Chapter 14: Liberty Avenue

On Monday morning the billboard on Liberty Avenue was sixty feet wide.

Deb and I stood on the sidewalk across the street at 7:40, holding two coffees, with our necks bent back.

Winston's face was on the left, in a navy suit, looking at something to the right of the camera.

Simone's face was on the right, in her white jacket, looking at something to the left.

Between them, in gold numerals the height of a bus, it said 99%.

Under that it said, THE ALGORITHM KNEW.

"It didn't," Deb said.

"No."

"You want me to throw my coffee at it?"

"It's sixty feet up."

"I played softball."

"Deb."

"I'm only offering."

I looked at his face, so calm and so far away.

I had seen it an hour ago, asleep on my pillow, with his mouth a little open.

A man in a reflective vest was bolting a light fixture over the gold 9s.

"Do you think she knew they'd put this up?" Deb said.

"Simone? She knew a billboard was coming. She didn't know it would say this."

"And Winston?"

"He's signed off on the photo, not the line."

Deb looked at me sideways.

"How do you know?"

"Because he asked me Saturday what the line was going to say.

Nobody had told him."

My phone buzzed.

Phyllis Greer. Conference room 3105. Now, please. Bring nothing.

"Bring nothing," Deb read, over my arm. "That's terrifying."

"That's Phyllis."

"I'll be at my desk, eating my feelings."

Conference room 3105 had a table of pale wood, a screen on the wall and five people.

The chair sat at the head with his hands folded.

The two PR twins sat on one side, with laptops open.

Phyllis stood by the window with her back to the light, in her gray blazer, and her face gave me nothing.

Winston was not there.

"Ms. Orlowski," said the chair. "Thank you for joining us."

"Am I on the schedule?"

"You're on the agenda."

One of the PR twins slid a page across the table.

It was a press statement on Lodestar letterhead, three paragraphs long.

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