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Iss. 3,955 Friday 18th October 2024 ₲4.97
FORT GARRITT MORNING CHRONICLE
Hawkinovate Inc CEO Killed in Vicious Hit-and-Run
Heath Hawkins, Chairman and CEO of the emergency and medical tech company Hawkinovate Inc, has died in hospital after a hit and run accident during an international meeting between medical development companies in Olkaria.
Held in Lubos City, the meeting was hoped to bring attention to technological developments in robotic prosthetics and on-site emergency care; on the way to the meeting, along with his wife Krolia, Mr. Hawkins’ car was crashed into by another vehicle.
Mrs. Hawkins was pronounced dead at the scene, and despite the efforts of doctors, Mr. Hawkins succumbed to heavy internal bleeding yesterday evening. The second car, a blue mercury flux turbo, drove away from the scene and police are currently searching for it.
The hit-and run leave the ownership of the ₲170 billion company to Mr and Mrs Hawkins thirteen-year-old son, Keith, who is currently attending Peribadi, a private boarding school in Altea. His care will be taken over by relatives, and management of the company will be monitored by its shareholders until further notice.
One of the current shareholders, COO Kolivan Rolston, made a statement at the company headquarters here in Fort Garritt early this morning:
‘ The loss of Mr Hawkins and his wife, my niece, is a tremendous and heavy loss to all who work for Hawkinovate. Mr Hawkins was a good and generous man, who was know for his fair standards across all levels of his company. Mrs Hawkins was a key member of the medical development research team, and we are just as struck by her loss, and its impact on our future innovations. It is no stretch for me to express condolences of everyone here to their son; due to his age Keith will not be available for comment, and I will ask that his privacy be respected during this time. ’
The accident, which took place at roughly 11:30pm, occurred at… [Click for full article]
Article by Remdax Millsap. Photography © Vakala Moy-Lars.
“I need to work out how to connect the synapses to the ports,” Pidge mumbled, the pages of her reference books pring into her cheek as she mourned her empty coffee mug. “Else it won’t be useful for anyone, let alone testing.”
She had been staring at her books and computers and diagrams for several days trying to figure out how to integrate her design into the microsurgical procedures that her partner had proposed for their combined project.
The room was starting to smell damp again, winter chill settling into the walls, and she hefted a blanket back up around her shoulders. Last thing she needed was a cold, but it was either suffer in one of the forgotten back rooms of GalTech’s R&D halls, or put up with Lotor hovering around her work like a bad smell, picking up her diagrams and equation sheets, her design concepts without so much as a by-your-leave and generally making a nuisance of himself.
If he wanted something to do, he should have come up with a Master’s project that wasn’t a basic redesign of the Smythe aircraft turbines instead of trying to mooch his way through off the other candidates. He’d been sour ever since Professor Trigel had dismissed his proposal after Katie pointed out the similarity to the designs of their grant donor, but that was what he got for being a lazy ass.
“I hope you figure it out,” a familiar voice groaned back. “Because the research committee has just decided that until there’s more development on the technology integration from the robotics to the microsurgery implants, that we won’t be able to test the prototype on a cadaver.”
Katie nearly fell out of her chair as she whirled around at the sound of Romelle’s despondent voice. “What?!” She blurted. “But we have to test the prototype before I can finalise the design of the connections! I can’t finish it if I don’t know where the connections are failing!”
The news they had been expecting to hear about the next stage of their combined PhD project was not this. This was a setback, and one that would put them back by months.
It was kind of hard to test robotic arms utilising microbiological and surgical tech advancements to connect nerve endings and synapses–thus enabling cognitive function and non-simulated sensation–when they couldn’t test those connections on a body. They couldn’t just stick the arm on some poor sod and hope for the best!
“I know, I told them that, but Dr. Trayling said the medical programme is cutting back on the cadavers it allows into use with other schools. There is actually a shortage right now, so I can see where he’s coming from, but–”
“–But nothing Romelle! We’ve had one ordered for six months in advance since last term! None of the the other med-tech teams have to go into production without a cadaver test! Ina’s already working on the bio coating for her Optrex! We need a biological component to test!”
Romelle made that face where she looked like a mouse waiting for a storm to pass. “I know, I really tried to tell them. If we try to make a connection without knowing how it’s going to affect the CNS we could make someone paraplegic…” she mumbled flopping into a chair. “…I’m seriously considering calling my uncle and asking him to talk the research board. This is ridiculous.”
