by Mars Dorian
“What else? What do I need to pack?”
X shrugged. Violet re-watched Stax’ announcement speech. Listened to the three types of missions he spoilered.
Negotiation test.
Fan engagement.
Creative video creation.
Good to know, but it didn’t say anything about what she should bring to the show. She turned to X and frowned.
“Neither Roman nor anyone in the Blogbuster team gave me any suggestions on what to bring. Merde, I don’t even know what I have to do at the show. Major fail.”
X took out a cookie and nibbled at it.
“The guy’s a marketer, through and through. I wouldn’t be surprised if he told you the tasks right before the show.”
Violet hoped not. It may be good for show surprises, but bad for her planning. She spent almost a year planning her battlefront fashion show in the industrial zone, and despite her exquisite preparation, it went down the toilet. Incompetent peeps destroyed her masterpiece performance in a snap. Preparation on her side wouldn’t guarantee success, which pissed her off to no end. In moments like these, she wished she could duplicate herself a thousand times and inhabit the world with nothing but Violet Gear S-class clones. But 3D printing human beings turned out to be wishful thinking at this point, so her best chance was to rely on herself, and her all-rounder collection of techwear clothes.
Because, technology + mind power = V in epic mode.
At least according to the algebra of Violet.
She pushed her last pair of anti-dirt socks into the filled rucksack, grabbed one of X’s cookies, and updated her community.
“Preparing for the Blogbuster. Look at my equipment.”
She switched to live video mode and filmed her bedroom. Showed her rucksack, and the equipment she chose.
The community commented in realtime.
“Wow, it looks like you’re going to war.”
“Be prepared. The scouts would be proud of you.”
“Violet, you’re the bestest. Your laborlove will get you far. ”
“Those mofos don’t stand a chance against you.”
“We should go out once you win.”
“XOXO, Violet FTW.”
The eScroll screen was littered with a hundred other positive rants. Granted, feelgood compliments wouldn’t help her win, but at least she was dressed for success.
For the rest of the day, she moved in slowmo and prepared her mind and body for tomorrow. Whom would she meet first? What was the BBB like? Would the Blogbuster start right away? Argh, too many questions, all of which electrified her insides. If she could, Violet would ‘unluv’ needless fear. But emotions didn’t come with fanpages. Not yet at least.
In the past, she tried meditation to cope with the stress, but with so much fire under her butt, even three seconds of sitting proved to be blazing purgatory. So she looked for food comfort. Drank some low-carb soy milk and ate some light snacks. Noodle salad with papaya strips instead of the meat lasagna that was cooling off forever in the freezer. When light switched to darkness outside, Violet hugged X goodbye and received one last piece of advice from him.
“I know I don’t need to tell you this, but you’re going up against vloggers just as driven as you. And when you have ambitious people competing for the big prize, it’s going to get messy. V, hope for the best, but prepare for the worst.”
Amen.
Violet nodded, gave him a kiss on the cheek and closed the door behind him. The guy acted like a walking self-help book, which often scratched her nerves, but his heart was in the right place. Plus, he was usually spot-on with his diagnoses. That’s why she made a mental note and tagged his statement under survival advice.
Hope for the best, prepare for the worst.
24
Bam received another message once he returned home. A digital ticket for the shuttle bus tomorrow, plus a file with all the Blogbuster participation info. Bam burned through it in less than a minute. A never-ending string of text chunks and flashy images. The so-called info guide turned out to be just another commercial. Maximum style, minimum content. Bam sighed. Roman Stax would market his mother if he saw a viable business model in her.
Whatever.
He waddled to his coach and put on some classical music.
So this is it, he said under his breath, I’m really going to the Blogbuster.
It was going to be tough, especially with the S-class caliber of vloggers as competition. But even if Bam didn’t win the tournament, he’d attract so much attention from the show he could steer it back to his own community. He’d land more subscribers and even more potential sponsorship deals along the process. That proposition made him smile. Good old Ludwig van Beethoven’s tunes climaxed from the surround speakers and lulled Bam back into lala land.
Daydreaming was moving in full-throttle.
Whatever was going to happen at the Blogbuster, it was going to be a win-win situation for him.
25
Next day, early. Like, too early.
The Stax Media bus shuttle halted at the front door to Violet’s studio space. She expected a personal taxi, or at least a luxury limo liner. Come on, she was one of only eight vloggers. Won against thousands of applicants, and all she got was a shuttle bus?
Stax better not save money on the wrong end.
The driver walked up and helped her stash her rucksack. Violet turned to her right and saw the sun just peeking up from the horizon. This was the first time in five years she’d seen the sunrise. Not bad. She tilted her head back to the bus and inspected it up close. The Blogbuster logo shone from the rear with flamboyant colors. The tagline was visible, no matter what angle you viewed. Even the driver’s uniform boasted the logos and matching brand colors. At least the visual branding was consistent.
Violet yawned while covering her mouth.
The driver smiled.
“Too early for you?”
“I can handle it.”
