleep when she did. Alex didn't reply to that one, but went back to punching in the next novel. She might need another $500,000 in the morning. She finally crawled into bed at 4 a.m. for a couple hours of much needed sleep.

Alex got good news from Milo when her alarm went off at 7 a.m. Being in an earlier time zone, he'd been awake for a few hours already and had closed a movie deal with a major studio for one of her novels, and voila, there was the $500,000 she didn't have and she didn't have to spend the day trying to figure out where she was going to get it. She was still in a chipper mood when she got over to the convention center a couple hours later, and her step was light, practically skipping.

On her way to the vendor room to adjust the sound acoustics of their booth, she saw Ethan Jaxon who was surrounded by a group of older business men. All were in fancy suits. Alex recognized two as CEOs for direct competitors. Her product was going to put them out of business unless they adapted and did something else. She didn't alter her walking trajectory and passed close enough to them to politely nod to Ethan.

Ethan nodded back and asked with the tiniest hint of derision in his voice, "Alex, how's your startup going?"

"You were right. It was a bad risk. I'm working with Karen now," Alex answered pleasantly.

Ethan did not bother to introduce her to the men he was standing with. No doubt he'd tell them later about how he went to school with her until she dropped out to start a company. She smiled politely and said, "Enjoy the convention, gentlemen," and continued past them.

As Alex approached their booth, she noticed that it did look absurdly out of place in the middle of the amazingly chaotic market. A pair of attendees were looking at her booth when she walked up.

"Who pays this much money to show off a card with a year in it?" the one asked.

"There's not even any spiffs," the other answered somewhat grouchily. They moved off.

Alex went into the enclosure and the noise level from the room dropped considerably, but was still loud. She went to a discreet panel in the back left corner and pushed it open. She entered the combination to the small security box there, and turned a small dial inside all the way to maximum. The small temporary three-walled room went completely silent. She closed and relocked the security box and pushed the panel closed. If you didn't know the panel was there, you wouldn't see it. The dial itself hadn't actually done anything at all; her picobots were filtering out incoming sound waves entirely. Anyone dissecting the walls and carpet weren't going to find anything.

"Well, that's better," Alex said to the empty space. Her voice absorbed into the fabric on the walls and did not bounce back. It sounded like a high-end recording studio.

When Alex stepped back out into the noisy aisle, she saw a young man watching her. He was maybe a year older than her. "So what did you just do?" he asked curiously.

"Not much. Adjusted the sound a little," Alex replied, aiming for as bored as possible.

"I'm Noah." He held out his hand.

"Alex." She took his hand and shook firmly.

"So what's the deal?" Noah indicated the booth with an incline of his head.

"We're launching our product next year. This is the press release."

Noah's eyebrows pulled together and the one lifted slightly. "What's the product? "

"Still a secret, apparently." Alex winked. "We've been directed not to discuss it."

Noah reached in his pocket and handed her a business card. "I do a tech vlog. When you decide to go public, message me, eh?"

"We'll be here next year. Come by and I'll show it to you," Alex said.

Noah grinned and moved off.

Alex was really glad he hadn't stepped into their booth. She went in search of the convention's chairperson.

Some time late Saturday evening, their booth's odd acoustics became public and they had a steady stream of people going through to hear the silence for themselves. Alex did not need the additional $500,000 to keep their booth for the next year.

Several months later, Brian was still keeping everyone's fears tolerably well controlled. Alex didn't need to direct the employees' attention to their vegetarian cafeteria because one of the outspoken high protein diet people decided to organize a rally to demand meat be served in the kitchen, even if employees had to pay for it. Alex joined the employees in the street outside their company building. It was warm for a midwinter day, but most people still wore light jackets or sweaters.

"Isn't it rather wrong for you to be out here with us protesting?" Karen Marino asked Alex, walking up. Karen knew who owned the company.

Alex shrugged. "I want an omnivorous diet just like everyone else. I just also happen to know that it's not sustainable and can't be done."

Karen shook her head in wry amusement. "But it's a protest to get the owner's attention!"

"Well, the owner is certainly noticing," Alex grinned, proudly holding up her sign on which was painted with large, friendly letters: "We Want Meat!"

"They might lynch you when they find out." Karen waved her own sign which read, "Employees Vote Meat!"

They moved into the crowd. People milled around, blocking the street, and commenting to each other that the owner would definitely have to pay attention to this. After an hour, Alex texted Brian that it was time to deliver her message. He arrived 10 minutes later.

"Excuse me, could I have everyone's attention, please?" Brian shouted.

People settled down to listen. They really were good people.

"I've consulted with the owner about both this protest and the possibility of changing the vegetarian menu," Brian announced.

There were cheers. Alex tried not to wince.

"The owner recognizes that the majority of employees would like to have meat selections added to the company cafeteria. The owner is impressed that you have joined together as a community to make your wishes known, even those of you who really don't care either way are supporting each other, and the owner says that's awesome and deserves a reward."

More cheers. "Everyone will be given the day off with full pay and there will be no penalties incurred for the protest. All production schedules will be adjusted accordingly so there will be no rush to 'make up' work." An odd silence fell over the group as they anticipated the next sentence. "The owner says that unfortunately, adding meat selections to the company cafeteria is not environmentally sustainable and cannot be done at this time." There were shouts of "No!" and "That's not fair!" before Brian continued, "Everyone is free to stand out here and continue the protest or head home, at your choice. Work resumes tomorrow. I'm sorry, everyone. Truly, I tried."

Alex was one of the last people to leave. She set her sign aside and moved among the people, quietly offering anger-diffusing comments, consolations, and generally listening to complaints.

Alex was in her lab working on another program for her picobots when her phone buzzed, startling her. She reached over and picked up her phone, noting with annoyance that she needed to take the next pallet of batteries up to storage so the next set could be built. In her concentration, she'd apparently missed the quiet beep indicating it was done.

She saw Milo's identifier and answered, "Hey, Milo, what's up?"

"Mario would like to meet with you," Milo's voice said without emotion.

"Ok," Alex closed her eyes and studied her schedule. "Tomorrow at 4 p.m.?"

"Right now."

Alex rolled her head, stretching her neck. "I'm in the middle of a dozen things that all need to be done right now. Can it wait?"

"I'm on my way in the car to take you directly to his house," Milo's voice informed her blandly.

Alex rubbed at the bridge of her nose. She could feel a headache starting. "Is everything ok?"

"As far as I know. He did not tell me what he wants."

Right. "I guess I'll meet you out front then." Alex disconnected. She stood and stretched fully, frustrated. She hated stopping in the middle of a block of code. It was always so tedious to recapture her pace. At least she'd be able to finally give Sal's brother his bioshield ring; she hadn't had time to drop it off yet.

Alex took the pallet to storage before exiting the building. Getting enough of those batteries ready was near the top of her priority list, almost overtaking "do whatever the acting head of an Italian Mafia family requests" .

Outside, she walked the two blocks to the antiques store where the limousine was waiting. As a general rule, she didn't want to be seen getting in or out of a limousine in front of Green World. That would defeat the whole "custodian" cover she had going.

She climbed into the limousine, letting the driver close the door for her. Milo was immaculately dressed. Considering that it was after his normal work hours and he usually liked to relax in comfortable clothes and read a book in the evening, he'd obviously deliberately changed for this duty.

"Am I in trouble, Milo?" At least Alex didn't have that overwhelming fear that used to accompany a meeting with Mario. Her picobot bioshield would protect her and she was confident she'd be able to handle any repercussions from that. Milo was wearing his ring, as directed, even though he didn't know what it was for. He presumed it was a tracking device of some sort. She'd simply told him to wear it at all times as part of his job.

The limousine began moving and Milo shrugged. "He sounded annoyed."

Alex yawned exhaustedly. "At least we'll be in the same mood."

Milo cringed.

The car arrived at Sal's brother's house soon thereafter and both of them went to the front door, under the watchful eyes of the outer perimeter of bodyguards. The door opened as if by magic and the inside bodyguards stepped aside to let them pass. "In the study, Miss Smith," one of them said. "Mr. Marino is expecting you," he added unnecessarily.

Milo led the way through several hallways as Alex had never been inside Mario's house before. The house was big, but not a mansion like Sal's. His walls were covered with pictures of family members, not expensive original oil paintings. These included pictures of his current wife as well as his deceased ones. Milo opened a door and gestured for Alex to enter before him.

The first thing Alex saw when she entered was her painting hanging on his wall - the one she'd done for Sal that had the secret formula to her battery embedded in its design. Mario was standing across the room, looking at it, with his arms crossed and a frown on his face.

"I requested that be destroyed," Alex said after a heartbeat.

"I. Don't. Understand. This. Painting." Mario growled with sharp, punctuated emphasis.

"Do you normally understand art?" she countered.

"You," and Mario emphasized the word, "Said it wasn't art."

"Well, it isn't. It was a private message from me to Sal. There better not be any photographs of it anywhere," Alex added ominously.

Mario paced. "He comes into the restaurant after his birthday party with that painting and sets it up in my office and says, 'I'm naming her my heir. She needs our family and she'll be good for us." He went over to his desk. "Good for us!" he shouted, taking a stack of papers from his desk and throwing them at her .

Alex caught one of the pages out of the air and glanced at it, as the rest drifted into chaos around her feet. The real family financial ledgers; the ones the F.B.I. would have loved to get copies of. The balance on the page she'd seen showed their wealth going steadily down. She expected the rest of the pages floating to the floor did the same. She walked over to his desk, careful not to step on any of the pages, and set the paper in her hand on the desk and took the ring from her pocket and set it on top of the page.

Sal's brother peered at the ring, frowned and glared at her, shaking his head disapprovingly.

Alex turned to Milo who was trying very hard to be invisible. "Do you have your gun, Milo?"

Milo glanced at the door before nodding trepidatiously. Bravely, he whispered, "I'm not giving it to you."

Alex grinned psychotically. "I want you to shoot me. Head or chest. It doesn't matter."

"No," Milo replied firmly, although quietly. His foot turned suspiciously toward the exit.

"Just make sure it's a kill shot." Alex moved to stand in front of her painting. "I want you to splatter my blood across this reminder that my best friend is gone. And when I'm dead, sell off the business, everything I own, and give all the money back to the family."

Mario took a gun from his desk and fired it at her.

Alex frowned, staring down at the bullet hovering next to her arm. Plucking it out of the invisible picobot net, she walked over to Sal's brother and handed it back to him so it could be recycled. "That wasn't a kill shot." She pointed at the ring on the page. "That ring is for you. It's a bioshield. As long as you are wearing it, no bullet or knife will ever reach you. You can die comfortably of old age." As Mario was still staring at her in disbelief, she added teasingly, "I can't believe you shot me. What were you thinking?"

"Cathartic release," Mario said without shame, blinking, and reaching for the ring. "I wanted you to feel as angry as me."

Alex snorted. "Put that on and don't ever take it off. These things are nearly impossible to make," Alex lied. "Just me, you, and Milo have them. Don't abuse it, though. We need to keep what it does a family secret. Do I need to say why?"

Sal's brother shook his head and put the ring on his finger. It fit him perfectly. Milo glanced at his own ring with wide eyes.

"I have other tech coming." Alex bent to pick up ledger pages, taking the opportunity to glance at each one under the guise of putting them back in order. "This money will be restored and increased within three years. You don't need to worry, Mario. I'll take care of this."

Mario was still staring at the ring now on his finger. "When is your birthday? "

The topic shift was so sudden, it took Alex a moment to grasp the question. "It doesn't matter." She wasn't going to give any information that might tie her back to who she used to be.

"Rico asked me the other day when it was." Sal's brother took the ledger pages and put them in his desk. He'd return them to their hidden location later. "The family has an obligation to throw you a party."

"I don't need a party," Alex informed him.

Milo spoke up, "It's for the family, Alex. It's how we redistribute certain items of value to specific people without causing undue F.B.I. interest."

"Oh." Enlightened, Alex answered, "Then give me Sal's birthday. I'll adopt his." That's how Alex acquired March 12th as her birthday.

Back in the limousine, Alex said to Milo, "I need another source of money. The family can't afford to give me any more." She thought for a long while and then whispered, "I'll sell some of Sal's art. I'll just have to buy it back if I can."

Milo shrugged. "Go talk with your CEO. I know appearing crazy is part of your strategy, but you've got an in-house expert. Use him."

Once again at the technical conference in Las Vegas, Alex studied her clipboard with their vendor booth specifications. It looked almost exactly like it had the previous year, with a few additions. The muted soft, light brown carpet still had anti-fatigue padding underneath, and the walls were still bare except for the company's logo. The centered glass display case now had a small square in it just about the size of a compact flash card. It's folded tent card said, "Long life laptop battery or charger. $1200."

There was a matching display case off to the left with another folded tent card in it with a date three years out. The right front and left front now had pretty green counters just wide enough for a pair of laptops with padded stools behind them, but someone would have to approach the counters to talk to whoever sat there. The noise reduction acoustics were already maximized.

"I think that's it," Alex said to Brian, handing him the clipboard.

"Nice job setting everything up, everyone," Brian said to the crew. Again, they'd brought 6 other people. Everyone would get two hours in the booth, and two hours "being seen using a laptop that wasn't plugged in". They'd all been trained in battery installation and sales processing, although Alex didn't expect them to need it for a while. The group went to lunch, with one lonely soul left guarding the battery display case (and the inventory underneath the counters).

Alex took the first shift when the vendor room opened, along with one of the more nerdy employees whose nickname was Tank for the type of video games he liked to play, one of which he sat at his counter playing. Alex set her laptop to play some quiet ambient forest sounds and worked on yet another novel. Their booth sounded odd with ambient birdsong accompanied by gunfire and explosions.

Alex saw Ethan come by, but he merely looked at the sign next to the battery, rolled his eyes, and walked on, without approaching. This seemed to be the same thing everyone did. Their booth just didn't have enough flash to draw anyone in.

Tank's vehicle exploded and he swore and leaned back, stretching. "Alex, I think our company marketing is screwed up. No one is even coming in."

Alex rotated her own arms, standing to pace and get some circulation back in her legs. "The owner must have some plan."

"I think our owner is bonkers. This battery rocks." All of the employees had been given one of the laptop batteries as a company bonus just before the crew departed for the convention. The implications were only now being noticed and only by the super-nerds like Tank. "I've been burning up the processor and this thing is still showing 100% power."

"Really?" she walked over to peer diligently at his laptop. "Maybe the display is broken? Have you tried refreshing it?"

"Hrm. Good point. I'll try a reboot."

The reboot was just finishing when Noah stepped into their booth's "room". "Whoa!" Noah exclaimed, and then stepped back out, and then back in again. "How'd you do that?" He repeated his step out and then back in.

"Soundproofing in the walls, I think," Alex said cheerily. "Hi, Noah, how's the vlog going?"

"You remember me!" His eyes lit up.

"Of course. And I know you remember my name is Alex." She grinned.

"I do indeed, Alex," Noah said, walking over to the center display case. "A laptop battery?" he asked with some confusion.

Tank was muttering to himself and trying different diagnostic applications.

"Yup," said Alex, moving to stand next to him to stare at the lonely little unimpressive flat square in the case.

"How long does it last?" Noah turned to her.

Alex answered, "R&D is still working on the duration. Our directive is to just say 'long life battery'."

"I think you'd do better selling your soundproofing mechanism to convention booth people," Noah said. "That room is deafening out there."

"It's been suggested to our company owner, I think," Alex replied.

"Maybe I'll mention it in my vlog." Noah gave her a winning smile.

"How's that going?" Alex asked.

"Really well. I just crossed 1.5 million subscribers last month."

Alex, who didn't follow that type of thing at all and had no idea if that was truly good or not, said enthusiastically, "Rad."

"Would you mind if I brought my good camera gear tomorrow and did a clip of the noise reduction?" Noah inquired.

Alex shrugged. "Fine by me. I'll be on shift at 4 p.m. "

"Great, I'll see you then. I've got to finish scoping out the wares right now." Noah smiled at her again, bowed, and left.

"I think he likes you," Tank commented, not looking up from the diagnostic application he was running. "Bet you a dollar he asks you out tomorrow."

"Hah." Alex went back to her novel writing. She was now up to three major movies and two of her books were on the New York Times best sellers list. She was regularly using six pseudonyms by genre: Ray (romance), Rei (mystery), Rayy (western), Rey (sci-fi), Rae (fantasy), and Rai (self-help and textbooks). Inside each, there was a blurb about the R-writers - a small group who'd met online and were amused at having the same name with different spellings and decided to form a club to take turns inspiring and proof-reading each other's works. They cross-pollinated their audiences by giving website urls to all the R's in each of their publications.

By 4 p.m. the next day, the company had not sold a single battery and they were being mocked as the "biggest disappointment in the history of the technical convention". The green jumpsuits attracted snickers as employees moved about the convention using their power-cord free laptops. Employees had been specifically told not to take offense or try to defend their product, or engage in any way. Alex and Tank took over from the previous two workers and settled in for their respective activities.

Shortly thereafter, Noah appeared with his camera and mic on a stick to record their audio, or rather, lack thereof. "Hi, Alex, is it still ok to do a recording of your soundproofing?"

"Sure," Alex answered, smiling up at him. "Do you want our ambient computer sounds or should we mute them?"

"Leave them going, I think. It'll make it obvious that I didn't just mute the sound on the video. May I interview you when I come in?"

Behind Noah, Tank grinned and made a kissy-kissy face at Alex. In revenge, Alex said, "Interview Tank over there instead. He can talk for hours about his video games."

Noah nodded amicably and stepped out of their booth. They could tell he was recording, but couldn't hear what he was saying. He stepped onto their carpet, and spoke into his microphone with his camera pointed at himself. "And it instantly goes quiet. All that noise in the vendor hall is gone completely. Here, I'll do it again." His camera panned across both Tank and Alex. He moved out and back in. "Isn't that awesome? So, you might ask, what are they selling this technology for? Nothing, you guys, they're not selling it. Instead, they are selling what they are advertising as a 'long life laptop battery or charger'. "

"Which you should totally buy, dude," Tank contributed, not looking up from his video game that was clearly audible with gunfire.

Noah brought his camera to focus on their pathetic little battery display. "And that, everyone, is a lot of money to dish out for something you already have. We'll have to see what their specs are when they get published to decide if it's worth it." He turned off his camera and went over to Alex. "Say, what are the chances of my getting one for review? It would go well with the video."

"You'd have to buy it," Alex answered, palm up, begging forgiveness. "The company isn't passing out samples, even to reviewers."

"Too bad." Noah wrinkled his nose. "That's more money than I can part with."

"Yeah, it's a lot." Alex pretended to think for a moment. "You know what? You could buy it tonight, run your analysis overnight, and return it in the morning."

Noah raise an eyebrow and smiled warmly, "If I did, would you come to dinner with me tonight?"

Alex glanced over at Tank who rubbed his fingers together in the universal sign of "gimme my money" without looking up. Alex ignored this. Why not? She needed a break. Noah was attractive, lighthearted, and would keep her entertained with stories about his vlog. She answered, "Only if you absolutely promise you'll return the battery in the morning. I don't want anyone ever saying I bribed you to buy the thing."

"Awesome," said Noah happily. He set his camera on the floor next to the counter and reached in his pocket and withdrew his wallet.

"Our purchase agreement is rather detailed - covers the services that come with the battery and the usage restrictions protecting it," Alex informed him, "But you don't need to worry about that as you are returning it tomorrow anyway. Although technically, you can return it at any time for a full refund with no questions asked." Alex pulled up the legal document on her computer and turned the screen toward him. "The company is only selling to individuals and each person is only allowed to purchase one. It has a full lifetime warranty provided the battery itself isn't tampered with. If you change laptops, the new battery adapter will be shipped to you free of charge. Uh, what kind of laptop do you have?"

Noah told her.

Alex smiled. "Nice! Your battery is removable, but would you prefer an internal or a charger? I recommend the internal one."

"Internal, then," he answered.

Alex started entering in his information. "Oh, hey, do you want to type this stuff in rather than dictating to me?" It was the usual name, address, phone number type of data entry form.

Noah nodded and typed in his data. He typed faster than Alex and she wasn't slow .

Alex instructed, "Click that continue button. That next page has the legal agreements, just click on them. You agree not to tamper with or alter the battery, or try to reverse engineer it, and so on."

Noah went through the page. "That's an awful lot of legal notices. You've even got one in case I die." And then he got to the one about understanding that each battery had a remote locator in it in case of theft. "What? It's got a built-in tracking device? No way. That's crazy. No one's ever going to agree to that."

"You're only keeping it for a night. Don't sweat it," Alex grinned. "If you hit the disclosure icon there, you'll see that the location is kept encrypted on our servers to a password only you know. Should your device get lost or stolen, you give us the password, and we will retrieve the battery for you and if we are unable to do so, we'll remotely disable it and issue you a new battery free of charge. Oh, and don't bother plugging in your laptop to recharge it until your laptop reports the battery at 20% or less remaining."

He punched in a hopefully secure password for the remote location.

Alex got the credit card machine from under the counter as well as a compatible battery adapter and battery and ran his credit card. She scanned the battery's serial number with her laptop's camera and then popped open the adapter and pushed the battery until it snapped into place. She tested it with a multimeter from the counter's cabinet and nodded when it showed in spec. She put the credit card machine and multimeter away. "I can help you install it if you want to bring your laptop back, or I can bring the installation tools with me when I come to dinner?"

"I can install it," Noah winked. "I'm a tech-type."

Alex beamed at him.

"What time do you get off shift?" Noah asked.

"6, but you need to give me time to change into some jeans and a t-shirt." Alex figured she better say what she was wearing so he wouldn't plan somewhere formal. She didn't have any formal or even date-appropriate clothing with her. "How about I meet you at 7 in the convention lobby by the fountain?"

"Agreed." Noah retrieved his camera, took his new battery and the legally required pamphlet of device information, and departed.

The entire time Alex showered and dressed, she wondered if going on a date was a good idea. Not only didn't she have time for dates, let alone relationships, she knew at her core, she had trauma that would probably resurface. She'd said yes because she desperately needed a break in her routine and Noah seemed like a genuinely nice guy.

Why shouldn't she have a single evening like other girls her age? Every moment of Alex's life was so serious, so regimented, so deliberately planned, from the very moment she opened her eyes in the morning until she fell exhausted into bed, she had to be either making money, taking care of the company, or meeting some family obligation. She was tired, no, she was exhausted, burned out. She needed a happy, low-stress evening. Wasn't Milo always telling her to take a break?

She chose her favorite t-shirt - a comfortable cotton dark blue shirt with a space nebula on the front and the nine planets on back. It was sufficiently geeky without endorsing any franchise. She thought Noah might like it, but it needed to be washed. She'd worn it a couple times on the way out to the convention center. With a sigh, she had her picobots take care of cleaning it. Technically, that was a risk if someone happened to notice and calculate that she'd not had time to do laundry, but it was her favorite shirt and she wanted something that made her feel less anxious.

The simple earrings she'd brought to wear during the day seemed too plain and woefully boring for a date. She thought briefly on trying to locate some makeup. Wasn't that something girls were supposed to do? Apply makeup? Her fingernails were functionally short and unpainted, although neatly trimmed. Asking Milo to research and acquire some dating attire for her seemed like overkill.

Alex shook herself. How much of a date was this anyway? She only had tonight. Her company would pack up the next day and head back. As employees figured out just how long that battery would last, sales would start rolling in, and she'd be hard-pressed to keep up with the company growth. Money was going to become absurdly critical at an unknown rate and she was going to have to maintain the near-zero balance without going under.

Noah was waiting for her in the lobby. He'd also showered and changed into a nice pair of jeans and a relaxed Doctor Who t-shirt. His hair was still slightly damp and neatly combed. He did not have his camera.

Alex smiled in greeting as she walked up. "Did you get your battery installed?"

