Concrete Chaos

by Earle, Michael-Scott

  "But... I'm not without a special place in my heart for my only child." She popped another gray oyster in her mouth and dabbed her lips with a white, cloth napkin.

  "Here it is," I sighed and debated eating an oyster. I had once loved to eat them by the bucketful with Dad and Mom.

  Back when he was still alive.

  Back when her heart was still alive.

  "Here what is?"

  "You didn't ask me here because of your birthday. I haven't heard from you in almost ten months."

  "You don't even bother to call me. Don't be a hypocrite."

  "Because I get tired of talking to your assistants about how busy you are and how you'll call me back when you have time. It gets fucking old." I crossed my arms and felt movement behind me. Sure enough, a young man wearing a pristine white chef's uniform stepped into my vision with our waiter.

  "Good evening, ladies. I'd like to give you a complementary bottle of our finest white." He nodded to our waiter, and the man set wine glasses on the table.

  "I am impressed with these oysters." My mother smiled sweetly while the chef uncorked the wine.

  "Thank you, Ms. Zato. That is a compliment I hope you will give when you taste the main dish. I am preparing both entrees myself."

  The chef poured the wine, and I noticed that the Sexy Man Muffin at the other table had crossed his arms in his chair. It looked like daggers were about to come out of his beautiful blue eyes. How weird was it for an Asian man to have blue eyes? He must be wearing contacts or have had them augmented.

  "Salads will be on the way. If you need anything else, please ask." The chef smiled at Mom and me before he departed. The waiter did a complicated napkin wrap around the bottle and then placed it into a standing silver bucket of ice.

  "You are a senior this year, yes?" my mom asked.

  "No, junior." I couldn't believe she didn't know what year in school I was. No, scratch that, I found it totally believable that she didn't know.

  It just fucking hurt.

  "But you just finished midterms?" She took another bite of oyster and then washed it down with a mouthful of wine.

  "Yessssss...." I reached for the wine and also took a sip. I wasn't old enough to be drinking the stuff legally, but that had never mattered to me. I doubted Mom even knew how old I was.

  "Where are you living now?"

  "I'm still in East San Jose. Why are you asking me these questions?" The waiter quickly set down two salad bowls and asked us if we wanted pepper. Mom waved him away, and he sighed in relief.

  "There is nowhere decent to live in East San Jose. Do they even have houses there anymore? I thought it was all storage yards, factories, and crumbling buildings."

  "There are places to live there." I choked on the wine. I didn't want to tell her that I actually lived in a crumbling building that used to be a two-car mechanic bay located next to a cardboard factory.

  "Well, your dress is wrinkled, so I doubt you are taking care of yourself." She impaled a yellow tomato and part of the green salad, raised the fork from the bowl, inspected the combination carefully, and then put it in her mouth.

  "Mom, I wear a school uniform all day. The last time I wore this was the last time we had dinner."

  "So you only have your uniform and this dress to wear?" Her voice couldn't contain any more sarcasm.

  "No, I have other clothes."

  "I know it has been a while since we spoke, which is your fault, but I'm willing to forgive you. It is obvious that you need my help right now." She shook her head, and I felt the rage boil in my stomach. I noticed that our waiter put salad bowls down on the table with the Man I Wanted to Marry, but none of them even looked at the food. Their conversation seemed even more intense than the shit my mother was trying to lay on me.

  I should just walk over there, wrap my arms around his neck or shoulders, and just say something like: 'See? Even sexy people like us have arguments with dickbag motherfuckers. Now let's go somewhere more private and-'

  "Are you listening to me?" She turned her head slightly to see what I was looking at, but she didn't spin enough to spy the object of my endless fantasies.

  "Yes. Kind of. Sorry, I just smell some bullshit coming up, and I'm wondering if I even needed to finish eating this or if you were just going to squat up here and shit on my plate." I sighed and regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth.

