MOAB � Mother Of All Boxsets

by George Saoulidis

  Artemis sighed in relief. “You’re fine,” she said and began unstrapping her restraints.

  “Am I dressed? I can’t feel much,” Bremusa said.

  “I advise against that,” the doctor said and got a look from the CEO lady. The he put her arms up in surrender and unstrapped the other constraint.

  “Don’t sit up too quick, you are pumped with sedatives, and you were dehydrated,” Artemis said with a motherly tone. Then a harsher towards the doctor, “Leave us, please.”

  Bremusa sat up, decided against it and leaned back down again. “I never understood why you feel the need to say please, ma’am.”

  “It is when one doesn’t need to show courtesy, when her manners matter the most.”

  Bremusa shut her eyes. “We failed the mission. And Antioche is dead. All for nothing.” Then she jerked around, searching the room. “Oh god! Melousa. Where is she?”

  Artemis put a hand on her shoulder, “She’s fine. She was captured, but she escaped.”

  Bremusa frowned, not quite believing it. “What? How did she do that?”

  “I guess Melousa is much smarter than you give her credit for,” Artemis said and smiled faintly. “Frankly, she was more upset about losing her toys than her being abducted. I ordered-in replacements.”

  Bremusa avoided her gaze. She looked around the room, one of the medical rooms in Artemis HQ. She knew her way around those, she’d been treated many times from serious injuries and spent weeks recovering in the ward close-by.

  She was so angry at Artemis. It was just beginning to sink in. Antioche was dead. That doctor, that crazy man had taken her and…

  She frantically checked her left hand. The weave was there, under her skin. Black. She pulled her robe and saw its ends, open and messy, like they were unmade from their ordered state. They were writhing. Slowly, but they were writhing.

  “What the fuck is that?” Bremusa said and scratched her skin, drawing blood.

  Artemis held her hand tightly. “It won’t go away like that. They are nanites, depositing some sort of substrate for graphene particles, but as to why, I do not know.”

  “I’ll tell you why,” Bremusa hissed at her. “Cause then Theseis could walk around in a lighting storm as if it was a casual stroll in the park and stab Antioche in the heart!”

  Artemis was calm. Bremusa could see the poker face her CEO had developed in all those business meetings, stockholder meetings and hostile takeovers, as the wheels turned behind it. She gave away nothing, but her eyes fell for a moment on the weave on her arm, taking it in its details, as if recategorising it in another folder.

  Bremusa couldn’t handle it any more. “Why did you sent us there? What was so important in those damn servers? I know, I know we were doing it for the children. I get that. But… And this is coming from me of all people… Couldn’t you have taken custody of the orphans legally? Some other way?”

  The poker-face of the CEO stood firm, but her eyes seemed to tell otherwise. “Antioche knew she was going to die, but she went in anyway. It was her choice.”

  Bremusa spun herself and stood up, putting the medical bed between them. “The fuck she did!” She bit her tongue, literally, feeling the pain. “Sorry ma’am. I’m furious.” She fell to her knees and stared down, scratching her floor with her nails.

  Artemis walked around the bed and lifted Bremusa’s chin up. She whispered, “Do not feel sorry for your rage, huntress. Shape it. Wield it. I will tell you what your new quest is.”

  Playlist: Video 41/67

  “Where do you see yourself in five years?” the woman asked and kept her hands hovering over the keyboard.

  “Um…” Aura bit her lip. Five years? That was like a whole lifetime. How was she expected to know? “Here? Working at Artemis?” she replied reluctantly.

  The interviewer typed the answer. She typed everything Aura said and it was really irritating. Aura wondered if she was typing the ‘ums’ and the cavernous gaps in their conversation as well.

  “How did you learn about Artemis Automotive?”

  Ooh, she knew how to answer that. “I happened to see a… mission taking place and then I looked it up online, found Orosa’s motovlog, watched it all, then once more… Then decided I wanted to join.”

  “So viral marketing then,” the interviewer mumbled and typed. “Other skills, except vocals, electric guitar and piccolo?” she read off a list. She was pressing the down button with her ring finger, which had no ring.

  “And some bouzouki too. My friend is, well, he is Orestes Dillinger and we play together sometimes. Well, he mostly plays and I hang,” Aura said and decided to stop blabbering.

