Pie Box 1

by George Saoulidis

  The slushie was cold, condensation gathering all over the shaker. She put her lips on the straw and took a sip. “Yup, it’s sweet. It’s not that good.”

  “What was it supposed to be?”

  Pickle took an ‘are you kidding me,’ pose. “Sour, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  She licked her lips, tasting it around. “There’s a relish-like aftertaste that sticks around. This drink isn’t made for pickle-lovers.”

  “Really? Damn. Throw it away then.” He reached for the cooler.

  “Fuck, no!” she complained, pulling it away.

  He chuckled. “Okay. So, what do they want?” He spun the ARO and read it out loud. “Dear Patricia Georgiou, we would be honoured if you and your owner tasted our new slushie flavour and agreed to a sponsorship by us. We have attached the terms of the proposed contract, but we really want to work with you, so please get back to us with any concerns you may have and we’ll do our best to smooth them over.”

  Pickle’s eyes went wide. “This means... This means that I...”

  Hector smiled wide and nodded. “That you just got a sponsorship!”

  Pickle let out a laugh of joy and then choked it down. She raised an augmented finger. “Don’t say it.”

  Hector leaned on the wall and raised his shoulders, looking all smug. “I was just gonna say-”

  “Don’t you say it!” Pickle grabbed the cooler box in a tight hug and darted towards her room.

  “Seriously, all I was gonna say was-”

  “Don’t, fucking, say it!” she screamed across the rooms.

  “I told you so!” Hector shouted, obviously feeling full of himself.

  She kicked her door shut.

  “A ‘thank you, Hector,’ would be nice, you know. Since I told you so!” he shouted.

  Pickle bit down her reply.

  She could hear his footsteps coming all the way to her door. He spoke through it, his voice coming in muffled. “Are we gonna reject the sponsorship then?”

  “Are we suddenly made of money? Of course not!” she scoffed. “Just open the door.”

  Hector peeked in. “I agree, obviously,” he said. “Then what do we do? You can’t endorse a product you don’t like.”

  “Easy. I’m gonna go to their offices and tell them what they need to fix. It’s gonna be amazing!”

  “Ouch, I’m feeling sorry for them already,” Hector winced, then shut the door and left.

  Pickle crawled on her bed and held the bundle of piss-coloured ice in her arms. She took another sip. Mmm, no. Still too sweet. Yeap, she was definitely gonna fix this product.

  DROP SIXTY-SEVEN

  Hector knew what her vote would be, he could see it in her sparkling eye. The other one was augmented, so it wasn’t really that expressive to begin with. He didn’t really know how the sponsorships worked, so he sent a question to Tony, and he replied with the instructions. It was pretty easy, pretty much a blockchain contract like any other. He went over it a couple of times with Tony’s simplified language script and found it all right. No hidden addenda, no weird loopholes that he could see. These guys seemed to really want this deal. He said, “Fuck it,” took a swig of ouzo and accepted it.

  He waited a couple of minutes for the confirmations and then checked Pickle’s stats:

  Name

  Patricia Georgiou

  Alias

  Pickle

  Strength

  2

  Speed

  1

  Strategy

  3

  Sexiness

  1

  Cup Size

  D

  Augmentations

  22%

  Team

  Pies

  Position

  Enforcer (Sword and Shield)

  Wins

  4

  Losses

  71

  Income

  5500

  Sponsorships

  Pickle Juice Slushies

  A thousand euro more every month, added just like that to her account. He could definitely work with that. Especially with all the hidden costs of owning a team. It was crazy, they needed shit he hadn’t even thought about. Logos, websites, streaming services, social media managers, and he was contractually obligated to the Cyberpink tournament to provide them. Peeping toms needed a keyhole to peep from, you see. You had to make it large enough, and searchable online in neat, drop-down menus of decreasing lewdness. Thankfully, Tony was all too eager to fix everything for him. He had practically become indispensable, Hector didn’t even know where the team’s website was hosted, let alone go and work on it. Well, the man might be insufferable at times, but he was a wizard with computers. And he was drooling all over his keyboard since he started being around Cyberpink athletes all day. Hector decided to let the man have his kink. He would delay some payments for now, but he’d pay the man his fair share. He was doing things Hector hadn’t even thought about. He had linked newsfeeds and automations that Hector didn’t even understand. All the lecherous fanboys would be notified that second of the update in sponsorship, they’d soon put in their orders online. Pickle-coloured fanboy tongues, that was a funny thing to imagine.

