172 — Project Enkrateia

All the board’s attention is on me. I can see a mixture of surprise, curiosity, and fascination in the board’s eyes as they follow the slides, in the expressions that take different forms as I present my project, which, honestly, I don’t know how to define.
Innovative?
Utopic?
*Crazy?*
“Who is affected by this leak? What’s the *data?”* I pause dramatically, adding to the tension. “These people have faces, names, and this data is like a key to their lives, their intimacy, their security. And they don’t even know how much it impacts their lives. We must change that... By making everything public and allowing them to search personally.”
“Make it public?” Director Bald scoffs. “Are you trying to finish Dynamic’s reputation? We’re only considering saving it because this data hasn’t been made public. If they know the extent...”
“That’s precisely why we should give them the chance to find out before the media get their hands on it. The police are investigating thoroughly and making arrests this week; things could get out of hand at any moment. If Dynamic itself opts for transparency in a change of management, we can win a vote of confidence from the public.” I say calmly, trying not to sound too agitated.
Director Bald narrows his eyes.
“And how do you plan to turn this to our advantage? It doesn’t matter if we’re faster. The media could turn it against us anyway.”
“Miss O’Neil could tell you if you let her talk.” Mitch interrupts him, causing the man to shut up and wilt in his chair. He looks at me quickly, giving me a discreet wink, encouraging me to continue. Well, if that’s his way of apologizing for what happened last boys’ night, I think I can live with it.
“The software created by our company will allow anyone to search for data leaks anonymously... all they have to do is type and find out if they’ve been exposed. Names, e-mails, addresses, phone numbers, IDs, public docs… There will be no need for anything complex, no consultancy or payment. Everything anonymously. It won’t matter how it happened, whether it was a security breach at a third party, a slip-up by the person, or a sale of data, just that it happened and that we can provide the solution to it.”
Everyone stays silent, listening intently to my explanation, while images of the project flash across the screen.
“This software will be a free tool, but we can make profits from it. Even if the point is to *regain trust* and *re-enter the market after a scandal that could bankrupt the company,* we can make money from it. If we forget the old approach and focus on a new public, the new audience will be more receptive, especially as we are delivering something accessible and of general use.”
“And what new public would that be?” Director Bald grumbles, impatient but less aggressively... perhaps because Mitch’s gaze is as sharp as Daddy’s.
“Cyber security,” I say with a discreet smile, pointing at the screen. “If you focus on cyber security, Dynamic Co. can sell a solution to the leakage of this data while giving people the knowledge about it and the call to change it.”
I hear some murmurs and eyes that are now sparkling with interest. Well, it’s no surprise - just putting money in the middle is enough to spark interest.
“But for all this to be possible, the software will need a database that will encompass all the leaks. Ideally, it would be filled with leaks from Dynamic Co. and other scandals. It won’t be possible to tell what caused what from our sources, and it will be enough that we offer the solution and the protection of this data. Well, it may sound a bit ironic, considering that we’ll be selling the solution to a problem caused by the company itself, but in general, people will accept it as a form of redemption since we’ll also be bringing in leaks from other companies... as if we were throwing them all into the fire.”
“Are you proposing that Dynamic shifts its focus to cyber security, then?” Director Bald asks uncertainly, almost embarrassed, scratching the back of his head. His dislike of the project is evident. No, it seems he’s unhappy with it all, even with the company he bought. I wonder if he acted that way at Sarah and the Manager’s presentation, but I can’t afford to worry about it at the moment.
*“Enkrateia* is a project that really gets to the root of the problem in order to solve it, and maybe that sounds really complicated to invest in. Time and money are precious things. But trust is even more important, especially when it has already been broken once. And this project brings the concept of *fixing* and *innovating* at the same time. What’s more, it’s a versatile project that can be expanded and adapted to a wide range of real-world scenarios. The forecasts we make don’t always consider important things such as public opinion, and success for any product is the reception of its audience. If there are no people, there is nothing... After all, technology is nothing more than a tool for humanity.”
My eyes meet Julian’s again, making me notice the glint that makes the green hue even brighter. He gives me a discreet but warm smile, and I feel able to breathe again.
I look at the screen once more, starting to work out the details. *“The database needs to be big enough to hold billions of different pieces of data. That will require a large investment, especially in the creation of machines to support the servers...”*
… I continue the meeting smoothly, with no questions arising during the explanation. Perhaps it’s because I’ve been doing this all night under Julian’s watchful eye, but it seems natural to me to talk about *Enkrateia,* this project that was born out of my desire to take back control and the understanding that many other people suffer because of many other imposing situations.
