by Mars Dorian
“We better work on your pitch,” Trigger said with a smile.
Bam looked up at him and lifted his body.
“Yeah, marketing was never my strength.”
Whizzard came last. He carried his typical fist-friendly visage.
“First you crash our car and now you smash into one. I wonder what brilliant move you come up with next.”
Bam felt the pain of the fall waning. It was nothing compared to Whizzard’s verbal acid.
“At least I did something, instead of cracking lame one-liners and pissing everyone off.”
“Yeah, you did something. Crashed and smashed — wow, what a winner you are.”
He turned to Trigger.
“I hate to point out the obvious, but if this is the best we can do, we might as well trash our online profiles and save us from the upcoming shame.”
“I don’t think it will have to go this far,” Trigger said.
Nothing but calm air around his voice.
Whizzard frowned.
“Well, you seem awfully relaxed. Have you made peace with losing?”
“No, but I’ve found the right candidate who may be interested in our Vorbs.”
53
A district away, Violet glanced at her timer and watched how the seconds tick-tocked away.
“I’m sorry I put you through this.”
She watched her trusted assistant X schlepping her Wearfare collection to the rented van. The poor schmuck had to run back and forth between the street and Violet’s studio space on the third floor. It was a stairway workout with massive amounts of sweat. When X caught his breath, he looked at her for a change and cranked out a smile.
“Working myself to death to please Mrs. Gear? That’s a first.”
She grinned back.
“Look at the positive — this is one heck of a workout. Imagine the abs you get from this.”
“Yeah, too bad a six pack isn’t that useful when you’re lying six feet under because you burned out from over-schlepping.”
He said it, but he didn’t mean it, not with that voice. Violet gave him a rare hug.
“I’m going to compensate you. Or have I ever NOT paid you?”
“Never,” X said and sprinted back to the studio for the last stash of techwear. Violet sighed. Why couldn’t all her team members be as easy as him? A valued transaction between friends, minus all the drama. Violet commanded, they followed. As simple as ABC in the alphabet of Violet Gear. Oh well, the dream went on. And so did reality.
Back on the street, X jammed the last pieces of techwear into the back of the van and shut the door.
“I know you’ve made up your mind, but do you really think you can pull off a fashion show in a couple of hours?”
“I must.”
“It took you almost a year to plan the industrial show,” he said.
“This one will be basic. No choreography, no fancy-schmancy theme, just a bit of catwalking and the fireworks we set off.”
“You mean the fireworks that I set off?” X said.
Violet smiled, hugged X and gave him a schmoozie on the cheek.
“Did you reach your friends?”
“I have swayed four to join the Violet Gear fashion show. Two help me with the fireworks and two to show up for general support.”
Violet gleamed.
“You’re the bestest.”
“I know.”
“No,” Violet said, “you’re the bestest, I mean it, with every fiber of my heart. Not just because you work your face off, mon ami, but also because you can keep up with me. I know I’ve been demanding at times.”
“At times?”
Violet chuckled.
“Occasionally.”
X activated the van, the battery showed ninety-five percent capacity. Good enough.
“Let’s get going before this ends in cheap melodrama. After all, you have a mission to win.”
He looked through the windshield and saw the Vorb floating over the hood.
“Is that thing really filming us the whole time?”
Violet nodded.
“You get used to it.”
“I’m not sure if I want to get used to it.”
X pulled the van back to the streets and kicked it into high gear. Violet checked her eScroll. A few hours left, she thought, a few hours to make this show work and blow everyone away. And to sell a lot of Vorbs. Like, LOTS. She hoped her team members were as effective as her.
54
X deactivated the van before the Sandfort University campus ground. Violet jumped out, noticed dozens of college kids standing around a flat, makeshift structure that didn’t exist hours ago. She walked closer towards it, like, with arms and jaw dangling. She stopped in front of the structure and inspected it up close. Beta, the male part of the TwinBuilds, peeked out behind the build.
“What do you think?”
“I can’t believe it,” Violet said.
“It’s enough if you see it.”
“Is it finished? I mean, can you walk on it?”
“Try it,” Alpha said, the female twin.
She came up from behind wearing a utility uniform packed with tools Violet couldn’t even name.
“You’re the fashion master after all.”
Indeed, she was. Violet jumped onto the structure and walked to the front and back. Shifted her weight from one leg to another and spun around. Granted, it wasn’t premium built, but for just two hours of construction time, this had to be the bestest DIY catwalk stage she’s ever walked on. Violet gleamed when she turned her glance back to the TwinBuilds.
“Très bien, you two did a fabulous job.”
Fabulous, with capital F.
Alpha nodded.
“To be fair, a bunch of college kids helped us set it up. Said they were architects and structural engineers, but I think they just wanted to ditch class.”
F-bomb of visual awe. But the swoon didn’t last, because neither did their time. Violet leaped from the stage as she felt the pressure taking charge again. The mission, the mission.
“Did Elli get the headmaster’s permission?”
The twins shrugged in unison.
“She went on her own. Haven’t seen her since.”
