“Yeah… Aren’t they fucking awesome?”
Playlist: Video 8/67
It took her mere seconds to find out who the camerawoman was and mere hours to see all her videos. She had stayed awake all night on her computer and it was nearly dawn. She would be sleepy and practically crawl to the music school in a couple of hours but she didn’t care.
It hadn’t been hard to find someone with a description so wacky as hers. Her name was Orosa. She had a badly built motovlog, which is a video blog, of someone riding a motorbike. Hence, moto-video-blog. Motovlog. She said that out loud a few times and in her stupor it sounded really silly and made her laugh.
Orosa’s motovlog was a rebirth of all the ugly abandoned graphics of the web-pages of the previous generation. Eye-gouging colours, fonts that defied reading and camera-shaken videos, since the take was from a helmet.
But the viewers didn’t care for that stuff. Hundreds of thousands of them, from all over the world, watched and re-watched videos with the Amazon’s feats. In some of them Orosa gave a few comments, in others she just whined about stuff, in most she said nothing. The picture contained everything that needed to be said. There were videos of Amazons smashing cars, videos of them fighting other gangs, videos with bike-stunts and epic fails, videos of them racing other two-wheel enthusiasts in Paraliaki, the seaside avenue, videos of them helping blood-soaked car-accident victims to get to the ER through the traffic.
Illogical things.
Violent things.
Illegal.
Exciting.
Aura was already re-watching passionately some of which she’d liked more. Orosa wasn’t participating in any-one of them, she only watched and recorded.
But why?
Playlist: Video 9/67
It wasn’t enough that her talent-genes had skipped her over entirely and were making her the running joke around the music school. But also, the snore that escaped her mouth during class was unanimously decided in a murmur to be in Fa minore.
She didn’t care. Her mind was spinning with tires on asphalt and all she could hear was bikes revving.
At recess she located Orestes and explained her thoughts to him in detail. “… And on the other they had climbed a ramp and one was doing a flip, the one with the gap between her teeth that I told you before and her friend with a Harley won the bet and bought them all a drink, but before that they had gone for drinks elsewhere and everybody shushed when they came in. They found a woman from Artemis Automotive and gave them an address and they went and found the others who are three brunettes for some reason and all together they went to a factory and trashed the place, poured gasoline and lit it up.”
Orestes chose his words carefully. “Let’s put aside the fact for a moment that you are talking about dangerous criminals. Last night, when I told you to find something you like, you took that advice and decided you want to become an Amazon.”
“Yes!”
“Oh, but there’s an issue you see. Apart from you wanting to join a gang and commit crime and felony. The Amazons belong to Artemis. Even if you were to learn to ride a motorbike, which you don’t, even if they accepted you, which I very much doubt, you’d need to abandon your family’s corp and get hired by Artemis,” Orestes said in a futile attempt to reason with insanity.
Aura’s face got dark. “That’s true. My father would flip out if I’d gone and done that.”
Orestes smiled thinking he had managed to get through to get and convince her of the insanity of the thing, so he touched her on the shoulder. “So, the matter is resolved.”
“No, I don’t care. I’m gonna find her anyway,” Aura whispered.
Playlist: Video 10/67
“How’s the cut?” Antioche asked, not daring to look her in the eye.
“I’ve had worse. You punch like a girl,” Bremusa said and lay back on her cot. They were alone, Bremusa would never undermine her leader in front of the others with a quip like that.
Antioche lay on the cot next to her, which wasn’t hers so she made an effort to ruffle up the bedsheets, slap the pillow into a tight ball and leave her boots on.
Bremusa noticed and laughed at that, but ended it fast cause her lip was about to tear open again.
They were in the Amazon barracks, a fortress right in the middle of Athens. Instead of picking wide open space and real estate, Artemis decided that she wanted them ready to deploy at a moments notice, with a quick response time through the main roads.
All the senior Amazons could ask for an apartment for themselves, but Antioche preferred to sleep in the barracks. That way, she could be close to weapons, be the first to respond to an emergency, could sleep safe and sound while being guarded 24/7 and most importantly, she could slap the newbies around as she wished. She derived some sick satisfaction in bossing the newbie Amazons around, a thing which Bremusa had pointed out that “she should get that looked at.”
Bremusa could sleep in her own apartment of course, it wasn’t written down anywhere that the crew had to do as the leader did, but she chose to be next to Antioche at all times. Melousa did as well, but she couldn’t really fit into the tiny cots anymore so they had put two of them together in a corner next to the candy machine. The cots weren’t double-decker ones like in the army as you’d expect them to be, firstly because this wasn’t the army and secondly because these were women. They needed their space, small though it may be.
The newbies were outside in the yard, yelling out something in unison.
“We have a mission,” Antioche said.
“Guessed as much, what with Artemis summoning you and all. What is it, and can we get a nap first?” Bremusa teased, an inside joke that got ping-ponged frequently.
Antioche smiled wearily. “Yeah… I think we can get some rest before it all goes to hell.”
There was a pause.
“Hey, are you gonna leave me hanging? Tell me what the mission is!”
