by Beck Rowland
The bathroom featured a large, walk-in shower with warming tiles on the floor. Davey marveled over the Japanese toilet she’d had installed. She had to warn him against pressing any buttons, knowing from experience that some of them sprayed streams of water from hidden nozzles.
Zenaida’s bedroom included a closet that was nearly as large as the living room of her parent’s trailer. Since she hadn’t been able to reach Lara recently, Zenaida’s old clothes were still in a suitcase under Lara’s sofa. She had decided to start from scratch with an entirely new wardrobe. No absurd designer brands, but the quality was top-notch and everything had been tailored to her body. When Zenaida dressed now, every outfit gave her a sense of effortless, confident style.
Finally, they settled in the living room. Zenaida took the recliner, while Davey sprawled out on a large sectional couch. Zenaida slid a coaster across the coffee table and Davey set his drink down on it.
“I used to have an apartment like this… Well, my character in Grand Theft Auto did,” Davey remarked. “Speaking of which, where are all the videogame systems? Hell, where’s your television?”
“Haven’t bought any yet. It’s super tempting to sink into a hedonistic life of expensive food, entertainment, and buying overpriced crap on the Internet,” Zenaida said. “But the more I think about it, the more I realize that a life of laziness and luxury doesn’t really suit me.”
“I’m not surprised. They say money doesn’t change people, it just lets them become more of who they already were,” Davey chuckled. “You’re an idea girl. You like finding problems and creating solutions.”
Zenaida smiled and nodded. “Well, I think I’ve found a problem that I’d like to tackle. You’re going to call me crazy, though.”
“Zeny, you just bought me a freaking Lamborghini,” Davey laughed. “In my eyes, you can do no wrong. What’s on your mind?”
“Do you remember the conversation we had in the car a few weeks ago? When I wished someone could punish the ultra-rich for their misdeeds?” Zenaida asked.
“Sure. Don’t tell me you feel different now that you’re one of them,” Davey teased.
“On the contrary,” Zenaida said. “That lack of accountability, the lack of consequences… that’s the problem I want to solve.”
Davey paused, then sipped his drink. “How exactly do you plan to do that?”
“I want to become… well, kind of like a referee. Enforcing the rules of fair play, calling fouls when billionaires and corporations cross the line. Dishing out penalties when the need arises. I’ve already had Angelique register ‘Zen Corporation’ as an anonymous LLC in Nevada. Using ZenCorp as a shell company will give this project a legal and financial foundation. Oh, and tomorrow I’ll be signing the lease on an office space downtown.”
“ZenCorp?! Alright, that is pretty nuts,” Davey laughed. “You can’t penalize people for being successful.”
“They’ll only be penalized if they’re not playing fair.” Zenaida explained. “Come on Davey, you read the news. For some of these super rich people, no amount of money will ever be enough. It becomes a game to them— net worth is just a way of keeping score. They get greedy, ruthless. They turn their companies into weapons, used to gouge everybody else for as much as possible.”
“That’s capitalism baby,” Davey shrugged.
“It’s foul play,” Zenaida corrected. “Do you remember when I couldn’t pay my phone bill last year?”
“Sure. They cut you off, right? Didn’t you end up missing an interview?”
“I did, but that wasn’t the unfair part. I’d been with Lorenski Wireless for over a decade, and my service had only been cut off for an hour. But when I finally scrounged up the fifty bucks to pay my outstanding bill, they told me I was technically a brand new customer. They made me pay a two hundred dollar ‘account setup and connection fee’. I was already struggling, and that put me even deeper in the hole. It took me six months to pay that off.”
“Alright, that is pretty crappy. But there are no rules against being a lousy company,” Davey said.
“How about the law of basic human decency? The biggest problem is that until now, these companies have been playing the game without a referee calling their fouls. That’s what ZenCorp is going to change.”
Davey looked at Zenaida, then shook his head in disbelief. “Yep, you’re crazy. This is crazy. What’re you going to do? Waltz into VIP lounges and ask rich dudes to play nice?”
