The Astral Hacker (Cryptopunk Revolution Book 1) by Brian Terenna (motivational books for women TXT) 📕

“You seem nervous,” says Nav.

I squeeze my burn scar. That’s an understatement. “I’m okay.”

“Let me teach you how to breathe.”

“I already picked that up somewhere along the way.”

She chuckles. “Not like that. A better way. Take a slow, deep breath using your diaphragm to pull in air so your stomach extends. Exhale slowly, allowing all muscle tension to fade. Do this several times, focusing on your breath and relaxation without any other thoughts.”

I shrug, then breathe in slowly, resting my hand on my stomach to make sure I’m doing it right. With several steady exhalations, my tension fades, and my anxiety calms. Not bad. “Is this how you’re so confident all the time?”

“I’m not very confident. I mostly fake it with body language.”

I raise an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“You know, put your chin up. Your shoulders back. Open body position. If you fake it long enough, you feel it.”

I slowly nod as I think back to my speeches in Silent City and the poise I showed. I know how to do it; I just don’t feel confident enough to do it.

Nav’s white projected face wrinkles as she says, “I never thought I’d be dressed like government trash.”

I laugh, my nervousness temporarily abating. Most people love the government, so it’s strange to hear.

Nav opens the door, and I walk in behind her.

We enter the expansive lobby that smells of air freshener. Lemongrass mixed with…I don’t know. Snake plants sit on either side of the desk and in each of the ten or so windows. Giant, shiny letters spell the words ‘Cardinal Post’ on the wall across from us. Underneath that, a sign reads, ‘An Evo compliant employer since May 2120.’

Nervous energy courses through me as we approach the front desk. A young man in a suit with an oversized chin greets us. I show him my badge. My hand trembles, but I don’t think he notices.

“They’re ready for you,” he says and points to an elevator. “Second floor. Conference Room B.”

We enter the elevator and press the button.

“Make sure to speak with more authority,” says Nav. “Like you would in-game.”

I look down, embarrassed. “I’ll try, but you should talk mostly.”

We exit the elevator and find the conference room.

A white-haired woman sits at a desk outside of the room, tapping her foot. She perks up at seeing us. “Agents McMillan and Blane?”

We nod.

“Here it is,” she says and opens the door.

Four men and two women, all dressed in suits, sit around a polished wooden table. All of them are professional and old. And all of them have their eyes on me.

My stomach clenches. I’m not ready for this. The research I did on the Federal Trade Commission seems extremely inadequate now.

One of the men, who has a snub-nose, motions for us to sit. “Call to order the Federal Trade Commission’s meeting to review Candor News’ acquisition of the Cardinal Post.”

The board members shuffle in their seats and adjust their papers.

“I’m the chairman, Mr. Williams,” says the snub-nosed man. “I was under the impression that the acquisition was going to be approved.”

“We have a few follow up questions to finish our pre-acquisition investigation,” says Nav. “As you know, if we require extra information, you must comply.”

Mr. Williams looks down. “Of course. You have the floor.”

I clear my throat, and everyone looks toward me. Oh hell. Nav was supposed to talk. What am I doing? “Ladies and Gentlemen.” Okay, good start. “The Cardinal Post has recorded a net loss for the last three years. Why is Candor News interested in acquiring the Post?”

“Expanded audience,” says Mr. Williams. “Although we’ve recorded losses, our viewership has increased for the last five years.”

Everyone looks at me again.

I wish Nav would take over, but I guess it’s all me. “What benefits would you receive as board members for approving the acquisition? Most of you will not make it on Candor News’ board.”

“We’ll all receive extensive compensation and stock options,” says Mr. Williams.

Sweat beads on my chest. Luckily, I have a suit to hide behind. “How would you describe former board member Anna McCloud before her schizophrenic break?”

The others look at Mr. Williams, then at each other.

“She was always very calm,” says a plump woman with shrewd looking eyes. “I disagreed with her views, but I respected her.”

“She was knowledgeable and an exceptional speaker,” says a man with almost no chin.

“Stubborn, like with the last vote,” says a balding redhead.

Mr. Williams looks at him sharply, and the balding man lowers his head.

“What does he mean?” I ask.

“It’s nothing,” says Mr. Williams.

Nothing? “Was there a vote to approve the acquisition before the one that passed? Does it require a unanimous vote?”

Mr. Williams looks around uncomfortably, then says, “It does. Anna didn’t think the buyout was in the post’s best interests, but that’s not important now. We just wish her the best, which is why we provided her with a generous severance package and pension. It will be enough for her to live comfortably and pay any medical expenses.”

Now, that’s something. She blocks the vote, then has a convenient schizophrenic break? If it’s really the Evo, could that mean someone did this to her? If that’s the case, what about Sandra and Barbra? My mind is racing at the implications. I glance at the door, wanting to escape.

The scent of Nav’s jasmine perfume drifts by me.

My whirling thoughts slow. “There’s a second employee who had a schizophrenic break, Sandra Clark, an investigative reporter.”

The board members look at each other uneasily.

They know something. “Can you look up what story she was working on when she had her issue?”

“How is this related to the hearing?” asks Mr. Williams.

My fleeting composure flies out the window. I don’t