"I did," Noah said. "It's running the battery burn-in test now, complete with my camera running to record the exact moment it runs out. I'm not sure why your development team hasn't run test software yet. I can get you the name of mine if you'd like to pass it on. It's really good. It'll give a full report you can publish."

"I can certainly pass it on." That was another company her battery would put out of business if they didn't adapt. Alex tried not to feel guilty. "You didn't write it?"

"Oh, no. I just bought it. I have a lot of evaluation tools." Noah grinned and added, "Mostly donated, too. Reviewers can get a lot of things for free if they promise to do a review."

"Aren't there a lot of things at this convention to review? Why our battery?" Alex might be tempted to think he was only reviewing it because he wanted to take her on a date, but he seemed too smart to compromise his vlog for a girl.

"Eh, things from this convention will keep me busy for the next few months," Noah explained. "I roll out one review a week. I can't really say which week I'll get to your battery, or if I get a chance to."

Alex nodded, glad he was honest.

Noah adjusted his shirt, an indication of a bit of nervousness his voice didn't show. "So what kind of food would you like?"

"Anything marginally healthy. I have a strong love of vegetables." At his disbelieving eyebrow lift, Alex declared, "Really. I really do." She saw Brian arrive across the lobby and waved to him. He'd obviously hoped to catch her before she left. Tank hadn't wasted any time celebrating his newly won dollar with the Green World team. Brian waved back and then turned to go back into the convention.

"Your CEO?" Noah asked.

"Yup. I'll catch up with him later."

Noah turned to lead Alex to the door. "How about Thai?"

"Sounds great!"

They walked the short distance to the restaurant. Over dinner, Alex plied Noah with questions about his vlog which she'd never seen to his dismay. He was very enthusiastic and easy to listen to. His life was so completely foreign to hers that she had a hard time comprehending how such a lifestyle could even exist.

Alex was thoroughly enjoying herself when she saw Ethan enter with a group of other businessmen. Unfortunately, Ethan spotted them. He strode over while his colleagues were being taken to their table. "Noah, my man, don't tell me you wasted your money on one of those batteries?"

"Hello, Ethan," Alex said dismissively.

Noah shrugged. "I'm running the burn-in on it right now," he replied, nonplussed. "It's what I do."

Ethan leaned over and put his arm around Alex's shoulder. "Alex, did you tell him you're a high school dropout with a failed business?" His breath smelled like vodka.

Alex pulled free of his arm and gave him a bit of shove. "Ethan, go away."

Ethan frowned at her. "You shouldn't be mean to me, Alex. You're going to need another job pretty soon." He grinned maliciously and added, "Although you might want to go back and get your GED. Our custodial staff is already full. We might be able to put you in the mailroom."

Alex pointed. "Your business partners are waiting for you." She wondered how he knew she worked as a custodian.

"So they are. So they are," Ethan said. He turned to Noah, "She's not a good person for you to hang out with. You should reconsider your choice." He stumbled off.

Noah took a drink of his tea and appeared to be deep in thought.

Alex explained, "Ethan and I went to high school together for a short time." She wanted to say that Ethan was even more obnoxious drunk than he was sober and that one day he'd regret every cruel word he'd ever said to her - the imagined slight in geometry class had certainly been unintentional. Instead, she asked Noah another question about his vlog.

Their conversation continued, but it was stilted and soured. Noah requested the check, paid, and they walked back. Ethan was rich as well as powerful enough in the technical community to kill Noah's vlog if he took a mind to. Alex could tell Noah didn't think she was worth the risk and she wouldn't say otherwise. They wished each other a good evening and did not linger.

Alex went back to her hotel room, and hugged her pillow for a while, and then got up and dumped words into a brand new book - this one for young adults about the angst of dating while cruel classmates interfered. She was still typing when her wake-up alarm went off.

Alex washed her face, brushed her hair, and changed into the next day's jumpsuit and went in search of her coworkers and breakfast with her laptop tucked under her arm. The hotel restaurant was busy, but her coworkers had already secured a corner table. She took a tray and went through the buffet and then joined them.

"Good morning!" Brian said brightly.

Alex suppressed a sleep-deprived groan. "Hi, guys," she said sliding into the chair they'd saved for her.

"How'd it go?" Tank asked, and then seeing her expression, dropped his voice sadly, "Oh, I know that look. So sorry, babe. He seemed like a nice enough guy. You want me to go beat him up?"

Alex's eyes snapped to Tank, but then she realized he was just being friendly, not actually offering. This wasn't a Marino making that offer. "Naw, he's ok. We're just not that compatible."

"Did anyone get a chance to check their email this morning? I had some internet issues in my room." Brian wondered aloud to no one in particular. He was not directing his gaze at Alex, but he was surely speaking to her as if he were grabbing her shoulders and shaking them and shouting directly at her nose.

Alex wondered what she was missing. She'd deliberately left email off, ostensibly to focus on writing, but really because she hadn't wanted to answer any date-related queries. She'd check as soon as she was able. "I didn't get a chance to. Woke up late."

Others reported not having any internet issues at all, cementing Alex's conclusion. The conversation turned to some of the convention events. The discussion was merrily underway with a lively debate over some technical concept when Noah came into the restaurant, looking around somewhat wildly. He spotted her and came directly over.

"I can't return it," Noah said to Alex, setting both hands on the table and leaning toward her. "And you knew it."

"No," Alex pointed at Tank, "He knew it. I still think you should get your money back. You promised after all."

"You're not going to hold me to that," Noah gasped.

"Of course not," Alex replied. "I look forward to seeing your vlog, Noah."

Later when Alex opened her email, she saw their company forum had been flooded with requests by employees to open online sales before Monday. They wanted their family and friends to be able to get a battery before orders got backlogged. Alex fired off a note directing that employees were to be given a code that if entered along with an online order within the next 48 hours, would push the order to the front of the queue.

Sales began rolling in as soon as the online store opened. The backlog was nearly instantaneous.

Six months later, Brian summoned Alex, via text, to his office. When she entered, she saw yet another huge stack of papers on his desk. "Another one?" Alex asked, walking around his desk to look at them.

"That makes five this week alone," Brian informed her.

"Five?" Alex cringed.

Brian nodded. "Two others arrived this morning. I already sent those down to your Mr. Dioli, but out of curiosity, I read some of this one."

Luciano Dioli was set up in their new legal murder room one floor down, despite not being a direct Green World employee. Alex felt the room name was appropriate, but it was just the floor, converted into a massive legal library with large, magnetic white-boards in its common area and eight hopeful private offices. Alex picked up the stack, which contained at least 500 pages and went around his desk to one of his tables. "Go ahead and attach the increased signing bonus to the lawyer job postings."

"Already done. Look at page 4." Brian gestured at the papers.

Alex, who had randomly split the stack and was squinting at the tiny print on the page, reached back to the top half of the stack. She swore softly, peering at the court summons. "I guess you won't have to worry about having an anonymous owner anymore. Who sent this?" She dug through the pages until she saw it at the top of a list of five of their competitors including Cartwright- Jaxon Engineering, Ethan's dad's company. "Ok, I'll take care of this."

"I've already issued you a team of research assistants and dedicated IT personnel. Anything else you need?"

"Thanks, I appreciate that. I'll let you know if I think of anything." Alex collected her pages. "Don't worry over this. I'm prepared." She went downstairs, taking the stairwell instead of the elevator to burn off some frustration in physical exercise.

When she entered, Lu saw Alex's stack of pages, and growled, "No. I can't do another one. There's too much here already. I have got to have some help, Alex. Real, competent, corporate law attorneys." He added, "And not Milo. This stuff is out of his area of expertise."

"Don't panic. This stack's for me, Lu. It's got a court summons for the company's owner attached to it."

Lu winced sympathetically.

"We're getting research assistants and dedicated IT support," Alex said.

"I've already got a team. Your CEO allocated personnel for me last week. They're one floor down."

"Ah, good." Alex set the pages on one of the desks, claiming the workspace. She fired off a message to Milo that simply said, "204. ASAP." He had a massive folder of detailed instructions for every contingency Alex had been able to dream up. That one said to arrange her GED and bar exam.

Alex started back at the top of the mountain of papers, and went through each page, first the glance-memory, then closing her eyes, and really digging into the text. By page 25, she decided it was finally time to issue the counter-attack. She stood up and went over to Lu's desk. "Those the two new ones?"

Lu nodded and without even taking his eyes off the page he was reading, he pushed those relatively smaller stacks toward her. Alex flipped through those quickly, only looking for the responsible parties. She left to retrieve her laptop from her lab.

Alex paused in her lab to send off a note from Brian, to both the website team and the sales department. The website was to say: "The following companies have chosen to submit lawsuits against us. A company is made of its individuals who are accountable for their actions. The employees of these companies and their employees' direct family members and dependents are no longer eligible to purchase our batteries. When the companies withdraw these lawsuits or they are successfully resolved, purchases can be resumed after a 5 year penalty period. All pending orders from these individuals will be moved to a waiting list until the penalty period is completed or the individuals have moved to companies not trying to put us out of business. Only then will their orders be added back onto the end of the order queue."

Alex included the list of the names of the companies, in the order which the lawsuits had been received. That would cut down their order queue by a significant amount, and cause screaming by people who'd been waiting a few months, and cheering by people whose estimated delivery time got pushed forward. Technically, she ought to add the representing law firms to the list but this would create enough trouble.

Alex set her laptop on top of the latest pallet of batteries her picobots had finished, and took the pallet to its storage location, and then her laptop to the murder room where she spent the rest of the day going through her case and planning her response. She sent off a note from Brian to the custodial staff manager and human resources saying that Alex had been reassigned and to fill the position.

Two afternoons later, while Alex was sitting in the murder room eating the lunch she'd brought in against company rules, she received a text from Milo. Judge Newton, the man who'd finally signed her emancipated minor petition, wanted to see her and would not discuss with Milo why. Alex told Milo to arrange it for the following morning, thinking that she might as well go find out what new legal nightmare awaited sooner rather than later. Alex went back to preparing her defense.

The next day, Alex was escorted to Judge Newton's office by one of the court clerks. She was carrying her briefcase with her laptop in it just in case she had to wait and could use the time to work on her case or the latest novel that was now overdue. Judge Newton nodded in greeting as she entered. Alex set her briefcase on the floor and sat in one of his chairs.

"Thank you for coming," the judge said, clearing his throat. He had years of practice not showing what he was thinking and his lack of body language gestures offered no clues for what he might want. The office was unchanged from the last time she'd been there. The same tiffany lamp with its patterned glass shade and brass bottom lit his desk where a matching brass picture frame set next to the leather desk blotter and pen set. The books on his shelves had been rearranged slightly with a few new additions.

Rather than waste time on small talk, Alex asked directly, "What can I do for you, Judge Newton?"

The judge lifted his hand from his armchair and let it rest on the edge of his desk. "Not too many years ago, a gangly teenager sat here and put a mountain of money on my desk equivalent to a year of my salary and called it pocket change."

"I recall." That day with the backpack full of cash seemed like a lifetime ago. Alex felt like she went through that sum almost daily now.

The judge shifted in his chair. "I've had a lot of time to think about that lately."

"Do you need money, Judge Newton?" Alex tilted her head quizzically. Of all the people that might ask her for money, he was at the bottom of the list. He'd proven himself painfully honest and forthright in everything, a fact which had frustrated her when he'd been refusing to sign her petition.

The judge made a tiny shake of his head. "What's your relationship with Green World?"

Alex wouldn't lie, but she wouldn't answer either. "Need a battery?"

"I have one, thank you," Judge Newton replied. "No, I was wondering if you were in a position to slide some resumes to Green World's human resources department. Discreetly."

"Oh!" Alex couldn't hide her relief. "That, I can certainly do. I thought you were going to give me another court order to deliver."

"That type of thing is sent by courier." Judge Newton rested his fingers on the folder on his desk and said after a moment, "The legal community isn't that large, not at the top levels. Lawyers get together and talk. For example, I know the owner of Green World was recently subpoenaed and cannot get out of appearing in court." His gaze was penetrating.

Alex maintained a neutral expression and waited for him to continue.

"I've also seen what Green World has done for the local community. The salary your company offers is incredibly low, even with benefits, yet Green World has a 100% employee retention rate. Once an employee, a person never leaves, not because they are being forced to stay but because they enjoy working there. Even when people have been offered six times their salary to change companies, they stay."

Alex wondered who'd been offered that much. Money was really going to have to start cycling pretty fast to keep her company afloat.

Judge Newton continued, "I would personally be very sad if Green World were to fail." He slid the folder over to her. "Resumes for my son and three of his best friends. All completely trustworthy and willing to come work for you. They believe in the future, too."

Alex opened the folder and read. Four ivy league lawyers, all specializing in corporate law. Alex whistled in a long, deep inhale.

Judge Newton put his hand back in his lap. "You see why they couldn't go through any computer system to apply?"

"Yes, Judge," Alex answered. If they weren't hired and word got out, they'd be blackballed. "I will certainly see these get to the right person."

The judge stood. "It was a pleasure seeing you again, Miss Smith. I wish you the best of luck in your upcoming legal battles."

Alex also stood and shook his hand and left, thunderstruck. Outside in her limousine, she set her picobots to spy on the Judge. She had to know if they could be trusted. She couldn't risk a betrayal and they weren't family. But if... if only... she really needed the help.

Later that night, Alex waited in her windowless basement lab for the picobots to finish the next pallet and watched the picobot-relayed video feed of the dinner conversation going on at Judge Newton's house.

"Do you think she'll call us?" Randy Newton, the judge's son asked. This came after a long conversation with several other unimportant (to Alex) topics.

Alex's attention snapped to focus.

"I don't know," Judge Newton replied. "She didn't give any indication positive or negative. She didn't even acknowledge owning the company, but she has to. It's the only thing that makes sense. There's too much money involved. It has to come from the Marino family."

"Those bastards are going to tear that company apart until there aren't even scraps left for anyone to purchase. It's vile. I haven't plugged in my computer in three months. You know what those batteries could mean for the world if they scale up?" Randy pounded his fist on the table, shaking the flatware.

"She did boast that she was going to make a mountain of money. I can't see the Marino family risking this much for just laptop batteries." There was a pause and then the judge continued, "That girl sat in my office and showed off a photographic memory that would make any law student blind with jealousy. She may not need you boys."

"She needs us. Did you tell her about the legal war that's coming?" Randy said.

"It didn't seem appropriate." The judge refilled his wineglass from the open bottle on the table.

"Did you tell her about Fred's daughter?" Randy persisted.

"No," Judge Newton said firmly. "Again, it wasn't appropriate. She's part of an Italian Mafia family. I can't just announce, 'Hey, my kid and his schoolmates want to join your cause' and have it be believed at face value. 'Let me give you a bunch of reasons why you should trust them' is going to look even more suspicious. You know she can't just let anyone walk in and see all her legal plans."

Too true, Alex thought. It appeared at least Randy wanted Green World to succeed. She turned the picobot feed off. She moved over to her computer on the public internet and searched until she found Fred's daughter. There was one of those please-fund-me websites to get help for medical costs. She read. Even an ivy league lawyer wouldn't have enough for those absolutely imperative surgeries that the medical insurance was refusing to cover based on it being a 'pre-existing condition'. The website showed the surgeries were only 25% funded.

Green World itself couldn't cover another large expense; Alex's company was just about bankrupt and strategically had to remain so for a while longer. Alex deliberately imposed the artificial maximum amount of daily sales due to shipping personnel limitations. She would not let more than one shift work on it, and she would not let her people work overtime, nor skip exercise, breaks, or lunch. Another shipping shift would not be added that forced people to work late hours without the support from other areas of the company (namely, the gym and cafeteria).

Alex's ghost-written forum posts from Brian explained that the core values of the company (health, education, family, community, and loyalty) were not to be compromised for profit. The company sales were almost enough to support the business, but Alex was still sinking in money to keep the company afloat. Public records of the company's finances showed that the company would collapse any day, as soon as the idiot owner ran out of money. Despite the influx of court cases, this kept the major players - the oil cartels and power companies - from investing too much effort into destroying her. Money for Fred's daughter would have to come from somewhere else.

A week later, Alex had confirmed that all four lawyers actually did want to help her company survive, honestly and truly, with no hidden agendas and no espionage intent. Alex didn't deserve to be this lucky. The four of them had put every bit of their own money that they could into Fred's daughter's account, but it wasn't enough. His daughter's medical treatments needed to be started during the next few months or it would be too late. Green World's full medical coverage was needed and Alex had to find enough money to throw at Green World to support its medical coverage. She wondered if she could overhaul the medical industry after she got done with the energy industry. Medical only for the rich was criminal.

Mario wasn't likely to give her even more money directly. Alex went to talk with Mario at the restaurant that night anyway.

"No. Absolutely not," Sal's brother growled, not even waiting for her to ask for more funding.

"Actually, I had an idea. I need lawyers and they should be paid standard wages, but I can't hire them at Green World. How would you feel about setting up a company that I can contract for their labor? You give me some money and I'll turn around and pay the company, which pays them and takes its cut. At least some of the money comes back to you, all legitimately. They can work directly out of Green World so the business would have minimal overhead. Ultimately, the family gains because Green World still has to pay the family back for the loan." Alex conveniently left off the rather large amount that would go out to medical. That was just an incidental detail that Mario didn't need to be troubled with.

Mario rubbed his chin. He sighed. "Ok. Have Milo set it up."

Milo was waiting for her in the limousine when Alex came out of the building with her GED certificate in hand. "One down, one to go," she announced as she got into the back of the car.

"Congratulations." Milo handed her a small wrapped jewelry box and explained, "It's tradition to receive a graduation present from family."

"Tradition?" Alex carefully peeled the tape back and removed the paper. Inside was an exquisite gold necklace with a small sea turtle pendant decorated with a diamond. "It's beautiful."

Milo helped her put it on. "I thought it might go nicely with your court clothes."

"I'm sure it will. Thank you, Milo." Alex was touched. Kindness almost felt harder to deal with than problems. She blinked away wet eyes and reached for her laptop to continue preparing her case. There were so many things to get typed in for all of the contingencies.

Milo rolled his eyes. "Maybe you should sleep instead of work? The bar exam isn't going to be easy."

Alex sighed, pulling down the table in the limousine. "I'm not done yet despite the help from you and Green World's staff." She realized if she hadn't gotten those four lawyers, she wouldn't stand a chance at surviving this. They were taking care of the 'easier' cases. Alex continued working through the afternoon and evening as the car took them toward her mandatory court appearance in Washington D.C. At the midway point tomorrow, she'd take the bar exam in the most rigorous state that most of the other states would honor and then the following day, she'd be in court.

The next day, Milo accompanied Alex into the bar exam's check-in. He presented her credentials to the serious looking woman at the table. The woman's eyebrows went up. "This child is going to take the bar exam?"

I'm not that young, Alex thought, frustrated. But that's what she brought Milo along for - to mitigate these roadblocks.

"Yes, she's signed up," Milo said smoothly. "The fee is already paid. You'll see here, she has her GED as well as both honorary bachelor's and master's degrees. I'm her sponsoring lawyer. Here's my credentials." The two college degrees were something Milo had worked out by calling in a family favor at a standard degree-mill university. They were barely worth the paper they were printed on, but they had the dean's legally binding signature on them.

The woman described the testing procedure, which was entirely computerized with a much more extensive multiple choice exam replacing the traditional essays. At the end, she'd get a printout of her score sheet and a temporary certificate if she met the 75% passing score. This new testing system mimicked the latest trend in certification tests that reduced cost while still maintaining the same fee structure. Milo settled into the waiting area with his latest book and Alex went to the larger room to take the exam.

The test took longer than Alex expected it would, simply because the computer interface forced her to process one question at a time with a delay as it called up the next random question. It was tedious, but three hours into the eight hour exam time-slot, Alex hit the "Finish - you will no longer be able to go back and change your answers" button. Her score, a solid 98%, flashed on the screen, with instructions to go pick up her certificate. The 2% bothered her, but she knew experimental questions had been mixed in along with real questions and it was likely her interpretation of something was probably different than the answer-author's. The score would certainly satisfy her needs.

Alex stood up, stretched, and went in search of her printouts. The woman who had checked her in was looking at Alex with wide, amazed eyes as she handed Alex the certificate and score sheet. "Congratulations, counselor," the woman said. "That's an impressive score."

Alex smiled, "Thank you. I'm going to be in court tomorrow. Could I get you to put your name and cell phone number on the back of the certificate in case the judge wants to verify this? I'm dying my hair brown tonight, but you might note my blue eyes and appallingly young age."

The woman acquiesced. "I suspect you have a very promising career ahead of you, Miss Smith. I look forward to reading about it."

"I fear you just might." Alex gave her a slightly tilted smile and bid her goodbye.

Alex collected Milo, who upon seeing her score sheet said, "For crying out loud, Alex. You couldn't get those last 2 points? I'm extremely disappointed in you. Lost all faith. May I retire now? You're clearly unworthy."

Alex laughed. They rode onward to the courthouse. On the way, Milo gave her a matching set of "congratulations on passing your bar exam" sea turtle earrings.

A mob-scene of reporters and enthusiasts waited outside of the courthouse in downtown Washington D.C. for the arrival of Green World's owner. Alex bet more than a few competitors were also in that crowd .

"You sure you want to hang out here?" the hired driver asked, pulling into the pick-up/drop-off only zone. "It looks like it's going to rain and I heard the crazy owner isn't even going to show up."

Enjoying her last few minutes of anonymity, Alex grinned at the woman. "The owner isn't going to risk getting arrested. I'll be fine. Besides, I hope it downpours. Maybe it'll cut this heat and drive away some of the people."

"Well, if it does, there's a cafe four blocks that way, around the corner to the left, where you can get shelter for the cost of a cup of coffee. I doubt too many of these people know it's there so you should be able to get a table."

"Thanks! I've really enjoyed your company." Alex handed the pre-paid woman a reasonable cash tip. She grabbed her satchel-style briefcase that could be mistaken for a really large purse and climbed out of the car.

As she walked toward the building, Alex took a badge that looked vaguely like a press badge from her pocket and slid the lanyard over her head. Alex's hair was newly brown and tied back in a neat braid with a few stray curls off on either side of her face. She was also wearing makeup that helped her appear older, but was not overdone. The beautician Milo had hired for the early morning had done an excellent job.

Alex worked her way through the people and went into the courthouse. She presented her I.D. and the attendee ticket Milo had acquired for her. She was an hour early and had no problem getting into the courtroom despite the crowd. She took an unobtrusive seat in the middle of the audience area, off to the right, and settled in to wait, watching people arrive, and listening to conversations.

People were talking and worrying that the owner wasn't going to show up at all. A no-show would definitely mean an arrest warrant would be issued, just after the disclosure warrant demanding her name. Alex waited, wondering if she should have brought Milo along, both for the company and a less vulnerable appearance. There was no reason for both of them to be tied up in court; she was prepared.

Ethan arrived with three older, obviously high-power lawyers and they stood talking quietly for a while near the front. Ethan took a seat in the front row, directly behind their table, and the lawyers moved into position.

At precisely 2 minutes until the hour, Alex stood up, followed the side aisle to the front, crossed to the center, and went through the courtroom gate. She set her briefcase flat on her table and took a seat. The room erupted into conversation. Alex then opened her briefcase and withdrew a small stack of papers. She did not look behind her. Several cameras flashed anyway, illegal in the courtroom, but unpreventable.

The judge entered, heralded with the loud, "All rise!"

When everything settled down, the judge peered over his reading glasses. "Who are you, young lady?"

"I'm Alex Smith, your honor, the owner of Green World, as well as the inventor of the long life laptop battery." Alex strained her ears for Ethan's gasp, but didn't hear it over the roar of conversations that followed in the audience. Nuts. She wanted to surprise him and she certainly wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her look back at him.

"Where is your counsel, Miss Smith?"

