AllFreeNovel
Share Us
It’s not a bug report or a fix this time, just a direct message. A long one at that. In it, Phantom suggests a whole range of interesting and fun features for the app and includes references to open source projects and libraries that I can use to implement said features with relative ease.
Also, Phantom suggests a number of improvements that would “make the app ready for wide use.” The issue that stands out to them is that my database of user pictures is public at the moment, which will cause privacy concerns with the more paranoid users. Here, too, Phantom suggests references that I can use to make this job easier.
I double-check the IP. Not the same as Britney’s, but I could’ve guessed that based on the supportive tone and because she’d never end a message to me the way Phantom has:
Your code is elegant. I think you have a talent for this. Don’t give up, and you’ll go far.
Even though I have no idea who Phantom is, it’s got to be someone on the dev team, which makes me swell with pride.
Also, I get the screen name now. Whoever this is, they’re acting like a mentor, which the Opera Phantom was to Christine.
I just hope this Phantom isn’t hideous, or harboring a dark obsession with me. Note to self: Don’t call the Phantom an Angel of Software and keep an eye out for a mannequin that looks like me in a wedding dress.
Grinning, I write a thank-you message to the Phantom of the Code and spend the rest of the day familiarizing myself with all the sources they’ve provided me with.
As I work, I actually feel myself becoming a better programmer—or at least a cockier one.
When my eyes get tired, I log off and feed myself and my grumpy guinea pig some dinner. After that, I put on the gloves and the N95 mask again so I can rid myself of the one remaining eyebrow. I manage to do this without getting the toxic substance in my eyes, mouth, ears, or any other orifices.
Eyebrowless, I survey my pale face in the mirror. I look like I’ve gone through chemo, yet still better than when there was just one eyebrow.
Belatedly, I realize my big eyebrow-related shopping won’t arrive in time for my meeting with Sandra. Oh well, I’ll just draw them on and make sure to redraw as needed.
Thus determined, I finish my evening routine and go to sleep.
* * *
When I arrive in the office the next morning, Sandra and I grab the meeting room nearest her cube. She looks uncomfortable, exactly as I imagine she would if she were about to fire me.
Crap. Is this it?
“So,” she says, steepling her fingers.
I brace myself. “Yes?”
“How are you?”
“Ready to work on something,” I say, doing my best not to sound insubordinate.
She shifts in her seat. “The order from the top is that you’re only to work on Project Belka.”
I raise the patch of skin where I drew one of the eyebrows. “So I can just resume that?”
Sandra clears her throat. “Not until you’ve been deemed rested.”
“Do I not look rested?” I take out a mirror and make sure that I don’t have bags under my eyes—and that the eyebrows are still in place.
She glances furtively in the vague direction of the Impaler’s office. “I’m not the one who has to decide.”
“I see.” I drum my fingers on the desk. “So let me get this straight: I can’t work on anything but the project that’s on hold until I’m miraculously rested. And to top it off, if we want to talk about said project, it has to be face to face?”
She nods. “Sorry you ended up coming here for nothing. I was actually hoping you’d have an update for me.”
Ah. She might be a little sore that I ended up interacting with her boss directly. She doesn’t realize that was by accident.
I sigh. “I didn’t mean to criticize you.”
She gives me a slight smile. “I know. I’m sorry again that I got you into this mess in the first place. He wanted my best person on the project and—”
