by Marc Jedel
“I guess he’s a typical startup founder. He can be inspirational, and also sometimes a jerk. The company wouldn’t have made it to this point without him and Saunders. I don’t see them too often.”
“Can drones be crashed?”
Daniel opened his eyes wide. “Crashes are extremely rare.”
I watched to see if he knew anything. “No, I mean on purpose.”
Daniel rocked back in his seat and darted his head from side to side to check if anyone had overheard me. “Why would someone intentionally crash a drone?” He put down his fork. “We shouldn’t talk about crashing drones here. I like my job. It’s like talking about bombs in front of a TSA agent. You can attract unwanted attention.” He no longer seemed so pleased that I’d come for lunch.
We fell into silence as the hubbub of the cafeteria flowed around us. A few people interrupted the tension when they stopped by our table to ask Daniel about various projects. I tried to get back into his good graces by talking about former colleagues and my own work. By the time we got into a technical argument about programming languages, he seemed to have forgotten my earlier questions. All in all, it was a fairly typical social gathering of engineers.
After a while, Daniel said, “I’ll show you the view of the Bay from the top floor.” He stood up without waiting for my response.
“Sure.” Although I wasn’t all that interested in looking out a window, I hoped to encounter Rollag so I could ask him more questions. Plus, I’ve learned it’s worthwhile to spend the effort networking with colleagues at high-value companies. Perhaps Daniel would help me get a job here. Or at least invite me to eat in the cafeteria again.
As we collected our lunch trash, Daniel’s phone buzzed. He requested I take his things while he responded to a message. He pointed me toward the recycling area and told me he’d join me in a minute.
Choosing my lunch paled in comparison to the difficulty in figuring out how to get rid of our trash. Four different trash cans sat under four holes in a countertop next to a long container for used silverware. Above the holes, signs with pictures depicted what to put in each can. I put the silverware in their container. That was simple. I stood looking at the pictures above the other containers while DroneTech employees swirled around me, putting their trash into different containers without any hesitation.
Despite the elaborate pictures, I didn’t understand what to do. I approved of composting in theory. Distinguishing a brown versus a green from our lunches was an entirely different thing. The napkins were dirty from food so I didn’t think they should go into the paper recycling can with the photo of clean napkins above it. Sure, the salad was green, but Daniel’s leftover carrots were orange. I didn’t see any pecans in the pictures. The pictures didn’t match what I held. After looking around to make sure no one noticed, I dropped everything in the nearest can and walked away before anyone could comment.
Daniel led the way down the hallway and continued past the elevators. “You should see our gym first. Maybe it would inspire you to go more often.”
Keeping my eye roll in check, I looked through the glass door leading to the gym. The room was all white — floors, walls, ceiling and even white leather couches on the sides. The equipment was all silver and black. The gym looked nicer than most homes. I’d never seen a gym designed by a decorator before.
Once again, “Wow,” was all I could manage.
As we walked back to the elevators, I saw a short line of people leading to an open door. As we walked past, I saw four chair massage stations in use. I wondered if Daniel would notice if I stood in line as well.
But I followed Daniel to go see the view. I kept my eyes open for Rollag since Daniel hadn’t yielded anything useful. If I ever got hired, I could return for a chair massage. I’d need one to handle the stress of figuring out what’s happening with Laney.
In the enclosed space of the elevator, Daniel wrinkled his nose. “I think you spilled some of the fish.”
I sighed. “It’s my shoes, not the fish.”
Looking puzzled, Daniel didn’t ask for more details. Probably for the best.
On the sixth floor, we walked to an open room with a few small tables, chairs and a refrigerator next to a microwave. Floor to ceiling windows looked out north over the Bay for a beautiful view. Boats sailed in the Bay and marsh grasses waved in a light breeze closer to shore, with the Dumbarton Bridge in the distance.
Daniel puffed out his chest. “Quite a view, huh?”
“Nice break room.” The vintage Rover building, squashed behind a crappy hotel next to the highway, overlooks the next office building across the parking lot from our second-floor vantage point.
“Come on, I’ll show you my office.” As we left the breakroom, he pointed to the left. “That’s the Operations Center. Takes up the other half of the floor.”
I saw a door with a badge reader, but no sign, past the bathrooms. “What’s in there?”
“I’m not entirely certain. It’s a secure room that I’m not allowed in. Rumor has it they track all our drones from there. No one knows for sure.”
His answer made me twitch. I wanted to get in to see if Rollag guided a drone to hit Laney from there.
Instead, Daniel turned to the right, past several conference rooms into a large, open area. Large windows kept the area bright even with all the chest-high cubicles. Daniel’s cube contained a desk with two large monitors connected to his laptop and a comfortable chair. A few knickknacks and photos on the desk completed his typical, modern engineer’s office.
“Nice,” I said to be polite. His cubicle contained no anti-gravity zone, lounge chairs, or even a stand-sit electric desk. Not that I expected such exotic office furnishings, but all bets were off after the cafeteria and lobby slide from the third floor.
Daniel’s phone rang. He glanced at it and sighed. “Shoot, I have to take this call.”
