Chapter 1: Intro & Her First Customer

Dr. Elizabeth Collins stepped up to the podium in the lecture hall. She was the Dean of Philosophy and Ethics at the University. Dressed in tan slacks, a white blouse, a blue blazer, and with her blonde bob haircut, the students saw the embodiment of what one would expect from a lecturer on the topic of ethics and morality in everyday life.

This was one of her favorite topics, which was the philosophy of Kant. She firmly believed that this philosophy in particular was more relevant in today’s chaotic world than ever before.

She saw the eager looks on the faces of the students who were there to learn from one of the most well-known and respected people in academia on the topic of ethics and morality. She felt a warm satisfaction that she was guiding the next generation.

With a clear voice she started her lecture. “Good morning everyone. I’m happy to see you all here today. I’m not here to tell you what to think or how to act. I’m just the messenger. That message has two fundamental parts. The first part is that we should reflect on how we conduct ourselves and how our actions affect other people. The second part is why? Why should we even care about part 1?”

Pressing the clicker, she went to the next slide in her presentation. “This is very simple. Kant presents us with what he called the Categorical Imperative. That sounds like a very academic phrase. So what the heck does that mean?”

She went to the next slide. “It’s more than academic. It’s a concept that we can use in our everyday lives. Kant teaches us that morality should be based on what he called “universal principles” rather than emotion, tradition, or personal consequences.”

She went to the next slide with one bolded statement. “Simply put, Categorial Imperative is the notion that a person should act only according to rules they would want everyone else to follow universally.”

Elizabeth paused for a few seconds to let that sink in and then continued. “Moral actions come from duty and respect for rational moral law, not from personal gain or feelings. Kant argued that every human being possesses inherent dignity and must always be treated as such and not merely as a means to someone else’s goals.”

Elizabath’s goal was not just lecture but to engage and challenge the students.”

She went to the next slide and scanned the audience. “Said another way, morality is based on duty, not consequences. We all should act according to principles we would want everyone to follow. Don’t lie because lying, if universalized, would destroy trust. Morality is about our actions. Those actions are about duty and principle, not results.”

She clicked to go to the next slide with another one-line bolded statement. “The ends do not justify the means.”

She stepped away from the podium, getting closer to the student audience.

“Let’s make this real. Put away the textbooks and the presentations. For instance, you’re a software developer for a new social media app. You’ve discovered a loophole in the privacy settings that allows you to harvest user data such as emails, private messages, and locations and sell it to advertisers. It’s perfectly legal, a grey area the law hasn’t caught up to yet. No one will ever know. The profit is enormous.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “No problem, right?”

She motioned to the students. “What would you do? Your decisions may affect your career and your ability to support your family if the company stays in business. There are a boatload of consequences to your decision.”

She saw a nodding of heads in the audience.

She paced back and forth. “Kant asks you not to consider the consequences such as your career or the company’s success. Kant asks you to consider the maxim, the fundamental principle, the rules of conduct.”

Elizabeth then posed a question to the students. “Is it permissible to violate an individual’s privacy for my own gain when I can get away with it?

She raised her arms with palms up. “Now, universalize it. Imagine a world where everyone operates on that principle. A world where doctors sell your medical records, where your banker sells your financial history, where no personal information is safe. What becomes of trust? What becomes of society itself?”

A young woman in the front row raised her hand. “But Dr. Collins, that world is already happening. Isn’t Kant’s ideal just naive?”

Elizabeth smiled. “That’s an excellent question. You’re correct. In reality that is happening today. It’s important to remember that the ideals proposed by Kant are merely ideals. We have to live in the everyday world, and that world is far from perfect. The ideals are not the goal but a way to help guide us. Those ideals are what allow us to look at ourselves in the mirror and say, ‘I did not contribute to the decay. I upheld the principle, even when it was difficult, even when it cost me something.”

Elizabeth clicked to the final slide in her presentation. “We don’t use the concepts of ethics and morality to eliminate temptation but to help us when we are face to face with it.

Later that day Elizabeth was in a meeting with Deans of other university departments. The topic was a proposed partnership with a tech corporation that wanted to fund a new research lab.

