9

You peep through the rear door of the Perch Hotel's conference hall. Forty or so people are seated there, fidgeting and chatting to one another in low voices. Most are journalists. You recognize a handful of others as employees of MetaHuman.

"They're waiting for you, Professor .," says Winston. "I hope you feel up to a little improv. Miss Nakamura, lead me to the podium, please."

You and Winston, led by his assistant, pass through the aisle in the center of the room. The assembled audience members fall silent; the only sound that remains is the soft click-click-click of digital cameras.

Winston takes the raised podium, pauses a moment, then says, "MetaHuman Incorporated is a company in crisis. Not a financial or ethical crisis, as some sources of media have incorrectly reported. Nor even a crisis of the heart, of the soul. A company, a corporation, is at its core merely a group of people working together toward a common goal—and MetaHuman contains the best, the brightest, the most motivated team of people I've ever been fortunate enough to work alongside. No, our crisis has been one of focus, of direction. For some weeks now, we have lacked a head. We've lacked a leader with the vision to drive us to resounding success this coming year. This is no longer the case. There has been much speculation concerning who would take that role. That speculation may now end. Earlier today, I had the honor of being the first to extend my congratulations to our new chief executive officer, Professor Alianore Hindergrass .. I now give you that same honor."

He nods once at the crowd before him and, as they break into rather restrained applause, he takes a step back, leaving the podium clear.

"You're up," he murmurs.