Akira

Many people disliked paperwork. However, Akira enjoyed it. He had almost perfected it to an art, like his hand-painted daruma dolls for each acquisition, or his ornate calligraphy, or even the occasional origami. Everything he did he did to its utmost perfection, and that included paperwork. Every field was filled, every page initialed and dated, every signature line signed and witnessed and notarized. Even the optional fields were filled in with a N/A when truly not applicable. There was nothing left to interpretation when Akira Taito submitted a form, whether it was a firearm discharge report, or an order form for flowers and a sympathy card for the family of a former bodyguard, or the acquisition form for a new bodyguard. Akira approached each form like a puzzle enthusiast approached the Sólday 3D crossword.

Today, he was balancing the org charts for the latest rounds of acquisitions. All-in-all, the Geomys staff increased the head-count by two. They had some AIs, but none of them came over. One they sold to a branch of Solstice QuantBank, and the other was stolen. In addition to the two founders, they had one FTE and one contractor. The FTE disappeared under mysterious circumstances, and the contractor declined an offer. Though, based on the tentative background report on her, Akira doubted she would have fit under the Araiguma umbrella. So, it was just the two founders, the Visionary and the Integrator.

He looked at the chart for another recent acquisition, CodeRune, a group of hacker-monks who turned their monastery into a for-profit organization, solving pain-points for other entities, until they were profitable to attract the attention of Araiguma. Their org chart was not right. It was too flat and wide. It did not adhere to the Rule of Seven. There was one head monk, and under him, the rest of the monks. There was no layered accountability. Each monk worked in isolation, or at best in pairs, and only had to account to the head monk and the customer. It was a marvel that this business was profitable at all.

He picked up the nodes of the monks and structured them based on the ME-Score of each individual. Within a business, there are leaders, and there are doers. The ME-Score was a quick and relatively effective way to determine who was management material, and who was engineering material. After the software prettified his graph, it still didn't look right. Too many of the monks were still high on the E-scale, and not enough were high on the M-scale.

He solved this by putting a cluster under the Geomys acquisition, grouping them by affinity. The rest, he'd try to distribute around the rest of the company as appropriate. Once he was happy with the design of the new org charts, he leaned back, smiled, and prepared to fill out the appropriate form to make it so.

As he was putting the finishing touches on the Org Restructure form, his door chimed. “Come in,” he said without looking up. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a lumbering frame enter through the door. The figure just stood there, waiting. Akira submitted the form, and the system made a satisfying beep. Then he looked up at the newcomer. It was a tall, muscular man. He had no hair and his eyes were cold and grey. A deep, pink scar ran across his throat.

“Are you my new bodyguard?” Akira asked.

The man nodded.

Akira pulled up some paperwork on the screen. “Pitt, is it?” he said.

The man nodded again.

“It says here that you don’t have any augments, and that you're unable to speak due to a severe throat injury.” He looked up at Pitt. “You know, there are augments that will allow you to speak again, even in something resembling your natural voice.”

Pitt shrugged.

“Very well. Thank you for introducing yourself to me. I'll make sure to page you whenever I head out into the Real World. In the meantime, please feel free to hone your arts. It says here that you're an expert in jiu-jitsu. Did you know that while popularized in Brazil, it gets its roots in Japan? It's quite a fascinating history. I'll have to tell you all about it some time. Now, you're dismissed.”

Pitt nodded before leaving.

Akira watched the scroll of numbers flicker by, like waves cresting onto a shore. It was relaxing, and he could do it all day, but his job was to influence the tide, not lose himself in it. He was the moon, not the bobbing ship. He sat up, straightened his tie, stretched his back. He stood to his feet and stepped into the hallway. This level was a maze of offices with frosted glass doors. Each door had a name written upon it, and within each office a world of possibility existed. Silhouettes performed behind the glass, like shadow puppets on a cave wall. Their voices were murmurs, expressing only emotion void of all other meaning. There were no cubicles or open desks on this level, and because of that, it was quiet. Akira walked past his shelf of daruma dolls, their eyes watching him as he passed. He made his way to the coffee bar.

While it was called a “coffee bar,” it provided an array of other beverages, and on this level, elegant snacks to accompany them. Akira poured himself a steaming cup of green tea. The aroma of genmaicha filled the air. He helped himself to a few honey cakes, and while he sipped the tea and nibbled the cakes, he planned his next moves. The infinitude of possibility lay before him like a tangled forest, and it was up to him to chart the most optimal path through.

The steam of the tea fogged his glasses.

Eremiya entered and prepared himself an elaborate cup of coffee. It was mostly milk and sugar and chocolate, with just a touch of coffee, but to each their own.

“How was the birthday party?” Akira said.

“About as much as you could expect from a group of children. They had absolutely no game when it came to the piñata.” He fished a handful of candy from his pocket. “Paleta payaso?” he said, holding out a chocolate marshmallow lollipop with gummy candies giving the impression of a smiling face. Akira held up the honey cake in his hand in a gesture of polite declination. Eremiyah shrugged, and after depositing the surplus onto the plate with the more elegant snacks, unwrapped the candy, and stirred his steaming coffee with it. The clown face melted as he stirred his drink. He took a sip and made a sound as if to indicate that it was good, but maybe just barely so. “Are you ready for the Senior Leadership meeting?” he said.

Akira nodded. “Our numbers are good,” he said. “So I have nothing to worry about you.”

Eremiya nodded. “Business has been great,” he said. “Of course, when we eliminate the competition, that's to be expected.”

Akira chuckled. Eremiya pulled the withered paper stick of the lollipop from his drink and tossed it into the nearby trash bin where it disappeared with a flash. “Did you hear that the Event party is going to happen on a dirigible this year?” Akira said.

Eremiya took another sip. “You don't say,” he said. “I'm surprised that we even still have Event parties.”

“The expenditure is almost certainly worth the gain in productivity. Will you be attending?”

Eremiya took another sip, then he set the mug down on the counter. “Not on your life,” he said. “Would you?”

Akira raised his cup to his mouth, let the grassy and crisp aroma of the tea linger on his senses, then he took a sip of the hot beverage. “No,” he said. “Probably not.”

Eremiya picked his mug off the counter. “Well, if you'll excuse me, I have some business to wrap up before the Senior Leadership meeting. I hear this one is going to be deadly.”

Akira watched him leave. He glanced at the pile of candy on the platter, chaos to the beautiful order of the honey cakes and other assorted snacks. He picked up one called Vero Mango and put it in his pocket, then he returned to his office to prepare for the Senior Leadership meeting.