He nodded and ushered her inside the bus. Violet passed through the seat line and counted five persons. She knew three but recognized the other two from their blog pics. The black guy was Trigger, a popular video blogger who 3D printed his own firearms. Although Violet never dove into the world of guns and rifles, she enjoyed the quality of his vids. Fun and informational, shot in 3D high res. The guy also possessed a great speaking voice and spoke from a vast knowledge pool of technology. When she passed by his seat, he dropped a silent salute and nodded. Violet shrugged. Should she greet him, or anyone for that matter? They were all rivals, competing for Stax’ massive position. She decided to go for the passive aggressive silence stance and passed another row of seats. To her left, she recognized Fitnessy, a well-known fitness vlogger with the build of a horse and the looks of a model. Peroxide blond, snowy-skin and emerald eyes shining through the dim light of the buses interior. Violet let her gaze lower and noticed Fitnessy’s proud rack. Pure glitterati. That girl looked so perfect she must have been genetically engineered. Whatever. Violet sighed and moved on, till she reached the back seats. Right there, with the window at her back and the view of everyone in front, she could analyze her competitors without looking like a stalker. Très bien. She placed her rucksack next to her feet when a guy with short-trimmed hair peeked out from the seat before her.
“Heya Violet.”
“Hey.”
“You waddled like a dopey penguin through the bus, I feel like waking you up.”
“Well, you accomplished that.”
She ignored the guy, took out a digital drawing and started a new black and white raw sketch. Because it was early morning, she chose to finger paint on her eScroll. A few wipes her, a few swipes there, and voila, black and white turned into a sketch design for her new camouflage collection. Creativity on the fly. No matter how long this shuttle ride took, she could still crank out some sweet designs and inspect her rivals. Double-win or what. The bus roared its way through the morning streets. Little traffic. Violet lowered her head and cre
ated two more sketches. Five minutes into the process, her hands practically moved by themselves. Thick lines turned into slender ones, sharp edges mixed with soft curves. To Violet, it always felt like magic, to create something out of nothing.
“You really dig fashion and that stuff, eh?”
Violet looked up from her eScroll. The guy with the bloodied bandaids grinned again. D’uh. She shot him a scowl and grumbled, semi-subtle Violetspeak for Leave Me The Hell Alone, but it was in vain. The guy kept pestering her.
“I’ve seen the video where your model went aflame.”
“I think everyone has at this point.”
“Was that part of the show? It looked pretty cool actually. I never watch fashion shows, but your video was fun, well, till that jacket blew up.”
Violet clutched her teeth.
“The jacket didn’t blow up, the modeI dropped the flare grenade instead of throwing it. And for the record, I paid that girl a small fortune to act. It turns out she was incapable of doing a professional job.”
“Or maybe she wasn’t used to wearing inflammatory clothes.”
If this guy said one more word, Violet would go inflammatory on his stupid face.
“Or maybe you should turn around and mind your own business,” she said instead.
“Done,” he said, “I already sent twenty updates to my community today. They wish me good luck.”
Good for you, idiot. She ignored him and turned her attention back to her digital masterpiece. Every spoken word with that sucker was a waste of oxygen. She continued to finger-paint on her display, diving deeper into the creative mode with every swipe of her finger. If she was to able to stay in creative flow, she would be able to create three new concepts before the shuttle bus reached its BBB destination. Well, she would, if it wasn’t for the guy with the loose mouth.
“You know who I am?”
He pointed his finger towards his bandaid-blanketed nose which looked like a clown on a child’s birthday.
“Yeah,” Violet said, “you’re the guy who prevents me from being productive.”
He brushed off her comment.
“I’m just making conversation.”
“You are aware we’re competitors from now on? There’s no need for chitchat.”
“Heh, I like your style. Just as brash as your videos. At least you’re authentic.”
He reached out his hand.
“I’m Bam, by the way.”
“I don’t care who you are. Once I’m in the show, I’m going for first prize. And when I do, crashing into drones will be the least of your concerns.”
Bam put on a grimace, but he joked about it.
“Ouch, you bite. Good thing my skin’s tough.”
He winked at her and moved back to his seat. Finally. If the competition turned out to be as useless as this faux pas, Violet was going to win it laissez-faire. She smiled, cracked her knuckles and surrendered back into her daydream.
Deep inside, she hoped the other vloggers weren’t as annoying as Bam.
26
Cute face, beasty behavior. Guess that came with the territory when you were fabricating in the fashion field. Violet Gear, Bam thought, I remember you.
He stretched his back and kept his eyes forward. Saw the TwinBuilds giggling two rows in front of him. Male and female lookalikes with the ability to build everything out of anything. The nitro boost version of the DIY maker movement. Bam watched a lot of their videos, just to see what they came up with. 3D printed huts, self-replicating micromakers and even anti-dirt clothes. And since they were male and female, they tapped into both gender markets and accumulated an impressive viewership. Bam wondered whether they’d compete against each other or counted as one participant. Only time would tell, or Roman Stax himself. No need to worry about these two.
