Chapter 1

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Chapter 1: Orientation

DANTE delivered me to my first day of work for Magna Black, sporting a gray suit and crimson tie, along with freshly-shined lace-up dress shoes. Brands? Who cares about brands? DANTE pretty much duplicated them based on whichever patterns he had were the most energy-efficient. I'm not even sure the things had tags. Why bother? I was here to work, not dress to impress.

The main office of Magna Black was in Boston, one of those nondescript office buildings that looked like someone stacked a bunch of pentominoes together to figure out the shape. You know, all nice and blocky. It had plenty of windows, though they were tinted so you couldn't see too much from the outside. They had the illusion of transparency while preserving their secrets. Interesting. Well, it was interesting to me, anyway.

I knew this company's secrets would tell me more about the world I came from, the war I'd come back to prevent. Their fingerprints were all over it. Even with my past meddling in their affairs, I hadn't changed the results by very much. While the founder, Chairman, and CEO of Magna--Ryan Andriesen--had become somewhat of a kinder, gentler person, DANTE's research indicated it didn't have all that much effect on the future. World War III was simply bigger than anyone one man, so I had to adjust my tactics accordingly. If I could change the course of this whole organization, maybe that would alter the future enough to matter. I knew one thing for certain: my jaunts into the past, tweaking bits here and there, simply didn't work that well. This was my alternative--perhaps the only one. I had to try. If I failed, so be it, but it wouldn't be for lack of effort.

The reception area for Magna Black looked quite a bit like the lobby of Magna Tower, though less opulent and smaller. The decor was similar--lots of curvy chairs, lit pillars, and a big, round desk with a receptionist. But this time, I was expected. A cute redhead glanced up at me and smiled upon my approach. "Mr. Maxwell! So good to see you. I take it you had no trouble finding us?"

"Nope, the directions you gave me were rock-solid." Not that I needed directions, what with instantaneous teleportation technology!

"Wonderful!" She punched a number into her phone. "I'll call your personal assistant, she'll get you set right up."

"I get my own secretary? Cool!" Okay, I'll admit I was excited to have my own grunt to push around. It had been a long time, after all, since I had Crewmen and lower-ranking officers to do my bidding. My team--Paul, Jennifer, and the rest--they didn't really "take orders." We did things as a group. It was my show, but they were under no obligation to do what I said, so it just wasn't the same.

By the time I'd let it sink in that I had my own assistant, there was this wide-eyed Indian girl standing in front of me. She nearly blinded me with her smile, so much so I almost didn't see her extended hand. Once I came to my senses, I grabbed it and gave her a grin right back. "Nice to meet you, Ms...?"

"Rakhee Malipeddi. I'll be your personal assistant," she declared.

I nodded. "What all does that entail?" I hated showing my lack of experience in the business world, but I had to know just what her job consisted of, so I wouldn't step on her toes, or make assumptions about what she did and didn't consider her responsibilities.

She turned her eyes upward, as if recalling a mental inventory, rattling off the whole list. "Appointment scheduling, travel booking, personal errands, presentations, research, phone screening, dictation and minutes, and you may also delegate additional tasks to me in order to lighten your workload."

"Sounds like a lot of work."

She shrugged. "That's what I'm here for! Let me show you to your office." She turned around and scampered off, and I quickly came up after her. She led me through some winding corridors and past several rows of cubicles until we reached some proper offices: doors, walls that go all the way to the ceiling, that sort of thing. My office was actually divided somewhat. There was a front area consisting of a small desk, a few chairs, and filing cabinets--I assumed this was Rakhee's territory. Behind that was a closed door, which she opened to reveal my actual workspace. I had a pretty big desk, an imposing leather chair that was so big the back of it would go way past my head, and then a smaller desk off to the side with a computer on it. I also had a couple extra chairs to accommodate guests and employees. There were a few nature scenes, framed, hanging on the walls, simple stuff to maintain a tranquil atmosphere, I guess.

Rakhee proceeded to show me around my office. "This is your desk," she gestured. "Although you have plenty of drawer space here, I would highly recommend you only keep personal effects and papers in it. Anything business-related should come to me so I can properly file it." She went to the computer next. "This is a top-of-the-line desktop model. It's brand new, so if you have any problems with it, there's a phone number for the IT department right next to it. As this is a new position, we are still sorting out your initial workload. Rest assured, I will have it prepared for you within the week. Feel free to call upon me for any of the responsibilities I mentioned earlier." She tilted her head. "Do you have any questions for me?"

I straightened my tie, trying to absorb everything she'd spat out so quickly. "Yeah, which way to the can?"

...

After relieving myself, catching my breath, and turning Rakhee loose, I sat down at my desk. It was funny, I'd always sworn I would never be caught "flying a desk," so to speak, but here I sat, in this oversized chair, poring over something labeled "Employee Handbook." I thought the military had stringent dress codes, but this place came pretty close without actually mandating uniforms. No visible jewelry for men, no tattoos, hair must be less than shoulder length, beards must be kept neatly-trimmed. Seriously, what the hell? But it was worse for the women. The inseams of skirts had to be of precise measurements or they were against policy. The whole thing struck me as a collection of incidents where somebody, somewhere had to push the envelope, and they ended up making a policy to prevent it in the future. How asinine. But then, I was the CTO. I could probably get away with a lot of stuff. No sense pressing the issue too early, though, right?

Rakhee seemed like a sweet girl. Eager to please, intelligent, diligent. Good qualities. She appeared to lack the guile for true business acumen, however, and that would probably keep her always one step below genuine management. Me, I was kind of an asshole, and I knew how to press the flesh and get results from people. But Andriesen took a gamble on me, so I had to make a good impression without being a showoff. Nobody likes the guy who comes in and rocks the boat from day one. Makes for a hostile environment, and even if I do good work, they might show me the door for being a troublemaker. No, if I was going to be here for the long haul, I had to keep my attitude in check. I only called some of the shots here, not all of them. I needed to remember that.

Rakhee came back to bug me a little while later, after the handbook had very nearly put me to sleep. She peeked her head into my office. "Are you settled in? Would you like a tour now?"

I shrugged. "Sure, anything to get me away from this godforsaken handbook of yours."

She grinned, and gestured for me to follow.

Hey, at least I had a pretty young secretary to ogle. That's every businessman's dream, isn't it? Or am I in the wrong century here?