"I'll be representing myself, your honor. I'm a fully qualified lawyer."

He took his glasses off and raised his eyebrow.

"I have my bar exam certificate with me if you would like to see it, your honor," Alex said.

The judge gestured. "Approach."

Alex took the papers she'd removed from her briefcase with her. Once at the judge's desk, she spoke softly. Let the opposition stew. "My GED, diplomas, and certificate, your honor. Here on the back of the certificate is the name and phone number of the person who administered the bar exam yesterday, if you need this authenticated."

The judge went through the pages, slowly. "Yesterday?" he asked incredulously. His eyes flicked over to the three grey-haired lawyers representing her opposition.

"Yes, your honor," Alex kept her facial expression neutral. "Ah, that's a page with Judge Newton's information on it. He can verify my identity as well as my ownership of Green World."

"Very well, counselor, go take your seat." The judge kept the papers. Alex wasn't worried. She could retrieve them or get copies again later.

What followed was a nauseatingly long recitation by Alex's opponents describing every law and patent that required investigation and a formal cease and desist directive. They shuffled their papers and went through things in great detail. Alex listened carefully, planning her opening speech to counter all points they'd brought up in the same order.

"Miss Smith, your opening statement?" the judge said.

"Thank you, your honor." Alex stood up, and choosing her words very carefully, cited opposing laws, case rulings, and dismissed patent claims for open technology. Each item directly matched and countered something the other lawyer had said, in the order that had been presented. She did not once check any paper, and in fact, had none on the desk in front of her. Her opponents scribbled away furiously.

When Alex concluded this longer and equally nauseating list, the judge proclaimed, "Court will resume tomorrow at 8 a.m."

Alex turned to face her opponents and spoke clearly, "See you in the morning, gentlemen." She took her briefcase and left. She did not look in Ethan's direction. Some of her picobots attached themselves to her opponents, the judge, and the attendees. Inside the courtroom, people parted like she were Moses and they were the Red Sea. Alex kept the corners of her lips upturned in a slight smile and stepped along briskly. Outside, Milo had eight bodyguards and the limousine waiting. Alex took up position in the center of their sturdy buffer zone and ignored the shouts of reporters and flashes of cameras.

Alex arrived the next morning in the limousine with her bodyguards. No point in trying to be anonymous anymore; Milo assured her that her face was plastered all over both news and social media. The judge opened the day by requesting all counselors attend him in a private office. He made them all sit and then started with, "Miss Smith, I took the opportunity last night to verify your credentials."

"Did you have any questions, your honor?" Alex asked. She held her back straight and tried to radiate both energy and confidence.

"Why did you wait so long to make your identity known?" The judge had dark sleep-deprivation circles under his otherwise bright and penetrating gaze.

Alex, who had spoken with Judge Newton that morning and knew exactly how detailed that conversation had been, replied, "My employees at Green World have a problem with our vegetarian cafeteria. I'm too busy to spend every moment arguing the point."

The judge coughed, obviously surprised by that answer. "Why don't you just allow meat?"

"It's not environmentally sustainable, your honor."

The judge turned to the three lawyers. "I don't suppose your clients would like to withdraw their case?"

"No, your honor," the senior lawyer among her opposition answered.

The judge sighed. "Very well. We'll resume in two weeks to give both parties a chance to review the opposition's opening statements."

The senior lawyer said, "May we ask for a temporary cease and desist order while the case is pending, your honor?"

The judge paused, thinking it over, and then declared, "No. All of you presented valid legal support for your sides yesterday. I'd prefer to hear discussion on these points before making any ruling. You're dismissed."

As Alex stood to leave, the judge held up a finger. Alex waited while the others stepped out. She pulled the door closed again and turned back to the judge.

The judge studied her a moment and then said, "Your credentials." He handed her documents back to her, eyes narrowing at her thoughtfully. "They have no idea what they're getting into, do they?"

Rather than answer that, Alex said, "Thank you for not issuing the cease and desist order, your honor."

The judge's fingers tapped his armchair. "How does your battery work?"

A court order to reveal how her battery worked would be challenging, but Milo, fully prepared, would take care of that. "Respectfully, your honor, the simple answer is magic. The complex answer would take you years of study to even understand the language necessary to begin to discuss the technology."

The judge rubbed his chin. "Hmmm. Go ahead and go. I didn't think you'd tell me."

Alex counted her blessings and departed. She had two weeks to sort out her employees who were going to feel she deceived them. Then she was going to have to justify the vegetarian kitchen. After that, she was going to have to go help her lawyers with the other cases. Then she'd have to work with Brian on business growth. She also needed to empty her lab so the picobots could make more batteries. And she was going to have to arrange the sale of yet another one of Sal's paintings - royalties from her latest novel weren't quite high enough this quarter. She could get twenty million dollars from that painting upstairs. After that... maybe after that, she'd be able to get some sleep.

Brian sweetly scheduled an all hands meeting for when Alex arrived back, with the agenda "Owner answers questions". They didn't have a meeting room big enough so they ended up in the cafeteria with most people standing. At least Brian had the decency to forewarn her: as Alex came into the building, he sent her a text message. She wasn't actually surprised; he'd been telling her that was his plan since the court session began.

Alex entered the cafeteria and Brian announced, "Everyone, the inventor of the long life battery and our owner, Alex Smith." There was applause.

"Thanks, Brian." Those that knew her well enough to catch the amused tone laughed. "First, I want to assure everyone that I'm the exact same person that's been taking out the trash, scouring the toilets, and hanging out with you in the gym and cafeteria." Technically, her picobots scoured the bathrooms, but that was a minor detail.

"What's with the vegetarian cafeteria?" someone asked loudly. "You were out at the protest even."

"Get right to the point, eh, Jon?" Alex grinned.

"You bet!" he replied.

The light tone and joking was actually very promising. They weren't angry. They weren't intimidated. They weren't upset. Brian had obviously interceded and laid the groundwork well.

Alex explained, loudly enough to be heard, "I'm omnivorous just like most of you. The fact is, it's just not environmentally sustainable. We can import meat, but it would be extremely expensive. I've been very careful to keep our food organic, non-GMO, pesticide, hormone, artificial ingredient, and drug free. You've noticed the health benefits of an improved diet and exercise, surely? Meat that falls into that category is very hard to acquire and is expensive to produce. We're relocating for more space and we'll be able to harvest our own greenhouses to cut some of our food costs, but we can't do a cattle farm to generate enough meat to serve everyone."

"Relocating?" someone asked .

"Yeah," Alex smiled at the change in topic. "I'm still working out the details of where, but our campus is too small. We've got to prepare for the next product rollout and we're going to need more space. If you have any ideas, pass them to Brian. And for the record, everyone, I'm still just an employee like you. Brian is in charge. I'm making super-long-term business decisions, but he's responsible for the near future and day-to-day activities. Your jobs are secure."

"What if the court shuts us down?" This came from someone in the back.

"It will not last. The law is in our favor." For the moment. "Paychecks will continue. Benefits will continue. We operated almost two years without any income at all and we can go more if necessary. Our products are going to change how people view energy."

For the next two hours, people asked questions, and Alex answered them, careful not to say too much about the long term plans, and never giving away the next product, or the secret to the battery. Afterwards, she was exhausted, but went to her lab to move the next batch of batteries.

Milo arranged the purchase of a securable property in Waldorf, Maryland which was south of Washington D.C. The daily commute would take an hour or two depending on traffic, but Alex could use the time to do work on her laptop and she would be able to hear crickets at night. It was far enough away from the courthouse and obscure enough that only the most persistent reporters would follow and those would be stopped by the gate and guards. They would simply sell the property again after the court case.

Alex had thought school was tedious, but court proved multitudes times worse. Endless droning and unrelieved reiteration of absurd minutia filled her days and unlike school, she couldn't drift off and think about important things. Instead she had to intensely focus and plan her counterarguments. Then she herself had to stand and present for hours. How judges and lawyers did this every day Alex couldn't fathom.

Alex seized the opportunity to spread her picobots around key locations and people in Washington D.C. Information gathering was critical. Eavesdropping on the government and her competitors was illegal, but she couldn't afford to get blindsided. Alex had triggers for when her name, company, batteries, or energy were mentioned. That's how she discovered that congress was working on a law to prevent energy device exports (i.e. her batteries). Congress was busy pushing it through in secret, buried as an appendix to some other bill. Alex sent notice to Brian, who could pass the information to her lawyers.

Meanwhile, Alex's court case dragged on. They were up to five weeks of endless rehashing of laws and rulings and jurisdiction issues. Alex had managed to dodge the safety issues by presenting 75 independent safety evaluations, including 3 by subsidiaries of Cartwright-Jaxon Engineering. They moved on to patent infringement possibilities and Alex was prepared for this too.

All morning, the lead lawyer for her opponents presented patents. Alex listened, mentally organizing her rebuttal. The session had an intermission for lunch and Alex sorted through her patent evidence and put it back into her briefcase.

"All rise!"

Alex was starting to hear "All rise!" in her dreams when she got a chance to sleep. During the week, she was researching new facility locations, catching up on the other law cases, consulting with Brian about their expansion, checking the reports from her picobots, and still trying to add to the novels that were bringing in a reasonably large cash flow. As soon as court let out on Friday, she'd take the family's private jet back to Atlanta, where she'd work non-stop on moving batteries her picobots were creating up to storage. On weekends, she only got sleep while the picobots were building, in 45 minute increments. 40 minutes of snoozing. 15 minutes to relocate the pallet up to storage, repeat. She flew back in time to go directly from the airport to the courthouse.

The judge cleared his throat. "Miss Smith, please present your counter-arguments."

"Thank you, your honor. The battery itself does not violate any patents." Alex stood. "I will take one apart and let you see it for yourself in a moment. The patents my colleagues presented reflect things on our battery adapters." Alex had noticed that the other lawyers really got annoyed when she called them her colleagues, so she'd been doing it ever since.

Alex opened her briefcase and pulled out a large stack of papers. "I have documents here for every sale we've ever made, and the adapter that was provided to the customer. I have here full design specifications and a list of the patents that were used for each adapter, and who holds that patent. I've also included the patent holders' requested payment and copies of our company checks to these companies per those agreements. I'd like to submit these for review. I'll be happy to go through each one in detail if you'd like."

The judge waved his hand for her to bring them over. He looked through the first few pages which were accompanied by a small USB thumb drive with complete information. "This is sufficient, Miss Smith. I'm sure we can read them ourselves later." He handed these off to a clerk to enter into the case as well as make copies for her opposition.

Alex, relieved at not having to go through that stack over the next four days, went back over to her table, opened the wheeled suitcase she'd brought in that day and removed a microscope, a multimeter, a couple of her batteries, a tiny flat screwdriver, a miniaturized electric cutter/welder, some gloves, and a small electronic device about the size of a square coffee coaster with a battery-sized red square printed on the surface. She said what each thing was as she withdrew it and set it on her table. The coffee coaster she labeled "Activation pad" although it did precisely nothing at all. Her picobots would do all of the work.

"The battery itself, your honor," Alex said, "Is just two metal squares pressed together and sealed. There's nothing special about how they lock together. There's nothing special about the design. No patents exist. As for the part that makes the battery work, your honor, if a patent existed for that technology, mine wouldn't be the only battery of its kind."

Alex held up one of the batteries. "If my colleagues and I may approach the bench, I will demonstrate, although I point out that the demonstration will not offer any insight into how my battery works." The judge nodded and Alex brought all of her items up to the front.

Alex made a show of testing her sample batteries with the multimeter and showing that all of them were in range for a laptop. She carefully set one on the electronic coffee coaster in the red outline, and pushed the small red button on the coaster. "Deactivates the battery." She used the multimeter to show that the battery was now dead.

Alex then put on her utterly pointless safety gloves and ran the cutter along the sides of the battery. The tiny blue flame was smaller than the tip of a fine point multi-liner pen. It looked impressive but didn't do anything. Alex's picobots diligently split the battery sides. Once she'd gone all the way around, she used the tiny screwdriver to pop the plates of the battery apart. She was left with two metal squares. There was nothing else at all.

Alex handed the metal squares to the judge. "As you see, your honor, two metal squares simply welded together." The exact same thing that everyone who'd taken one of her batteries apart had found.

Alex was certain this was infuriating to the poor sods who were paying $1200 at the very least to make someone give up their only battery. A molecular cross-section of the metal only showed three layers - a non-conductive casing, a metal shield that prevented x-rays and other diagnostics, and a decorative satin plastic exterior. Small positive/negative conductive strips went through the layers from the microscopic dent in the center where her own molecule lived in its tiny vacuum. Other small dents merely made that dent seem like part of the metal's surface, and when the vacuum was broken, it was exactly like all the other dents and utterly useless.

The judge and opposing lawyers diligently looked through the microscope at the battery's plates.

Alex continued, "Your honor, the materials used are not patented, a square of metal is not patented, and melting two bits of metal together is not patented." She spoke softly enough that Ethan, still watching from his place in the front row, would not be able to hear. Let him think she was explaining how it worked.

The judge inspected the small squares and then passed them around. When they arrived back to Alex, she reversed the process, resealing the metal plates, setting them on the activation pad, pushing the tiny green button, and then showing that the battery worked again with the multimeter. Her picobots inserted the rescued molecule.

"Miss Smith," said the judge, "How does that work?"

"I can explain underlying physics, if you'd like, your honor, but it's complicated and won't satisfy you or anyone else," Alex responded, pitching her voice to be neither encouraging nor discouraging.

The judge rubbed his chin. "Yes, I want you to do that." Then louder, he said, "Court is dismissed until tomorrow."

For three weeks, Alex gave a confusing, post-doctorate level explanation of forces, magnetic fields, and particle physics, complete with complex physics equations, which she diligently read aloud for the court recorder while writing them on the whiteboard with multicolored dry erase markers. Not a soul in the courtroom understood what she was saying. She included the equations that made the splitting of particles at CERN work. She made an offhand comment that it was the scientific research done at CERN that helped her figure out her battery so they could get more funding. Throughout she made note of everything that had associated patents and explained those and pointed out that her battery did not violate the patent. Never once did she touch on her new physics or her new molecule. She also never made eye contact with Ethan, a point which she hoped angered or annoyed him at the very least.

Her competitors were going to have to hire expensive top-level physicists to dissect her lecture, and when they were through, they were going to report that there was nothing new here, and then some bright soul was going to point out that she said she'd explain underlying physics, but not how her battery worked. It made a nice, distracting detour through smoke and mirrors.

On the day of the judge's ruling, Alex already knew what the judge was going to say from her picobot spies. She still got a lot of pleasure out of it.

The judge spoke loudly and clearly, "I find no case against Green World or its owner for copyright or patent infringement, safety violations, or any other discrepancy that would prevent Green World from continuing the production and sale of its batteries. Miss Smith, how many hours did you spend preparing for this case?"

"It's hard to say, your honor, I was working on other things at the same time. I've been very busy. I'm also salaried so I don't have to track which specific projects I'm working on or for how long."

"I see. What about you gentlemen?" the judge asked her opposing lawyers who glanced at each other and indicated that all three of them had been working for half a year on this case alone. "Miss Smith, what's your salary?"

"I'm on the same pay scale as everyone else in my company, your honor. With my annual increases, I'm at $35,000 plus benefits." Someone behind her made a choking sound.

"What about you three?" The judge peered at the other three lawyers. They named salaries in excess of $400,000. The judge wrote on a piece of paper, commented off-hand, "Plus benefits. Um." He wrote another minute. "Ok, Green World is to be compensated $1.5 million for time spent on this case."

"Thank you, your honor," said Alex with the same calm and clear intonation she'd used throughout the rest of the case.

"This case is closed." the judge announced. "Court is dismissed."

Alex took her briefcase and left. The people again parted like the Red Sea. Outside, she was surrounded by her buffer of bodyguards and she made her way over and climbed into the limousine where Milo waited.

"Do you want to know what the press is saying?" Milo asked Alex, just like he did at least once a week.

"Nope. I have enough to worry about without conjecture and rumors." Her standard answer. "We won. It's time to go to Hamasaki Corporation," Alex said, reaching for her laptop.

"How about a vacation and celebration instead?" Milo suggested dryly.

"I can sleep on the flight out. We go directly. Have someone at the other end buy us some clothes." She started tapping away on her laptop, sending directives to her law team, going through the company forums, and responding to Brian's emails.

Milo sighed and pulled out his phone.

On the private jet, Alex sat working on another novel while a woman re-dyed Alex's hair "just fixing the roots". Some of the dye splattered down on her keyboard as the stylist picked through her hair to make sure everywhere was covered. Alex wiped at the dye with the apron designed to protect clothing, but that thin, shiny material just smeared the chemical into a dark brown streak. The stylist, having missed the original splat, saw this, and rushed to apologize. Alex, bone-weary and headachy from the toxic odor in the confined space, snapped, "Just get me a wet paper towel."

Milo, across the cabin from her, shook his head at her in censure causing his oxygen mask tube running up to the jet's ceiling to twist around wildly giving him an alien antennae appearance. Lucky man over there with the untainted air. He went back to the book he was reading.

The woman scurried to comply, and Alex apologized, "Sorry, I'm just tired. I didn't mean to yell at you." Alex shifted on the padded chair again and bumped her laptop causing it to slide on the table. Alex pushed it back into place, frustrated. She supposed she ought to try for some sleep when her hair was finished.

For an exquisite moment, Alex daydreamed about ordering the jet to take her to a lovely Caribbean beach somewhere. She could build a nice grass hut and never go back. If the company dissolved, it would be enough to repay the Marino's. Did she really need this life? She never had a moment's rest. If only she could time travel so she could give herself more time to get everything done like that girl in that movie... what was that movie Sal had suggested before she went to high school? She was beyond tired if her memory was failing.

Sal had warned Alex that this would take years of constant, grinding work and that she'd likely give up. "Sustained effort is impossible," he'd said. "You work. You toil. You have the best intentions. But multi-year, sometimes even multi-month goals, are too hard. You're going to have to forgive yourself for not being perfect, and then you're going to have to pick yourself up the next day and start all over again. You'll have to find the drive, the motivation, every single day, and most days, you're going to have to carry on without that. You'll have to set aside thinking about doing it and just do it."

Even with masterful delegation, too many things needed Alex's direct attention. If she failed to get money from Hamasaki Corporation, she was going to have to cut a deal with one of the oil cartels or one of the governments. The former would hurt the environment, because the larger batteries would then need to be hybrids. The latter would cost individuals astronomic amounts due to regulations that required them to pay for energy monthly again, and would also tip the world's political balance in chaotic directions. At this point, even a merger with Cartwright-Jaxon Engineering wouldn't save them. She needed Hamasaki's deep pockets; her carefully cultivated community would be the first casualty in any other scenario.

Break things into steps, Alex told herself. She could only work on one thing at a time anyway, and first, she needed her hair to be finished and she needed her laptop to quit sliding around. Once again, she hoped with all her heart that the woman dyeing her hair wouldn't be paying attention to the novel Alex was typing. Alex didn't need anyone finding out all those R-authors were her. If only she could have some privacy and an input device that wouldn't move around! She adjusted the laptop to a comfortable typing position yet again.

Then Alex saw it - the computer that she wanted. Private, always available, comfortable to type on. Could she get her picobots to bend light? She closed down her laptop and spent the remainder of her hair service designing an interactive heads-up display. She could program her picobots to respond to touches on the "screen", or via a super comfortable keyboard forming under her fingertips. Her picobots could even give her tactile feedback.

App windows could move with her head, with an uncovered space in the center to let her see what was directly in front of her. They could then track her eyes and expand things she was trying to see. Her picobots could emit light directly toward her retina so only she would be able to see the "screen". The picobots could even collect stray light waves that might bounce off her eyelids should she blink.

Alex inhaled and exhaled deeply, giving her body extra oxygen beyond the chemical odor of hair dye. She could tie the input and output to a computer that she could literally leave anywhere and she could make the HUD easily control her picobots and she could ditch her bioshield ring. It was a lot of programming, but she could have a rudimentary setup by the end of the flight if she skipped sleep. She yawned.

Hermione. That's who she needed to be. Alex decided she'd take a couple extra days in Tokyo at the hotel to get some sleep before going over to Hamasaki Corporation. She couldn't risk being exhausted at that meeting.

Alex studied Kuro Hamasaki's business card. The elegant handwritten Japanese kanji on the back that said "Full courtesy to bearer." with his personal signature still clearly legible, even though the card had somehow gotten bent and a tiny bit rumpled. She hoped that wouldn't be construed as a horrible insult. All things considered, it was in remarkably good condition. She slid it carefully into her meishi case, a hand-stitched exquisite leather business card holder that Milo had somehow managed to acquire for her.

She tucked the meishi case into her jacket pocket, located safely above the waist because below the waist would be an insult. Despite the tutor Milo had arranged, she wondered how she'd manage to conform to all of the cultural expectations if Kuro Hamasaki would even see her.

Alex inhaled deeply and gazed up at the massive skyscraper blocking the morning sun. Somewhere inside, Kuro Hamasaki was going about his business, unaware of her standing outside. Should she have gotten an appointment first? No, she couldn't risk the cartels finding out about this move. She was not carrying any trackable electronic phone or laptop, although her new picobot HUD was marginally functional. With the private rented jet, Alex had barely made a blip on customs. The elegantly wrapped dagger that was her offering gift had been purchased after their arrival.

Alex checked her outfit - a trim navy blue skirt with a matching jacket and flat shoes with a pristine white shirt. She wore no jewelry, except for her bioshield ring. She could have been any of the business people striding in and out of the building if it weren't for her too-light brown-dyed hair. She'd reviewed her Japanese pronunciation. She carried a matching elegant briefcase. It was time. She needed a small mountain of money and another distribution point for her business to survive.

Alex stepped into the lobby - a cavern of marble and simplified beauty with a living wall of ferns, orchids, and other jungle plants muting the area with a quiet waterfall off to one side. Alex walked up to the desk confidently, knowing that Hamasaki security teams were already trying to identify her. Security cameras covered every part of the lobby, while an actual security booth with guards was farther back, beyond the reception desk; a person would have to pass that security to get to anywhere else inside the building.

The woman behind the desk stood. On the counter in front of her was a standard guest sign-in page and a fountain pen. Alex bowed, precisely at a 30 degree angle, and in flawless Japanese with absolute courtesy, she said, "My name is Alex Smith. I'm an associate of the late Salvatore Marino. I do not have an appointment. I would like to speak with Kuro Hamasaki." She carefully withdrew Kuro Hamasaki's business card and held it out in both her hands, with the handwritten side facing up and oriented so the woman could clearly read it, and waited with a neutral expression on her face.

The woman reached out and took the card with both hands. She read it, then turned it over and read the back. If she was surprised, she did not show it. "If you would please have a seat over there, I will see if he is available." The woman gestured toward a circle of comfortable looking sofas and chairs with end tables and magazines.

"Arigato gozaimasu." Alex went over and sat in one of the chairs. She watched the receptionist disappear into the depths of the building with the business card. Alex resisted the urge to run after it screaming, "No, wait! I need that!" Alex settled in and watched people come and go. Hamasaki corporate headquarters was a busy place.

About 10 minutes later, a woman dressed similarly to Alex approached and bowed, speaking English. "Miss Smith, Mr. Hamasaki is in a business meeting right now, but he requests you wait. It should be no more than a half hour. May I check you in? I regret that we must go through your briefcase and take you through an X-ray for security purposes."

"Thank you. Yes, I'd like to be checked in." Alex stood and followed. Alex signed her name on the check-in as requested and was given a visitor badge.

Along the way to the security check-in room, Alex counted no less than eight discreet, but heavily armed guards. Their weapons would not penetrate her bioshield, yet she still couldn't help feeling more than a little bit of trepidation. The security check-in room was spacious with an airport style millimeter wave scanner for personnel and an X-ray belt for items.

