Tesla Coil

Catherine didn’t hate these meetings because they were boring, though they were; she hated them because she knew every time that no one liked her there. And if she knew that, it was a very bad sign.

“And now for the main event,” Rodney said, “These devices…”

She knew what they did, but Rodney was required to vamp. They were really just better versions of an ultrasound, able to reveal more, help more. They were wonderful, and she’d already taken the mostly uncredited team that made it out for drinks to celebrate. The devices were also expensive as hell, which was why they would demand top dollar.

She patiently waited until Rodney offered room for comments.

“We should sell them at cost,” she said. Every face in the room turned to her. She knew their expressions weren’t happy, but she didn’t bother looking, focusing on the screen behind Rodney.

“That would—”

“It’s good PR anyways,” she continued, “Shows we care about the people.”

Catherine knew that didn’t soften anyone. They wanted her to care about them, not people.

“I wondered when the charitable cause would come up,” a Mr. Robson said, “Every meeting you try to undermine this company somehow, Ms. Piec, and every time we have to let you.”

Robson must have pulled the short straw, because it always managed to be someone else making almost the exact same complaint. She owned majority share, and had morals, so they settled with jabs and barbs.

“We’ll discuss after the meeting, Ms. Piec,” Rodney said, “Find a solution that helps with the company’s bottom line.”

The other shareholders agreed to this. They always did. They would have found a way to oust her if she didn’t let them think Rodney kept her ideas controlled. Besides, her actions were good publicity, especially after everything about Henry Eisel came to light.

A few more questions about the devices, which would have been answered if they’d read their packets, and the meeting was adjourned. She stood up and moved toward Rodney with a cocky grin.

“Have you ever thought about just letting me do my job as CEO?” he asked.

“The job I got you on nepotism?” Catherine asked back, “Of course not. I respect you too much.”

He rolled his eyes. Rodney Eisel had the same ruthlessness of his father, but he knew who held the cards. It didn’t stop him from complaining every time.

“If you just stayed quiet, I could get what you want without that whole room hating you.”

“Then they’d hate you,” Catherine said, poking him in the chest, “You’re the defender of their profits against the tyrannical do-gooder who owns the place.”

She handed him a list of names.

“These are hospitals that we’re going to sell to at a steep discount while you get to keep most of them full price.”

“As you wish. You do remember that we need—”

“Profit to afford innovation,” Catherine quoted, “I’ve heard it many times, possibly more than you considering your father liked me better.”

Rodney ignored the comment to look at the list. It wasn’t short, and Catherine knew that, but she’d put them in list of priority by who needed a new machine more.

“Go from the top. It doesn’t have to be immediate, but I do want everyone on the list to get one, and I will check.”

“I know. Are you free to go over it Friday?”

She tapped the watch on her right wrist, revealing a hologram that showed no information as she mentally searched her calendar. Nothing on Friday.

“Should be, assuming no disasters.”

“Assuming.”

She took the stairwell down. It made her less likely to see another shareholder, and kept her in better shape. Plus it gave her more time to think.

Grace would be picking up Harold from preschool for a few days of “grandma time” between productions, which would involve more than grandma. Catherine would work on upgrading Tesla Coil’s gear, and the suit, without Harold around to ask questions. She would have to explain everything to him before he was ten at the rate of his mind.

After she finished the upgrades, she’d probably come stay at Grace’s to spend time with the family, making sure Pete’s room was still in use. Finally, she had to talk to Rodney about things she didn’t think needed to be discussed.

“Mags will probably show up too.”

She always did, somehow having her brother’s schedule memorized, and she’d always ask about Harold in a smug “I don’t have to worry about kids” sort of way. Catherine loved Mags like a sister, between the Eisel siblings, she’d been the one behind Catherine during the trial, but she preferred her support from a distance.

Wait. There was one more thing, tonight. She checked the calendar again.

Quartz Institute Fundraiser

She found her pace increasing down the stairs. This was the one black tie event she was looking forward to. Any scientist who worked there upwards of three years had to attend, which meant she’d get to talk to xenologists again.

She froze as the area around her left eye felt wet.

“Crud.”

It made sense, since she’d always associated the Institute with Pete, that it would do this to her. Still, she hated any tears, especially about this subject. She didn’t even have tissues on hand, so she’d come out of the stairway looking bad. She let herself sit down, stretching out the biometal leg so it stayed straight, leaning on the left one.

“I miss you, and when you come back, you will owe me for all of this.”

Still “when”. She believed it less every day, but she had committed to this, and she wasn’t giving up until she was positive.

She searched the guest list for any new names on the scientist side. Only a Doctor Saul Lanski, who’d only worked there for a year. Most of the employees avoided the event if they could help it. No amount of free food and alcohol could make up for the donors. He’d either be fascinating, or trying to get a better paying job.

“Best of luck, Saul,” she said, focusing on him instead of Pete.

Eventually, with deep breaths, she made it to the ground floor without crying any more.

“And here I thought your meeting with Eisel went long,” a familiar English voice said. She managed a smile.

An unaging mage, Mr. Knox stood a few inches taller than Catherine, with black hair and matching eyes. His skin was pale, emphasized by the dark suits he always wore. Of all Henry Eisel’s former associates, Knox was by far the most tolerable. He didn’t even roll his eyes at her boardroom comments.

“I just prefer the stairs,” she told him, “What are you still doing here?”

“I wanted to ask you out for coffee.”

She looked him up and down, trying to read body language.

“For what purpose?”

“I would like to enjoy your company in a less business setting.”

She felt her eyes widen.

“No offense, Mr. Knox, but I’ve known you since I was a kid.”

