Blogbuster: A Sci-Fi Thriller

by Mars Dorian

  “What’s going on?”

  “We’re under attack,” the tall one said.

  Like, d’uh. And Bam thought they were celebrating national Bomb the Blogbuster Day. But the sec guys didn’t stay for chitchat, they either tried to calm down the screaming folks or tried to find the source of attack. As far as Bam could tell, they sucked at both tasks. So he ignored them all, walked through the hallways and wondered when the Blogbuster show would start again. Was Stax going to reschedule the final mission to a later hour, or even to another day? None of the passing people could tell him — they were too busy screaming their lungs out. He even wanted to stop one of the crew members, but the second he turned to one, he heard that awfully familiar bounce sound effect again.

  Smoke grenades inbound.

  Bam sighed.

  Like, what the click.

  Back in the day, vlogging was all about acting dorky on video.

  Now it seemed to require a masters degree in urban warfare.

  126

  Roman Stax dashed towards through the second floor, looking for Laci, when he saw a group of security officers approaching him. That was the opportunity to sort things out.

  “What the heck is going on? he said.

  The security officer stood up.

  “Sir, we haven’t found the perpetrators yet, but we assume some of the fans are armed. They are using smoke grenades and firearms to wreak havoc. They’ve already breached the perimeter.”

  “Perimeter?”

  “They’ve entered the building, sir.”

  “Then why the hell are you standing around chitchatting with me?”

  “Sir, I’ve already ordered a group to take care of the first floor. We’ve come to your aid — it’s not safe around here. Let us escort you to the top floor till the police arrives.”

  Roman Stax nodded. It seemed like the logical thing to do.

  “Let’s go,” he said and moved towards the elevator.

  The security officer halted.

  “Sir, do you think it’s smart to use the elevator in times of emergency?”

  “Don’t worry, I’ve got special access to the top floor. A bunch of savagery fans won’t be able hack it.”

  “Very well,” the security officer said.

  He and his men shielded Stax like bodyguards. They moved into the elevator where Roman activated the secret access to the top floor of the BBB. The doors closed, they ascended.

  Stax sighed and felt his shoulders slump. A ton of tension left but two tons remained.

  “Man, talking about bad timing. Why in the world would Whizzard hit the girl at the beginning of the announcement. He always seemed nutso, but in a calculated way.”

  The security officer nodded in unison with his men.

  “Maybe he’s fed up with the show. It stirs great controversy, sir.”

  “That’s the point,” Stax said.

  “Is it?”

  Stax ignored the guy. Closed his eyes and focused on his breath. He wondered where the hell Laci went. And why she didn’t pick up his call. Wondered a lot of things, till the beep sound brought him back to reality.

  Top floor, the elevator door slid open. Stax moved out, followed by his security guards. He aimed for his office, when the officer grabbed his arm.

  “Sir, I think we should go to the media center.”

  Stax frowned.

  “Now why in the world would I want to go there?”

  “Because I have a gun pointed at you.”

  127

  Stax froze. His heartbeat hammered at a highspeed for the first time. He watched the security officer pointing the repeater pistol at his face. It was surreal, just like the whole spectacle happening in and around the Blogbuster Building.

  “Get that thing out of my face,” Stax said.

  He forced as much as authority into his voice as he could, but under the circumstances, read : four rogue security men against one mediapreneur, the chances of survival were slim to none.

  “He’s not going to, Mr. Stax,” the sec guy in the last row said.

  He stepped forward and took off his helmet.

  It was Trigger.

  “Remember me?”

  Stax sighed.

  “What an unpleasant surprise.”

  Trigger smiled like a boy who just pulled off a big magic trick.

  “Let’s have a little walk towards the media center and I’ll explain it to you.”

  Stax didn’t want to have a little walk towards the media center. He wanted to disarm the fake security guy, grab the repeater pistol and shove it up Trigger’s nose. But he sucked at physical fighting, and everyone knew.

