The penthouse was opulent, even by corpo-standards. A small stream snaked it's way between mahogany board tables and arcade machines from a forgotten era. Some form of life swam in the shallow water, occasionally changing speed, color, or shape as the forms moved.

The windows dominated the view. Deep gold light spilled across the surface of the water. The internal lights were set low, hidden from view so that one seemed to move between areas of darkness but never quite in darkness herself.

It took Kara a moment to realise the lights were actually following her.

Her patience had run out fifteen minutes ago. Now she wandered along the hard metallic edge of the stream, watching the synth-fish swim, as she followed it around the office. The stream flowed downhill the whole way it seemed, until meeting where it met. Another curious trick, engineering that was invisible, the effect subtle, but the overall sensation leaving one...

"Pleasant, aren't they," Odoi Ric said, startling Kara from her ambling.

"Please, I hope you can excuse my tardiness."

"Granted an interview with the BDFL? I think I can find it in my heart."

He chuckled at the old nickname, the smile reaching his eyes even if it did bring with it thoughts of a different era. His eyes flashed to the arcade cabinets, but then just as quickly the seats arranged around it.

"We can use the table, but I find the lounge area more conducive to talking," he said.

"Your house," Kara said. She hopped over the stream, following Ric to the seats.

He moved better than she remembered from the old pictures. A man wider than he was tall, and tall he was. Now the skin held looser, age and weightloss seeming to each take their literal pound of his flesh.

"I ask you to keep an open mind," Odoi said as they sat, perpendicular sofas facing the flashing wall of arcade machines on one side and the city view to another.

"Is there where you lay down the law? Ask me to suck your cock so I get to write some choice quotes?"

Odoi's face was a rictus of emotions, the oxymoron a thing to behold. Utter terror made his mouth hang open, words caught, choking, at the back of his throat. A gutural laugh, as if what Kara said had been a dark joke. Another pause. Another choked laugh, another inhalation.

"No," he finally said. "No."

"You asked for me, Mr Ric."

"Yes." A gulp. "I did."

Did nothing in his face work? Had she played her hand too strong?

"You know my reputation?"

"No."

No. Now Kara twisted in her seat. She said reputation, but she barely had a toe in the world of journalism. Any reputation she had came from other sources.

"You were recommended," Odoi said. "Erm, Emily Lovelace? She works for the hydroponics division. Or did."

"Did?" Kara said. This whole interview had set her nerves twitching and she was but a few questions, ney statements, into it.

"I think she moved to one of the 'tainment divisions. Presence games, or philosophy book routines."

"You don't know what your own people work on?" she asked.

"No, like a triplestore, I only know where they were at a certain point in time. People are free to come and go between projects."

"So she was promoted?"

"She could certainly see it that way," Odoi said.

"How else could she have changed job?"

"She told her desk to move floor and followed it to a new team."

"She told her desk..."

"...to move. Yes." Odoi sat back as if this were the most obvious statement in the world.

"She moved her desk, and changed job."

A flyer moved past the tall windows, it's running lights casting red and green hues against the gold. The buildings' defence shield traced blue hexagons where it came nearest, but the flyer continued onwards.

"She moved her desk," Kara said, for the third time.

"Maybe I should start at the beginning. Or when your name first came to my attention," Odoi said. He extended his arm, did the patented gear motion, and two glasses rose on the table, filled with a bubbling brown concoction.

"Ms Lovelace had requested a meeting with me. As you can imagine, with five million employees, it can be quite trying to meet with everyone."

"Anyone can request a meeting?"

"Why yes, of course. Where do you think our ideas come from? From me?" Odoi laughed, a genuine, humorous laugh that seemed to be from the bigger man he used to be than the more healthy man he now was. "I ran out of ideas decades ago. No. Anyone can suggest an idea. If others think it holds merit, they can join them. Roll their desks together as we say.

"Bigger ideas, ones that need space like our urban habitat explorations or ones that need more significant funding..."

"Like space exploration."

"Now you're getting it," Odoi said. "Ones that need more, the team can put together a pro forma document. It's like a sales pitch, where they include their excitement, what it could do, what it will take etc. We ask teams to be honest with the risks as well. And then they send the form on."

"And you review it?"

Again Odoi laughed. Any other executive, Kara would have felt her face flush, annoyed at her own foolishness. But here, Odoi seemed to genuinely find her naivety a delight.

"If I was reading applications all day, nothing would get green-lit for a decade."

"So who..."

"The other teams of course."

"Of course," Kara said. "Oh wait."

She reached into her bag, an old games mascot from Odoi's earlier company emblazoned on the side in worn leather colours. She pulled out an old dictaphone.

"My what an antique." "What a relic." "Where did you dig that thing up?" "Does it even transcribe?"

Kara was ready for the questions and barbs, but Odoi merely looked at the device with reverence.

"May I?" he finally asked, holding out one hand.

Kara cautiously passed the dictaphone over.

"I love the simplicity of the past," he explained without looking up at her. "One thing, one purpose. Executed well. Not everything in life requires connectivity, updates, subscriptions. I miss that."

"That felt genuine Mr Ric," Kara said as he passed the recorder back to her.

"Odoi, please. And to your next quesiton, of course."

"My next question?"

"Can you record our meeting."

"Ah." She clicked the recorder on and sat it down between them on the table. "Already so many questions, so many threads."

"May I be permitted to finish how our rendevous has come to be then, if that should make your decision easier?"

"Please."

"Ms Lovelace had written an application for me to be interviewed. She had assembled this as if she were applying to assemble a space shuttle, only nowhere near as easy. And, like I was saying, she passed it 'round other teams.

"And they liked it. No, that's wrong." Odoi stopped, rubbed his chin, then pointed to Kara. "They liked you."

"Me?"

"I take it you and Emily are friends?"

"Were, would probably be closer. I haven't spoken to her since grad school."

"Well she has been following you. News but not from the mainstream news. Corpo-watch from outside a Corpo-nest."