Thomas Thorne, the Dean of Sciences, was making his case. “The funding from InnovateEd would be substantial. We’re talking about a ten-million-dollar endowment. This is a win-win situation.”

Elizabeth waited for him to finish before speaking. With a calm tone, she said, “I’ve read the proposal, Dean Thorne. I’ve read the fine print of InnovateEd’s user agreement. Our students and faculty would be required to sign this agreement to use the lab’s proprietary software. It includes a clause granting the company irrevocable rights to all research data generated within the facility. They own our intellectual property.”

Thorne waved his hands. “It’s standard boilerplate, Elizabeth. A necessary evil to secure the funding.”

Elizabeth countered. “An evil we are being asked to endorse. We would be asking our philosophy and ethics students to sign away their rights and our sociology and technology departments to surrender findings. It’s a direct violation of the very principles of academic freedom and integrity this institution was built on.”

Dean Alveraz, head of the Education department sighed. “The board is very keen on this, Elizabeth. It’s a lot of money to walk away from.”

Elizabeth got an edge to her voice. “Then we’re not a university anymore; we’re a subsidiary of global tech. We have a moral obligation to our students to set the example. We sell our principles for a pile of cash? Once we begin selling that principle, we can no longer claim to teach it.”

Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders. “This is a slow poison that will be impossible to recover from. I’m not going to support it and formally recommend that we reject this proposal.”

Dean Thorne spoke up. “It’s up to the Board of Directors. We all have input. My recommendation is that we need to adapt or become irrelevant. This is how it works in today’s world.”

For Elizabeth this was a very easy choice. It was not about adapting and withering away. In her world, right was right, and compromise was just a slow death.

The heavy oak door of the Collins home closed with a solid thud. This is where Dr. Elizabeth Collins could relax and unwind. The old Georgian Revival-style house had been passed down from her parents. It was filled with classic, comfortable furniture rather than cold museum pieces. There were no ostentatious displays of wealth, only quiet quality such as the soft glow of a Tiffany lamp, the deep luster of a mahogany bookshelf, and the well-worn comfort of a cream-colored sofa. It was a sanctuary of order and warmth.

The rich aroma of garlic and herbs met her in the foyer. “Mom, you’re just in time,” called a voice from the kitchen.

Elizabeth followed the sound to find her son, Anthony James Collins IV, at the stove. He was already in his second year at Harvard Law at the age of 20. He had his father’s height and lean body. He was currently concentrating on stirring a pot of sauce.

“Don’t tell me you’re making your ‘famous’ bolognese again,” Elizabeth said with a smile as she leaned against the doorframe.

Anthony shot back, “Hey, it’s famous in this house. “Someone has to cook while the Dean is busy saving the world from corporate sellouts.”

He tapped the side of his nose. “I heard about the InnovateEd meeting. You took on Thorne and the board, didn’t you? Good for you. They need someone with a spine.”

Elizabeth’s heart swelled with pride. “It’s about principle, Anthony. You know that.”

Anthony looked at his mother. “I do. It’s why I’m proud to tell people my mom is the Dean of Ethics. You actually walk the walk.”

From the living room, a voice piped up. “Mrs. Gable in my English class said you’re the smartest person she’s ever met.”

It was Donna, her seventeen-year-old daughter. She was curled up on the armchair with a textbook. With her light brown hair pulled back in a neat ponytail and her focused expression, she was almost a younger version of Elizabeth.

Elizabeth walked over and kissed the top of Donna’s head. “Mrs. Gable is very kind. And how is your own ethical dilemma going? The debate team preparation?”

Finishing up her junior year, she was already taking classes at MIT in computer science/

“It’s so frustrating! Our topic is on privacy versus security in a digital world. The other team is arguing that giving up some personal data is a fair trade for safety. They just don’t get that the principle is the point! Once you give up an inch of privacy, you’ve already lost the argument.”

She sighed dramatically. “It’s like they’ve never heard you talk about it, Mom.”

Elizabeth laughed. “Well, you can’t quote me in a debate, but you can certainly use the logic. Just remember to argue with your head, not just your heart.”

