The Unexpected
Copyright© 2025 by Technocracy
Chapter 16
Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 16 - "If you do not expect the unexpected, you will not find it; for it is hard to be sought out, and difficult." -- Heraclitus of Ephesus
Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Heterosexual Fiction Violence
Needham, Ma -- 5:55 PM, 18 October 2005
Benny turned off the street to lead Henry and Marissa Mayer down the alley, stopping at the back door to the bakery to talk to Juan, continuing down the alley to pause at the back door of Leon’s barbershop to wave inside, then dismounting his bike and unlocking the rear entrance, leading Mayer into the store’s storage area.
“Leave the bikes in here, Ms Mayer.”
Marissa Mayer chastised herself, realizing the literalness of Benson Harrison, upon entering ‘The Store’.
“This is ‘The Store’?”
Benny was confused by the self-evident question.
“Uh ... Yes ... Hey, there lovely ladies. Lizzy, got someone here that would like talk. This is...”
Lizzy jumped up from her station at the checkout counter, in immediate recognition, exclaiming Mayer’s name, in a loud proclamation. The two customers at the counter jumped, almost in startled unison, with Lizzy’s outcry.
“Marisa Mayer!”
“You know her?”
“Everybody knows who she is.”
Andrea and Benny exchanged shrugs as he introduced Marissa Mayer to Lizzy.
“You can go talk to her about all of that code you wrote for the activity-tracking on the Goldman Sachs machines. I’ll run the checkout for these two ... How are you doing Mrs Henderson?...”
As Benny started to check out the first of two customers, Lizzy pulled her laptop computer from beneath the counter, leading Mayer to the table in front of the meat counter and display. Benny stayed behind the counter, receiving Andrea’s quiet query.
“Is she an important person in Computer Science, baby?”
“She is one of the first 15 or 20 Google employees, and runs some important internal projects. Very intelligent, but does not appear to understand the nature of people at a societal level.”
“She wants to talk to Lizzy? Why?”
“Yes, very much so. Mayer was impressed by the way Lizzy built stuff to search and parse and collate the logs that enabled us to find the connections between Google, Goldmans, and the government. Our little girl is now a grown computer scientist, Andy.”
Andrea pulled Benny in for a short make-out session, thinking they would go unnoticed behind the counter and the row of stacked canned goods. When Miguel came in to start his shift, he made noise to announce his arrival, enabling Andrea and Benny to disentangle.
“How is school, Mickey?”
“Hola, man. Hey, Andrea. School is okay ... Who’s that with Lizzy?”
“A senior manager from Google.”
“No kidding? Cool. Bet ya Lizzy is kicking her butt. She always complains about Google search.”
Benny started to answer, but Andrea cut him off, leaving Miguel to run the store.
“You have the store, Mickey.”
Andrea took Benny’s hand, leading him to the stairs to their apartment. As they climbed the stairs, Benny’s conversation with Andrea abruptly ended when he noticed that she was unbuttoning once per step. He knew that there were more steps than buttons on her blouse, which raised the obvious question.
The question was answered when, with all buttons undone, Andrea removed her shirt, then handed it to Benny. Ascending the next step, Andrea removed her bra, also handing it to Benny. Andrea took the last three steps in rapid succession, stopping at the landing to unzip and drop her dress, exposing her fully womanly body to the cool autumn air. Benny picked up her dress, opened the apartment door, and pushed her inside with a firm grip on her left butt cheek.
Miguel was sweeping between the meat counter and the table, talking with Marissa Mayer and Lizzy, when Benny and Andrea returned to the store. Lizzy commented as she exchanged smirks with Miguel.
“Think they got it out of their systems for a while?”
“Maybe ... like you said, Liz, ‘for a while’.”
Miguel finished sweeping, then pointed to the checkout counter as he address Andrea.
“I signed for several boxes of bags. They’re underneath the checkout.”
“Thank you, Mickey ... Lizzy? How long will you be here, sweety?”
“A few more hours, mom. Got a TA advisory meeting at seven-thirty tonight, so I’ll spend the night at school ... So how did your latest trading run go, Benny? Or did Harry choke and hit the switch?”
Marissa Mayer observed the casual conversations with fascination. She had no reference points for blue-collar family life. What she did not understand was this was not a blue-collar family, and had not been for several years.