“I’ll ask at first. The smart ones will listen,” Zenaida explained. “The rest will have to learn the hard way.”
“And how do you plan to penalize billionaire corporate executives?” Davey asked.
“Picture some greedy corporate executive dumping toxic waste in a lake. Bam! I’m funding the community’s Class Action lawsuit. Bribing politicians for unfair business advantage? Whap! I’ve got a private investigator recording from the next table over. Exploiting underprivileged communities for financial gain? Ker-pow! I’m bankrolling a political campaign to enact protective government ordnances.”
“That sounds like a fast way to make enemies out of the entire Forbes List,” Davey said. He paused. “Although I must admit, it would be nice to see someone even the playing field.”
“Well, it’s happening. I’m doing it,” Zenaida said. “I thought I could relax and enjoy the millionaire high life. Turns out, I can’t. Everywhere I go, I see the rich getting richer by screwing everyone else over. I can’t just ignore it. I spent way too long on the receiving end.”
“Are you actually serious about this?” Davey put his drink down and leaned forward, examining Zenaida with visible concern.
“Serious as a heart attack. From now on, everybody getting rich through unfair, predatory practices gets a simple warning: either play nice, or I’m launching a bare-knuckled, bloody-nosed kamikaze corporate assault. I’m talking thermonuclear class warfare, laser-targeted at the ultra-rich sociopaths making life miserable for everybody else. All the shit the one-percenters thought they’d always get away with? That ends here and now,” Zenaida declared.
“Who do you have in mind for your first target?” Davey asked.
“Jack Tucksworth,” Zenaida announced. “Partially because his company’s data leaks screwed up my credit for years. Partially because I’m terrified of how much worse data leaks will get if Tucksworth gets his slimy claws on this new DataVortex program.”
Davey gawked. “Jack Tucksworth is acquiring DataVortex? Jesus. Talk about the fox guarding the hen house.”
“He’s going to try,” Zenaida corrected. “ZenCorp has twenty-five days to stop him.”
Davey shook his head, then stood up and walked to the window. He paced back and forth several times, deep in thought. “If you’re really going to do this, you can’t do it alone,” he said.
“You’re right. The company will need employees, people to help pursue ZenCorp’s targets.” Zenaida agreed. “First on the list is an IT guy. Needs to be someone smart, loyal, someone the ZenCorp CEO can trust with anything…”
“I may know someone like that,” Davey said slyly. “But I don’t know if you can afford him. His market value has undergone an exponential increase.”
Zenaida raised one eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”
Davey lifted his drink and grinned. “A toast! Not only to your new company— I finally passed my IT Certification Exam this morning!”
“Ahh! Congratulations!” Zenaida shrieked. She leapt up and hugged her friend, barely noticing when she knocked over the drinks. “That’s amazing news, I’m so proud of you! Where’s your certificate?”
“It takes a few days for the IT Certification Board to review your results and send the actual certificate. Once it shows up, I’m marching right into my manager’s office and slamming it on his desk. This promotion is long overdue!” Davey said.
“I’m so happy for you! You know, I should’ve asked before now, but what exactly are you certified in? IT is d
ivided into specializations, right?”
“That’s right. We have cybersecurity, networking, programming, stuff like that,” Davey said.”This certificate shows that I’ve achieved expert level in ‘all of the above’. No specific niche, just an all-round cyber wizard.”
“So ZenCorp has a certified, bona fide IT master on the team? That will definitely come in handy,” Zenaida said.
“I’ll help as much as I can in my off-time,” Davey laughed. “What else will ZenCorp need? You can’t wage war against corporate excess with a single part-time employee.”
Zenaida joined Davey at the window, then stared out at the city. There was a whole world out there that she scarcely understood. The one business course she’d taken in college had served only to help Zenaida understand how ignorant she was on the topic. Half forgotten terms swirled through her head. Amortization. SWOT analyses. Equity. Bull market and bear market. Which one was the good one? She’d need people to help navigate the world of business and boardrooms.