“You won’t,” Katie guessed, turning back to her extensive pages of notes and planning, wondering how on earth she could proceed any further without a genetic base to model the connection port off. “Unlike daddy’s boy, you have pride.”
“Nope. But I really, really want to,” Romelle sighed, looking forlornly at her own notes and research. “We’ll just have to be patient, maybe refine some of the design until the next cadaver is assigned to us. They can’t do this a second time.”
Katie problem was she was that she was an optimist; despite the strangeness of the circumstances, she believed her, and six months later, her and Romelle’s hopeful pursuits would be the single, most absolute regret in their respective careers.
Iss. 7,070 Monday 30th May 2033 ₲4.97
FORT GARRITT MORNING CHRONICLE
Keith Hawkins succeeds his father at Hawkinovate Inc.
The doors of Hawkinovate Inc welcomed new management yesterday, as Keith Hawkins, son of the former Chairman and CEO Heath, who perished in a car accident alongside his wife eight years ago, inherited the majority share in the company and took on his father’s positions under the beady eyes of the business and tech spheres.
Acting CEO, CFO Zarkon Tomita, COO Kolivan Rolston, amongst other shareholders and business associates, including Coran Smythe, welcomed the new Chairman, and despite some unease in recent days surrounding shares on the VTN 5, shares have since stabilised and held steady, with a rise of 5.14 (0.07%) as of 10:45am, following Mr.Hawkin’s company address.
He spoke this morning from from the Vermilion building’s press room, to news teams and internal departments (as well as all branches in Altea, Olkaria, and Taujeer) on his plans for the future and present challenges.
‘ I’d like to thank everyone to for taking the time out of their morning to allow me to introduce myself; taking over my family’s success is something I can only describe as exhilarating and terrifying, and I can understand that many of the shareholders and executives might have some misgivings with my decision to take a direct role in this company. Graduating college doesn’t mean I know everything, especially with the evolutions a company this large goes through on a daily basis, but I am also not ignorant; over the next few years, new policies and new projects, and new developments will be in order to redirect our vision where it has strayed, and take the steps into the new fields and places our technology can make a difference. I have a lot to learn, but this is my father’s legacy, and I want to take this company to the places he never got the chance to. I intend to learn fast. ’
Mr Hawkins later went on to assure all employees that new plans and developments would not include job cuts, or department downsizing, something that came as a great relief to many of the 1,500 employees of Vermillion alone fearing yet more cuts.
Hawkinovate Inc has been known for its redacted policies in the years since the death of the CEO, with committee based decisions taking place in the absence of a chairman. Several have criticised the decision to branch into military operations at all, with founder policies promising to deliver primarily to public care.
The company certainly hasn’t failed, and indeed its main interest in emergency technology has remained its core pursuit, however to say it has stayed true to its initial principals and maintained its reputation for fair employment. In the last two years alone over 200 jobs were cut from the company’s research divisions in favour of entering into contracts with military medical services.
‘ I don’t believe that the directions taken with the company since my father’s passing have been entirely wrong, and plan to maintain our work with Terra’s military, ’ Hawkins said, when asked about the future of the company’s current military contracts, which are currently developing service robots to assist field medics. ‘ All I will say for certain is that while any new contracts will not be ruled out, I don’t want them to be made a priority over our primary tech developments in the future. ’
While many older members of the company may appreciate the return to roots that Mr. Hawkins inheritance promises, others retain judgement, and yet others have already criticised his plans as what they see as heel-face-turn to advancement and expansion which had given the company significant growth.
Macidus Gal, one of the other shareholders, is once such sceptic; ‘ I think our new chairman has his heart in the right place, and it certainly setting off on a good tone. I’d like to bring some focus back to our main industries and see them shine again, but I think some of his plans may change over time, as his judgement improves and he gains a little maturity. We can’t ignore progress for the sake of history. ’
Maturity plays a key part in many of Mr. Hawkin’s sceptics; at age 22, he is the youngest CEO in company history, if not within the entirety of business circles. Though undoubtedly capable–Hawkins graduated from Altea’s prestigious Arsalan University in Polluxia, just weeks before yesterday’s broadcast and press conference–his reputation amongst social circles makes shareholders and investors uneasy.
Only time will tell if Keith Hawkins has inherited more than just his father’s fortune, and if his plans for Hawkinovate Inc, will prove his worth beyond weekend getaways and personal scandals.
Article by Remdax Millsap. Photography © Vakala Moy-Lars.