  So he took a little walk with them to the media center.

  Trigger walked behind Stax.

  “How’s your surveillance show coming along?”

  Stax hesitated.

  “I don’t know what kind of rubbish you’re talking about.”

  “Of course not. Looks like I have to show it to you.”

  They arrived in front of the armored media center door.

  “Open it,” Trigger said.

  Stax hesitated, part II.

  The guy in the security armor didn’t. He nudged the back of Stax’ head with his repeater barrel.

  Roman didn’t want to open it, but he also didn’t want to die. So he moved his face close to the scanner next to the door. A laser flashed across the screen, scanned Roman’s impeccable albeit sweaty face. Biometric access deluxe. Beeping sounds accompanied by a sexy female confirmation voice appeared. The mighty door opened up. Trigger and his folks shoved Stax inside and gazed around the room. The interior was a lab-like chamber with state-of-the-art computers and wall-sized monitors. It looked like the commander bridge of a spaceship. Two folks in uniform sat inside and craned their worried faces towards the intruders. Before they could even think about activating the alarm, Trigger’s team members immobilized them.

  Trigger nodded and whistled as he wiped his index finger across the terminal. Sick, but slick.

  “The heart of mass surveillance. Spying on people never looked more stylish.”

  He dragged Stax towards the terminal and made him kneel down.

  “Still want to play dumb, Stax?”

  “It’s just the media room, what’s the big deal?”

  Trigger closed his eyes, took a deep breath.

  “The big deal is you’ve used the popularity of the video bloggers to mass market your video orb to the public. Now that would be just a marketing scam, except your little Vorb isn’t just a mobile computing device, but a fully-fledged surveillance gadget that uploads every recording directly onto your server. Or should I say, the government’s server?”

  Pause.

  “In a way, Big Brother isn’t watching us, we are watching ourselves for the Big Brother.”

  Trigger looked at sweaty McSweat Stax and grinned.

  “Tell me if I’m wrong, but do it fast. Time’s running out. For you.”

  Stax closed his eyes, kept his mouth shut. Trigger didn’t.

  “What’s the matter? Since when is the sociable Stax experiencing talker’s block?”

  “Listen, you wannabe, do-gooding rebel. Don’t give me this preachy speech about evil government and corporations. You’re a little Internet slacktivist who doesn’t understand the bigger picture.”

  “Oh, but I do understand the bigger picture, Stax. I’m protecting the freedom of every citizen, you’re taking it away.”

  Stax spat on the floor. Not because he needed to, but because he wanted to make a point.

  “People don’t give a shit about freedom, they care about security. They want tomorrow to be as safe as today, and the only way to ensure that is by having the good people in power watching over them.”

  Trigger rolled his eyes.

  “Good people? Like you? Spying on citizens and turning this city into a police watch state where everyone is a potential suspect. Collecting their data, their secrets, for what? To shut them down once th
ey disagree with the people in power?”

  Stax just stared at him, eyes as bright as laser beams.

  “Oooh, preachmaster Trigger is on the microphone, please, everyone, give him an applause. Because damn, he protects privacy, PRIVACY.”

  He collected the spit in his mouth.

  “Listen, you slacktivist. Even if you make it out of here alive and tell the world about what we’re doing, it’s not going to change a thing. Sure, for a few months, the media will go wild. They’ll blog about the totalitarian government and the evil corporation spying on citizens. Breaking news galore, but then people will get used to it, because they’re lazy, and they’re gonna say, yeah, it sucks, but it is what it is. And then they’re back in their sheeple rut as if nothing happened. And everything will be just fine.”

  Stax grinned.

  “Most people are sheep who want to stay sheep, because it’s safe. Fewer are shepherds who watch over the sheep and ensure the horde is under control. It’s always been that way, Trigger, the only difference is we have better technology today.”

  “But not for long,” Trigger said.

  He grabbed a stick from his side pocket.

