Page 60 of Trip Me Up

23

SAM

Sittingin Heidi’s guest chair, I stared down at the text.

Martell: Congratulations, Samantha! This is the validation we’ve been seeking for CASE. Soon, everyone will see what it can do.

Dr. Martell must’ve been watching for the Tower Prize announcement. I hadn’t even known the prize existed until five minutes ago. According to Niall, it was a big deal in the science fiction and fantasy community.

And ifMagicianwon, and then Martell and Heidi announced that an A.I. had written it, how would the community feel? All those people I’d met who’d read and loved the book. Writers like the ones on the panel at the convention. And Niall.

Niall. I twisted my trembling fingers in my lap.

The man hated technology. Who wouldn’t with a father like that asshat, Paul Swift? He’d hate the idea that I’d “written”Magicianby coding it on a computer and then making a mistake with the inputs. Jackson was right. It’d threaten his livelihood. Plus, it’d offend his artistic sensibilities to think a computer could create literature.

Clearly, he’d been hoping to be nominated. And to have that nomination spoiled by this, by CASE? He’d never forgive me. I couldn’t live with that. With those kind, green eyes crystallizing, cold and hard. With the special smile he’d given me earlier when they’d announced the prize dropping into a rictus of shock and disappointment. I had to tell him.

Bilbo Baggins whined and licked my cheek.

“Don’t worry, Bilbo Baggins,” I whispered. “I’ll fix it.”

Behind me, the door opened. Perfect. I’d tell him there in the quiet office where no one would disturb us, and he could yell as loud as he wanted. I turned. “Hey, Niall—”

“Samantha.” Heidi’s mouth was a red slash. “What thrilling news. You must be very excited.”

It wasn’t excitement that swam with a pair of lead fins in my stomach. “Um. Not really? This is all kind of a lot.” I stroked Bilbo Baggins’ silky fur.

Heidi strode around me to sit behind her desk. I had to squint to see her features against the grayish winter glare from the window. “Qiana says you’ve done well on tour. The sales figures are stellar. And with the prize nomination, we expect them to increase.”

“Oh. I guess that’s good?”

“It’s excellent. We’ve been very pleased withMagician in the Machine.And with you, Samantha.” She leaned her elbows on the desk and steepled her fingers.

“Thank you.” I guessed if I couldn’t pretend to be a socialite, I had a future career in pretending to be an author. Mother would be so pleased. “But, if the nomination increases the sales, isn’t that all we need to prove CASE’s validity? We don’t need the contest. Could you pullMagicianout, quietly? I promise I wouldn’t say a word.”

She leaned back in her chair. “Samantha”—the only sign of her displeasure was a tightening around her mouth—“why would we want to withdraw from the contest?”

“Because the book is fake. Because it’s a lie. Because you have a real author nominated.” I gestured vaguely at her one bookshelf where the books were arranged by color. Maybe she had a copy of Niall’s book in the greens? Or his second book in the reds? “Don’t you want Niall to win?”

She waved away my words. “Niall can win next year with his next book. This isyourtime, Samantha. CASE’s time. Time to prove that what you’ve done is special. Thatyou’respecial. There’s no downside to this. Even ifMagicianloses, it’s still been nominated as one of the best half-dozen books of the year. We’ve proven that it’s just as good as a manually written and edited book. Better than most.”

“And—and if it wins?” I clutched Bilbo Baggins so hard he wheezed.

“IfMagicianwins, we’ve shown the world that CASE has written the superior book. And Happy Troll has the inside track on publishing more A.I.-produced books.”

“But—but what about Niall and your other authors? What about your assistant editors? What about Qiana?” A starburst of pain stabbed behind my eye.

She flattened both hands on her desk. “I can repurpose the assistants to read CASE’s output and find the best stories. I don’t expect it to produce something as noteworthy asMagicianevery time. Well, not yet. And there will still be room for Niall and some of the other authors. Though I have to say I’m looking forward to dealing with fewer divas going forward. And their agents.

“Now, with this much less expensive and more efficient way of procuring content, we can finally push past the thin margins we’ve always had.” She shoved against the glass surface of the desk and stood, straight and cold, in front of the gray, snowy streetscape beyond the windows. “Traditional publishing is going the way of the dinosaurs. Happy Troll is about to rise from the ashes like a phoenix.”

“Wait. You’re planning to use CASE to cut back on writers and editors?” All those people drinking champagne out there. How many would still be there this time next year if we could get another dozen books out of CASE? Two dozen?

Happy Troll wouldn’t need my face when CASE wasn’t a secret anymore. No book tour meant no Qiana.

And more books by CASE meant less room for books from Niall. Although I hadn’t gotten far intoSecrets of the Wood Elves—his writing was beautiful, but it took me so long to decipher—I’d gotten far enough to know it was a story worth telling, worth reading.

And the fact that he’d get fewer opportunities to write more and less money for each book? That was all my fault.

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