“Harry was, generally, in agreement with the circuit design. As usual, Harry complained about my code.”
“Yeah? So ... guess that means I’m gonna have to write another interface? You still owe me pizza and beer from the last job ... And you still haven’t fixed the punch bag. You broke it, you fix it; it’s been broken for two days ... Mom wearing you out?”
Benny released a short snort of a laugh, quickly suppressing it when Andrea looked his way. But her wrath was directed towards her daughter.
“Cuidado com o que diz!, Isabelle.”
Benny took a strategic change in topics.
“Marissa, what do you think of Lizzy’s stuff?”
“Impressive. To be honest, it quite resembles what I did a few years ago for the initial versions of Google’s ad-word generator. I have asked her to talk to me after grad school.”
Andrea was torn at the thought of ‘losing’ her child.
“I wouldn’t want my girl going to the west coast. Much too far ... I don’t think...”
“Not an issue, Mrs Paucho. We have our east-coast center in New York.”
Lizzy beamed at the thought of living in the big city, while her mother scowled at the thought. Again, Benny strategically chose a change of topic.
“What is the agenda for tomorrow, and when will you bring your CEO to SIG, Marissa?”
“Nothing for tomorrow, except the Google personnel team will meet with Doris Sotherly and Brian O’Mulriain. I will brief Eric tomorrow evening after I pick him up. What time would be good for the following day?”
“I typically start between seven and eight AM. Harry is there between eight and nine.”
“I will be at SIG at nine.”
“If you are staying at the airport Hilton, you had better leave before eight. What are you doing for dinner? I know of a few decent places around here.”
Andrea countered her mate’s suggestion.
“Why don’t we stay home, love? I was going to make make chourico stew.”
Lizzy looked to be supremely disappointed.
“Really, mom? The night I have to be at school? Damn, my timing always sucks.”
“Language, dear ... And why don’t we invite Henry; that poor man is so alone.”
Lizzy rolled her eyes at her mother’s Catholicism-fueled disdain for coarse language. Benny shrugged at Andrea’s perception of Henry’s plight, as he well knew that the man was enjoying being free of his ex and preferred quiet evenings alone.
“Doubt that he would be free tonight. Mickey, would you like to join us for dinner?”
“Mucho for the invite, Benny. But Jose and me are going out with Leon.”
The dinner arrangements halted when a police sergeant from the Needhams department entered the store.
“Evening Mrs Paucho. Doctor Harrison, would it be possible to have twenty or thirty minutes of your time tomorrow?”
“What is the issue, Sergeant Blakely?”
“It’s the communications systems, sir. We have received additional requirements from the council, but we have no budget for calling in Harris to re-program either system.”
Benny sighed, thinking that Doris had put the cop up to it, thus getting to the point.
“How much, sergeant?”
“Uh ... don’t know sir.”
“They did not provide a quote?”
“Uh ... well we didn’t exactly ask for a quote, sir. We don’t like the idea of the feds providing funds and allowing Harris to get into our comm systems. We were hoping that yourself or one of your engineers could do it. The Chief and the Mayor would like to keep this local.”
Andrea leaned into Benny, pressing the fullness of her breasts into his side. Benny new why Andrea did this, and again, Andrea knew that Benny knew. But it had never failed to get his rapt attention.
“Baby, give him thirty minutes tomorrow morning. Could Mike Frothers could help you with it?”
“Probably ... okay, sergeant. Give Doris Sotherly a call early tomorrow. And bring your tech that runs the authentication server.”
To the embarrassment of all, except Lizzy, Andrea pulled Benny down for a wet kiss before bounding upstairs to prepare dinner. Lizzy added her typical sarcasm.
“Officer, arrest those two people for violating health code.”
Marissa Mayer, while amused, was uncertain of this unusual combination of people that her employer had bought into. Mayer would spend the remainder of the evening, both in enjoyment of the company of, and in concernment of their eccentric generosity. These were real people; they would never be Silicon Valley ‘tech-bros’.
SIG, Needham, Ma -- 10:15 AM 19 October 2005
Doris stood at the conference room’s south whiteboard, writing salient points of the discussion. It was obvious that the cop and his tech were disturbed at the unusual group and the indeterminate hierarchy.