Antioche debated against telling her everything. She was her sister-in-arms, her right hand, her best friend, her co-warrior. She literally trusted her with her life, but Artemis had demanded that she told no one about the whole fate thing.
But she was gonna die.
“It can wait,” Antioche said and came over to Bremusa’s cot. She nuzzled herself in the small bed and made room, pushing her butt against Bremusa’s body. Then she turned her back to her and went to sleep.
Bremusa eyed her hard enough to nudge an elephant’s backside, but got no follow-up. She finally sighed and turned her own back to her.
“Are we cool?” Antioche whispered.
“Of course,” Bremusa replied softly.
“I’d feel really really bad if we weren’t you know. Honest,” Antioche said sleepily.
“I know,” Bremusa said and covered them both with her blanket.
Playlist: Video 11/67
Aura sat next to the green lighthouse and rubbed her feet. She was dead-tired, having rode through half of Athens with her bicycle for three nights in a row.
She had ended up in Perama, having exhausted all other theories to find Orosa. The road back was long and she needed a few minutes to rest. Despite what someone might think, it was rather hard locating someone who broadcast her position daily and vlogged about what she saw and what she did.
She gazed Salamina across the water. She was reminded of the history classes at school, of times of heroes and epic nautical battles. Now it was all fake. Song lyrics had six writers and two producers, voices were artificial and myths were manufactured and tested in focus groups.
She knew the deal from the inside, by having a famous father. Not that his voice wasn’t worth it of course, but nowadays for someone to become famous, it required a tremendous push that could only be offered by armies of experts and advisers. This seemed a bit hypocritical to her, pretending to be an original folk voice supposedly discovered by Dionysos amongst the poor masses.
She wasn’t ungrateful of course. She was old enough to remember the hard time
s. The times they were poor. Her little brother’s illness. The fake concerns on doctors’ faces before the contract and how they treated them as kings afterwards. She saw the ravaging unemployment around her and she knew she was a fool to be offered the world and her saying she don’t wanna.
On the other hand, her father’s own songs, whose yelling and disappointment she could already picture clearly, were nudging her to do as her heart desired. The rebetes of the old times didn’t live in mansions, with servants and caviar. They didn’t have to wait for the marketing department’s instructions to string a tune. They weren’t careful not to insult people, to be politically correct. And they didn’t hesitate to have fun.
They sang from deep inside their souls and the souls in turn were illuminated by their spark. And if they happened to have a daughter who when they put her on their lap to sing along, screeched like a murdered calf, they just said “Oh well.” And when the daughter had grown up and decided to become an Amazon they accepted it and wrote a song about it. Or somthin’.
Playlist: Video 12/67
“Where are you?” said Orestes over the phone.
“Did mom put you up to this?” exhaled Aura and sat on a short wall at the side of the road. She held her bicycle upright with her feet in front of her.
“Yeah, but I also sent you like ten messages. Your mother expects you to go to Viko’s party, she has a hairdresser waiting for you at home.”
Aura pulled a lock of her hair and frowned at the frizzled edges. She wasn’t a hairdo maniac or anything, she could go a few days with unkempt hair but this was getting serious. She sighed and said, “What am I doing?”
“Don’t know, can’t see you. It’s not a videocall Aura,” said Orestes confused.
“No! Me, now, what am I doing? I’m scouring the city for days, looking for a damn biker who uploads videos. My feet hurt, my back hurts, I smell bad, and she won’t even reply to an email or anything.” She buried her face in her palms.
Orestes said nothing. She could hear his breath, and she was sure he agreed and was biting down a serious ‘told’ya so!’ but he knew not to push it further.
“Do I really have to go to this party?” she asked wearily.
“You’re asking me? Well, I’m invited too, but I’m not really eager to go if you’re not. Your mom considers it a given, but think of it this way: How much more can she be disappointed in you?”
Aura opened her mouth and then closed it again, stunned. “That’s… Wow. That’s the first mean thing I’ve ever heard you say in… Forever. And I’ve known you forever.”
“It wasn’t mean, you know I’m on your side. I’m just pointing out the truth and laughing, but with you, not at you. You know?” He was apologising. He was actually worried that she might get angry with him over this. As if anyone could hold a grudge at the tall cuddly Orestes.
“No, you’re right. It’s fine.”
“I think we should go to that party anyways. Can’t hurt that much, can it?”
“Oh yes it can,” said Aura and stood up, shook the dirt off her butt and headed home for a party.
Playlist: Video 13/67
Mrs Nightingale tsk’ed audibly. She pulled on Aura’s t-shirt as she fumbled to take it off.
“What is this mess? This isn’t how a lady should wander the streets! What if a paparazzo saw you and took a picture of you like that?”
Aura whined like only a teenager can, “Nobody saw me, I’m in disguise.”
“Well, surely nobody would recognise you in this dilapidated condition,” her mother said, pushing Aura to turn around in her undies like checking on a mannequin at a shop-window. “A tiny benefit to this absurd situation.”
Aura frowned and puffed out air.
“Why aren’t you wearing your push-up bra? Those are fine for now but I have been informed that selfies require a bit more… oomph.”
“I’m not getting ready for a beauty pageant mom! Nobody is gonna rate me or anything.”
