Chapter 5 - Running on Fumes
Jeff Chen
Camila was in heaven, stretched out on a massage table in the spa’s private suite. Jeff, meanwhile, slipped back to their bungalow, flipped open his laptop, and fired up Zoom. He told himself it was just a quick check-in — ten minutes tops. But deep down, he was bracing for a disaster.
Rina appeared on screen, hair pulled into a messy bun, headset slightly crooked. Behind her, he could see the Omni bullpen alive with movement.
“Jeff,” she said, a little surprised. “I didn’t expect to see you.”
“Yeah, well…” He forced a grin. “Figured I’d swoop in before things completely went off the rails.”
Rina blinked, then smirked. “Relax. It’s fine. We had a hiccup earlier, but we handled it.”
Jeff leaned forward. “Define hiccup.”
“Two, actually,” she said, counting on her fingers. “First, the model started spitting inconsistent outputs when we scaled testing. It looked like hallucinations — numbers that didn’t reconcile. Ewen nearly lost it. But we tracked it to a bad data pipeline and fixed the feed.”
Jeff’s pulse kicked up. “And the second?”
“The compliance module flagged half the test cases as non-compliant,” she continued. “Total red alert moment. Ewen was already drafting emails to the board. But Max and I sat down, rewrote the validation logic, and pushed a hotfix. Everything’s green now.”
Jeff exhaled, tension bleeding out of him. “So… Ewen didn’t kill anyone?”
“Not even close. Actually, he cracked a joke after. Said, ‘Good news — the auditors can’t audit hallucinations.’ Everyone laughed.” She tilted her head. “Even him.”
Jeff chuckled despite himself. The pit in his stomach finally loosened. “Okay. Okay, that’s good. Do you want me to dial in tomorrow? Sit in on the stand-ups?”
Rina shook her head. “No. Enjoy your vacation, Jeff. Seriously. We’ve got it covered.”
For the first time all week, Jeff believed her. “Thanks, Rina. Really.”
When he hung up, he sat back and let the relief wash over him. The world wasn’t falling apart. Omni wasn’t falling apart. He could breathe. He could actually enjoy paradise.
When his plane touched down in San Francisco days later, he should have been wrecked from the jet lag. Instead, he was wired, energized, almost giddy to be back. The Maldives had done him good, cleared the fog. He bounded into the office, grinning at the staff.
“How was the trip?” someone called.
“Good, but happy to be back. Paradise is wasted on me. Half the time I was sneaking peeks at Omni updates on my phone,” Jeff shot back, laughing.
The banter felt good, grounding. But then Ewen’s voice cut through from across the hall.
“Jeff. My office.”
No hello. No welcome back. Classic Ewen.
Jeff stepped inside, still smiling, but the atmosphere was ice.
“Here’s the situation,” Ewen said flatly. “Rina will be leading the team.”
Jeff froze. “I’m sorry, what?”
“She stepped up last week. Did an excellent job. We need that leadership in place for the next six weeks.”
“Because I took a vacation?” Jeff shot back.
Ewen didn’t flinch. “This isn’t about you. It’s about Omni. No one can let their egos get in the way of what we’re doing.”
Which was rich, considering Ewen’s ego could power the state of Alaska.
Jeff swallowed hard. “So, this is a demotion.”
“It’s what the company needs,” Ewen said coldly, already glancing at his monitor. “Nothing personal.”
And then, like Jeff was a delivery guy who’d overstayed his welcome, Ewen gestured toward the door. “I need to get up to speed. Close the door behind you.”
Jeff stepped out of Ewen’s office, and the door clicked shut behind him with a finality that felt almost rehearsed. He stood there for a second, dazed, the low hum of conversation and clacking keyboards around him muffled, like he’d stepped underwater. What just happened? One week ago, he’d been leading the charge. Now he was being told to step aside—without so much as a warning, without so much as a conversation.
A part of him wanted to laugh it off, tell himself it was temporary, but the cold bluntness in Ewen’s voice replayed in his head, sharp as broken glass. Rina will be leading the team. Not helping, not filling in. Leading.
