Clara's mood had seemingly improved after that downer of a birthday. Her website has had a recent upswing in readership. Her enthusiastic four-star review for a movie about a giant cockroach and a giant rat duking it out in the middle of a city, creating ruckus and swathes of destruction left right and center, should've grabbed the attention of the producer of the lousily produced flick so much that it ended up on all the promotional material for it. She was surprised at herself when she had posted it as she didn't know she had it in her to enjoy what she considered dumb. She had considered taking it down out of embarrassment but she was glad that she did not resent posting it.

Hindsight is twenty-twenty.

Her new found relative popularity did come at the cost of a section of her readership turning on her for being a "shill for the studio". One person exclaimed "It's not like this shitty movie can afford to pay off the reviewers. At least sell yourself well". Another one said "I thought the website was about art not f-art. You see what I did there?". There were other complaints too. "I can't believe they ruined my childhood again" said a devastated fan further lamenting "Turning Rattie's iconic white fur patch to brown... Seriously?"

On top of everything was the ever–present "I'm first" comment with a lot of likes. One passionate fan had gone out of her way to defend the review, going on a rant about how movie watching is subjective and a movie doesn't need to be pretentious to be good. That was posted under every negative comment for the review. She wondered whether even Mike would be able to shield her like that. "Whatever. As long it gets me clicks" she thought. Business as usual.

She did partly owe this to Mike. And her mind went back to her date with him on the birthday. They had gone to the bookstore where he had gifted her a collector's edition of her favorite novel series. They had dressed up for the occasion – in their fanciest – as they ordered the second cake for the day at the restaurant. Everything went downhill soon after as her plan to get into a one-to-one talk with him regarding their relationship failed yet again. "We're like friends" was the usual refrain and she had enough of it. Every day she spent with him felt so right and yet it was strangely incomplete. "Another time" she thought. It was best to not push it.

Content with the day's work she had sat on her couch in front of her TV.

This was an event to not miss. Every news outlet was going to milk it dry. The self-made tech tycoon was the talk of the town. His sudden but calculated rise to stardom was watched with interest across the city. He had transformed a company with stagnant or decreasing product sales into a thriving hub of innovation. Magnus Motors did owe a lot to its poster-boy CEO.

The unveiling of the company's new launch was a big deal. The company's flagship vehicle – Magnus M20 – was transitioning into a fully-electric SUV. The company had an extensive social media campaign with one of the initiatives being an invitation to aspiring engineers as well as college students to attend the event and interact with their idol.

The press meet was about to begin in a couple of minutes. Clara was excited. The men arrived in suits. Press and the students had arrived and were eager to catch every word.

Bill, the CEO, started the presentation. "The company's focus is not only on creating great utility vehicles in the present. We already have an established customer base with high levels of satisfaction and the company's commitment towards excellence is validated by it. We have realized that it is time to think bigger. Fossil fuels have been prime drivers of air and water pollution for decades. As the threat of climate change looms large, we at Magnus have taken it upon ourselves to be the change that we wish to see and that is by transitioning our highest selling consumer vehicle into an EV."

He added, "We will also be investing heavily into a charge station infrastructure adding to a few hundred we already have. The company has a positive outlook towards investment into solar cells to assess its viability in commercial vehicles of the future."

The accompanying presentation highlighted all the specifications of the model – its range per charge, time taken to go from zero to a hundred kilometers per hour, the torque, suspensions, tires and other things that Clara did not fully grasp but did appreciate.

Heavy emphasis was given to the auto-pilot capabilities though it was still under test and had to pass through approvals. At one point, breaking away from the serious tone, Bill had quipped "You wouldn't miss anything from a gas-based car. Not even the sound. All thanks to our software team for this truly smart next-gen vehicle."

The stunning red vehicle was unveiled and thousands of clicks could be heard.

"What advice do you have for young people like them to become like you?" asked a journalist pointing at the students.

He replied "Self-motivated human resources with aspirations to better themselves are key to any industry. The only way to become one is to be the best of who you can be. Minute by minute."

That was apparently a satisfactory reply. Students looked up in admiration.

As if some of the press members got tired of the self-aggrandizement, the real questions had started to arrive.

Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

"Would you back a government proposal to introduce carbon tax on corporations that petroleum lobbies oppose?" one asked. One of the members from the panel replied that the company was closely monitoring the situation and will decide based on information available to them. "All options are on the table."

"There were allegations of usage of child labor in one of your supply partners offshore. What do you do to see the labor rules and safety standards are enforced?" one asked.

"Next question" replied the panel.

But as the journalist pressed on, Bill caved in. "The company condemns it. We have not worked with any that actively utilize child labor. We do have policies in place which are internal to the company."

