The Fair & Foul (Project Gene Assist Book 1) (5 page)

He certainly has a one-track mind.
“Yes, to them it would feel as real as if they were in the room together.”
Fine. If this is what it takes to keep my project alive.
Juliane stepped closer. “They both would feel the heat of the fire, the taste of wine on their lips.” She caressed her throat. “The carpet they were sitting on would feel just as soft or scratchy as they believed it should feel like.”
Wait, that came off too naturally.
Was she flirting?

“I can think of a number of ways that could make life interesting.”

Juliane felt ridiculous.
No, of course not. Now who was being unprofessional?
Louis was technically her boss, even if he didn't want to act like it. “Well, as I said, it is only a theory for now. Until we can convince people on a grand scale that there is a benefit to modifying their DNA to accept data transmission, all I can do for now is showcase my emulator in a way that the majority of people can visualize a benefit—not just those with the maturity of a teenager.” She just couldn’t help herself. Juliane looked pointedly at Louis, who still lacked the decency to blush; if anything, his grin came back with a greater vengeance.

"But your system is a long way from being perfect," Louis stated.

"What do you mean?" Juliane's forehead wrinkled. Her program was exquisite.

"Well, as you said, all it takes is for one errant thought and the system can take a user down a path that they really didn’t want to go down. Therefore, in a shared experience, who would really control the simulated reality?"

Juliane paused, surprised. It was a complication she hadn't considered. "I suppose whoever had the strongest will would take over the entire simulation."

"And what if a shared reality was, I don't know, hacked or hijacked? Espionage isn't limited to the movies. What then?"

Juliane's fingers tapped absently across her equipment as she thought through his question. She realized she had no ready answer. "I suppose there is some potential for abuse. I'll design in a system limiter.”

“How much would that cost me?” asked Louis, pantomiming the motion of pulling out and opening his wallet.

“It doesn’t have to cost you anything. It is really just a matter of programming time.”

Louis raised his eyebrows briefly as he snorted. "And who do you think pays for your programming time, exactly? I will be presenting new advances in our technology in Vegas in two months, with all the publicity you could hope for. I'd like you to be there with me, with this . . . What did you call it? The Total Immersion Reality Emulator?" Louis twisted his expression as if he had tasted something unpleasant. "I’ll need to ask the marketing team to help with that one. TIRE doesn’t exactly scream high tech. In the meantime, you will need to figure out a way to get those limiters in place. Do you think you can do that?”

It took a minute for Louis's words to register. After her confrontation with Alan, a small part of her had wondered if she would ever get the recognition she deserved. She had convinced herself that it was only a matter of time. However, she never would have thought that time would come on the same day and for a completely different project. Perhaps Louis being in charge of the ACI wasn't going to be as disastrous as she originally expected. Juliane smiled. "I'll be ready.”

Chad returned as Louis turned to leave. Seeing Louis approach, he jumped to the side. Coffee sloshed over the rim of the cup and onto his hand.

"Did you burn yourself?" Juliane asked, glancing around the room for something to blot the liquid.

Chad shook his head. "It's okay. It wasn't all that hot anymore. The demonstration is already over?”

Juliane sighed as she took the cup from his hand. She wondered if she could put an on-demand coffee maker on the list of requirements for Louis. "Let's just say I showed him enough.”

Louis turned at the room's exit with a grin. "I do believe Vegas will be a memorable experience for both of us. I look forward to seeing you in two months."

Chad was late again, and Juliane was fuming, her earlier promise to be more patient with him long since forgotten. The symposium was only a month away and she still hadn’t figured out how to demonstrate her technology to a large audience, short of forcing them each to file into the chamber one by one. Even if that was an option, she wasn't convinced that the average person coming in off the street would be able to grasp its greater potential. The more she had thought of it, the more worried she had become that Louis's use of the chamber would be considered the norm.

She needed to adapt her algorithm, and in order to do that, she needed another brain in the room for it to reference in testing. Chad's continued absences were causing delays she couldn't afford.

Juliane was just about to write him off for the day when her assistant burst through her office door. “I’m so, so sorry, Dr. Faris! I know I am late, but Nadia needed to finish telling me what I need to expect this weekend.”

