Page 65 of Technical Advances

It was all coming together. I was graduating, I had my dream job, and, despite the feelings I had developed, and that Anson had apparently developed for me (holy fucking shit), it looked like I might be able to keep my job, or at least a job, at New Day Tech.

Dad had been a little weird and standoffish at dinner, but he’d been all smiles and pride at the breakfast my team had held before the graduation ceremony.

After breakfast, Dad had gone with the other parents, and we students had found our way on to the graduation line.

As the processional music started, I scanned the crowd for my dad and Anson, finding neither in the sea of smiling, excited faces. I did spot my roommate and his girlfriend, who waved at me like their arms were going to fall off, smiling and cheering as I passed their row.

Graduation was, frankly, a little boring. The keynote speaker was some author I’d never heard of, who the undergraduates seemed excited about. He told a few good jokes, but I didn’t find his speech all that inspiring. It was possible I was a bit distracted.

We were sitting in the front rows, and I wished I could turn around and scan the crowd for my dad and Anson. Some of the undergrads did that, but it felt a little undignified for an about-to-be doctorate to be bouncing around in his seat and not at least appearing to pay attention.

I ran some numbers while I sat and baked in my cap and gown, regretting putting the suit back on, but eventually my mind wandered to my night with Anson and to waking up in his arms. I don’t think I’d ever woken up to a blaring alarm feeling more relaxed and content or more ready to take on the day. Hell, I still felt ready to take on the world.

Little did I know, as I sat and tried my best to listen to a bunch of speeches, that in a few short hours it would feel like I was taking on the world, or at least everyone in my little world.

After all the presentations and awarding of degrees, we exited the area, the band playing us off once more. Dad and I had agreed on a meeting spot off campus, figuring it was best to avoid the crowds, but I really wanted to find Anson.

I scanned the area and thought about pulling out and turning on my phone, but I was being jostled by the graduates around me as families and friends started to come up to meet them. I looked around but didn’t see Anson.

I waved goodbye to my fellow robotics and automation graduates after we’d all hugged and called each other doctor. I was laughing as I turned away from them and fought the herd on my way to meet Dad at the divey restaurant I’d frequented during my time in Boston; the owner of which had promised to save a table for her favorite student. It was a short walk, and I was overheated in my suit, even just carrying my cap and gown. I decided to get to the air-conditioned restaurant and get settled, then text Anson. Hopefully he’d come and meet us.

“Benji!” the owner of Lucia’s exclaimed as I walked in, my cap in hand, and the gown draped over my arm. “My favorite evil genius.”

“I’ve told you a million times, Lucia, I’m not building those kinds of robots. You watch too many science fiction movies.”

“And you watch too few. You may think you're building an adorable puppy dog, but mark my words, that puppy will develop a mind of its own and kill us all. All I’m saying is, put in a kind word for me in its programming.” Lucia mimicked typing on a keyboard, then pulled me in for a hug.

“Congratulations, Benji.”

When we separated, her demeanor turned quickly. “Your group is here.”

“Group?” I asked, surprised.

“The three very angry men? Including Anson Day. Yeah. I put them in the upstairs room in the back and hoped they wouldn’t tear each other apart before you got here. The other guy in a tie? The one who isn’t Anson Day, that’s your dad, right? I can tell. Very handsome.”

I gave her a look because most people didn’t think Dad and I looked anything alike. “It’s in the shape of the face,” she said, “and your eyes. You don’t have to be seven feet tall and six feet wide to look alike, figlio mio.”

Lucia grasped my chin. “Both so handsome.” She held fast, her fingers digging in slightly. “You’ll keep them from tearing the place up, right?”

“Three?” I said, immune to the squeeze of her fingers on my chin as I tried to peer over her shoulder despite the fact that the room in question was up a flight of stairs and not at all visible from where we stood.

Lucia snapped her fingers from my face and stepped aside. “Go on, honey, and enjoy your graduation luncheon. I’ve already got a family-style bowl of ravioli and some cheesy breadsticks on the way up, your favorites. I’d say they were on the house, but not if Anson Day is paying!”

Lucia grasped my chin again and kissed my cheek. “I’m so proud of you, Benji. Don’t be a stranger, okay?” She sounded a bit teary. “Just because you’ve graduated doesn’t mean you can’t come have a slice every once in a while.”

I kissed her in return. “Thank you, Lucia,” I said, my focus on the stairs and what, and who, were atop them.

“And bring that handsome dad of yours when you come back,” she yelled after me. More quietly, she added, “and Anson fucking Day.”

I was humming “Pomp and Circumstance” as I climbed the stairs to the second level of the restaurant, where Lucia had an open space with a pool table and a few individual rooms for larger parties. It was very generous of her to set one aside for me. I had thought it was just going to be Dad and me, but apparently Anson and someone else were with him—all of them angry—and Lucia thought that had warranted a private room.

I may have been humming as I began to mount the steps, but my brain had converted those notes and made it more of a science fiction death march. I chuckled to myself, thinking I should have kept the graduation gown on, how the flow of it would have been like the cape of a movie villain.

“And a helmet might help to protect me,” I muttered as I squeezed past a group of college-aged people playing pool and headed toward a semi-enclosed room where my dad and Anson and someone were waiting for me. I wondered if Anson ever just ate at a table next to other people, but I was very glad that he wasn’t that day as I approached and could hear my dad and Beck over the noise of the group at the pool table.

“Of course, he’s taking advantage of him!”

“My son? My son! Are you trying to tell me that my smart, kind, unassuming child has been, what? Plotting against one of the richest, most successful men on the planet? The two of you destroy companies as a pastime, but Benji Warren’s entry-level job is going to take you down?”