  Hector shook his head. A weird world to live in, that was certain.

  He stood up, looked out the window, down at the illuminated street. People were still walking around, despite the shops being closed at this hour. Of course, trade didn’t stop just because the government-appointed schedule was over. Hector spotted the usual drug-dealer at the corner, just a kid, barely 17-years old. And, predictably, there was a young girl chatting him up, about to score a hit. She had short hair and a nice figure and was dragging a travel bag behind-

  Fucking Cherry.

  Hector dashed down the stairs and went outside, then crossed the street. “Hey, Mike,” he said casually.

  “Hey, Mr. Troy. What’s up?” the confused youth said, his eyes darting around. They both knew Hector wasn’t his usual customer.

  “Oh, everything is fine. Oh, hey Cherry, didn’t notice you there.” Hector leaned on the streetlamp.

  Cherry scowled at him. “If you came down here to stop me-”

  Hector raised a hand. “Let me actually stop you right there. I don’t really care. But I do know that this young entrepreneur over here deals in crap merchandise with people who are new to the neighbourhood.” He slowly turned to Mike, meeting his gaze.

  He was terrified. “Mr, Troy, I’d never! Honestly.” He snatched the blow back from Cherry’s hand and swapped it with another. Turning to her, he said, “Next time, lead with the fact that you’re Mr. Troy’s acquaintance, okay love?”

  Cherry crossed her arms and looked to the side. “Whatever.”

  “All done here? Come on upstairs, Patty has been waiting for you all day, she was worried about you.”

  Cherry followed him for a couple of steps and then planted her feet on the pavement. “What are you gonna do, lecture me? Take it away from me?”

  Hector turned to her, and put his palms up in the air. “You’re what, twenty-two years old? That means you’re an adult. And no, to be honest, I’d prefer it if you wouldn’t do drugs in my house. But if the alternative is you hanging out in the street, whacked out in some alley, then by all means, come inside. Seriously, Patty has been pacing up and down all day, she’s been driving me crazy.”

  He took off and Cherry still stood there.

  “I’m going inside, the door is open for when you make up your mind,” Hector said loudly, walking away.

  An audible pout later he heard the travel bag skid across the street towards him.

  DROP SIXTY-EIGHT

  “Cherry!” Pickle exclaimed and hugged her, no, squeezed her tight.

  “Hi. I’m here. Yay,” Cherry said with a forced smile.

  “Finally! I was worried, you never texted back. Nevermind, let me show you around. This is the house, and this is...”

  Pickle droned on and on about the place, looking giddy. C
herry didn’t want to sour her mood, but she just wasn’t feeling it. Sure, she trusted her friend, and she was somewhat certain this wasn’t a trap of some kind, but she had been burned too many times already. She couldn’t help but wait for the other shoe to drop.

  “This is the kitchen, it’s pretty much our meeting room. This is Hector’s ouzo, there’s a standard supply of it if you can stand it. This cupboard is my pickle pantry, you can have as much as you like.” She snatched an entire pickle jar.

  “Gee, thanks...” Cherry chuckled.

  “And this is our room. We’ll sleep together for tonight and we’ll go and get you a bed first-thing tomorrow morning, all right?”

  Cherry shrugged and left her carry bag at the corner. Pickle was giddy, pointing things left and right. “This is the bathroom, we can use the upstairs one. Hector left it for us alone. And this is the storeroom, don’t ever touch anything in there, it’s all dusty boxes anyway. This is Hector’s room, and now we go downstairs.” Three steps from the bottom, she sat down and whispered the rest. “This spot is the best to take a peek of Hector while he works without bothering him. It’s a nice view while having a snack.” Pickle bit down on a pickle and watched.

