39

Anticipation, whether of good things or bad, is agony. But at last, the painful waiting is over. The day of your shareholder evaluation arrives.

Ever since you started working for MetaHuman, way back before you became its CEO, you've heard rumors of "the Audience Room," the secret chamber where the shareholders meet one another and, very occasionally, invite members of staff in order to issue instructions to them face-to-face. The Audience Room was supposedly located up on the one-hundred-eleventh floor of MetaHuman Tower, which itself was no mean feat—the tower only had 81 floors. And yet, as you understand it, the room is not purely a physical space. Its entrance was accessible from MetaHuman Tower, yet the room itself was elsewhere. Now that MetaHuman has abandoned the tower, the shareholders have simply had to move the doorway to their private sanctum.

You know from your days working among the lower orders of MetaHuman that most staff don't believe the Audience Room even exists. They consider it a hoax, a joke, the sort of urban myth that invariably sprouts in a large, somewhat impersonal company culture. Winston Q is the only person you know who will admit that he's been there. You once pressed him for details on the room, but he only smiled and said, "You're asking a blind man for specifics? What do you want to know about—the room's decor? Its lighting? The shareholders' seating plan?"

You'd originally questioned the shareholders' judgment in choosing to hold your evaluation the same evening as MetaHuman's end-of-year staff party. Now, as you arrive at the company's headquarters and pass through into your largest conference room—refitted this evening as the main event room of the party—you linger by the doorway, watching your staff in a celebratory mood.

A hundred or more of them are squeezed into this room alone. They are jubilant, smiling, these logistics managers and IT technicians and sales reps and purchasing assistants. A DJ has set up in one corner of the room; even this early in the evening, a handful of your staff are dancing.

You are surprised to see that Marjorie, your contact with your ORPHEUS allies, is present. She approaches you and smiles. "I wanted to be the first to welcome you this evening. Our collaboration has been productive these last few months. I hope it will continue in the coming year."

"I hope I'm still here to authorize that," you say, not entirely joking.

Another smile. "We are used to exerting our influence, subtly, when we need to," says Marjorie. "To benefit… productive collaborations. Call it a bonus. I hope our best wishes are enough to help you."

Has ORPHEUS found a way to influence people's perception of you? Within MetaHuman, or in the eyes of the general public? You start to ask a question, but Marjorie says goodbye and leaves. You manage a quick "thank you" toward her departing back.

And then you turn your attention to the MetaHuman employees assembled before you. Your team—your entire staff—has faced great challenges this year, and they've weathered those challenges. Being in a position to lead these people this year has been an opportunity, not a chore.

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