MOAB � Mother Of All Boxsets

by George Saoulidis

Gal sighed and made a frappe for herself from the kitchenette. She left a mess behind. It wasn’t worse than what the boys had done already, but it wasn’t anything cleaner for sure.

  George was there, all high and mighty and important. What a malaka. He got all the important support tickets, getting asked by name by all the bigshots. ‘No, we need George to fix this, nobody else can handle it!’

  What a load of-

  Galene sucked her straw and suddenly saw George winking at her.

  Her eyes widened, and she swivelled around in her desk chair, turning her back at him. Had she inadvertently seemed to flirt while sucking on the frappe straw?

  And, more importantly, had George responded?

  Galene sent a quick text to Nat for her wisdom. Her friend lived and breathed gossip and furtive glances. Gal found it boring.

  She found many things boring.

  Boys, were boring. This job, though necessary, was very boring. Her flat was boring. Her life was boring. The studying she had to do to finally get her degree was boring. Catching up on the new computer stuff was boring.

  Boring. Boring. Boring.

  She glanced at the clock in her field of view. She had programmed her Augmented Reality eye implants to show her the time when she was at work, and count down the holy pentalepto. That was the amount of time that was holy and unassailable by any boss or support ticket or emergency, devoted only to getting one’s bearings for the start of the day by sipping his coffee.

  Five glorious minutes.

  She sipped coffee with her eyes closed.

  The pentalepto counted down to zero.

  “Gal!” her boss yelled from his office.

  Her laptop glinged. She gave her boss her ‘too tired to complain’ glare. She tapped the ticket and forced herself up to get on with it.

  Galene propped herself up on the elevator. She hated the sleek design, there was nowhere to plop yourself while spacing out. Would it hurt them to put some surfaces with a normal amount of friction coefficient? Like wood. A pillow would be best. She fought and managed to stay upright, and it was only the middle of the day.

  As soon as she stepped off the elevator her phone rang. “Yup?”

  “Gal, this is Mike. Your regular on floor 3 needs to speak with you,” he said quickly.

  Sheesh. “Patch her through.”

  “Hey, sweetie? Yeah, my computer is on the fritz again! Can you come over and fix it because I have so many files to get ready before a meeting and the manager is breathing down my neck on this.” Christy, her regular customer. Always something with her computer. But not her fault! Never!

  “Sure, tell me.”

  “I start the computer but it just beeps and doesn’t do anything.”

  “How many beeps?”

  “How man- I don’t know!”

  “Turn it on and count the beeps.”

  A pause, and shuffling. “Three beeps. Hold on. Yes, three. Definitely.”

  “Okay, Christy, give it a hard kick. On the tower, just whack it,” Galene said calmly as she walked towards her tickets with priority.

  “What? No, I can’t do that. Isn’t there a key to press or something? You know, on the keyboard. What do you guys call it? Oh, I remember! A keyboard shortcut!” she said proudly.

  “Look, Christy, I’m forty floors down and have three tickets to get to before I can even come near your office. So, you either give that computer a good kick or wait for me for about thirty-five minutes.” Gal held the phone in place with her shoulder and showed the ticket to the receptionist to let her through.

  “But what if breaks?” Christy complained with a whine.

  “Christy, it’s just the RAM. It moved a bit and it’s not touching the motherboard properly. Somebody must have moved the tower while cleaning or something. Just kick it and it will sit properly and boot up. Or open it up with a screwdriver and push the RAM.”

  Silence. “Oh, what the hell…” Then a thwack! “It’s working! Thank you, so much!” Christy exclaimed over the phone.

  “No worries,” Gal said and went on to fix another computer. Preferably without needing to kick this one.

  Chapter 7: Gregoris @ 2.4x nhs

  Feminist. Powerful. Huntress.

  Greg thought about Artemis. He had been soaking in everything about her for the past few weeks, trying to get inside her head.

  But who was he to figure out a woman, one such as she?

  Greg couldn’t even figure out his ex, so many years ago. He was frustrated and tense. Maybe he was too quick to agree on this project. Maybe he should go back to Hermes and explain the situation to him. He simply couldn’t figure the woman out!