  Hector was indeed topless, sweating over his forge. It was a high-tech forge built for precision work that could even make spaceship parts, but it was still hot as fuck. A chimney made of graphene-based metamaterials carried the heat away and outside. He was crafting parts for his armours, doing heavy work at one moment, banging on metal with hammers and pouring molten alloys in molds, and the next moment he was doing delicate needlework, blending the soft and the tough material in a perfect amalgamation.

  Cherry watched too, and absent-mindedly accepted a pickle from the jar and munched on it. Hector looked like Hephaistos, working over his forge. But instead of the short, bulky Olympian CEO, this one was tall, lean, with muscles built for work, nothing like the puffy bodybuilder type. The girls watched as the muscles rippled and contracted, directing each blow of the hammer at the precise location he was aiming for. Cherry could see that there were no do-overs, no missed blows, no waste of material. It was like watching a painter land each brushstroke at the precise angle and placement to end up with a masterpiece. A painter with a hammer and lean, glinting muscles and dark hair and a short beard, and the brush of a hairy chest ending in a line of more dark hair on his lower stomach that went down into his pants... After a long moment, she whispered, “I was totally gonna make fun of you at first, but I can definitely see the appeal.”

  They both munched on more pickles, enjoying the view in silence.

  “Forgot to get some pads, can you spare any?” Cherry said, getting undressed in their room.

  Pickle smirked and pointed at the closet. “Open that one.”

  Cherry did so, and as soon as she opened it a pile of pads and tampons and every kind of period-care product fell on the floor around her feet. She yelped, “What?! Oh, you planned that, didn’t you? Haha. Very funny, how mature of you. What’s all this anyway?” She picked one box from the pile.

  Pickle put on some comfy jammies and hugged her legs close to her. “Hector didn’t know what to get me, so he bought two of everything.”

  Cherry tsked. “Aww, that’s adorable!”

  Pickle chuckled and brought a second pillow.

  “So... have you two... you know? Done something?” Cherry asked, going towards the toilet.

  “Do what?”

  Cherry stopped, then mimicked a finger in the hole, going in and out.

  Pickle’s eyes went wide. “No! Unh-uh. Nope.”

  Cherry tilted her head to the side. “Really? I thought otherwise.”

  “No!” Pickle squealed. “Why would I?” she protested in a high-pitched voice.”

  Cherry squinted at her. “So... You don’t mind if I...” She moved her finger around, pointing in places.

  “All yours.” Pickle shook her head vigorously.

  Returning from the bathroom, Cherry found Pickle holding her bag of blow. There was a deep frown on the fleshy side of her face. Cherry tried to shrug it away, “I... uh, wasn’t going to take it. I don’t know what I was thinking, really. I was out there, about to come here, I panicked.”

  “You panicked and went to buy drugs?” Pickle said, sighing softly.

  “Yes. I thought I was just going into the same situation by a different owner. It was one final act of defiance, you know?”

  “Not really, no,” Pickle said simply, placing the bag of drugs back on the dresser.

  “It sounds stupid to me as well now that I said it out loud. I know I should have trusted you, you said it was great here, and I wanted to believe it. I still do... It’s just...” Cherry sat on the bed and covered her face.

  Pickle hugged her. “I know, Caroline. I know.”

  Feeling safe and loved for the first time in ages, held in the arms of a mother-figure, Cherry let the tears fall and sobbed quietly. Pickle just held her there, brushing Cherry’s hair with her fingers, humming softly. She kissed her on the forehead. “You’re safe now. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  Cherry then let it all out, bawling her eyes out.

  A while later, they both crawled into bed. A giddy Pickle hugged her tight, “I’m the big spoon.”

  “Why do you get to be the big spoon?” Cherry complained, not really meaning it.

  “’Cause I’m older,” Pickle said, as a matter of fact.

