Pie Box 1

by George Saoulidis

Hector caught himself feeling worried. “Those damn bitches!”

  “Totally,” Tony agreed.

  “Is this legal?”

  “Not really. They’ll get a warning,” he said simply. He then crushed a can in his hand and threw it on the floor.

  “A warning?” Hector shouted. “They just put her in the hospital!”

  Tony turned to him and shrugged. “What do you want me to say, man?”

  Hector was speechless.

  DROP THIRTEEN

  The ambulance lit up the street in blue colours. It was late at night. People peeked out of their windows, curious to see what the fuss was about.

  “The odd thing is, that in his neighbourhood, we’re usually doing a pickup, not a delivery. Sign here, please,” the medic said and presented a tablet for him to sign digitally.

  “You can’t just leave her here,” Hector complained.

  The medic glanced up at his face. “Aren’t you the registered owner of this athlete?”

  “Yeah... But-”

  “Then it’s your problem, not mine. They stabilised her down at the ER and now she just needs to recover. You can look up an FAQ at our website for instructions and supplies you might need.”

  “Which website?”

  “Just look under Cyberpink Common Questions on the Apollo Medical site.”

  Hector blinked and pointed down. “So this is common?”

  “More than you might think,” the medic said and checked the paperwork. He seemed satisfied and called up his partner, who got ready to push from the back of the ambulance. “So, where do you want her?”

  Hector rubbed his face, practically slapping himself awake. It was late, and this was all too much. He usually lived a quiet, normal life. Customers came in, a couple of rush orders, some invoicing. That was pretty much the extent of this daily excitement.

  “Come round the back where I load the gear, and we’ll put her up in my room, I guess. I don’t have a guest room.”

  The medic raised an eyebrow but said nothing. They lifted the stretcher and carefully got her upstairs, then placed her on the bed.

  Hector was happy to notice that they were gentle. Corporate fuckers that did the absolute bare minimum so as not to get sued for malpractice, but gentle.

  “Thanks guys,” he said, and they took off into the night, leaving him alone with his property.

  DROP FOURTEEN

  Hector put his face in his palms. “What am I doing?” he mumbled.

  The woman was unconscious on his bed. At some point she might have been pretty. It was impossible to tell any more. Underneath the scars and the bruises, there were calluses on most of her body. Half her face was a cyber replacement, her right arm was one as well, from the hand up to the elbow. A knee was completely replaced with titanium and plastic, ankles were reinforced with some sort of protection to avoid injury, and the ribcage was encased in overlapping plates of armour.

  Hector checked out the handiwork, trailing his fingertips along the edges of the armour. It wasn’t skeevy, but a pure, professional appreciation, the way he’d check out the bronze chestplate of a hoplite soldier in a museum.

  “She’s a work of art,” he whispered, and realised he was breathing hard.

  He stood there for a few minutes, appreciating her.

  Then he replaced her IV bag and went to get some supplies. This would be a long night.

  DROP FIFTEEN

  He had 500 euro at the bank. He spent 400 in medical supplies and IVs with nutritions. Plus a house-visit from a mechdoc.

  The man handled her as if she was a piece of meat. He took care of the internal bleeding and reset the broken rib. Then he ran more tests, carting a small infirmary of gear with him, all carried by an autonomous four-legged...

  Mule, was the right word?

  Army-quality, definitely. It moved like a beast of burden as if it was alive. But it had no head.

  “Doc, listen, I can’t pay for all this right now. I still haven’t collected shit from her and she’s already out cold...”

  “Don’t worry, Mr Troy,” the mechdoc said, going through the bloodwork in his portable lab. “You’re a respectable businessman, well known in the community.” He tapped the side of his head. “I’ve asked around about you, yes. I’ll send you my invoice and we’ll discuss late fees if the situation doesn’t change. This is the start of a long-running partnership, not a hack-job.” His voice was gravelly, deep, full of bass. He made you feel reassured that you wouldn’t die in his hands.

  That was something, at least. “Thank you so much.” Hector shook his hand.

