Chương 2: Chapter One pt 2

My phone buzzed. Kate: Thanks for the coffee!:):):) Me: And? Kate: 🐻🦞 Me: Is that supposed to be bearclaw? Kate: What else would it be? Me: Grizzled Lobster. Kate: … wtf… Kate: … anyway lunch today? I need to vent about my client!!!! Me: Yes please Kate: Sandwiches? Me: Why does that make me want to watch Frozen? I watched Kate type and delete for probably five minutes before she must've given up. I smiled.

Leaving her speechless was a game I played; I didn't know if she was aware of the game or not, which made it more fun. Kate was the kind of person everyone in the office wanted to be around. She remembered everyone's birthday, organized happy hours, and was always warm and social in a way I never could be. She always joked that she forced me to be her best friend. She wasn't wrong. I went back to obsessing over kerning, and a short while later my desk phone rang. I almost jumped out of my skin.

I didn't even know that phone was functional, let alone was set to the volume of a tornado siren. I hurried to pick it up.

"Hello? This is Samantha Marion."

"Miss Marion, hi. It's Rebecca from HR." Her voice was sickeningly sweet in that particular HR tone that was supposed to come off as pleasant but really sounded more fake and offputting than her vastly overdone lip filler.

"Rebecca, what can I help you with?" I asked, brightening. I'd heard a rumor (from Kate) about a new Creative Director position opening up, and with all the effort I'd been putting in, and Greg giving me a direct report, maybe they'd decided that I would be a good fit.

"I need you to come down to Conference Room B please." Something cold settled in my stomach. Conference Room B was the one furthest from everyone's desks. Usually, it was reserved for raucous clients or disciplinary conversations they didn't want anyone overhearing.

"I'll be right there." I said and hung up. I saved my changes and locked my computer, and tried to convince myself this was nothing. Maybe they wanted my input on a new hire, maybe it was that promotion and they wanted me to keep it hush hush. Anything, anything other than losing this client. Daniel ducked his head when I walked by. I stopped for a second and motioned for him to take off his headphones. He mimicked being on a call and swivelled his chair so that I couldn't see him.

That cold feeling in my stomach got even colder. Conference room B was sad-baby beige. Beige walls, beige tables, beige chairs. The only colors in the room were found on 'motivational' posters on the walls with stock images and 'inspiring' words in bold block font that read, "EXCELLENCE" and "SUCCESS" or other similar phrases that reminded me of elementary book fairs. They made me vaguely insulted that someone thought hey, you know what would inspire teamwork when all else has failed?

A poster of a mountain that simply says "TEAMWORK". Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. Rebecca and Greg Harrison Jr., the son in 'Harrison & Sons Design', were seated when I walked in. He was technically my boss's boss. He was mid-fifties, and styled his hair in a way that said, 'No, I'm not balding–why do you ask?' He had the perpetually constipated smile of a man who had inherited a company by 'working hard' and 'overcoming adversity'.

His favorite catchphrase was, "I'm a different kind of CEO." Neither stood when I entered, and neither smiled. A stack of papers sat in front of each of them.

"Miss Marion. Please have a seat." I sat.

"Thank you for coming over on such short notice." Rebecca said robotically.

"We need to discuss something that's come to our attention."

"Okay," my voice came out steadily, which was surprising considering that my heart felt like it was trying to escape out of my throat.

"What's going on?" Greg and Rebecca exchanged a knowing look.

"It's come to our attention," Greg said, "that designs on your computer have originated from an external source." My mouth went dry as my brain tried to understand.

"What do you mean?"

"According to IT, there are some–" he checked the document.

"irregularities in the timestamps of your computer files."

"Irregularities?"

"The timestamps appear to have been tampered with making the files appear older than they are." I stared at Greg and Rebecca, just blinking.

"I don't even know what that means." Greg continued.

"This is particularly egregious in the AllMart account." He folded his hands on the table. The cold feeling had spread throughout my entire body, and I felt paralyzed, almost like I was watching this play out from outside of my own body.

"I don't understand."

"Then let me be direct." Greg slid a page across the table to me.

"This is a design file from your computer. You recognize it, correct?" I nodded.

"This design along with all of the others were just announced on socials as the new design for a grocery chain in Pennsylvania called Allegheny Mart. We spent the evening with IT and legal experts deciding our course of action. As it turns out your files appear to have been created after these were leaked on their Insta last week."

"That's insane," I heard myself say.

"I created this, I have version history and sketches."

"Data doesn't lie, Miss Marion." Rebecca's voice was clipped in a way that made me want to scream.

"Then someone stole this design. I've been doing final touches and preparation on the new branding for a week and a half. This is something that I've been working on for well over a month."

"Miss Marion. We spoke with your direct report. Daniel claims that you changed your design last week after being stumped and in a rut the majority of this project." The room tilted.

"He also told us that you encouraged him to use AI to generate designs and gave him specific prompts to make them look less fabricated."

"He's lying." I croaked. My voice sounded far away.

"I have proof. Sketches, timestamps, I've been here for eight years, I have eight years of proof. Just let me get the proof."

"I'm afraid that's not possible." Rebecca stood up, smoothing her blazer in an automatic motion that came with being uncomfortable.

"Given the severity of the allegations, we're going to have to ask you to surrender your company credentials immediately. You'll be escorted to your desk to collect your personal belongings."

"You're firing me?"

"We're placing you on unpaid administrative leave pending a full investigation." Greg's mouth twitched in a way that may have been stomach pains, or it may have been trying to hide his satisfaction with this interaction.

"The evidence is compelling, Miss. Marion. You know here at H&S we operate on a no AI assisted design model here. We take intellectual property theft very seriously." I wanted to argue. I wanted to demand a lawyer, or IT to come look at my computer with me at that exact moment, but I couldn't make my mouth form words. A ringing in my ears became too loud for much of anything. That was when I noticed the poster on the wall. This motivational poster said, "ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE" and it looked fuzzy.

Greg and Rebecca were still talking, but I couldn't hear them. I'm sure it was some HR speak for next steps and remaining professional. A bunch of garbage that really meant, 'Your life is over. Better luck next time. I rubbed at my eyes, but the fuzziness remained. It was faint, and at first I thought it was just the visual noise you get off like dust floating around in your eye goo that you only notice when you stare at a blank wall too long.

The kind of thing you blink and then forget about as you go about your day. Except it wasn't going away. The longer I stared, the more pronounced it became. It almost looked like a pattern underneath that of TV static. Like there was a pattern. I strained to make it out; I could almost see it if I just– I leaned forward, and the ringing got louder. My head was pounding, pressure built behind my eyes, and I was confident that my brain was swelling and would begin oozing out of my orifices.

The static was resolving, though, and I could almost see the symbols underneath. It was a language. I didn't know it, but I recognized it. I don't know how else to describe it. It was a word on the tip of my tongue that I just needed a moment longer to– LEVEL UP