Alpha Incorporated

III - i TO SAVE A BROTHER'S LIFE

Isabella is still fuming. She is shaking as she rides the electric shuttle across the manicured grounds of the Alpha compound. If she were working in an office complex, she would take the elevator up to the executive suites if ever they had the occasion to meet with the higher-ups. Not here, not in Angelo's world. At Alpha, employees are scooted around between buildings in tiny buses, trains and trolleys, past the drought-exempt lawns, ponds and gardens.

Thankfully, she is the only one in the cabin of the shuttle train. It is okay for her to cry. In this high-tech world of wonders, where it is possible to construct or deconstruct anything, a tear on a girl's cheek shouldn't be seen as anything unusual. But no one sees her cry, no one asks what is wrong. No one questions the environment at Alpha.

She needs to talk, but to whom? Lucy, perhaps, but Lucy is the one, who after all, put her up to this. Isabella wonders if Lucy knew what would happen. Does she know how dirty, how defiled, how used, she feels? Isabella tries to convince herself that this was nothing more than a failed pick-up attempt. She thinks of how many times she has had to fend off the douche-bags at the campus pubs. It's not easy, dealing with self-absorbed assholes who treat a girl like she is put on the planet for their pleasure. Her standard douche-bag removal technique involves the old switcheroo, introducing Mr. Douche to one of the other girls at the bar who loves the attention that the guy gives her, then she makes her escape. And when she would finally shut down the asshole pestering her, she would still feel good about herself. Not today. Nothing feels good. She wants to shower, to wash him off of her, as though it is her fault she is dirty. And they never even touched.

Claude. She needs to confide in her brother Claude. Isabella looks up the number of his new cell phone, and flips him a text message. Her afternoon is supposed to involve another day of reading and replying to Twitter posts about how Alpha is either destroying the world or saving it, and it is the Communication Intern's role to sort through these, dismiss the nut jobs, retweet the compliments, and flag the serious ones for someone with a big girl job to deal with. All the posts today are about the elusive Vincent Duke, and what happened to the most eligible bachelor in the world. Since no one knows when she is supposed to return from her meeting at 1A, she is certain that she can slip in a quick visit with her brother. Risky for an intern, perhaps, but right now, she isn't overly concerned about impressing her employer.

By the time the shuttle has rounded the bend and is heading towards Admin 2B, she has decided it is not 2B she wants, and stays on the shuttle for 4A, the Human Resources building, where her brother, Claude, is waiting to meet with his executioner.

***

Isabella finds Claude in the waiting room on the second floor of the HR building. He has been meeting with Alpha's exit officer, a Mr. Fryer, whose role it is to see a trouble-free passage into the next life. He performs the last rights and insures that Alpha is clear of any wrongful dismissal issues. Mr. Fryer, who it appears has just been parachuted into this role, seems like a really nice man, Claude tells her as they sit together in the lobby. A security guard is blocking the door and listens to their conversation.

Isabella, politely, asks the security guard if she can have a few words with Claude. His reply, buried deep under his accent, sounds a little sarcastic. "Look, señor, here's your sister."

Claude is sitting in front of a low table, and Isabella moves to take the club chair facing him. As she sits, the office door behind her opens and a man's voice says: "Manuel, can I have a word with you?"

Isabella turns to look at the speaker. Dressed rather formally for Silicon Valley, in a classic sports jacket and tie, he is obviously not a techie, nor is he dressed hip enough to be on the creative side of things. Plus he is clean shaven and caucasian, both rarities in Silicon Valley. He appears professional, mature, yet young enough to spark what Isabella might describe as a flicker of possibility. That may have something to do with his perfect features, dirty blond hair that, although combed down, is clearly a mess waiting to happen. The thick, dark frame of his glasses accentuate the sophistication of the man. This must be Mr. Fryer, the Human Resources officer assigned to Claude's case.