Chapter 1
I was docked 30 thousand dollars from my annual bonus for being two minutes late.
The plant manager called me out at the company-wide meeting, saying he wanted to make an example out of me.
I didn't make a scene or argue. I just silently accepted it.
From that day on, I clocked in at the very last second, and as soon as the bell rang, I shut down my computer and walked out.
The March wind still carried a lingering chill, howling through the bare branches of the sycamore trees in the factory yard.
The entire workshop was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
All the machines were shut down, and the usual deafening roar was replaced by a suffocating silence. The only sound was hundreds of people breathing, forming an invisible web that seemed to trap me.
I, Bailey Irwin, was standing right in the middle of that web.
Everyone's eyes were locked on me like spotlights, some filled with sympathy, some gloating, some fearful, and plenty just here for the drama.
Up on the stage, the new plant manager, Jaxson Flores, was clutching the microphone, practically spraying spit everywhere as he ranted.
His greasy face was flushed, the kind of red that comes from being drunk on power.
He said, "What kind of company are we? We're the gold standard for the whole group! And discipline? That's the backbone of our business!"
His voice blared through the speakers, sharp and distorted, grating on everyone's ears like a dull knife.
"But there's always a handful of people. They have no sense of organization, no discipline! They act like they're above it all, like the factory rules just go in one ear and out the other!" he shouted.
His hand shot out, pointing straight at me.
"Bailey Irwin! Tech department engineer! You were two minutes late this morning! Two whole minutes!"
He acted like those two minutes were the biggest crime in the world.
He said, "According to the factory's new rules, it's a hundred bucks for every minute you're late. But two minutes? That's a whole different level. I'm making an example out of you! Bailey's losing his entire annual bonus, 30 thousand dollars! Let everyone take note!"
"30 thousand dollars!"
A wave of shocked gasps rippled through the crowd.
That 30 thousand dollars was the result of a whole year of grinding, pulling all-nighters, tackling one technical headache after another, the only bonus I got for all that effort.
And now, just because of two minutes, it was gone.
I stood there in my washed-out blue uniform, eyes behind my black-rimmed glasses totally blank, not a flicker of emotion.
I was just thinking about how last night I'd been digging through some Lanvian research paper from overseas until four in the morning, just to figure out the K-factor compensation algorithm for the A-7's servo motor.
When my alarm went off, I honestly thought I was still dreaming.
Was there even any point in explaining?
Trying to reason with a power-hungry hatchet man like Jaxson was pointless. It might as well be talking to a wall.
Next to me, my mentor Adrien, a straight-laced engineer in his fifties, was sweating bullets. He kept shooting me desperate looks, mouthing silently, "Just play along, Bailey, just play along."
I saw him, but I just gave a slight shake of my head.
My silence made Jaxson totally snap.
He felt his authority was being threatened, just a techie, and a woman at that, daring to stand there so unfazed in front of him.
He shoved the microphone even closer, practically barking at me. "Bailey, do you have anything to say? Any objections to this punishment? If not, get up here and sign the form!"
He wanted to see me break down, beg for mercy, lose it right there.
Only then would he feel like he'd truly crushed his 'monkey' for all to see.
With hundreds of eyes on me, I made my way up to the stage, one step at a time.
The stairs were short, but every second felt like an eternity.
Each step was like I was stepping on the ashes of a decade of my life.
I took that flimsy disciplinary slip from Jaxson's hand, the black letters writhing like poisonous snakes.
I picked up the pen from the table.
Jaxson wore a smug, victorious grin. He thought I'd finally give in.
I held the pen steady, not a hint of a shake in my hand.
With deliberate strokes, I signed my name on the signature line calmly.
Once I finished, I pushed the disciplinary slip back toward him, never bothering to look at his shocked face. Then I turned and walked away, not hesitating for a second.
The crowd below the stage fell into a hush.
Everyone was caught off guard by how it ended.
No arguments, no tears, just so calm it was like I was signing my name in someone else's story.
I went straight back to my desk, ignoring all the mixed stares behind me. I put on my noise-canceling headphones, booted up my computer, and the unfinished algorithm model from last night instantly popped up on the screen.
Honestly, it felt like the whole mess was just some dumb drama that had nothing to do with me.