The Chipmaker's Revenge
On the first day back after the New Year break, I returned to find my workstation gone—replaced by two large trash bins sitting side by side.
"Josh, even though you've been with the company for ten years, you still have to comply with company arrangements.
"You were supposed to be reassigned before the holiday. We held off so you could enjoy your New Year. You should be grateful."
As he spoke, my boss pointed toward a corner beside the restroom. There sat a set of low, worn desk and chair—something that looked like it had been discarded by an elementary school.
I set my bag on it. The desk wobbled twice, then collapsed outright.
Amid the muffled snickers around me, I didn't argue or make a scene. I simply looked at the boss, calm and steady.
"You don't have to go through all this trouble to force me out. I'll resign now. I'll forfeit the compensation—just process it as quickly as possible."
His eyes lit up, though his face feigned regret.
"Since you've made up your mind, there's not much I can say. But the Vespere chip you've spent ten years developing belongs to the company—you have no right to take it with you.
"Oh, and when you handle the paperwork, don't forget to pay for that cup of coffee in your hand. It's an employee benefit. As an outsider now, you'll have to cover the cost."
I nodded and signed the termination agreement without resistance.
But the moment I stepped out of the company, I activated the self-destruct program embedded deep within the chip's core.