Binary Systems [Complete, Slice-of-Life Sci-Fi Romance]

––––––
Claire: I can't think like a businesswoman with you, Harry. Clarity is the cost of doing business—where things can't be personal.
Harry: Everything you do with a person is already personal. I don't have an issue with your clarity—as long as it comes with respect and grace.
––––––

Monday, November 11th, 2091, about 2:00 pm MST, Montana City

The conference room at Binary Systems Corp. gleamed with sleek professionalism. Gordon sat at the far end of the table, having already kicked off his shoes surreptitiously beneath the table, while Karen, dressed unusually sharply in a blazer and suit pants, Harry in his perpetually slightly-rumpled high-end suit, sleeves rolled up and looking 'lived in', as though they'd caught him doing housework and this was just what he looked like, and Claire, every inch the CEO's daughter, occupied seats nearby. On a standing monitor, Marie's avatar flickered slightly, the lag from Mars adding a faint delay to her reactions. Even Marie was dressed up, wearing some sort of coverall with high contrast paneling and a turtleneck collar. Across from them, the lawyer—sharp-suited and carrying an air of brisk efficiency—flipped open a binder, revealing pages of densely packed text.

"Let's begin," he said, his voice clipped. "We've drafted an agreement that ensures substantial financial compensation for your team while maintaining the integrity of both Binary Systems Corp. and the streaming company's brand."

He looked at Gordon. "Your father insisted on my handling this personally to ensure no embarrassments or oversights."

Gordon had been aware—and it wasn't surprising in any case. "Of course, he did."
The lawyer ignored the comment and turned to the first tab. "The payout structure is as follows: Each participant will receive between $75,000 and $200,000 for the six-month term, depending on performance metrics."

The room fell silent. Karen sat up straighter, her brow furrowing. "Wait, what?"

Harry leaned forward, incredulous. "You're serious? That's—huge."

"It reflects the high-profile nature of your group's content," the lawyer said smoothly. "You've generated significant interest, particularly after the debut of Gallant. The streaming company anticipates substantial viewership spikes."

Gordon frowned. "What's the catch?"

The lawyer flipped to the next tab. "The contract includes several content and behavior stipulations. First, no nudity, including in-game avatars. 'AC mode' must remain toggled off at all times for the camera-person. Violations will be automatically censored in real time by AI moderation."

Karen rolled her eyes. "Not exactly a dealbreaker."

"Second, limited use of expletives. Strong profanity will be automatically censored in real time by AI moderation."

Harry grinned. "You mean I can curse like a sailor, and it just gets bleeped out?"

"Correct," the lawyer replied, his tone neutral. "It maintains a family-friendly image while allowing for expressive gameplay. Third, all in-game communications will be recorded for compliance auditing. Any personal conversations during streams will be censored before public release."

Claire's expression sharpened. "Define personal conversations?"

The lawyer adjusted his glasses. "While logged into the game the team channel will be monitored; similarly, within the streaming studio the audio will be monitored. These measures are standard for protecting the streaming company's brand."

"Standard," Claire agreed. "Personal devices remain unmonitored, correct?"

The lawyer hesitated, then flipped to another tab. "Ah—yes."

She relaxed in her seat. After looking at her for more protests, he continued: "Advance payments are contingent upon Mr. Gordon's continued employment at Binary Systems Corp. Should his employment be terminated or if he resigns, further payments will be paused, and lump-sum advances may be subject to repayment."

Gordon leaned forward, his voice cold. "So my dad put a leash on me."

"I should clarify: Binary Systems is giving you advances on the lump sum you are due anyway at contract completion. If Gordon were to quit, Binary Systems Corporation will stop giving advances and will require him to pay back any advances given to him up to that point. He would then receive the difference upon contract completion—he would not be losing money, he would be losing the access to the earlier payments. The rest of you do not have such a clause." the lawyer said, unruffled. "Your father's little incentive."

Harry snorted. "Same difference."

The lawyer ignored him and moved on. "Live streams must occur exclusively on the streaming company's platform, and the company retains full ownership of all content, including gameplay footage and commentary. Recorded streams will be subject to pre-publication review to ensure compliance with these guidelines."

Karen tapped the table with her knuckles, her eyes narrowing. "By whom?"