  Melpomene touched his neck, brushing her fingers gently on his skin. He felt a bit calmer, but not by much. “Unfortunately, I don’t think you are focused today, Greg,” she declared in quicktalk.

  “Yes. You’re right. It’s, ah… Not a good day.”

  “Did you get enough sleep?”

  “Yes, six full hours. I feel rested, it’s not that. It’s the assignment.” Greg pushed some stuff from his desk away from him.

  “Time for a distraction then?” Melpomene said naughtily.

  Greg pffted. “Sure. Fine. It’s not like I’m getting anything done today anyways.”

  “Blonde? Redhead? Or the regular one?” Mel asked, picking up the phone.

  “Whatever. Blonde. No! Brunette. Yes, something normal. No augmentations. And young, twenty-something. Don’t know why,” he mumbled in quicktalk.

  Mel raised an eyebrow, but simply acknowledged, “Coming right up.” Then she ordered a VIP call girl on the phone.

  Chapter 8: Galene @ 0.7x nhs

  “Can’t talk right now, I’m in the dude’s place,” Galene mumblewhispered on her phone.

  “The penthouse? How is it? Tell me details,” Nat demanded over the phone.

  “It’s… expensive. Very stylish, modern. Lots of nerd stuff, gadgets. Old electronics, expensive ones. He also has a Muse, you know, the ones they give only to the most important people with creativity problems. She’s behind me right now, dusting the place.”

  “Are you fixing his computer?” Nat said with innuendo dripping all over the words.

  “Yes,” Galene mumbled. “Just waiting on an update. So, what about the other thing I told you about this morn-”

  Galene stopped talking and covered the phone for silence. She tilted her head and heard noises from another room.

  “Hey! Can you hear me?” Nat complained.

  “I think someone is already fixing his computer.”

  “Wait, I’m confused. Are we talking about that guy George or Greg?”

  “Greg. Someone is…” Galene stopped. There was moaning coming from another room. Clear sounds of lovemaking. The girl was overacting. Galene pointed her phone towards the room.

  “God yes, oh, you’re so big, godyesgodyesgodyes. Ah, ah, AH!” the girl screamed in delight.

  Galene couldn’t help but smile. She glanced at the Muse, who was pretending not to pay attention to her. Lady, you’re not that human yet.

  “Are you guys getting it on right now?” Nat asked incredulous.

  “No, don’t be silly. I’m working,” Gal whispered.

  “So’s she!” Nat burst into laughter.

  Gal smiled and bit her lips. “Okay, good one.” She leaned forward, “Hey, gotta go.”

  She carried on the update the Muse told her about and fixed Greg’s workstation.

  A girl with bed-hair showed up and waived goodbye as she left. Mel escorted her (snort) to the door. Galene froze. She could have sworn the call girl was pretty much a body-double for her. Rather short, brunette, average curves, ordinary clothes, nothing too revealing, nice face but nothing that would make a photographer reach for his camera. A solid 200 likes or so in selfies, with cleavage. Nothing more.

  Gal scratched her face with the corner of her laptop.

  Greg showed up at the door, with casual grey clothes. He was heading blindly to his w
orkstation, so he stopped abruptly when he saw Gal. “Hey! I… didn’t know you were here.”

  Mel interrupted, “I thought we should use the time to get that issue updated, the one with the AI data parsing?”

  Greg rubbed his neck, “Yes. Good call. Right.” He didn’t make eye contact with Gal after that. “Can I offer you something? Coffee? Tea? Cocktail?” he chuckled. “I won’t tell your boss if you won’t tell mine.”

  Gal squinted. “Aren’t they one and the same?”

  “Yes,” he admitted, making coffee in the kitchen next door.

  “And isn’t the android recording everything we say and do around here?” Gal added.

  “Who, Mel? Nah. The Muses work on top-secret stuff all the time, their memories are quadruptly encrypted and never touched by humans. But I guess you know these things better than me,” Greg said from the kitchen.

  “I’m still new,” Gal explained.