“Well, we have established that well over ten years ago. No matter,” Mrs Nightingale said waving a hand. “You are wrong, you know,” she said putting outfits in front of Aura and throwing them back on the bed. “This is precisely the same. You are going to be rated, there will be a pecking order with the other young ladies, and they have a serious head start.”
Aura sagged but stayed upright. They had moved on to finding a match for jewelry, and the permutations were plentiful. It was less troublesome to just stand there and let her mother take care of everything. She could object but it would be an uphill battle. She was in no mood at all.
Also, she knew her mother was getting stir-crazy without her little brother to take care of.
“Have you talked to Pavarotti?” Aura asked, leaning forward to catch the gaze of her mother.
“Don’t call your brother that! He’s no longer overweight, I’ve had the best dietitian take care of that."
“But he is so sweet and I wanna pinch his rosy cheeks,” Aura said in a baby voice. “I missed him.”
Her mother darkened at that.
“Why don’t you go to Italy? We’re fine here, me and dad can handle being by ourselves. He is just a boy, he needs you there,” Aura said with worry.
“It is not the wish of Dionysos,” her mother said waving away. “Besides, I’ve asked for an opening in your father’s schedule, we will visit next quarter.”
“Next quarter? Mom, you are sitting on that window worried sick every day! Just go, pack a bag and get on a plane. We have the money dammit!”
“I… I would hate to interrupt his music studies,” her mother said firmly, in an effort to convince herself too.
“Mom…”
“Let’s worry about your mess, shall we? Maria will help you take a bath.”
And the mother-daughter moment was gone, just like that. Back to their usual selves.
“I can take a shower by myself, thank you,” she screeched and shut the door.
Playlist: Video 14/67
“Scrub harder, you little blonde tampon!” bellowed Antioche, and the girl fell to her knees and rubbed the bike’s surface. It was a secondary bike of course, her own had been trashed on the highway.
Bremusa came to the garage cupping her hand over her ear. “A little louder please, I’m getting old and deaf here.”
Antioche snorted and went on packing up her gear. Bremusa fell beside her and they prepared their necessary equipment. They didn’t really need to talk about it, it was something drilled down a thousand times and they both knew what they needed. Bremusa send a text to Melousa and she appeared a few minutes later, getting her own gear ready.
The blonde recruit didn’t dare speak, she just scrubbed the bike clean and dried it with spare rags they had for stuff like that.
Antioche stopped for a minute and propped herself on her hands on the bench. She took a good look around, taking in the details she liked. It wasn’t really much to look at, but she had spent endless days in total down here, taking care of her bike, of her gear, her guns. Drilling little shits like the blonde tampon.
Oh, she was gonna miss that.
Melousa was sitting on her huge modified Harley and was going through checklists. Antioche hated checklists and told her so at every chance she got, but Melousa did them anyway. She was checking the batteries, the ammo, oil levels. She was balancing the little propellers on her drone. Those damn props always needed balancing, sometimes she believed it was too much of a hassle to use that noisy thing at all. Then she went through her war-laptop, that’s what she called it. A classic old Toughbook that had been modified so much even the guy who designed it wouldn’t recognise it. She absent-mindedly checked for the candy in her pockets, made sure the snack-bars were there and went on further down the list.
Oh Melousa, you are gonna get a heart attack one day.
Bremusa was attentively sharpening her machete. She had a few of them, and Antioche had learnt to tell them apart. This was her “some serious stabbing will be involve
d” blade, and it was her favourite. Of course it was. Antioche knew that Bremusa would always dress up for trouble after a summons from Artemis, she hadn’t even needed to say it.
Antioche took a long breath and she kept it in, trying to hold the grease and the rubber and the aroma of the garage, the motor-oil, the gunpowder, the sterile air that was pumped in from the bio-safe air condition, the soap they used for the vehicles, the thick sweat.
She looked at the rows of bikes and vehicles. The others used electric bikes, silent and with a killer acceleration. She preferred the roar of the internal combustion engine, and so did Bremusa. At some point, she would have to give in as well but…
Who cares, she wasn’t gonna be around anyway.
She kicked the blonde and made her fall on her butt, right on a nice little dirty puddle of wash water.
Melousa seemed she was about to say something, but as always, she didn’t.
“Okay, don’t you see you’re done? I’m not gonna be an excuse for you to skip chores. Get outta here!” Antioche yelled at the recruit and slapped her with a towel.
The blonde mumbled, “Yes ma’am. Leaving right now ma’am,” and scurried outta here.
Bremusa eyed Antioche.
“What? It’s briefing time, we don’t need no newbies around,” said Antioche as if she had the moral high ground.
She sat on her bike’s saddle and waved for the other’s attention. “Right. Chubby, Bremusa, we got a mission. It’s directly from Artemis, so it has to go smoothly.” She stared at Bremusa, “Not like Argos.”
Bremusa’s eyes widened and she sighed loudly. “Fiiine…”
“Okay, Chubby. You should have received some data and shit, I have no idea what?”
Melousa presented her laptop’s screen and said, “It’s all here.”
“Right. We are going to hit Zeus Electric.”
MOAB � Mother Of All Boxsets Page 46
