Page 95 of Crocodile Tears

OCTOBER 2087

Alex

Alex sat outside his father’s office, his portfolio clutched under one arm, his legs bouncing anxiously.

He felt like an idiot for being so nervous about a meeting with his father of all people, but this was important, and he didn’t want to screw it up.

It was late, and although he’d already worked a full day in the factory, he’d showered and changed into his smartest suit.

Spencer, faithful guardian of his father’s inner sanctum, glanced at him curiously, but Alex ignored him the way he’d been ignoring him ever since that evening, a little over a year ago.

He wasn’t proud of himself for what had happened that night, but he’d done his best to turn his life around since then. He’d been a virtual monk, working hard at Lytton AV by day and on his designs by night.

The intercom on Spencer’s desk buzzed, and he nodded at Alex. “Your father is free now, sir; you can go in.”

Alex stood up and took a deep breath before venturing into the lion’s den.

His father glanced up irritably. “Alex – what’s all this about? You don’t have to book a meeting in the diary to see me, you know. Youcould come over to dinner once in a while. The door’s always open, and Charles loves seeing you.”

“I do see Charles. We go out once a month,” Alex replied, feeling a little stung.

“Oh.” His father looked stung in return. “Well, I’d like to see you, too, you know. Not here, I mean – socially… for a nice family meal.”

Alex couldn’t remember the last time a family meal had been “nice”, but he managed a tight smile.

“I’ll come around for dinner, then – soon, I promise. But I asked for a meeting with you because I want to talk about business.”

His father’s expression immediately turned into that particular combination of weary and brusque he’d become familiar with every time he tried to talk to him about the future of Lytton AV.

“I know you want me to work in all the different departments first, but I want to be more involved in the design side.”

The mind-numbingly boring weeks that he’d recently spent in the accounts department, where he’d endured the added indignity of being placed under Neil’s tutelage, sprang to mind.

Noah sighed. “Look, Alex – I want you to take over one day, but you still have a lot to learn.”

“I know, but I want to show you something.” He placed his portfolio on his father’s desk and unzipped it. “It’s something I’ve been working on. Just look at it – please?”

He pulled out several drawings and laid them on the desk’s surface. “I have them in different tech formats, but I know you prefer things old school.”

Noah picked one up. “What are these?”

“My designs for a prototype of the next-generation Lytton duck.” He waved his hands around excitedly.

“The basic design of our ducks has barely changed since Will Tyler designed it in the aftermath of the Rising, and I understand why. It’s tried and tested and, until recently, very few people had the money to aspire to buy something more impressive. The Lytton Classic is practical and efficient, but it’s time we moved on. So, I’ve come up with a duck that doesn’t go through the water – it skims the surface, and is much faster and sleeker.”

“A flying duck?” His father’s voice dripped with scepticism.

Alex ploughed on, regardless. “It doesn’t fly, exactly – it’s more like skimming. My design might take some tweaking, but I believe it can work. It’s time for Lytton AV to innovate, Dad – to be the first again, the way we were in Grandfather’s day. Ifwedon’t do it, someone else will. People have more money these days, and they want something less utilitarian. My ducks are beautiful objects in their own right, and they’re not just for the rich. They’re for parents doing the school run, and for businesspeople to zip around between these new floating cities they’re building. We could use the Lytton Classic engine, as that’s been shown to be reliable; with some small modifications, I think it would work with these designs.”

His father glanced at the drawings and then took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Alex, you came in here to talk about business, but business is the last thing you understand. You are artistic, I appreciate that, and you’re a promising designer.” He waved his hand at the drawings. “But running Lytton AV isn’t just about drawing a pretty new duck. It’s about marketing, accounts, sales, running Lytton Village, managing the indentured servants, and making the bloody figures add up at the end of the day, too.”

“I understand that.” Alex clenched his hands into fists to try and keep from exploding; it seemed like they’d been having the same argument his entire life.

“No, you don’t – not really. In the past year, you’ve never once shown an interest in anything other than design. You’ve never asked to sit in a board meeting, or to attend marketing meetings.”

“I didn’t know I could?—”

“You didn’t know you could sit in the design studio, either, but you’ve found your way in there most days.”

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