“Whatsyourname, go get Henry ... Did you hear me?”
The young woman was, again, aghast at Benny’s poor social acumen and disrespect.
“Doctor Harrison, I am...”
The woman paused, then choked out her name.
“ ... my name is Cindy.”
“Okay, ‘Mynameiscindy, please get Henry van Dooren.”
Cindy Havershime stomped out of the conference room to find Henry, all the while fuming in humiliation per the self-inflicted continuation of the ‘mynameis’ moniker
“Benson Harrison! That does it. Today, before you go home, You and Harry will sit down with the employee roster and memorize names.”
Neither the cop, or his tech, were able to grasp the gestalt of this company. Neither could understand why the two principles were under the thumb of their HR manager.
Henry entered the conference room, thinking the local police were on-site looking for, yet another, hand-out. But he had no idea why he was being called in to listen to their spiel.
“Hey, Benny. What’s up?”
“Henry, please sit down. I want you to listen to this. Tell me what you think. Don’t worry about any associated legal stuff - I have Robert on an open phone. Robert, please let Henry know the delimiters before we discuss this further. Oh, and MynameisCindy, please blank out Harry’s and my schedule for the remainder of today.”
Cindy Havershime gave the situation further thought. She considered Benny’s appellation a marked improvement over ‘whatshername’. Cindy quickly brought up Benny’s schedule on her laptop computer.
You have a one-thirty with the Mouser representative, Doctor Harrison. And you have...”
“Re-schedule it.”
“Yes, sir. And you have the Allied and Digikey reps at two and two thirty, respectively.”
“What for?”
“Brian said that the P&C accounts must now go through Google, so we...”
“I understand ... Mike, I want you and Brian to handle our suppliers and run the AVL now that you will have to do everything through Google. Also, get familiar with Google’s AQL and component sampling standards.”
“Not a problem, Benny. I’ll get on it.”
Benny scanned the conference room, realizing he had no idea as to the original purpose of this particular gaggle of people.
“Where the heck were we?”
Henry smiled, knowing that Benny was slowly learning to implement, and realize, a prime aspect of leadership - delegation. As such, Robert Northrup piped up over the phone loud speaker.
“We were about to explain to Henry about the local fire and police communications systems.”
“I was? ... Uh, of course. Henry, here lies the dragons. The local cop-shop and fire-fighters don’t want to allow any externals into their systems. They want us to run configuration management. I am thinking about Mike running that show. As I said, herein lies the dragons. Physical security. There will be co-located servers. Robert says that the Justice Department has published guidelines for that stuff. Are you aware of this?”
“I am, but there are legal and qualification issues for those that have access. Robert, did you inform Benny about BIs and other such?”
“I did. My team, all having active clearances, would meet such requirements.”
“Excellent. Can you add Level Two systems security to your list of tasks?”
“Short term, that’s affirm, we can do Level Two. Long term, negative. And if the state or feds get into the picture, then we would have to provide 24/7 security. Obviously not possible with three people.”
Robert’s harumph was heard over the phone speaker.
“Theoretically, not an issue. As that is the city of Needham’s objective - no external control of their systems. And as the 911 call center is on a separate system, we could avoid allowing the state into Needham’s systems.”
Henry nodded his head in agreement. Henry van Dooren did not shy away from a subject that he knew could greatly perturb Benny.
“Then we can do it, but, and its a big but, we need one or two more people on my team; and they would have to be more than just bag men.”
Robert Northrup voiced over the speaker phone.
“So we have a significant long-term financial impact to the company, with with no corresponding ROI.”
Benny scowled, remembering how Doris had dragged SIG into being a ‘good corporate citizen’. He seriously considered, for a few seconds, walking away from running a business and seeking a simplistic life path that would allow him to mindlessly fritter away his accumulated wealth. His fantasy was interrupted by the cop.
“Doctor Harrison, I am not certain of the exact conditions and terms, but there is a provision in Massachusetts tax code that provides an offset to your profits for tax purposes.”
Benny brightened at the chance of a significant tax reduction that did not rely on loop-holes.
“Robert? Do you know about this?”
“I have read it, but am not familiar with the details.”
“What is the bottom-line?”
“It could zero out state taxes and local facility tax and annual fees. But the city comptroller would have to issue a detailed invoices of services and materials for each quarterly tax statement.”