  “We have worked on a little surprise, thanks to the invaluable input some of your trusted employees shared with us.”

  “You don’t have the access codes,” Stax said.

  Trigger smiled.

  “I’m afraid we do, Mr. Stax. You see, not everyone who worked for you really worked for you.”

  Stax frowned. Trigger enjoyed that a little too much.

  “I know it’s hard for an egomaniac to believe it, but there are some women who can withstand you.”

  Stax moaned as he realized which person just betrayed the ballooney out of him. Trigger shifted his attention from the mediapreneur to his trusted partner, Nick. He threw him the stick. Nick inserted it into the terminal’s slot and accessed the central Vorb operating system. His fingers moved in flashes as he massaged the keyboard in hundred hits per minute. Menu after menu popped up. Nick smiled as he hacked into the Vorb operating system.

  Months of preparation made this a breeze. Trigger threw a dismissive look at Stax who was still kneeling on the ground, with the repeater pistol shoved against his head.

  “Stax, do you know what happens to intoxicated birds?”

  Roman kept his grimace on and his mouth shut. Trigger didn’t mind, it was a rhetorical question anyways.

  “They fall from the sky.”

  128

  Bam wandered around the Blogbuster Building floor like a zombie counting his last two brain cells. Crew members, security folks and fans dashed him by, but he didn’t care. As far as Bam was concerned, he was walking down the limbo lane all alone. He couldn’t believe there was so much chaos from a little fan turmoil.

  One security guy stopped in front of him.

  “Son, do you know what’s going on? Leave this building at once.”

  Bam froze. No word, no reaction, he just kept on walking. The security guy shook his head and moved on.

  Just like everyone around.

  Bam just kept strolling. He passed around another corner and noticed Laci Steem entering her suite, so he followed her. Because he needed to know.

  Knock knock.

  Laci grabbed some stuff from her closet and pressed it into her bags. Bam said,

  “Knock knock.”

  She turned to him with Manga-eyes wide open.

  “Bam.”

  “What about the show?” he said.

  “The show?”

  “Blogbuster. What’s happening now — are we still going to do the last mission or are you going to postpone it?”

  She froze in her motion, as if someone pushed the pause button.

  Only her face moved — into a grimace, the You-Didn’t-Get-The-Memo-Grimace.

  “Bam, the show’s freaking over. Do you realize what’s going on behind the scenes?”

  He walked up to her.

  “But I was winning. I was going to become Stax’ Head of Online Content. If you don’t believe me, look at all the fan responses. They wanted me.”

  “Too bad,” she said and took her belongings.

  “Too bad? That’s it? After all of my efforts? After all the crashing, all the Vorbs I sold, after all your dumb branding videos I had to go through, over and over again. ‘Too bad’ is all you got for me?”

  She squinted.

  “Sorry to break it for ya, but it’s a tough world. And it doesn’t owe you a living.”

  “It does. I have a crazy hospital bill to pay, and I have millions of fans who want to see me succeed. This is my destiny.”

  “Whatever.”

  She took her case when Bam grabbed her arm.

  “Talk to Stax, tell him to postpone the task to another day. Heck, I can help you guys.”

  “Please, let go of me,” Laci said.

  “Please, just talk to him.”

  She hissed.

  “Bam, don’t go borderline on me now. I told you — the show is over. You have no clue what’s really going on.”

  Bam, with the blankest expression of the universe on his face, kept his tight grip. She screamed. A voice so shrill it was about to break the wall-sized windows.

  “Security. Security.”

  “I’m not going to hurt you, Laci. I just want to know. Please. Tell me.”

  But she didn’t.

  Instead, more screams for security.

  And indeed, one showed up. A tall, goliath of a guy in riot armor who ran by the door and stopped when he saw Bam squeezing Laci’s arm. He stood still and locked eyes on Bam. Fighting stance included.

  Bam released a loud sigh.

  “I wasn’t going to hurt her, I swear. I just wanted to know when the show would start again.”