Alex set her briefcase on the counter under the watchful eyes of the guards, unlocked it and opened it. The only items inside were the gift-wrapped dagger, a battery stamped with her company logo and a small, plain ring in a small, plain box. They X-rayed all four items separately and then had her stand in the gate for people. Using her new HUD interface visible only to her, Alex toggled her picobots to allow the scans and passed their security. She reactivated her bioshield and they returned her briefcase and items.

"If you would please come this way, we have a private waiting room." Her escort said, ever so politely.

"Thank you," Alex replied, and followed to a large, tastefully decorated waiting room where there were more sofas, chairs, and tables with magazines. Another beautiful living wall decorated one side.

"There is a restroom through that panel," the woman gestured. "Please do not go wandering around the building. An escort is required at all times."

The woman bowed and left.

Alex set her briefcase in a basket apparently set there for that purpose and went over to admire the living wall. The woman returned almost immediately with a tray and tea, and poured Alex a cup. Then she departed again.

After Alex had admired each plant, she selected a magazine and flipped through it to give security something to observe. She did not sit down. Almost exactly 30 minutes from the original estimate, her escort arrived again.

The woman bowed and said, "Mr. Hamasaki is ready to see you now, if you would please follow me."

Alex nodded, returned the magazine to its original position, collected her briefcase, and followed. The woman flashed her badge at one of the elevators, which then opened. Alex had a moment of vertigo as the high speed elevator shot up to the 84th floor much faster than any elevator she'd ever been in. They were the only passengers. They passed more security guards as they went through several hallways. Two guards stood in front of a double door which one guard opened without comment.

They stepped into a very large, private office. A massive L-shaped desk with two leather chairs facing it barely took up an eighth of the room. A separate table would comfortably seat ten people. The far wall was entirely glass, looking out over the city, and along the right-hand wall was yet another living wall of ferns and orchids, while the remaining walls had glass display cases that showcased a magnificent collection of Japanese swords. Alex happily recognized one of the swords.

A bodyguard stood inside by the door, but Alex ignored him, focusing instead on Mr. Hamasaki who was standing by the window looking out. He was wearing an impeccable grey suit, and his grey hair had been trimmed very short. He turned when she entered.

Alex's escort announced, "Alex Smith-sama." She bowed and then left. The doors closed behind her.

Mr. Hamasaki walked over to her and offered his hand, which Alex shook gently, telling herself to relax and follow his cues. In formal Japanese, Alex began, "Mr. Hamasaki, thank you for seeing me without an appointment. I know you are a busy person and this could not have been convenient to arrange." She conscientiously gazed toward his chin, not directly into his eyes.

Alex bowed at a precise 45 degree angle, exhaling as she leaned forward and inhaling as she straightened - 'saikeirei' she reminded herself, for respect to people with very high rank or social status. Mr. Hamasaki returned the bow at a smooth 30 degree angle.

Alex then set her briefcase down and withdrew the carefully wrapped dagger and using both hands, offered it to him. She didn't turn to look, but suspected the bodyguard twitched. "Please accept this token of appreciation."

Mr. Hamasaki accepted the gift and replied, "Domo arigato gozaimasu."

Alex opened her meishi case and withdrew one of her cards. Bowing again, she offered Mr. Hamasaki the special business card that Milo had prepared. Just like she had practiced on the flight over, she held both her card and the meishi case with both hands, using her thumbs on the corners not covering any of the Japanese text or Green World's logo that were oriented facing him. She tried to appear as if she'd been doing this formal ritual all her life and hoped she was doing ok. Then she remembered her feet and realized they weren't at the correct angle, but she refused to adjust them and draw attention to this faux pas. She said her company, and her position as owner, and finally her name.

Kuro Hamasaki took the card, using both his hands, bowing again. He read the card and then also read the English printed side. "Hajimemashite, Smith-san." Smoothly, he offered his business card with both hands.

Alex took this with both hands, and reverently holding it on top of her meishi case, examined the English print, noting that some of the contact details were different from his previous card. Computer-printed Japanese kanji on the back simply translated the front. She did not show any sign of disappointment at this and she did not ask for the other card back.

Mr. Hamasaki offered, "My condolences on the passing of Salvatore Marino, Miss Smith. I always wondered when one of those cards would show up again. I was beginning to doubt they ever would."

"It was very kind of you to give them to us." Alex gestured toward the sword case. "I'm happy to see the sword restored and in your collection."

"Yes, our family is grateful to have it returned to us. What may I do for you?"

Alex thought that more small talk would have been in order before getting down to business, but maybe he was in a hurry? "The U.S. government is about to pass a law forbidding the sale of my batteries outside of the country."

He waited for her to continue.

"Mr. Hamasaki, this is a ploy to try to make me recant on my rule to sell only to individuals, as well as to unbalance political power in favor of the United States. While I'm not disloyal to my country, I am a businesswoman."

"What is it you want me to do? I do not control your government." Mr. Hamasaki gave her no clues to what he was thinking either in tone or body language.

Alex pressed on. Technically, he could influence her government and had in the past, but that wasn't what she was there for. She didn't have a use for his dark organization. "I would like Hamasaki Corporation to buy our entire stock within the next 36 hours before the law goes into effect." That got his attention; his eyes widened the slightest amount. "More specifically, to buy and resell to as many individuals as you can arrange. We have just about 856,000 units. I will sell them to you, for ¥111,000 each." This would be ¥22,000 less than Green World was selling them for. "You resell them, using our company's original individual ownership agreement, at a price of your choosing. That will make your company a reseller, not a purchaser, and my company's integrity to only sell to individuals remains intact."

"You have an eight month backlog on orders. How do you have that many units?" Mr. Hamasaki asked directly.

Kuro Hamasaki was certainly paying close attention to her company, or maybe some staff member had just handed him a full dossier before the meeting. Alex supposed the recent court nonsense riveted eyes on her company in any case. She could work this in her favor .

Alex walked over to the glass case with the sword. It was excellently restored, beautiful with that glowing watermark. "Foresight, Mr. Hamasaki. I'm prepared for a number of possibilities. By time you have sold your inventory, I should be able to get the law repealed because it is illegal. Should the law be repealed before that, I will not sell outside the United States until you give me permission to do so, and even then, we can continue to split the sales across the world."

Mr. Hamasaki came over to stand next to her, also gazing at the priceless sword that Alex and Sal had returned to his family. In the glass reflection, Alex saw the bodyguard tense slightly, wired for immediate action, should any threat be made.

Alex continued, "I know ¥19 billion minus labor expenses isn't a very high profit for you, but my company needs the influx of money."

"Until just now, I thought your company was going to fail. The community has underestimated you."

Alex merely looked at him and gave him a knowing nod. While she felt like smiling, she didn't. Smiles could be interpreted as not understanding, embarrassment, or disagreeing.

Mr. Hamasaki observed, "The sheiks will not be amused."

Alex responded, "Yes, that's why this meeting was unannounced. Hamasaki Corporation is more powerful than the sheiks. I would very much like you to be my partner. The laptop battery is not the only battery Green World is going to produce. Profit margins will grow higher, but our expenses will match."

"Did you bring legal documents for this?"

Alex was rather surprised at this directness. She'd been told decisions took time in a Japanese company. "I thought you'd prefer to have your own lawyers finalize it to make sure Hamasaki Corporation's interests are secure. The website listed on my business card will take your people to my draft, which you can modify if you'd like. I am an honorable person, Mr. Hamasaki. This is an honest offer. I have other contingencies, but this would make me the happiest."

"Do you know," Mr. Hamasaki paused, "That day when I came to your little store, Salvatore Marino said the only thing he wanted from me was a promise to listen to you should you ever come to me to ask for something? He didn't want anything for himself or his family. He said that only once in every ten generations there might be someone as worthy of support and protection."

Although Alex was shaken to her core, she chuckled and said lightly, "Mr. Marino was biased. I was keeping his store clean."

"Was he? What is the secret to how your battery works?"

"A secret, Mr. Hamasaki. I'm the only one that knows it and I'm not sharing. There is no point in taking them apart; the energy source cannot be discovered."

He nodded. He'd surely taken apart more than a few trying to get that answer, as had every other government and group with the means to do so. "Miss Smith, perhaps you would allow me to take you to dinner this evening with some of my family and associates?"

Alex nodded, trying very hard not to jump up and down gleefully. The dinner invitation meant a business relationship could be built. All she needed to do was not insult anyone, never pour her own drink, but pour his occasionally, enjoy some odd food, and maybe sing karaoke, or whatever Mr. Hamasaki had in mind, without making a complete fool of herself. "I would be honored. I'm staying at Palace Hotel Tokyo as is my personal assistant whom I'd like you to meet."

Alex went back to her briefcase. "I also brought two other things for you, Mr. Hamasaki," Alex said, opening it. "First, a battery. It's not in the system anywhere. Give it to whomever you like." He came over to see and she gave the battery to him using both hands, bowing at the 30 degree angle. Alex explained, "There are only four others that are in circulation that aren't tracked."

Alex then opened the box with the ring and took out his ring, identical to the one she wore, that would masquerade as a bioshield generator. "Second, this." She set the ring back in the box and held the small box out, again with both hands. Her picobots had fixed the ring size for him as she'd entered the room. The ring itself had microscopic electronics that if tracked very carefully, merely looped confusingly back on themselves pointlessly in a pretty, if super-complex multilayered Celtic knot. The actual bioshield was made of her picobots that would stay with the ring.

Mr. Hamasaki removed the ring from the box and stared at it. It wasn't very impressive. He at least understood enough to not take it at face value like Sal's brother had. "What is this?"

Alex glanced at the bodyguard, not really wanting to explain in front of him, but had to accept Mr. Hamasaki's trust in him. She could set her picobots to spy on him later. "As you said, the sheiks are not going to be happy. This is protection. It's a bioshield ring; bullets and knives won't reach you while you wear it. It would be easiest to demonstrate."

Alex held up her hand to show she was wearing a matching ring. "To show you its value, you will need a gun. I will stand over here by your window, well away from you and the gun so as to not be a threat."

Mr. Hamasaki peered at her curiously as she walked over toward the window. He turned and opened his office door. The guard outside gave him his weapon without question. Mr. Hamasaki closed the door again and turned toward Alex, wielding a MAC-10.

Out of the window, Alex could see a train gliding by below. Off in the distance, huge ships decorated shipyards and several moved about a busy port. The Tokyo Gate Bridge was visible and she wished she had time to visit the city's magnificent properties. Although the day was clear, haze still blocked any view of the Chiba shoreline across Tokyo Bay. Everything looked so tiny from this height.

Alex reluctantly turned from the incredible view and positioned herself so a stray bullet would go into the wall, not the window. "Shoot me, Mr. Hamasaki. You can't hurt me. Go ahead." She stood there, unafraid, confident, nodding to him.

After a brief hesitation, he raised the gun and shot at her. Alex didn't even flinch. His guards immediately rushed in at the sound of gunfire. Despite the suppressor, the shot was quite loud. Mr. Hamasaki looked at her still standing there even though he knew he just shot her in the shoulder. He handed the gun to his guards and dismissed them.

Alex walked over to Mr. Hamasaki, reached up to just in front of her shoulder, where the armor piercing bullet was seemingly hovering in the air a centimeter from her suit jacket, and pulled the bullet free and handed it to him, again with both hands as an offering and with a precise bow. The bullet was in pristine condition and could be easily recycled. The bodyguard's eyes were wide, but Mr. Hamasaki merely nodded and put his ring on. Alex continued, "There are only four other rings. Once you have power, you'd be surprised what you can do."

Several months later, Alex stood outside an Indian cultural center north of Las Vegas. Corbin May, the tribe's leader, had turned down Milo, so Alex was there to try and change that no to a yes. Just off the reservation was the perfect land for her new complex - open, beautiful, undeveloped, flat, environmentally dead desert, far enough away from Las Vegas to make competitors and spies more obvious. There was even enough space to expand to the size complex she wanted. It was neighboring the reservation, which had a community that desperately needed an influx of money and resources. It was perfect. And it was owned by Corbin May who'd told Milo, politely, but unwaveringly, to look elsewhere.

Alex sighed. She turned around and tossed her sunglasses into the rental car. She'd left her entourage back at the hotel, much to Milo's annoyance. How many crowds of people were likely to be at a remote Indian cultural center anyway? Probably not too many assassins. With her bioshield, she was in no danger anyway and she honestly wanted a chance to stand alone in the open desert and stare at the sky. She wanted to see if she could shake off the sense of crisis that was hovering constantly in the back (and sometimes front) of her mind since her lucrative deal with Kuro Hamasaki.

Alex adjusted the purse Milo had thrown at her angrily while yelling "take this, you fool!" just as she was getting into the rental car to leave the hotel. Alex greeted the somewhat bored person at the ticket counter politely. This was a small community. Everyone would know everyone else. "Just me," Alex said, opening the purse to look inside. She hadn't realized until just now that she was going to need money. Good grief. Even when he was livid at her, Milo still thought to take care of her. And to think she'd thought he'd thrown a purse at her so she could use it as a costume accessory to better blend in. Alex handed the woman one of the 20 dollar bills from the purse and got change.

Alex ambled through the center, carefully looking at each display and reading, absorbing the text on the little plaques and watching every multimedia presentation. Who knew what might help her convince Corbin May. The center only had a few other visitors and they outpaced her. One of the displays described how Soaring Eagle created the cultural center to educate and bring in funds to help the community. The center was responsible for the new waterline from Las Vegas 20 years prior. A little bit later, there was a small plaque with the caption "In honor of Corbin May in thanks for the waterline."

Alex arrived at the gift shop and diligently picked up books that she'd not seen when she was researching this tribe. She also picked out a beautiful handmade vase that she thought Sal's brother might like and two rugs, one for herself, and one for Milo that she expected Milo wouldn't like at all. She paid, again silently thanking Milo for the large sum of cash he'd put in the purse. She took everything out to the car and stood there in the painfully sweltering heat and went through every book.

Then Alex hiked back into the cultural center and went to the ticket counter. She took her ticket receipt and borrowed the guest pen and wrote her phone number on its back while the woman watched her silently. Alex handed the receipt to the woman and said, "Please give this to Soaring Eagle. Tell him," and she switched to their native tongue, "The desert rock weeps for the future."

Alex turned to leave and saw a couple of local teenagers coming in. One of them instantly recognized her and squealed, "Oh my God!" He immediately rushed over, leaving his friends to catch up. "Ma'am, I love your battery! It's amazing!"

Alex blinked, caught off-guard. Here? "Uh, I'm glad it's working for you."

His other friends gathered around and he asked, "Please can I have my picture taken with you?"

Alex could hear the Kingsport Academy teachers screaming "It's 'may I'! One demerit!" It jarred her sense of the present. "Uh, sure," she answered wishing she didn't sound so stupid. Then after a moment's panic, she added, "But please don't post it to social media until tomorrow? I'm on vacation. Kind of incognito." She pushed aside her thoughts on the future Green World complex and focused on the teenagers.

The boy nodded enthusiastically, "Of course!" He handed his phone to one of his friends. "I can't believe you're actually here. Of all places you could go, our reservation wouldn't seem to be at the top of the list. "

Alex smiled for the photo and then repeated the same with each of them. "Oh, I don't know about that. Your desert is amazingly beautiful."

"Have you been through our cultural center already? We can take you." His eyes sparkled with enthusiastic excitement.

Alex pondered the time. She supposed she could postpone the novel writing that she had planned for later that afternoon. "I have, but I'd be honored to go again and see it through your eyes."

He beamed at her and for the next hour and a half, he and his friends gave her a tour of the cultural center with detailed commentary about all sorts of things. Alex asked questions and kept them going with a focus on tradition and their community and what interested them. The education she received was far superior to just going through and reading the plaques. They confirmed that Corbin May was indeed Soaring Eagle.

Afterward, Alex thanked them and got a group photo for herself of all of them which seemed to be the expected thing to do, and bade them farewell. She got into her rental car for the long drive back to her hotel in Las Vegas. It was several hours later than she'd intended and the sun was setting.

After an hour on the black dull night road where there were no lights at all and no cars, Alex sorely missed having a driver. She was exhausted and noticed her car drifting across the road lines several times. She stopped the car on the side of the road but not off the road so far that the hot engine would ignite the dry, flammable desert shrubs. She got out to stretch her legs.

The night air was chilly and Alex shivered. She supposed she should have brought a jacket, but it hadn't even occurred to her. She wasn't supposed to be out after dark. Then she looked up. Stars, more than she'd ever seen in her life, gazed back at her. "Wow," she breathed. "Oh, Brian, why didn't you tell me?" She wondered if she could eventually build a spaceship and see them even more clearly. She bet Brian would approve.

When Alex got too cold to stand there looking anymore, she got back into the car and drove on. She knew immediately when she got back into cell phone range because her phone started beeping and then ringing. She ignored it; they could track her location by her phone's GPS. When she got back to the hotel, Milo was waiting, along with her bodyguards. They escorted her in.

Alex slept through noon in the ornate Bellagio suite with a rare abandon. She yawned, stretched, and rolled out of bed. Over at the window, she saw the sun was high and checked the clock. Silently groaning, she rubbed her eyes and padded out into the common area. Milo sat at the table working on his computer. One of her off-duty bodyguards sat on the sofa, watching a movie on his tablet with earphones plugged in. "Good morning, gentlemen," she said quietly .

"Afternoon is more accurate," Milo replied. "Did you enjoy your outing yesterday?"

The previous night, Alex had ignored all inquiries, tossed her phone on the counter, and stumbled directly to bed. Alex retrieved her phone from the counter. "Please order room service. I think I need to hear what's in the news about me." She unlocked her phone and pulled up her picture with the kids. She handed the phone to Milo and went back to her room to shower and dress.

Alex stood in the hot water for a long time contemplating her next moves. The alternate building sites weren't nearly as good, but at least she could count on the owners taking a pile of cash and stepping aside without hesitation. She'd send Milo to do those negotiations. Too much time had already been wasted here. She heard the hotel room's front door, then trays rattling and soft voices. She got out of the shower and dressed. Her stomach rumbled.

Midway through the meal, the hotel room phone rang. Milo answered it. "Yes, thank you. We'll be down in a moment." He hung the phone up and turned to Alex. "You must have done something right. There's an Indian named Soaring Eagle down at reception waiting for you."

Alex immediately left Milo and the off-duty bodyguard to clean up the lunch mess while she took her eight on-duty bodyguards and went to greet Soaring Eagle and escort him up to their suite. After Milo's description and examples of the current news coverage over lunch, she realized she wouldn't be going anywhere without a buffer of bodyguards for a very long time. It wasn't just masses of reporters she had to worry about. Her pictures up at the reservation with the boys were already flooding social media. Luckily, her hair was still brown, and she'd been wearing her makeup which had only slightly wilted in the desert heat.

In the chaotic lobby, Corbin May was still easy to spot. He was the one in full, magnificent, formal Indian garb being escorted by two younger men who were equally decked out. He was possibly the oldest person Alex had ever seen. Wrinkles covered his face and hands. White braided hair was barely visible under his headdress. He stood proudly, his bearing holding him apart from the mass of people.

Alex walked over to him. People were taking pictures of them, both Alex and Soaring Eagle, and she would have been hard-pressed to decide which of them people found more fascinating. Perhaps they thought he was a performer.

Alex's bodyguards, keeping the crowd back really well, parted enough for her to approach Soaring Eagle. In his language, she said, "Thank you for coming."

Soaring Eagle stared at her, studying her for a long time, and then replied in the same tongue, "Wind Walker told me where to find you."

Name for one of the young men she met the day before, maybe? Alex hoped he wasn't there to tell her to go away. "Would you accompany me to my room so we can have a private meeting? "

"Come to my house this evening before sunset. I will hear your proposition." Without another word, Soaring Eagle and his escorts turned and left.

Alex watched him go and then took her entourage back to their room. Milo was waiting, pacing anxiously. Not seeing any Indian following her, he asked, "Did he turn you down?"

Alex shook her head. "He wants to talk with me this evening up at his house." She smiled at her bodyguards. "You guys are going to have to take me. That drive was awful. I have no idea how you do it."

One of them smirked and joked, "About time we got appreciated. Can we get a raise?"

Milo answered lightly, "Ask Mario. If you dare." They all laughed at the ongoing joke.

Later in the afternoon, the stretch limousine pulled up on the dirt road next to a single story flat-roofed box house. Neighbors peered out of their windows and then relocated to stand on their doorsteps and stare. Alex climbed out, waved to them, and went to the door and knocked.

Soaring Eagle was no longer wearing his full Indian formal dress and was now just in jeans and a t-shirt. From his bearing, however, he could still have been formally dressed. He stood aside to let her pass and then took her to the kitchen which was quite likely the only common room given the size of the house.

"Soda?" he asked in English.

"Just water, please," Alex answered.

He nodded and got two glasses which he filled from the tap and brought over. Alex took a sip and noted the water had a slightly sulfuric odor, not toxic, but not particularly pleasant. She drank anyway and waited.

Soaring Eagle sat and after a moment, he continued in English, "Ever since your man came to inquire about buying my land, I have been plagued with disturbing dreams. I have consulted our ancestors many times since and each time, they say the same thing. The desert rock weeps for the future. How did you know to say that?"

Alex blinked in surprise. "I... didn't. I just wanted to give you a message that might make you curious enough to speak with me. I want to purchase your land for a while and build my community here, respectfully, honoring the desert and your traditions. I want to coexist with and build up your community and people. When it's time, we'll pack up and leave, returning the desert to its natural state and ownership back to you." She was planning a full island settlement out in the Pacific Ocean, but she needed the intermediary step to grow large enough to protect an island from pirates or an invading government.

"Hmmm." Soaring Eagle closed his eyes, not speaking for so long that Alex wondered if he might have fallen asleep on her. Just as she was about to gently prod him, Soaring Eagle opened his eyes again, and said quietly, "Do you know mother earth is dying?"

Alex answered slowly, wondering what his desired response was. "The human race has certainly done a lot of damage. I'm hoping my batteries will stop some of that. We are dumping a lot of our profits into environmental cleanup." As Soaring Eagle frowned, Alex wondered what she'd said wrong. She waited.

Soaring Eagle cleared his throat and looking even older and incredibly worn out, he said, "Our ancestors tell me that it is already too late - that mother earth cannot support us any longer. The desert rock weeps for the future because our generations are the last on this planet for many moons."

Alex's eyebrows scrunched in concentration. He was trying to tell her something else, too, from his expectant gaze. Finally she just asked, "What else do your ancestors say?"

Soaring Eagle inhaled and in a tone that made Alex's skin prickle with goosebumps, replied, "That the one who sees the weeping desert rock can save our people. They show me a great city in the sky, close enough to touch the stars, where our people will be safe. They direct me to tell you to build it with secrets. That time is short." He remained perfectly still, avidly watching her response. "Does that make any sense to you at all?"

What in the world? He wasn't joking. Alex swallowed. She felt compelled to answer honestly, "I'm not a mystic. I believe in science. It's true that I have thought about traveling to space and I might even have a way to do it eventually." She'd only just considered it the night before actually.

Soaring Eagle put his hand flat on the table as if stabilizing himself. "I'm going to give you my land even though every bone in my body screams not to trust white people ever again." His eyes were wet but did not drip. "You will build a city in the sky and when you go, promise me that you will take my people."

Alex couldn't imagine how she might build a space station in the near future that might be sustainable. She could barely get the people in her company to accept her vegetarian menu. A space station would be even more restrictive. She'd have to rethink her entire plan for the future. "I promise that if I can, I will. Is that good enough?"

Soaring Eagle nodded, just once. "Will you stay and do a pipe ceremony with me, despite your science deity?"

In his language, Alex replied, "I'd be honored, Soaring Eagle."

