Blogbuster: A Sci-Fi Thriller

by Mars Dorian

  Vorb, sold.

  Vorb, sold.

  Vorb, sold.

  The college kids didn’t hesitate, they basically threw the digital currency at her. Shut Up And Take My Money Style. Elli smiled, put on the cute face. Little girl in a big, sales world. The twins watched in awe.

  “Damn, she’s really good.”

  She had to nod.

  “Qui.”

  After five more sales, Elli shot her team members a disgusted glance.

  “Heya guys, I could really use some help.”

  “Doesn’t look like you do,” Violet said.

  “You’re right, but I’d rather win this by a sandslide. Even though the rival team is mostly male, they can still win. Never underestimate the enemy, even if he’s a sausage carrier.”

  The twins and Violet joined the fray, gestured to the Vorbs whirling above their heads and took digital orders left and right. The orders flew in, but not fast enough, at least not fast enough for Violet. She knew that selling each device one by one proved to be a time waster. Time was ticking, and she wanted to level up. No, she needed to level up. That’s why she paused a sales transaction and turned to Elli who was smiling her face off.

  “What is it? I got three sales going on.”

  “Forget them, we need to think bigger.”

  “What?”

  “You’re good at selling, but at that speed, we may still lose,” Violet said.

  Elli’s face didn’t know what to do — so it blanked out by default. As if Violet just slimed her head and claimed it was Bolognese. But Violet didn’t mind, she was here to win the big prize, not to play nice.

  “Listen. We’re still approaching them one by one, and the attention is waning.”

  She was right. The crowd dispersed, the helicopter-land-on-campus stunt didn’t last. Those college kids had the nine second attention spans of dehydrated goldfishes, they needed another hook to stay engaged.

  Elli frowned.

  “Don’t you think the Vorbs are attention-grabbing enough?

  “It’s good, but what we need is out-of-this-planet spectacular.”

  “What do you propose?”

  Violet scanned the campus ground and noticed a wide open space. It was the setting for the perfect stage and all the potential that offered. An idea popped into her head. It sounded insane, but it was possible. Violet turned back to Elli with a smile to blind the blinded.

  “I have a crazy idea.”

  “What?”

  “A fashion show,” she said, “an extravagant spectacle that sucks up everyone in the area like a vacuum cleaner on the ultra max setting.”

  Elli sighed.

  “But we have only a few hours left to sell those Vorbs.”

  “A few hours is all we need. And if we can pull this off, we’ll attract the masses, and then the Vorbs will practically sell themselves.”

  The twins finally chimed in.

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I’ve done a couple of shows. Even the unsuccessful ones sold my techwear.”

  She stopped mid-sentence, the memory of her industrial-disaster-show flashed before her eyes. It made her heart ache to talk about it, but now wasn’t the time to suck up to shame.

  “Remember my fashion show video where the model burned herself?”

  They nodded in unison. Violet continued.

  “I sold a few of my techwears despite the failure. Five pieces in total. You know why? Because when you attract attention, you will always find customers. Attention leads to sales, if you do it right.”

  Pause.

  “Now imagine what a cool, little fashion show at the college campus would do. Instead of approaching people one by one, we’ll make them flock to us and collect the offers. Ka-ching.”

  The twins grunted.

  “That sounds all nice, but I don’t think we can pull it off, I mean, we have a couple of hours left. Plus, we’re already making sales, so why not continue?”

  Because one offs are ineffective, Violet thought.

  Because it’s the safe and lame option to go for.

  A mindset of mediocrity.

  Violet, no can do.

  Ever and ever.

  So she turned to Elli who commanded more willpower than those two puddings.

  “It’s a risk,” the little girl said, ”and the time we’ll need to organize the fashion show will cost us sales.”

  “In the short-term,” Violet said, “but look at the results. If we pull it off, and we will, we’re going to annihilate the other team.”

  The twins focused on Elli, waited for her response, which made Violet cringe. Elli looked up at her and smiled.