  Cherry squirmed around. “Ouch, girl, your exoskeleton is digging into my back. It’s torture.”

  “When you get your own bed, you’ll be free of this torture. Now shut up and get spooned.”

  DROP SIXTY-NINE

  The next morning, they found Hector and his pet in the kitchen. Pickle showed where the coffee was to Cherry. It was a nice, sunny day, and the Athens sky was clear for a rare moment. The slight breeze coming in through the open windows made it even better.

  “Good morning,” he said, reading the news in his veil.

  Cherry looked shy. “Good morning, Mr. Troy.”

  He snorted. “Just Hector is fine.” He slurped a tiny bit of the hot, Turkish coffee. The aroma was amazing. “What are you having for breakfast? Pickle can help you out.”

  “She is, thanks...” She looked down, rubbed her elbow. “Hector,” she added, hesitating.

  Hector rolled his eyes. “Seriously, relax already! Were you being a vlaka yesterday? Yes, you were. Is everyone, including Armadillo, very much over it? Yes, we are.” He rubbed Armadillo’s head as he said it. “Make yourself at home. Oh, this reminds me.”

  He sent a transaction command in the veil. “Here’s your allowance, 500 euro, plus 200 so you can get the extra bed. Pickle, will you get it sorted? I have three orders today, I really can’t hang out with you guys.”

  “Of course!” Pickle beamed. “Shopping time! I know it’s just a bed, but still...” She squealed in silence.

  Cherry let her jaw hang. Plenty of seconds passed before she finally shut it. “Excuse me, allowance?”

  Pickle grabbed her and turned her around, then whispered in her ear, “Yes, we get an allowance, shush now.”

  Cherry was still stunned. “I’m sorry, what do you mean an allowance, just like that,” she asked, waving her hand, ignoring the whispers of Pickle.

  Hector shrugged. “For women’s stuff. Drinks. Clothes. Makeup? I don’t know, I’m just a guy. Why are you asking me?” He made perfectly obvious the fact that the matter was done by turning his back. If he had an old-style newspaper in his hands, he’d give it a wiggle and straighten the pages right now, that’s what he looked like.

  Pickle tugged on her arm, but Cherry was still on the subject. “You’re just giving me cash to spend. Without asking for anything in return.”

  He frowned. “I expect you to train and form a team with Pickle, then play jugger. Is that too much for me to ask?”

  Pickle kept tugging, and this time Cherry angrily slapped her arm away. “No, what I mean is,
you don’t want anything for it beforehand? I usually have to suck di-”

  “Bah-bah-bah,” Pickle interrupted and covered Cherry’s mouth. Then she swapped hands and shoved a buttered-up toast into her mouth. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, especially for young girls like you. Chew.”

  “Mugh, mng, nf,” Cherry said, mouth full, eyeing her friend angrily.

  “I’m so happy you love my toast,” Pickle said, looking pleased. “Let’s finish the rest in the bedroom and see how we’ll fit the furniture in there, okay? Awesomesauce.” She dragged the young girl by the arm into the room.

  “Are you nuts?” Pickle whispered after she shut the door.

  Cherry looked around. “I guess I am. I just... It couldn’t register. In my brains.” She poked her temple, eyes wide.

  “Yeah. I noticed.” Pickle nodded furiously.

  “Is he for real?” Cherry pointed a thumb at his general direction.

  “Yes!” Pickle squealed with a forced smile. “And let’s keep it that way, shall we?”

  Cherry sighed audibly and sat on the bed. “I’m sorry. I’m screwing this up, aren’t I?”

  “It’s fine.” Pickle opened the closet and took out a casual top and shorts. “Now, let’s go shopping, shall we?”

  Cherry perked up. “I could use some new outfits! What are you getting?”

  “Nothing. I spent it all on pickles.”

  “Come on!” Cherry scoffed. “That can’t be true,” she smirked.

  “I know, I’m terrible,” Pickle said, rubbing her tummy. “I couldn’t help myself.” She leaned in and whispered, “If I could go back in time... I’d do it all over again the exact same way.”