Knox immediately shook his head.

“Not romantically if that’s your concern. I… I’ve felt like we’re something close to allies here, and I would like to have a friend.”

She wished, like always, to be good at reading people, but she wasn’t. She didn’t want to add him to the list of people who hated her, and she could also use a friend, a friend without all the baggage between her and Rodney.

“Yeah, fine. Coffee. Might be nice to have a friend.”

“I’m usually better at mincing words than this,” Knox said once they both sat down, “But do you miss your late husband?”

She wanted to deny the late part, but she didn’t want to argue.

“Of course I do. Why do you ask?”

He turned his head, trying to get a better angle apparently.

“I lost my betrothed, a long time ago, and I assume you don’t have many friends your age who understand the pain of losing a partner.”

“So you thought we could confide in each other?” Catherine asked.

He nodded.

“What was she like?” Catherine asked.

“Beautiful, of course—every man would say that about his beloved—intelligent—still the smartest person I’ve ever known—and compassionate. Not unlike yourself in some ways.”

“Minus the beautiful part,” she countered, gesturing to the burns on the right half of her face; it took a specific perspective to see them as beautiful instead of pitiful.

“Definitely striking,” Knox said, “What of Peter, what was he like?”

Catherine had to laugh.

“Pete wasn’t short for Peter,” she explained, “It’s short for Petruchio.”

“Like in the Shakespeare play?” he asked.

“It’s part of why he always called me Cate. He actually hates the Taming of the Shrew, but his parents met while his mom was in pants play.”

“You talk like he’s still alive,” Knox noted.

“Sometimes I think he is. There’s no body, just the fact he’s missing. I haven't actually pushed for him to be declared dead, so legally…”

Knox shook his head.

“I had finality, I suppose. I will hold hope with you that he will return.”

That was an unexpected response. Mandie usually got mad about it, and Rex usually avoided the conversation altogether. There wasn’t anyone else she confided this hope in.

“Thank you. So you had to see the body?”

He didn’t look at her as he answered, “Yes, I was there when I lost…” he swallowed, looking down.

“Oh.”

She bullied herself sometimes for not being there with Pete, but the pain of being there…

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not like you could have done anything to prevent it, unborn as you were.”

She didn’t say anything for the next few minutes, and neither did he, but the sorrow was made lighter, not with lack, but with a sharing of the burden.

The silence was interrupted by a phonecall from Grace. Catherine checked to make sure she wasn’t crying, picked up the phone, and answered.

“Hey, Grace.”

“Catherine, I thought we agreed I was taking Harold for a few days.”

“We did…”

“Then where am I supposed to pick him up, because the teacher says you already got him?”

Catherine searched around her for the child she hadn’t picked up.

“Me?”

Another call, from a blocked number. Normally she wouldn’t answer.

“I have another call—”

She didn’t pull her phone away as the calls switched, leaving Grace able to hear the words.

“What do you want?”

“So quick to answer,” an adjusted voice replied, “We have your kid. If you want him back, send Electron to save him.”

In the back of her mind she was tracking the signal.

“Electron’s dead,” she answered. Obsessives would usually start a rant about how he was definitely alive, giving signal-tracking time to succeed.

“Then you’ll just have to bring him back to life. We’ll have a signal for him to find us. Good luck.”

The call ended before she could find them. She stood up, bumping the table against Knox.

“Get them,” Grace said before hanging up.

“Someone has my son,” Catherine said, turning to leave.

“Then find them,” Knox blessed.

She ran to the car, activating Camera.

“Camera, I need you to check the cctv around Harold’s Preschool. Try to find plates on whatever vehicle they put him in and track it.”

“And what will you be doing, beyond reckless driving?”

“Finding a radio signal.”

It was an open secret that Electron could translate radio signals, not that it didn’t take a lot of effort to make it sound like words. It was the most likely signal they’d have for him, which meant she could track it.

She started on the owned frequencies, checking for interference. The interference was too unstable to be a message though, disappearing as her car found a different position.

She moved to the empty frequencies. Most picked up errant bits of the owned, and a few were teenagers trying to be popular. One sounded older, but it was just a father enjoying a radio tower.

“Please!” she begged the universe as she kept checking the different signals.

“And just in case Ms. Piec didn’t call you, we have your kid, but I don’t know how long he’ll be worth keeping.”

Why did everyone assume Harold was Electron’s kid? They were right, but it was still rude if they thought she'd cheated on her husband.

Didn’t matter. She had the signal. She could narrow down her search parameters.

“Camera, how’s progress on the vehicle,” she asked.

“No plates,” the AI answered, “I can, however, confirm that the perpetrator did use your appearance. Harold caught on to the facade upon grabbing your right hand, whose material they couldn’t imitate, after which they used more force in his capture.”

“Were you able to find any discernible markings you could track?”

“White Van.”

It was a struggle not to set her head against the wheel and cause an accident. She took a deep breath, focusing on finding an exit to bring her to the radio area.

“I know it’s low odds, but can you check for white vans in this vicinity, limit the amount of places I have to go.”

“There aren’t many cameras for me to search that area.”

“I guessed. Please try.”

She found an alleyway with no people and parked by it, ever grateful for a restored vehicle with mismatched colors.

She tapped her left shoulder, activating the nanotech hidden in her clothes, which repurposed the fabric to make something that looked like the Tesla Coil costume. She grabbed the mask from the hidden part of the glovebox, and the boots and gloves from behind her seat. A single hoverdisc, along with a denim jacket, flew to her from the trunk.

She stepped out, feeling less than prepared with her emergency change.

“Hide the car,” she told Camera. “I’ll bring Harold to Grace.”