Brave New Worlds Part 39

I was running my report through my head, thinking about the companies that had the most bad news for humanity in the works. He sat down a couple of bar-stools away. We traded a little eye contact and a few shy smiles in the dim light.

"So which of these evil b.a.s.t.a.r.ds are you representing?"

He laughed. "CraveTech. "

"Ooh, a startup. Exciting. "

"Yeah. What about you?"

"Me? I'm with an underground group whose goal is to liberate people from the tyranny of corporate chemical dependence. "

"Huh. Underground, you said?"

"Yeah, we're not very good at that part. " I was already starting to like his laugh, especially since it came so easily. "Actually, I freelance in marketing. "

"Anything I might have seen?"

"Maybe the Junior Chemical Engineer campaign. "

"'Big Molecules for Little Hands. '"

"That's the one," I said, suddenly aware I was twisting a lock of my hair around my finger. I reached for my drink.

"Wasn't there a ma.s.sive judgment against them in one of the last big cla.s.s action suits?"

"No, that was Union-Pfizer's My First Exothermic Reaction. Ours were just repackaged Make Your Own Cologne! kits left over from the last Queer Eye reunion tour. "

"Clever. " He got up and closed the barstool gap between us.

"Despicable. So what do you do at CraveTech?"

"I run the place. "

"That's funny," I said, laughing until he slid the nearest candle closer. I squinted at a face I almost recognized from the cover of Time-Newsweek.

"Where are your gla.s.ses?"

"Contacts tonight. "

"You lose the gla.s.ses when you don't want to be recognized. "

"Yeah, sort of a-"

"Reverse Clark Kent thing. "

He smiled. "Yeah," and I could feel his geeky little heart reaching out for mine.

Tonight he's wearing his gla.s.ses. He looks cute in them.

"Of course, the really exciting work is in BeMod," he says, slicing into his steak.

"BeMod?" this seems like a good time to play dumb.

"Behavior Modification. The current dart formulas can make you want to ingest something-food, smoke, whatever. That's easy. "

"Easy for you," I say, raising my eyebrows toward the b.u.mp that's only just beginning to subside.

At least he has the grace to look embarra.s.sed. "Yeah, uh, sorry about that. But once we s.h.i.+p the darts to the providers, it's pretty much out of CraveTech's hands. I get Stuck sometimes, too, you know. "

I spell the word oblivious in my head over and over, until I lose the urge to punch him. It takes four this time, so I miss hearing yet another version of the "If It Wasn't CraveTech It Would Be Someone Else" speech.

". . . anyway, it's all just using the chemistry of cravings," he's saying when I'm calm enough to tune back in. "the fact that you have to buy whatever it is you're craving is an indirect consequence. "

"An awfully profitable indirect consequence. " I stab at a carrot.

"Yes, but see, that's the thing: the next big leap in the field is to skip straight to the buying part. We've been doing some promising work with what happens to brain chemistry when avid consumers watch successful commercials. "

"So you're trying to synthesize a drug that will make people go out and buy MaxWhite toothpaste. "

"Or a pair of NeoNikes. Or an H5. "

"Oh my G.o.d. "

He unleashes his Boy Genius grin. "Yeah. Pretty cool, huh?"

I report for my first day at CraveTech two weeks later. No one mentions that I'm dating the CEO, so I a.s.sume it hasn't gotten out. Still, I make a point of flirting back-and being overheard-when the cute young thing from Amazon-FedEx Kinko's makes her rounds.

I'd told Tom up front that I was applying for the job. He was encouraging, but made it clear he would keep his nose out of it and leave things to Avery. I never see Tom around the marketing department-he seems more interested in making things than selling them, which I find endearing. If only he weren't making such awful things.

I flop down on Sandra's futon, narrowly missing a cat.

She puts mugs of tea on the table while I fish an envelope out of my shoulder bag. When she sits down next to me I place the envelope in her hands.

"Information," I say, "and lots of it. " She takes the data card out of the envelope and peers at it as if she can actually make sense of what it contains.

"This is all of them?"

"All the formulas set to come out over the next six months. I've included a release schedule so you'll know which ones will be hitting the street first. "

"The counter-formula team is gonna love this. "

"They'd better. That little card represents a month of my life spent smiling at ba.n.a.lities and pretending to care about other people's kids. "

"So you're ready to quit. " She sounds relieved.