  “Your helicopter idea was smart, so I want to believe your new one is just as promising.”

  Violet grinned from the inside.

  “So, we do it.”

  “We do it,” Elli said.

  The twins had no choice but to succumb to the group pressure.

  “Okay, let’s hope this works out.”

  Team mode = on.

  Violet leader mode = on.

  “I’ll organize the show. Elli convinces the headmaster to allow our event on campus grounds. And the twins build the stage.”

  Everyone nodded. Violet distributed tasks according to each vlogger’s unique skills. Elli headed off to the headmaster. Violet prayed for the little girl’s psychological mind power, because these bureaucratic higher-ups could be a pain to negotiate with. When she saw Elli disappearing into the college entrance, she turned her attention to the TwinBuilds.

  “Do you guys even know how to build a stage?”

  “No, but we have similar experience. The blueprints are up online, and we have lots of friends in the DIY builder movement. Lots.”

  “Good, let’s win this mission, laissez-faire.”

  And adieu. Violet dashed off, the Vorb followed her. This idea better work out, or else it would be au revoir for her ‘Head of Online Content’ position. Au revoir to the one million credit salary that would save her from financial ruin.

  50

  Elli Mental stopped in front of the headmaster’s office. It looked as quaint as the institution itself, a relict from another century, a world before the web. At least it was clean. Elli wanted to step inside, but the secretary shot up from her desk a few meters in front of her.

  “You can’t go in, she’s busy.”

  She? So the headmaster was a woman? Win. This would be easier than she thought.

  “I’m in a hurry, because I have an offer that will quantify the school’s prestigious image.”

  “You can set up an appointment,” the secretary said.

  Or you can walk right in, as Elli demonstrated.

  “Wait.”

  No can do. She shut the door behind her, saw a middle-aged women with brunette hair, wearing thick, black-framed glasses. She fumbled with her papers. Deep inside, Elli squealed. Over twenty years ago, it would have been a fat, balding guy in the chair, but the times changed, and the patriarchy crumbled to pieces, with or without Elli’s doing.

  But first sales first.

  “Hello, I’m Elli.”

  “I know who you are. You landed on my campus and distracted half of my students from class.”

  Elli kept her cool. Ok, the woman was a bit peeved.

  “And now you march into my office without an appointment?”

  Okay, the woman was pissed. But Elli loved a good challenge, so she walked towards her and sat down in front of the headmaster’s shiny mahogany desk. Straightened her back, like a girl ready for the class. A class she was about to give.

  “I know, and I’m truly sorry, but I have valid reasons. I’m a contestant of the Blogbuster, the biggest online game show known to media.”

  She pointed towards the Vorb that flew above her head.

  The headmaster grunted.

  “I know, I’ve heard about it. Half the city’s talking about that show. But just because you techlovers think you’re the chosen ones does
n’t mean you can walk all over our traditional institutions. There are rules.”

  Inside Elli, it went ka-ching. She understood the headmaster’s worldview.

  She understood what made the revered lady tick. So Elli said,

  “I agree. And I feel repulsed by how many of my contemporaries often act towards tradition and values. But unlike them, I only want to strengthen them. And tie them to the online world, where the majority of today’s youth lingers. That’s why I have a proposal that will benefit us both.”

  Elli made her voice sound firm and sweet at the same time, a trait she practiced three and a half years before the mirror.

  “Do you know how many viewers are watching this show?”

  The headmaster shook her head. Elli smiled.

  “Right now, over seventy-six million viewers from over fifty-nine nations are tuned in live. These millions of people are watching your school right now, whether you like it or not. Which means you can allow us to do something exceptional that could skyrocket your school’s image or taint it for years to come. Not because of us, but because of the way you present yourself on this day.”

  “What do you want?” the headmaster said.

  “My team wants to set up a techwear fashion show — a little event on your campus.”

  Truth was they’re were already working on it, but Elli wanted to make it look as if the headmaster had free choice. If only through make-believe.

