Call Me Daddy

5

I had just finished giving the opening speech for the Apollo Exhibition. This year’s theme was “Beyond the Algorithm”— exploring how technology reshapes human connection. The applause still echoed as I stepped off the stage. I waved away the approaching photographers. I’d had enough for one night.

I stopped a waiter carrying a tray of drinks and got one glass. He couldn’t have been older than his early twenties but his eyes held a familiar hunger, the kind that comes from doing whatever it takes to survive. It reminded me of my younger self, before the money, before the power, before Stone Corporation.

“Good evening, Mr Stone.”

I looked up to see a man I presumed wanted to sell me the future. He seemed to be in his late thirties. His hair stood in uneven strands and his glasses did little to conceal his sunken eyes.

I frowned. “You are?”

He adjusted his glasses. “My name is James. James Fisher.”

He stopped to let me speak, but continued when I didn’t.

“I have an idea that might interest you.

“We’ll see.”

“Mood AI!” he exclaimed, his gestures rehearsed. “What I’m offering isn’t just another Machine Learning Model, Mr Stone,” he started again. “It’s a Behavioural Predictive Framework. It’s an AI that not only learns what people do, but why they do it. It can be implemented across industries, retail, healthcare, even automotive. Imagine your company’s vehicles adjusting to your employees mood. The car doesn’t just detect fatigue, it—“

“So you want me to invest millions on a hunch that people are predictable,” I cut in, swirling my drink in one hand.

“It’s not a hunch, Mr Stone,” he replied, sharply. “Our system reads micro-patterns from facial cues, speech tones, decision speed, even biometric feedback and continuously learns how those correlate with future behavior.”

I sipped my drink, amused. “Fisher, was it?”

“Yes,” he replied, unsure where I was going.

“Years ago I invested in a company that thought they’d crack emotional forecasting, something about predicting investors' responses by analysis. They were indeed right but two weeks later, I pulled out, just because, costing them five million dollars. Now, tell me, was the AI wrong or right?”

I didn’t expect a response and I got none.

“Have a good day, Mr Fisher,” I said, excusing myself.

I strolled to a small company of associates at the edge of the room, sharing a lighthearted conversation. While we spoke, a young woman in a white dress, not older than her early twenties, lingered around.

I caught flashes of her looking at me as she sipped her drink or pretended to observe the decor and the room with it. I ignored her, not meeting her eyes at all.

Determined to announce her presence, she laughed at a joke I made, capturing the attention of some of my company. Attraction flashed briefly across their eyes.

When I didn’t see her anymore, I sighed in relief. Until someone bumped into me, a purse falling between my legs. It was her again.

I bent, picked it up and handed it back without as much as a reaction. “ You dropped this,” I said, plainly.

She stood before me in a white satin dress, barely reaching my chest. It was sleeveless with a base only around her chest and her waist snatched.

Frozen, she stuttered an apology and received it.

Before I could say anything else, the LEDs blared to life with Marcus all over the place. He was promoting his latest innovation— an electric engine.

Marcus and I had been friends since our college days. After graduation, he went on to work a regular job while I tried to create something for myself.

He made a decent amount, so he got married and even had a daughter but he was never satisfied with his job. Soon after, he created Monroe Motor Corporation and went on to see exponential success. By this time, my company Stone Corp, was already a million dollar company.

Marcus' rise was quick, nothing like I’d ever seen. Perhaps, it was for the same reason, he changed entirely. He went on to have affairs, destroying his marriage. It was only a matter of time till he started having kids too. His s****l scandals flooded the blogs, but he just couldn’t be stopped. And neither could Monroe Motor Corp.

At the end of his presentation, the room gave an applause and the LEDs powered down.

I said my goodbyes and left through the corridor and past security. Outside, Vincent already waited for me in the car.

He stepped out of the car, moving to open the door for me but I got there first. He still didn’t feel right watching me open doors by myself.

“Get us out of here, Vincent,” I said inside.

He started the engine and rolled up the tinted windows, trapping in the cold air. Almost immediately, a downpour started.

We had barely covered any distance when I caught a figure under the rain. Realising it was the girl from before, I ordered Vincent to stop the car.

“Get in,” I said, once we pulled over.

She hesitated, concerned about her soaked clothes and I assured her it meant nothing.

When she got inside, I caught sight of her shivering, though she tried to hide it

“Turn on the heater,” I said to Vincent.

Somewhere in the middle of our conversation, she slid on my lap, her hand running down my chest, the outline of her breasts visible through the wet fabric. Blood rushed to my crotch, my body betraying me before I could react. When she felt it, she took it for victory and leaned in.

“Stop,” I said, pulling back. “You’re drunk.”

“Tipsy,” she giggled and drew near again.

I pulled back again. “Same thing. I’m forty-eight,” he said, flatly. “I’m pretty sure that’s twice your age. We’re not going to indulge in pleasure tonight and regret tomorrow.”

I couldn’t bring myself to accept her advances. Not while she was drunk. Not while I had a daughter around her age.

She pressed her hand against my crotch. “If you’re so disciplined, why does your body say otherwise?”

I paused, glancing down, myself. It had been a while since anyone managed to stir that kind of reaction in me. Not since my divorce. didn't get excited much, especially since my divorce. But something about her boldness, the way she claimed what she wanted stood out to me.

“I’m disciplined because I can do otherwise, even when my body says so.”

She was quiet now, as if accepting defeat. “Stop the car,” she said.

“It’s raining. You’ll-”

“Stop the car!” She yelled.

Vincent slowed down and looked at me through the rear mirror. I nodded and the car came to a halt.

“Follow her,” I said, once she was out.

Vincent drove slowly, tailing her to a cheap motel. I waited, watching as she disappeared behind the doors.

I breathed slowly. “Let’s go home.”