"I'd love to, but I don't think I can just yet. I still haven't found anything about this BeMod stuff. Tom keeps going on about it, but as far as I can tell it hasn't surfaced in R&D. "

"Isn't it weird that he seems so serious about BeMod but you can't find it at CraveTech?"

I laugh. "So you think he has some other lab where he's developing chemicals he can use to rule the world?"

"Maybe not rule the world. . . just make a s.h.i.+tload of money, which is close enough. "

"You're serious, aren't you?"

She s.h.i.+fts uncomfortably on the futon. "It just seems like he's been awfully specific about this BeMod stuff, and it hasn't turned up where you'd expect it. "

"So what are you suggesting?"

"I think it's time you broke up with him, and maybe quit CraveTech, too. "

"But if this BeMod stuff is in development somewhere, we'll need to get our hands on it and start on a counter-formula as soon as we can. "

"That's true. "

"And how do we do that if I don't keep seeing him?"

The cell leader finally overcomes the college buddy. "Just be careful. Don't get too attached to him. "

I pick up the data card, two gig worth of corporate espionage. "Does this seem like I'm too attached?"

I arrive at Tom's place in a foul mood. He doesn't notice. Dangerously oblivious.

We're still in the foyer when he starts in about BeMod.

"I read a fascinating study on endorphins today. Apparently you can stimulate-"

"Can we please talk about something other than biochemistry?" I drop my bag on the floor.

He looks surprised and a little hurt. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was boring you. "

"You're not boring me. " I reach for his hand as we head into the living room. "I just think we have more in common than an interest in BeMods and DC Comics. " I haven't gotten around to telling him I prefer Marvel.

He stops and pulls me back toward him. "I love you. "

"See, there you go-I love me, too. Something else we have in common. "

"Oh for G.o.d's sake," he sighs, collapsing on his down-filled couch. "I'm trying to be serious. "

"I know. " I sit down next to him. "I'm sorry. I just need a little more time. "

"Okay. A little more time," he says, kissing my forehead and then my neck.

It's so easy to kiss him back.

The next time I go to Sandra's, she has a data card for me.

"What's this?"

"A press release. It says CraveTech is voluntarily recalling all darts because internal studies have shown them to trigger heart attacks and strokes in a small but substantial segment of the population. We need you to send it out from the CraveTech network. "

I hand the card back to her. "the media will figure out it's bogus. "

"Not before the stock plummets. We're set up to trigger a small drop, and the release will do the rest. "

"You know I won't be able to go back there after I send it. They'll trace it to me. "

"I know. " I stare hard at her. She doesn't flinch.

"And I'll have to break up with Tom. "

"You need to do that anyway, Alex. It's been almost six months. That's too long. It's longer than you've dated anyone for real. "

"Sandra, sending this press release is just throwing a brick through a window. It's meaningless in the long run. They'll replace the window. The stock price will readjust. "

"But it will slow them down. "

"Sandra, if it isn't CraveTech, it'll be. . . "

"What?"

"Nothing. " I take the card.

"You'll send the release?"

"I'll send it. "

I put the few personal items that decorated my cubicle in a gym bag. I never had a picture of Tom on my desk. that would have been indiscreet.

The press release glows on my work station, one twitch away from every major news outlet and the most incendiary of the minor ones. If I had a picture of Tom, I might have stared at it for a while, maybe even whispered Sorry to it.

But I don't, so I just flick Send.

I've come to break up with him. "You're early," he says when he greets me at the door. "I've planned something special. " I follow him out to the deck.

"For what?"

"Our six-month anniversary. " there's a cloth-covered table and dining chairs, a silver champagne bucket on a stand. "In another twenty minutes there'll be a sunset, too. " He says this like he paid for it. "But, you know," he looks oddly apologetic, "you're early. "

"Tom, I'm sorry. . . we're not going to have a six-month anniversary. "

I expect anything from him but the crooked Boy Genius smile I love so much. "this isn't about the press release, is it?"

I sit, a little inelegantly in my surprise.

"What press release?"

He laughs. "this conversation will probably be less awkward if I just tell you I had all your CraveTech e-mails routed to me before they went out. "