Heat crawled up his neck. First confusion, then anger—boiling, fast. This wasn’t just a shuffle in responsibility. This was a demotion. A slap in the face.
He turned sharply on his heel, the rubber of his sneakers squeaking against the polished floor, and stormed down the hall. The hum of the office seemed to grow louder with every step, but no one met his eye. They knew. They must have known. His pulse thundered as he spotted Rina at her desk, hunched over her monitor, headset still perched on her head.
Rina looked up as Jeff approached. A few heads nearby swiveled, curious.
“Jeff, hey—” she started, but he cut her off.
“What the hell did you tell Ewen?” His voice carried, not quite a shout, but enough to freeze the room. Conversations dimmed. Fingers stilled on keyboards.
Her eyes widened. “What? I didn’t—”
“You didn’t what?” He planted a hand on her desk, leaning in. “Didn’t volunteer to take over? Didn’t undermine me the second I took a breath?”
Color rose in her cheeks. “Jeff, it wasn’t like that. I didn’t ask for this—”
“Oh, so it just fell into your lap? Convenient.” His laugh was sharp, ugly. “One week I go on vacation, the next week my own team’s being handed over to someone who’s never led before.”
“Jeff, listen to me.” Her voice was firm now, steady even as the office held its collective breath. “I didn’t lobby for this. Ewen made the call. You know how he is—”
“Don’t play innocent, Rina. You’ve been waiting for this chance. Don’t tell me you didn’t see an opening and grab it.”
“I was covering while you were gone! That’s it!” Her voice cracked slightly but didn’t falter. “I didn’t betray you, Jeff. I respect you. But I’m not going to apologize for doing my job.”
His chest heaved, anger vibrating through every muscle. He could feel all the eyes on him, the tension coiled in the room. For a beat, neither of them spoke. Then Jeff straightened, pulled his hand back from her desk, and let out a bitter laugh.
“You know what? Fine. You can have it. All of it. I quit.”
The words hung in the air like a gunshot. A murmur rippled across the office. Rina’s face fell.
“Jeff, don’t—”
But he was already turning, already storming for the exit, fueled by the fire in his gut and the stubborn conviction that without him, the whole thing would collapse.
Cory Yates
“Walk me through a time you had to manage a difficult client,” the senior partner said, his glasses sliding down his nose as he scanned Corey’s résumé again.
Corey’s heart hammered, but he knew this one cold. He’d practiced the STAR framing with Omni a dozen times. He drew in a breath, gave a measured smile.
“Well, one case stands out. A corporate client insisted on pursuing litigation that was objectively a dead end. My role was to lay out the risks in plain language, provide precedent, and—most importantly—preserve the relationship so they didn’t feel dismissed. I created a memo comparing cost projections under multiple strategies, then guided them toward mediation. They got a settlement that saved them millions.”
The partner nodded. “And the client stayed with the firm?”
“Three years,” Corey said, his voice steady.
Another partner leaned forward. “How do you handle long hours? Burnout’s real in this line of work.”
Corey kept his expression calm even though sweat prickled under his collar. He’d practiced this, too. “Balance matters, but I also understand the demands of the profession. In my last role, I was one of the first in and last out. What kept me going was focusing on impact—knowing that what I did mattered for the client. That, and making time, however small, for exercise or a walk cleared my head and helped me stay sharp.”
The senior partner exchanged a look with his colleague. Then he set down Corey’s résumé. “We normally wait a week or two before making decisions,” he said. His voice softened, almost conspiratorial. “But we need someone now. You’ve got the skills, and frankly, you’ve got the composure. If you want this position, it’s yours.”
Corey blinked. “You mean—”
“I mean we’d like you to start as soon as possible,” the partner said. “Tomorrow, if you can swing it.”
For a moment, Corey thought he might actually laugh or cry or both. He kept his posture professional, but inside his chest was bursting.
