Genius Ch 05

My thanks to MormonJack for edits and crits.

Chapter 5

Big news got bought.

Avery never sends me work texts, so I knew this was important.

By whom?

Dunno,

followed by a biting lip emoji. Then,

CU PM?

That perks my interest, not in an erotic way. All I know about her work is that it's space related, a stealth startup. She spent her first few years after grad school at NASA. Startups get bought, of course, but how could they not tell the employees what company bought them?

I answer her in the affirmative, of course. But later she sends me crying emojis and

35

and soon I hear the front door open, some noise I can't identify, and her steps on the stairs. The steps are slow, trudging rather than eager. I save the code I've been writing and go to meet her. At the top of the stairs she throws herself in my arms, crying. I've seen tears in her eyes before, but this is the first time they weren't tears of joy. She's more upset than I've ever seen her. And she's in work clothes: jeans, sweater, and modest.

She tells me she's been laid off, the entire company except for a few execs. The noise I heard was of boxes being brought in. They made her clean out her desk right then. She still didn't know why, no one did except the top management, who said they were bound by some new NDA.

It's all totally nuts, even for the tech economy. A few long hugs and some oolong tea (too early for tequila) and her normal, bright, happy personality returns, mostly. We discuss her options. She's a bit worried but I know she'll start getting offers within hours of the news coming out. I ask how her new Transporter is coming along. That completes the cure. She begins to tell me about the technical problems she's corrected, a couple of new features she's considering, more details than I can keep up with, and soon she's giving me a good-bye kiss and is off, headed for home and her workshop.

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

Before I resumed my investigation into my slanderers I did a quick search for who had bought Avery's startup. Nothing in the media yet, but legal notices in the Bahamas led me to a shell company, only days old, that mentioned down in the fine print, because it had to somewhere, its interest in space tech. Legal tracking software soon found its latest purchase, yes, Avery's company. I was not surprised, though I was appalled at the sleaziness of the whole charade, crypto DAOs, multiple exchange transactions, shells within shells. What did surprise me was the trail's terminal node up the food chain. At the top was Corp. C.

I had to sit back for a moment to absorb that last bit. Corp. C had just bought a space startup, exerting no small effort to disguise the purchase. Corp. C had its fingers in a lot of pies, but shied away from hardware. They'd tried a phone once, early on, then some kind of Internet high speed connection scheme with drones, all for nothing. But never anything close to space. And then to just shut it down?

There was only one answer. It was a paranoid one, but even paranoids have enemies. Somehow Corp. C had found a connection between Avery and me. It probably didn't even know what it had found, or even us as individuals. From its perspective there was this obscure database B2B consultancy that had some slight association with a small space tech startup and that was enough for it to attack. It had probably bought the company just to get unrestrained access to the company's files. The employees were walked out before anyone had a chance to delete something that could give the Corp. C security team a clue.

Files that they thought might give them a lead on me. Avery and her coworkers were just collateral damage.

Now it was personal. Now it was war.

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

I didn't have to knock on the door or search for the doorbell. I knew she'd taken notice and ID'd me even before I'd stepped on the property, a grand old Victorian on a sedate block. The substantial front door opened to reveal a very handsome young man in a plush robe.

"Mistress Greta is waiting for you, sir," he announced as he let me in. I followed him down the hallway, crowded with old art above the ornate wainscoting. "She's in the conservatory."

Back past a small kitchen he led me to a glass door, slid it open, and beckoned me through. At a glass and steel table Greta, in a colorful robe, sat amid screens and tall plants. The room smelled fresh and humid. She came around the table to greet me with a quick hug. "Good evening." She motioned me to a sitting area to one side where I took an armchair.

"I hope you've been doing well," she said after taking the opposite chair.

"Quite well. Thanks for seeing me."

"You're always welcome, isn't he, Boy?" She held out her arm.

The young man came to her, kissed her hand, and knelt at her side with a hand on her knee. He'd removed the robe. He wore now only underpants, whitey-tighties. Plus a white collar and cuffs,

a la

Chippendales-- one of which, given his trim and muscular form, he could have been.

"Yes, Mistress," he replied. Then, turning to me: "We are eternally grateful." She ran her fingers through his hair, as if with a child or a pet.

"Can I get you some refreshments?" Before I could refuse she added, "I know. There's something you must try." To him: "The 2018."

"Yes, Mistress." He rose and left the room.

"There's a Brunello, just released, from that little vineyard near Siena I bought into. I'd like to know what you think."

"Always happy to help."

She smiled at the tiny joke. "And what brings you here?"

With Greta there was no need to delay business. "I have a proposition you might find interesting."

She lifted an eyebrow. "Another favor?"

Greta had provided the initial resources that had kickstarted my consultancy. "A cooperative venture this time. I think you'll find it as advantageous as that agreement." In return for her help I'd found the young man she was enjoying, using the same technology with which I'd found Avery.

She pursed her lips, nodded. "I'm listening."

"Canary1 is gone." Greta understood my nomenclature. "I strongly suspect Corporation C."

"If I remember your explanation correctly, that's a Canary's purpose. Why you named them after the proverbial coal mine mascot."