“We’ll need a lawyer. A really good one,” she decided finally. “And a business consultant. Someone with a strong finance background, who knows how to keep companies running smoothly.”
“The ZenCorp family is growing,” Davey grinned. “Together, the four of us shall overcome the tyranny of America’s wealthy elite.”
“Five,” Zenaida corrected. “I’m hoping Lara will help me run things, once she finally starts checking her texts.”
“Working together with my ex. How wonderful,” Davey said drolly. “Any idea how to actually find a lawyer or business consultant?”
Zenaida pulled out her phone. “Shouldn’t be too hard… Here we go, first result! America’s Top Five Most Prestigious Law Firms,” she read.
“You know this isn’t going to be cheap, right?” Davey asked.
“It’ll be worth it when I have a nice collection of CEO scalps to decorate my apartment with,” Zenaida winked. She swiped through her phone and smiled. “Awesome! All five have offices right down the street. I’ll head down to the business district tomorrow.”
Davey grabbed his drink and tilted it towards Zenaida. “To class warfare.”
Zenaida clinked her drink against his. “Viva la revolución.”
V.
Class War
Zenaida had a driver take her to the business district, then made a beeline for the offices of Cravath, Swaine & Moore. Cravath was the most prestigious of the firms on Zenaida’s list, which she assumed made them the best. She had the formative stages of an idea in mind, and she knew she’d need legal muscle to make it work. The receptionist was a young black girl in an elegant peach blouse.
“Good morning,” Zenaida smiled. “I’m looking for a really good lawyer. Is Mr. Cravath available?”
The receptionist smiled. “Get the hell out of here.”
Zenaida blinked in surprise. “Excuse me?” she asked.
“You heard me. What is this, some kind of YouTube prank?” the receptionist asked. She peered over Zenaida’s shoulder, looking for a camera. “Get lost.”
“It’s not a prank and I don’t know what I said wrong. I’ve recently started a company and I’ll need legal representation for our upcoming projects.” Zenaida said.
The receptionist stared at her for a long moment. Finally she sighed and shook her head. “Alright, I’ll bite. Why don’t you tell me a little about your projects, and I’ll let you know if we have anybody who can help.”
Zenaida smiled gratefully. She told the receptionist a condensed version of her plan. How Jack Tucksworth’s social media juggernaut had flouted user privacy, exposing millions of users to identity theft and fraud. How the company planned to expand its scope ever further, acquiring a powerful new program that would bring in more data than ever before. How she had come into sudden wealth, and wanted to use it to stop Tucksworth in his tracks. As she spoke, the receptionist’s eyes grew wider and wider.
Finally, Zenaida was done. The receptionist gave a slow smile. “Wow… I can tell you’re really serious about this. As a matter of fact, I do have somebody who’d like to hear about what you’re working on. Could you please take a seat over there?” she asked.
Zenaida thanked the receptionist and walked to the waiting area, then sat down with a sigh of relief. Things had started off bumpy, but they were back on track now. She flipped through a magazine while she waited for them to call her. Finally, the receptionist walked across. “Ma’am, could you please follow me? Our senior partners are ready in the main conference room.”
The room was enormous and well decorated, with dark navy carpeting and a long, polished mahogany conference table. Three men sat at the table, hands crossed in front of them. The receptionist gestured for Zenaida to take a seat at the head of the table, and then retreated to the back of the room.
“Good morning gentlemen. Thank you for your time,” Zenaida said. Her voice sounded tiny in the expansive room. She forced herself to speak louder. “I’m here because I need a lawyer, and I’ve heard that you’re the best.”
The closest of the men leaned forward and nodded. “You heard correctly. I’m Bill Seward. To my right is Richard Blatchford; to my left is Paul Cravath. We understand you’d like to retain our services for an important project?”
Zenaida nodded. “It all started with Peeper, the social networking site…” she began. Zenaida told the entire story again, going into even further detail as she laid out Peeper’s long history of privacy scandals. She told them about ZenCorp, and its mission to force fairness upon America’s corporate elite. Finally, she told them she was determined to stop Jack Tucksworth from acquiring the DataVortex program. All Zenaida needed was the legal muscle from their firm, and the operation could get underway.