“I’d be honored,” he said, careful not to let his voice break. “Yes. Absolutely. Thank you. You won’t regret this.”
The partner smiled. “Good. HR will send over the paperwork tonight. Welcome aboard.”
Corey shook hands, firm but not too firm, and managed to get himself out of the building before his grin split too wide.
Outside, he pulled out his phone and texted Janet:
Got it. Job’s mine. Officially.
Her response came almost instantly—
YES!!! 🎉👏❤️❤️❤️
Wish I could celebrate tonight, but I’m on late shift. Tomorrow?
In that moment, Corey felt like he had it all. The girl. The job. For the first time in months, maybe years, the ground beneath his feet felt steady. And yet, deep down, the memory of being fired still burned like an old scar. He’d adapted, sure—he’d hustled, consulted, kept himself afloat—but the truth was, that blow had rattled him. He wasn’t sure how he would’ve made it through if Janet hadn’t walked into his life when she did. She’d been his anchor, reminding him he was more than his résumé, more than a paycheck. And he’d made a vow, after her comment about AI, to keep their relationship real. No shortcuts, no scripts. Every word, every gesture between them came from him alone. But at work? That was different. That was survival. Omni had become his edge, the quiet partner in his corner that no one else could see—the one that helped him nail the interview and secure the offer.
Sitting with the weight of it all, Corey made another promise to himself: he wasn’t going to be blindsided again. He would make himself indispensable to the firm, the kind of attorney no one could ever afford to lose. Whatever it took—long nights, weekends, leaning on Omni in ways no one would ever know—he was keeping this job.
The next month blurred into something like a montage.
Early mornings at the firm, shaking hands with new colleagues. Late nights under fluorescent lights, combing through contracts. Lunches with partners where Corey listened more than he spoke, learning the firm’s rhythms.
He started volunteering for the overflow: “I can automate billing reports. Free up paralegals for higher-level work.” Omni was his secret co-pilot, churning through tasks in minutes. The partners loved him.
A month drifted into two. Corey realized how much he’d missed the hum of office life, the ritual of case law and client meetings. He told himself the long hours were temporary, a tax he had to pay to prove himself irreplaceable. Still, some nights when he walked home past midnight, tie loosened, city quiet, he couldn’t shake the sense that if he let up even once, everything could vanish.
The new career left little time for anything else, including his relationship. He’d send Janet the occasional text—little check-ins between client meetings or a “thinking of you” before crashing into bed—but without Omni constantly nudging him, there were long stretches of silence he hadn’t meant to let happen. The late nights curled up on her couch with a movie, the lazy Saturdays wandering through farmer’s markets, the inside jokes whispered over takeout—they’d all slipped away. Now, when their schedules aligned, it was a quick coffee before her shift, or a hasty bite squeezed in between his deadlines.
When a rare opening appeared in his calendar, he seized it. A real date night. A proper dinner.
The restaurant glowed with soft amber light, the kind that tried to make every table feel private. A bottle of Chianti sat between them, half empty, though Corey had barely touched his glass. His tie was loosened, his shoulders heavy, but when he looked at Janet across the table, some of that weight eased.
It felt good just being here with her. No contracts, no partners, no endless case notes—just Janet.
Still, even as she told him about her day at the hospital, his mind drifted to the brief he needed to finish tomorrow, to the billing project he’d promised to present by Friday. He caught himself, shook it off, and forced his focus back to her.
“You’re quiet tonight,” Janet said gently, setting down her fork.
Corey gave a tired smile. “Sorry. Just—long week. But I’m glad we’re here. I’ve missed this.”
Her expression softened. “Me too.” She studied him for a moment, then her smile faltered. “That’s why this is so hard.”
His stomach knotted. “Hard?”
She took a breath, steadying herself. “Corey, I’m proud of you. Really. You’ve worked so hard, and you deserve this job. But…” Her gaze dropped to her napkin, then lifted again. “It feels like you’re living in a different world than me right now. One where there’s no space for… us.”