"That's one of their purposes. And it's not the first I've lost. But it's trained to leave... let's call them crumbs for me to follow. I apologize for mixing metaphors. They led to C. And another... avenue of investigation has found... let's call it dirty work, that has led me to believe that C has pilfered one or two techniques we didn't think they were capable of mastering."

"That is concerning." Greta was the EVP of security at Corporation Y. She didn't like C any more than I did.

Her boy returned with a tray. He showed me the bottle's label, then opened and poured out three glasses. He handed them out and took his place.

I swirled mine and sniffed. Greta was crazy about super Tuscans, chiantis, and other bold varieties. This was no exception. I sipped while they watched. "I like the cherry overtone." I sniffed again and set it down. I'd also formerly been enamored with big Italian reds but had moved on to subtler varieties, Syrahs and some of the Pinot Noirs. "I'd like to let it breathe a little. It might be a bit young."

"You see, Mistress. That's what I thought."

Greta nodded, continuing to sip her glass. "You may both be right. I may be a bit impatient."

I took that as a timely segue to explain the situation re C, including the dangers that implied, and especially the opportunity it presented. Those crumbs I'd mentioned were more like giant layer cakes with extra-thick frosting.

"Hmm. You know we have strict prohibitions at Y about hacking. Just not worth the bad PR."

I'm not a hacker, at least in the sense that I don't break into systems. But I'm very good at writing algorithms that can persuade other algorithms, the ones that control Corp. C's HR databases for example, to voluntarily provide all publicly available information on their employees. That's all I needed. "Not what I'm suggesting." She sipped. I took my glass and tried again. It was getting better. "I'm suggesting we use my engine."

"On C?"

I nodded.

"Selected employees? Upper management?"

"On all employees."

Greta almost spit out her wine. "You can't be-- you

are

serious."

"That's why I need your help." I like to pretend that my engine is a silky smooth executive limo that floats me and my clients from ignorance to knowledge, but underneath it's more a bespoke V-twelve turbo hybrid running on nitro. It requires a vast amount of compute time, as many deep transformer learning algorithms do, but even more so. To AWS I'm a backend database shop (trying to keep things looking as dull as possible) with maybe 200 employees. But Greta knows better. "I've improved the engine quite a bit since the last time we worked together. I've also added some features to take advantage of the common geographies and demographies. Still, it's going to take a lot."

"And the result?"

"My models predict 30 to 40% member attrition within the first four months." Corp. C liked to call its employees members.

"Because..." from Boy.

"If you're unhappy in your situation and you're suddenly offered the answer to your dreams..." I gestured to indicate him and his mistress.

"Let me think about this," she said. "Stand."

The young man stood. She pulled down his shorts and took his cock and balls in her hands. He hissed. She proceeded to suck him to hardness while he struggled between falling over and jumping to the ceiling. "This does Y some good, I see that," she said, taking a short break from her oral activity, "but we are not direct competitors with C."

"Let me send you white papers on the new tech it appears C has. Password guessers using generative AI, some zero-day malware-- I can't believe they developed it-- likely stolen."

"Hmm." She resumed her fellatio. The boy showed open-mouthed pleasure. Then, "Still, it seems to me that you will be benefitting much more than Y." Back briefly to torturing her slave. "I mean, this effort you're proposing could do Y some good, but for you it's almost existential." She had him up on his toes now. It looked like she was scratching up and down his cock with her teeth. With one hand on her chair he kept a precarious balance; with the other he moved to take her head but apparently wasn't permitted to touch her.

"You're not concerned that C may have stolen the tech from Y?"

Her lips briefly left his cock. "Unlikely."

"If they haven't yet, they'll try to steal something. And if you're looking for a sweetener..."

She grinned on the cock then released it. He collapsed to his knees. "I'm really enjoying torturing him."

"That's plain."

"I haven't let him come in-- how many days, love?"

"Twelve, Mistress." He had to catch his breath. "And a half."

"We're trying to last two weeks."

He grimaced. "I-- I wish-- thank you, Mistress."

She faced me and put her hands primly in her lap, as if she were a schoolteacher who'd just finished helping one student and I was the next in line.

I continued. "In an initiative of the size I'm proposing, the marginal GPU load for a single, specialized search will be minimal. So you could..." I waved again at the happy couple.

"But your dataset is limited. C has 120K employees. I thought you needed millions."

"As I mentioned, the demographics are very favorable. It is, as they say, a target-rich environment. Think of it as a focused, pruned model. I can't guarantee a hit, but it's quite likely."

"Hmm. We have been considering adding to the household."

I wasn't sure whether she meant she'd discussed the idea with her slave or was just using the royal we.

"Mistress--"

She waved him silent. "My slave, as you've witnessed, is very fond of fellatio. I've been thinking it would be a good experience for him to learn how to perform it, perhaps on a new slave. What do you think?"

I took another taste of the wine. "It's definitely benefitting from breathing. It's good now and in a year or two it could be great." I finished the glass. "But it doesn't mean I need to become a vintner to appreciate it."