  Greg showed up with a tray of steaming Greek coffee and sugar cubes and milk. He placed it next to her on his workstation. “How new is that?”

  “One year,” Gal said and made her coffee. “Thanks,” she sipped.

  “One year,” Greg echoed. Was he nervous? Embarrassed about what she might have heard? Galene wasn’t sure, but he was certainly delaying, looking for time to think.

  “Doesn’t she get coffee?” Galene prodded, nodding to the side.

  “Who? Mel?”

  “No,” Gal said with patience. “The other girl. The one who just walked out of here.”

  “Oh,” Greg said, looking around nervously. “Well, she didn’t want any,” he shrugged.

  “Did you ask her?” Gal said, her lips trembling in an effort not to smile.

  He clicked his tongue. “Well… I did not, to be honest,” Greg mumbled. He looked everywhere except her face.

  “Maybe if you had, she’d join us. She was after all worshipping you only minutes ago,” Gal taunted flatly.

  Greg couldn’t sit still. He fumbled for words and Gal enjoyed it. “Okay, listen,” he finally blurted out, “it’s efficient. I get a call girl, she shows up, I… relieve tension, and she leaves. It’s a clean, honest transaction. None of that flirting around, wasting time, getting blue balls, or getting frustrated.”

  Gal bit her lip. She wasn’t irritated at all. After all, calmness was her name. But she enjoyed teasing him, so she stayed silent for a while. She could see his face shifting from one expression to the next, struggling with excuses and handwaives.

  “Look, I can explain,” he started talking.

  “Why would you need to explain yourself to me?” she interrupted flatly. “I’m just here for the workstation.”

  “Yes, but…”

  “You’ve got no time for flirting around, wasting time, all that crap,” she waved away. “You’re all for efficient, clean fornication.”

  Greg stared at her, his expression that of physical pain.

  She couldn’t help it. She laughed so hard. “Oh my gods! Oh. I shouldn’t have said those things, what is wrong with me?” she laughed, drinking some water.

  Greg sagged down on one of his couches. “You’re making fun of me,” he nodded.

  “I’m sorry. It was so funny, seeing you squirm!” She mocked his voice, “I relieve tension.”

  “Shuddup…”

  “Oh, my gods. Is it always this funny up here? Or am I getting oxygen deprivation and stuff?” Gal looked around.

  Greg got into the kitchen. “I’m getting you a cookie, perhaps that will make you shut up.”

  He brought back an enormous chocolate cookie with a napkin and she bit it instantly, throwing crumbs all over his workstation.

  “Get the- Nevermind,” he said and threw himself in his couch again. “How’s my computer?”

  “It’s sooo big,” she said with cookie in her mouth, laughing. She chocked for a second. Crumbs fell all over herself and she covered her mouth, still chuckling.

  Greg covered his face and sank low.

  Chapter 9: Galene @ 0.6x nhs

  “Why the hell is she getting called up on the penthouse?” George yelled at the boss. He was pointing back at Galene.

  “Hey, calm down,” their boss said and shut the door.

  The IT crew was pretending to work on stuff on their screens but they kept glancing up at the office window. George, the IT superstar was yelling, Mike was waving his hands around, making excuses.

  Petros rolled his chair next to Galene, holding a hard drive and a screwdriver. “Hey, I see you stole the bone right off the big dog’s mouth.”

  “I didn’t steal nothing!” Galene complained.

  Petros tightened some of the screws. “Sure, sure.”

  “Hey, I just happened to be here yesterday when they sent a ticket. I was even late getting back home.”

  “I hear ya,” he nodded. He blew on the drive. “Must have made quite an impression up there. You know the stories, right?”

  “What stories?” Galene spat out.

  “Oh, you know. Special privileges. Curvy robotic assistants. Stuff,” he shrugged, admiring his work.

  Galene had seen those special privileges, but she didn’t want to fuel the rumours. “I saw nothing of the sort. And the assistant is not that curvy.”

  Petros raised his eyes at her. “So you did check her out? Huh. Didn’t expect that from you.”

  “Petros, please go and stick your hard drive where it belongs,” she said, turning her back.