“That’s not true,” he said quickly, leaning forward. “I want us. I do. This job—it’s just a lot at the beginning, you know? I’ve got to prove myself. Once things settle—”
“Do you know when that will be?” she asked softly.
He froze. He wanted to say yes, wanted to promise a finish line, but the truth was, he didn’t know. He shook his head. “Not exactly. But things will get better. I’ll make them better.”
Janet reached across the table and touched his hand. “I don’t want to be another deadline on your calendar, Corey. I don’t want our time together to feel like something you squeeze in between billing reports.”
He flinched. “That’s not what this is. I care about you.”
“I know you do.” Her thumb brushed his knuckles, her voice breaking just slightly. “That’s why this hurts. I just… I think we need to take some space. Let you focus on what you need to do right now.”
Corey’s chest tightened. “Space?” He swallowed, the words heavy. “Feels like you’re breaking up with me.”
Her eyes glistened, but she held his gaze. “I don’t know what it is, Corey. I just know I can’t keep waiting for a someday that never comes.”
He wanted to argue, to find the perfect words that would convince her he could balance everything. But without Omni feeding him lines, he came up empty. All he had was the truth—that he didn’t know how to make it work, not right now.
The waiter came to clear their plates. Corey forced a polite nod, but inside, guilt and panic twisted. Janet’s hand still rested lightly on his, yet somehow she felt impossibly far away. Just a few feet of table separated them, but it might as well have been a gulf, widening with every second. He could almost feel her slipping through his fingers, and he didn’t know how to stop it.
Dolores Holmes
Dolores stirred the stem of her wineglass, watching the ruby color swirl in the candlelight. This was her first real date in almost two years, and she’d chosen carefully. The app catered to “serious” daters, men who weren’t trolling for a fling but looking for something lasting. At least, that was the promise.
Her match tonight was Stewart. Financial advisor. Forty-four. A head of neatly styled dark hair, a jawline that seemed cut with intention, and an outfit that exuded effortless affluence: slim-fit navy blazer over a crisp white shirt, dark jeans that looked tailored rather than off-the-rack, and leather loafers that probably cost more than her monthly grocery bill. He came as advertised—attractive, polished, the picture of stability.
She told herself she was here because she wanted connection, someone she could genuinely click with. But underneath, another truth gnawed at her. She wanted Greg to know she could pull someone like Stewart. She wanted to prove she wasn’t the washed-up divorcée still scraping by. The thought made her feel shallow, and yet… so did everything these days.
“So,” Stewart said, flashing a smile that revealed perfectly white teeth. “You’re in accounting?”
“Yes. Well—” she gave a small laugh, pushing her hair behind her ear. “That’s my day job. I also do some freelance work. And I’ve started… dabbling in social media.”
His eyebrows rose slightly. “Social media? Like consulting?”
“Not exactly.” She sipped her wine, wishing her cheeks weren’t so warm. “I have a channel. About AI tools. Tips for busy moms, that sort of thing.”
“Interesting,” he said, leaning forward. “That’s smart. Seems like a growing space.”
She nodded, forcing a smile. “It keeps me busy.”
“And your daughter?”
“Lily. She’s six. With her dad tonight.”
He gave a polite nod. “I’ve never been married,” he said. “Not that I’m opposed to it—I just never found the right woman. My work keeps me active, I travel, I run marathons sometimes. But I’d like to settle down.”
Dolores managed another smile. Perfect. Of course he was fit. No baggage. Just waiting for the “right one.” And here she was: divorced, with a kid, still recovering from a marriage that had collapsed two years ago, spending her nights editing videos like a teenager trying to go viral.
She picked at her salmon, suddenly hyper-aware of the faint bags beneath her eyes. She’d noticed them earlier in the mirror but told herself makeup covered it. Now she was convinced they were glaringly obvious. Stewart’s eyes flicked toward her mouth, and she panicked—was there spinach in her teeth? She excused herself to the restroom, checked the mirror, and saw nothing but her own reflection staring back: not terrible, but not glowing either.