Not good. If she didn’t get the permission, it would all break apart. Merde. Maybe she should have gone herself, at least she wouldn’t screw up. But there was only one Violet Gear in the world, and she was busy organizing the event ad hoc. So she walked up to one of the college kids and grabbed their arm.
“How do I get to the headmaster’s office?”
A high-pitched voice from behind appeared.
“No need to, sister. You can ask her right here.”
Violet turned around, saw Elli and a middle-aged woman walking side by side. At first it looked like a mother leading a child, but on second sight, it was Elli leading the headmaster.
“I believe she’s a big fan of our show already.”
The lady nodded.
“I’m proud that our prestigious school can be a part of your show event.”
The woman talked as if she was hooked on a midsummer night’s dream, or a family pack of sleeping pills, but hey, let’s not be picky here. Violet accepted the permit like she was getting the license for her blow-me-away-action. She wanted to shake Elli’s hand, but the girl opted for the full-surround bear hug instead.
“Sister, whatever helps us win the mission.”
She looked up, winked at the Vorbs above. Four hovered over their heads, beeping and tweaking. Elli returned her glance back to Violet. The twins joined them with eyebrows raised.
“Everything’s set up. What now?”
They looked at Violet first, because d’uh, she took the leader role now, even though Elli’s tone suggested otherwise. Violet smiled and pulled them closer into her circle.
“Now comes the hardest part. We’re going to create a live campus fashion show extravaganza.”
What a mouthful, but it did impact. The twins nodded
, only Elli squinted.
“But where are the models?”
“You’re the models.”
55
Stage, set, start.
Thanks to X, and a couple of his folks, the minimalist fashion show was open for biznass. Behind the DIY stage, and the carpet that used to be a peed-on rug in a previous life, Violet instructed her models, aka her team members, about the big event. But she knew, words are cheap, only actions are priceless. So she walked first, showing her untrained team members how to do the moves. It didn’t need to be perfect, she told them, this wasn’t the French haute-couture crowd. These were college kids and bystanders who wanted a bit of bling bling and some visual action. All of which Violet delivered par excellence. She reached the front of the stage and posed like a pro, tadaa.
In the background, X blasted the music, an upbeat high velocity track from some ancient video game. Violet moved to the rhythm, adjusted her limbs to the flow of the beat. She moved her body with the techwear, touched her eScroll and zigzagged the Vorb around her like a fairy addicted to magic dust. The college kids in front of the stage clapped, and so did the second, third, fourth and finally the fifth row. The entire crowd threw a volley of applause at her. Violet winked at her audience, returned to the back of the stage and motioned Elli Mental to take the next run.
“Don’t be afraid, you can do this,” she said.
“Who says I’m afraid?” Elli said.
She marched onto the stage as if she aimed for first prize. Small, but determined steps that stomped into the ground. Chop, chop, chop. A bit too stiff, Violet thought, but her remarkable techwear fashion and the flying Vorb would deter from the walk. It’s what her show was all about anyways. Elli returned from the walk and gave Violet a sisterly high-five. The twins strutted down the stage next. One by one, showing their shtick as they moved back together. Back and forth, with new moves, and the new Violet Gear fashion. When that idea fizzled out, Elli asked the headmaster to join the stage. Bien idea, Violet thought. The college kids in the crowd squealed and cheered on. Backstage, Violet watched the scene unfolding and noticed how the Vorb flew closer to her. A voice emerged from the device.
“Wow, you surely know how to pull a crowd.”
Violet froze.
“Laci, is that you?”
“Of course. Didn’t you recognize my trademark voice?”
“Why are you speaking through my Vorb?”
“Because I can.”
Violet struggled for the right words to say back. She didn’t need to, because Laci never ran out of things to say.
“I’m sitting in Roman’s media center and will comment during the entire show. In fact, I’m connected with every Vorb. I see everything they see. Pretty cool, eh? A watcher from above, muahahaha. By the way, you should read the comments. About eighty per minute, and they’re going gonzo, girl.”
“I don’t have time for comments, I’m running a fashion show.”
“Indeed you are, Gear girl. I have to admit, that’s a great idea, and it looks bombastic on live video. I see Roman throning a few meters next to me, and he’s giving you two sexy thumbs up. But maybe that’s because of the insane amount of live views we’re attracting.”
“Don’t tell me. I’m already in the pressure cooker,” Violet said.
“No worries, but remember what your mission goal is. You’re selling Vorbs, not your techwear collection.”
“Don’t worry, after this show, the Vorbs will practically sell themselves.”
Laci giggled through the Vorb’s speaker.
“We’ll see. Check your timer. It’s tick-tocking away.”
She tuned out from the Vorb while it switched back to normal.
“Yeah,” Violet said to herself, “it’s tocking, and I’m rocking.”
She turned back to the stage and saw half of the city in front of it. Folks flocked to her event. It looked like a hidden 3D printer puked out fifty people by the minute. What started with hundreds amassed to thousands of awed bystanders. They laughed. They gasped. And shot live footage.
Time for crowd control.