I held out my hand. “I can find the elevators. Thanks for lunch. Let’s do it again.”
He shook my hand as he looked helplessly between me and his ringing phone. He answered. Putting the phone to his chest, he said, “I’m supposed to escort you out. You can make it without any trouble, right?”
“Sure.” If I ran into Rollag, I’d ask him some more questions. I didn’t expect trouble unless I saw someone holding a big sign reading “Kill Laney.”
He nodded goodbye and turned to his phone.
I kept my eyes open for Rollag as I walked back to the elevators. Today’s research had been tasty, but otherwise useless. DroneTech had much better food and perks than Rover and nothing to implicate Rollag, yet.
Before heading back to work, I stopped at the restroom. By the time I came out, my inner map had gotten muddled. Like most men, I believed my sense of direction is better than average. Like most, it’s probably average at best. As I left the restroom, I turned to the left. After a few steps, I realized my mistake and turned around before reaching the Operations Center door.
A short, heavyset man carrying several boxes, as well as a bag of apples tucked under his arm, turned the corner, hurrying toward me from the elevators. Out of nowhere, everything went flying as he tripped over an invisible bump in the carpet. The boxes made a loud metallic noise as they hit the ground. Equipment and apples scattered across the floor as he flung his arms out to break his fall.
Slowed by the sudden spray of debris, I halted. “Are you okay?”
“Thanks. I’m fine. Just clumsy and late.” The man scrambled on the ground collecting his things. Sweat dripped down his face as he hurried to organize his mess.
I bent down to help. Collecting some unusual pieces of equipment behind the kneeling man, I saw his DroneTech badge on the ground nearby.
Inspiration struck.
17
Thursday After Lunch
If the man was rushing toward the Operations Center, then he must be able to get inside. My pulse rate accelerated as my thoughts raced. Here was my ticket. If I wasn’t meant to go inside, then why ha
d a badge been delivered to me? It’s not like I could knock on the door to ask if they’d committed a felony there on Monday.
I palmed the badge and continued helping him straighten out his mess. After all, my mother had raised a well-mannered boy. Temporarily borrowing a badge didn’t mean I couldn’t help a stranger.
I handed him some apples and picked up one of the boxes as we stood up. “You like apples?” I wanted to keep him distracted.
“Oh absolutely. I eat a few in the morning and a few more in the afternoon.” He put the apples back into his bag.
“Here let me help you get this stuff inside.” My mother would have been proud of my helpfulness. Yeah, I’ll keep telling myself that. Covering his picture on the badge, I swiped the reader by the Operations Center door and it clicked open. I pulled it open like I’d done this a million times and held it for the sweating man. “Go ahead, you’re carrying the big load and we wouldn’t want it to spill again.”
“Thanks. Thanks for your help. Just set that box down on the left and I’ll come back to get it.” He gave me a grateful smile as he slid through the door.
I followed him into a dark entranceway. I’d penetrated the top-secret DroneTech Operations Center. The site where evil drone controller minions led by Rollag, their dark overlord, had steered the flying drone of death that barely missed Laney’s car and destroyed the ice cream truck.
Well, maybe. Ok, so I enjoyed science fiction a little too much. But I was inside.
So cool! The D.O.C. — what we regulars called the DroneTech Operations Center — looked like N.A.S.A. Space Control or a huge air traffic control room almost the size of the cafeteria on the ground floor. The ceiling extended up almost twice as high as it did on Daniel’s side of the floor. Huge screens mounted on the back wall contained thousands of colored dots. The dots moved slowly across a map of the U.S. pulsing in every direction in a rhythmic dance. Some dots flashed red or yellow, while most remained a steady green.
A semi-circular array of desks and tables faced the screens. Smaller screens to the sides of the huge map displayed scrolling lists of text, colored graphs, and close-up maps with moving dots all over them. At least a hundred people filled the room. Most sat at the desks wearing headsets in front of their own computers and large displays. Several small groups of people stood by different desks or to one side of the room talking and gesturing at the displays. The room buzzed with quiet conversation and electronic beeps. The room must have had great noise-canceling materials because it sounded no louder than a typical office floor despite more people and equipment.
I stood in silence to the side while my eyes adjusted to the dim light in the room. The moving dots must be the drones run by various delivery companies and controlled by DroneTech software. Some of the side screens showed detailed status updates for drones with red and yellow lights.
Despite the thrill of entering the secret room, I felt frustrated at the same time as it became clear that Rollag couldn’t have crashed the drone on Laney from here. I’d envisioned Rollag, perhaps with one or two trusted lackeys, directing a drone onto Laney from his computer and then producing an evil laugh. If he’d tried that here, someone would have noticed and reported it. After all, engineers followed safety protocols. There was no way so many people could be involved in an attack on Laney without someone reporting it.
Demoralized, I set the box down on one of the empty desks near me and turned to slink out of the room before I got caught. Across the entrance hallway, I spotted another door. This one had a small sign that read: “Lab. Do Not Enter.”