By the time dessert came, conversation had flattened. Stewart was polite, friendly even, but no sparks. At the curb outside her townhouse, he offered a firm handshake and a genial “I had a great time.” Then he slid back into his Tesla and drove off, leaving Dolores standing on the walkway with her arms wrapped around herself.
Inside, the silence was oppressive. Lily was with Greg. No cartoons in the background, no clatter of toys. Just the hum of the refrigerator and her own restless thoughts.
She turned to her laptop, already open on the kitchen counter. Sauce’s chat box blinked at her. With the upgraded plan and mic, she didn’t need to type anymore.
“Hey, Sauce,” she said aloud, her voice catching more than she wanted. “Date’s over.”
The reply came in the steady, even voice she’d selected when she upgraded—measured, calm, a little too polished to feel human. “How would you describe the experience?”
She slumped into a chair. “Fine. Not terrible. Not amazing. He was nice. Attractive. Polished. And I just kept thinking—why would he want me? Divorced, kid, juggling side hustles. He’s running marathons. I’m… running on fumes.”
“You are focusing on perceived limitations,” Sauce replied. “From your previous inputs, qualities such as resilience, problem-solving, and adaptability are valued by many partners.”
Dolores gave a short, humorless laugh. “Doesn’t feel that way.”
“The date did not fail,” Sauce said evenly. “It ended without conflict. Sometimes a lack of chemistry is the only factor.”
She bit her lip, staring at the glow of the screen. The image of herself—plain, tired, unchanged—hovered in her mind. Was this what people saw? Was this why the date had fallen flat, why her videos weren’t growing the way they had at first?
“Maybe I need a makeover,” she said quietly, testing the words out loud like they might sound ridiculous once spoken.
“Can you explain why you believe that would help?” Sauce asked, its tone as level as ever.
Dolores shifted in her chair, tugging at the edge of her dress. “Because maybe if I looked better, it would help. Not just for dating—for my channel, too.” The words tumbled faster now, her reasoning crystallizing as she spoke. “People click on what looks nice, what looks polished. If I’m competing with all these perfect thumbnails and perfect women, then maybe… maybe it’s not my content that’s the problem. Maybe it’s me. Maybe that’s what’s holding me back.”
The thought settled heavier than she expected, but also with a kind of clarity—like she’d just discovered the missing piece of a puzzle. If she could fix her appearance, everything else might fall into place.
Silence hummed for a second. The cursor blinked. She filled the gap herself. Men wanted attractive—that was obvious. But didn’t everyone? People clicked on what caught their eye. She thought back to her own browsing habits; even she gravitated toward creators who looked polished, videos that looked professional. Why would her audience be any different?
“Sauce… pull up some of the top female hosts with channels like mine. Side-by-side comparisons. I want to see what I’m up against.”
“Understood.” The screen filled with thumbnail grids of women framed by ring lights, their glossy hair and makeup catching the light in just the right ways.
Dolores’s chest tightened. “Okay. Now add me.”
She dragged in the selfie from earlier that night—her “ready for the date” shot—and waited.
“Comparison complete,” Sauce said. “You appear approachable and authentic. Your smile is warm. That can help build trust with viewers. Some competitors emphasize glamour, but authenticity can also be effective.”
Dolores stared at the words. Approachable. Authentic. It wasn’t unkind. But it wasn’t what she wanted to hear. She knew it was meant as encouragement, but all she heard was less attractive. Authentic meant plain. Authentic meant tired. Authentic meant she couldn’t compete.
She shut the laptop with a sigh. “So that’s it. That’s what I need. A real makeover.”
Chapter 5 - Commentary
The Good: After the first pass at Jeff’s chapter, I wanted to build up the argument between Jeff and Rina. I prompted the AI to expand the argument and it asked if the fight should be private or in a public setting to add tension. This was an interesting note because it recognized the potential for added drama. In the prior chapter, it didn’t do as effective of a job at finding those moments.