  This was what happened last time we had dinner. I'd let my emotions get the best of me and told the woman to take her chopsticks and shove them up her vagina until her tonsils got pregnant.

  It was not my best moment, but my friends laughed hysterically when I told them the story.

  "Really, Suzanne? On my birthday? You are going to say that shit to me tonight after I invite you to dinner?" I couldn't tell if the woman was more angry, sad, or shocked.

  "You tell me. Where are you going with this conversation? You don't care about my school, my motorcycle, or anything else I am doing with my life. What do you want from me?" This was good. Stacey Jones had called me earlier this evening and told me that I shouldn't let my 'Demon Mother' push me around at the dinner.

  "Well, I was going to offer you a job, but I'm beginning to think that I'm wasting my time here." She set down her fork into the half-eaten salad and then pushed the bowl away.

  "A job? You want to offer me a job? This is hilarious." I shook my head and looked down at my salad. I wasn't hungry.

  "Yes. This is somewhat of an urgent matter, and not for the ears of these commoners." She leaned forward slightly and the volume of her voice lowered to a whisper. "We are having some pod quality issues that-" she stopped her hushed word mid-syllable and looked up from my eyes. The owner of the restaurant had returned to our table with his waiter sidekick, and they both laid out our food. The chef explained each dish with long, boring words that I could tell my mother cared nothing about. However, she did smile and nod. I guessed that she at least respected this man enough not to belittle him to his face.

  The two finally left, and my mother turned back to me.

  "I've been unable to find where the issue is."

  "Is it hardware or software?"

  "Software. Some sort of virus. My architects tell me they can't figure out how it is getting there."

  "What does the virus do?" I asked the question, but I already felt my stomach knotting. I could guess what it did by the urgency of this whole situation. Now it was making sense that she wanted to see me suddenly.

  "It makes a backdoor for someone to control the pods." Her voice was quieter than a whisper.

  "Who?" It was as I suspected, and this was horrific news. Zato Industries, Inc. manufactured almost eighty percent of the self-driving cars on the road. If word got out that the system could be hacked, it would be a disruption larger than fucking fuck.

  "We can't figure it out. It isn't a consistent door. It is as if the virus is organically making one. Even when we wipe the BIOS and reformat the drive system, the thing comes back in a few minutes."

  "Did they check the source code? It sounds like an architect is sabotaging it."

  "We've investigated that. No, they think it is being inserted in one of our factories."

  "Through firmware?" The idea sounded weird to me, but I guessed that it was possible.

  "We think so, but we haven't been able to identify which piece." She looked at her stack of clear baby eels and took a small bite. I grabbed my fork and did the same with my fish. The taste made my spine melt with pleasure, and I couldn't help but moan softly. Thankfully, my mother didn't hear me appreciate the meal.

  I was guessing that she did enjoy the food, because she took half a dozen bites of the eel before setting her fork down and continuing the conversation.

  "There has been talk of a hostile takeover. Some of the board members want to replace me." She didn't look at me when she spoke.

  "But you still own most of it? Can they replace you?" I wasn't too familiar with how shareholder ownership went, but I knew that
my parents had founded the company before I was born and that my mother was still the majority holder.

  "Yes and yes. I don't have all night to explain their strategy to you," she spat the words and then seemed to realize that she was being mean to me. Her eyes softened a bit, and she leaned forward more on the table. "If this goes public, or if whoever is doing this decides to actually hack the autopilots of these cars, then I could lose everything I've worked for."

  "Annnndddd... people could die?" I smirked at her.

  "Yes, yes, whatever." She waved her hand dismissively. "It would ruin me, you, and your father's name."

  "To be fair, Mom, I would hardly be ruined. I'm doing just fine right now."

  "Living in your slum apartment in fucking East San Jose, riding a gasoline motorcycle twice as old as your mother, and pursuing a dead-end major is not 'doing just fine,' Suzanne." Her words were laced with hostility.

  "Fuck you, Mom. I don't need this shit." I pushed my plate away and noticed that my movement caught the attention of Sir Swankalicious the Sexy.

