In a world of signals that are sent at the speed of light, it only takes a split second to break a life. The man in the digital conference falls forward, like a broken puppet. His head is disfigured, rendered unrecognizable by the electrical discharge. Somewhere in the world, another man smiles. He detaches the program from the console, and sneaks away. Someone is getting paid, tonight.
You've been pushed by pride, and look where it broughts you. It really is possible! But you fear that your creation could be used as a weapon. In fact, you're certain of it. Almost mathematical.
No one takes payment in pride. You do this work for one reason. They were smart enough to figure it out, and you promised them the product. And you're going to deliver it.
When you heard the proposal, you struggled to maintain a nonchalant attitude. This stuff changes the rules of the game. And you get to decide what rules will be changed.
Isn't that the hardest part of your job? Deciding what to do with the news when you have it in your hands.
Opportunities like this rarely come up. And you've already thought about the right environments where to pitch yourself.
You want to see it through. If it's really possible, the possibilities are many. Maybe too many to keep track of.