Especially when one of the vloggers showed some cool Vorb move on the stage, like when the twins maneuvered it around their bodies, like a magic snowball twerking in the air. Neither the twins nor Elli moved like Violet, but their made-up actions sufficed. After the ninth run, Violet shot her assistant X and his buddies the secret signal. Two fingers crossed on her right hand, Violet’s code language for boom, bang and shabam.
X released the fireworks and watched them detonate in the early nighttime sky. A Vorb ascended over the campus flag and filmed the colors exploding among the stars. All in glorious pixel-perfect 3D.
Back on campus, the twins handled the aftershow sales, and boy, did they flood in. They had to worry more about getting run by customers over than making enough sales. Violet looked at her team. She grinned till her cheeks hurt, but also felt the exhaustion creeping into her body. She tiptoed out the scene of mass attention and strolled towards a forgotten bench. Elli joined her with a smile as bright as the fireworks in the sky.
“What marvelous teamwork,” she said, “thanks to the brilliant idea we came up with.”
Violet held still.
We?
It was her idea, and hers alone. Elli and the twins were the executioners. Lackey, sidekicks, assistants, whatever you want to call them. They were required to get the job done, but not essential to the plan. Not like her. But when Violet glared at Elli’s eyes, she saw that freckleface smiling, she thought, let her have the ego creamed, the world saw everything live. They’d recognize the real winner.
“Thanks to our teamwork,” Violet said.
Elli moved in for the hug, true sister style. She squeezed Violet tight. Too tight for Violet’s taste, but she let it slip this time.
“We should go back and help out the twins,” she said.
Elli released her embrace, faced the campus grounds and saw the crowds overrunning the twins. Each one itching for their very own Vorb, like addicts for their next fix, because they needed one, right here, right now, no matter what.
“Yes, we better help them out,” Elli said, ”I was just about to say that.”
Sure, Violet thought, but she kept her mouth shut and nodded along. Elli smiled, grabbed Violet’s hand and guided her through the crowds. Too much touching for Violet, but she came this far today, she wasn’t going to poison the team relationship now.
“There you are, finally,” Alpha said.
She panted in rapid succession and sweat poured down her face like a waterfall of salt. No wonder, dozens of people had surrounded her and were screaming for Vorbs. Her brother tried to help her out, but even twin power couldn’t handle the line of incoming Vorb-crazed fanatics. Elli waved a dozen of them over to herself and turned into miss charming sales lady. Sales increased faster than Violet could mouth the word ‘ka-ching’. But she didn’t mind, au contraire. Everything was happening according to her prediction. In-between the sales, Elli moved closer to her and whispered.
“We’re going to win this. I mean, seriously, what in the world is the other team going to do?”
56
Place : TechTown, a semi-skyscraper on Mountain View Street.
The office suite of Mr. Jones, multi-millionaire and rabid Stax Media News consumer, a weak link connection Trigger mustered up. The vloggers and Mr. Jones negotiated, Vorb sales were on the line. Read, team Gold Crush’s mission success was on the line.
The Vorb circled around their heads, projected Laci’s voice next to Bam.
“Heya boys, I hate to spoil the fun, but time’s tocking out. And even though I’m not supposed to tell you, team V-empire is killing you in terms of sales. Like, assassin headshot stealth-kill style.”
A flush of disappointment washed over their faces. Whizzard went for the full facepalm.
“Now that’s just grrreat.”
Trigger turned to the Vorb through which Laci spoke.
“How ar
e they selling the Vorbs?”
“They’ve created a massively successful fashion show on the Sandfort college campus.”
Whizzard raised his chin.
“Fashion show? And people fall for that?”
“Like flies into the flame,” Laci said.
Whizzard whined.
“That’s how I feel now, like a fly into the flame. Because we would have made more sales If we didn’t lose so much time to mister stunt driver over here.”
Bam sighed.
“Hey, I made a mistake, it happens.”
Whizzard snorted.
“Yeah, when idiots take charge.”
Bam clutched teeth and fists. He marched up to Whizzard, ready to polish his mug with a tiger uppercut. Because, d’uh, he was asking for it. But, as always, Trigger stepped between the two and played the wall of justice.
“Hey guys, behave. We have to wrap this up. In case you forgot, we are in the middle of a sales situation.”
The boys turned back to Mr. Jones who had been watching the entire scene with his mouth shut. He sat behind his executive dark wood desk with arms crossed. Tough nut, Bam thought, but good thing he was made for cracking.
“Ok, mister Jones, you said you were going to buy twenty Vorbs, right?”
He nodded with a delay. Bam addressed the Vorb.
“Laci, if we get these additional twenty sales, will our team be in the lead?”
“Unfortunately not. Team V-empire advanced by a spaceride. Like, a galaxy away.”
“How many did they sell specifically?”
“I can’t tell you the exact numbers, but trust me when I say their numbers are huge.”
All three vloggers moaned in unison. Whizzard stomped across the office, kicked the wall.
“This is just great. So no matter how we do in this deal, we’re going to lose anyways?”
Laci said ‘yes’, Whizzard treated the trash bin like a soccer ball and shot it across the marble floor. Trash fell out and landed on the shiny ground. Mr. Jones fumbled around his collar. His face was a dark and stormy night.