While waiting at the coffee shop downstairs, Maya's phone buzzed. The screen showed Washington Holdings quarterly report ready for review. She glanced around then quickly silenced it. A text followed. Maya, your 6 p.
M. Presentation materials are prepared. Should I have James set up the conference room? Executive assistant. She deleted both messages and focused on the coffee orders.
Back on the 47th floor, Maya distributed drinks with quiet efficiency. When she reached Derek's office, she knocked softly. Finally. He didn't look up from his computer. Set it down and get out.
I have real work to do. As Maya placed the cup on his desk, she noticed his screen. Email threads with subject lines like diversity problem and lowering standards. Her photographic memory captured the sender names, timestamps, conversation threads. Something wrong?
Derek's voice was sharp. No, sir. Is there anything else you need? Yeah, stay out of my way. 11:45 a.
M. 6 hours and 15 minutes remaining. Maya found herself assigned to the copy room, a windowless space filled with industrial printers and filing cabinets. Other employees passed by, some offering sympathetic glances, others openly staring. The elderly janitor, Mr. Rodriguez, wheeled his cart past the doorway.
He'd worked these floors for 15 years, invisible to most executives. But when he saw Maya organizing files with mathematical precision, he paused. You okay, Miha? Maya looked up, surprised by the kindness. I'm fine, thank you.
I've seen a lot of interns come through here. Most quit after the first week. His weathered hands adjusted his cleaning supplies. You're different. Before Maya could respond, Jennifer Walsh appeared with her phone still recording.
Still here? I honestly thought you'd given up by now. The live stream now showed 1,200 viewers. Comments flooded the screen. She's trying so hard.
This is painful to watch. Someone help her. Maya continued organizing documents. Each paper was placed with deliberate care, as if she were handling million-dollar contracts instead of copy room filing. "My followers think you should maybe consider a different career path, " Jennifer continued.
"Something more suited to your background. " "What background would that be? " Maya's voice remained level. Jennifer's smile faltered slightly. "You know, more practical, less academic.
Mr. Rodriguez stepped closer, his protective instincts flaring. The girl's doing fine work. Maybe mind your own business. Jennifer rolled her eyes and walked away, phone still streaming. Her viewer count had jumped to 2,000.
12:30 p. M. 5 hours and 30 minutes remaining. Lunch break brought no respite. Maya sat alone in the cafeteria picking at a sandwich while reviewing her notes.