  The interviewer was typing all the way. She was a strict, hair-in-a-bun woman, totally corporate, without a trace of humour. She was interviewing Aura in her bland, grey office with no windows. Scratch that, Aura noticed that this couldn’t be her daily office, it had no personal effects. But judging by the look on this corporate drone, she might not even have any personal effects to speak of.

  “Hobbies, cycling, camping. Age sixteen. Driver’s license, about to get one,” the drone said, well… droning the words off the screen.

  Aura wanted to kill herself. She felt embarrassed, inadequate, useless. She had squeezed her head for two days trying to make a CV for this job application at Artemis, but the interviewer was making it look like she had no place at all in there. She was biting her nails a minute earlier but she found she had none left, so she stopped and sat on her arms.

  “Computer skills, Videography, hmmm,” the interviewer said with a hint of approval. Aura made an internal ‘yes!’ fist for her choice of adding those in.

  “Wikipedia entry, two beauty pageants at the age of seven. No awards.”

  Aura shrugged. She didn’t feel particularly sorry for that. It was the phase she and her mother went through when she was trying to turn her into a tiny cute princess.

  With a diamond studded tiara.

  “700.000 followers in social media. One music album, released by Dionysos Entertainment. Topped the charts for two weeks. You didn’t put that in the CV?” the woman asked, showing mild interest for the first time.

  Why hadn’t she put that in? Other people would certainly have mentioned that, and it’s not like she could hide it or anything, everybody knew about it. “It… didn’t seem relevant?”

  “True,” the woman said and seemed to type something to finish up. “Do you understand that breaking your contract with Dionysos might incur some damages and accrued legal fees?”

  “Some?”

  “Yes. Loss of profit, PR issues for branding related to your father and brother etcetera. It is an estimate, but they will be around twenty million euro,” the drone said in a level tone.

  Aura gulped.

  Audibly.

  “I’m sorry, I thought I heard you say twenty million,” Aura said, disbelieving.

  “Somewhere near that, yes. It is an estimate.”

  “Oh,” Aura said breathless and sank down in her corporate bland chair.

  “Artemis Automotive can absorb those fees, but you understand I’m sure, that we cannot discuss any sort of normal employment,” the interviewer explained.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” Aura said.

  The interviewer clicked her tongue slightly, choosing her words. “In the event of your employment by Artemis, the only option to be considered is the lifetime one. As an asset, you are frankly a poor investment, lacking relevant skills. That means the only way for this to work is to demand a lifetime contract, with a great risk and the assumption that sometime in the future, your employment will somehow benefit Artemis more than the accrued cost.”

  Aura opened her mouth as if to say something, but then just shook her head.

  “In addition, per your age, you will have to be trained for two years as a recruit. You will be employed as normal, but that places your effectiveness in the future, and delays the return on investment.

  “So… What? You
won’t hire me?” Aura said exasperating.

  “This is a job interview, the point of this meeting is to evaluate precisely that. Due to the nature of your family’s employment, there are further issues that we need to take into consideration,” the drone said unflinching.

  Aura bit her lips till they hurt. “So, if I understand this correctly, because my family is famous there will be some problems. Fine. Doesn’t the fact that I’m famous benefit me in my job application?”

  “Frankly, no. The PR capital is relative, and matters little to Artemis, contrary to Dionysos. If it was the other way around of course it would benefit greatly,” the drone nodded.

  Aura flared her nostrils. She wanted to bash her corporate head on her corporate desk and kick her corporate stuck-up ass.

  Was that what they wanted her to do? Could this be some sort of test?

  No, that was insane.

  “Okay, if I agree to a lifetime contract, what then?” she asked holding her temper down.

  “Your application will be evaluated first,” the drone said nipping all hope in the bud. “After a thorough risk-analysis you might be offered a lifetime contract of employment. That will mean no further changes to your affiliation, and that you might be asked to develop certain skills that will recuperate Artemis Automotive’s loss for her investment in you.”

  “Okay…” Aura said just to fill in the gap. “’Asked’ means she won’t take no for an answer, I assume.”

  “Naturally.”

  Playlist: Video 42/67

  “How did it go?” Orosa said while leaning on a workbench in the garage. Several parts and detritus was thrown around, she had taken the opportunity to grease up her bike. She was wiping her hands on a white wool cloth, staining it black.

  Aura stared at her and felt her eyes watering.

  “Oh fuck. Don’t. Please don’t cry. Oh damn…” Orosa said and stepped close to hug her tightly. She had to raise herself on her toes to do that properly.

