Just thinking about the Athena project makes me feel like I’m going to have a heart attack. I’d worked on that for a decade, my own unpaid personal time, labored over it, my passion. I tried to get extra funding, an assistant, they turned me down every time. Then some executive copies my plan, literally photocopies all of my work, and presents it. He has praise and admiration heaped on him, his own division. I complain, they accuse me of being bitter, and move me down to the archives, a damn prison for paper, dead media that not even the archivist cares about. I’m about as important to them as last year’s inventory of office supplies. Andrews. That’s the executive. He stole my life from me. And now he will pay.