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think they’ll make the scapegoat for his righteous indignation?”
    And there it was. Neela realized she’d been played. That the entire confrontation with Hektor was the first move in a high-stakes game of corporate survival.
    “You could have told me, Mosh. I would have been a good girl, you know.”
    “Which,” Mosh intoned, “is exactly why I didn’t. There’s not a poly-psyche in the world that will ever question your sincerity on this vidacord. As far as the world, and more importantly, the courts, will see, we did our absolute utmost to ‘free’ our little frozen friend from the clutches of ‘corporate’ greed.”
    Neela sat back. “I’ll be damned.”
     
    _______
     
    Mosh was just getting ready to leave his office. He looked around and was satisfied with how the day had turned out. His encounter with Hektor had provided some excitement, reminded him of why he got out of the upper echelons in the first place, and reaffirmed that he could still handle the sharks if need be. Not bad for a day’s work. He backed up all the relevant data into his secure file and separated it from the main computer storage. Switching his phone to emergency calls only by shaking his left hand in the air, he left his small but functional office.
    Just outside the door he was ambushed by his secretary.
    “I’m sorry to bring this up, but they wanted me to make sure you read it,” she said. She stood directly in his path, arms folded—devilish smirk on her face.
    “Which ‘they,’ Eleanor?” he asked, resigned.
    “The accounting department they, O great and powerful director, sir,” she answered.
    “Oh that,” he laughed. “I saw it and ignored it, as any sane man would do with yet another memo from Accounting. It can wait until tomorrow. Coming?” he asked, motioning toward the door.
    “In a minute.” She stepped toward him and put her arms around his neck, then gently nuzzled his ear. Speaking softly she cooed, “It seemed pretty urgent, and I did promise them you would look into it before you left today.”
    “I never should have married you,” Mosh said with a smile, knowing he’d lost this battle. He turned around and headed back into his office. Without even sitting down he hovered over the holodisplay and called up the memo that had assumed the extraordinary power to influence his marital bliss in an amazingly short amount of time.
    He read the first line.
    Interesting . He reached for his chair, and without taking his eyes off the display, pulled it beneath him and sat down.
    He spent the next fifteen minutes calling up and sending out data. When he’d confirmed the essentials of the memo and all it entailed, he leaned back into his chair and allowed himself a brief respite. He had a funny feeling it was going to be his last for some time.
    He called out to his wife through the still open doorway. “Honey, I don’t think I’ll be able to make dinner after all. And get me Dr. Wang.”
     
    Hektor was busy indulging his one true vice. The smell of an incredibly rare and expensive cigar was filling the small, impersonal office he’d been using for the day he was at the Boulder facility. The thought that the cigar smoke would linger and annoy the prissy, health-conscious bureaucrats filled him with joy. After all, the prejudice against smoking had no basis in modern health care, and yet this petty meme was still making its presence felt centuries after the need for it had disappeared. But this was a time to celebrate, and if the celebration bothered the hospital staff, so be it.
    He’d just finished talking with the deputy director in charge of Special Operations, DepDir for short, and had given his report. The DepDir was very pleased and told Hektor that the board would be informed of his outstanding work. He’d even hinted that The Chairman himself had taken an interest in the project. This meant that there was a chance, small but there nonetheless, that The Chairman would hear Hektor’s name.