Something must be wrong with me. “Do Not Enter” signs have always been an aphrodisiac for my curiosity. When I was young and our family went on vacations, I’d often gotten in trouble by sneaking into rooms or hallways labeled like that. I always figured that the museums stored their best stuff in secret rooms for special people like me to view. However, I never found the right secret rooms when I was young. Maybe this was my lucky day and this door wouldn’t lead to a boring office or storage room. My overactive imagination demanded confirmation. Rollag might have worked his devious deeds from this secret room.
My body moved as if on autopilot. I had no choice. Stepping across to the lab door, I put the borrowed badge to the reader. If it worked, I’d take a quick peek inside to make sure this wasn’t their secret, death drone control room.
The door clicked open.
I edged into a fairly empty room with some large mounted displays and a variety of mechanical equipment laying around the sides. In the middle of the room, a man lay on a hammock held up by four, small, hovering drones with a controller in one hand and a sandwich in the other.
Awesome. A test room. I wanted a cool hammock like that for my office.
That’s when the klaxons sounded. I hadn’t known that a klaxon made an “ah-oo-gah” sound until that moment. Imagining the loudest fire alarm ever, combined with two more at different frequencies, along with flashing red lights, would approach the reality of DroneTech’s klaxons.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the massive monitor screens flashed red in place of their normal displays. Frozen in shock by the noise and light, I failed to notice the two security guards until they tackled me.
Really. Not. Necessary. Thanks to the guards’ assistance, my body stung from the accelerated impact of my up close and personal investigation of the floor. The two, rather large, guards yanked me up. Each held me by an arm as they turned me around to leave. My legs might have touched the ground, but it didn’t matter. The bruising would come later.
The whole control room stood to look my way. Quite a few of the technicians held their hands over their ears to protect against the unnecessarily loud, klaxon noise. Most of the techs were too far away for me to see their faces, however, the ones nearby made their displeasure plain with clenched jaws and glaring eyes. One slight, older technician even shook a raised fist at me. I missed my chance to apologize for disrupting their day as I struggled to catch my breath from hitting the ground.
The guards growled something and yanked me out of the lab, made sure the door closed behind us and took three quick steps out of the Operations Center. I don’t think they were pleased that I’d interrupted their low stress, security guard positions. Smacking my head on the way out of the Operations Center might have been an accidental byproduct of their lack of recent training, or perhaps as a sign that they’d realized my actions had endangered their gravy train.
They half-dragged, half-marched me to the elevators. I saw workers from the other side of the floor stepping into the aisles to gape down the hallway to see what disaster had struck their Operations Center.
Nothing to see here.Go back to work.
As the guards pulled me into the elevator lobby, I saw Daniel standing by some co-workers. His mouth agape and eyes wide, he stared at me from down the hall. He seemed in shock that I hadn’t followed his simple request to leave the building without incident.
Maybe, I’d need to wait a few weeks before asking him to recommend me for a DroneTech position or visit for lunch again. Shame, I’d miss the rest of Pecan Month.
The guards hustled me across the lobby, yanked the temporary badge off my belt and the stolen badge out of my hands. They deposited me on the sidewalk with a warning not to come back. Probably they just meant not today.
Brushing myself off, I regained my composure and tried to ignore the stares of the people around the driveway. Although embarrassed, I’d made some progress in my investigation. There was no way a rogue controller could have attempted to crash a drone onto Laney undetected by the other workers in that crowded Operations Center. However, as co-founder and CTO, Rollag had access to any secret labs. He and his evil minions might have used secret controller access from within a secret lab to crash the drone while hovering in the hammock eating any number of pecan delicacies.
Well, it’s possible.
Why was Rollag trying to kill Laney? He didn’t seem the sort to suffocate an old
lady in the hospital in the middle of the night, even if by mistake. However, if Rollag hadn’t done it, then who did?
Fresh out of answers, I brought up the Rover app to request a car to take me back to work. It looked like I’d be working there for a while at least.
The Rover service was down.
Getting stranded during a Rover engineering crisis wouldn’t endear me to my current boss. Hanging around while DroneTech’s security guards watched me suspiciously and talked on their walkie-talkies from inside the lobby doors wouldn’t endear me to a future DroneTech boss.
Great.
18
Thursday Early Afternoon
I rebooted my phone and tried again. The Rover app wouldn’t connect to our servers to locate a car for me. The whole service had crashed.
I called Raj to check in. The call went to voicemail. Not a good sign. I’ll bet it was an all hands on deck situation at the office to get the service running again. And here I was, out of the office. Again.
My boss would notice my absence during the emergency. I called his phone to tell him that I’m on my way. Voicemail as well. I left him a message that I’d left at lunch for a doctor’s appointment and noticed the service was down when I tried to get back to the office. Better that than tell him I was calling from DroneTech, where I definitely wasn’t going to get a job today. My parents raised me to tell the truth, but they also raised a smart boy.
I refused to get dropped off at work from a competing rideshare car. With my luck, I’d show up at work in a non-Rover car only to meet my boss standing outside. I called a taxi, one of those old-fashioned kinds with the light on top and a human driver inside. The only remaining taxi company in the area quoted me thirty minutes for pickup. Perhaps they knew where I worked. I walked a little farther away from the DroneTech building in case their security people decided they didn’t like me hanging around.
