Trade Me (Cyclone #1)

“So,” he says. “Internet: we have to talk about your gossip problem. Apparently there are rumors out there that we have a new, undisclosed product codenamed Fernanda. The top three claims are…”

He does a quarter turn, and as he talks, bullet points appear behind him. They’re familiar to me. They should be; I wrote them. I can’t help but feel a sense of pride.

“One,” he says. “Fernanda is a flying smart drone that will mix drinks and deliver them.” A cute little animated video plays, demonstrating this, and the audience’s laughter can be heard over the feed.

“Get it straight,” he says with a straight face. “That’s next year’s product line.”

The laughter doubles.

“Two,” he says, “some of you think that Fernanda is an injectable microchip for people that allows you to pay for things without using your wallet or a phone.”

There’s a clip of a woman waving her hand in front of a credit card reader.

Yu wrinkles his nose. “That’s disgusting. Where do you get these ideas?” He pauses. “No, don’t tell me. Do I look like I want to know? We don’t mind if you write Cyclone/microchip fanfic. Just don’t show it to us. Thank you.”

I can’t help myself. I grin and lean back.

“Three,” Yu says. “Some of you apparently think that Fernanda is a watch. Come on, internet. How unrealistic can you be? Even though the smartwatch technology is relatively new, the field is already crowded. And the challenges of producing a truly excellent watch are enormous. You guys know that Cyclone doesn’t get into a field unless we can leave our competitors in the dust. Unless we can put out something that is easier to use and more robust than anything on the market. Come on, people. What are the chances that Cyclone would be getting into the smartwatch business?”

There’s a long, dramatic pause.

Yu smiles. “Actually, one out of three isn’t bad.”

The audience erupts in applause, and despite myself, despite the fact that I wrote that last little section, I find myself smiling along with them.

“I want you to meet our newest product. She’s been codenamed Fernanda, but now she’s ready to be called by her launch name: the Cyclone Vortex.” The watch practically sells itself, and as Yu goes through its features, he does a good job of snarking on the competition without ever mentioning them by name.

“Of course,” he says, when discussing the health monitoring features, “if what you want is to have a GPS record of your run, you’ll do what every athlete does. You’ll put on your watch. And then you’ll strap a tablet, a phone, a printer, and the complete works of Shakespeare to your back.” He grins. “Oh, wait. Nobody wants to do that. That’s why the Vortex has a built in GPS chip, so it’s not dependent on any of our other technology.”

The crowd oohs over the circumference ring scrolling.

“But the Vortex has another amazing feature,” Yu says. “Remember how I told you earlier that we had updated our computers with the newest, the best video app ever invented? One that could follow your face as you walked around the room? Well, the Vortex is the first fully video-capable watch in the world. Let me bring up Lisa, our product management specialist.”

He taps the watch, and Lisa, a smiling brunette, answers. They show how the watch automatically adjusts the video to stay on his face, even when he gestures, waves his hands, and then—to tumultuous applause—performs a handstand. The video of his face is jerky, but it’s video.

Lisa on the other side of the call smiles. “It’s amazing,” she says. “I only wish…”

Yu clambers to his feet. “Yes. We’re trying. But it’s not the same thing without them.” He doesn’t say who they are.

From here on out, this part of the launch is new. It was going to be Adam and Blake, but Adam’s in the hospital and Blake… I lean forward.

“Some of you found the patents last night,” Lisa says, “and so you know that Blake and Adam had their hands on the Vortex the way they do all Cyclone products. We’re told that Adam is in the ICU and active at the moment, and that he’ll make a full and complete recovery. We’re sorry that they can’t say hi in person and introduce the Vortex to you themselves, but Adam’s health has to come first.”

Yu shakes his head, looking sad. “After all, it’s not like we made a portable device that allows people to make three-way video calls over a cellular network.”

There’s a single second delay—a moment of breathless silence while everyone processes this—and then a beep.

Incoming call, the projection of the watch screen behind them says. Adam Reynolds.

“Oh, wait.” Yu grins, taps his watch, and a little icon of Adam’s face projects onto the screen. “It turns out that we did.”

The video rearranges to show Adam in a green gown, a slice of gray wall and an IV pole visible behind him. “Hey David,” he says. “How’s the launch going?”