Two words that came to Grace’s mind when she thought about Los Angeles: wasted potential. So much open land and such an inviting climate had created a sprawling modern metropolis, but one full of disorder and romantic delusions. For all the gifts it had given the world it’s flaws confronted her every day, the unmanageable traffic, the endless small municipalities adding up to an ungovernable whole, the vast areas in need of urban renewal, and the ever encroaching threat of disorder that lied beneath the surface of politics and governance. Like the rest of the Technocracy, she compared it unfavorably with Irvine, one of their midcentury projects and a great success by most measures, planned in exacting detail by a corporation under their control before even a single brick was laid, and still the nexus of their power in the region in the present day. Irvine was where her home was, a Spartan affair inside a gated community, equipped with more security measures than furnishings. She spent little time there, her duties seldom gave her uninterrupted down time, and Grace was not overly fond of that house in any case.

	Power in Los Angeles had a unique structure: every time a new circle entered it only seemed to add complexity and more layers, never fully displace any of those that had come before it. Before she was a field operative, Grace was a historian, and she knew about their various instruments they had tried to use to impose additional controls and how all of them ran into obstacles. The Army Corps of Engineers, defense spending, the Aerospace Industry, junk bonds, capital inflows from Asia, personal computers all were useful tools, but none ever gave them a total victory. What it gave was more things to discuss, more ideas to attempt, and more subjects for conference calls like the one she found herself in right now.


“So that covers how it went with Hastings. He’s been good lately, easier to deal with than the headcase who makes me wish Twitter never existed, in spite of all of the value we’ve gotten out of it and our work with him.”

 Arvind said over the phone. He technically was stationed in Los Angeles, but found every excuse to be away that he could. He could find plenty to occupy himself around San Francisco or San Diego, but every so often he got into a jurisdictional fight and had to retreat back with his tail between his legs. 

Brett was the next to speak
 “To give you a quick download, from the ten thousand foot view it’s all in line with projections. Now, if you drill down you’ll see there’s a lot of moving parts but even our timetables can’t accommodate all of them, it’s like trying to boil the ocean.”

 That was a sign Brett didn’t really want to talk about what was going on. Grace had morbid curiosity, but wouldn’t dare ask him directly. They were already at odds over several things (one proposed assassination target was a recurring sticking point), and had arrived at their posts by opposite means. Grace had been given her position as a great test, while Brett had fallen back down from a higher post. His signature achievements had been in finance, but like many Syndicate veterans, his schemes had a habit of blowing up in his face after a few years. The Technocracy’s policies were unwavering, and he could count himself lucky that demotion was his only punishment, even if he spent his days hoping to reach the heights of the 80s again.

“Reach out to me and we can circle back around to any action items later, after all this is just a stand up, I can’t touch base about every conceivable thing that could have any impact. You know we’re all one team here, and an easy win for any of us is an easy win for all of us!”

 His words were even less charming once one learned that he used technological assistance to choose them. Choe had lambasted him publicly for it once when she’d been in town surveying the damage from the financial crisis; people teased him about in the small ways they could without running afoul of policies encouraging workplace harmony.

After that it was Grace’s turn 
“Little threat activity to report at present, a report on that recent bout of factional warfare is approaching completion. Project Arbor is going well, I believe my next phase will focus on securing JPL. It’s been quite a challenge for us in the past, Parsons did so much damage that it lingers to this day, long after his elimination. I’m optimistic about our prospects at present.”

Finally, Ray spoke.  
“Very good. The meeting is adjourned” 

He said in his heavy Spanish accent. He was old, too old to make the trip to the front lines without health risks, spending his days in a realm beyond, but despite his age he never bothered to lose his accent. It was by choice, when he spoke through a willing proxy on earth he could take on any voice, but speaking that way reminded him who he was, and reminded everyone who they were speaking to, and what he was in charge of. That certainly helped get his point across when his taciturn phrases didn’t .

	Grace’s Tesla pulled out of the empty parking garage and cruised through the pristine streets of downtown, the not-yet-public self driving mode allowing her to focus on other matters. There was always more data to review, more leads to pursue, and even with her enhancements and wakefulness drugs it could overwhelm her. The key to all of the colorful charts and streaming lines of text was proper focus, recognition of the signal from the noise, and that was something Grace excelled at. Inside it all there was conversation she made sure to give proper time to, her exchange with her subordinate Julie.

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	After that, Grace focused on the road. She had an appointment to make that night. She didn't know if the subject of her appointment would be expecting her, but that was just part of standard operating procedure. Assume nothing, question everything.