It is Sunday evening when Lucy remembers she told Isabella she would try to get her an appointment with the new CEO of Alpha Incorporated. What reminds her of this promise is when she goes to log into Alpha-Ghetto, the online chat room that has become popular among the employees. Lucy, as had become her habit recently, includes a visit to the Ghetto after she has run her course through her other social media platforms. What she likes about this site is that the anonymous users all work at Alpha. The chat room is accessed from a link originally emailed internally to employees, and in the few months since its inception, has quietly spread to become the virtual gathering place for those who want to kick back and have some fun. It is like a community pub with a secret door, hidden behind the official online clubs and cafés. Everyone is welcome, provided they can find it.

But this Sunday, instead of seeing the welcoming orange banner, Lucy runs into a blank page on her laptop screen. She refreshes the page, but still, it is clear that the site is down. She wonders if the recent company crackdown has anything to do with the chat room being closed, then remembers that Claude is being fired, then recalls—she thinks—that she told the new girl living in her rental apartment that she would try and help her brother somehow. The memories are starting to come back now. That was a hell of a night, Friday. Lucy isn't really sure exactly what she promised to do.

"Fuck," Lucy mumbles under her breath as the night's conversation becomes clearer. Why did she open her mouth and get involved in their mess? But she knows why. She just can't help herself when it comes to stirring the pot. It isn't about hurting other people, or helping other people, and it certainly isn't about her trying to look good or getting ahead at work, it is about her own entertainment.

Lucy reaches across her desk, picks up her phone and dictates a text message to Meghan, a friend who now works in the CEO's office:

Hey babe. Do you think you can get an email through to your new boss for me?

The reply is instant:

Sure Lucy. I'm his spam filter you know. What's up?

I told a friend that I would try to get a message to Angelo Lord. She wants to talk to him about her brother. The guy that is getting sacked for screwing his secretary.

Good luck hon. Mr. Lord won't have time for her.

I think he might. Tell him that it is the girl from the stage, the one who was wearing the dress.

K. will do. Have her send it to his private email: [email protected]

Thanks babe!

Lucy smiles. She likes being messed up in this, after all. This will be fun, she thinks, and scrolls through her contacts to stop at Isabella Measures. She hits the message icon and types:

- You are in! [email protected]. bcc me on all!

Lucy stands, stretches, and walks to the kitchen, intending to make a pot of tea, a Sunday evening ritual of hers that has survived from her time with James. She still thinks of him whenever she has tea, and like tonight, she allows the memories of their years together to come to the surface. Maybe it comes from living alone, but she enjoys his imaginary company and the moments they share. The rest of the time, she tries to keep James Tyrell in the background. She knows he is always there and has come to realize that he will always be there, somewhere.

Since she won't be online chatting up the Ghetto tonight, Lucy contemplates how she will finish her Sunday evening. Comedy, probably. Lucy hasn't been in the mood to read much lately. She has found a few good Romances online recently, but somehow finds it difficult to stay focused on the story. Too many distractions with instant messaging and emails. Yes, a good old fashioned situation comedy would be a perfect way to end the weekend. A Netflix night.

But then, ping.

Email, from [email protected]. The message, to [email protected] was copied to Lucy. She reads:

Dear Mr. Lord,

I am so sorry to bother you Sir, but please hear me. I am new at Alpha, and in the short time that I have worked here and from everything that I have heard, I cannot tell you how impressed I am with your leadership. I believe you to be a fair and just man.

But there has been a terrible deed committed that involves the life and livelihood of an Alpha employee, my brother, Claude Measures. While it is a sensitive matter that puts me at war with my own values, I certainly understand that justice needs to be served. But, regardless, I ask that you spare my brother, and please reconsider the decision to have him terminated. There are aspects to this case of which you may not be aware. I would appreciate the opportunity to share that information with those responsible for deciding his future

Kindest Regards,

Isabella Measures.

Lucy reads over the message again. This chick has got balls after all, she thinks. Plus, she knows how to write. It will be interesting to see how this plays out.

People say that about her, that Lucy Lumalabas has balls. She wonders about her balls, and what they would look like. They wouldn't be hairy and crinkly and droopy would they? She has seen a few balls—and dicks—in her fifteen years in the Bay area, working for Alpha, mostly on guys who, in the end, she couldn't see herself putting up with for the rest of her life. Not the marrying type, she would tell her mother, who, on every visit home would still ask if she had found another man yet. Lucy, she tells her, you are just too loud. Men like soft woman, quiet ones. You scare them away I bet, mother says. Lucy thinks of that slut, Grace Donor. There is a woman who doesn't scare them away. The guys like her, alright. No balls on that one.

It is hard to be taken seriously, even in this day and age, and even in an organization as progressive as Alpha, or, she thinks, was progressive until this jackass Angelo Lord took over. It is not like there is discrimination based on sex or race so much in the tech sector; if you are good, work hard and make money for the company, your achievements are recognized and your success rewarded. But still, in Lucy's opinion, there is an underlying culture here where balls are respected. If a woman has balls, in essence acts like a man, then she is respected. Unless she is too strong, mind you, then she is a dyke; too assertive, a bitch; too social, a lush; too funny—well, one can never be too funny, just the wrong kind of funny. But that is Lucy's strong suit. Guys respect a woman with a sense of humour that is like a man's. Make them laugh, and they don't feel threatened. One-up them with a witty comeback and they love you. Take a maternity leave and you are just not serious about your career.