Mr. Seward nodded solemnly as she spoke, one hand held to his chin. When Zenaida finished, he turned to Mr. Cravath.
“Well, sir. What do you say?” Seward asked. “Do we help this plucky young lady lead us into battle against one of America’s most influential tech industry leaders?”
“Well my good s-sir,” Cravath sputtered. He covered his mouth with one hand, coughed loudly. “I t-think we s-sh-should… b-bahaHAAHAHAAHA!”
Cravath burst into loud, raucous laughter. A second later, Seward and Blatchford joined him. Whooping, boisterous laughter filled the room. Blatchford struggled to speak between fits of giggles. “Sh-she said… she’s gonna teach them a LESSON! WahahAHAHAHA!” he laughed. Tears welled up in his eyes.
“Michelle, freaking thank you!” Seward chuckled to the receptionist. Hysterical laughter trailed away to scattered giggles. “You were SO right to bring this to us. Freaking HILARIOUS!”
Zenaida’s face burned. She shot a glare back to the receptionist, who wiped away her own tears of laughter.
“I told you guys!” the receptionist said. “It’s the least I could do. You’ve been on this internship for weeks, I figured you were overdue for a good laugh.”
“Internship… So you guys aren’t senior partners? Just a few bored interns looking for a good laugh,” Zenaida realized.
The one who’d called himself Cravath smiled. “And you delivered! You seriously believe you can just strong-arm Jack Tucksworth of all people? The man WIRED magazine dubbed ‘The Silicon Valley Psycho’? The guy who threatened, intimidated and clawed his way to the top of the social media dog pile? That’s the guy you want to go after?”
And then they burst into another riotous burst of laughter. Zenaida stood and marched from the room without looking back. As she let the door slam behind her, their fading laughter echoed behind her. She shook her head angrily as she stormed from the building.
Stupid, stupid. She wondered how she could have been so naive. She forced herself to take a deep breath as she stepped back onto the street.
It was beyond embarrassing, but she still needed a lawyer. If she let the humiliation sink in, she’d end up convincing herself to back down. Instead, she she shook off the
burning sense of shame and doubled down.
The next firm on her list was Watchell, Lipton, Rosen & Katz. Zenaida decided to change her strategy. After putting some distance between herself and Cravath’s office, she found a quiet park bench and pulled out her phone.
A man answered the phone. “Offices of Watchell Lipton, how can I help you?”
“Good morning. I’m calling on behalf of Miss Zenaida Ruiz, Zen Corporation Founder and Executive,” Zenaida said smoothly.
“Ah yes, of course. How can we be of assistance?” the man asked. Zenaida smiled. Just as she’d hoped, the man had answered as if he was familiar with the name.
“Miss Ruiz is seeking legal representation for an upcoming multi-domain initiative in the digital media space. She’d like to synergize with a thought leader to produce dynamic outcomes,” Zenaida said. She was throwing in random corporate buzzwords now, things she suspected didn’t even make sense. It didn’t matter. She just needed a meeting.
“I understand. One of our senior associates has several openings this week. How soon could Miss Ruiz be available to discuss her initiative with him?” the man asked.
“She can clear some time this very afternoon. Please book an appointment for two thirty. Thank you kindly,” Zenaida said.
“Two thirty, thank you very much. Please tell Miss Ruiz we look forward to working with her.” the man said. Zenaida hung up and smiled.
That afternoon, she sat down in the small, cozy office of Watchell Lipton’s senior associate. His name was Bernard Marten, a tall, slight man with a hook-like nose and bright, searching eyes. He examined Zenaida as she settled into her seat. Between framed diplomas and certificates, Zenaida saw framed photos of Marten’s family. He had a daughter who looked roughly Zenaida’s age. If Marten was surprised by the youth of ZenCorp’s founder, he was professional enough not to show it.