  “I understand you’ve never owned one, before?” the mechdoc asked.

  “A woman or an athlete?” Hector laughed.

  “Both. They can be a handful.”

  “If you say so. Do you own any?” Hector asked, offering some ouzo.

  He accepted it, taking an appreciative sip. “No. I’m asexual,” he said simply.

  Hector raised an eyebrow. “Really. Must be handy, in this line of work. And you’re an expert in both cybernetics and medical issues?”

  “Yes, right on the overlap of the two specialisations. There are many complications even with the finest of cyberlimbs, without taking into account the brutal punishment these women endure at that so called sport.”

  “You don’t watch it?”

  “Not really. I get to see the aftermath up close,” the mechdoc said. “When you witness how the sausage is made, your appetite for it might suffer,” he added, making his point, and drank some more ouzo.

  “Makes sense,” Hector said, lost in his thoughts while staring at Patty lying there on the bed.

  The doc cleaned up his equipment and packed everything in neat little pockets on the mule.

  “Will she be okay?”

  “Still early to say, but I think she’ll recover. That’s a tough lady, right there. Just follow my instructions, let her heal. As for the ruined arm, I can suggest some Hermes replacements and you can see what your budget is. I can handle the installation, not to worry.”

  Hector let his head hang. More costs. Medical, now cyberarm replacement. And he still hasn’t gotten a cent out of her. This was bad business. But it’s not like he had planned for it. “Thank you, Doc, for everything.”

  The mechdoc nodded and left after a while, his robot mule strutting along.

  DROP SIXTEEN

  Patty felt like shit. No, scratch that, it was an understatement. Her head felt torn apart, her leg had a thousand daggers digging inside and her chest hurt only when she breathed.

  She found a man standing over her, his hands on her body. She moved her hand to push him away, but couldn’t move.

  “Wh-” her throat was dry. She licked her lips. The man took notice of her. He was tall, dark, but not particularly handsome. Rugged, you’d describe him as. He had calloused hands, powerful but dexterous. He had a barely trimmed beard and short hair, with a spot missing on his skull from a definite burn sometime in his past.

  She pushed upwards and her arm threw sparks, servos whirred. She broke free of her restraint and grabbed his neck. A slight squeeze and his throat would be crushed. The man was surprised but made no attempt to fight back. His eyes were brownish green and gentle.

  “Why am I tied down?” she hissed. One of her eyes couldn’t focus, instead pointing in different directions and producing a double image for her that was extremely dizzying.

  The man tried to speak but simply made dry heaving sounds.

  She reduced her squeeze a mere fraction.

  “Calm down,” he croaked. His voice was deep. “You’re safe. I’ve been taking care of you. I was working on your chest armour, a plate is bent and is digging into your belly, cutting the skin. Just look, look for yourself.”

  She looked down, indeed there was a nasty scratch on her belly that needed care. It hurt like a bitch, but she wasn’t gonna admit that to him. “It’s fine.”

  He nodded slowly, only as much as her squeeze allowed him to. “
No, it will get infected, and I need to straighten the plate. I already got you a tetanus shot. Your records say it’s been a while since your last one.”

  She squeezed again. “How the hell did you get into my medical records?”

  “I-” she let him speak again, “I’m your new owner. Hello. Hector Troy.”

  She sniffed. “I see. Patty Roo.” She let go.

  He coughed slightly. “Nice to meet you, at last.”

  She looked around the room. This was definitely a man’s room. No curtains, dust everywhere, a few books, posters of various knights and warriors new and old, all in armour. A holophoto, a looping minivideo of a black-haired boy and his father at some yard, smiling wide and being happy. Socks on the floor. Definitely a man’s room. “Why am I here?” she demanded. She sat up and regretted it instantly.

  He showed his palms in a non-threatening gesture. “This is weird, I’ve gotten used to you all this time but I guess you’ve never met me before. You’ve been my problem for so long-”

  She interrupted him. The word ‘problem’ stung a lot more than she cared to admit. She never liked being someone’s problem. “How long?”