Benny nodded his head in agreement. He rapidly formulated a To-do list for the troops.
“Please look into that, Robert ... Sergeant Blakeley, I want to see a formal statement from the city of Needham on the particular elements of any tax relief per their service expectations. Robert, send Brian and Doris, and ‘cc’ myself, an outline of how to do this without incurring the wrath of the tax goddess. Henry, find me another person for your team, and write me a draft for security and an operational protocol for this proposed comm center; you will need to get with Mike on the latter ... On further analysis, perhaps you should find not one, but two more people for your team. They must be as capable and agreeable as Michelle and Brandon. Mike, take the lead on parts procurement and set up. We need schematics and plans to build an independent stack in Dungeon E, with a separate UPS, line iso, the works. Mynameiscindy, put Nancy and Brian in on today’s afternoon meetings, and order a new coffee machine ... Harry, you have yet to say anything.”
“I’m disappointed in ya, my friend. Sorta miss the good ol’ bitter and miserly Benny. Did transporter Chief Miles O’Brien beam me into a parallel universe?”
Harry Spoons received a sharp pinch on his shoulder from Doris, for his singular input to the meeting.
Benny ended his participation in the meeting.
“Sergeant, if you have further concerns or requests, please use this opportunity to discuss such matters with my people. Good day.”
Benny departed the conference room, to the back door, and out into the rear parking area, seeking the counsel of the one person he trusted the most. He stopped in between parked vehicles to pull out his cell phone.
“ ... sometimes it’s too much, Andy. All I wanted to do was make the best low-noise high-speed sequencers in the world. That is all I am, just an engineer. I never wanted to make millions. Harry and me should not be running this company.”
“Do you trust Brian O’Mulriain?”
“I have no reason to not do so.”
“Then he is your man. Make him a president, or some sort of chief executive. Talk to Doris and Robert about it. Make Google see it.”
“What about Doris? Could she run this mess?”
“No, baby. I love Dory, but she is ill-suited for the job. You already know that, and she knows that.”
“What if Brian does not want to take the job?”
“He will. He respects you. He may not be insanely smart like you and Harry, but he understands business and he understands people.”
“How should I ask him?”
“Don’t. Not yet. You need to sit down with Robert and Harry and Doris. But first, you need to talk with Matthew Goldstein.”
“You are a dangerous woman, Andrea Paucho.”
“I am?”
“Yes. Very intelligent and beautiful; more-so, that, in extremis, I will desire you. Truly a deadly combination. Are there many Portuguese women such as yourself? It is what this maniacal world needs.”
“Oh, Benny. Preciso te beijar!”
“Me also. Thanks for the ideas, Andy. See you later.”
“Amo-te.”
SIG, Needham, Ma -- 9:10 AM 20 October 2005
Eric Schmidt paced along the west edge of the long conference room table. Benny stood at the head of the table observing the Google CEO with a raised eyebrow, while Harry, Henry, Brian, and Robert sat quietly and stoically. Marisa Mayer, with a subdued nervousness, followed her boss as he paced, waiting for his next question.
“ ... and she simply downloaded WordNet from Purdue?”
“That was just her starting point. She built a completely new lexical database. It was more than look-up tables and comparisons. She effectively re-invented the back-end to our ad-delivery system.”
Eric Schmidt momentarily stopped pacing to direct his next question at Benny.
“Doctor Harrison, who else is aware of the connective nature for these Goldman Sachs transactions?”
“The people in this room, and Isabelle Paucho.”
“Who has had contact with Colonel Stewart?”
Robert immediately stood to respond to the sensitive issues associated with the intel people.
“We will not discuss that, sir.”
“Why?”
“Any instance with Colonel Stewart is sensitive and subject to national security statute.”
“So you made a deal with Stewart? Did he get all of his disk controllers?”
All members of SIG froze at the question. In that instant, Benny and the others were hit with a flash of comprehension; the realization that SIG had been targeted, and that the intel community was attempting to keep a close watch on SIG; that is, Google was an insider and playing spy vs spy. Although Marissa Mayer had no understanding of the situation and was the only innocent in the room.
“Marissa, please leave the room.”
“Eric, what is going on?”
“Please, Marissa. Leave immediately. You would not want to be part of this discussion.”
