Chapter 6 - The Flight to Austin
The digital clock on the dashboard of the rental car glowed red: *4:15 AM*.
Kenneth gripped the steering wheel of the mid-size sedan with white knuckles, his eyes locked onto the endless ribbon of highway stretching out ahead of them through the dark Texas night. Beside him in the passenger seat, Joanne slept fitfully, her head resting against the cold window glass. In the back seat, Tyler stared blankly out the window, lost in a sullen, bitter silence that had lasted the entire eight-hundred-mile drive from Indiana.
They had finally broken down. Pride, stubbornness, and seventy years of inflated ego had all evaporated under the harsh reality of an impending eviction notice and a bank account containing exactly $312.45.
They were driving straight to the heart of the beast: Austin, Texas.
Meridian AI’s corporate headquarters occupied the top three floors of a sleek, glass-and-steel skyscraper in downtown Austin. According to the business registry search Kenneth had frantically performed on his phone at a rest stop in Arkansas, Lucia was expected to be at her office today to oversee the year-end algorithmic audit before the New Year holiday.
"Ken," Joanne murmured, stirring awake as the car hit a rumble strip on the interstate. "Where are we?"
"Texas," Kenneth said gruffly, his throat dry from hours of chain-drinking cheap gas station coffee. "We're about forty minutes outside of Austin."
Joanne sat up, rubbing her eyes and smoothing her wrinkled blouse. "Do you think she'll see us? What if security doesn't let us into the building?"
"She'll see us," Kenneth muttered, though he didn't sound entirely convinced. "She's our daughter. No matter how mad she is, family is family."
Tyler scoffed from the back seat. "Yeah, tell that to Brooke. Family doesn't mean a damn thing when you're broke, Pop. You should know that better than anyone."
Kenneth didn't answer his son. He couldn't. Because deep down, Tyler was right. He had spent his entire life treating people—including his own children—like transactional assets. You were valuable if you brought home the right grades, if you ran the business the right way, if you fit the mold he had cast for you. If you didn't, you were discarded.
And now, the tables had been turned with mathematical precision.
By 8:30 AM, the rental car was parked in the subterranean garage of the Meridian AI tower. The contrast between Hartwell, Indiana, and downtown Austin felt like traveling to another planet. Everywhere Kenneth looked, young, energetic professionals in tailored suits walked with purpose, holding customized coffee cups and tapping away on high-end devices.
The Brennan family stepped out of the elevator into the ground-floor lobby, looking noticeably out of place. Kenneth wore his Sunday suit—the same one he had worn to church and funerals, now looking slightly rumpled from the long drive. Joanne looked exhausted, and Tyler looked like a sulking teenager dragged to a parent-teacher conference.
They approached the sleek marble security desk. Behind it sat a sharp-eyed security guard in a dark uniform, flanked by two digital turnstiles that required biometric authorization to pass.
"Good morning," Kenneth said, puffing out his chest out of sheer habit, trying to summon a shred of his former authority. "Kenneth Brennan. I'm here to see Lucia Brennan. I'm her father."
The security guard looked Kenneth up and down with polite, practiced indifference. He didn't blink.
"Do you have an appointment, Mr. Brennan?" the guard asked, his fingers resting casually on a console.
"An appointment?" Kenneth scoffed. "I’m her father! I don't need an appointment to see my own daughter!"
"Everyone needs an appointment to access the executive suites, sir," the guard replied evenly. "Ms. Brennan’s schedule is strictly managed. Let me check the visitor log."
He tapped a few keys on his terminal. A small screen flashed green, then blinked a soft, warning amber.
The guard’s expression shifted slightly. He looked up from the screen, his eyes narrowing just a fraction as he regarded Kenneth with renewed interest.
"Ah. Kenneth Brennan," the guard said, his voice dropping slightly. "Property of Hartwell, Indiana. Revocation order active. Let me notify executive suites."
Kenneth felt a cold knot form in his stomach. "Revocation order?"
The guard picked up his desk phone, spoke quietly into the receiver for ten seconds, and hung up. He looked back at Kenneth with a neutral, professional mask.
"You're in luck, Mr. Brennan. Ms. Brennan is currently reviewing reports on the penthouse level. She said she will give you exactly ten minutes."
The security gate buzzed, swinging open with a sharp click.
May you like
Kenneth swallowed hard, exchanging a nervous glance with Joanne and Tyler. They stepped through the turnstile and walked toward the private elevator, stepping into a glass cage that would take them straight up to the mind that had dismantled their entire world.
***