  “Two weeks. They patched you up at the hospital and dropped you at my doorstep. Sorry, but I couldn’t afford to keep you there, and the Doc said it would be pretty much the same for you if you stayed here.”

  “Here, as in your bed?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

  “Yes. I don’t normally have guests so that’s the only one. I’ve been sleeping on my couch.”

  “For two weeks?”

  “You get used to it after a couple of nights.” He rubbed his neck as if massaging a crick in it.

  She planned to get really, really angry at him. She didn’t know why, but she believed it would set a good foundation for their relationship from that point forward. Then her uncontrollable eye -- gods, she must have looked real stupid like that -- focused on a bedpan for an entire second, and the reality of her condition sunk in along with the things this man, this stranger, had had to take care of.

  She rubbed her thighs together. She didn’t feel dirty, just a bit sore on the muscles.

  Patty blushed.

  He stepped to the side and undid her IV. “We don’t need that anymore,” he mumbled softly. He leaned down to get the needle out of her other arm and hesitated.

  “I can do it,” she said and tore it out. A drop of red blood appeared but nothing more.

  “Are you hungry? You’ve gotten all the nutrients the doc prescribed, but it must suck not having anything solid in your stomach. What can I get you? I have some rice, and some jello. Strawberry. And I can also get you some ice cream, to celebrate you surviving this thing.” He clapped his hands together and smiled. His smile felt sincere. “Chocolate, perhaps?”

  “Pickles.”

  He blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “I’d like some pickles. Please,” she nodded.

  “Pickles?” he said, bouncing on the spot, his expression still stating that he didn’t believe her.

  “Yes.”

  “Nobody likes pickles,” he said, forcing a smile.

  She turned to the window, feeling hurt, pouting like a little girl. “I like pickles,” she said softly.

  DROP SEVENTEEN

  “This is her?” Tony said, licking his lips, peeking inside the room.

  “Obviously. She’s passed out right now, she must be in a lot of pain but won’t admit to it.” Hector pointed at the futility of it all with a swig of ouzo.

  Tony went inside with reluctant steps and took a selfie with her. He giggled like an overgrown fanboy. He came back in the kitchen and showed the pic to Hector.

  He shook his head.

  “You know, you could have her make some cash on the side, even in this state. I know some people online, I’d only need to put the word out and they’d bite for sure.”

  Hector stood up and paced towards him. He came up right to his face, making sure he exhaled warm, ouzo-flavoured breath right in his nose.

  “If you ever suggest something like that again, I will cut your balls off,” he said simply.

  Tony squealed. “Nnno, I didn’t mean- Okay, out of the question. Totally get it, out of the question. Will never bring it up again, promise.”

  Hector moved a millimetre forwards.

  Tony started and slammed on the back wall. “Promise!”

  Hector turned around and walked slowly back to his seat, downing his drink. Armadillo stood up on its back legs, trying to figure out what all the fuss was about.

  Tony sat down with his hands on his knees, seemingly trying hard not to seem like the disgusting slime that he was. “So, what can I do to help?”

  “You seem to know this shit, the whole Cyberpink business. Tell me what I’m supposed to do. Do I have to sign her up in advance? Hire her out at a team? What do I do?”

  “Good questions, all of them. Yeah, it’s pretty much what you said, you have to honour her contract until it lapses or becomes void. Let’s see...” Tony loaded up the contract and shared it with him.

  “I can’t read this shit right now, especially with a drink in my hand.” Hector pushed the ARO back.

  “I bought this legalese AI and modded it, check this out.”

  The document became garbled and then it became readable, in plain English. “Huh, much better,” Hector said. “She’s bound until the end of this tournament to serve as a replacement at the Pinup Girls, failure to do so will have a penalty of yadda yadda, except in cases of severe injury, incapacitated, okay. So I need to have the mechdoc sign her hospital care again so that we are not in breach. That’s doable. And she has to play in any matches that the coach needs her. With two Pinup Girls out, that will mean they’ll need her as soon as she’ll be able to walk again. Okay. What else?” Hector squinted to read more. “Oh, by the way, good job with this, Tony.”

