Hugh J. O'Donnell

For Roberto, the stock sale was the final insult.  He had never been a loyal soldier to Midas Corp.  Their takeover of his company had been all but openly hostile, but the price had been too good to pass up, and The City needed his translation algorithms and messaging capability to become what it could be.  Sizemore had never trusted him, and he admitted it was probably with good reason.  But to sell his shares without consulting the board, Roberto included, was unconscionable.  He banged his fist on the table.  “I demand an explanation,” he shouted to the grinning idiot.

Dani watched the rest of the board, waiting for the resentment to break the surface.  She wondered who would crack first.  Would it be Victoria, Sizemore’s able second in command?  How much did she know about this deal?  Or would it be Raine, the angel investor who kept Midas afloat when it was the whipping boy of a phalanx of international justice probes?  Or would it be Trey and Linda, the venture capitalists that got The City off the ground without knowing what it was?  It turned out to Roberto, the Brazilian social media wunderkind, who threw the first punch.

Sam was an oil baron.  His daddy had been an oil baron.  His son, if he didn’t bankrupt the company or buy a baseball team or some damn thing, would be one too.  Sam knew there was a lot going on in this, room.  It wasn’t a real space, but with his gloves and goggles on, it might as well have been.  Everything else was fake, too.  The smiles, the platitudes.  The board was a nest of vipers, but this new guy, Babbage, he was different.  His frozen face just as fake, but he wore it openly.  Sam liked that.