Turning back to her notes, Donna said, “I know, I know. Logical consistency and universal principles. I got it.”

Anthony brought three plates of pasta to the table, and the family settled into their comfortable routine. They talked about Anthony’s classes, Donna’s upcoming swim meet, and the book Elizabeth was reading. This was the life she had built from the ashes of her grief after her husband, Anthony James Collins III, had passed.

Elizabeth looked at her children and the warm, safe room around her. This was her reality.

For some reason. Elizabeth had been on edge the last week or so. The memory of a secret she had buried long ago had crept back into her mind.

The house was silent as Elizabeth was getting ready for bed. The house was silent. Anthony was out with friends, and Donna was asleep. Elizabeth stood in her spacious, walk-in closet, methodically hanging up her clothes. She was replaying the satisfying, principled stand she had taken that day. This was her. This was her life.

Her eyes caught her reflection in the full-length mirror on the closet door as she slid a hanger onto the brass rod. For a brief moment, she saw an image of herself from the past. She saw a woman with wild, disheveled hair, her face flushed and her body damp with sweat from passion, lust, and sex.

She thought about that image in her mind. It was four years ago just after her husband’s death. She was finally getting over the grief and fell into a trap of looking at how to make herself alive again.

Dominic Santoro. He wasn’t in her ethics class. He was a brilliant and cocky political science Ph.D. student. He had an intensity that was both thrilling and terrifying to Elizabeth at the time. He had hunger in his eyes. He had pursued her with confidence that chipped away at her defenses until she had agreed to coffee. And then to drinks. And then one evening, he went to his apartment.

The four months that followed were like a pornographic dream. It wasn’t about love or compassion. It was about pure lust and animalistic sex. She wasn’t Dr. Collins, the widow, the mother, or the Dean. She was a body that craved wanton, unabashed fucking, and he was the Alpha that did what Alphas do and took what was rightfully his regardless of the consequences of polite society.

She had done things she couldn’t even think about in the light of day. Wild, shameless things that contradicted every single principle she had ever professed. He had photographed her. He always had his phone near, capturing images of a woman she didn’t recognize. A woman arching her back, begging for more. She had the looks of raw passion on her face.

She had let him take photos and videos of a slut, a whore, a fucktoy used for his pleasure.

She had tried to forget everything about that ill-conceived fling. It was not romantic. It was about pure sex. She had always been very prudish, and she still was. She told herself it was because of recovering from the loss of her husband. Maybe it was a female midlife crisis. It could have been many factors, but it was not who she really was. It was an anomaly. That was something that she wished she had never done and had regretted at the time and, of course, afterward.

She had done things that she didn’t want or like to do. Dominic was a handsome younger man, which made her feel something, but she was not sure exactly what it was. He knew how to play on her weakness and took her down that path of depravity that she really did not enjoy, or so she told herself after. She never had enjoyed giving oral sex. She never thought of it as “sucking a cock.” Good girls don’t get semen spattered on their tits or dipping down their chin.

A cold knot formed in Elizabeth’s stomach. She gripped the edge of the closet door to steady herself. That wasn’t her. It was a madness brought on by grief. A profound moral failing she eventually walked away from. She had buried the secret so deep and convinced herself it was a closed chapter in a book that was hidden away where nobody could find it.

The office overlooking the river was all glass and steel. It was a monument to how business was done these days. Dominic Santoro stood by the floor-to-ceiling window with a tumbler of amber liquid in his hand. He was watching the afternoon sun glint off the water. He wasn’t looking at the view. He was assessing the assets. He saw money at work, seeing the buildings, the bridges, and the flow of traffic.

He wore a deep charcoal grey suit. At thirty-five years old, he had learned patience is more effective than brute force.

A man named Henderson spoke up. “Mr. Santoro, the preliminary numbers for ‘Aether Properties’ are solid. We’ve got three shell corporations registered in Delaware. We have our first acquisition, a derelict warehouse district on the south side ready to close. We’re projecting a twenty percent return inside eighteen months just on the property value alone.”