  Tony seemed to feel real nice for becoming useful. He wisely said nothing.

  “End of clause, etcetera. Okay, basically it says I have to honour the contract as it is, they don’t care who the owner is, still bound, whatever. I wasn’t planning on going in and rearranging things right off the bat anyway, I’d have honoured it even if she hadn’t been injured. We’ll do the paperwork on that and go along with the contract for now. Hopefully, we’ll get paid once this is all over. What else? Accommodations. Why doesn’t she have them? Isn’t it a team thing?”

  Tony stood silently, then suddenly pointed at himself. “Oh, you’re asking me? Lemme look it up on the fan forums.”

  “There are fan forums?” Hector frowned.

  “Just one? Try one for every team, one for all major players and one for every fetish, redheads, blondes, cup size...” He trailed off.

  Horace cut him off with a slash of his wrist. “I don’t wanna know. Just the actual info.”

  Tony typed on his laptop, lightning fast. “Here, they say that she had a temporary bed at Pinup Girls but they threw her out ‘cause there were dorm room issues.”

  “Issues like what?”

  Tony whistled. “Apparently she got into a fight with Pinup Clarissa because she brought in fans to party for the night.”

  “And they kicked the odd girl out, rather than dealing with the actual problem.” Hector sighed and touched the bridge of his nose. “And where is her stuff?”

  “Her stuff? Dunno. Oh wait, judging from these selfies the Pinups posted, I assume she has a locker left there.”

  Hector poured some more ouzo. “One more thing for the to-do list, contact the Pinups’ owner and get her stuff. I’ll call him tomorrow. What else? What do I do?” he asked, repeating the ‘do’ silently, blowing air. He had a nice buzz going on.

  “Well, you’re an owner. You manage Patty Roo, house her, feed her, care for her repairs and medical needs. You’ll want to have another contract lined up before that one is over, you wouldn’t wanna wait to do it last minute. Let’s see. You can negotiate sponsors, ads.” Tony sucked in air through his teet
h. “But she wasn’t much of an earner in that area to begin with.”

  “I know, don’t worry, hit me with facts. This is business, you won’t hurt my feelings. Go.”

  “You could rent a place for her or house her here. And then there’s the best part.”

  Hector eyed him hard.

  “Not that. I’m never gonna mention that one again. No, the best part is upgrades, man! You can upgrade her. Reflexes, implants, speed, pain resistance, anything goes. That’s what Cyberpink is all about.”

  Hector mulled it over, nodding. “That means more money, obviously. Sure, but let’s get her to pay her rent first before we sink more money into her. But you’re not telling me the most important bit. Can I just, you know, sell her? Like the ownership hash key, like we did?”

  Tony seemed taken aback by this. “You don’t wanna keep her?”

  “Hey, this is your fantasy, not mine. Do you wanna buy her? And even if you do, I’m still gonna cut your balls off if I find out you’re pimping her out.”

  “No! No, I can’t afford her, anyway.”

  “And I can?” Hector spat sideways. “Can’t I just sell her? I mean, this isn’t my business. I make armour, I do custom jobs. I have clients, my store. I’m not gonna get caught up in that crazy circus, with sponsors and athletes and ads and screaming fans. I don’t belong there.”

  Tony simply nodded in silence.

  “I don’t even like women! I mean I do like them, but I can’t really stand them after the whole screwing part is over. All that yammering, the demands,” he mimicked the voice of his ex. “Drives me crazy. And that’s the normal, girlfriend type of woman. What am I gonna do with one who’ll probably hate my guts for legally owning her?”

  Patty moaned in her sleep.

  Tony glanced towards the bedroom. He, very wisely, said nothing.

  DROP EIGHTEEN

  Patty stared at the pickle on her lap. It was on a plate, with a fork and knife. Hector said she was to get small bites. He was in the kitchen making a sandwich for him. She caught a glimpse of him opening a can of pet food, but she hadn’t heard of any barking or meowing yet.