  “You don’t have to do anything. You don’t even have to pay anything. All I need is a ‘yes’ from you. A ‘yes’ to make this an unforgettable event for us all.”

  The headmaster grunted and leaned back into her leather chair.

  “I can’t just make a decision that allows you to set up a fashion show. That needs to be approved and planned in advance.”

  “Of course.”

  Elli moved forward, pushed her fingers against the headmaster’s lips. Like, shush lady, it’s all okay.

  “With our clock running out and millions of people watching you right now, you don’t have time for planning. But you have time to make the right decision, for you, and your school.”

  It was time for Elli’s special trick.

  “As you sit in your chair, you will feel more relaxed. And as you hear my voice, you can notice how pleasant it is to just sit and think of nothing. Hummmmmmmmmmm. While you hear my soothing voice, you can allow your eyes to blink and gently close. During this time of deep relaxation you can give yourself permission to change.“

  “What are you talking about?” the headmaster said.

  Her voice fainted, less monster and more mouse, so Elli continued. She repeated the statement from before, this time with a calm authority.

  “Think of all the people that look up to you.”

  Pause.

  “This school needs you.”

  Pause.

  “I need you.”

  Elli stared at the headmaster, saw her reflection in her eyes, and vice versa. An invisible bond not writeable in words. The stare went deeper, behind the eyes and pass the iris. It blew past the cell structures right into the heart.

  “Listen to my soothing voice and relax. Let your face ease up. It. Is. So. Relaxing.”

  Elli concentrated her glance and kept her eye contact steady. She repeated the lines again and again, like a mantra served with sweet, pacifying honey. She saw her reflection in the headmaster’s eyes and imagined she had become the headmaster. Connection. A bond of unity where nothing but pure, female energy existed. Energy that added and subtracted. The room blurred out, even the noises. Everything became silent that wasn’t Elli and her voice.

  The headmaster kept her lips sealed, but her stare remained, as ordered by Elli. She said,

  “Dear headmaster, I believe the fashion show will be great. So please, repeat after me. Elli Mental, I agree.”

  And the headmaster nodded.

  “Elli Mental, I agree.”

  Elli clapped her hands, the headmaster blinked and wiped her eyes. She looked around and saw the little freckle-faced girl smiling back at her.

  “I’m glad this worked out.”

  “Me too,” the headmaster said.

  Not knowing why she just allowed a perfect stranger to hold an ad hoc event on her campus grounds, but feeling that it was the best decision she’s ever made.

  51

  The official Blogbuster stream blew up with comments. A few selected ones stood out.

  HairyHarry wrote.

  OMFG, Elli, you pulled the Potter on her.

  M-A-G-I-C.

  HanShotLast wrote.

  Those are not the droids you’re looking for.

  Skeptix wrote.

  Was this 4real? Did she really? OR was this some kind of SFX from the BB show. Plz, anyone, tell me.

  Stacy_PaceMaker_Prime wrote.

  Can I haz mind kontroll pulease?

  Fangörl wrote.

  Elli u rock so hard I subscribe to ur vlog asap.

  52

  “What now, genius?”

  The Whizzard spoke, and although neither Bam nor Trigger liked to hear his earsplitting voice, they had to find an answer, fast.

  Because, tick tock, the clock was winding down.

  Because, the winner takes it all.

  And team Gold Crush was as close to winning as planet Jupiter was ready for colonization. Possible, but unlikely to happen in the next century.

  “We need someone to sell the Vorbs to,” Bam said.

  Whizzard gave himself an invisible facepalm.

  “Oh, really? Jeez, thanks for the reminder. I thought we’re here for the Corgi convention.”

  Bam turned around and inspected the folks that traversed the main streets of TechTown. Golden Retrievers on Gucci leashes, Asian girls with flamy streaks, wearing shreds of tank tops and young white guys with curly hair, hoods and fake brim glasses. Mix in a few blonds with balloon chests, duck lips and sun-bleached hair, and the silicon heart of technology was complete. Tech hipster meets plastic sex, and hordes of (wannabe) gazillionaires in-between. A home for the younique, a home for the Vorbs, hopefully.