  “Whatever,” Laci said.

  She freed herself, took her belongings and dashed off. The security guy stood in the doorframe and raised his baton. Laci moved around him and left the two guys alone.

  “Come with me, son,” the security guy said.

  “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “I understand, just come with me. Everything’s going to be okay,” the guy said.

  Bam swallowed. Focused his glance on the security guy’s right arm.

  “If everything’s going to be okay, then why are you grabbing your baton?

  The sec guy approached Bam with the baton raised. Bam moved right into stance. His battle instinct awoke.

  “You’re making me nervous, put that thing down.”

  Because Bam and batons, they don’t go together.

  But the sec guy marched on.

  Bam clutched his teeth.

  Deja vu from hell.

  Bam sweat, felt his heartbeat hammering. Instinct shot up with the adrenaline. He ran at the sec guy who swung his baton. Boys being boys — they battled it out with masculine energy in the form of fists and kicks. The sec guy wanted to hit Bam, but he evaded his blows. Bam aimed for the face, but unlike the armored freak, this sec guy knew some basic melee skills. They wrestled, rammed the wall and crashed into the desk. Beat, sweep and repeat. When the sec guy missed a baton swing, Bam ducked sideways and kicked the guy in his knee pit. The sec guy staggered, but instead of cringing, he rammed his baton into Bam’s stomach. He collapsed and coughed up the pain. The sec guy picked up Bam by the collar, which he answered with a well-placed head smash. They went wrestlemode again. The sec guy tried to put Bam into a headlock, and Bam, now with his eyes closed, forced his entire energy into his legs to escape the strong grip. He pushed the security with maximum force into the wall, except it wasn’t the wall he pushed him into. It was the wall-sized window.

  Glass shattered around their sweaty bodies.

  Bam, security guy, meet the air.

  Air, meet Bam and the security guy.

  129

  Fast fly down.

  Bam and the security guy smashed down into the compound like a sack of ripe tomatoes. Their thud made a mushy so
und effect. The pain followed up, and boy, it came with a vengeance. Bam felt a new definition of ache, felt how it tore apart his body, felt as if a titanium hammer hit his bones to mush.

  Bang. Slam. The Bam.

  Blood everywhere.

  And his right leg and left arm? Angled, but into the wrong direction. He looked like a disfigured crash test dummy bathing in tomato sauce. And sure felt like it. Bam coughed up the red sauce. Heard people screaming in the background, but the sound faded like his vision. Still, he could recognize basic shapes. He definitely recognized the Vorb flying over his bloody body. A circle-shaped paparazzi vulture descending for the pixelperfect shot.

  Bam coughed up more blood.

  Wondered if they were still live, wondered if his fans were watching him right now. He wanted to raise his fist and do the Bam pose, but couldn’t, because he lost control of his arms. They laid around like spaghetti noodles soaking up the red sauce around him.

  The Vorb flew closer to him. Bam saw its lens, it was beautiful. So he lifted his heavy head and tried to smile.

  Because of his fans.

  “Merde.”

  A female voice said, Bam recognized it. Couldn’t tilt his head, but he didn’t need to, either. The girl came into view, looked down on him.

  “What happened?” she said.

  “Hey, Violet, looking good,” Bam said.

  Just because your life was vanishing didn’t mean your manners should.

  “I’m gonna call the ambulance,” she said.

  And she did. Violet was calm, but with a flavor of anxiety. More than him, that was for sure.

  Bam wanted to nod, but couldn’t. His head still too heavy. He wanted to say something, but when numb pain and blood mixed with his saliva, he experienced talker’s block. So he focused all his strength and energy to form a sentence.

  “Vwz,” he said.

  “What?”

  “Vwz,” Bam said.

  Violet frowned, raised her eyebrows.

  Bam groaned. Took his last level of strength and focused it on his mouth like a zen master.

  “Views,” he said.

  “Views?” she said.