The ceremony was beautiful, with several locals as well as Milo and her bodyguards attending, but Alex did not experience anything mystical or particularly enlightening. When Alex finally arrived back in Atlanta, she started going through every scientific paper she could find on earth-related issues. She built formulas, crunched numbers, and studied the results. Her conclusion scared her to death. Everything she was doing had to be accelerated and she was going to need a space station as soon as possible. All of her plans had to be reprioritized to put the space station first, above everything else, including her business. She went to speak with Brian.

Several months later, Alex surveyed the beginning of their Pacific Ocean island. Right now, it was just a small, functional habitat for the ocean cleanup crew. Under the pretense of reducing the Pacific Ocean trash island, Alex was creating their third location in international waters to eventually be a beautiful resort and safe habitat - an Earth-side residence when her desert habitat launched into space.

The island would eventually lift into space to become part of the space habitat too, but that didn't need to be done for some years yet. Right now, it was just an inconsequential floating barge that would collect and sort trash that she could recycle into the next battery casings and island mass. With luck, no one would notice the size of the facility growing into an island. Alex didn't want the United States government getting the idea that she was forming her own country. She'd need to come up with a good excuse for the expansion.

The living quarters would still be as small as those in Atlanta. It was the only way she'd be able to enforce the rules necessary to have a sustainable habitat. She'd only told Brian about her plans because the employees were positively livid that the new facilities weren't going to have larger living quarters. In Atlanta, they could understand the cramped apartments; there really wasn't anywhere to expand to, but out in the desert and here in the Pacific, they had space, and yet she was still building a cramped high-rise in the desert, and demanding their ocean facility match.

Despite the leaps forward and the money she was dumping into both new locations, she was very unpopular. Out at the reservation, the locals were screaming about her high-rise buildings ruining the environment and taking over their horizon. Soaring Eagle was supporting her, but at what cost within his community, Alex did not know. Her original plan to keep everything low and spread out had to be scrapped in favor of creating a habitat that could be lifted into space. She needed the extra land for oxygen producing plants and the illusion of a larger environment.

She didn't expect her unpopularity to change even when she announced SEL the following month. That's what she'd decided to call her solid electricity, that was neither a solid nor electricity, but a wall of picobots and mutated molecules that could be dynamically reconfigured into any shape or size. It was stronger than steel, could be made impermeable or permeable, hard or flexible, solid or transparent. She was going to use it to enclose their desert habitat to moderate the temperature and keep out unwanted guests, and then to create the new buildings as she hired even more people. Over time, she'd also use it to create ground, air, and water vehicles and get people used to safer traveling as well as heights.

SEL required a large amount of matter and energy initially to provide the correct particles for the picobots and she was currently staring at an island of trash that was just what she needed. The environmentalists she'd hired were busy setting up and working out the best way to harvest the trash while not harming any sea life.

The island facility also had a gym and cafeteria, but would be missing other support staff for a while. They could still cross over to California if they needed to or travel to either of her other locations. Alex had added facility-to-facility travel expenses to the company-covered costs. Money was evaporating while the world and her competitors went crazy trying to figure out how she was still in business with such insane practices. Even the influx of Hamasaki Corporation's money wasn't going to last forever at her current spending rate.

Alex personally shook hands with every employee on the ocean cleanup barge and thanked them for their dedication and sacrifice living in such a remote location. She assured them that their labor was worthy and necessary and would help the planet. She called them noble heroes and promised them her continued support and funding. She made sure they knew to report any problems or needs to Green World's direct environmental efforts manager so they could be addressed as quickly as possible. Alex wanted this project to be an environmentalist's dream job that would attract the exact type of future citizens she wanted.

Alex departed by helicopter and reflected that travel was consuming far too much of her time. She needed to get back to the Atlanta facility and get the next set of batteries ready and figure out exactly what the desert facility needed to look like in order to become a space station. Instead of working, Alex slept, bone-weary, and knowing that 24 hours in a day weren't enough to get everything done that needed to be done. The bumpy helicopter ride wasn't nearly as comfortable as transportation Milo would have arranged.

In her Atlanta lab, Alex was buried making more batteries when the text from Milo arrived on her HUD inviting her to lunch. Alex wondered what new demand Milo would relay on behalf of Sal's brother. She wasn't as up-to-date on family business as she should have been; there were just too many other things pulling at her attention and time.

With the new desert facility creation and the Pacific "island" growth and keeping the Atlanta facility steadily producing batteries, while trying to get more novels written for the income, all of her time was taken. As soon as the desert facility was set up, Brian would relocate there along with the bulk of their employees who were providing support services that helped create a community. Atlanta would remain mostly a shipping and distribution office .

Alex sent back an acceptance text; after all, family had to come first. She owed the Marino family fund a significant amount of money. Although she assured Mario every time she spoke with him that he only had to wait another few years at most, their family balance was barely enough to maintain business. Alex had reallocated some of Hamasaki's money back to the family as part of the loan repayment, but the debt was still huge.

Every time Alex sold one of Sal's paintings, she felt like wailing, but Sal had told her to in his letter so he'd realized it would be necessary. The art vultures were having a good year because Alex simply didn't have enough time in the day for everything and random influxes of several million kept Green World's balance sheet positive at moments when her other money sources weren't quite enough.

Brian, who assumed most of the company growth planning and work, had suggested they increase the price of their battery - a proven business strategy to compensate for high demand and low budget - but when they were finally able to sell overseas again, the price had to be low enough for the less wealthy. Alex was still trying to maintain the appearance of a business about to fail so her competitors wouldn't invest as much effort into destroying her company.

Alex stretched in her chair, yawning. The cracking sounds from her bones were ominously loud. Maybe she could get a workout in before lunch? Alex was spending entirely too much time sedentary and her muscles felt stiff when she stood up. She also needed to work on another book, but she knew her physical health was more important.

Alex changed out of her normal Green World fatigues and into a typical young business woman's skirt-suit. She added some sunglasses, a hat, and exercise shoes, so she would look like someone taking a work-break. Employees who recognized her would realize she was "off-duty" and wouldn't bother her. She thought briefly about calling her bodyguards, but Sal's brother had security patrolling the streets already. She left through her lab's back door so no one would see her leave except Mario's security patrol.

The heat hit Alex like a crashing tsunami when she stepped into the sunlight on the hot Atlanta street. Combined with the humidity, it was so hot that the air was hard to breathe. Alex immediately changed her mind about a brisk outside stroll for exercise. No one out walking lingered and cars crept by, adding their exhaust fumes to the heat. It was hard to imagine that the heat never bothered her when she lived on the street, but now her body had fully adjusted to climate-controlled interiors and couldn't adapt or cope.

Realizing it would take longer for her limousine to arrive and then drive her to Gente Di Mare than it would take her to actually walk the distance, Alex set out at a reasonable pace. After a few minutes, she directed some of her picobots to cooling the air around her so she wouldn't arrive at the restaurant as a puddle of sweat. It was a subtle thing but nearby people were so intent on getting out of the heat that they didn't pay any attention to her .

As Alex approached Sal's shop, something thudded into her chest's bioshield, causing her HUD alarms to trigger and she skipped a step. She rebalanced and looked down. A bullet was lodged in her picobot net, just over her heart. A second bullet immediately landed a mere inch from the first - a controlled pair, not a double tap.

Preprogrammed, her picobots were already tracking the bullet trajectories back to their source and relaying visuals to her HUD. Alex grabbed both bullets and stuffed them into her pocket as unobtrusively as she could, noting as she did that these were standard hollow point rounds designed to do maximum damage to an unprotected body.

The nearest person was plodding along staring at his cell phone and didn't look up, and no one else was at an angle to notice.

Alex started walking again, keeping her steps normal, so she wouldn't attract any attention. Her heart beat wildly and she felt her palms flush with adrenaline. She hoped the assassin wouldn't swap to a higher velocity round that would break the sound barrier. Any chance of her bioshield remaining unknown would be gone. She was already insanely lucky she didn't have her bodyguards with her because they would not have been paying attention to their phones.

Her picobots found the assassin with his gun secured in a backpack trying to depart a low-rise building's rooftop a good distance down the street. The picobots instantly surrounded and immobilized him. He was fast to have packed out that quickly. Alex directed her picobots to give her a view of the roof and then had her picobots walk him back to the space between a tall air conditioning unit and a raised utility shed, where he'd been hiding from the view of adjacent taller buildings.

Alex detoured to the other side of the street to investigate. The street-denizen movements returned to her and actually felt more natural than walking down the street had. She slid along the street, angling and setting her pace for the target alley next to the assassin's building, so that when she arrived, she could duck in without anyone seeing her. She'd be in the street and then suddenly not in the street, actions timed perfectly to avoid notice.

Setting her picobots to bend light around her and hide her from view, Alex climbed the fire escape, wishing she weren't in a skirt, and pulled herself up the last bit to the rooftop by a drainpipe. Her arms complained at the now unaccustomed exercise. She was definitely going to have to move around more and stop skipping the company's required gym-time. She strode over to the man.

Alex tried not to look at his eyes which were rapidly darting around trying to figure out an escape, but the memory seared into her brain anyway. He was dressed as a homeless man and given the pile of detritus nearby, he'd been living on the roof for some time. She dug through his supplies, looking to see if there was anything that would indicate who had hired him, knowing without a doubt that he wouldn't be carrying such a thing.

He did have a meticulously maintained FN SCAR converted to fire 5.56mm instead of its original 7.62. The Special Operations Forces Combat Assault Rifle was a much higher quality than the one in the Marino family vault. He also had a high end scope, a satin-black full tang combat knife, sharpening stone, and three close-up pictures of her from outside the courthouse in Washington D.C.

She moved her picobots enough to look through his pockets. Unsurprisingly, he had no personal identifying items. He would have gotten the hit from a database with no direct contact with his employer.

Search complete, Alex sat back and rubbed at her neck. In addition to trying to kill her, he knew about her bioshield. She couldn't let him live. She instructed her picobots to block light and incinerated him, and then after a moment, did the same with the rest of his gear and all of his trash. Within a minute, all that remained were small piles of ash that would blow away with the wind. She didn't need his gear and maybe his employer would think he took the first half of his payment and ran, disappearing into anonymity.

By the time Alex arrived at the restaurant, residual fear and panic had replaced her adrenaline. Which organization had spent that kind of money to kill her? Should she look to mafia families or oil cartels or governments or any one of the businesses hers was destroying? She could task Mario with finding the responsible group and taking care of them. How long could she keep her bioshield secret?

Milo had already arrived and was seated in a private alcove toward the back. Alex joined him. He stood when she arrived, and she shook her head when it looked like he might come around and pull out the chair for her. His eyes sparkled and he was practically bouncing with energy. Good news, then, she thought, pushing aside the assassination attempt. She'd have to deal with that unpleasantness later and certainly not in a public restaurant in any case.

As they sat down, Alex observed, "Is that a new suit?" His meticulously tailored grey suit was untouched by the sweltering heat outside; apparently he had the sense to take a car.

Milo grinned proudly, eyes twinkling. "Brioni. It's Italian. I'm not going to let you sit on this suit coat, no matter how cold and wet you are."

Alex laughed, remembering the limousine seat he'd protected from mud with a suit coat easily five times more expensive than the seat. "Right now I could go for being cold."

A waitress and a waiter brought them drinks, salads, and bread with olive oil for dipping. They would not be given menus and Alex bet the chef was scrambling in the kitchen for just the right meal to serve. When the staff had departed, Alex noted, "You look like you just won a Nobel prize. What's up?"

Milo sat up even straighter, full of enthusiasm, and reached in his pocket and passed her a small decorative envelope with her name on it .

Alex peered at it quizzically and opened it. It was a wedding invitation for Milo and a woman named Kelly Sue Marino. "You're getting married?" Alex gasped. She hadn't even known he was seeing anyone.

"I am!" Milo's broad smile made it clear how happy he was. "Mario sent me to help her about nine months ago. She was recently widowed and was having some legal problems. Her husband was a Marino. We've been seeing each other for a few months now. I'm still in a bit of a daze myself that she accepted."

"Congratulations! Tell me about her?" Alex didn't use her HUD to pull up the relevant information, preferring to hear it from Milo instead.

"Kelly's a chemical engineer. She has two young sons, ages 1 and 3, who are adorable and super energetic, respectively. And she's fantastic. Amazing. Hard to believe I'm this lucky."

"I think she's the lucky one. I'm so happy for you, Milo. You deserve a fine woman to love you."

"She asked if you wanted to be one of her bridesmaids?" Milo continued smiling, but didn't add any pressure to the question.

"I really don't have the time, Milo. I'm sorry. I have too many things I'm trying to take care of to add any more activities."

"I told Kelly that's what you'd say, actually, but I promised her I'd ask anyway."

Their food arrived - classic ragu alla Bolognese sauce over tagliatelle pasta - which was perfectly prepared. While seemingly mundane, Alex knew it was the national dish of Italy and very apropos. They set to eating and Alex continued to ask Milo questions about Kelly and her two sons throughout the meal.

Afterwards, Alex had Milo drop her off back at Green World; no more walking in the heat and being a potential target for assassins. She didn't bring up the attempt because she didn't want to disturb Milo's joy and because she didn't want to hear his lecture about taking her bodyguards with her everywhere. She disappeared into her lab to study the problem of security.

Her conclusion: Mario needed to hire more people and he would need more money to do that. This meant she was going to have to cut him another check from Green World toward what she owed him. Given how closely she was balancing Green World's funds and the expenses of building both in the desert and in the Pacific, that would push her company negative and into bankruptcy. There simply wasn't enough money at this compressed timeline schedule.

The only way Alex could do it would be to roll out the second product a year early, and that would make more enemies to potentially hire assassins. She groaned and launched their second product anyway - an appliance battery (for televisions, refrigerators, stoves, and desktop computers) a year ahead of schedule, without fanfare, with the simple expediency of just having the programming team add it to the company webpage as a purchase option.

This battery was the size of a coffee cup with a power outlet on it and sold for $2200. Orders rolled in as soon as someone noticed and word got out. Again, only 1 per customer and only for individuals, with the exact same absurd legally binding contract. A reasonable backlog of orders was nearly instantaneous. Each employee was again gifted one as a bonus and there was a 48-hour code for family and friends of employees to be expedited.

Then some bright idiot on the internet pointed out that the battery was strong enough for cars and boats and published some instructions for adapters and converters, and overnight, the backlog quadrupled.

Lawsuits from the oil cartels rolled in along with violent threats. Even with Mario's increased security measures, Alex was losing at least three hours a day to analyzing potential attacks her picobots noted and dealing with them. Her violence intending enemies experienced equipment malfunctions, gas leaks, car accidents, heart attacks and strokes, unexplained gang shootings with ammunition that couldn't be tracked back to any specific weapon. Her picobots quietly did as directed and dispersed. Alex regretted necessity and felt some of her soul slipping beyond recovery. She rarely left the direct security of her facilities, not wanting to endanger her bodyguards.

Due to the data analysis workload, Alex announced SEL three months later than she wanted. She began with transparent, shimmery domes over the desert and ocean facilities. People were nervous about it at first, but it gave them single entry points to secure, and as business and life continued as usual and employee movement was unrestricted, they adjusted. The desert facility enjoyed a more stable temperature, and a smaller dome inside of the desert dome was made into lush forest habitat that matched the Chattahoochee National Forest. The reservation's residents staged a protest but Soaring Eagle dispersed it.

Alex added a SEL-only enclosed high-air climbing fort, with slides, rope courses, and semitransparent platforms. Each day, the maze rearranged to become a new puzzle. This was ostensibly another exercise area, but in actuality, it was designed to get people used to both SEL and heights. Molecular scans of SEL items only showed the expected matter particles; the picobot security prevented their detection.

Alex's picobot fleet reported Hamasaki's dark organization finally entered the combat on the side of her lobbyists and got the law forbidding overseas sales repealed. She felt a little sorry that the government officials hadn't caved sooner because they surely hadn't deserved the consequences.

Shortly thereafter, a courier from Kuro Hamasaki arrived at her desert facility to deliver the message that Mr. Hamasaki would personally ensure her supply and distribution chains if she would consider allowing him to continue with overseas sales in select Asian and other countries. Alex instantly agreed, arranged the first shipment of both styles of batteries to Hamasaki Corporation, and the war truly began.

As violence escalated, Green World, the Marino family, and Alex remained as white and innocent as newly washed angels according to the local and foreign law enforcers, who searched desperately but couldn't find any connection back to the violence clearly being waged around her batteries. Alex didn't mind at all that a large chunk of her profits went to Hamasaki Corporation. While everyone was focused on her batteries and money, the real task could be addressed. All her energy went to creating a sustainable environment and community that could survive living on a space habitat.

Alex picked up her shoe and dropped it again, watching it fall to the floor with a thud. She was in her Atlanta lab, waiting on the picobots to finish off the next pallet of batteries, and trying to figure out what to do about gravity. Gravity was a weak force when compared to the others, so weak that in order to see gravitational waves, neutron stars or black holes had to collide.

Her space station, while as large as she could make it, would still be minuscule compared to other celestial objects, and just like the International Space Station and the moon, would be in free fall around the Earth, flying in a curve to never hit the Earth. People and things would appear to be weightless unless she could find a way to locally create gravity. Human muscle mass and bone density would deteriorate without gravity to push against long-term.

In Alex's research, science fiction solved this problem easily with spinning constructions, miracle orbits taking advantage of centrifugal force, or tidal forces created from collapsed matter. Alex had to deal with reality, not fiction. She needed the mass of the Earth, proportionate and localized to something the size of a space station that wouldn't affect the gravitational fields already in place around the Earth and moon.

The space station also had to be close enough to Earth to allow routine transport between the station and the Pacific island and whichever airports politics allowed. At least SEL could provide better shielding than current technology and easily protect the habitat and transports from radiation and temperature issues.

The soft chime sounded indicating the batteries were ready, and just for variety, Alex took it upstairs to storage with just one shoe on. The odd limp was depressingly comforting. Her life seemed to be stuck in some horrible daily time-loop and there were never enough hours to get everything done. Sometimes she felt like collapsing into a puddle of tears, and sometimes, she did sit in the corner of her lab with her knees pulled in and her head down, waiting while the picobots worked. This never actually helped, though, because in her mind, she still splattered formulas across the horizon trying to find solutions.

When Alex returned from dropping off the pallet, she decided to do something she knew she could succeed at - making a vehicle she was happy with. She'd take it out to the ocean and test it against the depths. She wanted to see that ecosystem while she was able.

Alex phoned Milo and as soon as he answered she said, "I need you to buy me a large, ocean-worthy yacht to take from here, through the Panama Canal, and over to our Pacific installation. It needs to be operable by a minimum crew, all family, and we'll need a helicopter transport back to the mainland afterwards."

"How big and how soon do you want it?" was the yawning reply.

"Doesn't matter how big. I'm going to add it to our Pacific installation. Just something nice and by tomorrow morning." Alex glanced at the time on her HUD. It was already 11 p.m. She had no real concept of time in her windowless lab and monotonous routine.

Milo yawned again before answering. Alex could hear his steady, unhurried inhale and exhale. He finally said, "The family will need more time than that to pack."

Alex sighed. "Yeah, I know. Just give me a call when it's ready."

It was almost five months later by time both the yacht and latest high tech equipment were assembled and Alex and six family members took the brand new custom yacht through the Panama Canal. Milo did not come along, citing his own family obligations.

As they waited for their turn through the canal, Alex deployed a massive amount of picobots for South America. At some point soon, she'd have to visit South Africa and do the same to that continent. The fresh air and sunlight helped shake off some of her stress, although she continued to work on her novels .

Halfway between the Panama Canal and her Pacific installation, their ship made a quiet, unscheduled stop and Alex tested the first personal SEL vehicle, which was just big enough for herself and propulsion and atmosphere units. She made sure the inside atmosphere had stable pressure, composition, and temperature, and took it down into the Aphotic zone where no light reached. At one point, a giant squid came to investigate her light which scared her in its size but thankfully left her alone. New vehicle designs would have a SEL reserve to convert to repellants and weapons if needed, but the SEL shielding didn't bend or buckle.

Using an invisible column of SEL anchored on the ocean floor, she lifted an equally invisible basketball-sized sphere with diagnostic units skyward. Alex planned to lift her space station the same way. No splashy fast fuel expenditure, just a nice elevator column skyward until they were high enough to gently launch into a stable orbit. Then they could maintain orbit with minimal fuel use. She adjusted the base of her column for better support and her sphere achieved orbit with a subtle push. Picobots relayed back information from the diagnostic units and she ordered them to destroy the sphere, diagnostic units, and column. SEL would easily be able to provide the necessary shielding and the launching system would work.

When the yacht reached her Pacific installation, Alex was pleased to see the facility was growing nicely. The shimmering dome enclosed the facility along with a one mile buffer in every direction. The dome dynamically reconfigured to only be solid if an unidentified vehicle or violent storm approached. The ocean and its denizens were unimpeded.

As trash was carefully extracted, with absolute concern for marine life, it was dumped into a bin that "melted" it (picobots molecularly rearranged the matter) into huge blocks that were then tacked onto a platform on one side of the barge. When the blocks were eight-deep, they used the new space for buildings. Inconspicuous SEL columns secured the island's location.

Common areas were built: the gym expanded, a really nice recreational facility was added, a library appeared with a wide variety of books, and a large, protected pier became home to a small collection of company owned leisure yachts that trained personnel were free to use. The workers were pleased to have another fine yacht added, but more delighted with the new testing and reclamation equipment.

On the private jet flight back to Green World's Atlanta facility, Alex took the opportunity to scan through the reports from her newest picobots. She squinted at her HUD. That wasn't right. She was missing a large block of data. Some of the picobots weren't sending their reports. She dug deeper. No, they weren't just failing to send their reports, they were completely gone .

That shouldn't have been possible. No one else had Alex's picobot technology or was even aware of it. Alex felt her stomach drop. Apparently, someone else did have her technology; someone who could actively destroy it. Alex was no longer playing a simple game to create a country in the Pacific Ocean where children would always be safe. She needed a space station to survive the Earth's inevitable upheaval. She couldn't allow herself to fail.

Trying to subdue her panic, Alex fired off requests for diagnostics from all of the South American picobots. While she watched the message spreading out from her local picobots, she dug her fingers into her thighs, rubbing at them nervously. She wouldn't get a full analysis until she was back in Atlanta. Unable to think about anything else, Alex stood and paced, ignoring the curious gazes of the Marino's returning with her.

The rest of the flight, Alex considered contingencies. Could she recruit whoever it was? Could she convince them of the greater good? Could they be bought? What would she do if they destroyed all of her picobots? Her entire space station design relied on having those available to create the necessary habitat. Would it be necessary to kill them?

Alex tried briefly to work on gravity equations, but simply could not focus. She tried working on her novels, but the words refused to assemble. She couldn't even comprehend the posts on Green World's internal forums. She paced more, desperately brainstorming every solution that she might need, hoping that the necessary one would be peaceful.

When the jet arrived in Atlanta, Alex went straight to her lab, ignoring a summons from Mario and subsequent texts from Milo. The diagnostics began rolling in. They were active in all of the northern countries of South America. The picobots went the full length of Chile and were in Uruguay, but not a single picobot reported from Argentina. That certainly suggested a nation-state threat which might be harder to convince of her noble intentions than a small corporate board or stockholders.

Alex called Milo.

Milo answered on the first ring. "Mario's been trying to reach you."

"I need a flight to Buenos Aires as soon as you can arrange it," Alex said, already thinking about what diagnostic and collection equipment she was going to need. There might already be an opposing picobot fleet.

"Alex, you need to meet with Mario. There's family business that needs your attention."

"I want double the number of bodyguards I normally have and I want some of the family arsenal with me." Alex listed several of the guns that would be most useful for defense.

"Alex! What are you talking about?"

