Chapter Text

Chapter 1

May 12, 2057

In the press, and by extension popular imagination, Mr. Heydrich was a tireless worker.  A dispatch from BeastNews had referred to him as “the hardest-working man in futuremaking,” effusing about the tech trillionaire over footage of a coiffed, amiable man making small talk with the glitterati.

The Bill Heydrich lurching past his assistant’s desk at 3:45 PM painted a picture in stark contrast to the one cultivated by the tastemakers.  Sunglasses masked the bags under his eyes, but did nothing to distract from his unkempt hair or the coffee stain below the left shoulder of his shirt.  His only greeting was to lift two fingers from the coffee cup in his hand and jostle the cup in his assistant’s general direction.

“Peter’s waiting for you.”

Bill let out a groan, but made no other comment as he entered his office and shut the door.   Peter Wolff—his parents really named him that—was brilliant, but constitutionally incapable of relaxing.  They met as roommates in sophomore year of college, and became fast friends.  Peter was only able to attend on an academic scholarship, which he nearly lost after Bill kept pressuring him to take one more hit, go to one more party, sleep with one more girl.  Bill assured him his connections and money would keep Peter safe, and sure enough they both graduated with distinction.  The fact that Bill went in alone to the dean’s office to “straighten out” any issues with his grades was something he elected not to pester Peter with.

No, if anyone did the pestering it was Peter.  At every step of their meteoric rise to fame, he had groused and pouted.  He didn’t like that Bill’s father pulled strings to get them attention from journalists, saying they weren’t ready to present a prototype to the public.  He argued bitterly against moving up the IPO announcement, certain their startup was mere weeks away from collapse.  No matter how much the numbers on his bank accounts swelled, he couldn’t stop thinking like he was still poor.  Bill shook his head over poor old Peter, then winced as the man strode into his office.

“Look I know you feel like hot garbage, but Bill, this is important.”

Bill groaned.  “Peter…”

“And no, it can’t wait until after the investor meeting.”

“Peter, please… I’m dying here.”

Peter answered by depositing a steaming mug on Bill’s desk.

“Uh, I‘ve already got coffee…”  Bill gestured weakly at the two takeout cups to his left.

“Herbal tea.  Uncaffeinated, so you can drink it without your heart exploding.  Helps soothe a sore throat after a long night of bad choices.”

Before he could properly roll his eyes, Jaleel interrupted them.

“Sandeep wants to go over some figures beforehand, said it’ll only take five minutes.”

Sandeep was standing behind Jaleel.  Bill waved him in as Peter stormed off.

After an Odyssean visit to the restroom, Bill was fashionably late to the shareholder meeting.  The man tried to be punctual—really and truly—but forces always seemed to conspire against him.  Thankfully, everything was ready.  His team was assembled in his favorite conference room, the blinds were drawn, and Sandeep had warmed up the shareholders for him.  That blinking red light on the phone, center stage on the table, meant only one thing: showtime.  Bill flashed his winning smile at his colleagues and leaned in.

“Thank you for your patience, ladies and gentlemen, I had to put out a little fire on my way here.  Now, let’s start with the good news: thirteen percent.  That’s thirteen percent growth, a twenty-eight percent increase on the growth Nemos achieved last quarter.”

The voices on the conference call murmured appreciatively.  From the corner of his eye, Bill caught Peter glowering at him; stonefaced and rigid, the flush in his cheeks was the only indication he wasn’t a statue.  Bill tilted his head and gave the barest of shrugs, looking from Peter to the phone and back again.

“Let’s go over some of those cost-cutting measures we implemented, Bill.”  His voice sounded equanimous, but everyone in the room saw a man barely restraining himself.  Peter placed a hand over the papers Sandeep had brought in, and slid them across the table until they were in front of him.  “How about we start with marketing?”

“The budget for marketing has, with only a marginal increase in budget, led to incredible—”

“I think we can skip the boilerplate, Sandeep, we all know what the marketing budget is for.  We’re a monopoly, aren’t we?  You don’t need to advertise when you’re the only game in town.  No, our marketing department is really more of a matchmaking service for Bill here.  They make sure only to hire girls who are white, thin, and not a day over 25.  Short-term contracts, too, so when he inevitably gets bored and cuts one loose he doesn’t have to see her slinking around the office licking her wounds.”

“Peter, perhaps we can—”

“We?  There hasn’t been a ‘we’ in years.”  His voice began to crescendo as his eyes locked onto the device in the center of the table.  “This is the first time I’ve seen these numbers, and I’m president of the company.  No, these figures were cooked up—emphasis on cooked, for those of you on the phone—behind my back, because I wouldn’t sign off on the biggest mistake in the history of this company!”

“Peter, please don’t shout—”

“Sandeep, you were part of this!  Why should I give a damn what you think about anything?!”  Peter was on his feet now, leaning over the conference phone like a minister preaching fire and brimstone.  “I know you money-grubbing parasites can’t think that far into the future, but mark my words:  they gave you those juicy growth numbers by shuttering the only department in this company that produces anything of value.”

“Just stop,” Bill said, shaking his head.  “I’m sorry, I can’t afford to keep pouring good money into your little pet project.  If you feel iced out of the day-to-day operations around here, Peter, it’s because you’ve stopped being a team player.  I mean this is hardly the time or place, is it?  When are you going to wake up, buddy?  We miss you.”

“That’s a crock and you know it!” roared Peter, pounding the table for emphasis.  “And if you touch a single piece of equipment then I’m—”

“What, Peter,” said Bill flatly.  “What are you going to do, exactly?”

“Something I should have done a long time ago.”

Without another word, Peter slammed the door behind him.

Peter was all talk, as usual.  He disappeared for a few weeks, but as always he came back to the office with his tail between his legs.  Tempting as it was to poke the bear, Bill offered a neutral head nod at his friend when they crossed paths in the hallway.  Peter nodded back, indicating he was ready to work again.  Nothing more needed to be said.

With his partner back in check, Bill was free to refocus on what mattered: how to capitalize on the moment.  The yappers and rumor-mongers of the mainstream press feasted hungrily on the drama at Nemos, indulging in the wild speculation that comes naturally to those most beholden to the attention economy.  Headlines and thumbnail titles like “BOSS BATTLE?” and “he said WHAT?!” dotted the digital landscape for days after the shareholder meeting; as soon as attention began to taper off, Bill let some upstart get close enough to stick her phone under his face and ask him what the deal was with “you and The Wolf.”  He gave her a terse reply, then angrily spiked one of his trademark coffee cups into the nearest bin.  This was Friday afternoon on Memorial Day weekend, so of course #billyeetrich was in the top five trending topics for almost a week after.  Truth be told, the part Bill enjoyed the most was getting over a thousand likes for his anonymous comment on ShippingLanes.com:

boys, please no 😭

don’t let money get in the way of your love

After an initial tumble, Nemos stock had already risen above its previous value.  Now they were inching upward, and the CEO was looking for something to goose them just a little bit more.  To his surprise and delight, Peter swooped in to deliver.

“It’s ready.”