I was busy trying to figure out how my company and I would get out of this catastrophic blow to our public image. I just drank some lemon tea to calm my nerves, so I don’t have to strangle someone.
I sent out some emails and communicated with various lawyers on my desktop.
This is insane. I’m twenty-seven years old with my own robotics and science firm. I deserved so much better than this garbage. I didn’t care what all those other people employing me want. I had to have clean image and my creations won’t be used for destruction and–
“Ms. Saqqaf?” One of my workers buzzed on my intercom.
“Yes, what is it?” I quickly responded by half-yelling.
“Inspector Hayes would like to speak with you.”
Things just couldn’t get much worse.
C. M. B. Bell's Writing Universe 