Chapter 1

"Congratulations, you've been optimized. "

When HR said this with a smile, I was still trying to decide between a sandwich or salad for lunch. I'd spent five years at this company. N+1 severance. Out by the end of the month. As I was packing up my box, my mom called—

"Perfect timing—you're free now. Go collect rent from those tenants at our business park who are behind on payments. "

I looked at my termination letter, then at the list of delinquent tenants she'd sent me. Third on the list was the company that had just fired me. Three months overdue. Eight hundred and seventy thousand dollars. I lit a cigarette and stood at the bottom of the office building, laughing for a good while. **Chapter One**

"Congratulations, you've been optimized. "

When Hayley Chase said this, the curve of her smile was precise enough to have been measured. Eight teeth showing. Exactly like the day she interviewed me five years ago. So this smile comes as a package deal, I guess. One when you enter, another when you leave. "N+1. Just finish the exit procedures before the end of the month. "

She slid the agreement across the table, her fingernail tapping the signature line. "Sign here, Ethan. "

I'd worked at Apex Interactive for five years. We specialized in short video content operations. After Series B funding, we never secured Series C. Translation: we were running out of money. "Optimization" had become the company's most frequently used word this year. More than "let's go," more than "hit those targets," more than the "conserve paper" signs in the bathroom. Last month, half of marketing got cut. The month before, customer service was completely eliminated. I'd always thought that as a five-year veteran, I'd at least be in one of the last batches. Turns out I was first. The door opened. Marcus Hayes, the Operations Director, walked in carrying an americano. His tie was impeccably knotted, his hair slicked back enough to use as a mirror. "Ethan, thanks for everything, man. "

He patted my shoulder. His tone had that tragic quality of sending a comrade to his death. I glanced down at his hand. It was shaking. You patted my shoulder, you made the face, but the trembling hand is a bit much. A month ago, I'd pulled two all-nighters on a user growth proposal. He copied it word-for-word into his weekly presentation. The cover read "Operations Director Marcus Hayes" in 48-point font, bold, centered. My name appeared on page thirty-seven in the bottom right corner. Six-point font. Light gray. You'd need to zoom in 200% to even see it. He won Best Manager of the Quarter with that proposal. Twenty thousand dollar bonus. Not a cent of it came my way. Then at the layoff committee meeting, he was the first to raise his hand. His reasoning: "This position has low output. Eliminating it won't significantly impact the department. "

I knew why he was so eager to kick me out. Keeping me around meant keeping a witness. If I ever let something slip, the whole proposal situation would come out. "Just sign. " He crossed his legs and sat on the sofa. "The company's compensation package is very generous. N+1. "

I looked at the agreement. N+1, five years of service—theoretically six months' salary. But after deducting perfect attendance bonuses, downgrading performance coefficients, and something called an "optimization contribution fee"—

I'd get four and a half months. "What's this 'optimization contribution fee'? " I asked. Hayley didn't even look up. "Company policy. "

So I'm getting laid off and still have to pay into it? Should I thank the company for firing me while I'm at it? I didn't argue. I picked up the pen. Signed. There was no point arguing. I'd seen this play out before. Back at my desk to pack up. The entire floor was as quiet as a morgue. About twenty people, none of them looked up. The clatter of keyboards filled the air as everyone pretended to be busy. An intern snuck a glance at me, got elbowed by the person next to him, and quickly ducked his head back down. Doug from the next cubicle reached over with his hand, a crumpled paper ball in his palm. I opened it. "BBQ tonight, my treat. Don't be down. "

Below it he'd drawn a pile of poop and a stick figure flipping the bird. I pocketed the note. With that artistic ability, his optimization is just a matter of time. I didn't have much. A thermos, a dying succulent, a USB drive. Five years. This was all I'd accumulated. I carried the box toward the elevator. Passing Marcus's office, the door was half-open. He was on the phone, voice low, but I could hear clearly—

"Handled. No drama. People like that, just throw enough money at them... "

I didn't stop. When the elevator doors closed, I was alone inside. Walking out of the building, the sunlight made me squint. The twenty-six-story glass facade gleamed in the sun. The sign at the entrance read: Kingston Tech Park, Building A. Standing there, I felt like expired bubble tea that had been thrown out. Unwanted, but somehow not really a big deal. My phone rang. My mom. "Sweetheart! What are you up to? "

"Just... got off work. "

"Perfect! " Her tone was suspiciously excited, like she'd been waiting for this. "Your dad's back is acting up. Some tenants at the park are behind on rent. Go collect it for us. "

"What park? "

"The one where you work! Kingston Tech Park! We own it! "

I looked at the building in front of me. Then down at the box in my hands. "... Mom, say that again? "

"Kingston Tech Park! Your dad bought it fifteen years ago.