"Partners," the lawyer said, vaguely. "You also receive a lump-sum advance at the start of the contract and substantial bonuses for hitting milestones, such as completing high-profile dungeons or generating viral content. Additionally, the streaming company will handle merchandise sales, with 15% of profits going to your team."

Harry rubbed his chin. "That's… actually not bad."

"It's generous," Claire admitted. "Thank you, Jerome. It means a lot."

"My pleasure. Any questions?"

Marie's avatar flickered on the screen, her voice slightly delayed as she adjusted a crinkling stack of foil printouts in her hands. "I'm not happy with how much ambiguity there is in this contract," she said, the crinkling briefly drowning out her voice. "This 'remain active' clause, for instance—it could mean I'm grinding potions for several streams in a row while Gallant just stands there keeping me company."

The lawyer raised an eyebrow but didn't interrupt. Marie's avatar continued, her tone measured but firm. "If that happens, and the stream's performance tanks because I'm boring? That's on me. I'm not giving my fair share of effort to the arrangement, and that would be stiffing the streaming company. I don't want that."

Karen smirked. "Grinding potions sounds riveting." Her eyebrows danced indecorously.

Marie ignored her. "I want a marketing professional assigned to us. Someone to send occasional suggestions for popular streaming topics or trends we could incorporate. If other people's money is riding on me, I want feedback from them. Constructive feedback."

Gordon frowned, his fingers drumming lightly on the table. He didn't interrupt, but his expression grew thoughtful.

The lawyer's pen hovered over his notes as he glanced toward the monitor. "The streaming company already has analytics tools and performance tracking in place to monitor viewership engagement."

"That's nice," Marie said, her voice sharp enough to cut through the lag. "But analytics don't tell me what's trending, or what's likely to work well for a Martian audience versus Earth's. A marketing professional would."

Harry grinned. "Marie, are you saying you want a manager?"

"I want support," she corrected. "Someone who knows what the streaming company wants and can communicate it clearly so we can deliver."

"We need to focus on what's feasible for now," interrupted Clair. "Regular reports on network trends and audience preferences—that's the ask." She turned to the lawyer. "They can generate those with their existing systems. No new hires needed."

The lawyer made a note. "That's more realistic."

Claire looked at Marie's flickering projection for a silent moment. "If they won't go for it right away, tell them we'll prove the value of their market researcher's input within a trial period. A month. I've got some contacts who might be willing to sign advertising partner agreements, which will offset the cost."

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Well, thought Gordon. That was the last pair I'd have expected to collaborate on something.

Marie frowned, but before she could speak, Gordon leaned forward. "Add this: enable AI deletion of prohibited content. Not just flagging it for moderation—deletion."

The lawyer looked up. "That's… a significant escalation. Flagging content is standard policy. Deletion could open the company up to liability if it's handled improperly."

"Only for prohibited categories explicitly defined in the contract," Gordon replied smoothly. "We stream with studio cameras, and wardrobe malfunctions are a fact of life. If something slips through and circulates because moderation lagged, it's our reputations on the line. I'm not risking my personal image that way."

The lawyer hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Anything else?"

Claire didn't miss a beat. Gordon leaned back in his chair, watching her closely. She always had that hyper-focused look when she saw an opening. "Yes. In-person interviews—they're out. If anything needs to happen, it can happen in-game or remotely. We're too dispersed to make in-person appearances viable."

Gordon saw the slight twitch of Jerome's mouth—a tell, subtle but unmistakable. He didn't like it. "Interviews are standard—"

"Then it's time to revise the standard," Claire said, cutting him off smoothly. Her tone stayed light, almost conversational, but Gordon could hear the steel beneath it. She adjusted her posture, the hem of her slate-gray pencil skirt brushing the edge of the chair as she leaned slightly forward. "Marie's on Mars. Gordon and I have demanding schedules." She spared him a glance, quick and almost dismissive, before moving on. "And frankly, our audience prefers immersive, in-game content. Face-to-face interviews won't resonate. Virtual is the way forward."

Gordon tensed, feeling his fingers tighten against the chair's armrest. If this pitch fell apart, Harry was the one who'd lose the most. He'd worked through every damn angle of this deal, and the numbers were solid. The funding would mean Harry could buy a house—outright—and finally build the kind of streaming setup that would let him focus on content creation for years.