Katie Holt slammed her locker door closed with as much force as she could muster, locking away her handbag and the plastic carrier stuffed with the clothes she’d worn to her interview a few hours before. The one she’d give up a shift–and more importantly–a paycheck for.
“No luck today either?” Nyma asked, wincing at the ring of the metal door through the small staffroom.
“They wouldn’t even interview me Nyma!” She groaned, biting her lip and willing her angry, frustrated tears to stay off her face. She didn’t have the time for a crying headache on top of the one her day had already given her. “I showed up and waited but as soon as I stepped in they turned me away!”
“Maybe they just found someone else?” Her workmate offered trying to sound hopeful.
Katie shook her head. “I was so sure this time! I even spoke to them during the phone interview about what happened at school, and they seemed more understanding!” She raged. “The woman even said the fact that I’d still graduated proved I was worth at least an interview! It’s not like Garritt Uni was much of a step down from GalTech! It was my second choice when I was in high school! I just….How can they justify doing something like that?”
Before she could launch into another rant, filled with more bitter words and loud complaints, Nyma pulled her into a tight hug. “Hey, you’ll find something Pidge, I know it. Your brain is too good to go to the wayside forever. Someone is going to notice it, you’ll see, you just have to stay patient. What’s for you–”
“–won’t go by you,” Katie finished, a little more warmly as she flopped into her friend’s offer of comfort. “I know. Thanks Nyma,” she sighed, taking a breath to try and rearrange her headspace away from her failed interview and back towards her current job. The one paying her bills and slowly grinding away at her college repayments. “Has it been busy tonight?”
Nyma winced. “Hellish. Rich kid party? Business party?” She shrugged. “I’m not sure exactly, but there are a ton of college kids and people in suits that cost as much as our water bills.”
Pidge sighed again, then she looked down at the usual black blouse and slim black jeans she wore behind the bar, and absently unbuttoned one or two buttons, shifting her bra to bump up her cleavage. Nyma raised an eyebrow as she pinned on her name badge and attached her access cards and waiters’ friend tools to one of her belt loops.
“Hey, just because I’m not a pole girl doesn’t mean I can’t use my body to take advantage of drunk idiots for more tips,” she said pointedly. “And if it’s a business party then you know they’ll be generous. Last time we had one of these Rolo made eight-seventy Gac in tips just from letting that Olkari dude talk at him. All he did was smile and nod while the guy drank himself under the table.”
Nyma considered that, and Pidge didn’t bother to restrain her snickers when she hiked her skirt up a little bit more as they made their way down the hall and out onto the main floor of the club.
Neon lights left a low sear on their eyes as they made their way towards the bar, a central ring in the middle of the room, opposite the stage, with a dance floor to the back, and more private, leather lined booths on the remaining sides.
As Nyma picked up a tray of drinks already waiting on the counter, getting the table from Rolo, Katie joined Tevo on the bar itself.
“Hey Pidge — two Painkillers, a Bramble and a Whiskey Sour if you can!” He called out, digging down into a chilled vat for crushed ice with a scoop, dropping it into a tumbler.
Katie sighed. She reminded herself that her dependency on her high school cocktail fluency was temporary, and that the four years she had spent on her Robotic Engineering PhD were not going to waste as she reached under the counter for the Crème de Mures.
“On it.”
She just wished she could believe it.
What felt like hundreds of neon signs decorated the front entrance to a dark, private building just off from the centre of central Garritt, and Keith stared at them all suspiciously as he followed his companion out of the car, locking it with a jerk of his keys over his shoulder.
The brightest of the signs read the name ‘ Xanthuria ’ and suddenly, he felt even more tense than he had arguing with Gal and Tomita.
“Lance, where are we this time?” He asked, already preparing himself; he supposed it couldn’t be worse than the time his friend dragged him to the red light district in Pollux. He could still hear the backlash from Kolivan’s video call immediately following that particular high school stunt.
Lance just waved his hands in the air, giving finger-guns to the doorman, who endured the gesture with a grimace Keith was only too familiar with; Lance was one of his best friends, but he was kind of exhausting - in an endearing sort of way.
“It’s just a club — I told you. You need a break — thanks Rax,” Lance shrugged, far too evasively as they passed beneath the sign over the door. Keith just had a few moments before Lance dragged him past the barrier Rax held up to glance at the smaller writing beneath it, completing the sign; ‘ Xanthuria Private Eyes Club ’
“A strip club?” Keith despaired as they headed down the narrow hallway towards a booming darker room. “You brought me to a strip club? Lance! It’s hard enough to get those old prunes to trust me as it is! If someone gets my picture here–”
“–Oh please, like Gal doesn’t go to the north district to get his jollies from Senfama,” Lance snorted as they dipped through the second entry way into the club, directing themselves towards the bar in the centre. “They’ll probably pat you on the back and you know it. Here, put this wristband on.”
