Known Afterlife (The Provider Trilogy, Volume One) by Trey Copeland

back corner of the lab for the past year, spent every waking hour focused on the project's last and most important phase.
    Stalling recently confided to Lorissa during one of their late evening dinners —his wife more interested in the psychological events of his day then any scientific breakthrough—that he struggled with the role he had played in Jennifer's hermit existence. Gifted intellect beyond measure, a drive to succeed rivaled by few, Stalling's gratitude for Jennifer's involvement grew every day. She truly was one of the few people he could say without them, the project would fail.
    "What I fear most ," he confessed, "is that, once the project is complete, she loses her sense of purpose."
    "Did you ever stop to think her dedication reached beyond the drive for scientific discovery?"
    "I don't follow. We pay her a fortune and I tell her frequently she is worth every bit and then some."
    With a sympathetic expression and a smile conveying love and admiration, Lorissa had reached over and caressed his hand. "You are a good man Stalling Alterian, but so oblivious at times to the ways of women."
    "You’re not suggesting she has romantic interest in me , are you?"
    "I swear Stalling, the size of your ego never ceases to amaze me. Yes, her heart dictates her decisions more then you realize. No, you are not the object of her love."
    "Then who? Antone is more laughable then me. There is no other man in her life."
    "Have you forgotten about the one man who has been in her life every minute of the day for the past ten years?" The question had haunted Stalling since.
    When did he stop being a person?
    The clatter of Jennifer's link visor as it hit and slid across the table slung him back to the pressing present. Jennifer rubbed her temples, puffed out her cheeks before exhaling a long, bewildered breath. "Well, it appears the issue is occurring everywhere now: the Auranet, the entrainment platform, the library, everything with a direct link to the mainframe."
    As she was prone to do when her mind was fried, she threw her lab coat off, jumped on the treadmill stationed in the middle of the room and set into a brisk jog. The tight f itting one piece jumper—the breathable material providing perfect support of her sultry curves, previously concealed by the lab coat's boxy cut—and rhythmic bounce of her stride was an immediate distraction the most devout monk could not deny.
    Stalling had grown accustom to this quirky habit as had Antone, though his friend never failed to blush at the site of her body in this state; always finding the need to check updates on his visor or casually turn to survey some distant spot in the server farm. Comfortable in her own skin and the choices she made in life, Stalling was certain she was conscious of the primal reaction the ritual action generated in the two of them. Unlike Antone, Stalling no longer hid his response. He concluded, despite how recluse and geeky his head scientist was, it never hurt to let a women know she was attractive. If it was not Stalling giving it to her, who would.
    "I feared that would occur," Stalling replied after she had pounded out a half-mile or so.
    "How is it you feared it and I didn't?" She huffed, doing nothing to disguise the anger in her voice.
    Stalling had been on the receiving end of Jennifer's displaced aggression more than once. His intimacy with the bigger picture was a constant source of frustration for her analytical mind and something she either refused, or in Stalling's opinion, feared to grasp.
    "Until an hour ago, there was no sign, no warning. Shit, I didn't know it was conceivable until a few hours ago. What have you not told us Stalling?"
    Despite his herculean patience, her accusation produced a rare show of anger across his face. Stalling gazed at the mainframe as his thumb absently traced the line of his tightly manicured beard. He was not angry with Jennifer it was with himself.
    "It is n ot a matter withholding anything. My full