The Mood Ring pinged and the humming faded to a low buzz. “Ah!” E eagerly brought the thing close to his face to get a better look at the tiny digital screen that displayed the Mood Ring’s readings. It reminded me of the screen on a calculator watch. “Hmm. It says you’re stressed.” He looked up, his dark eyes liquid and concerned. “Are you stressed, Anna?”
I tried to stop my heart with my mind. “Good stress will still read as stress,” I finally offered. “I am keyed up for the presentation.”
E nodded sagely. “True. True. I should adjust the calibration for that.” He fiddled with the device for another moment, then shrugged and tossed it to one of the hovering R&D guys. The developer caught it with a kind of fumbling panic, like E had thrown a baby at him.
More henches had gathered in the lobby while we talked. Several administrators buzzed around carrying tablets and paperwork, and a half-dozen Meat, all wearing suits and earpieces, loitered about, exhibiting a look I liked to think of as semiformal murderer. One of them, with a tattoo on his neck of a jaguar, had been working with E for some time. I accidentally caught his eye and he winked at me. I turned away too quickly and a little bit of coffee leapt out of the lid of the travel mug, splashing my shirt. My head throbbed.
E’s phone chirped, and he became even more animated. “Our chariots await!” He strode out the front doors, flanked by his bodyguards, and the rest of us followed.
Just outside the doors a long, midnight-blue supercar waited, purring like a contented tiger. E climbed in along with the stony-faced R&D guy holding the Mood Ring and Jaguar Neck. The rest of us piled into the pair of SUVs parked just behind. I chose the car with the most admins, hoping it would be quieter, but as soon as the vehicle started to move the interior cabin lit up, painfully bright. A pair of screens, one for each row of seats, sprung to life, displaying E’s grinning, ridiculously pleased face. The video bounced; he was clearly recording with his cell phone. It made me seasick.
“Hey, team, it’s the big day!” The sound in the car was tinny and too loud. I moaned audibly. One of the researchers sitting next to me—a woman with red hair in a tight bun—giggled quietly. “Thanks to all of you for being a part of this. Now, everything’s going to be pretty straightforward once we get there; it’s a teleconference being broadcast live, so there won’t actually be anyone in the space but us and the camera crew.” The image shook violently; he was doing excited jazz hands. “It’s going to be big!”
Then the screens went dark and I sighed in relief. I spent the rest of the trip chugging my coffee and dabbing in vain at the small stain on my shirt.
The press conference was scheduled to take place in one of the boardrooms of a nearby hotel. When we arrived, the camera crew was already there, going through the last of their preparations. E hollered with delight as soon as he strode through the door, startling all three of them badly.
The boardroom was considerably more well appointed and well lit than anything in the gray-and-beige Electrophorous offices. There was a long window along one side of the room, which had E very excited, chattering on about how good his skin looked under natural light, while one of the crew, a young Indian woman with a braid that went down to her hips, fitted him with a wireless mic. The set, such as it was, included a long, dark wooden desk for E to sit behind and an oversize forest-green armchair. The arms were carved into elaborate curls and made the seat seem a little like a throne. E sat down and squealed in delight.
In addition to the woman with the mic, there was a stocky camera operator who was already strapped into a stabilizing rig and a third man—an aging Irish punk with a side shave—handling a pair of laptops and a seemingly ridiculous number of cables, who I vaguely inferred was in charge of the broadcasting part of whatever was about to happen. I thought I might have recognized the punk from the Temp Agency, but not well enough to say hello.
Once E was wired for sound, the pair of techs from R&D busied about setting up the Mood Ring on the desk in front of him, placing it on an elaborate stand.
“Move it a little to the right, guys?” the camera operator instructed, face contorted in a squint as he looked into the camera.
The researchers looked miffed as they carefully shifted everything over, a piece at a time.
“We want to see your boss, after all,” he added, and one of the lab techs scowled.
E smiled expansively. “Can’t have anything obscuring this visage, eh?” He gestured toward his high-cheekboned face. I thought he might have been wearing a little bit of eyeliner for the occasion. I had to admit it suited him.
While the R&D folks continued to bustle in front of E and the Meat arranged themselves around the room—a pair at the door and the other four behind the boss—I felt vaguely useless. I wandered over to the woman with the braid.
“So, uh, where do you want me?” I asked, hoping she had some sense of what the hell was about to happen.
She looked up at me and then down at a call sheet. “Anna, right?”
“That’s me.”
“Great. E wants you to stand with his bodyguards as part of the entourage. He felt it was imbalanced to have ‘only men standing behind him’ when he ‘considers himself a progressive employer.’” She did a performative this-guy-is-an-idiot voice when delivering direct quotes.
I felt foolish for thinking I’d earned this. “I’m one of the booth babes.” The sour truth bloomed in my stomach.
She looked at me sympathetically. “That’s how it goes.” She gestured for me to join E and the Meat behind the desk; the pair from R&D had finished their work and taken their own place to E’s left, directly behind the Mood Ring. She told me to stand on E’s immediate right.
I took my place, shifting back and forth according to the camera operator’s instructions until I was in exactly the right place. I tried to look engaged and attentive, but the wind had been knocked out of my sails.
“Isn’t this great, Anna?” E stage-whispered to me. He sounded like he was vibrating with glee.
I smothered the urge to stage-whisper, No. “Yeah, really impressive. This is a great space.”
He nodded. “I made a good choice.” His head suddenly swiveled and he fixed me with a look for a moment. “Anna, thank you for getting Andre patched up the other night.”
“Oh, it was no trouble.” My voice was equal parts syrup and poison.
E only heard the sweetness. He smiled and settled back into his chair, facing the camera. I wondered what it must be like to be so mediocre and so confident at the same time.
“You handled it well. Really kept your composure.” He nodded to himself.
“Thanks, E. It means a lot to hear that from you.” I tried to tamp down my bristling annoyance and sound as pure and genuine as I could. Between his compliment and the press conference, I was beginning to nurse a feeble hope that maybe, just maybe, that gratitude he was feeling might blossom into a full-time position. Maybe one day I would be able to visit a dentist again.
“Dare to dream,” I accidentally said out loud.
Luckily, at the same time the punk with the laptops suddenly stood up. “Everyone, quiet for a moment. We’re going live in just a couple minutes. Mr. Eel, I have us tapped into the municipal feeds covering today’s transit debate; we’re ready to cut in at any time.”