Juliane rolled her eyes skyward. “I hesitate to ask, but what is happening this weekend?”

“Nadia believes it is time we took our relationship to the next level. I’m meeting her parents, and I have to make a good impression.”

“Oh, and this announcement delayed you by”—Juliane glanced at the clock even though she was already very much aware of what time it was—“fifty minutes.”

“Really? Eh . . . I feel absolutely terrible, but you don’t understand, she’s daddy’s angel,” Chad stuttered as he was prone to do when he became particularly agitated. Juliane gave him a pointed look; she had previously given him tips on how to center himself, as she couldn’t stand listening to his pained attempts to force out words.

Chad took a few calming breaths and continued. “If I don’t make a good impression, well then, I might as well consider our relationship over. She’s written out a list of everything I need to study up on for tonight, and it’s not just things like his favorite colors or his favorite teams. I hate to ask, but can I leave early today?”

Juliane took a calming breath herself. It was too close to the symposium to find and train a new assistant. If he would only apply himself toward his career with half the energy his relationship consumed, he might just have a chance to get through the academic liaison program. Juliane fought the urge to shake her head in disgust; wasting your talent was worse than having no talent at all, in her opinion.

A familiar voice spoke up from the doorway before Juliane had a chance to reply. “Oh, Jules, you know if you ever wanted to come by my office, I would be more than willing to provide you with some one-on-one mentorship on how to inspire those under you.”

Juliane schooled her expression. She would not give Alan the satisfaction of seeing how much his words agitated her. “Alan, please, we’ve been through this nearly half a dozen times. Please don't call me Jules.”

“Yes, we have, and yet, I continue to do it. So why do you insist on getting angry about it? I don’t understand what your complaint is. You are a gem, and it makes sense that your name reflects how dazzling you are.”

Juliane fought the urge to gag. If the condescension rolling off Alan's tongue was any thicker, it would be visible to the naked eye.

“You know, Jules," continued Alan, dragging out each sound of the word, "if you ever tire of the whole ice princess thing, you might try to learn how to accept a compliment. You aren’t that hard on the eyes after all. Who knows? You might even learn how to land yourself a prince. I’d be happy to give you some one-on-one mentoring for that as well.”

Juliane bet he would. If Juliane was honest with herself, Alan wasn’t terribly unattractive himself, at least physically, but Juliane liked to believe that she had higher standards. “I assume that you had other reasons for coming down from Mount High to see me?”

“Now, Jules, why do you hurt me when you know I have only ever wanted to look out for you? What other reason might I need?” When Juliane didn’t speak, he continued, “Ah, but you are right. This isn’t strictly a friendly call. I’ve know that you landed yourself a direct assignment from Mr. Evans, and I know you’ll be with him at the New Tomorrow Tech Symposium. I imagine you’re probably getting pretty nervous and starting to think you aren’t ready, but I just want you to know that the ACI wouldn’t have signed off on you going—no matter who backed your invitation—if they thought for a moment that your work was going to reflect negatively on them.”

“How unexpected of you, Alan. I appreciate your concern, but no, I’m not nervous at all.” Juliane lifted her chin and rolled her shoulders back in an attempt to ooze confidence. Alan couldn’t possibly know how far behind schedule she was, could he?

“Excellent. I am glad to see that you aren’t wasting any energy on an emotion like that. It isn’t as if you will have that large a crowd anyway.” Alan turned to leave, placing his hand on the doorframe. Juliane remained silent. She would not ask for clarification. She would not.

“Our hall fits 200,” Chad said.

If Juliane hadn’t been working so hard to show only a calm and cool demeanor, she would have slapped her forehead at Chad’s remark. This was not the time for him to attempt to defend her honor. She knew how Alan operated and was therefore unsurprised when Alan responded.

Without acknowledging Chad’s presence, Alan directed his answer to her. “Well, that’s a pity, as the majority of attendees will be in
my
presentation hall, but at least, on the bright side, you won’t have to worry about violating any fire codes.”