Greta remained undaunted. "Still, wouldn't you benefit from a behind-the-scenes tour, perhaps even a working vacation? As an adventure, you could call it. Boy, offer to give our good friend a blow job."

He looked stricken. It took a moment for him to compose himself. She put a hand to the back of his neck. "Sir, would you enjoy having this slave, um, perform, um, fellatio. Uh, on you?"

"Thank you for your kind offer... Boy." I realized that although I'd visited several times I didn't know his name. It was probably not an oversight. He might not have one here. "But I'm good."

"Really? You'll be his first. You might enjoy that."

And, no doubt, Greta would enjoy watching. Her voyeur streak was as strong as the exhibitionist streak she'd just demonstrated.

"Seriously. Avery." It was partly an excuse, but Avery had spent the night with me.

"Ah. I see. You're becoming attached to your target. As it seems I am becoming to mine." She caressed her young man. "Perhaps your engine is actually

too

good. Very well. Let me see what I can do. This will take some effort."

"Thanks."

"Make my target non-gender specific. We'll take the best fit, male or female."

"That's easy."

"And let me send you a case or two," she added, gesturing toward the wine, "To put away."

"You are too generous."

"What are friends for?"

He walked me out. "Thank you, sir," he said at the door. "I appreciate your... discretion and I hope you weren't offended."

"No problem. I prefer girls too."

He seemed to glance around briefly. "But please do not mistake me, sir. If Mistress had ordered it and you agreed, I would have... performed... that service for you."

"I understand your devotion to her."

He smiled a very knowing smile, for a second letting his slave persona fall away. "I'm sure you do. All too well."

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

Greta's reply arrived in a few days as an announcement in my in-box. Corp. Y proudly revealed their latest server farm, a monster at almost five million square feet. A bit of steganographic analysis found her message in the attached photograph of the site in Iceland, encrypted with the one-time pad we'd set up a while ago for our first agreement.

Two weeks while we're commissioning.

That would be enough, barely.

I uploaded my engine into the new Y cloud and launched the job.

The results, beginning to appear within a week, were amazing even to me. First came scuttlebutt from industry social media sites about a possible epidemic at Corp. C, because of a sudden spike in time off notifications. One tech rumor site called it a "stealth layoff". (FYI, C had that stupid "unlimited paid time off" policy, common in high tech, ostensibly another perk: unlimited vacation! But really it meant no time off because no one else is using it and your team depends on you, so PTO is a sign of lack of commitment.)

Then there appeared a TikTok of two women at C who "found each other", instant soulmates who were going to homestead together in Wyoming; a guy formerly in C Facilities crying on YouTube as he told the world about his new girlfriend who runs a dog pound and they're doing a dog rescue startup; Facebook posts of the same ilk; LinkedIn resignation announcements mentioning "dream job", "love at first sight", "newfound inspirational partner", "spiritual fulfillment"; and so on. I felt really good about helping so many people to leave a sick organization and get their lives together. And I felt especially good about sticking it to C.

Between the resignations, the personal leaves, the ones finally taking C up on the unlimited part of the vacation policy, and sudden early retirements, C was down 35% in a month, at least at the corporate division. The stock price dropped about the same percentage. There were even some firings. Apparently, the instant soulmates of some of the employees-- oops,

members--

were already involved with certain other members, and there were some heated confrontations. C's sleazy chatbot initiative had to be put on hold.

C's corporate security department was particularly hard hit. Honestly, I didn't aim especially at them. But nerds get as horny as anyone else, they just haven't yet figured out the algorithm that can get them laid. And digital security attracts the nerdiest of nerds. Boil down ten nerds and you'll get one cryptologist. It was a

very

target-rich environment. Needless to say, attacks on my nodes dropped to zero.

The cases of Brunello arrived from Greta. With them came a bottle of fifty-year-old Highland Park and a note:

Thanks. Well done. We love her.

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

Avery and I watch the progress of the analysis. I can't keep anything from her. She's spending too much time here and has her own unique ways of figuring out what's going on. A glance at a screenful of data can tell her more than I can figure out with a half hour of analysis. One evening while we're sharing my wide, soft sofa with old Star Trek episodes on the big screen, she says, "So I have this old friend, we worked together when I was interning at NASA. And she works for C, or used to, actually. She just quit. She's joining some kind of commune or something in BC. Just like that." She looks straight at me. "You did that, didn't you?"

"Maybe," I answer. Probably I did, but it's all statistical. No one can prove I did anything. Not at C, not anywhere. But the sword cuts both ways: neither can I.

"I mean, she seems really happy. She definitely wasn't at C." She gives me a peck on the cheek. "Now she's almost as happy as me. Thanks."

I pull her closer. We resume watching the crew of the Enterprise confront hokey aliens.

"I used to have this fantasy of blowing Mr. Spock."

"I'm sure he would have found that experience "fascinating." But 'used too'? Not any more?"

"Now I have you. Maybe Mr. Spock is a tiny bit smarter, but you..." She kisses my hand and puts it on her crotch. "You have this superpower."

I start to protest but she puts a finger on my lips and gives me another modest peck on the cheek. Now her hand has transferred to my crotch. "What kind of blow job are you in the mood for tonight?"