"Some of your workers who tried to unionize over the issue of wages were laid-off last month. What do you have to say about that?" one asked.

The HR lead replied "The company had negotiations with the disgruntled subset of our large employee base which failed. They were creating a hostile working environment at one point and the company had to take a stand. It was a hard choice. Also, we want to aid small businesses who may be driven out due to repercussions of increasing the minimum wage. All for the greater good. People have to look at the bigger picture than focusing on short-term goals."

The panel signaled the end of the event and press members started to disperse. Bill threw out autographed tennis balls to the students. The event was an unquestionable success. He was satisfied.

Then it happened, to Bill's surprise, the HR lead took a gun out of his pocket and within the next thirty seconds, headshot all other panel members. Hearing the gunshot, press and the crowd members were asked to evacuate. The shooter stood stoically long enough for the heavily armed security guards in the perimeter to take him in not before severely injuring his legs. News channels had a field day.

***

The Park was a calming experience which Will thought would keep him sane. As he nervously scrolled through his messages on his phone, he didn't find the message he was expecting. Things had really gone out of hand. It felt to him that the whole world had come down on him. He couldn't catch a break. It's as if the flow of time was too fast or excruciatingly slow to his liking.

It didn't feel so long after the private celebration he had alongside his family after receiving the news that good progress was being made with his father's leukemia. His father was thrilled with the prospects of watching his sport and academic progress a little longer. The family were barely holding it together as medical expenses were beginning to wrench a hole in their savings and the insurance coverage wasn't adequate enough. Even though the situation was precarious, they had always been happy and they insisted on putting a happy face in front of everyone hoping that one day it would manifest itself organically.

It was the month before that his mother had lost her job. She was working in the HR department of Magnus Motors and was the first-level point of contact for addressing employee grievances.

The company's feverish push towards automation under the new CEO had created a palpable amount of tension in the workforce. Not-so-stellar performance of the last two commercial vehicles was given as the reason for wages staying more or less the same in the company for a couple of years. The higher-ups have continued to make a killing in the stock market as usual.

Cindy – his mother – had promised the workers that their concerns would be alleviated and took it upon herself to have a meeting with her lead on this regard. Nothing fruitful came out of that. In the coming weeks when the workers began to strike, the resurging company was again hit with bad press and the board of directors were concerned with this development. The workers threatened to unionize and litigate for wage hikes. The loss in productivity angered the investors. Talks broke down and as a measure to stem the rot the workers participating in 'rebellion' were laid off.

Not everyone can afford losing a job. Their helplessness was the company's leverage. Cindy was seen as a sympathizer and her clashes with the management resulted in her ousting as well. This had a rippling effect. His father's condition steadily deteriorated. He had missed a lot of his classes. And finally, last week the hospital had phoned them in the middle of the night to inform them of his father's passing.

The family had always known this would be a possibility but were so sure of it not happening. The loneliness and the desperation he felt and the grief of losing someone who meant the most to him dampened his spirits. His pragmatic mother was searching for any job she could land in to support the family.

Breaking thought, Will observed a bunch of high schoolers huddled around as if in a sports pep-talk. He saw them play football for a while. He had noted that the players were fairly skilled and he would have done a different formation if he was in any of the teams. Only if he could put his mind to college.

Just then his phone buzzed, he thought once and then picked it. The man was unrecognizable without his mask. The elderly voice said "You put everyone at risk. We need more time. If somebody pursues us because of you, I'll dispose of you."

He replied "This was my only chance to get back. Just couldn't let this go. I'll lay low and even if I get caught, they'll never know about you or what we are. I swear."

He couldn't let his fear show. He promised to himself that he would prove to be useful.

One of the players had just landed a rogue tackle on a spectacled boy. He could hear one of them screaming. "I told you guys to not take him in. This loser thinks he's a footballer the same day he reads some sports magazines. Go back and cry to your mother. Worthless piece of shit."

"He really thinks he's some magical genius and to top it all off, that he has a chance with Emily. Know your place, scumbag."

"Hey bro, that's your concern. I'll tell it plain and simple. I just hate him."

"How would he look without his front teeth?"

"No different than how he's now."

"He doesn't need it."

Things were starting to escalate as three boys advanced towards the one lying on the ground. The boy gasped, bracing for the damage he's about to receive. Before he could close his eyes, he froze. His hand moved, grabbed the ball and landed a pitcher's throw onto the boys' faces. They stumbled on to the ground. The bullied boy took the opportunity and ran as far as his legs could carry him.

Now that he had calmed down after the doom-signaling phone call, he decided to take the leave. Before going away, he took out his SIM card, snapped it in half and threw it into the trash can. He put his college ID back into his bag which read : Department of automobile engineering.