J. Gonzalez - The Corporation

Michelle smiled and shook Bruce’s hand. “Thank you. I’m happy to be here.”

Sam and Gary were behind Michelle like proud parents. “Michelle can’t wait to get started,” Sam said. “We think it would be very beneficial for her to meet the rest of the executive staff this afternoon, and perhaps get acquainted with everybody at dinner tonight.”

“I agree.” Bruce had that same blank glaze in his eyes but his was more like Gary’s and Sam’s; he was more animated, more life-like, but Michelle could still tell there was something different about him. Maybe the executives had more power over their facial features and expressions; maybe they could fake being human. “Let me call Connie, Bill, and Tracy in,” Bruce said as he went to his desk. He pressed a button on an intercom system on his desk. “Tina, can you have Connie, Bill, Tracy, and Reginald come into my office please?” “Yes, Mr. Sullivan.”

Bruce leaned back in his chair. “How were your flights?” he asked Sam and Michelle.

“Fine,” Sam said. Michelle was attentive as Sam and Bruce made small talk about the flight. A moment later the door to Bruce’s expansive office opened and two men and two women entered the room. Michelle stood up as they entered and suppressed a gasp of shock as she came face to face with her mother, Connie Dowling, for the first time in twelve years.

AT SOME POINT during dinner Michelle thought she was going to scream when Bruce casually mentioned that it was a funny coincidence that she and Connie shared the same last name.

Michelle took a sip of wine and wiped her mouth with the heavy white cloth napkin she’d placed in her lap. It was seven-thirty p.m. and they had a private booth at Brannigan’s, which was a very upper-class steak house. There were nine in their party, including Reginald Dwight, Vice-President of Operations, and Tina Young, Frank Marstein’s executive assistant. Frank Marstein was currently holed up in his executive suite at headquarters strategizing tomorrow’s plans.

“It’s a coincidence all right,” Michelle said, not looking at Connie, who was seated three people away on her left. “But then I run into people often who have the same last name and aren’t related.”

“Go to Los Angeles and you’ll see a Garcia or a Hernandez on every corner,” Tina Young said. She was in her twenties and would have been pretty if she’d not been so severe-looking.

Michelle had stayed close to Gary and Sam’s side while they talked in Bruce’s office. When introduced around she’d shaken hands with everybody and nodded politely, noting the same empty expressions, a common trait with everybody she saw at Corporate Financial. When she was introduced to Connie she kept up her front. “Nice to meet you,” she’d said. Connie nodded back politely with the same false look as the others. She noticed in the few seconds she was able to see her mother that mom hadn’t aged much; she still had the same conservative hairstyle, cut short and close to her face, still favored the same bland suits. Michelle couldn’t tell if her mother recognized her. If she did, she gave no indication.

Staying by Sam and Gary’s side was the only way she knew how to stay sane.

She kept up her business-like front as they talked about Project Reign, how everything went today, and Michelle paid attention and tried not to look at her mother. The few times she did, she stole quick glances, always making sure her eyes scanned the room and didn’t settle on any one individual. Every glimpse she caught of her mother, she was more absorbed in the discussion.

Things surely haven’t changed that much , Michelle thought. She even looks the same as she did the last time I saw her . And on the heels of that: I wonder where dad is ?

Before she knew it she was in the backseat of the Lexus again as they headed to Brannigan’s for dinner. At some point before they left for the restaurant, she mentioned to Sam that she wanted to check her email and Bruce directed her to a spare desk in his suite with a network connection nearby. She set up her laptop and, while pretending to check her mail, made a visible effort to appear still interested in the discussion. She quickly opened all of her new email in her account, then opened a web browser. Her home page settings were automatically configured to hit the Corporate Financial Intranet site and, once there, she quickly scanned the links. She quickly found a section on Headquarters and kept browsing until she found what she wanted: a file that detailed the diagram of the building for potential visitors. Michelle saved the file onto her hard drive and quickly looked for other information that might be useful. She didn’t see anything, so she disconnected from the network, shut down her laptop, and rejoined the group.

Her cell phone vibrated twice; once while she was in the meeting, a second time while appetizers were being served at Brannigan’s. She hoped it wasn’t Donald; she didn’t want to worry him. She couldn’t think about Donald now. If she did she’d go crazy, so she pushed him out of her mind and concentrated on the group and bullshitting them as best as she could.

She tried not to think of her mother as well.

Does she know who I am ? Michelle thought as she faked interest in the topic of discussion—Project Reign and the sales projections for today, which Connie was rattling off in a flat, toneless voice. I don’t think she does but then she used to look like that all the time… maybe she did recognize me, maybe she’ll tell Sam and Gary, I wonder if she and dad live out here now, maybe…

“…productivity rose sharply by forty percent,” Connie said, reading the numbers off her Blackberry. “Our sales were up sixty percent and we expect that to go higher tomorrow.”

“And the buyouts?” Bruce asked. He hadn’t touched his appetizers.

“All going as planned,” Connie reported. She regarded everybody with that flat look. “Wall Street noticed and the Dow rose through the roof. A story will be running in tomorrow’s Journal. The financial news outlets are already reporting the activity. Most of it’s positive, especially Fox’s coverage. MSNBC has been overwhelming negative.”

“They aren’t clients, are they?” Bruce asked.

“No, they’re not,” Sam answered. “We’re hoping they respond favorably to our marketing efforts this week. Dennis Harrington is paying them a visit tomorrow with an offer.”

“Have him extend a seventy percent discount for two weeks,” Reginald said. “If they bite, Dennis can bring in Alma and Joyce Caruthers Wednesday. Joyce can get to work immediately and we can start seeing a change by Friday if we act quickly.”

Michelle wondered how they could influence news coverage, but she didn’t want to ask. The thought that they had control over the news networks terrified her. It made sense; if the big guns—CNN, Fox—were owned by large conglomerates, Corporate Financial did business with them and had sunk their tentacles deep into their other operations. Bad news about Project Reign would not go well with viewers. Remaining silent on it or skewing the news heavily in favor of it, would make people think it was a good thing. Of course not everybody believed what they read or saw on the news, and Michelle was one of them.

When the main courses came, Michelle dug in. She was ravenous and she didn’t know when she’d get a chance to eat again. She’d ordered the seafood platter with rice pilaf, and as she ate she paid attention to the conversation and joined in where appropriate. She wasn’t faking it anymore—she wanted to know as much as possible about what was going on, what their business agenda was, so she’d have sufficient ammunition to go to Alan with. Her seeming enthusiasm must have been evident because at one point during the meal Sam nudged her and whispered. “I think you’re casting a nice impression on the group. You ready for tomorrow?”