Page 1 of The Dis-Graced
Prologue
Drake
Oh, ALAN, what am I going to do with you?
The code is flawless. I know because I had a hand in designing it. Of course, my father did some of the work, but he could never get it up off the ground. I did.
But ALAN isn’t a Siri or Alexa or any other stream of code that bends to its master’s bidding. ALAN thinks for himself, crunches numbers faster than any supercomputer known to man, and he has a raging crush on Rachel Green from Friends.
Who can blame him?
A big part of me wants to push into the next round of testing, after all, if we don’t complete the tech, someone else will. Being first to the market has huge advantages and ensures the greatest chance of product longevity.
But this isn’t just any tech. This is the greatest technological singularity event of our time. Once we unleash this ‘beast,’ there’s no going back, and God only knows what the consequences will be. Human relations have already evolved enormously with the advent of social media, with the introduction of artificial intelligence to this level, it’s entirely possible that life as we know it will change.
Of course, Elliot’s going to lose his shit if I tell him I’m going to continue to hold back. He thinks society will adjust to AI tech like they did to cars. I wish I could share in his exuberance towards ALAN and just run straight into it, but I don’t want to end up on the wrong side of history.
At least Luke will have my back, not that it will matter to Elliot, who only respects the opinions of the blue-blooded.
I really wish my father had lived to see this. The fruition of his seed he planted so long ago. His ‘fifth son.’
It’s already eleven, and I don’t want another sleepless night, so I surf the web to clear my mind, checking in on all the tabloid sites to make sure my name isn’t trending.
Heiress engaged. Athlete tests positive for steroids. Reality star pregnancy. Brigger Steele…what is this?
Famed Journalist Dis-Graced
Oh, God no!
I click into an article, hoping my eyes are deceiving me, but a quick skim of the text confirms my fears.
This doesn’t make any sense? She’s young, beautiful, with an amazing career ahead of her. Why would Grace Anders ever sleep with a person she’s supposed to be reporting on?
How do you think she got that amazing career?
My phone vibrates, jolting me from my thoughts.
Luke:I need a favor…
Chapter 1
Grace
I open the door to my new apartment, exhausted from a day full of delayed flights and nightmare layovers. I flick on the lights and roll my luggage just past the doorway before letting go of the handle so I can scout out the bedroom.
I took a cab straight from the airport to my new place, not even bothering to stop for food. Traffic was terrible, but it’s New York City, so that’s to be expected.
Vaulted ceilings, bamboo flooring, slate fireplace—yes, please!
I walk past the kitchen boasting enormous stainless steel appliances, peeking in each room until I find the one with a California king bed with my name on it. In mankind’s history of Mondays—this one was truly the worst.
“Not too bad, Drakey Boy,” I say, exhaling a relieved breath as I survey the contemporary furnishings.
“Let’s just hope that Drakey Boy’s generosity doesn’t come back to bite him on the ass,” a vaguely familiar voice says from behind.
It takes me less than a moment to place it, though I have only ever heard the woman speak once in the past. Mrs. Irene Dallanger, Drake Dallanger’s mother.
I turn to face the domineering woman, determined not to falter in front of the human piranha. Although she’s well into her sixties, Irene’s considerable wealth has afforded her a pricy skincare routine, and possibly some top-notch surgical help to assist her in looking closer to forty, and certainly not old enough to be the mother of one of the wealthiest men in the world.
