This is Grace Knight. I’m currently writing this from Prison. Some weird girl with orange hair stopped by during visitors hour approximately 6 days ago and told me to write about my side of the Lang incident and would not stop quoting Scott Pilgrim at me. Guards said they’d knock 6 months off my sentence if I wrote it for this book, for some reason. They might be fucking with me, but the sooner I get out of prison, the sooner I can help mom. So... fine. I’m tired of prison anyway. Everyone here is really stupid and I’ve beaten them all at connect four already. No one fucks with me.

Yeah, there’s board game nights sometimes. Helps with the boredom, or just to distract from the fact that the Washington state prison system is entirely owned by Lang Corp and uses it for free labor.

This is my side of the story. Years ago, a team of scientists I lead were approached by Jared Lang, who told us he wanted to build and design a massive nuclear reactor to save money on energy in order to power all of seattle. He then showed us a powerpoint presentation that made a lot of sense, so we agreed. Our first mistake. But Lang gave me the privilege of designing the thing from the ground up and paid me a lot of money to do so.

Unfortunately, A few days after the completion of the Reactor, that job came to a crushing end.

I lived with my mom for most of my life. I was still living with her while I was working for Lang, as she was pretty sick and had to be in bed for the most part. I was the only one who was able to take care of her, since I was an only child and I never met my father. She was not yet super old, only in her early 50s, which is why watching her suffer hurt as much as it did.

I still remember what happened the last time I saw her.

I had just gotten home from the grocery store, and called up to my mom to let her know I was home.

“I’m back! I got that applesauce you like.” I yelled up to her room.

“Wonderful, darling. Please bring it up here for me.” My mom called back down, sounding like she was feeling better.

I grabbed the cinnamon-covered applesauce along with a spoon and ran upstairs to get her some food.

When I entered the room, I saw my mom sitting upwards for the first time in months. Beaming, I set the applesauce in her lap and sat next to her on the bed.

“How’re you feeling?” I asked.

“Better. I think I’m ready to... head downstairs and watch some TV on the big screen, again. Thanks for looking after me.” She replied, with a calm, cheery tone to her voice.

“Are you certain you’re ready for that? It’s a big step. Well, several big steps.” I spoke, chuckling a bit.

I was really, really happy she was feeling better. Most days prior, she just laid in her bed, mumbling or sleeping. It took a lot for me to get through to her, but now at least her conditions are starting to lighten up.

“I’m not one of your projects, honey, you don’t need to doubt me.” Mom replied, also chuckling.

I remember those last moments. It was sweet, cheery. She was able to stand on her own, with little extra help. But those moments didn’t last forever.

Sometimes, I get so busy that I don’t have time to look after the house itself. It’s wild, jagged. Untamed, effectively. Some kids passed by it once and called it a Monster House. They weren’t exactly wrong. Needless to say, though, I accounted for all the food, medication, and money, but what I didn’t account for was the stray nail sticking out one of the wood planks after a failed experiment with the ladder to the attic.

Mom... tripped on that stray nail and fell down two flights of stairs, hitting her head each stair all the way down, before hitting her head on a nearby wall at the base of the staircase.

Because I forgot to pull out a nail.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

I immediately called 911 and got her sent to a hospital... only to be told hours later that she had fallen into a coma, and that it would be a while before she wakes up. Taken away from me, moments after her recovery, because I was too focused on work to notice a stray fucking nail. After everything, I got home at 4am, and only got 4 hours of sleep before more bad news happened.

I met up with Alphonso in the elevator. Jared Lang had called the whole company to the Reactor for some big news about upcoming changes. In billionaire speak, that means good news for profits and bad news for everyone else.

“What do you think he’s gonna announce?” I asked Alphonso, in order to try and get some elevator talk going.

“Definitely layoffs.” He replied without hesitation.

“You’re probably right, but I hope not. I’ve had a really bad night.”

Soon afterwards, the elevator doors opened and we headed out to the ground floor of the reactor. Looking up to the top of the machine I meticulously designed with my barehands, there stood Jared Lang at the tip. No one could hear anything yet, but he had a microphone on him and a smug look on his face.

“It’s been a long and hard decade since this reactor has been built. I’m entering my third term as mayor, and my 15th year as CEO of the company that powers all of Seattle. Each and every day the hardworking men and women of this company put their blood, sweat, and tears into making sure this reactor doesn’t explode and destroy this entire city, and we should be thanking them. Without this reactor, the city of Seattle wouldn’t be half as popular as it is now.

We’ve connected this reactor to multiple power plants in the area, largely decreasing the amount of power needed to power up the city, while knocking down the price of power bills. Tesla is looking down on us from heaven at this moment. So I would like to thank everyone who led us to this pivotal moment in the company. Which is why it pains me to say this next part...” he paused, trying to regain composure in the middle of his sorrowful speech.

The crowd started to murmur with thoughts of what could be happening. Before long, he continued.

“Everyone who doesn’t directly work to maintain the nuclear reactor or work directly with me must pack their belongings. Layoffs aren’t easy, believe me, but there’s just no reason to keep you guys around anymore.” Lang spoke, suddenly without any sympathy or compassion in his voice, just with a cold, businessman’s grin.

The room went loud. Really, really loud. People were upset. Only a small group of people directly maintain the reactor, which included Alphonso, and there were hundreds of others helping out with the creation of it since Jared insisted it be built only with materials owned by Lang Corp. Sometimes, those parts break. Sometimes, something happens with the reactor that can only be fixed with the help of the people who designed it.

Me.

‘We don’t need you anymore.’

Discarded by the company making billions off my ideas.

Scum.

Soon, I couldn’t hear the noise anymore. It was so much, my hearing just stopped working. Lang announced the news in front of the entire company. Out of rage, I knew the next thing I had to do.

I shoved as much technology as I could from my workshop and left for home, pink slip in hand. Remembering what happened to my mom. How the hospital bills are draining me financially, and how I didn’t have a job anymore. Anyone else would be driven insane. I was.

I used that tech for my own personal benefit, and transformed the basement of my house into my own laboratory. I wanted to create a machine using the tech I took from Lang to save my mom so I could stop paying hospital bills and have my mom back.

I spent a long time tinkering with that tech. A couple weeks, at the very least. In the end, it wasn’t exactly what I anticipated, cause it didn’t work like I intended it to. I don’t know if there was a screw loose or a crossed wire, but instead of waking my mom up from a coma, it sucked up a child's drawing of my mom and turned it... real. My mom was a kindergarten teacher and she always brought home art from her students.

I nearly dropped the device I had built with my bare hands onto the ground, standing besides my real mom was this child-like hand-drawn depiction of what a kid thinks my mom looks like.

It was fucking NONSENSE. The drawing couldn’t speak, but it must’ve thought it was my real mom and tried to hug me. I could not process how I could’ve made such a crucial error, and now my personal space was being invaded by an immature art piece from a 6 year old. I ran out of the hospital the first chance I got and immediately went back to my laboratory, studying the device I had created and how it malfunctioned as badly as it did.

I didn’t have more time after that. I was nearly dry of funds, and nowhere else would hire me for some reason. I couldn’t even find entry level jobs. I got a couple interviews, but they never called me back. Some of them were cut short. I had to rely on food banks to survive while hiding in the basement of the house.

Eventually, I kidnapped my mothers kindergarten class and forced them to draw flying pigs and shadowy men for hours. I gave them food and water, but they kept crying and it bothered me the entire time. When the police started to catch the scent of what I was doing, and I waged war on Lang.

That’s my side. I’ve been in this prison for 6 months. My mom still hasn’t recovered.

Tell that orange haired bitch to never talk to me again.