Brave New Worlds

beaming, and about to chuckle again. "Come on, George, let's leave him to it. "
    "George. Please. We're not finished. We still have to talk about invoicing. "
    "Oh Jesus," and both he and Harriet cracked up.
    "I want a breakdown of every invoice on this printout and why it's late. Friday will do. And please remember, that you are responsible for ensuring we hold to financial targets. If you don't, you aren't meeting the minimum requirements of your job. I'll give you a box four marking. And if it doesn't improve, I'll write one of those hilarious little warning letters. Oh, and Harriet, your anti-blood pressure medicine. I know about it. It does have strange side effects, doesn't it. I can recommend Medical Leave. I will be recommending a check-up. "
    In other words, baby, you may just have lost your job. Harriet's smile slipped.
    He verballed it. "Action. Store session. Copy. H. Pednorowska's behavior to the Medical Department. "
    All this counseling shit to one side, the thing he knew he was really good at was being a bit of a bastard.
    "Harriet. George. Thanks for coming to see me. Harriet, I'm sorry you're unwell. George, I'm sure you'll be able to cope with your invoicing problem. Please ask Simon to come in and see me. "
    Their smiles had not quite faded.
    "Meeting over, Team. "
    Gloves off. Simon had slow reaction times. He needed time to think about things. Well, he had had a whole month to work through this, thanks to Jonathan being so nice. It had probably taken him all month, but he had done it. And he's got me by the balls. He can change my scores, and leave no trace, unless the Chairman is prepared to admit the existence of the password. The computer's got me and George on record and knows our suspicions but that's not proof. I have to wrong foot him. I could say that he'd been monitored telling Harriet what he'd done. But what if he hadn't, or asked "how could they read the note, it was in code?" Jonathan would just have to wing it.
    Simon came back in. He looked as calm and unperturbed as this morning. "An impressive display, Simon. "
    Simon was saying nothing.
    "It wasn't age, you idiot," said Jonathan. "It wasn't slowed-down reaction times. Don't you know when you're being let off? they knew, Simon! that's why you were fired. You didn't think you could use the Chairman's password without all the right protocols did you? they were letting you go without any noise. Then you had to go and tamper with my scores this morning, you stupid, dumb, poor, idiot little lamb, and I don't know if I can stop it this time, Simon. I think they're going to send you to jail. "
    Simon sat unmoving, in silence. But silence was not a denial, or shocked surprise. Would that be enough?
    "I mean, as if I didn't signal it, as if I didn't near as dammit tell you, in those private little sessions, you've got a month, keep your nose clean. I don't want to see you go to jail!"
    Jonathan raised his hands and let them fall. "I really thought you were smarter than that. "
    Simon had not moved, not an involuntary flicker of the eyeballs, not a heave of the prison-patterned shirt. Except, he was weeping. He sat very still and a thick, heavy tear that seemed to be made of glucose crept down his cheek.
    "They always have one up on you, don't they?" he said.
    In the corner of Jonathan's screen, a tiny white square was flashing on and off, in complete silence. A security alert.
    "You work your butt off, they keep you dancing for twenty years, and they make a fortune out of you. "
    This was going to be very sweet indeed, thought Jonathan. Talk about two birds with one stone. Fancy Accounts letting something like the password out. They'd all be for the high jump. Bloody Accounts, who were always breathing down Jonathan's neck about invoices, or performance scores or project costs or unit cost reduction. They would all have their necks wrung like chickens. What a wonderful world this could be.
    "It was a dumb thing to do," Simon admitted, laying each word with a kind of finality, like bricks.
    "Well. I reckon you'll have revenge. At least on Accounts," said Jonathan.
    The door burst open, and Custody came in like it was a drug bust and they were Supercops. In their dumb blue little uniforms.
    "What the fuck kept you?" Jonathan demanded.
    "By the way, Simon," he added. "We didn't know for sure, until a second ago. Thanks. "
    Simon didn't move a muscle. When Jonathan checked later, he found he'd scored a ten. Hot damn, it felt good to be so