Claire didn't hesitate, flashing a quick, practiced smile that didn't quite reach her icy blue eyes. Gordon knew that smile too well—it was one of her tools, another piece of the persona she wore like her high-fashion wardrobe. It worked often enough, but he wondered if Jerome was the kind of man who could see through it.
"Jerome," she said, her tone softening just enough to feel sincere, "I don't have to ask him about this one. Trust me." Her voice dropped a fraction further. "I'll take the blowback if he disagrees."

The silence stretched, long enough for Gordon to feel the sweat prickling under his collar. Claire didn't flinch, but that wasn't a surprise. She wouldn't, not even if the whole pitch went down in flames. It wasn't her style. But it was enough to make Gordon sweat. He could feel everything hanging in the balance—the deal, the money, Harry's future.

Finally, Jerome nodded. "Very well. I'll propose virtual interviews exclusively."

Gordon exhaled quietly. Jerome tapped his papers into a neat stack and slid them into his briefcase. "I'll submit these to the streaming providers. If further negotiation is required—or someone accepts the terms as is—you'll have copies of the final document." He stood, his gaze pausing briefly on Claire's sleek high ponytail before moving on to Gordon. "Good day."

Jerome walked out, leaving the room quiet but charged.

–––❖–––

And then they were there in the silence of the conference room, with only the hissing of the holographic projector to break the stillness.

Karen spoke first. "It's nice to meet you, Marie," she said. "I've heard so much about you."

Harry's eyes made little crescents as he smiled in complete satisfaction after meeting Gordon's eyes—the girls are talking, that look meant. It didn't matter that the need for that particular message had never come up before—they both knew, at a glance, what they were trying to say. She would rib them about it later.

Gordon's expression probably meant something like "This could go really well, or get really awkward."

Marie smiled. It was a genuinely delighted expression, framed by her dark ringlets and thrown into contrast by her dim surroundings and the dark panels on her coveralls. Whiter-than-white teeth—Gordon had shown her a picture of Marie before, but she'd never noticed the woman's smile. It could be the contrast with her skin in this light level, though. She'd done up her hair with a gossamer scarf in place of a headband—it looked very cultural and human, at war with the practicality of her outfit and the metal paneled wall she was using as a backdrop.

There was a moment of mutual assessment - both women's expressions caught between polite smiles and wariness.

Marie's eyebrow game was intense. Good thing, too, because every minute thought that went through her head was transmitted directly to them—up, down, this way, that. Karen pictured Claire struggling to keep a poker face with Marie's eyebrows for a moment before realizing that even with that disadvantage, she still couldn't read the woman.

"So," Marie said finally. "We finally meet."She looked… pleasant. A disarming smile. One eyebrow quirked, ironic.

"About time, right?" Karen lounged back in the well-stuffed business chair, projecting ease she didn't quite feel. "I was starting to think Gordon was keeping us apart on purpose."

"I can't imagine why," Marie's dry tone carried a hint of humor. "Still, I would think we've probably each picked up a reasonably accurate picture of each other from the streams."

"Oh, you've been watching me?" Karen grinned, batting her eyelashes exaggeratedly. "I'd have thought you'd be focused on our handsome gunslinger—?"

"—very often, to do one is to do the other," Marie commented wryly. "Not that you're anything less than a compelling entertainer. I would go so far as to call you sensu—."

"I'm a terrible flirt," Karen admitted. "For what it's worth—he's got eyes only for you."

Marie inclined her head slightly, acknowledging the sentiment. "I appreciate that."

"He's got good taste, too."

Marie hesitated, visibly unsure how to respond, eyebrows incrementally climbing.

"Hey, no hitting on Marie," Claire cut in from her seat, her voice laced with dry amusement. Her eyes were in shadow, but her smug twenty-thousand dollar smile said it all.

Karen raised her hands innocently. "Window shopping isn't a crime. Don't worry—I'm still coming home to you."

Claire rolled her eyes, her smile dimming but not vanishing.

"Not that I'd kick you out of bed," Karen reassured Marie. That pretty face was starting to look frazzled.
Marie looked uncertainly at Gordon, who looked uncertainly back. Karen suppressed a giggle.