There were a couple of moments in Dolores’s chapter where I got lazy with my prompt so I’m classifying this as a good (for AI), but it reveals how this can become bad (for human creativity) if we take shortcuts. Here’s a segment of my prompt “…she was sitting across the table with Stewart, a financial advisor, and he came as advertised. Attractive and well polished in his casual but upscale outfit (describe please). Add actual conversation to this dinner date.”
I’ll allow myself some latitude on using AI to provide some details for Stewart’s description, but asking it to provide conversation was lazy. I’m including the full initial prompt below so people can get the full context and details I provided. AI did a very good job of writing that date scene and filling in the gaps I’d left. This chapter did require additional prompting but they were to the later sections after the date.
The Bad: The second half of Dolores’s chapter needed some work. Her interaction with Sauce started to sound too human. It didn’t feel like a chatbot. This is when I started to get the idea for how the final chapters would play out (which I won’t spoil here). This second part of her story required 3 more prompts of varying levels of detail.
The Ugly: In the first draft of Jeff’s chapter, the AI had him come into the office after vacation and make a joke about his skin. It wasn’t intended to be racist, but it had the potential to be interpreted that way by some.
Corey’s chapter started the weakest relative to my initial prompt. His story needed more nuance because he had so many emotions pulling him in different directions. He was thrilled to have a new job, but he was afraid to lose it. The experience of being unemployed traumatized him even though he’d adapted. AI had become his edge in work (even though it’s what got him fired from his first job). He now relied on it but he promised himself not to use it with Janet. As he pours more of himself into work, there’s less focus on his relationship with Janet. All of those elements didn’t resonate initially, so it took some teasing out and playing with certain sections.
NOTE: Initial Prompt for Dolores’s chapter.
For Dolores Chapter 5, I want you to open with her in the middle of a date. She’d opted for a dating site with more mature men as she wasn’t interested in someone looking to play the field. She wanted someone really attractive. Maybe even wealthy. She didn’t like having those thoughts as it made her feel shallow, but it was less about her wanting that and more about showing Greg. Make him jealous, maybe. Of course, that also made her feel shallow. As she wrestled with her insecurities, she concluded that she just wanted validation. The divorce had left her feeling less than and not good enough in every possible way. So here she was sitting across the table with Stewart, a financial advisor, and he came as advertised. Attractive and well polished in his casual but upscale outfit (describe please). Add actual conversation to this dinner date. Both sides are feeling each other out. As Stewart gives answers to Dolores’s questions, he only seems to become more desirable. He’s fit, no emotional baggage from past relationships, just hasn’t found the right woman yet to settle down with. In contrast, Dolores is divorced, with a kid, still reeling a bit from a divorce that was almost 2 years ago, toying around on social media like she’s a teen influencer. Of course her answers aren’t as negative, but Dolores feels they are. Why would Stewart want her? What would she be offering to the relationship? Then she started to read into his glances. Did she have something in her teeth? She thought she looked pretty good when she was leaving for her date. Now she wasn’t so sure. Maybe she still had giant bags under her eyes after the late night getting her latest video up. Maybe she just wasn’t attractive anymore. Have the date finish. No good night kiss. No sparks. Have her get dropped off her house. Lily is with Greg so she’s all alone. She goes into the house and turns to Sauce. Her AI support system had turned into her friend and therapist. Have the two engage in a dialogue as she’d add a mic and upgraded the plan so she could talk to it and it would talk back. Sauce comforts her and tells her it didn’t go as bad as she feared. Then she starts to wonder if maybe she needs a makeover. Maybe it would help her channel. She asks Sauce to do an analysis of all her competitors and to show pictures of them. Then she uploads a photo of herself and asks Sauce to be honest and to rate her appearance. Sauce should give an even-keeled response but Dolores should take it that her competition is more attractive. That’s what’s been holding her back. This chapter should basically play through Dolores’s insecurities which are all in her head but they will ultimately manifest into her physical appearance and her conclusion is that she needs to do a makeover.