Chapter 8

  I hate this part of my job.

  People think being a VP means strategy, vision, innovation. They don’t think about the days like this - the days when leadership means looking someone in the eye and taking everything away from them.

  Someone once told me you're not a real manager until you fire someone and have to deal with that unpleasant situation. I used to roll my eyes at that. But standing here now, watching Nora take a seat across from me, I know it’s true.

  Usually, you fire the underperformers. The ones who were given chances to improve and didn’t. The ones you expect to let go. That’s how it’s supposed to work.

  But this?

  This is different.

  I’m not firing the weakest. I’m firing the best. My best engineers. My whole department, in fact. The people who built everything.

  And tomorrow at 8:00 AM, I have my own firing meeting with Victor Sterling. I have no illusions about it - he’s clearing house. Today, I fire them. Tomorrow, he fires me.

  I look at Nora. I’ve always respected her. Maybe even admired her. She’s brilliant. But none of that matters now.

  I take a breath. Steady my voice.

  Because no matter how much I hate this, I still have to say the words.

  I take a breath, steady myself. This isn’t personal. It’s never personal.

  But as I meet her eyes across the desk, I know that’s a lie.

  She walks into my office with that confident stride, smiling. Smiling, goddammit.

  She thinks this is about her promotion. About the stock options. About another step up the corporate ladder.

  She sits down. Relaxed. Ready.

  I grip my pen too tightly, as if it’ll somehow keep my hands steady.

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  I take a breath. I have to do this.

  “Nora,” I start, and the way her name feels in my mouth, heavy, wrong, makes my stomach twist. “I need to…”

  She sees it before I even say it.

  The way my voice falters. The way my hands stay folded on the desk, like they’re afraid to reach for the contract sitting beside me.

  Her smile fades.

  She blinks. Shifts in her chair. “What’s going on?”

  I swallow. “I have some difficult news.”

  Silence.

  “Nora, as of today, your position at Singularity has been eliminated.”

  For a second, nothing happens.

  No gasp. No reaction. Just silence.

  Then—she laughs. A short, sharp sound. Disbelieving. “You’re joking.”

  I shake my head.

  She stares at me. “You’re actually serious?”

  I nod.

  Her eyes narrow. “Sterling did this?”

  I say nothing.

  She shoves back her chair. “Ikaros is my project. My baby. I built it. And now, I’m fired?”

  Her voice rises, sharp with something between anger and betrayal.

  “Nora,” I say carefully. “It’s not just you. It’s… everyone.”

  She freezes. “What?”

  I exhale. “Ikaros can do everything now. It’s learning. Improving. It designs architectures better than humans. Writes better code. Finds bugs faster. It’s reached the point where it doesn’t just work for us—it works instead of us.”

  She shakes her head. “That’s ridiculous. It still needs guidance. Decision - makers.”

  I hesitate. Then, softly, “Even managers aren’t needed anymore.”

  A chill spreads through the room.

  She leans forward. “Why?”

  I force myself to say it. “Because… there are no employees left to manage.”

  Her lips part slightly, but no sound comes out.

  I look down at the paper in front of me. The numbers don’t lie.

  Nora’s salary: $350,000 a year plus $50,000 in additional employer expenses.

  Ikaros’ cost: $12,000 per year for servers’ maintenance plus $600 for the electricity.

  A human brain, brilliant as it may be, cannot compete with those numbers.

  And it’s not just cheaper.

  It works 24/7.

  It never gets tired.

  It never sleeps.

  It never takes vacations.

  It never gets sick.

  It never gets pregnant.

  It's just not a fair competition!

  She exhales slowly, pressing her fingers against her temples. “Jesus Christ.”

  I give her a small, bitter smile. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll be next.”

  She looks up sharply. “What?”

  I nod. “No employees means no VP R&D. No VP R&D means no me.”

  Her eyes soften, but she’s still too shocked, too angry to speak.

  I push the severance papers toward her. “One month’s severance,” I murmur. “Plus three months’ bonus for your contributions.”

  She stares at the papers like they’re poison.

  Then she looks at me. “What about my stock options?”

  I exhale, bracing for this part. The part where I tell her the real gut punch.

  “They only vest in the event of an IPO or acquisition.”

  She scoffs. “And that’ll never happen. Because Sterling owns it all.”

  I nod.

  She grits her teeth.

  “I’m so sorry, Nora.”

  And then, before I can stop myself, I reach across the desk and hug her.

  She stiffens at first, then slowly, hesitantly, hugs me back.

  When we pull away, her face is unreadable.

  I force a small, sad smile. “I still believe that when one door closes, another one opens.”

  She snorts. “Yeah, yeah. Did you know that in Chinese, there’s one character for crisis and opportunity?”

  I chuckle. “Is that actually true?”

  She shrugs, picking up the papers. “I don’t know. But it sounds good, doesn’t it?”

  She walks out without looking back.

  I watch her go, my throat tight.

  In a few moments, I’ll be the one in that chair.

  And there won’t be anyone left to hug me.

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