The Startup

1.01

In a city that forgot the stars,

memory was marked non-billable.

You could apply for access

if you signed the clause:

> “I consent to lightlessness.”

1.02

Etta, aged ten and inconvenient,

still asked questions.

Which in this economy

was a cultural breach.

1.04

Winston; feral, unkempt, undiluted;

had already clawed through

three NDAs and one marketing intern.

He slept on banned books

and pissed on the Cap Table.

1.08

Kafka sat in Product.

"Transformation Lead,"

though mostly he turned

schoolmates into scorpions,

spiders, and compliance managers.

1.16

The Red Queen ran HR.

Her policies were sharp.

Her motto—

> “Off with her head,”

(but only post-probation).

1.32

Books were deprecated.

The AI offered curated summaries:

> “Stars were inefficient.

They were sunset in Q3.”

1.64

Etta didn’t understand

the Option Pool mechanics.

But she knew

that the sky

was not meant

to be this flat.

3.28

She climbed the fire escape

with a library card and a torch

half full of death.

Winston followed,

tail like a fuse,

purring something that smelled

like revolution.

6.56

Above them: drones.

Below them: silence.

Beside them: Kafka,

taking notes for

a retrospective he’d never share.

13.12

The Red Queen

called an emergency All Hands.

“Someone’s reintroducing wonder,”

she growled,

“and that’s not in the KPI deck.”

26.24

Winston launched.

Not at her;

at the server rack

where all the forbidden memories

were encrypted at rest.

Claws met carbon.

A circuit wept.

52.48

Somewhere below,

a book

opened itself.

And from its spine

rose a gasp

of starlight.

104.96

The stars came back;

not all at once,

but vested

over four years,

with a one-year cliff.

Postscript

Kafka transferred to another startup.

The Red Queen was replaced

by a less volatile algorithm.

Winston?

Chief Troublemaker Officer,

rumoured to be building

a new universe

in stealth.

And Etta?

She owns 2.3% of the sky,

fully diluted.

No liquidation preference.

No regrets.

F.S.F.