Bam leaned back and noticed the bus driver walking through the rows, distributing fresh coffee, hot cocoa and cookies with coconut accents. It must be easy living for bus drivers. With the shuttle set on auto-pilot, he could chill out for hours. Would there even be a need for them in the near future? Hard to tell since this city changed way too fast, especially under the new government rule.
“What would you like, sir?”
The bus driver stopped in front of Bam and flashed a professional smile.
“Hot cocoa, please.”
The driver nodded, handed him a steaming cup.
“Cream?”
“Go for it.”
Splosh. He sprayed low-cab sugar whiteness on top. What a treat. The bus driver nodded, passed him by and faced Violet behind.
“Coffee or black tea?”
Violet frowned.
“What about the hot cocoa? I don’t like caffeine, it makes me dizzy.”
The driver shrugged.
“Sorry, out of order.”
“Already? We’re just a handful of people.”
“I miscalculated the demand for hot chocolate. Normal folks prefer coffee at this time.”
“Normal folks don’t apply for the Blogbuster,” Violet said.
The driver shrugged again. Like, it’s the way it is, take it or leave it, girl. Violet was about to wave him away when Bam turned to them, his big hands wrapped around the steaming cup.
“You can have my hot cocoa, I haven’t even taken a sip.”
He moved the steamy cup towards her.
“Is it poisoned?”
Bam smiled.
“Are you serious?”
“You just never know.”
“Here, you can watch me take a sip and see if I fall down.”
“No,” she said, “if you drink it, you’ll spread your germs all over the rim of the cup.”
“So you want it?”
She hesitated but accepted his invitation. The driver smiled.
“So, that’s taken care of. If you need my help, you know where you can find me. I’m dozing off.”
Bam nodded and turned his glance back to Violet taking sips out of his cocoa.
“It’s good, ain’t it?”
She squinted her eyes.
“This doesn’t change anything.”
Bam smiled and turned around. Made a mental note — Violet is one tough cookie to crack.
If she’s already oozing hostility during a harmless cocoa exchange, what happens when she’s going battlemode during the show?
Bam realized he needed to expect the worst.
27
Blogbuster Building, aka the BBB, here we go.
The vloggers stepped out of the shuttle buses and walked towards the entrance. Wall-sized windows covered it, two giant steel doors slid open. Hundreds of people stood to the left and right screaming as the vloggers entered. Hand-picked reporters from the blogosphere arrived together with the security and dozens of shouting fans. All chanting different names. Violet even heard ‘Gear’ a couple of times, mixed with the ‘Bam’ name chanting. He moved towards a group of kids who held up a sign reading ‘Bam’s the best.’
Bam stepped towards his fans signing their arms, shirts and even that one punk girl’s cleavage. Even Trigger went into full-fan catering. A middle-aged guy behind the line handed him an empty cartridge and gleamed with shiny eyes as Trigger wrote his trademark signature on it.
“Violet, Violet, over here.”
She looked right and saw a group of girls with violet-colored hair, wearing DIY attire. But not any outfits — Violet noticed their style in an instaflash. Sure, the cut looked skewed and the color choice was questionable, but the girls definitely modeled their outfits after Violet Gear’s fashion style. She beamed. And although she rarely gave autographs, she walked up the girls and showed her candy side.
“What’s up ladies?”
They squealed in unison. The chubby brunette stepped forward.
“I’ve watched all your videos. I even followed your fashion tutorials, look how you inspired me.”
She moved back and pointed towards her makeshift dress. It looked like a birthday dress mangled by a psychop
ath with two left hands.
“What do you think?” the girl said with big eyes.
Design disaster from top to bottom, but come on, not even Violet could bring that line over her lips.
“I think you’re on the right path, keep creating,” she said.
It was bad PR to fire the insults before the event, especially to those who supported her. So she kept it low profile. All smile and low spit. She gave the girls an autograph and headed back to the building front of everyone else.
“Gotta go, wish me luck, ladies.”
“Always and always,” they said in unison.
Violet and the other vloggers entered the lobby adorned with glossy marble floors. Every step felt like a million credits. She could even see her reflection looking back up at her. So shiny.
“Hello, vloggers.”
The reception lady greeted everyone with a service smile. It was time to check in.
Violet saw the Official BB-branded personnel welcoming them. They took care of the equipment and bags. Everything appeared to be a normal check-in, similar to a classy hotel. Violet looked around and inspected her rival vloggers up close. A small girl with curly hair and freckles squealed till everyone in the hall turned to her.
“What’s wrong with the connection? I can’t update my community.”
The vloggers just looked at her, two checked it out themselves. Their eyes blew up.
“It’s true,” Fitnessy said, “the web doesn’t work here.”
Invisible question marks on every vlogger’s face.
“Ah yeah,” said the lady behind the reception desk.
“I forget to tell you — this facility is 100% offline till the begin of the show.”
Every vlogger’s face turned to WTF mode.
“You’re kidding, right?”
She shook her head, Violet stepped up.
“What does this mean? Why can’t we go online?”
“Mr. Stax said the BBB functions as a place of rest and preparation. He wants you to worry about the impending challenges and not about your online communities.”
“You mean he doesn’t want us to spoil the show.”