"She's kidding," Gordon promised. He looked more nervous than Marie did.

"TELL YOU WHAT," said Harry, climbing to his feet with groans fit for an old man, not the slightly late-twenties man he was in reality, "I think we should give the ladies some privacy."

Gordon looked from Karen to Marie doubtfully. "Uh—sure. I'll call you?"
Marie smiled in response. The board room doors closed behind the two retreating men, Harry limping slightly.
"I thought Harry'd never get the hint," complained Claire. "I practically had to give him a Charlie horse before he noticed I was kicking him."
Marie nodded, then visibly composed herself—her renewed mein was serious, composed, as befitted someone who, by accident of birth, had been in front of the media and their cameras repeatedly, the 'first human born on Mars'—with all the medical checkups and associated embarrassment that came with the title. Her bearing reminded Karen of Claire, when she was wearing her 'corporate heiress' getup like armor.
"Thanks for that," Marie said, opening the dialog once again, "Can I be serious with you ladies for a moment?"
"Please," suggested Claire. Karen nodded, this time without a quip. The mood had shifted, and she let it. For now.
Marie visibly hesitated, as if going over what she was going to say in her mind before saying it out loud. Her eyebrows furrowed prettily, then smoothed, a realtime exposition of her inner thoughts. The process only took a fleeting instant.
"I plan to be a part of his life going forward," said Marie carefully. "So do each of you. So... it would be nice to be friendly with each other. Claire—you're his family. Karen—possibly his oldest friend."
Karen noticed she didn't specify 'step-sibling'—it was respectful. She appreciated that.
"Thanks," said Claire. "I wish more people would approach things with that sort of mindset."
"So … we all care about him. You've known him for longer—"
"—years," Claire provided, "And years."
"—yes."
There was a little awkward pause.
"Sorry about earlier," Karen offered. The silence had gone too serious for her taste. "I was hoping to offset some of the tension, but—"
"—she's not actually a pervert, she just plays one on TV," explained Claire, somewhat kindly. "But—I hear you—friendly is always better," Claire rejoined, "It's just that you're part of the reason he's planning to go to Mars. It's not safe. He's his own man, it's not your fault, etc. etc., but also, you can see where I wouldn't be able to be on-board with this."
Marie nodded. "You care about him. That counts for something."
"Same to you," Karen nodded. "And, again—you are really pretty. But also—"
"Thank you?" Marie said, her brow lifting. "Still not sure if I should feel amused or violated."
Her cheeks had gone a bit pink.
"Why not both? You're a big girl—you've got the emotional bandwidth," snarked Claire. "Karen gets us all like that, sometimes."
Marie nodded. "That puts some things into perspective. What is the deal with the bedroom talk?"
"She crashes in my room after her night-shift while I'm at work, most streaming days. It's nothing."
"Mostly we ham it up for Gordon's reactions—compete to see how red we can get Gordon's face," Karen admitted. "You should have seen his face while I was talking to you earlier. Puce."
Marie's composure cracked, a sharp laugh escaping her unexpectedly. "I saw," she admitted, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Oh gosh, that almost makes it worth doing again."
"Almost," Claire echoed, staring at Karen pointedly.
Karen rolled her eyes. Yeah, yeah.
"You're not what I expected," Karen added.
The eyebrows rose again. "What did you think I'd be?"
"Prissy, maybe," admitted Karen. "Not—"
Marie smiled. It was genuine this time, Karen was pretty sure. She could count the woman's back teeth. They were also perfect. Not fair. "—a real person? I've got the whole ball of wax, inner life, friends, family drama, favorite foods, everything."
"Fair point," Karen acknowledged. "We could talk about it sometime."
Claire nodded. "Keep in touch, Marie?"
Marie reached for the off switch. "See you on the stream."
–––❖–––
The room was silent for a moment in the aftermath of Marie's transmission, the stuttering fizz sound from the holo projector notable in its absence.
"She's beautiful," Karen complained. "And I don't even get to hate her."

Claire stood and patted her friend on the back. "I still don't see it working out, long term. Mars is just too far, and Father … well." She shrugged. "We'll take each day as it comes."

Karen smiled, though it only covered half her face and leaned her office chair back into her friend's torso. "You're nice to me."