"Just take care of it, Milo." Alex ground her teeth together, and then added, "Tell Mario I'm going on vacation." She disconnected the call and began building specialized equipment. Then she built herself a high end standard bulletproof vest. It would be heavy and awkward, but it was better than dying. She supposed showing up in bulletproof full plate armor like a medieval knight was too impractical. She'd really become dependent on the security her picobot bioshield provided. Alex vacuum-packed some picobots so they couldn't be affected by whatever was there until she could monitor the interaction with her equipment.

As soon as her airplane door opened, all of her picobots, including her bioshield and HUD, dissipated. Not leaving the Marino private jet, Alex turned on her diagnostic equipment and ran some tests. As soon as she released the vacuum-sealed picobots, they were modified by rogue code. There was another picobot fleet made of her own picobots but with someone else's programming.

It took her four trips back to Atlanta and two months to reverse-engineer the foreign code and write counter-code, and three months to alter the code on her already-deployed picobots to increase security, evade detection, and prevent altered picobots from infiltrating. Overall, the picobots' efficiency dropped way down, but they were more robust. Alex wondered if it would be enough to repel direct attacks.

Alex ignored messages from everyone, telling Milo to take care of family business and Brian to take care of Green World business. Alex spent another month creating seek-and-destroy picobots to hunt down modified picobots, which she didn't deploy. Instead, she vacuum-packed them and hauled them back to Buenos Aires for ground-zero deployment.

Finally, after way too long, Alex sat in a hotel room in Buenos Aires, watching the super-fast pattern of picobot conversions and deployment of her original picobots on a geographic overlay of Argentina. An hour later, she found the epicenter where her original picobots changed into the altered ones in a laboratory at Instituto Balseiro on the western border of Argentina. Maybe her opposition wasn't the government of Argentina after all. Could she be that lucky?

Instituto Balseiro was an extremely prestigious technical school. Alex packed up her entourage and left immediately for San Carlos de Bariloche, the school's home. Rather than fly, which would have been much faster but would have announced her arrival with a huge red flag, she chose to drive in a three-car parade. They used standard rental cars instead of limousines and she had bodyguards in the lead and trailing cars, as well as in her own car. They took the toll road and arrived 24 hours later.

After the flat, open roads of central Argentina, Bariloche itself was a lovely, green town with the school next to a beautiful lake across which could be seen magnificent mountains. Now that Alex was closer to the epicenter, she could get a more specific reading. The epicenter wasn't in one of the laboratories, as Alex expected, but in the student housing, which was odd. Leaving behind everyone but one bodyguard, Alex took one of the rental cars and went to the campus. At the guard entrance, her "father" asked to tour the university. The guard gave them passes and let them enter.

Alex went directly to the dorm where the picobots were being modified. The student wasn't home, so she sat down in the hallway to wait, while her bodyguard leaned on the wall across the hallway. The young man in his mid-20's who arrived two hours later, saw her, hesitated mid-step, but approached anyway. Alex stood up, shoving her laptop back into her backpack. She missed her HUD, but with the rogue picobots dueling her new picobots, she couldn't rely on her HUD.

"Hola, ¿sabés quién soy?" Alex said in Spanish, asking if he knew who she was. She was still keeping her hair brown, so that one day when she went back to her natural color, she might be more anonymous.

He nodded once, nervously, and glanced back down the hallway where some of his classmates were headed toward their own rooms. He stepped around her, unlocked his door, and invited her inside with a silent gesture. Due to the room's small size, she left her bodyguard in the hallway.

The culprit for the picobot alterations was an odd, hollow rectangular tube made from a recycled desktop computer case with a small fan blowing through it and some unique electronics. It wouldn't have been able to create picobots, but could obviously hack them.

When the door closed, he answered in strongly accented English, "I was hoping it was you. Those robots show an understanding of physics that is not being taught at any university. " He set his backpack on his desk, took out his own laptop and plugged it into the wall for recharging.

Alex watched him try to assuage his nerves by routine actions. She supposed if their roles were reversed, she'd be a quivering mass of panic just now. Alex explained calmly, matching his chosen language, "A sad necessity due to people trying to steal my batteries on their way to customers. That's what the picobots are doing - helping my batteries reach customers." She continued in English. "Just keeping our delivery people safe. I'm sure you've seen the news?"

The young man nodded again. His eyes were wide with a hint of underlying anxiety. He proceeded to unpack his books and stack them neatly on his desk. After a moment, he started putting them back in his backpack again.

Alex took one of the several laptop batteries she'd brought along from her own backpack and set it on his desk next to his laptop. "Want one of the batteries? Consider it a thank you gift for pointing out some serious security flaws in my picobots." As of that morning's research, only two of the professors here had her batteries and she suspected they'd pooled their money for it. Overseas shipping, the US dollar unadjusted-for-geography prices, and import taxes made them harder to acquire. Alex added, "A flaw which I've now corrected, incidentally."

His curiosity doused his anxiety instantaneously like a bucket of water poured on a lit match. "How does it work?" he asked, reaching for the battery and picking it up.

Alex's mouth quirked into a sideways grin. "Don't bother taking it apart. It'll stop working."

"So the Internet says." He inspected the small wafer from all angles.

"I'm Alex," she said with the amused smile still on her face. Her own stomach was still swirling about. So many things depended on this conversation.

"Lucas." He was turning the battery over in his fingers, measuring its dimensions by touch.

"What's your major, Lucas?" Alex didn't think she'd ever met anyone quite so intensely focused before.

"Estoy estudiando para una licenciatura en física." Lucas was getting a bachelor's degree in physics. That he answered in Spanish showed his distraction by that small metal wafer.

Alex waited patiently for him to stop fondling her battery.

When Lucas finally looked up again, he bit his lower lip. In English again, he said, "Tell me how it works or I will tell the world about the robots." He set the battery on the desk near his laptop, with only the slightest hesitation before pulling his hand back away from it.

She quirked an eyebrow at him. Did he really have the nerve to threaten her? Alex replied calmly, "All that will do is create panic and elevate the violence to the subatomic level as other people figure out how to abuse the technology. You know from the programming on mine that all they do is catch sound and light waves." The specialized ones, like SEL and her bioshield... well, she had no intention of letting him near those. "I think you know that or you would have already told your fellow classmates and professors." She shifted her weight to her other foot but managed to stop her unconscious attempt to cross her arms in front of her. She needed to maintain nonthreatening body language. "Why do you want to know, anyway? Want to make your own to sell?"

Lucas continued to chew on his lip. "It's new physics. You've done something impossible under the current models. How? We've been taking apart formulas and we have not found any errors. I just want to know." He unpacked his backpack again. "Green World is turning out new physics almost annually so we're missing something critical. Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to know that there's knowledge being deliberately withheld? You might as well show a dying man in the desert a picture of water." He sorted his books so that the biggest was on the bottom of the pile. "You create perpetual energy. You cancel sound waves on an impossible scale. What is SEL? It can't really be solid electricity. What else could be done if more people were able to study the formulas?" The frustration was clear in his voice.

Alex might have been concerned about his threat, except she was having a hard time not laughing. The poor young man was putting his books back into his backpack again without even realizing he was doing it. Alex took out her laptop and ordered her picobots to build the correct adapter for his computer next to the battery.

Lucas gaped as the adapter built up out of nothing, as if being printed by a 3D-printer, but without the printer. A book was forgotten in his hand.

Alex set her laptop repair kit on the desk and took his laptop, unplugged it, and flipped it over. When the adapter was finished a mere minute later, she took the battery and snapped it into the adapter. While she was installing it, she commented casually, "I'm building a space station. You don't happen to have any ideas on artificial gravity?"

"It can't be done." He glanced at the backpack and book in his hands, frowned, and firmly set them both on the floor next to his desk.

Alex felt her soul wailing, but then realized that sometimes technical people needed question variations because they always answered so literally and specifically. She tried again, "How about real gravity on a space-station scale?"

"Your picobots create that adapter?" Lucas asked astutely, watching her reseal his laptop again.

"Yes." She opened his laptop and pressed the button to power it on.

"Should be able to make gravity easily, then," Lucas stated .

His offhand, distracted confidence nearly made Alex scream in frustration. She'd been working on the problem far too long and she needed the solution desperately. "How?"

Lucas bit his lower lip again and then exhaled. "Trade." He crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"I can't. Lives depend on my success. Mankind has proven too many times that they tear up the environment for greed and abuse technology." Alex turned his laptop so it better faced him as the login screen appeared.

"You don't think your robots spying on people is abuse?" Lucas tapped in his password.

"No," Alex explained, "It's keeping the violence down and protecting innocent bystanders. Today alone, our couriers have avoided 11 ambushes, one of which would have blown up a busy street corner. Dozens of people would have died. We use the picobots' information to reroute our couriers. Those intent on hurting people seek out another opportunity." She sighed. "Only a couple people might actually be able to grasp the underlying theories anyway."

"But I might be one of them. Hire me." Lucas launched his battery status widget. It was showing the full 100%.

"You might have started with that instead of threatening me," remarked Alex. She hoped he wouldn't realize just how desperate she was for both his silence and the solution to her gravity problem. The need for the space station outweighed everything, even the need to keep her battery design secret.

"I'll give you gravity. You give me what the community is missing. I want in. I promise not to tell anyone or discuss what I learn with anyone - I'll keep your secrets. I swear it." He looked so earnest that it was almost painful to see.

Just then, as if whispered on the wind, Alex heard Soaring Eagle say, "Build it with secrets. Time is short." Goosebumps spread across her arms and she rubbed at them to smooth the hair back down. She couldn't trust him, or could she? Feeling like she was jumping off a cliff, Alex heard herself ask, "How soon can you be packed?"

Lucas blinked, almost as surprised as she was. "I have to get a work visa for the U.S."

Alex shrugged. "I can get that done before we reach the airport. We'll start you on a student visa and transfer it over to a work visa." And then it wouldn't matter at all if his visas expired, because she'd have her new country.

"But I'm mid-semester." Lucas glanced around his room, obviously considering the possibilities.

Alex shrugged. "You said yourself that my picobots show an understanding of physics that is not being taught at any university. Apprentice to me."

He pushed his laptop closed, not bothering to turn it off. "Will you teach me how the battery works? "

Alex nodded, but what she said was, "I'll help you figure it out on your own."

Lucas' lower lip again bore the brunt of his daring, "May I ask you to give everyone here at the school one of your laptop batteries and give the school a couple of your appliance batteries?"

Somehow that question suddenly made Alex's spontaneous decision seem all right. Lucas wanted to apologize to his peers for leaving them behind. Alex put her own laptop back into her backpack. "Everyone has to sign the company purchase agreement. I'll also give them an appliance battery. I can't give any to the school. Our batteries only go to individuals."

Lucas nodded, flushed and somewhat dazed at the sudden restructuring of his life, but he stopped chewing on his lip.

On the flight back to the United States, Alex taught Lucas how to use the picobots to build things so he'd be able to set up his own lab at the desert facility with whatever testing equipment he might want. She gave him the formula for her new physics and then left him to dissect it. She pretended to sleep, but secretly, she used her picobots to observe him. Lucas truly seemed more interested in the physics than in disclosing her secrets. She certainly hoped Soaring Eagle was correct. Before they landed, she gave him a crash course in environmental hazards and Earth science that made him pale and quiet, and she shared the urgent timeline for her space station.

Milo met them at the airport with two limousines. "Welcome to Las Vegas, Lucas. Take the second car so you can relax from your trip on the drive to the facility," he instructed and then turned to Alex. "I have some things to go over with you."

Alex nodded and followed to their limousine. Milo took a paper from his briefcase when they were settled in. "At the top of the list, your editors are demanding the next set of books. There are three movie contracts sitting in your email for you to review. The family needs your personal birthday shopping list so things can be purchased before your birthday. You are invited to a dinner party at one of your lawyer's houses in Illinois on the 14th - a celebration of a full recovery of his daughter, apparently. Also, your house's air conditioning system has reached its end-of-life timeframe and needs to be replaced. Mario wants you to assassinate Rico. Corbin May has requested you go see him as soon as possible."

Alex's picobots still reported Lucas going over yet another attempt at rearranging her formula to understand it. "Milo, these are all things you could have just called me about. No need to fly all the way out here."

"I want you to sit up and pay attention."

There was something in Milo's tone that seemed off. Alex stopped watching Lucas and thought back to what he'd said. "Nice crack about Mario there. I'm sure he'd appreciate it."

"That took you way too long to notice," Milo reprimanded. "You've been distracted like this for several months."

"With good reason," Alex said without apology. Truthfully, she was still reeling, both from not having a massive picobot war to mitigate and from sharing her most dearly kept secret with a veritable stranger.

"Alex, even Brian has voiced his concern to me."

"He shouldn't be talking with you about me," Alex said, reaching for a bottle of water.

"He's worried. I'm worried. What's going on?" Milo asked, concern obvious in his voice.

"I've just been working on another physics problem," Alex answered honestly, if incompletely. "Lucas should be able to help me with that and I can get back to other things."

Milo sighed and looked back at the paper in his hand. "You are also due for your annual gynecological exam."

"No way am I doing that." Alex opened the water bottle and took a long drink.

"Also, the Caro family has invited both you and Mario to their family head's birthday party."

The son of the couple Alex had assassinated. Alex sighed.

Milo added, "Mario has politely declined and sent the boy a Corvette."

Alex rolled her eyes up and searched her memory. "He's only 14."

"Yeah. Mario commented that it would be a good torture-present and the kid might off himself driving illegally and dangerously. His family advisors will stop him though. They've been remarkably sensible."

Just then Alex became aware that the limousine still hadn't started moving from the tarmac yet and there were sirens in the distance that were getting louder.

"One other thing," Milo continued blandly, pausing for emphasis. "You are being arrested for tax evasion."

"I'm what?!" Alex yelped .

"Tax evasion. If you had answered any one of the urgent phone calls or emails or returned any of the urgent messages I left with your bodyguards, you'd have known not to come back to the States until Lu and I can get the case dismissed." Milo's unemotional recitation didn't change. "It's spearheaded by Cartwright-Jaxon Engineering under the table. You are entirely legal. I even offered to pay their bogus tax fines, but the judge they picked isn't going to do that. We'd get the money back anyway. The case will get thrown out, but I think Cartwright-Jaxon Engineering is going to take the opportunity to launch a smear campaign and a new legal assault on Green World."

Alex pulled out her phone and called Brian who answered immediately. "Hey, sorry I haven't been in touch. Milo tells me I'm about to be arrested."

Brian's deep voice answered, "Yes, we've discussed it at length. Our law team is ready for the fallout."

Alex frowned. "Launch our third product tomorrow. Switch all of our facilities to our own power and take them off-grid." The sirens were growing deafening. "I'll still be able to send emails. Assure Lucas that everything is ok and give him anything he needs."

"Who's Lucas?" Brian asked.

"Our new research and development recruit," Alex answered. "He's on his way to our desert facility right now."

"Milo thinks it won't take too long to get you out. I've got everything under control here. Take care of yourself, eh?" Brian said.

Alex hung up.

As if he'd never been interrupted, Milo said, "Cartwright-Jaxon Engineering was trying to get you thrown into general population, but Lu and I had you transferred to a white-collar location while you await trial."

Six police cars pulled up next to the limousine. How many vehicles did they need to arrest her, anyway? Alex nodded to Milo and pushed the limousine door open. She climbed out with both her hands in the air completely visible. At least she didn't have to wear the bulletproof vest anymore.

Some bright soul over at Cartwright-Jaxon Engineering pointed out her history of violence at a certain psychiatric institution and got her incarceration changed from Milo's chosen destination at the last moment. Because Alex was over 21 (22 by her declared birthday), a possible flight-risk with her own personal private jet, with the history of violence, the judge ruled that no bail would be allowed and she be put in a facility equipped to handle potential violence. Alex refused to unleash mafia terror on the judge and directed Milo to just present his case logically. The obviously bribed and corrupt judge ignored all of Milo's arguments and declared she'd wait for trial in prison .

After a whirlwind of processing, Alex found herself locked in the mandatory two day segregated drug-check cell before her incarceration in general population with the violent criminals. She'd been issued her orange pajamas, had the humiliating shower and contraband check, and her cellmate was obviously hallucinating. Luckily, the woman's psychotic manifestation was limited to talking to herself and screaming as opposed to anything dangerous. Alex merely set her picobots to filter out sound completely and lay in her bunk catching up on two months of emails and phone messages using her HUD that only she could see and hear and using her thighs as a keyboard.

In addition to the topics Milo had cited, Alex had three days of hourly emails from Milo that were accompanied by half-hour phone messages warning her to stay out of the country for a while. Messages from the Green World law team with urgent 'please help' attachments that were no longer valid. Messages from Brian needing feedback on company policy and expansion, as well as defunct time-critical funding requests. She prepared replies to things, but couldn't actually send them out until she supposedly had internet access again.

After the invasive check-in process, Alex didn't dare sleep for fear the nightmares would catch up to her. At least she felt completely safe with her bioshield. If she could avoid anyone discovering it, that would be good, but she wouldn't compromise her safety for the secret. She rearranged herself on the thin mattress on the awful solid-metal plate bed and kept scanning messages throughout the night and most of the next day. When she was finally caught up, she began punching in the next novel that was overdue. Eventually, she was too tired to stay awake and slept without dreaming.

She was woken up by a female guard shaking her. Alex turned off her sound-suppressors.

"Come on, Smith," the female guard ordered. "Time to go to your new home."

Alex rolled out of the bunk, allowed chains to be added, and followed the woman. Alex was handed bedding and taken to wait with another prisoner.

The guard shook her head at the other prisoner waiting. "Trisha, what the hell are you doin' back here again? Thought you were gone for good?"

"Broke parole. Didn't show up for work," the woman answered. She had ash brown hair that was slicked back and framed a sculpted face, with a thin nose and brown eyes under sparse eyebrows.

"Well, you two wait here." The guard went back over to the glass-windowed office slightly down the hall.

Trisha turned to Alex, "Luciano Marino sent me to show you the ropes and keep you out of trouble. You listen to me and do what I say and you'll be fine."

"Who are you?"

"Trisha Decanter. My mother was a Marino."

The name wasn't familiar to Alex. As she set her HUD to search out relevant information, Alex asked, "Did you violate your parole for me? "

"Yeah. It's no big deal. This is my turf. They're going to walk us through the cellblock, and people are going to catcall and spit, but don't flinch, and don't run. I've bribed the warden to throw us into the same cell. Keep your eyes straight ahead and don't stare at anyone."

Trisha's information was scrolling across Alex's vision. Trisha was indeed a Marino even though she wasn't close to the family. She'd been incarcerated for drug dealing and had been out on parole for almost nine months after serving 8 of her 10 year sentence. "Thank you, Trisha."

"Call me Dec and don't ever thank me again."

The guard came back, removed Alex's chains, and ushered them into the cellblock. The individual cells were open-barred, closet-size rooms with metal-plate bunk beds, a lidless metal toilet, and small sink. Prisoners stood at the bars, shouting at them. The walk was every bit as awful as Alex anticipated, but she did as Dec had instructed. No one dared spit on Dec, but several well aimed globs splattered Alex. Alex twitched and felt queasy, but didn't block them with her picobots. She and Dec were put into the same cell and the door lock clicked into place with an appalling finality.

Dec turned to her. "Top or bottom bunk? For prison seniority, I get top, but for family, whatever you want."

"You take the top."

Dec threw her stuff up on the bunk and swung herself up with practiced ease and proceeded to make her bed. Alex went over to the small sink and rinsed the spit off and had her picobots do a microscopic clean to get rid of any residual germs. She went over and made her bed too. "Now what?" she asked Dec.

"Eh? Now we do time. We have lunch in a few hours."

Alex went back to her novel typing, stopping every now and then to listen to the prison sounds. From some of the things she heard, she knew she was very lucky in her cell mate. This would not be a good place to be alone.

After a long time, Dec leaned over the side of the side of the bunk. "Where you sit at lunch today is critical. You can't come sit with my group until I have a chance to talk with them. Don't sit with anyone not white. That will get you beat up. I'll point out the safest person to sit with. Are you a lesbian?"

"No."

"Don't sit with them either then. After today, won't matter much, but this first choice will define you within the population and there is attention you don't want. Come on. It's time. After lunch is yard. Stay with the group from the lunch table until I come get you." A loud buzzer sounded and the cell door swung open. Alex wondered how Dec had known what time it was. Dec jumped off the bunk.

Prisoners were falling into a line outside their cells and moving toward the cafeteria. Alex blended into the ocean of orange. When they reached the cafeteria, Dec got into line behind Alex. Several people greeted Dec, who seemed to be respected and well-liked. About halfway to the food counter, Dec leaned forward and whispered, "Brunette getting corn, sit with her."

Alex nodded inconspicuously.

Alex got her food and walked toward the table where the indicated woman sat, but about halfway there, a tall black woman stepped into her way and blocked her path. The woman could easily have been a professional basketball player.

"Oh, creampuff, ain't you just som'in special. You come sit over next t'me. I'll protect ya."

A shorter, broader white girl came over. "You just leave her be, Shwanda. She ain't for you. This is Alex Smith, the one that did that battery. She's famous. She wants to sit with..." her eyes flicked up to something behind Alex.

Alex adjusted her HUD to give her a full view behind her. Dec had arrived.

The woman finished her sentence, "Whoever she wants to." Both women in her path moved away.

Alex didn't even turn around, but she definitely kept the rear-view on her HUD. She went onward to the table Dec had recommended, populated by white women. Dec went to her own table of apparent mixed race and sexual orientation. "May I join you?" Alex asked.

"Shit, bitch, you talk like that in here, you gonna get tore up," the woman with the brown hair said. She tilted her head toward the empty seat.

Alex set her tray down and took a seat. The mushy institution food looked pretty scary and she had a moment of time-vertigo realizing that at one point in her life, she would have considered this a feast. She set her picobots to converting the pesticides and harmful man-made compounds and sipped at the sugar-water masquerading as fruit juice.

"Ain't you the battery lady?" the woman with the brown hair asked.

"Yeah." Alex set her glass back on the table, vowing to only drink water for the duration of her incarceration.

"I seen you on TV, comin' ou' o' court," one of the other women confirmed.

The brunette pushed her food, separating the different kinds that were touching. Alex had seen Milo do the same on occasion. The brunette asked, "Ain't you rich?"

Alex pondered the huge mountain of bills that were waiting on her payment authorization that would drop her personal cash to practically nothing until her new books starting bringing in income. She was going to have to borrow from Sal's brother again to take care of the current bills for Green World unless the latest battery suddenly brought in a massive cash influx.

Reminded, she called up Green World's latest financial records. Even though it was very expensive, they had a steady backlog of orders for the third battery, which would provide enough power for a 4-bedroom house. Green World's finances were covered, at least until she could get out and spend it on habitat building. She saw Brian was already approving the backlog of funding requests. She realized the brunette was still waiting for an answer, and said, "Yeah, I'm rich."

The brunette tore off part of her bread that had touched the gravy and set it aside. "Whatcha doing in here then? They put rich people in deluxe resort prisons."

"I thought this was the deluxe-est resort prison?" Alex countered.

Her table-mates laughed.

"Rachelle," the brunette offered. "What are you in for?"

Alex introduced herself and pondered her replies. Rumors and conjecture? Revenge? Corporate sabotage? Failing to read email and listen to phone messages? "Taxes," she said finally.

"So you steal from us?" Rachelle's voice reflected humor, but had an underlying disgust.

Alex shook her head. "Naw. All my taxes are paid and everything is entirely legal."

"Ain't we all innocent?" one of the other women cackled.

There was more laughter.

"Cupcake, you better adjust. You're just like the rest of us," Rachelle advised.

"Oh, I am. I'm just not guilty of tax evasion." Alex didn't want them thinking she was an easy target. "I only look like a princess." Comparatively, she was sure she did, too. She had an expensive haircut, if overdue for a cut, manicured, nail-polish free nails that were also overdue, clear, healthy skin from a vitamin and mineral rich diet and exercise. All of these were things only people with money and leisure time could afford. Not that she had much leisure time, but she had the appearance of it.