Keith took the wristband and stared at it. It looked like general tech, a flat purple LED strip with a low glow. The low reverb and beat of the music was getting louder and as they stepped through the servers and small crowd, it felt like it was slowly bouncing around inside his body, from the top of head to the inner membranes of his gut.
“I hate places like this. I can’t concentrate on anything,” Keith frowned fumbling with the band.
“Yes, that’s the point Keith,” Lance grumbled, before turning to the bartender, who was still shaking something up for another patron somewhere. “Hey my man, two Painkillers, a Bramble and a Whiskey Sour please!”
“I’ll be with you as soon as I ca–” he broke off as another girl appeared, still tying an apron around her waist. “–Hey Pidge, two Painkillers, a Bramble and a Whiskey Sour if you can?”
“On it.”
“They’ll be right with you, are you taking a booth or sitting here?” The first bartender asked as the girl started what looked like Lance’s usual fruity, diabetes-inducing concoction.
“Booth?” Keith blinked.
Lance rolled his eyes, then steered Keith by the shoulders until he was looking towards one of the opposite sides of the room. Booths lined the walls, and lights circling one they sat in immediately glowed with purple that matched the wristband.
He made a face and Lance flashed his own wristband at the the section of the counter where they were standing instead, turning it to the same shade. “We’ll sit here,” he told the bartender.
Keith would normally prefer to hide away in a corner, but who knew what those seats were covered in? No, the bar was likely far more hygienic, and it was also closer to the door. He could order water to keep himself moderately sober too.
As Lance chatted a little with the first bartender, Keith reached into his pocket and brought out a small digital pad which extended to something more the size of an A4 paper with the tap of a finger. He was glad he’d had the foresight to bring his datapad with him, and he flicked through the notes he’d left off on before the drive over.
Waiting as the screen adjusted to the unusual lighting Keith found himself frowning. It flickered back and forth between low and bright and he frowned. That was far from ideal when these were being marketed to search and rescue teams.
It was supposed to have been developed for the rescue workers of Taujeer, a country which had significant seismic and volcanic activity. This was a pre-release prototype he’d been sent for final approval from a recent employee, but he had wanted to try using it himself before signing off on the production.
If the pad couldn't maintain safe brightness in the semi-controlled lighting of a strip club, how was it supposed to work in more changing environments? Cave-ins? Avalanches? Storms of the type that left destruction in their wake? He’d have to speak to the people at Samasama. There was no way it would be acceptable.
“Keith, why are you looking at your data pad?” Lance asked, his voice layered with enforced suffering. “You’re supposed to be relaxing!”
“I want to finish going through the plans Hunk sent through for the cybernetic prototype; once they’re finalised them we can move ahead. If we take too long Tomita’s going to call another finance meeting and he’s already got more of the other shareholders listening to him than I’d like,” Keith reiterated, defaulting to lowering the brightness before bring up the project. “Though knowing these pads don’t self-adjust brightness properly is good to know, too. Who was in charge of the development project for these? Were they even tested outside of the lab?”
“Pretty sure they were under Rabe-Summer’s division,” Lance said. “Tomita approved the manufacture just before you took the chair. Gal and Sampson made up his majority, but Kolivan and Antok rejected it based on the development reports. Torseth wasn’t too sure so he abstained and Lowes followed his lead. Look, please, if I promise to come over tonight and go through these with you, will you put down the pad, have a couple of drinks, and have a bit of fun?”
Realising Lance wasn’t going to take no for an answer, Keith sighed, and dropped the data pad down onto the counter, frowning at the sound the coating made on the surface. It didn’t even sound sturdy. What the heck had they been doing in development when they came up with it?
“I’ll try to, but I make no guarantees,” he grunted.
“That’s a start at least.”
“Whiskey Sour, two Painkillers and a Bramble?”
Keith looked up at the girl–the average kind of bar girl, with pretty hair and a nice figure –who had taken over their drinks. They were on a tray on the countertop, and she had an eyebrow raised, with all the patience of someone who had none at all. Keith couldn’t help but think he knew the feeling.
“Thanks sweetness,” Lance beamed, winking at her, taking the drinks and holding out a couple of twenty Gac notes. “Keep the change.”