Mayer glowered at her boss as she gathered her computer and brief case. Marissa Mayer turned to her boss, eyes big, and her ears becoming a burning red tinge that contrasted with her blonde complexion. She wondered if Eric Schmidt was not the person that Sergey had described. Leaving the conference room, her faith in the sincerity of the corporate ‘do no evil’ motto was diminished.
“All were returned, sir.”
“Did you do any analysis on them?”
“We did.”
“So you know about The Watchers?”
“I have heard that term, but we are not aware of the meaning, other than the literal sense of the term. It was my guess that it was a surveillance device for use by American intel.”
“I talked to Stewart last night. He is very interested, and concerned, about your enterprise, Doctor Harrison. And I would say that he is scared of what Doctor Spoons’ PhD thesis could represent.”
Harry spoke up in disbelief.
“Say what? You’ve been hanging around those James Bond types too much, sir. We’ve been running in the same high-frequency trading rodeo that has been going on for the last 10 or 15 years. The only difference is we do it with micro-second level precision and accuracy.”
“There is no trend that you and these systems has failed to predict during the preceding five years. Stewart’s concern is that the system could be used to crash markets at will. Or manipulate bond auctions, which is critical to our national debt structuring, or manipulate currency exchange rates.”
Harry was getting riled by the Google CEO’s implications. His statement was delivered with a slightly exaggerated and graveled south Texas drawl.
“Sure ain’t gonna be us injuns, kemosabe. We’re small potatoes. We ain’t big enough to wag the doggy. Ain’t none of this matters in the long term. The cat’s been outa the bag for a while. Sooner or later, them big market-makers are gonna figure it all out. What ya gonna do then, Mister big executive? So in the meantime, why don’t you just sit back and let us make your googly execs a boat-load of dinero. Or is that not the reason you bought us from Goldmans? Maybe you’re just another James Bond-wannabe spy, and buying us gets you a ticket to play in the big-time NSA playground.”
“That is a foolish supposition, Doctor Spoons.”
Harry Spoons sneered at Eric Schmidt.
“Foolish? Mister Schmidt, I’m gonna guess that you’re a few screws short of a hardware store. This stuff ain’t rocket science. It’s a well-defined engineering problem. Think about it, we have a part-time twenty-year old grad student that, per Ms Mayer, re-invented the recipe to the secret sauce for your search engine and ad-generator interface. The kid did that over a weekend. With that in mind, think about this. There’s some really smart people reading our research papers. Maybe in five minutes, maybe in five years, you’re gonna see the trading world adapt our methods for trade synchronization and trend timing. You’d better back your bus up and re-calibrate your get-along, Schmidt. If ya know what’s good for ya.”
As the Google CEO returned to his chair, his body language indicated that he had conceded argumentive defeat. Henry and Brian wanted to stand up and clap at Harry’s red-neck soliloquy. Robert was uncertain if they were poking at the tiger cage. Robert desired to re-open the discussion.
“Benny, we need to get back on the points of the matter at hand.”
Benny, seeing the fait accompli of Harry’s well-stated point, made the unilateral ‘command’ decision to resume the discussion per the matters of integrating SIG into Google. Benny strode, almost strutted, past Schmidt to throw open the double doors to the conference room, finding Marissa Mayer using the unassigned office across the hall, madly typing into her laptop computer, while others milled about in subdued conversation.
“Ms Mayer, please return to the conference room, and invite the others to return.”
As Benny returned to the conference table, he addressed the CEO.
“Mister Schmidt, without you admitting, overtly, in any discussion, SIG will assume that your company has a ‘unique’ relationship with the federal government, thus can offer certain protections from federal interventions and prevent further intrusive and unnecessary over-sight.”
“That assumption is correct.”
“Excellent. It is our intent to remain an independent and private incorporation. Hence, the assets and personnel that will manage your investment division, must have a clear and legally-defensible separation. Our expectations are that Google will structure and implement the SIG integration in such a way that we are legally exempt from quarterly reports to the SEC.”
“That shall be arranged. But the existing Goldman/SIG contractual terms of 200% return will not change. I will apprise my counsel of such. I will arrange Doctors Harrison and Spoons to come aboard at the Director level.”
