Page 36 of Bound By Stars
“This is a good start.” Calypso hands the book back. “They’ll want a digital version with labeled parts. Inside and out.”
“No problem. I’ll get the base ready while Weslie works on programming.”
“Good.” They turn to Weslie. “Keep in mind you’ll have to be ready to present this yourself. It will be much more in-depth than the judges’ panel, so be ready to answer any possible questions.”
“I’ll get it down by the time we arrive.” She sounds less sure of herself.
“Great. To keep you on track, I want to see a mock presentation when we hit the midpoint of our trip in”—they glance at their comm—“twelve days. That will give you plenty of time to consider my feedback and iron out any rough patches.”
Wes nods again, but all the false pleasantness falls from her face the second Calypso turns away.
“You’re on the right track. I’ll check back in soon!” they call through the closing door.
Weslie heaves out a breath, slumps in her seat, and groans.
“Don’t worry, I’ve spent an absurd amount of time in public relations and speech tutoring sessions over the past two years. I can help write the presentation, too.”
She looks up like she forgot I was here.
“So you gonna let me sit with you now or should I…” I point across the room.
She shoves her laptop into her bag and marches past me without a word. But she didn’t insult me directly this time. That’s progress.
Chapter Sixteen
Weslie
Twenty-seven days to Mars
Jupiter hasn’t said a word since he came into the library and perched on the table next to mine. If he hadn’t waved on his way in and flashed his stupid dimples, I might believe this was a coincidence. Asha probably told him where to find me again.
“Quiet mode. Play message…”
ILSA speaks at her lowest volume, dragging out letters that devolve into obscure noises. They sound nothing like words. If anything, she’s getting worse. And I can’t find a damn thing wrong with her.
“Stop.” I melt into my chair and lace my fingers into my hair, holding my head. Another day of wasted work. I’ve been over this code so many times I could practically recite it.
Jupiter holds up the stylus, squinting over his thumb, marking the width of ILSA’s head with his index finger, and comparing it to the drawing. “Do you have her exact measurements?” His eyes rapidly dart from the screen to ILSA until he catches my glare. “Never mind.”
I sigh, rolling my eyes. “Let me see.” Heaving myself up, I move to his table and glance over his shoulder.
He scoots to make room for me to sit, but I stay on my feet. Better to keep myself grounded. I can’t afford to be pulled into his orbit. Bad enough that I’m talking to him again. I can feel my hardened resolve defrost a little more every time he opens his mouth. And I’m still not convinced this whole nice thing isn’t an act.
“Her face screen is a little more rounded.” I lean in to point to the area.
“Like this?” He smooths out the edges and turns his face toward mine, grinning like an idiot.
We are way too close. I take a step back.
“Yeah…and her arms are a little shorter. They extend in demo mode, but in her standard posture they only fall to about here.” I reach over awkwardly, keeping the maximum amount of distance between us.
“Thanks.” He marks the areas. “Anything else?”
“No. It’s pretty good.” I head back around the table to my seat, massaging my right temple and reevaluating what I could be missing. If it’s not ILSA’s code that’s causing the issue, then it must be a hardware problem. Only that doesn’t make sense, either, since the rest of her speech is perfectly, sometimes painfully, clear.
“If you’re up for a break from the programming, we could work on the interior plans next time.”
“Sure.” I stare out the window. It must be in the code.