  "Wait." Her hand lashed out like a snake and caught my wrist. "I'm sorry, Suzanne, I'm a little stressed at the moment." She smiled and sighed. "I had no intention of belittling you tonight. I need your help. You are the only person in this world I can trust. Please don't leave."

  "Fine." I sat back down and tore my eyes away from the man behind my mother.

  "Listen, I know we haven't been close since... your father passed."

  "No shit." I crossed my arms over my breasts. The position let me squeeze my chest and keep the emotions down in my stomach. Where those fuckers belonged.

  "I know I've been hard on you. We haven't agreed on what you wanted from your life. I understand why you moved out. I've always loved you. I just want the best for you. After all, I did pay for school didn't I?"

  "Yeah…. Because Dad already had the trust set up." I sighed and squeezed my chest tighter. Yep. I was going to need a fuck ton of ice cream tonight. Damn her. "Get to the point. What do you want me to do and what are you going to pay me?"

  "I want you to visit all my factories for a few months and audit the assembly process. I'll give you a team of dataheads to manage. You'll find out where the issue is and report back to me."

  "Why do you need me? Couldn't one of your VPs or directors do this?"

  "I don't trust any of them."

  "Imagine that." I wanted to laugh but controlled myself. The woman must have caused this situation after years of neglecting her people. Or maybe I was wrong, and she treated her employees better than her own daughter. I wouldn't have been surprised to find that true either.

  "You're the only one I trust right now. When you find out who is doing this, I'll need you to inform me discreetly. Then I'll be able to figure out who is at the source of the attack and destroy them." She smiled like a small, pretty hyena.

  "Won't these dataheads leak the news?"

  "Not as long as you are managing them correctly."

  "What makes you think I am even qualified to do this investigation? I'm not familiar at all with car manufacturing, or their autopilot systems."

  "You developed your own AI from scratch, and you rebuilt your father's motorcycle. It is what you are studying at the best technological university in the world." She shrugged.

  "Didn't you just tell me how useless my majors were? What the fuck is wrong with you?" I huffed and thought about leaving again. This was so like her.

  "Let's talk about title and compensation," Katsumi changed the subject. "I'll make you VP of Quality Control. Your salary will be eight hundred and seventy thousand a year and stock options equaling another two million." My jaw dropped at the amount, and the tiny mice on wheels in my head sprinted. If I was lucky and used my looks, I might get an entry-level tech position in a Bay Area firm that would pay me two hundred a year. But that was if I was lucky. And I meant the 'fuck some CEO on his office couch every week and then play all nice with his wife at company parties' kind of luck. No thank you.

  "After this project, you can keep the title and the payroll and then go back to school. I don't know how much motorcycles cost, but I imagine you could afford a new one every month, and a nice home to keep them in." She pushed away her half-eaten plate, and I looked down at my own. Somehow the fish had disappeared, and the pink abalone was almost gone. I shoveled the rest of the meal into my mouth and considered the woman's offer. It sounded too good to be true, but my pussy was wet, and I couldn't tell if it was because of the Tasty Treat at the other table or because I was imagining myself rolling naked on a mattress made of cash.

  "Where are the factories?" I felt like I should have known the answer, but I didn't.

  "We have one in Mexico and two in China. There is a last one in Japan, but they only supply battery- and circuit-board power amps. We doubt they are the source of the issue." The waiter cleared our plates and refilled our waters. My mother waited until he had left before she spoke again. "If the issue is in the first location, then the job will be over quickly. Might only be a month. Then you can go back to doing whatever that foolish motorcycle racing is that you do."

  I clenched my teeth and thought about correcting her assumptions about my hobby, but I forced myself to relax. I held all the cards now. Fuck it; I could go to a reporter right now, and her career would be ruined.

  Or I could take the money, do the job, and spend the rest of my days riding.

