The breach wasn’t a break-in or a missing hard drive or a fire in the data center or whatever other capitalist emergencies usually give Camille that strange glitter in her eye… no, this one was worse. It was a notification.
One loud, collective ping.
The entire company, from HR to Holographics, from the espresso-drunk developers to the i********: interns, got a push alert from the retreat’s official app... branded, verified, blessed by corporate communications... that read:
“Jack Glasgow is resigning to start a new company with Scarlett Farnsworth. Details to come. #NewEra #FoundersLove”
Silence followed.
Then gasps.
Then screams.
Then four people fainted.
One man dropped his smoothie and whispered, “We’re all gonna die.”
Jack was standing by the croissants when it hit. He looked