Juliane nearly bit her tongue in two as Alan departed. “Do you never think ahead? How could you set him up like that?” Juliane watched a rather impressive color change sweep through Chad’s features. His skin became alabaster before blazing with a red that could put his hair to shame. She slumped down at her desk, rubbing a hand over her eyes as if it might somehow wipe away the sudden exhaustion she felt.

“I’m sorry, Chad. I know you couldn’t help yourself. He’s very good at reading situations and manipulating people to get the outcome he wants. I’ve seen him do it over and over again, and you are a particularly easy read. You should never play poker or chess with him.” She began to massage her temples.

Chad also returned to his desk and picked up a ball made to look like an eight ball from a billiards table. Juliane watched as Chad looked at it, returned it to its spot on the desk, only to pick it up again and repeat the process a few seconds later.

“Why do you keep doing that?” she asked.

“Oh, this is a Magic 8 Ball.”

“Are you asking it to grant you back the last hour?”

“It’s not that kind of magic. Did you know my family agrees with you?” Chad’s words were barely audible. He continued to look toward the toy.

Somewhat intrigued, she caught herself asking, “As well they should, but about what?”

“That I don’t think ahead. But unfortunately I do, and that’s kind of my problem. For example, you might ask me if I want to watch a movie. If I say yes, I'll have to answer a slew of follow-up questions. What movie do you want to see? What theater? Are you going to want popcorn or a drink? There are any number of choices. But what if, as a result, we go to this one particular theater that has new kids on the staff who don’t know how to properly pop the corn. What if they are always leaving too many kernels? What if the restrooms have doors that stick
?
What if after drinking too much soda, you leave the movie with a handful of popcorn to go to the restroom. You don’t want to take food with you into the bathroom, so you try to eat it in one bite, but a kernel mixed in with the handful of popcorn sticks in your throat, blocking your airway, and the door back out is jammed. No one notices that you choked to death alone in the restroom until it is far too late, and it is my fault because I decided that we should go out to the movies rather than staying in.”

Juliane sat in stunned silence for a few seconds. It was probably the longest conversation she had ever had with her assistant outside the topic of their work. “How do you manage to leave the house at all, thinking like that?”

Chad shrugged, returning his focus to the oversized Magic 8 Ball. “There are even more terrible scenarios for those who remain home alone all day. My parents gave me this”—Chad waved the plastic ball in Juliane’s direction—"as a joke.” She had seen it before on his desk, but had assumed it was just some random knick-knack. Now, she could see that the missing piece of the ball was filled in with a dark, flat surface.

"It was my grandfather's."

"What? That plastic thing is an antique?"

Chad shrugged. "Well, they don't make them anymore, so I guess it is a bit of a collectible."

Juliane rolled her eyes. She never could understand people who would pay an arm and a leg for an old toy when the new toys were so much better.

Chad, lost in his own thoughts, continued, "I remember it sat on the top shelf at my grandfather's house. I was told I wasn't allowed to touch it until I was tall enough to reach it. He said it was magic."

"And, of course, you believed him."

"He told me it could tell the future."

Juliane snorted.

"Laugh if you want, but I was a kid. For that reason, I couldn't wait. One day, I stacked a footstool on top of the desk and climbed to the top, but it was still just out of reach. I stretched out as far as I could go, but I lost my balance and accidentally kicked the footstool out from under me. I grabbed hold of the shelf in an attempt to right myself and wound up bringing the whole shelf down with me."

"Obviously you survived." Juliane knew she should be more sympathetic, but she needed Chad's attention to be back on their work.

"I did. But I wound up breaking my grandmother's favorite vase. That was the first lesson on unintended consequences."

It became clear to Juliane that Chad was not going to return his focus on the present until she allowed him to finish this little trip down memory lane. "So tell me, how does it work?" she asked.

That question caught his attention. Chad eagerly showed her its underside. "It’s filled with water, and there is a twenty-sided die inside with a number of things like yes, no, or maybe printed on the sides. You think of a question, turn the ball over, and then, poof! It tells you the answer." Chad put the globe back down on his desk. "I haven’t needed it much, though, since meeting Nadia.”