My dream of helping these people regain their confidence, just as I did, moves me and makes the words roll confidently off my tongue. And I know that’s not much - I’m not going to solve all the world’s problems with this project, and I’m certainly not going to stop data from continuing to be leaked and sold, but at least it will make a difference to someone.
Somehow, I also think I understand how Jack felt when he dreamed of this company, a place that would make dreams possible through technology... He probably felt that his life would have meaning.
And I really hope I can contribute to his legacy in some way, even if just a bit.

[...] “And with that, I end the presentation of the project.” I bow slightly in gratitude, and everyone thanks me for my time with almost somber expressions.
When I leave the Conference Room, my legs immediately feel weak and numb. I lean against the wall, sweat dripping down the inside of my blouse.
*How did things go?* I can’t say. They seemed really interested in the project while I was presenting the details for an hour and a half, but now that the adrenaline is rushing, all the uncertainty, fear, and insecurity is hitting me hard.
My cell phone vibrates in my skirt pocket with a message from Julian. He probably typed it very quickly because there were a few typos, and even though he says he can’t accompany me right now, my heart warms that he thought of me. He’s busy with the board’s discussion, trying to clean his agenda for the important meeting tomorrow. We’re finally going to the Adam’s Villa… I’m finally meeting with his family… And now that the presentation is over, I can also be nervous about it.
I take a deep breath, my eyes locked on the clock that points past two. I missed lunchtime; I should grab something because my babies can’t be hungry any longer.
I type a quick reply to Julian and put my phone away again, forcing my legs into the elevator. I’m considering what to eat when I remember that Tyler always replenishes the bakery at this time... And just thinking about his *petit four* makes me drool.
Well… Julian won’t be angry if I eat some, right?
I press the button for the first floor, excited by the idea of coffee and sweets. At this point, I can’t tell if it’s me who’s a lover of Tyler’s coffee shop or if it’s my children. I’m definitely having a big sweet tooth lately, especially since he’s enjoying feeding me with his *experiments and inventions.* This thought makes me giggle, and I find myself stroking my belly as the numbers descend on the elevator’s display.
And thankfully, the metal doors don’t take too long to open again, on the first floor.
The people who are going up hold the door for me to go through, and I thank them with a smile as I walk to the exit, my mind far away...
However, I see someone familiar standing in the middle of the almost empty reception area... Someone I thought I would never see again, who I hoped to remove from my life, from my memories...
But she’s here, walking towards me as soon as she sets her hateful eyes on me, making the blood drain from my face.
My feet suddenly freeze on the floor, and the hand that was caressing my belly hangs around my body. A shiver runs up my spine, but I can’t move. All the memories of that night flash through my head... The cruel things she said, her disgusting lies.
She’s walking towards me awkwardly, but I can’t move a muscle.
There’s something dark in the expression of the woman I used to see dearest. I saw her true colors when her whole plan fell apart, but today, she looks different. Her crazy eyes seem almost empty. It’s almost like she lost what little sanity she had left.
And with every step she gives, my instincts scream at me to move away... But I can’t. My legs don’t respond.
A bead of sweat runs down my spine.
*“You...”* She mumbles, her lips trembling.
“What are you doing here, Mrs. Smith?” I try not to be nervous, but my voice comes out higher than I’d like.
*“It’s your fault...”* She continues so low that I can barely hear her. *“Everything... Everything is your fault.”*
I feel a chill, but I try to keep my chin up when she finally stops a few steps away. Her face is still low, and she’s looking down at her feet, mumbling something I don’t understand.
Around us, other employees also stop to observe the strangely familiar scene...
“Why? WHY, WHY?” Mrs. Smith suddenly shouts, making me jump. She raises her face in a fury... her expression contorted into pure, true hatred, and eyes so insane that I feel like throwing up. “WHY DID YOU SET MY SON UP?”
“Set your son up?” That’s everything I manage to say, with confusion making me almost dizzy.
“You did it, didn’t you? You DID!” She takes a step towards me, and finally, my body reacts, instinctively making me take a step back. “You set Eric up! You and this shitty company of yours... *you framed them!* You put him in jail! Because of you, my son... *You destroyed Eric’s life!”*