Daniel Roberts, administrative head of worldwide distributions for IRCorp, stepped uneasily into the plush outer office of the CEO. It was tastefully decorated in the latest style trends and steeped in opulence, as reflected by the heavy use of genuine wood trim and furnishings. He looked over at the secretary, entrenched behind a veritable fortress of a desk. He knew the desk was real mahogany, not the synth wood, and had probably cost more than his gross annual income. The secretary was a plain-looking woman of indeterminable age, whose gray-streaked dark blonde hair was pulled tightly back into a meticulous bun. She seemed to be busy working, with a VR lens flipped down over her left eye, while her fingers manipulated something only she could see. Roberts waited impatiently while she continued to ignore him — deliberately, he was sure.

He didn’t care much for being treated like some third-rate flunky. “Fuck you, you uptight bitch,” he thought venomously as he looked at the extravagant desk. ”A desk like that, just for the secretary?” She finally made a swiping motion with one hand, flipped the lens away from her eye, and looked wordlessly up at him with flat dark eyes that would do a rat justice.

Roberts asked, ”Is he in?” Barely suppressing a snarl, he managed to keep his tone civil.

“Mister Azadi is in his office and waiting for you,” she said severely, emphasizing the name and title. ”I have already notified him of your presence, and I suggest that you not keep him waiting much longer.”

He nodded brusquely. “Thanks,” he said, silently adding ”... and fuck you again!” in his head. She was back at work, having already dismissed him from her attention.

He stepped around the desk to the richly detailed double doors leading to the inner office, noting absently that they were also natural mahogany. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his jittering nerves, and knocked.

“Come,” said a pleasant baritone voice from within. Steeling himself, Roberts opened one of the doors and stepped inside. The inner office was at least three times the size of the outer office, also tastefully and lavishly decorated, but with strange gothic overtones. The monstrous desk, which dwarfed the secretary’s stronghold, was pure polished ebony, and of course there was no doubt that it was real wood. He didn’t even know how one could get a desk like this, since ebony had been among the first types of lumber that was banned from logging many years ago. Behind the desk, a wall-sized window looked out over the city of Tulsa. Once a laid-back Midwest city of moderate size, Tulsa had boomed into a massive sprawling metropolis nearly overnight when IRCorp had set up its corporate offices there. Whatever IRCorp touched flourished, and the man who stood looking out the window undeniably controlled IRCorp.

Ozcar Azadi was about six feet tall, and in the kind of physical shape that only a man with nearly limitless wealth could maintain. Even though he was nearly seventy-eight years old, he appeared to be in his mid-forties, thanks to phenomenally expensive regenerative therapy. His jet black hair was perfectly trimmed in a short, almost military style. He was dressed in an understated, albeit insanely expensive dark blue suit that was immaculately tailored right down to his custom made shoes. His hands were clasped behind his back as he gazed out the window.

“Thank you for being punctual Daniel, that is an excellent trait. I appreciate a man who doesn’t waste my time. What is it that you needed to see me about?” Azadi spoke in a calm and pleasant tone, but his voice resonated with a distinct air of absolute authority.

“Um, yes sir, thank you, Mr. Azadi. Ah, you wanted to be notified when the last augmented immersion chair was delivered.” Daniel stammered. He silently cursed himself for behaving like a damned green intern.

Azadi turned from the window and looked at Roberts with raised eyebrows. ”And that couldn’t have been accomplished via interoffice communications? Was it truly necessary to make time for a face-to-face?” There was a tight smile on his face, but his gray eyes were cold and hard.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Roberts thought frantically to himself. Swallowing hard, he replied, ”Well sir, there has been somewhat of a... um, a glitch, sir.”

The faint smile disappeared from Azadi’s face. ”And what sort of ‘glitch’ might that be, exactly?” Azadi moved away from the window to sit down at his desk, affixing Roberts with that steely gaze all the while. He didn’t invite Roberts to have a seat in one of the bulky chairs facing the desk. Daniel felt sweat beginning to bead up on his forehead, and a droplet trickled down his back. The gothic decor of the room around him begin to take on a more sinister aspect.

“Well sir, um, the last augmented chair was apparently delivered to the wrong address.” He quick-viewed some notes on his wrist link. “It went to a Mr. Peter Briggs, of Collinsville, Oklahoma. That’s approximately 35 miles from—”

“I’m aware of where Collinsville is, Mr. Roberts.” Azadi began to drum his perfectly manicured nails on the desktop with a contemplative air. ”What else?”

“Ah... Mr. Briggs is a retired IRCorp employee, sir. He worked in AI repair.” Roberts could feel the sweat trickling down the side of his face now.

“So, an IRCorp employee with AI experience received an augmented chair? While this is not particularly thrilling news, I would think it could easily be remedied by recalling the chair on some pretense or another, and giving him a replacement. Offer him some meaningless game bonus for his inconvenience. I applaud your initiative in bringing this to my attention, Daniel, but I don’t see where it’s a problem that requires my intervention.”

“Sir, he received the chair two days ago, and it has already been activated.” Roberts tried to conceal the trembling of his hands from the CEO’s view. Azadi stopped drumming on the desk and his jaw muscles flexed as he deliberated.

“This is not good news, Mr. Roberts, not good at all.” Azadi’s grim and quiet voice scared Roberts more than a shouting fit might have done. ”Recalling the chair at this time would be useless. An interesting situation… .” Azadi turned his chair around and looked out the window again, sitting quietly for some time. Roberts maintained silence, waiting in dread for the axe to fall. Finally, Azadi spoke, ”The distribution system is overseen by an AI, is that correct?”

“Yes sir.”

“Hmm… unusual that it should make such a blatant error, wouldn’t you agree?”

“No sir… er, I mean, yes sir! I agree that it is very peculiar!” Roberts faltered.

“Go see Mr. Hensfield in IT. Instruct him to monitor Mr. Briggs in game for the time being, but discreetly — nothing overt. If he has any questions, have him contact me directly, understood?”

“Yes sir, right away!” Roberts felt a wave of relief wash across him as he turned to leave, but then Azadi stopped him with an upheld hand.

“Also, have Mr. Hensfield assign some of his best technicians to examine that distribution AI quite thoroughly.”

“Yes sir!” Roberts turned and very nearly ran from the room. When the door had closed, Mr. Azadi leaned back in his chair with his hands clasped across his chest.

“Archon,” Azadi said, addressing his personal AI.

“Yes sir? What is your command?” responded a richly modulated baritone voice.

“Advise Mr. Ward that we have a situation which is currently under control, but I may have need of his services soon. Secure communications, no records please.”

“In progress, Mr. Azadi.”

“Thank you, Archon.” Azadi turned once more to the window, but his gaze wasn’t focused on the city spread out below him. Unconsciously, he began twisting a heavy ring around on his right middle finger. ”I do detest situations,” he murmured.