Page 30 of Never Enough

She didn’t nod, but she didn’t shake him off, either. “What makes you say that?”

“Your accent is softer than the city. Definitely not the EastEnd and not Welsh.” He smiled. “So, Haskell from Northern England, you gonna let me hang out here for a while after I finish playing doctor with you?”

11

SEPTEMBER 9, 2022

Nemo

“Jesus Christ, Midas, I know it’s Los Angeles, and it’s hot, but could you turn the temperature to above freezing in here?” TB groused. “It’s so cold in here my balls have pulled up into my body and popped out as nipples.”

“Pull up your big-girl thong and layer, asshole,” Midas retorted, not even looking up from his computer monitor. “If you’d wear a shirt that was your size and not a shmedium, it wouldn’t be stretched so tight you can see through it. And if those are your balls, I feel bad for Flame. I might need to stop by and see if she has any unfulfilled needs.”

“Fuckwitch,” TB grunted.

Nemo was sitting cross-legged on the end of Midas’ desk, feeding his face with NikNaks and watching the show. He’d originally come into his brother’s new office under the lure of the contraband shipment of snacks they were both addicted to,but then he stayed to watch Haskell on the monitor since Waters banned him from going into the conference room. Every so often, he threw a chip to Scheherazade on the floor beneath him.

“I’m not sure what’s worse,” TB grumbled. “The temperature in here, the lack of windows, or the fact that I feel like I’m living in Orwell’s1984with all these telescreens.”

Midas pulled up from his keyboard. “Look, my girls run twenty-four seven, and the space heats up to equator temperature. Windows allow the sunlight in, which adds to the heat factor. They’ll PMS and blow up the building if I don’t keep the room cold. So either put on a jacket, go buy a snuggie, or take it like a man.”

He started to go back to typing, then pulled back, pointing around the room as he ranted. “And as far as the screens go, we’ve got a lot of shit to keep track of on-site alone. I’ve got one screen of thumbnails per twenty security cameras inside this ten-floor heaven we call home. Do you haveanyclue how many cameras that is? Two hundred and fucking eighty-seven! I’ve got an additional screen that has all the outside cameras except for the roof. That fucker has its own screen with four different views of the helipad.

“You guys want intel? That means I need to know what’s going on all over this big blue marble, so I’ve got six different screens attuned to twenty-four-hour news channels. Do you know how annoying that is? It never stops! All the rest, with the exception of the beauty behind Nemo, are responsible for keeping tabs on whatever shit you all need me to monitor while you’re off playing Doom reality-style.”

“Last, but so not least, is my baby, Nova, on the last screen. She runs this harem when I can’t. She watches over all your sorry asses without any thanks from you ungrateful bastards. She runs everything, from your smart watches, your navigationsystems, your computer systems, and even your personal security systems in your apartments. Thanks to the glorious creation the world calls AI, but I call heaven, she’s not just a watchdog spy cam program anymore like Cyclopes was. So get off my frickin’ ass about the temperature in here, or I’ll turn her off and see how well you all function without her.”

TB squinted at Midas. “Do I need to bring you some ice cream? Cuz, I gotta say, you’re acting like Flame used to when it was that time?—”

“Don’t fucking say it!” Midas roared.

TB held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. He looked at Nemo.

Nemo shrugged. “I don’t think he’s eaten yet today. Better order in.” He popped another chip in his mouth.

“You mean one of these eight bajillion monitors can’t do it for him?”

A projectile hit TB in the side of the head—one of the mini rubber cats Midas collected and used as stress balls. TB happened to catch it by default with a grunt. Its body was a stack of pancakes, complete with butter and syrup, and then the head, feet, and tail of a cat. “Kubrick gave you this one.”

“Yes, she did, so give it back, you pathetic shitfucker.”

With a snort, TB tossed the cat back to Midas, who set it back on his shelf behind his desk, making sure it was perfectly aligned with all the others.

TB looked to Nemo for help against his brother. Reaching into the chip bag, extracting a chip, and bringing it up to his mouth, Nemo reminded him, “Normally, it’s me ambushing you.”

“Yeah… speaking of which, neither Flame nor I are cleaning up the confetti in the garage at her house, so you’d better get over there and get sweeping.”

“Sorry. Don’t know how to use a broom,” Nemo lied.

“Why don’t you ever ambush your brother?”

Midas let out a frustrated grunt. “Because you stomp around, yell, and get pissy. He knows that if he did that to me, I’d just fucking strangle him with computer cables. Something I should have done with the umbilical cord as soon as we were out of the womb!” Midas looked over at Nemo, calmly continuing to eat his chips. “And you! Stop eating my chips, you genetic mutant. Order your own!”

“Why?” Nemo asked with his mouth full. “You order enough for both of us.”

A rubber cat designed like an ice cream cone hit Nemo square in the forehead and bounced down into the near-empty bag of chips. “There’s no eating in my office! All the crumbs get in the hardware.”

Nemo shrugged and showed the toy to TB. “From Flame?”

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