Page 83 of Fake It For Glory

JENSEN

It was going to be a good day. I could feel it in my bones. We were in the home stretch for the tech. I spent hours poring over the little details and felt good about it. I kicked it back to the developers and they were fine-tuning it all once again.

It was a back-and-forth game. They worked on it and sent it to me. I tweaked it and sent it to them. By the time we were done, we should have it perfect. I knew it was tedious and my team was probably ready to scream with all the constant redoing of the tiniest bits of code, but that was how I worked. Only the best. It had to be the best.

I pulled my cup of coffee from under the machine and inhaled before dumping in some of the flavored cream Merida got me hooked on. I took my coffee to the balcony that stretched around one corner of my penthouse. That was a rarity and another reason I bought the place. I loved being outside. It was cold, but I didn’t mind. Judging by the billowing gray clouds coming in from the sea, it was going to rain. We were being set up for a cold, dreary day.

And I didn’t mind a bit.

From far below, I could hear the typical sounds of Manhattan. It was loud with sirens screaming, car horns honking, and people shouting. But up here, high above the city, it was peaceful. I took a sip of my coffee and leaned against the railing, enjoying the view. The city spread out before me like a blanket of concrete and steel, and I felt like the king of it all.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, letting the cool air fill my lungs. I got a little melancholy thinking about my dad. I wished he could see me now. I would have bought him an apartment just like this, but that wasn’t what he would have wanted. I had a feeling he would prefer a house up north. He’d kill me if I tried to buy him a mansion but I could buy him a decent house with a large chunk of land with a pond. He could fish, garden, and do whatever he wanted. I would make sure he had a big shop to tinker in.

I didn’t know what I believed in, but I hoped my dad was up there somewhere looking down on me and Hattie. I wanted him to see we were okay. He did everything he could to set us up. Without him busting his ass to get me in that school, I didn’t think any of this would be possible. It pissed me off that he didn’t get to see the fruits of his labor. He didn’t get to live in the lap of luxury after working so hard his whole life.

I shook it off and went back inside. I needed to get to the office. There would be time to be sad later.

As I stepped into the bustling office, the excited energy in the air was palpable. My team members, the developers, and everyone else involved in our project were hard at work, their faces lit up with anticipation. The launch was just around the corner, and we were all feeling the pressure, but more importantly, we were feeling the pride and excitement of what we had accomplished. This was going to be our biggest launch yet. My other tech had been good, but this was the kind of thing that could make or break me. If I failed, I could kiss my company goodbye. People didn’t forget. They would turn their backs on my tech, and I would have to lay off hundreds of employees. I could always do a rebrand like so many other tech guys, but I didn’t want to.

I wanted to do it right the first time.

“Morning, everyone!” I called out, my voice filled with enthusiasm.

A chorus of greetings and cheers echoed around the office as I made my way through. The developers were huddled together, going over the final details of the tech, their eyes glued to the screens filled with lines of code. There was a sense of focused determination in the room, and I couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride for the team I had the privilege of leading.

I trusted these people—for the most part. Ultimately, it was my responsibility to finalize everything. I was the one that had to take the hit if something failed. I was the final approval. If we went through the rollout and there were bugs, it fell on me.

I sat down at my desk and turned on my computer, ready to dive into the last-minute preparations. As I scanned the reports and checked the numbers, I couldn’t help but feel a knot forming in my stomach. This was it. The moment of truth. The moment that would define my career and the future of my company.

I ran through the code, reading it like someone would read a book. AI was tricky business. It wasn’t like I could fall back on my training. I didn’t have any training. I was the guy leading the way.

The weight of the responsibility was almost too much to bear. But as I checked and double-checked the code, I knew that we had done everything that we could. This was our masterpiece, our magnum opus. And it was going to change everything.

I went out to the huddle where the developers were busy working.

“Hey, guys,” I said. “How’s it coming along? I want to make sure everything is perfect.”

They looked up at me, their faces filled with exhaustion and excitement.

“It’s almost there,” one of them said before yawning. “Just a few more tweaks and we’ll be ready to send you another run for you to look over.”

I nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. We had put in countless hours of hard work, and it was all about to pay off.

“Alright, let’s do this,” I said, clapping my hands together. “We’ve got a world to change.”

“This is going to be huge,” Sarah said. “Once this is released, you will have literally changed the world.”

“Not me,” I said. “Us.”

“It was your idea,” one of the devs said. “You gave this idea life. We’re just the people that got to work on little bits and pieces.”

“But it’s good,” another one said. “It’s going to work. The bugs we see are unlikely to be seen or realized by any of our users. But we’re going to get them all.”

I nodded, feeling a sense of excitement building within me. “That’s what I like to hear. I have no doubt that we’ve created something truly revolutionary. You guys know the drill. Check, double-check, and I’ll be the triple check. Don’t send me anything you don’t think is perfect. Failure is not an option. If we fail, it’s not the two hundred people that answer phones and do payroll that will be to blame. I believe in holding people accountable.”

It was a quiet, barely veiled threat. Things got very serious.

“I trust you guys,” I said.