  “Should we just walk strangers up and sell ‘em hard?” Bam said.

  The power in his voice left him since the car alley sandwich scene. But this was no time for critical self-reflection, this was time for massive action.

  “Maybe we should just cold-approach people who look like a million credits and see what happens.”

  “Brilliant idea,” Whizzard said.

  Bam rolled his eyes.

  “I’m getting tired of your sarcasm. Can you at least pretend to say something useful in a while?”

  Trigger loaded up a bunch of profiles.

  “Let’s locate every rich person in the perimeter and ask for a minute of their time. After all, this town is build on ego. And what’s more ego-serving than being part of the biggest online show on the planet and becoming the first owner of a Vorb?”

  Whizzard and Bam nodded. They wiped through their eScrolls, checked profiles, locations and addresses. With rich people, you’d only need to convince one to make huge amount of sales. But first, you had to find one who was pitch-able. Bam waited, and waited, and waited till he waited no more. He saw a limo with golden armor approaching around the corner in slow speed. He didn’t know why, but the inner voice told him to go for it. Told him it was time for a bit of Bam.

  So he dashed off.

  Pushed through the crowds, ran towards the streets, setting his sights on the incoming limo. He aimed for the hood, and tadaa, smashed into it with a realistic impact. It looked as if it hurt like hell, but it didn’t, because Bam applied every stunt trick in the book. It only looked genuine to the clueless bystander, even to Trigger and Whizzard, who watched their team member with frozen expressions. As in, what the heck was that?

  Bam played hurt on the limo hood, faked a moan or two. The doors opened up, a guy with the build of a steroid-infused basketball player pranced out. He cracked his tattooed knuckles and
opened his golden row of fake teeth that mirrored the noon sun light.

  Blinky dee blink.

  “I hope you have a real good reason for crushing my Cashmobile, or else you’re in a world of pain.”

  Bam pretended to come back to his senses. Cashmobile? What an adequate name for a limo with golden armor. This could be the customer he was looking for.

  “See this little snowball floating around me?”

  “I will, once you get off my damn hood.”

  Bam nodded, rolled sideways and landed feet first back on the asphalt. He pointed at the Vorb circling over his head.

  “This little baby is a brand-new piece of technology that records everything in its surrounding. In fact, it records us right now for the biggest online show known to mankind. And you know what’s even better?”

  Mr. Gorilla Meets Golden Teeth shrugged.

  Bam smiled.

  “For only 499 credits, it could be yours.”

  “Why in the world would I want a damn flubber ball spinning around my head?”

  “Because it’s the latest tech sensation from Stax Media. Forget about your computer, your phones, this little baby is the only mobile tech you ever need. Watch this.”

  Bam activated his eScroll, controlled the Vorb. Made it float around him, beep, beep, and triple-beep. But the guy didn’t open up as Bam expected.

  “You landed on my hood that took me five hours of waxin’ today, and now you spammin’ me with that BS ball that sounds like a Corgi swallowing a subwoofer.”

  Bam’s confident smile disappeared from his face.

  “Pretty much,” he said with a voice swallowed by the street noise.

  “Any interest in buying?”

  Mr. Gorilla Guy squinted. Walked up to Bam’s face and said,

  “I tell you what I’m interested in.”

  He grabbed Bam with his steel-thick arms and lifted him up. Now Bam was built like an athlete himself, at least decent Marine material, but compared to Mister Gold Teeth With The Gorilla Arms, he seemed like a midget dwarf.

  And he flew like one. Like the Vorb, although not as elegantly.

  Voosh.

  Gravity pulled Bam back to the ground, smashing his body on the sidewalk. The peeps moved around him without taking a second glance. The folks of TechTown were used to turmoil. Bam moaned, saw Mr. Gorilla flipping him off from the street. The guy entered his car, and the golden limo was back on track, roaring along the main streets. Shining its way out of Bam’s vision.