Lucy wonders about Isabella, and how she will fall into the pack order around here. She seems very naive, and so timid, yet here she is emailing one of the most powerful businessmen in the world. The kid has got balls, but it will be interesting to see if she can use them. She is getting involved with a tough nut.

Ping. New Email. Forwarded from Isabella Measures.

Isabella,

Welcome to Alpha. I understand that you are new, and that you helped us onstage on Friday at the launch, so I will be gentle with you. I also understand your concern, however this is not a matter which you should become involved with. This was my decision and my position remains this: I cannot condemn the act and then let the actor go. - AL

Lucy barely has the chance to finish reading Angelo's message when a new message from Isabella appears:

That is a severe law. It is unfortunate that you will not give any more consideration to this. I guess I have lost my brother then.

That is it? Lucy thinks. Here, you have a rare chance to have the ear of the freakin' CEO and that is all you are going to say? That's no fun. Lucy begins, quickly, to reply to Isabella, checking to make sure she hasn't hit reply all:

Don't roll over so easy! Reply back to him. Beg for his mercy, make him feel important. Kneel down before him, hang on his pant leg, suck up to him. You are too cold. You won't get anywhere like that. Use your charm on him!

Lucy knows that Isabella has read her message, as the next message is directed to the CEO, from Isabella. Good, she is trying again, Lucy thinks.

Mr. Lord,

I think that if you were to pardon him, no one would be sorry that you were merciful. - Isabella

The emails are flying back and forth now. Lucy thinks, she has got him engaged in the discussion, at least. And they are now on a first name basis. This will be a good show after all. This train of emails begins with one from the CEO:

I will not do it. - Angelo

But you could, if you wanted to. - Isabella

Look, I will not do what I cannot do. - Angelo

But you might do it, and you would be doing no wrong. If only you could feel the same regret that I feel about this. - Isabella

He has already been dismissed. It is too late. - Angelo

Lucy types a quick aside to Isabella: You are too cold!

There is a lull in the email conversation, and Lucy hopes that Isabella is carefully composing her next plea. Pull out your best prose here, you little communication intern. Let's see if that English degree of yours is worth the paper it's printed on.

The next message appears from Isabella:

Too late? It doesn't have to be, you only need to call back your word. You have the power. Believe this: there is no position on earth, not a king, judge or CEO who doesn't wish to make decisions that are only half as good as that which mercy does. If you would have slipped like him, he would not be so stern to you. - Isabella

Lucy reads the message and sighs, out loud, "what the hell"? Is she supposed to be quoting something? She wonders about this girl and is not sure what to make of her. On one hand, Isabella comes across as sweet and child-like, innocent like she imagines a little sister might be; on the other hand, there are these glimpses of an assertive and intelligent woman. She is sharp, no doubt, holding her own against such a ruthless opponent. Isabella quickly throws back these philosophical maxims like they are schoolyard rhymes. The problem is, she is saying stupid things.

Then Angelo's reply: Go away. Lucy could see that coming.

Isabella: If I had your power, I would pray to heaven for guidance. And if you were in my position, it wouldn't be this way. And what if I were the judge, and you the accused?

Lucy quickly jumps in with a message to Isabella: Touch him with your words, find the soft spot!

But Angelo replies first: Your brother is forfeit of the rules. You waste your words. But be content girl, it is the law, not I, that condemn your brother. I would do the same if he were my brother, or son.

Isabella: Please sir, spare him. Why should he be punished for an offence that many have committed?

Lucy (to Isabella): Good point!

Angelo: The rules may have been asleep lately, but they are still rules. If I don't enforce them, then I would only be contributing to this kind of behavior.

Isabella: Yet show some pity.

Angelo: I show pity most when I show justice.

Isabella: Oh, so it must be a great burden to be so powerful that you can destroy a man's life. Just because you are strong doesn't mean you need to be a tyrant.

Lucy can't believe this exchange is happening. Here, this girl has got the hot-shot CEO-wannabe backed against a wall. There is no way a man in Angelo's position will let a little girl outsmart and outplay him. She wants to see the outcome. Lucy types to Isabella: That was well said. Give him some more, he is coming, I can tell! You go girl, more of that!

Isabella: We are so blinded by justice. We cannot judge our fellow man by the same standards we use in judging ourselves. Authority is a kind of medicine in and of itself, but it only treats the surface sore on the skin, leaving what is beneath unhealed. Do you believe that you have cured the disease because the lesions have cleared? It's like that with my brother. The same result would be achieved if he confessed his guilt, and you showed mercy in your judgement. Please, Mr. Lord, reconsider.

There is no reply from Angelo. Lucy, caught up in the drama, watches the screen, waiting for the blink of the mail icon, but all is still. She wants to jump in, to tell Angelo that he had better listen to this girl, because she is the one making the most sense. Freaking guys, she thinks, always so stubborn.

Then the blinking letter icon. It is from Isabella, again: Please, Mr. Lord. Listen, how can I bribe you?

Oh my, Lucy thinks, I didn't see this coming.

That worked. New mail from Angelo: Bribe me?

Isabella: I mean, what could I give you that would make you change your mind? Not money, but with my thanks, and whatever gratitude I can offer.

You naive little girl, Lucy thinks. You have tried everything else, but you have no idea, do you, of how he will interpret this? But she doesn't type that. Lucy remains silent.

Sure enough, Angelo takes the bait: Well, come to my office tomorrow. Anytime before noon.

Thank you Mr. Lord. -Isabella.