“Save it for the pole dancers honey,” she said taking the notes with two fingers. “But thanks, I will!” She smiled.
Keith hid his smirk in his drink and coughed into his laugh as Lance deflated, watching as the girl went to the tills, taking the change and depositing it into a jar on the back counter decorated with a fluffy green lid and clusters of googly eyes and nuts and bolts. The eyes made out a name, but he couldn’t see it too clearly with the way the jar was standing.
“Do you have to flirt with everyone moderately attractive that you see?” He asked.
“Just the ones I like, I don’t flirt with you, do I?”
Keith would have argued that the first time he met Lance, it had been at a party in high school, and the boy had sidled up to him, arm-stretched and come out with the brilliant one liner ‘ Wow, is it just me or is it hot in here? ’, but both of them agreed never to talk about that.
“…maybe you should try to talk to someone. It’s been months since you had human contact,” Lance suggested, and Keith made a face.
“I don’t need setting up, Lance,” he grumbled. “I’ve told you before.”
“I’m not talking about getting set up, I just mean getting laid. When was the last time you shagged someone?” Keith ignored his friend, and sipped his drink, turning his eyes back to his data pad. “It was the Brodar's! It's not healthy to be best friends with your hand–” Keith choked on his Whiskey Sour. “–when there are plenty of people happy with one-night-romps.”
The bartender bit her lip furiously, rushing away to help out another patron (probably before she started outright laughing at her customers), and Keith glared at his friend. “Can we not talk about my sex life in public?” He asked
“You don’t have one right now so what is there to talk about?” Lance snorted. “Honestly, your fine side of manflesh is wasted if you dont at least indulge in its potential.”
“I’ll indulge when I want to, thanks — do you really have nothing better to do than try to get me laid? Because I know there are at least ten reports sitting in your inventory that were due yesterday morning.”
“I’ll get to them,” Lance waved a hand in the air, before settling it and pointing at one of the women seated down in front of the stage in a black, off the shoulder dress, sleek and expensive. She had short red hair, a longer section at one side pulled into a bead ornament. “But in regards to your unhealthy relationship with your hand, my research tells me that Merla Clemens has as much fondness for emotional attachment as you. You should seek her out, my friend.”
Keith wondered how on earth he was going to get himself out of whatever ludicrous plan Lance had concocted. “Please don’t tell me you invited her here,” he begged.
“No, I just learned her schedule. She’s got a dancer she likes to watch,” Lance said without blinking; Keith wondered if that should scare him or not. “Invite a chick to a strip club, please. I like to imagine myself with some class.”
“I’m not going up to some random socialite and propositioning them,” Keith said bluntly. “If you’re so gung ho about this, you do it.”
“Dude, are you actually asking me to flirt for you?” Lance choked. “That’s pathetic!”
Keith ignored the disbelieving stare for another, long sip of his drink, draining the last of the lemoy-amber liquid from the melting ice in the bottom of the glass. “This was your idea,” he shrugged, waving the bartender. “Same again, please.”
She nodded, taking the glass and starting a fresh one.
“Fiiiine, I’ll be your wingman, again, but one day you’ll have to start doing this by yourself,” Lance said, taking the two Painkillers and leisurely making his way towards the front of the stage where the girl– Morna? Mary? –sat.
Keith waited until Lance was fully distracted, then basked in the relative peace, and opened up his datapad once again. The clinking sound of ice and glass as the bartender mixed up his drink hidden beneath the drone of the music.
Or maybe it was just the drinks. In any scenario, Keith was able to continue his initial plans to check the prototype schematics in relative peace. The drink wasn’t bad either.
If he’d been back at the apartment, he’d probably have opened a bottle of Nettare to the same effect, but professionally mixed drinks were better than any home-made mash-up he could come up with.
At the very least, the data pad was functioning properly, even if it didn’t seem to have the right durability or design base that was originally intended–why on earth did it have built in music streaming? Had the Rabe-Summer even read the proposal and design briefs they had drafted with the Taujeerian emergency teams?–because with a few taps, he had the schematics projected above the counter in 3D mode.
Taking his time to go through the notes, he turned the projection with one hand, examining all the points from the engineers developing the tech, oblivious in his alcohol haze and focus to a pair of studious eyes examining the diagram in equally keen detail.
So.... I was working on Zine stuff and dragons but..... @Aknazer came up with some stuff when I mentioned the absence of a Kidge SugarDaddy AU, and we all know I have no impulse control, so here we are.
Thank you to @KDXArt for turning my sleep-scribble/typing hieroglyphics into actual words <3