  "I'll need time to think about it." Wasn't that the standard answer you were supposed to give when someone offered you a job?

  "Excellent. Let me know by Tuesday morning." She waved at our waiter, and he rushed to her side. "I am in a festive mood tonight. We'd like the try every one of your desserts, and bring out some brandy."

  "Yes, Ms. Zato." He quickly walked behind me to the kitchen to obey her command.

  It seemed like everyone ended up obeying my mother, sooner or later.

  Chapter 4

  I stepped out into the cold night air and shivered for a few seconds. Then I realized my riding leathers were unzipped to my waist, and my black bra had been exposed to the few people I'd walked by in the lobby of the restaurant. Oh fucking well. I had too much shit on my mind.

  My mom had left fifteen minutes earlier after we'd tried a few bites of each dessert and talked a bit more about the job. For a brief second during the treats, I'd almost felt like I did back when Dad, she, and I had done our weekend dessert marathons. We used to play board games, watch movies, and eat as much as we could before we got tummy aches. It was one of the few fond memories I had of the woman. But before my memories could fully digest the feelings, her phone had buzzed, and she'd turned into the dragon business maven that controlled the world's largest technology company.

  Then she reminded me about her offer and departed.

  "How did it go?" A thick, Russian-sounding accent cut through the air and grabbed my attention.

  "You were sitting there with me." Another voice spoke, and I turned my head to the right of the restaurant door. I saw the back of the giant, scar-faced monster that had accompanied the stupidly sexy Asian man at the restaurant. I guessed the voice that just answered was my Wet Dream, but I couldn't see him past his wide friend.

  "So it went terrible," the Russian said.

  "Yes. Let's get home."

  "Do you think they will try tonight?"

  "I think we need to get home quickly. How soon till the car gets here?" my sex toy asked. I took a small step closer to the Russian and tried to overhear their conversation a little better. There were four valets talking to each other at the podium near my bike, but they stood a little too far away to hear the conversation, or to give us any attention.

  "It isn't answering." The Russian raised his giant left arm and looked at the watch on his wrist.

  "Looks like they are planning on doing it tonight." I heard a sigh.

  "Go inside restaurant. I will find a vehicle." The Russian's voice took on an edge of stress, and the idea of this moth
erfucker being scared of anything made me feel suddenly uncomfortable. Okay Sue Zay, time to get on your motorcycle and ride home. Nothing to see here.

  Except for one stupidly fucking-hot guy who seemed to be in a spot of trouble.

  "Van across the street," Hottie said. I stepped back to be closer to the doorway behind the Russian polar bear and looked at the full-sized black van with tinted windows parked across the street. Normally I wouldn't have even given it a second look, but now that Super Hot pointed it out, I could almost feel the criminal intent leaking from the thing's batteries.

  Then the side doors opened and five men stepped onto the street. They were big fuckers, not as big as Super Polar Bear Russian Man, but they were much bigger than the average jerk-off who would ask me to dance at a club. The five begin to cross the street, and one of them reached into his suit jacket to grab something.

  Holy fucking Gabriel, this was bad.

  "Go inside. I'll take care of them," Russian Super Wrestler said.

  "There are five of them," my Lovie Dovie remarked with concern.

  "This is unfortunate for them." The big man stepped toward the parked Ferraris and threaded his massive body between their polished angles. I could now see the sexy Asian man, and our eyes made contact. The world spun again, and I didn't know if I should giggle like an idiot or be concerned that I was about to witness some giant Russian motherfucker get shot full of holes.

  "Excuse me." Asian Beauty King stepped passed me toward the door of the restaurant. For half a second, I wondered if I should keep my eyes on the Russian bloodbath in the street or on the ass of the man walking past me.

  The ass won.

  Then the doors opened to the restaurant, and two men stepped from inside. They made no effort to move aside for my Betrothed, and I realized that these were the two fuckers who had sat at his table with their backs to me. The three men stared at each other for a minute, and I felt the tension between them like a blast of silent music.