Overall, they looked like they didn't believe her, but she couldn't expect them to. Alex poked at her food and tried it. She'd surely been spoiled. The child that dug through trash cans for anything vaguely edible was also apparently long gone. She ate anyway.

"You smart?" the woman across from Alex asked.

"Sometimes," Alex answered. Pointing out that she was degreed as well as a lawyer was probably not the best idea. The news stating the owner of Green World represented herself in court did not necessarily mean she was a lawyer. She could see her entire day being spent answering legal questions.

"So you read a lot?" The brunette chewed on the uncontaminated-by-other-food bread.

"I used to hang out in libraries sometimes." Alex reflected that the understatements might catch up to her eventually.

"We just got a bunch of new books added to our library. They'll bring a rack by your cell and let you check them out." The conversation turned to the latest library additions and when that was exhausted, Alex asked them pointed questions about how things operated. They were pleased to be experts and expanded nicely.

After lunch, Alex followed her table-mates to the prison yard - a cement, plant-less, walled courtyard with basketball courts, tables, gym equipment, and a single unused faded hopscotch board. As they entered into the yard, the prisoners bunched up slightly as they entered the open area. Alex didn't even realize what was happening until it was too late to make a difference. She was surrounded, cut off from Dec's recommended protection with the efficiency of a wolf pack picking off its prey. She dodged the only direction available and into a waiting ambush.

Alex was shoved, toppled to the ground, and violently kicked. The bioshield prevented her from actually being hurt, but she curled up anyway, reflexively. Hard-toed shoes kicked and stamped. Just as Alex was realizing she needed to get up and fight back, her bioshield stopped a knife blade embedded in someone's shoe. The weapon would have instantly killed her and been easily discarded or hidden away before any response could have been initiated by the prison guards. Instead of dying, Alex found and grabbed the foot and pulled, twisting, ripping the shoe off its owner's foot.

The animal in Alex that hunted in the forest and defended her on the streets took over, combined with the training she'd gotten under Sal's guidance. Alex grabbed the other foot and severed the woman's Achilles tendon. Three of Alex's assailants were down before they even knew she was moving. Alex dropped the shoe and launched herself up. She kicked another woman backwards into the pack of women hard enough to knock several over. Ribs cracked under her foot.

Dec and her crew arrived, elbowing in, clearing out around Alex, as the prison alarm sounded and the guards fired warning shots. Prisoners dropped to the ground, hands over their heads. Dec pulled Alex down and lay over top of her chest and head, protecting her from any possible stray gunfire.

Alex lay there, gasping heavily, trying to will her adrenaline to back off. Her enemies weren't going after her company. They were going for something more direct. She should have seen it coming. Predicted it. Not too far away, the four women Alex had cut were screaming. Alex blocked the sound with her picobots.

Guards flooded the courtyard. Finally regaining control of herself, Alex set her picobots to destroying her fingerprints on the bladed shoe and then to erasing the security footage inside the prison for the last hour with a simple computer virus. Hopefully no camera had captured her bioshield's protection, but she couldn't take the time to find out for sure.

Dec was pulled up by one of the guards and then Alex was too. The guard asked if they were injured and they said no. They were escorted along with the other now mild-mannered prisoners back to their cells and locked in.

As soon as the guards were out of earshot, Dec grabbed Alex's shoulders with both her hands. "Are you ok?"

"A few bruises. Nothing major damaged." Alex thought about creating bruises on herself, but decided to postpone it until group shower time, when she could decide if she wanted bruises or the illusion of bruises.

"Lu said there was a hit out on you," Dec informed her. "I didn't expect it so soon."

Alex grit her teeth in frustration. "It had to be fast. I'm certain Milo and Lu are working on getting me transferred. You should have told me. This is the first time I haven't been surrounded by bodyguards in a really long time. I forgot to be careful."

"I'm so sorry." Dec let go of Alex's shoulders and slumped back against the bunk.

Alex winced. This woman had just thrown herself across Alex to protect her. Dec didn't need to be lectured; she needed praise. "No, no, no. My fault. Not yours. I should have known it was coming and taken more precautions. I should have dodged through the first group of people instead of going the direction they were herding me. It would have been much worse if you hadn't come to my rescue."

Dec shook her head. "What happened?"

Alex quickly scanned back through her memory. She'd been on her feet again before Dec and her crew arrived. "Just a simple attempt at beating me up. I have some martial arts training." She was really good at down-playing her abilities. "I'm not going to be that easy to take out."

"There was a blade in the mix. People were cut. You could have easily been killed."

Too true. She'd definitely be dead if she didn't have her bioshield. So reminded, Alex spawned one off and attached it to Dec. It was the least she could do for someone willing to die for her. "Will the inmates talk to the guards?"

"No way. And you shouldn't either. Not a word. If they ask about the bruises, you say you fell out of your bunk. That's the standard code for 'not going to tell you anything'. The yard security cameras will have been blocked not to show anything. Everyone knows where the blind spots are. They won't find the blade, even, but there are a lot of blades in circulation so even if that one got confiscated, it still wouldn't be enough to protect you."

"It's ok. Now that I'm aware of the threat, I'll take precautions. Thank you for protecting me, Dec."

"You're family. Don't thank me. I'm worthless, low-life scum. I hurt people. I use 'em. I'm the kind of person hell was made for. You, though." Dec inhaled. "You are a precious innocent, a treasure to humanity. If there's anyone on this planet worth saving, it's you. Maybe if I die saving you, maybe God will forgive me and let me into heaven."

"I'm not an innocent, Dec. I'm family. Salvatore Marino would never have given the family over to an innocent. And you are not worthless, low-life scum. I've met those kind of people. They don't feel guilt. You and I are the same. We do what's necessary."

Alex continued to speak with Dec, listening and building Dec's self-confidence and self-esteem. It was the most intense therapy session Alex had ever performed. They both sat on Alex's lower bunk, whispering to keep their voices from carrying. Alex told Dec that outside of the prison, Dec would have a position at Green World where no one would ever treat her like scum and no one ever need know she'd done prison time. Alex built a vision of a normal life for Dec and gave her hope.

Several hours later, when Alex judged that she'd done as much as she could possibly do for a while, Alex changed the topic. "How did you know when it was lunch time earlier?"

"S'easy. When you spend 7 years, 9 months in here, you just know these things."

"Well, that's certainly not a skill I want then!" Alex grinned at her. "I'm going to lay down for a little bit, I think. I'm tired."

"Oh! I'm sorry! I should have realized you'd need some rest. Are you sure you are all right?"

"I'm sure. If I can't thank you, you can't apologize to me." Alex stuck her tongue out at Dec, who had jumped up from Alex's bunk as if burned.

Dec rolled her eyes and shook her head in relieved amusement and climbed into her own bunk.

Alex opened her email, determined never to miss anything again. The newest email from Milo made her blood run cold. She wanted to scream, demanding to be let out. The attack on her was only one quarter of the plan. Without the SEL, Green World wouldn't exist anymore.

The full SEL enclosure with a gated security checkpoint prevented the kamikaze bomb from getting inside the desert facility. The experienced security guard on duty with amazing observation and reflexes sensed something wrong with the man in the vehicle, and ran back inside his office and punched the button to close down the SEL door. The explosion ricocheted off the SEL wall away from the Indian preserve, leaving a black scorch mark seared across the uninhabited desert.

The other two facilities weren't so lucky. About a third of her Pacific island was blown up by the ship that routinely brought in supplies with the simple expediency of slipping the bomb into the stack of supply packages and remote detonating it. Ten people died and it would have been worse if the ship hadn't docked at their newest pier. None of the boats at the pier could be salvaged. The island, held in place by SEL pylons reaching to the ocean floor, didn't destabilize and capsize, although it certainly would have if it weren't attached. Competitors and governments were now aware their "clean-up barge" was a full, stable island.

The worst attack was in Atlanta. Realizing they couldn't attack the facility directly, they put the bomb in the restaurant building adjacent to Green World's headquarters. The SEL enclosing her building's wall reflected the explosion through the city block. Emergency workers were still on site.

Alex rolled over on her side, facing the wall, and set her picobots to create a full sound-shield around her and called Lucas. When he answered his new cell phone, she spoke briskly in Spanish, "Hey, Lucas, it's Alex."

"Did you get arrested? There were rumors when I went to lunch." Lucas' heavily accented voice sounded surprisingly chipper.

"You haven't left your lab lately, I guess?" Alex shifted on the uncomfortable mattress.

Lucas continued excitedly, "I've been setting up. Your CEO has given me unlimited funding. He told me to send the shopping list to purchasing. I'm just about done getting the list together. Most everything basic I've had the picobots building." He switched his phone to video mode and panned the camera around the underground space. It was unnervingly similar to Alex's lab.

"Um, Lucas." Alex had a hard time interrupting his enthusiastic description. "I'm glad you're settling in nicely, but I need you to do something."

"Hmmm?" He turned his cell phone around so his face was in the video and then switched off the video feed.

"Take your laptop and whatever you need and go explain to Brian, er, the CEO, about picobots and how they work. Only him though. There's been some explosions. I want you on a plane out to Atlanta with him. Program those picobots to find people in the wreckage and help the rescue workers. Don't tell anyone about the picobots. Pretend to use some high-tech scanning equipment."

Alex heard Lucas inhale sharply. She continued, "I'm altering the security to let you go directly up to Brian in the executive elevator. I need you to go immediately. He's likely to be headed to Atlanta any minute. If he's already left, just follow. Um. I'll dump some money into your bank account to cover expenses. I'm also going to surround you with a picobot shield. Don't mess with it. It'll keep any random bullets from hurting you. I can't be there so I need you to be me." When he didn't say anything, Alex asked, "Lucas, are you still there? "

"Yes, I'm here. I'm not a fast programmer." He sounded distressed. Probably biting his lower lip, Alex thought.

Alex needed his confidence. "You can do it. You got into Instituto Balseiro. Only the best can do that." She heard his inhale, so she added, "Keep the altered picobots localized to Atlanta. You won't be able to call me back. I'll have to call you when I can. Oh, and tell Brian to tell Milo I do not want to be transferred. Lucas, I need you to go right now. People's lives depend on it."

"I'm already in the elevator." Lucas had either crossed the campus to the main building fairly fast or Lucas had built his lab too close to the main building.

"Thank you, Lucas." Alex hung up, transferred enough money into Lucas's account for first class plane tickets, hotel expenses, and food. She killed her soundproofing. She thought she might go crazy. "Hey, Dec? When can we get internet access?"

"They rotate us through, once a week. We'll get a chance in six days if we don't get any penalty points."

Alex would be a raving lunatic by then. She avidly watched the news feeds on her HUD, growing more upset and distressed as the hours ticked away. She opted for strategically placed real bruises that looked ghastly, but didn't hurt at all or impair her movement, merely because then she wouldn't have to pay attention and slowly heal simulated bruises.

Dinner was luckily uneventful. Alex, feeling extremely wired and tense, joined Dec at her table. Rachelle noted this position change with narrowed eyes, but didn't dare comment. Alex was glad because given her mood, Alex would have been happy to thrash someone.

The next day, the guards monitoring the showers noted her bruises. The interview with the investigation team went as expected, with a lot of "You need to tell us what happened in the yard." accompanied by bribes, threats, and emotional pleas. Alex repeated that she saw nothing at all in the yard as there were too many prisoners in the way and she got the bruises falling out of her bunk trying to get to the toilet in the night.

Alex spent all of the time in her bunk alternating between obsessively watching news coverage of Atlanta on her HUD and trying to find out how she missed the incoming attacks. The responsible parties must have met somewhere out in the ocean where her picobots didn't reach, with no indication at all on land that something was going to happen. She set her picobots to reproducing and spreading. In another four months, she could have them covering the Earth, although distribution would be incredibly sparse.

Any discussions related to the bombings were automatically flagged by Alex's picobots. That's how she caught the meeting between Mario and Kuro Hamasaki. Alex was powerless to do anything about their decisions. The resulting violence and devastation made her want to weep. Casualties, both guilty and innocent, piled up. She felt herself sliding into an unrelenting depression. How could her planned country survive with this much violence so casual in society?

Hopelessness infiltrated Alex's every waking thought. Watching the news and following the escalating warfare only made it worse. She decided that she didn't want to know what was being done on her behalf anymore. She couldn't change it and all it did was upset her. Milo's provided summaries would have to be enough, for her own sanity. Alex went back to typing out novels, although the plots turned bleak and scary, reflecting her sour mood. Maybe one day, historians would refer to this as her artistic 'dark period'?

On the 6th day of her incarceration, Alex got one hour of computer time in the heavily monitored lab. She opened her email, encrypted to the screen, and "approved" all of the pending messages waiting for her "review", without even bothering to open them so prying eyes wouldn't have anything to read. Maybe the watching guards and F.B.I. would think someone else was actually running Green World and she was just a decoy. Her publishers would be very happy.

On the 13th day, Milo came to visit her as her lawyer. They met in a sterile metal room that had an ugly flat metal table with equally ugly flat, metal chairs that proved even more uncomfortable than they looked. A shiny black security camera in the upper corner would record the entire room.

"How are you holding out?" Milo asked, setting his stack of papers on the cold metal table and taking the chair opposite Alex.

Alex tried for flippantly light, despite her foul mood. "I was due for a vacation."

Milo squinted at her. "The guards tell me you have bruises."

Alex lifted the side of her shirt and showed him the mottled purple on her ribcage. "I fell out of my bunk on the way to the toilet one night. No big deal. Dec helped me stand back up."

Milo's hand, resting on the table, clenched and unclenched again and he looked vaguely like he wanted to throttle her. He knew the bioshield would have protected her from anything. Instead, he said, "I like your Lucas. He's been very helpful. He's so very earnest, though, and I don't understand half of what he says." Milo frowned. "He told me about your first conversation. You hired him anyway?"

Alex quirked a half-smile and shrugged. Given his reproachful tone, Milo was definitely referring to Lucas threatening her. "I thought he would fit in really well with the family," Alex said.

"Well, he's certainly been informative." The "more informative than you" was clearly stated in Milo's tightened eyebrows and penetrating stare.

"He tells you things?" Alex was going to have to speak with Lucas about who he talked to .

"He tells Brian. Brian tells me." Milo seemed somewhat cheered at having vexed Alex as much as she did him. "And I have a message for you. Lucas says that thing you wanted him to create is finished and just needs to be tested on a more accurate scale."

Gravity! YES! Alex did smile then, feeling as if a horrible weight had been suddenly lifted from her chest. Maybe, just maybe, humanity had a chance. "Excellent!"

"Now, to business." Milo tapped the stack of staple-free papers he'd brought in with him. "Read." He slid them over to her, spinning them until the words faced her.

The United States government was offering her a transfer to a lower security prison in exchange for the secret to the battery. She scoffed and turned the page. That had only been the first offer. She went through the next ten pages, all offers with increasing benefits. There was an exemption from owed taxes which she didn't owe. There was lawsuit case dismissal. There was a relocation into the witness protection program. The last page made her grin. It was a paper menu for a nearby deli, printed on standard printer paper without pictures, but with an informative ketchup smear and grease stain. "I might accept this last one," Alex said with a smirk.

"Huh?" Milo got his glasses out of his pocket and looked at the page she handed back to him. "Oh!" He laughed. "I must have accidentally taken it when I was going through these."

She grinned. "Not a subliminal hint that I should consider one of these so I can get a real meal again?" Alex bet even now the Federal cryptographers were busy trying to decipher it. It's the ketchup smear, guys! The message is embedded in the angles and thickness.

"Sadly, no." Milo glanced up toward the glass-windowed door as someone passed by and then said, "The judge is stalling. He's moved your trial to December. I expect it will get postponed again due to people going on vacation; it's a coordinated delay tactic. You're looking at a full year before you can even get the start of a trial."

"You need to get Dec out then. Doesn't need to be here. I want her given a job over at Green World, whatever she wants that she's qualified for. Make sure she has enough startup cash for a wardrobe and household supplies. Take the money from my personal accounts," Alex instructed.

"The Feds have frozen your assets while the case is pending," Milo replied without inflection.

Alex cringed. "Get it from Mario then." Sal's brother had justifiably cut Alex off from the Marino family funds, which were still depleted from Green World's use, but Milo would know to tap her overseas accounts that were sheltered under token foreign companies.

Milo nodded. "I funded your prison commissary for the next year on my way in. "

Alex certainly hoped it wouldn't take a full year for Milo and Lu to sort out her case. "Thank you. How is Green World doing?"

Milo took the scattered papers from in front of Alex and neatly stacked them again as he answered. "Brian is delighted that the company balance sheet is showing growth now that you aren't around to spend the profit. The company is taking care of all expenses for the victims of the bombings and their families. It's also rebuilding and repairing damage."

"Good." Money certainly wouldn't replace the people lost, but at least the financial burdens would be less.

Milo added blandly, but with a sparkle in his eyes, "Brian says that the company will be stable if you would be so kind as to stay incarcerated at least another four months."

Alex laughed so hard her eyes watered. Milo joined her. When they stopped laughing, they looked at each other without saying anything for a few minutes. Finally, Alex nodded. "It's good to see you, Milo."

"Same. Do you need anything other than the obvious?"

"Naw." Anything Alex really wanted to say was not for the prison security footage and F.B.I. analysis teams. Besides, she could email or call him when she got back to her cell if she had any urgent requirement.

"Be safe." Milo stood and departed with his stack of papers. Alex was escorted back to her cell, where she resumed typing out the latest novel. Gravity. She had gravity!

Over the next month, Alex ignored the prison dynamics. She was always escorted by Dec or one of Dec's minions. Dec's crew kept people away from her. Rachelle's group stayed neutral while the rest of Dec's group engaged in petty retaliations. Alex paid for this support with commissary items.

Alex also had an odd buffer from people who had been at ground-zero of her attack and knew how much of a beating she'd actually taken. Alex was unnervingly spry for someone who'd been so viciously attacked. They'd seen her resulting bruises and knew these couldn't possibly match, but lacking any way of knowing how it could possibly be otherwise, they had to assume they'd failed. They were giving her a wide berth while waiting for their leader to return. That woman was undergoing operations for her severed Achilles tendon and wouldn't be back for a long while.

Alex lacked any hint of fear or intimidation and her attitude was noticed. Sometimes her distraction as she thought out new novels came across as boredom and rude detachment. The prison population seemed to be falling into two hostile camps, either against Alex or for her. Alex refused to engage, but she wondered how long that was going to be possible. Alex needed to avoid anything that would aggravate her sentence, but the cost of that innocence was paid by the other inmates who were defending her. She decided that when she got out, she would fund commissaries for those who helped her. It was the best she could do.

"Smith, come with me. The warden wants to see you." The guard might have ordered dinner in a loud restaurant with the same volume and tone.

"Yes, ma'am." Alex allowed the barbell she'd been lifting to lower back into place under Dec's watchful eye. Alex stood and followed the guard, while Dec's crew escorted them to the yard's exit. Alex nodded to Dec and continued into the prison interior where they could not follow. Two weeks had passed since Milo's visit and Dec was scheduled to be released on parole in a couple of days. The tension among the inmates was volatile; it only needed a match to set off a full scale riot. Alex hoped it would hold off at least until Dec was safely out.

Alex instructed her picobots to show around corners and into adjacent rooms as they moved through the hallways, but she arrived at the warden's office without incident. The guard led Alex in and closed the door, waiting outside.

The warden's office was fairly large, but simply furnished with a desk with three chairs in front of it, a small round table with four chairs, a bookshelf, and a double window overlooking the prison yard. The warden herself was older, nearly retirement age, and almost as gruff and hardened as the prisoners themselves. She pointed at the chairs in front of the desk. "Miss Smith, please have a seat."

Alex did as asked, waiting curiously for the warden to speak. The "Miss" was unexpected.

The warden tapped her fingers on her desk and leaned back in her chair. "What happened to you the first day you were here? In the yard."

"Nothing, ma'am. I fell out of my bunk later that night." Alex kept her voice neutral, waiting to see what direction the warden would take the conversation.

The warden's eyes narrowed but she didn't press for answers. "I work very hard to keep this prison safe for our inmates, but we are perpetually underfunded and understaffed. I argued against your placement here, but I was overruled. I then argued for solitary confinement, but that was also overruled." The warden stood up and went to her window to look out. "Decanter seems to have stepped up to provide the additional security I could not. I'm glad I bunked you with her."

Alex waited silently; she didn't envy the warden's position. Prisoner-law outweighed prison-law due to the increased consequences both for herself as well as those around her. Alex couldn't help the warden.

The warden sighed in resignation and returned to her desk. "I'm moving Decanter into protective custody until her release on Tuesday. She's being transferred as we speak. Honestly, I was surprised when she broke parole. I really thought she might make it." The warden inhaled and continued, "I know she's going to work for you at Green World, but don't just cut her free. She needs the support network our parole system is equipped to provide. It's tough for long-time inmates to adjust to being outside."

Why was the warden telling her this? Alex commanded herself not to fidget. "We have a counselor on staff that she can meet with. He doesn't specialize in criminal rehabilitation, but he's a good guy."

The warden nodded and then announced, "You're being released. The case against you has been dropped." She pushed a button on her desk and the guard came back in. "Your lawyers are waiting for you in Processing."

Alex blinked. "Really?" she choked in surprise.

"Good luck, Miss Smith. Don't come back."

Stunned at the suddenness of change, Alex followed the guard through the hallways in a daze, again setting her picobots to check corners and adjacent rooms. The guard took her to a side room, gave Alex a box with the clothes she'd been wearing on her flight back from Argentina, and waited outside for her to change. When Alex peeked out, the guard handed her a clear plastic bag with toiletries from her cell, and took her to a waiting room where both Milo and Luciano sat.

The Marino lawyers stood when Alex entered and without a word, Alex followed them outside where a limousine was waiting with two of her bodyguards.

When all of them were safely inside the limousine, Luciano said, "Next time, you let us handle it our way to begin with."

"Take me to the desert facility," Alex said, leaning back in the limousine. It was a toss-up for which she wanted more - a private shower or edible vegetables.

"No," Milo replied.

Luciano added, "Mario wants to speak with you directly. No overnight stops. We're to go straight to him."

Alex sighed in resignation. "Ok. How'd the case get dropped?"

Milo looked out the window and Lu answered her. "Cartwright-Jaxon Engineering has declared bankruptcy and has closed down. The Cartwright's have been exiled to Brazil while the Jaxon's have relocated to Russia. They will not be leaving their respective countries for a while. There were a few unexplained deaths."

Milo, still not meeting her eyes, clarified, "Your classmate was not touched. He's fine."

Lu didn't wait for Milo to finish talking. "The Jaxons now have standing arrest warrants for tax evasion themselves, which is why they chose Russia - no extradition treaty there. The other companies that were backing them have also been dissolved. The judge who ordered you into general population was in a freak car accident and is dead. He was riding with the lead lawyer against your case, who remains in a coma. A certain psychiatric doctor has been arrested for forging medical records that declared you violent. He'll do prison time."

Alex tried not to wince and failed.

Lu rolled his eyes at her. "It's a family matter. They can't attack our matriarch and expect to get away with it."

Alex inclined her head in acquiescence to this. "What about the bombings?"

Milo seemed content to let Luciano do all the talking. "The oil cartels were responsible. The Hamasaki family is taking care of it."

Alex nodded. "What's the cost on that?"

Lu said, "You will provide 50 of your bioshield rings to Kuro Hamasaki at your earliest convenience."

"Is he waiting on payment or is he already taking care of things?" Alex supposed this was destined to happen eventually anyway.

"He did not wait, but your CEO has not given him any of the newest batteries to sell yet." Lu's reply still indicated that he felt Green World was separate from the Marino family.

