"I highly suspect your intelligence was duped," Walker added.
This was his counterattack, to prevent Carl from thinking that these scientists were just scraping by. Now he wanted to tell Carl that the problem didn't lie with them, but with the management—what was called intelligence was crap, the management was the incompetent one.
The office fell into a deathly silence. The sunlight outside was bright, yet the room felt chilling.
Carl straightened up, slowly paced to the liquor cabinet, poured himself a glass of whiskey, no ice, and downed it in one go. The liquor burned his throat, but couldn't dispel the chill in his heart. His meticulously planned patent strategy had encountered unprecedented difficulty at the stage of technology replication. Using more advanced and precise equipment, they couldn't replicate what backward equipment had manufactured.
This was not just a technological failure—it was a challenge to his intellect and confidence.
