Streets of Glass
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
North American (General) North American (US General American - GenAM)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Chapter one Los Angeles, California Thursday, nine o'clock AM Starry entered the 15 digit code to her private surveillance room. The door clicked open, and she slipped inside, eager to start her day. She loved this room and the power it gave her. Blowing on her mug of steaming black coffee, she sat down to face several rows of monitors, each one displaying various angles of a different key location of her father's Los Angeles drug syndicate. Warehouses, backrooms, parking lots, vehicle interiors, homes. One particular monitor caught her attention. It covered the home of one of her father's lieutenants or his top eight, as he called them. The closest CCTV feed showed the exterior near a crosswalk on the corner. Every morning there was a student or two waiting to cross the street. Today, it was a teenage girl in her school uniform, pristine and perfect. Starry settled into her chair and watched the girl, wondering what life was like for someone like that. She looked 18 stories age, but everything about her seemed innocent and unremarkable. Normal, as the rest of the world might describe. Her story could hardly remember her own time in school when she'd been a part of that normal world. All of that had changed when she turned eight, and her father had told her what he really did for a living and then started training her to work beside him. He pulled her out of school at that point and given her private tutors for basic education and the other skills she'd need to run the syndicate one day. How's the new program coming? A voice rang out from her speakers. It was her father, Glen Ramsey, the most influential formidable drug lord in Los Angeles. That was what all the law enforcement agencies called him anyway. People made things sound so sensational, Starry laughed under her breath as she transferred her dad's office video feed to her main monitor. Right now, that influential, formidable drug lord was sitting at his desk eating a bowl of cereal. He was down the hall from story, but it was easier to get work done without talking in person should see him at lunch anyway. Why are you eating cornflakes? She asked as he shoveled a spoonful into his mouth and typed something into his laptop with one hand. Didn't Maria make you breakfast? I was in a hurry. This was faster, he grumbled. Answer my question. How's the program coming? I'll iron out the last of the bugs today. He took another bite of cereal. Keep the cost low. I know it's something we need, but Louise keep showing me numbers, and they're not ideal. She sat down her mug a little too hard, splashing coffee onto her desk. Didn't he show you my reports? She asked, wiping up the spill with her thumb. I've run the numbers myself. This program will save you two billion a year. It costs a lot now, but it'll pay for itself in three months sooner if we roll it out to the East Coast. To her dad smiled up at the camera on his ceiling, and she smiled back, even though he couldn't see her. What would I do without you? He asked. Story picked up her coffee again. You die of a broken heart. There was a long pause, and starry watched her dad shuffles and papers on his desk. A few slipped off the edge, fluttering to the floor. He swore and leaned down to grab them. You're right. I probably would started cringed. She hadn't meant to fluster him. But any time she ever mentioned something that might make him think about how lonely he'd be without her, like how lonely he'd been when he lost her mother so long ago, he got clumsy. She couldn't blame him. She was his only blood family, and he hers. She didn't like to think about how her life would be without him, either. It was lonely enough with just the two of them. Come on, Dad, she said cheerfully, eager to steer him back with a smile. You know I'm not going anywhere. Why would I? He flashed her a brief, genuine smile. Let's get back to work, honey. I'll see you in a few hours. Sounds good. She pushed aside her coffee. Enough stalling. She had too much work to dio switching off the office feed. She began her review of the previous evening's activities a few hours slipping by before an alert blinking on her screen stopped her cold, Suspicious communication found. She clicked the alert, and it took her to a string of emails, texts and audio recordings. Monitoring her father's top eight was a full time job and letting the software she designed herself to some of the Labour East. Her workload. It still had bugs, but today it was working fine. The suspicious communication it had flagged belonged to two of the top eight. Andrews and Chavez. Why those two?