Alex didn't even try to hide her wince. "Phone?"

Milo took his from his pocket and tossed it to her and went back to watching the landscape go by.

Alex dialed Brian. "Hey, I'm out," she said cheerfully into the phone.

Hearing Brian's voice was a welcome thing. "Great! I have a huge backlog of changes I want to discuss with you. We can go over it when you get here."

"I'm on my way to Atlanta first," Alex informed him. "Look, I need you to put all local orders for the household battery on hold and send the remaining stock to Hamasaki Corporation with a very politely worded formal apology. Assure Mr. Hamasaki that more will be en route as soon as they are available."

"We couldn't send him anything while you were unavailable to make more. We're almost completely out already. You need to delegate that production. Our entire business has a single point of failure."

"Right. I'll see what I can do." Alex disconnected. As Milo was still steadfastly gazing out his window, Alex looked back over to Luciano. "What else do I need to know?"

Milo replied softly, "Corbin May died. Passed away in his sleep just over a week ago. No foul play."

Alex closed her eyes for a moment, trying to calm the sudden whirlwind in her heart. The Indian had to have been over a hundred years old. What was it he had wanted to talk with her about? "Did he leave any message for me?"

"Not with any of us." Milo still wasn't making eye contact.

Alex pondered getting an alcoholic drink from the limousine's stash. " Please tell me Brian at least went to the funeral."

Milo answered, "He did. I also went on your behalf."

"Thank you, Milo." At least they hadn't managed to completely insult their Indian hosts. What impact would Soaring Eagle's death have on their desert complex?

"I extended your condolences, but the general attitude is very much against Green World and yourself. You might want to do some damage control there," Milo elaborated.

Alex took a fruit juice from the limousine's small refrigerator and drank it. "We're a city next to their once peaceful town. Short of packing up and leaving, I don't think there's too much damage control I can do."

Milo rubbed at his neck and commented indifferently, "Lucas seems to think you are building a space station."

"Lucas needs to stop telling people things," growled Alex. She really needed to have a talk with that young man.

"Are you?" Milo stared right at her then.

Alex answered truthfully, "Yes. I'm going to lift the entire desert complex into space as soon as I'm sure the technology works."

Luciano's eyes got wide and his mouth dropped open.

Milo elbowed Luciano and said, "Told you. You owe me $100."

"Ah, it's good to be out," Alex said. She leaned back and closed her eyes. "Wake me when we get to a bathroom."

Sal's brother's office at the restaurant was exactly as Alex remembered it, except it felt smaller. It was hard to remember that she once felt afraid entering this room. Mario himself was seated behind his desk, writing on some papers. He glared at her as he raised his eyes.

Mario waited for her to sit down before starting. "Your CEO has not sent me or anyone else in the family one of the new batteries. Family first. He turned down employment of Gil Marino, whom I personally sent over. He has also insulted Mr. Hamasaki."

Alex normally handled all of these things without Brian even being aware of them. "Sorry, Mario, I'll take care of it." She bet Brian hadn't even known Gil Marino applied. HR handled that sort of thing and she always flagged any applicant that needed to be an automatic hire.

"It should never have happened in the first place." Mario leaned back in his chair and rested his hands on his hips.

Given how often Mario spoke with added hand gestures, Alex could tell he was really pissed by that simple non-gesture. Brian was lucky Mario hadn't sent a physical reminder of his duties to the family. "He didn't know."

"Make it clear this is not to happen again," Mario directed .

Alex nodded. "Of course." The farther apart she could keep Mario and Brian, the better.

Mario sat up again. "I have promised Kuro Hamasaki more of your bioshield rings."

Again, Alex nodded. "Luciano told me on the way here. I will personally deliver them before the end of the week." Her requirement at this meeting was to simply say, "Yes, Mario." to anything he demanded. Brian had insulted both the family and Hamasaki Corporation. One simply does not insult fund-providers, not to mention the small detail of how those two families also do business.

"The other families have been laughing at us. In the future, you will allow Luciano and Milo to do their jobs." Mario emphasized this by pointing at her sternly with his index finger.

"Sorry, Mario. I thought it would resolve better," Alex answered. "The law is on my side. I'm entirely legal."

Mario grunted. "Naive. Not at our level." He rubbed his eyebrow as if pushing away a headache. "So what's this I hear about a space station?"

"Good grief. Is it published on a billboard somewhere?" Alex had to remind herself to keep her voice subservient. Mario did not need to be any more aggravated than he already was.

"So it's true?"

"Yes, but it has to remain secret," Alex said, somewhat desperately. "How many people know?"

"Just Milo, Luciano, and me. And anyone else you've told."

Alex exhaled in relief. "Keep it that way."

For the next hour, Mario caught her up on the family business; she had missed almost a full ten months of family meetings. When they were through, Alex went straight to her lab and spent the evening creating more batteries. Brian was correct; she was going to need this process automated.

While waiting on the picobots to build pallets, she worked on creating a robot to cart filled pallets up to storage, and wondered why she hadn't done so previously. She hoped her long term strategies didn’t have equally glaring mistakes. She issued her robot an employee badge to operate the elevator, programmed it to avoid personnel, had it locate and fill empty storage spots, and generally instructed it to keep inventory at fifty to seventy-five percent capacity. She also set up a way to check on it and control it remotely. When that was done, she created the 50 bioshield rings for Hamasaki as well as another 50 for Mario to distribute.

After that, Alex called Milo who answered with, "Do you know what time it is? For crying out loud, Alex." He sounded particularly tired and grumpy.

"I need a flight to Tokyo in the morning," Alex said brightly. "Hamasaki Corporation."

"I should have left you in prison," Milo muttered and hung up .

Alex grinned. She saw her robot was trying to take the pallet too soon and spent some time debugging the program. It took two full cycles through to make sure it was working correctly. Her brain was foggy from lack of sleep and she was suddenly aware of a gnawing hunger and a lack of food.

Alex let herself into the company kitchen, noting that the first employees wouldn't arrive for another half an hour, and made herself a plate of real food. The cafeteria tables were too "institutional" for her peace of mind so she took the plate back down to her lab to eat. Just as she was finishing off another novel, Milo called back to tell her they had flight clearance for 8 a.m. and he was on his way over with the limousine to pick her up.

When Alex climbed into the limousine, Milo peered at her and observed, "Aren't those the same clothes you came back from Argentina in?"

Alex yawned. "Yeah, better have someone at the other end have a wardrobe ready for me."

"Hah. You think I'm an amateur?" Milo's carry-on was sitting on the seat next to him.

"Of course not." Alex rearranged her HUD and started working through emails, trusting Milo had taken care of everything. Her trust was not unfounded. Not only had he prepared a suitcase for her, he'd arranged full bathing and sleeping facilities on a specially rented airplane. He had also hired two beauticians, a massage therapist, a dental hygienist, dentist, and a vegan chef for the flight over.

With family duties handled and Mr. Hamasaki appeased with everything promised as well as a personal apology in the form of a "prototype" battery that would power his entire corporate headquarters building, Alex could finally turn her attention toward Green World. When Alex arrived at the desert facility, the first thing she noticed, and it would have been impossible to miss, was the new huge building taking up a very large part of her precious real estate. Alex asked the gate guard what it was.

The guard continued diligently sweeping through her limousine for threats as he answered, "That's the new stadium, Miss. We have our own soccer and football teams now. There's job postings up for rugby and field hockey. My wife and I went to a game last night." He proceeded to tell her how fantastic the game was while Alex tried to figure out how she was going to make her carefully planned ecosystem to survive using less space.

The guard cleared the limousine and Alex's driver entered the dome and proceeded toward Brian's office. Some things were as she remembered. The original buildings had lovely Earth-clay SEL stonework with rounded corners and modern angled edges while residential buildings were painted white with bright, decorative patterns. Rocks and cacti provided natural landscaping. The complex was supposed to fit into the desert as if it had grown up from the Earth.

Now, however, walking paths had white covers to provide shade and the enclosed stadium, while architecturally interesting, was modern in design. The residential buildings had expanded upward according to plan and were now too tall to be natural. The first massive greenhouse was already in place and Alex's additional ecosystems would also detract from the native ambience. Almost everything had been converted to easily reconfigurable SEL.

Brian's secretary announced her and Alex went in. His office here was much less showy than the one she'd set up in Atlanta. It was smaller, more functional, with several large computer screens. His window overlooked the large garden that flourished in the campus' SEL enclosure. He had his window open so fresh air could come in. The last time she'd been in his office, the window wasn't even openable.

Alex went over to the window and peered out. The main residential building across from the cacti garden dominated the view, reaching up its full twenty-five floors. The aerial play area was only partially visible, but people were out in the visible part of the fort-maze. She was pleased the slides and rope courses drew people in despite the height.

Brian got up and moved to stand next to her. He said, "Lucas changed the window for me. I really like that young man. I don't understand what he's talking about when he gets going about math, but he's been wonderful. You should have seen him in Atlanta. He saved people we never would have found in time."

"I'm glad," Alex went over to his drink counter and poured herself some water from the specially installed fountain. "How are you holding up?"

"Well, your arrest and the bombings have everyone worked up, but I've added more counselors and keep assuring people that you are innocent and we've heightened security substantially. The company itself is doing great financially. I have reports for you." They went back over to his desk and Brian went through everything she'd missed over the last few months.

"I notice how carefully these reports avoid using the word 'stadium'," Alex commented dryly.

Brian grinned. "Lucas wanted it and you did say to give him everything he asked for."

"I said everything he needs, Brian. We needed that space for ecosystems."

"It's been great for morale," Brian informed her. "Corporate culture and morale are an ecosystem as much as your plants and animals and dirt."

"Well, I can't argue that." Alex drank some of her water. "I shipped you specs for another three greenhouses." Greenhouses were an understatement. They were fully sustainable SEL-enclosed environments - a tall-grass prairie matching central Argentina, a tropical rainforest like that of the Amazon basin, and a montane rainforest mimicking Reserva Biológica Bosque Nuboso Monteverde in Costa Rica. The cost to import plants and species with the required permits, authorizations, and donations would be astronomical. These would match the already installed habitat that mimicked the Chattahoochee National Forest.

"I didn't get them?" Brian pulled up his email and they were there, unread. "You sent these as you came into the building!"

"And you haven't approved them yet?" Alex teased.

Brian was scanning down the plans. "Alex, this drains off all of our money," he complained. "It drops us back to nothing again."

"Yup. Money is pretty pointless. Our habitat is critical."

"Where are we supposed to put these?" Brian rubbed at his neck.

"Well, I was planning on using that space where that stadium is. We were going to have to stack them anyway, I suppose." Alex moved back over to his window. The slight breeze coming in was artificially generated, but the temperature was being maintained by the dome and was only slightly on the warm side. The cooler temperature in the room was maintained by an unobtrusive, silent cooling plate near the ceiling.

"Your Indians are going to love that."

They weren't HER Indians. "Yeah. I don't suppose Soaring Eagle gave you a message for me?" Alex went and sat down in one of his comfortable leather chairs.

"No. His son has sent several messages demanding you meet with him, though. He wants you to put a limit on the height of our buildings. If you put these on top of our forest, which people like hiking in, by the way, the height is going to be appalling. "

"World's largest indoor ecosystems. With the world's most enthusiastic and knowledgeable biologists." Alex smiled and opened her hands as if she were conducting a magical orchestra on a single beat.

Brian tapped his fingers on his desk, thinking. "I suppose we can offset some of the cost with tourism..."

"They aren't going to be ready for tourists for a bit. The trees take time to grow, even if we do bring in ones that are fairly large." Alex watched him reading the documents for a moment and then added, "Oh, we also need to double the size of our farm fields and it's time to increase the size of our ocean island."

"Couldn't you have stayed in prison for a while longer?" Brian rolled his eyes.

Alex laughed. "I'm hearing that a lot lately. I'm going to go harass Lucas. Carry on. Call if you have any questions."

"Mmmm hmmm," he was already crunching the new numbers into the company's budget.

Alex found Lucas' lab installed as an underground bunker with equipment and machines scattered around in a layout only he understood. Three of the walls were covered with dry erase boards with equations covering them, while the fourth wall was a monster digital display, showing a beautiful high-resolution photo of the mountains by his university in Argentina. He was currently sleeping in a bed pushed off to one side.

Alex wandered around, looking at his formulas. He was close to solving the battery physics, but he was missing a critical part. One of the boards had the formula for gravity. She recognized it instantly and knew it would work. The solution was elegant in its simplicity, although she supposed people might find the formula itself less than simple.

The picobots would create super-dense matter, calculated at an intensity to create the gravity fields. So long as the station stayed an adequate distance from Earth, the gravitational field strength falloff at a 1/r^2 relationship would be too minuscule to impact tides.

The last board contained yet another version of a possible solution to her battery. It was closer than the other board. Alex picked up a green dry erase marker and started adjusting the formula until it was correct. When she finished, she set the marker back down, and stepped back to survey the formula and bumped into Lucas. He'd woken up without her noticing.

"I don't understand how that works," Lucas said, "I've looked at it that way."

"You're missing particles and another energy field." Alex fiddled with her HUD and created a 3D zoomed model for Lucas of the twisted Gaussian surface showing the two new particles and circular orbits of the charges. She then threw the formula into the 3D space and merged text onto their appropriate parts.

"How'd you do that?"

"I just visualized the physics in my head?" Alex answered, shrugging.

"No, I mean the 3D model with the formula like that." Lucas reached out and ran his fingers through the hologram.

"Oh. That." She set her picobots to building him an equivalent HUD to hers. "Virtual interface."

"I wondered how you made a phone call from the prison. Having my new employer immediately arrested was disturbing, but Brian assured me you would be out again soon."

"Yeah. Sorry about that. The lesson's to not avoid emails and messages." Alex adjusted her commands and made a HUD appear for Lucas. "There you go. Virtual interface. No one can see yours but you. The light waves go only to your eyes and are then filtered to prevent bouncing."

Alex then spent some time explaining how the display could be used with the strange thigh-interface. She didn't hold anything back. 'Build it with secrets,' Soaring Eagle had said. Alex was definitely obeying that directive. When she was sure Lucas had a good understanding of how to operate his HUD, Alex said, "Do I need to tell you that this isn't something anyone else has and you shouldn't mention it to anyone, not even Brian, yet?"

"No. I didn't realize you hadn't told Milo about the space station. I'm very sorry. Brian knew and he and Milo seemed to know everything. They really weren't too surprised about the picobots." Lucas bit his lower lip and released it.

Alex shrugged. "Well, they know about it now, but in the future, don't discuss our technology without checking with me first."

Lucas nodded solemnly. "Speaking of technology, let me show you the gravity formula." He walked briskly over to the other whiteboard.

Alex understood the formula, but she let him explain it anyway to get a feel for how he thought and communicated. She asked directed questions and helped him adapt to not having to explain foundational principles.

Midway through his explanation, Lucas said, "You know, usually at this point, people's eyes are glazed over and I've lost them completely."

"I heard you explained physics to Brian and Milo." Alex smiled at him.

"They asked how the picobots worked," Lucas said defensively.

"Then it's their fault. Carry on." She gestured toward his whiteboard for him to continue.

When he finished, Lucas asked, "Does it make sense? I can explain it more."

"Makes perfect sense. We need to test it."

"Oh! Let me show you!" Lucas was practically bouncing. He went over to his bed and tucked the sheets in, and then put away a glass that was out on one of his tables. He did a quick run to each piece of equipment to stare at it inexplicably and then he went over to a low cabinet. He reached for the cabinet door and then said, "Oh, wait. Here, come hold this."

Alex went over next to the cabinet, and saw there were odd holes in the side of the cabinet, just about the right size for her hand. She raised her eyebrow at him, but did as he instructed, holding onto the cabinet. He opened the cabinet door and flipped a switch inside.

Gravity disappeared. Alex's legs floated upwards and she quickly readjusted her grip to be more secure. Prepared, Lucas didn't float as much. He grabbed the cabinet with both hands and swung himself so his feet stayed on the floor. Alex's inner ears were confusing her. She then noticed all of his equipment, and even his bed were secured to the floor. How had she overlooked that earlier?

"That just counteracts Earth's gravity." Lucas was grinning. "Localized to this room. The people above us just feel a bit heavier than usual. No one's noticed it yet." He reached and flipped the switch again, and Alex slid back to the floor as gravity slowly normalized. "I set it to go slow so I wouldn't smack into something if I accidentally floated away. It's also on a timer, so no more than 5 minutes. Just a precaution. I didn't want to be stuck floating in the middle of the room indefinitely if I screwed up."

Alex bent to look inside the box at the complex circuitry there. "Lucas, this is incredible!"

"The picobots make it possible. They can make things that are impossible to make by any traditional means. The actual matter is condensed up at the ceiling. Because we're on such a small scale, if you go over to the corner of the room, you'll actually slowly fall toward the ceiling directly above us at an angle."

Alex set her picobots to giving her a full systematic specification for his device.

"We need to test it in space." Lucas peered at her quizzically. "You do have a way to get to space, right?"

"Not without attracting attention." Alex ran her fingers through her hair, wondering when she'd be able to do a test or if she'd have to wait until the launch to find out for certain.

Lucas looked over at the 3D model of her battery particles that was still hovering where they'd left the picobot display. His gaze turned inward and he said, "Give me a little bit of time. I might have a way."

"Ok. So you're a big sports fan?" Alex asked, changing the subject.

"Not particularly." Lucas walked over to her model and used his HUD to rotate it. After a few minutes, he said, "Oh, you mean the stadium. Brian wanted one. I told him to use me as an excuse if he wanted, because I'd just solved gravity and you wouldn't deny me anything after that. "

Alex laughed. "Too true. Call if you have any questions." Alex let herself out of his lab. Lucas was too busy studying her energy model to even say goodbye.

Dec finally arrived, having gotten tied up in legal jurisdiction limbo until Luciano could correct it. Alex gave her the full Marino family welcome and got her set up in the company housing, with complete supplies and clothing. Alex took Dec around, introducing her to people as her cousin. Dec was warmly welcomed. Only Brian, one HR person, and the counselor knew anything about Dec's past. She was given a completely clean start without anyone judging her. Alex was vaguely reminded of Sal helping her burn her own police records.

Alex attended yet another torturous family birthday party honoring herself. Her gifts were great and she didn't get to keep a single one of them. Not that she had any use for anything. The event itself seemed kind of pointless; she could have been replaced with a cardboard picture of herself except the guests would have been insulted. She had too much to do to spend time at parties.

Eight months passed. The locals held protests over the newest "building" - a vast four-story enclosure that covered several square miles. The habitats were really too small to be completely sustainable, but once they got to space, they could expand them out. In the meantime, Alex made each "floor" tall enough that the tallest full-grown tree wouldn't reach the ceiling. Equipment at the ceilings created full-spectrum seasonal lights and atmospheric weather and maintained pressure. Money vaporized into soil, rocks, water, plants, animals, food, and knowledgeable staff.

Employees were issued flying cars for inside the desert complex so they could fly directly to the floor of their choice, which created a whole program to train employees and family members on how to navigate within a 3D space. Alex even created an "air bumper car" amusement park for all ages to serve as both fun and learning and to get everyone used to the idea that the vehicles were safe. Only employees and direct family members who'd attended training were allowed to fly the vehicles, although guests were allowed to ride along as passengers. There was no age limit placed on drivers for the air vehicles, but young children needed parental permission. Parents (or security) could remotely direct the cars to come back and land.

Employees at the now expanding Pacific facility were given both SEL air cars and submarines to play with, along with the same training, so they could explore the ocean floor and wildlife. The facility was expanded downward, underwater, to hide the true scale of the expansion. Marine animals came by frequently to investigate the humans behind the SEL windows and the humans got excellent photos and video of the visitors .

Alex got tied up yet again in another patent-infringement law case, but as the "vehicles" used invisible SEL stilts to simulate flying or diving, no patents were violated and the judge was forced to throw the case out. Safety inspectors couldn't find any fault with the vehicles. Alex overlooked the necessary Marino "legal" support that helped expedite the case. Alex gave Brian his own HUD and taught him how to use it.

Many groups were trying to figure out or steal the secret of SEL, but no SEL objects were allowed outside of Green World facilities. Green World acquired a few spies in the employee roster, but Alex's picobot fleet kept her apprised of people running experiments and snooping around. Alex was unconcerned. She was outpacing them and she made sure the picobots were unobservable and that their measuring devices reported what she wanted reported.

Most of her energy was devoted to making sure her employees and neighboring communities were safe. The governments and corporations that wanted her technology were getting more determined. Alex could feel the danger level reaching critical mass. The United States government, in complete secrecy, was preparing to seize her technology.

Alex went to visit Lucas at their desert facility again. He now had several aisles of whiteboards that expanded downward to a maze-like cavern the height of three full floors. He'd created walking shoes that let him materialize floor and stairs just by moving his foot as if he were stepping upward or downward. "Hey, Lucas!" Alex called out into the cavern, waiting for an answer that would say where he was hiding.

"Don't move!" Lucas shouted up at her from an aisle three over from the lab door. "Let me get you the updated shoe software or you might fall. The old version is buggy."

That inspired confidence, Alex thought. "You could always adjust the gravity so a fall wouldn't hurt!" she hollered back, but waited anyway. Shortly thereafter her HUD showed a software update message from him. She installed it and carefully stepped into the direction his voice had come from. She had a hard time getting her brain to overcome the concept of walking on air whenever she came in here. She always felt like she was about to fall even though she completely understood the technology. "The floor will be solidly there. Just walk naturally," Lucas kept reminding her when she visited. It was easier said than done.

Alex closed her eyes and walked, imagining a room. Every so often she stopped, peeked below her, and then continued, until she saw him below. She again closed her eyes and imagined a staircase going down and stepped toward him.

"You know you don't have to close your eyes," Lucas said.

"Yeah, I know. It's easier," Alex replied, gazing at the massive whiteboard. It was covered in tiny text, all part of some prodigious equation. To see the whole thing, she'd have to walk the length of the room from top to bottom.

"To what do I owe the honor of this visit?" Lucas asked enthusiastically.

Alex stared at the part of the formula on the whiteboard that Lucas had been changing. It looked like gibberish, even to her educated mind. Lucas seemed so excited to have someone visiting and someone with whom he could speak about his passion that Alex felt bad that she didn't have more time to give him.

Alex said, "I have some numbers for launching into space that I want you to review."

"Sure." Lucas rubbed his chin, thinking, and then tapped at his HUD, and the room dynamically reconfigured to make the aisle wider. A new digital display shot up in front of them and her HUD showed a hook to the screen.

Alex connected and sent her calculations over and waited while Lucas studied the equation and numbers. "Um. Hmm." He again tapped at his HUD and the whiteboard behind them moved back to make more space, and a simulation of the desert facility lifting off the planet appeared in the air next to them. He adjusted things a little and reran it, and did that a few more times. "Yes, it'll work just fine as you had it, but you're going to need more mass to fill in the hole we're leaving behind. The air differential if we move too fast is going to cause a massive wind-storm if we aren't careful." Lucas punched in an equation, and said, "That's max speed." After a moment, he added, "And my lab is going to have to come above ground."

Alex nodded. "How soon do you think we could do it?"

"We could launch tomorrow if we had the extra mass." Lucas' eyes slid back to his own astronomically more complex equation.

"Ok, thank you." She smiled. "So how's your equation going?"

"I think it might work." Lucas nodded firmly at his equation, not at her.

"Going to tell me what it is yet?"

"Not until it works." Lucas tweaked one of his numbers.

Alex shrugged, content to let him tinker. She pondered his lab jealously and wished she had time to gain his obvious mastery of her technology. Instead, she knew it was time to start making arrangements. She left for her own desert office which was just a token closet-sized room where she could sit quietly and think without being disturbed. Time. She needed more time and Alex knew she didn't have any left at all if they were going to space.