Dominions

The Office Of Professor Ben Mason 

Ben Mason was being considered to sit on the Board Of Directors at Bridgewater AI/REM. That is why he hired Thomas Allston to dig a little deeper into the company because of a few rumors he had heard and the conduct of the Chief Executive Officer.

It's never good to be associated with a controversial company. Mason's reputation as a television, radio, and podcast commentator could be damaged, and worse, his primary employer, The Massachusetts Institute Of Technology, could be tarnished if something sticky happened.

Ben was aware of Candace Miniver's (The C.E.O. Of Bridgewater) reputation, which was a concern. He thought the company would adjust to crass, tightfisted behavior, especially if it came with the success ​Candace had delivered in the past. This run was her shot on a world-class stage. Bridgewater is poised to succeed with major players in the telecommunications industry.

Allston's report detailed an organization that was fearful of its leader. That's no way to row the boat.

When Allston asked Ben if he had ever heard of a project or initiative by Bridgewater called HEADSLAM BLUE, he laughed at the name and ​told Allston, "No, I have never heard that name."

​Ben asked, "Who comes up with the project names?" "That's a doozy,"

He laughed and said to Thomas Allston. "I'm going to text a few people and see if they know what Headslam Blue is."

Can you hang in there? Ben asked.

Thomas added, "It's a great job while my wrist recovers."

Mason couldn't resist an easy punchline and said, "Is that injured wrist impacting your sex life?"

Allston laughed and ​added, "You're late to the party; Strier asked the same question two days ago."

The Lamborghini Conference Room on the fourth floor at Bridgewater AI/REM

It was time to retrieve the listening device I planted in the Lamborghini Conference room under the CEO's chair. It's a small device, and I used strong double-sided tape to hold it in place. I rolled my cart into the conference room and started going around the room looking for wastebaskets to empty into my trash cart.

When I got to the head of the table, I dropped my duster on the floor near Candace Miniver's chair. I did this so whoever is monitoring the three cameras in this conference room sees a buffoon being clumsy.

The chairs around the room are all tan-covered leather except Candace's chair, which is royal purple.

Every tyrant ruler must have a throne. Idi Amin in Uganda used one while snacking on his subjects., Papa Doc Duvalier of Haiti sat on one while the Ton Ton Macoute worked over friends and family with rubber batons, and Nicolas Maduro in Venezuela must have one. Candace Miniver has one.

I chuckled when I bent down and grabbed the listening device and the duster. I wondered if Meghan has a throne in her California casa. Would the throne be near the revolving door? Are there any spare subjects left for her to terrorize?

While I was cracking myself up thinking about how Meghan snagged a prize by the short hairs, the electronic, magnetic lock on the conference room door closed with a loud "Clack."

I'm smart about locks, so I know there is no way a person can push, pull, or pry a door with a large electromagnet on it. Unless the building's power goes out, I will be stuck.

Sitting in a chair close to the door, I pushed the listening device under the top of my wrist cast.

I sat and waited for the door controllers to make their next move. I started on today's Wordle and hummed, "Ain't Nobody Here But Us Chickens."

Most cameras today have two-way audio, and this company has state-of-the-art technology.

A voice sounded from above. "Just hang there, Troy; someone is coming to get you out."

I waited close to ten minutes when the door lock released, and a well-dressed man with one of the worst combovers I have ever seen entered the room and sat in the chair next to me. He smelled like a former Fed. You could tell he was making decisions about me as he looked me over. 

"I'm Coley O'Toole, the head of security for all Bridgewater locations worldwide." "How long have you worked here, Troy?"

"Let's see, the Bruins played Toronto and lost 6 to 2; they played the Habs and Florida at home. Did they win against Tampa? I'd say almost two weeks."

"Has anyone instructed you about this room being off-limits to employees unless they are invited to a meeting?"

"Training was a long time ago."  " I don't remember."  " I saw the wastebaskets and ​started doing my job."

Coley looked me over, and I felt he knew I was an idiot. "Well, thank you, Troy; I think that's our fault because this door should have been locked."

"It's nice to meet you, and I'm sorry you were stuck here." "Thanks for the good work." "Carry on."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. O'Toole." "That purple chair is nice." 

"Thank You, Troy. It's a beauty, and it costs a lot of money."

As I wheeled my cart out of the conference room, I heard Coley saying to the air, "Sweep Lamborghini for devices and ​lock it down properly, Simpkins."

They are hiding something big. I'll find out what it is.

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