Benny and Harry exchanged a smug look. When Harry nodded to Benny, Harry instructed the Google executive otherwise, reverting to his ‘business voice’.
“Negative, sir. Let’s set that aside. Benny and myself will forgo salaries from, and any such formal appointments as Google employees. I would strongly recommend that Brian O’Mulriain be appointed to a director-level position, and you may consider SIG technical people to come aboard as senior ICs.
Schmidt noted that Harry’s Texas drawl had been significantly reduced.
“Interesting. What would be yours and Doctor Harrison’s relationship with Google?”
Benny took up the reply when Harry did not immediately respond.
“Independent technical advisors. Robert Northrup would provide a serial submission of short-term contracts. No salary. We each receive one percent of the gross that exceeds the 200 percent target, and five percent of the gross that exceeds 300 percent of the target, payable each quarter. The contract’s reporting officer shall be Ms Mayer or yourself. No others would be acceptable. Finally, the existing and future REIT registrations belong to SIG. Google shall transfer, any remaining shares outstanding, to SIG within three work days of signing the final agreement.”
Eric Schmidt was uncertain of certainty of these young academics. His business sense told him to take the terms, as they would be the ones with the most to lose if they did not meet performance levels.
“In principal, I agree to the stated terms. I will have my lead counsel draft these terms of the agreement tomorrow.”
“Do not bother to do so, sir. Robert has seven sets of contractual terms for your review. Robert, please give Mister Schmidt the files.”
Robert Northrup shook his head, almost in disbelief, that the audacity of Benny and Harry had worked. He had worked on the documents, non-stop, for almost two days, thinking it a fool’s errand. Once again, Benson Harrison had provided an unexpected result.
Eric Schmidt looked to his prized technical manager, the woman directly responsible for billions of dollars in business volume.
“Marissa, you will complete the integration for this acquisition. The technical details of the acquired Goldman Sachs systems are up to yourself and Spoons and Harrison. You want to run this circus and make me lots of money?”
Marissa Mayer was much more than the typical Google engineering manager. She was a motivated business person that loved to win. She did not lean into the oppurtunity, she leapt at the opportunity.
SIG, Needham, Ma -- 0640 AM, 21 November 2005
As Benny and Henry turned into the parking lot, both men looked to the east and west horizons.
“Looks like we beat the rain. Who belongs to that new Tundra?”
“Mike Frother. He bought it with his Google signing bonus.”
“Good looking machine. Has he been here all weekend?”
“That’s what Michelle said.”
“Makes sense. Received a message from him Sunday. He said the police and fire radios would be done by Monday. Who is that?”
Benny pointed to a well-beaten Toyota Tercel entering the SIG parking lot, then pulling up near the unused bicycle rack.
“New technician. Started last Tuesday. She’s a former army avionics tech.”
“One of your old army friends doing employee recruitment for Doris?”
“Found her through Brandon. She was in the 160th. She’s been working with Mike.”
Benny had no idea what military unit was being said, and he did not care. He assumed she was part of that special network of soldiers that had served in the rangers or other such special units.
The thirty-something woman went bug-eyed seeing both the colonel and the Big Cheese entering the building at zero-dark thirty.
“Good morning, colonel. Good morning, Doctor Harrison.”
“You working with Mike? Which lab?”
“Yes, sir. The proto lab.”
“I am not a ‘sir’. My name is Benny. What is your name.”
“Yes, sir. My name is Angie.”
“Which project?”
“The new mux. It’s an incredible design concept.”
“Interesting accent. Where are you from?”
“Jamaica.”
“It’s starting to come down, Benny. Let’s get our bikes inside, or Andrea will have my butt if you get sick again.”
“Why is everyone in fear of Andy? She is the most gentle person I have known.”
Henry laughed in lieu of any response, pushing the tech and Benny inside as the dark sky precipitated a light mist. The new employee was left to cogitate over the strange dynamic witnessed between the security chief and the Big Cheese.
Harry tapped lightly on the door-frame to Benny’s office, after standing there without acknowledgment.
“Morning, Benny. There’s a fresh pot in the sim lab.”
Benny looked up with a thousand-yard stare, his mind still absorbed in the numerics of the current trading run that flowed across his right-hand screen, while the results of an in-progress PSpice circuit simulation flowed down his left side screen.
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