  “Gladly,” he said and rolled back to his desk, slapping the drive into place with a practised motion.

  The fight in the office ended and George stormed out towards the cafeteria, eyeing Galene with anger.

  What a malaka.

  “Gal!” her boss shouted.

  Her shoulders sagged.

  Chapter 10: Gregoris @ 3.2x nhs

  Greg felt himself going into the groove again. He had a few bouts of polyphasic sleep and was immersed in information about Artemis.

  Her real name was Viktoriya Marchenko, of Ukrainian origin. Powerful body, short hair, dressed in unisex tailored clothes. A vocal feminist. Exclusively heterosexual, a pure zero on the Kinsey scale. Never married, never planning to. Surrogate mother to a hundred warriors.

  Her only indulgence seemed to be big game hunting. She’d frequently go into safaris, bringing down animals single-handed. It was somewhat frowned upon so she balanced the fact with large donations to charities that handled cloning and protection of wild animals.

  The most viral picture of her was from her Olympian athlete days when she received a gold medal. The picture was of her scrunching her cute nose on the bowstring as she pulled and concentrated on the winning shot. It was a pose that was powerful and archetypal, like the one of the Discobolus of Myron. She wore her characteristic little fishing hat with cartoons on it, and had one of her breasts covered with a chest guard.

  Everyone knew that photo.

  She wasn’t that cute nowadays. Close to forty but still youthful, her recent photos showed a powerful, weathered woman in a world of powerful men. Artemis had negotiated deals with the topmost Israeli security firms, protecting the rich and the powerful around the world.

  Athens had become a frequent hub of negotiations, either public or private. And when important people wanted to meet, it was Artemis’ job to get them there safely and bring them back the same.

  Artemis was… Unconventional. More hands-on than the rest of the Olympian CEOs. Compared to her, the rest could be considered cowards, hiding behind desks and sending operators to do the dirty work. She had personally negated at least eleven assassination attempts.

  At a very young age she was sought out by the Artemis Corporation and was hired as a local brand ambassador for sports related services. When the Russians bombed and invaded the shit out of her home country while the world sat back and twiddled their thumbs, she demanded a more central seat in the corporation and she got it.

  Right at the centre of the Olympian table.

&nb
sp; The title of Artemis practically fell on her head like a golden crown.

  Not that she didn’t deserve it, Greg admitted. She rearranged the corporation from the ground up, creating a fanatical base of employees that made it impossible to attempt any sort of corporate espionage. Coupled with excellent relations with the Apollo corp, her employees were happy and healthy and disgustingly loyal. There had been only two instances of employees leaving the corp, and the first one some would call a promotion by going to Zeus’ innermost circle of lieutenants.

  But what was she planning? That’s what Hermes wanted to know. She had bought stocks in every automotive company in the world. If it had wheels, if it rode on land, Artemis pretty much owned it.

  Greg kept rewinding her interviews, but he doubted she’d slip up and talk about her plans. She wasn’t one to boast. She boasted by hanging lion heads in her office, by notches in her belt. She let others keep track of the score.

  He sang on his couch, letting an interview play in the background. He shifted his focus from her words to the intonation of her voice. The accent was barely noticeable. Her tone was that of a woman used to giving orders. Her voice wasn’t that of a cute little girl anymore, but it still bore the same titanic amount of discipline as her athlete years.

  Why was she such a threat to Hermes?

  The question popped up in his mind out of nowhere. Threat, yes. He hadn’t realised that up to this moment. She was a threat to Hermes somehow. That was one more data point. One that he wasn’t considering before. Hermes hadn’t said a word about it. But there was practically no overlap in the two corporations, which was rare indeed. Hermes was all about patents, information, computers, AI, drones, a bit of professional athlete sponsorships, and some hush-hush black market trade.

  Somehow she was encroaching into territory that Hermes held, or desired to hold.

  Greg slapped his forehead.

  Athletes.

  Motherfucking, goddamn athletes.

  That was it.

  Could it be simply about pride? Greg knew Hermes personally. Yes, he decided, it definitely could. If you were to make a device that measured the megalomania of these people, it would simply blow up in surrender.