Page 6 of Technical Advances

Day’s head snapped up but not toward me. At least not at first.

“Thank you, Erin, that will be all.” He had found his voice with his employee. Deep and confident if still a little stilted. After a beat, she nodded and closed the door behind her, and Anson Day smiled, finally focusing the bluest eyes I had ever seen directly on me.

CHAPTER 4

ANSON

He was there. The young man whose work was so close to my own.

Not quite a PhD, but about to become one. I had been in rooms with titans of industry, heads of state, even celebrities, and I’d come to understand over the years that shaking hands was a necessary part of conducting business. I had perfected a firm-grasped, efficient method, and like most things I found uncomfortable, I’d practiced it routinely until my discomfort was abated. And yet, when I was face-to-face with Benjamin Warren, it wasn’t until he pulled us apart that I realized our hands had been clasped for much more than the two-to-three seconds I usually allowed.

Benjamin had entered the room in long strides, his back straight and that hand extended. Yet somehow, he still managed to exude an unassuming air.

When Beck had first reviewed his resume, he was concerned with how closely the graduate’s work paralleled mine. Beck took it as part of his job to protect me, so he had tasked our investigators with ensuring that the young man hadn’t somehow infiltrated our system before he’d presented me with Benjamin Warren’s resume.

He needn’t have bothered. I’d personally created the security protocols for my work. Not only was I sure my project was protected, but the information Warren had provided with his resume showed how he’d come to his conclusions, and though the two of us were headed in the same direction, our paths there had been different enough to show me his independent thought. I explained all of this to Beck when he blustered back into my office and shared the investigator’s work product.

Beck had raised an eyebrow, which I always noticed because it was something I couldn’t do.

“Are you saying he’s thought of something you haven’t?” Beck asked, and I knew he was teasing me by the smile that played at the corners of his mouth. Beck, at least, I had come to be able to read somewhat over the years. It had taken a lot of practice, but he was my oldest friend, so I’d had ample time. Like another Benjamin Warren, years before, Beck and I had lived on the same block as youngsters. He found it unendingly cool that I was already in college and befriended me when I moved in. I thought he would be disappointed fairly quickly when he realized I wasn’t getting our fourteen-year-old selves into college parties, but he remained my friend, even following me to Boston to attend Boston College while I earned my advanced degrees at MIT. By the time we made it to Massachusetts, it was Beck dragging me to the occasional party. I knew he meant well in inviting me, so very occasionally, I acquiesced and went with him.

“Something like that,” I muttered back, earning another raised eyebrow before I insisted that he not worry about sabotage and confirmed that he should set up an interview with Benjamin Warren, Jr.

“I don’t like it, Ani. It’s too close, too convenient.”

I explained to Beck, in great detail, how Benjamin’s work differed from my own, scribbling frantically on the back of the manilla folder to prove my point.

“So you see, his work is entirely distinct!”

“Yeah, you do know that none of that makes any sense to me, Ani. But you’re sure? You’re positive this kid’s not stealing from us?”

“One hundred percent positive.”

“Okay.” Beck didn’t sound convinced, but I couldn’t understand why not. I’d clearly delineated the major differences in our projects. I mean, the formulas were right there on the back of the folder sitting on my desk. They couldn’t have been more different.

The young man whose hand I’d just shaken was the real deal, and his resume had quickly been sorted to the top of the pool of potential hires.

When Beck told me our head of research and development wanted to interview him, I’d informed Morgan that I would be handling the meeting personally, and that I would be considering Benjamin as a potential research assistant, reporting directly to me.

“You’re creating a new position?” she asked as if I hadn’t just said exactly that. People often misunderstood the things I said. It was why it was so helpful for me to have Beck around. Yet for some reason, I didn’t think to involve Beck in my decision to meet with Benjamin Warren personally.

To Morgan, I simply nodded.

“To work directly with you?

When she couldn’t contain her surprise, I decided it would be easier not to even attempt to explain it to Beck, or Erin, or anyone else for that matter. It was my company; I could interview and hire anyone I wanted, including an entry-level employee. If it worked out, then I’d let everyone know.

Young Benjamin Warren did not look anything like his father. I didn’t have many friends when I lived in Arizona, but Ben and I had walked off the bus and down the road together during the few years I’d lived there. Unlike my mother, his parents both worked, so he’d hang around our house, doing homework and staying for dinner every once in a while. He never once asked me to help him with his schoolwork.

On those days, if the weather wasn’t miserable, my mother would insist we spend time outside, and I had fond memories of tossing rocks in the small creek behind our house. Ben would talk but seemed to understand, and not mind, that I rarely contributed to the conversation.

By the time I’d moved away, Ben was already playing junior varsity football and had a large group of friends. Football had kept Ben off the bus, so I’d lost my walking and homework buddy. I spent all my free time at school in the computer lab and all my time at home in my room or down by the creek, drawing diagrams, running numbers, and building models. I didn’t see much of him for those few months of high school before we moved away.

My mother had kept in touch with the Warrens, and she’d told me back then that Ben had begun dating one of the girls from the neighborhood, Ashley. Ashley had always been kind to me, just like Ben. I was happy for them. Mom had used that bit of information to try and ask me if there was anyone I liked. I just shrugged and said no.

I had stayed quietly in the closet throughout high school, not bothering to tell anyone I was gay, because I spent most of my time alone anyway, so there was no one to tell and no reason to come out. At MIT, I managed to meet a few men, who, like me, were too interested in their work to care about much more than the occasional hookup. Meeting men had become exponentially more difficult as my notoriety and my bank account grew.

Eventually, I came out to my parents because really, what difference did it make? They told me they weren’t surprised.