Phil Williams - 2050 - Psycho Island

Something else bothered him. Her ring. The Irish Claddagh ring passed down to her from her late mother. A silver ring with hands holding a heart. If the hands and the heart faced inward, it indicated that April’s heart was taken. Worn the other way, her heart was open to suitors.

They’d dated for nearly six months before she’d turned the ring inward, but now the heart faced outward.

The autonomous Mercedes navigated northern Virginia traffic as Jacob lounged in the back seat, scrolling through his email and sipping his coffee. He opened an email from his brother Eric.

From:eroth@rothnorthamerica.com

To:jroth@housingtrust.com

Subject:Meeting with Zhang Jun

Jacob,

I was able to broker a meeting for you with Jun. It’s on the top floor of The Regal Hotel in DC on November 23 at 9:00 p.m. I know it’s a Saturday night, but beggars can’t be choosers. You can thank me now.

Jun is eccentric and as power-hungry as they come. Don’t expect a fair deal. He believes the Chinese are superior to Americans. You might be able to use that to your advantage. Also, you will probably be walking into a party. He likes conducting business at parties. He thinks it gives him an advantage to distract his opponents with alcohol and women.

Watch out. He’s a snake. Try not to be too stuffy. He doesn’t like that. Drink his drinks but don’t get drunk. Accept the company of a woman, human or robotic, but don’t become enamored. If you can do that and keep your wits about you, you have a chance.

Good luck,

Eric

Jacob tapped on his tablet, adding the meeting to his schedule, to take place in eleven days. Conveniently, The Regal Hotel was only half an hour from his office in McLean, Virginia.

The autonomous Mercedes turned onto the sprawling Housing Trust campus. Six five-story stone-and-tinted-glass buildings were connected with glass breezeways. The grounds were impeccably maintained. Dark green grass, fresh mulch, not a weed in sight. The maple leaves were still bright green, fall coming later and later.

The Mercedes idled at the entrance to the main building. “You have arrived at Housing Trust Headquarters. Have a wonderful day, Mr. Roth,” the female voice said through the car’s speakers.

Jacob put his tablet inside his briefcase and exited the Mercedes. He yawned as he stepped to the glass doors. He was still jet-lagged from his trip to England over the weekend. The front door opened for him, the door sensing the badge in his pocket and the facial recognition cameras validating that his badge was, in fact, him.

Jacob took the elevator to the top floor. A few employees rode the elevator with him, but Jacob didn’t know any of their names. They had over six thousand human employees. The elevator was dead silent, everyone watching the numbers tick higher, a few exiting at each floor. Jacob was alone by the time he reached the top floor. He stepped down the hall and entered a glass door that read CEO Jacob Roth. Inside, he passed the reception desk and his new receptionist, Zoe Benson.

Zoe said, “Good morning, Mr. Roth.”

He nodded, stopping in front of her. “I’d like some coffee.”

Zoe stood from her seat, removing her headset. “Right away, Mr. Roth.”

She walked toward the kitchenette and the coffeemaker. Jacob watched the rock of her hips in her pencil skirt and the flex of her calves in her high heels. After all, that was why he’d hired the young brunette—or rather had okayed the hire by his assistant. Jacob continued to his office, stopping at the open office door of his assistant, Elyse.

“Good morning, Mr. Roth,” Elyse said, standing from her desk.

“Good morning, Elyse,” Jacob replied.

Elyse was tall, athletic, with high cheekbones, and long dark hair parted down the middle. She could pass for an Italian model, and she had the brains to graduate top of her class with a Harvard MBA. Elyse followed Jacob, intent on prepping her boss for the day. Jacob held the door for Elyse as they entered his corner office.

“Thank you,” Elyse said in reference to Jacob’s chivalry.

“You’re welcome,” Jacob replied. “How was your weekend?”

Jacob’s office was spacious, with floor-to-ceiling windows that spanned the rear wall, a mahogany desk, and a sitting area with plush leather furniture. He set down his briefcase and sat behind his desk.

“It was good. Perfect running weather. How about you?” Elyse sat down in one of the chairs opposite Jacob.

“It was long. I’m happy it’s over.” Jacob sighed. “Anything pressing?”

Elyse gave him the rundown. Jacob had a meeting first thing with Ramesh, the CFO. Jacob also had a meeting scheduled with the President of Subsidized Housing and the VP in charge of maintenance.

Ramesh Patel sat across from Jacob. The middle-aged Indian CFO was small and skinny but with the paunch of a well-fed westerner. He had a small chin, big wire-rimmed glasses, and a huge forehead created by his receding hairline. He resembled an alien.

“We are in big trouble,” Ramesh said. “We need either an influx of investor capital or better terms for our bonds. With these interest rates, our debts are compounding, and we can’t stop the bleeding without major restructuring and layoffs. The short sellers are killing us.”

Zoe entered the office without knocking, holding Jacob’s cup of coffee. The room went silent as she approached. She set the coffee on the desk.

“Thank you,” Jacob said.

“You’re welcome, Mr. Roth.” Zoe smiled, turned on her heels, and stepped toward the door. She stopped at the door and pivoted, standing silent for a beat.

Jacob scowled at his receptionist. “Did you need something?”

“Sorry, Mr. Roth. I was just wondering if Mr. Patel wanted something to drink.”

“No thank you,” Ramesh said.

Zoe nodded and exited the office.

Safely alone again, Jacob said, “But, if we have layoffs, we’ll have to pay severance packages, and we’ll ultimately take a hit to top-line revenue. These employees are doing deals. I know it’s not enough, but scaling back won’t solve the problem. We have to do more profitable deals per employee.”

“Even if we can do that, I would still recommend cuts wherever possible.”

“I agree, but we can’t cut anyone who contributes to revenue. We can delay scheduled renovations. We can cut from the maintenance division, public relations, and marketing.”

Ramesh winced and ran his hand over his thinning hair. He looked like he was about to pull out the rest of his hair by the roots. “Renovations are already way overdue, which adds pressure to maintenance, which is another big problem. We are dangerously behind on repairs and scheduled maintenance. Nearly half of our air-conditioning systems were out for at least a week this past summer. Don’t forget. We had three deaths attributed to heat stroke. These people were all old and in poor health, but it was a PR nightmare.”

“I know,” Jacob said, nodding. “We’ll find the funding. I have a meeting scheduled with Zhang Jun.”

Ramesh wagged his head. “Congress may not let us borrow from the Chinese, especially if the Chinese want equity interest, which I can guarantee they will.”

“Congress will either let us borrow, or maybe this’ll encourage them to increase our federal funding.”

Summer’s autonomous vehicle dropped them off in front of a twelve-story concrete apartment building. The concrete was a drab off-white, giving the impression that the building needed a bath. It was low-income subsidized housing. Summer and Connor entered the lobby. Two old men played chess at a table. No screens, no holograms. Just a chessboard with wooden pieces. Summer and Connor approached the reception area, where a young man tapped on his phone behind the desk. They stood in front of the man for a few seconds, but his eyes were still buried in his tiny screen.