  Aura kept it in but accepted the hug.

  “People can see us you know,” Orosa said patting her on the back.

  “I don’t care,” Aura mumbled.

  “Okay, I’m gonna make a real show of looking around for a period pad for you after this. For distraction, they might believe it,” Orosa said, trying to make herself seem annoyed but her voice was caring.

  “I don’t care.”

  “Or I’ll say you were shaken up with that furious Bremusa coming in the lobby. Yeah, that’ll do it,” Orosa went on making excuses but keeping on hugging.

  “I don’t care,” Aura sniffed.

  “You do know Amazons don’t cry, do you?”

  “I-”

  “-Yeah yeah, you don’t care. I got that.”

  “No, I was going to say, I’m not one and never will be.”

  Orosa stood back on her level and looked her in the eye. “Listen to me. Nobody tells you if you’re an Amazon on not. Nobody decides that but you.”

  “But,” Aura sniffed, and a tear fell on her cheek.

  “No buts,” Orosa said and seemed amused at her own pun. She raised the greasy cloth on Aura’s face and wiped away the tears, taking her time, being gentle. Then she twisted it in her palm and with a stained edge made a line in each of Aura’s cheeks.

  Aura felt the sharp smell of machine grease, fresh and dirty. She liked it.

  “You either are an Amazon, or are not. All this,” Orosa said gesturing at the building, “is just the society’s trappings which we must live in. You either are a huntress, or the prey.”

  “I’m a huntress,” Aura mumbled while pushing out her lips but it came out too sweet and girly, especially with her puffed eyes.

  Orosa shook her head and forced down a laugh. “We’ll work on that battle-cry another time. The point is, Artemis knows that, she sees what you are. And I see it in you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “Really-really?” Aura said fishing for more compliments.

  “How are you so cute when you are crying?” Orosa said with her palms up. “I get bloated and ugly.”

  “Orestes says so as well. Wait, I thought Amazons don’t cry,” Aura teased, her nose stuffy.

  “Everybody cries little nightingale,” Orosa said and tossed the greased cloth to the side of the garage area.

  Aura walked there and picked it up. She saw herself in a chrome part’s reflection, distorted, her eyes reddened, her cheeks painted like a warrior’s.

  She took in that picture for a moment. She looked at herself, what she was, what people wanted her to be, what she wanted to be. Where she saw herself in five years. She had a good answer to that now. She spun her face slowly to present her good cheek, then took a selfie.

  “What. The. Fuck?” Orosa said loudly and let her mouth hanging.

  Aura waved her away, tapped her phone and uploaded the selfie. She captioned it ‘Final tribute #Dionysos, enjoy.’ She turned off her mobile. Then she folded the dirty cloth as if it was something holy and put it in her pocket, ignoring the grease stains.

  “Let’s go,” Aura said breathing in. “I want some fresh air, and I want you to take me somewhere specific.”

  Playlist: Video 43/67

  “This is like the opposite of fresh air,” Orosa said as they climbed down the stairs to a danky sub-basement. She was going with her back straight, unlike Aura who had to bow to avoid banging her head. Aura had convinced her to take off her rider gear, so she was in her denim shorts and yellow t-shirt.

  The atmosphere was tangible, thick smells and alcohol. Warm body odours to the edge of discomfort, cigar smoke, hashish smoke and the distinctive smell of too much cheap women’s perfume. Cheap in both aspects. Greek music was heard, a solo performer singing and playing the violin.

  Aura got off the last step and breathed in deep, spreading her arms.

  “Wow, I didn’t know you were that sicko,” Orosa said looking around in the dimly lit room.

  A balding fat man charged them so fast that Orosa actually flinched and took a defensive pose. The man picked up Aura’s hand and kissed it, slobbering all over. He said with a thick Greek accent, “My dear Aura, you’re so koukla! We don’t see you enough these days, how’s your father, say hi from me, he’s in my thoughts,” he said dragging the words and pulling her along. “Come, come, vee-ey-pee table is for you. Come.”

  They followed and got seated at a table with a clear view of the modest stage, just an elevated worn wooden base really, with an old piano, two chairs, stands for microphones and a wooden stool. The musician was performing solo, drunken and swaying. His shots were arrayed on the stool beside him, and he was playing the violin off tune.

  Orosa was frowning, looking at the people and the details. Aura on the contrary, was grinning like an idiot. Ever since she’d met Orosa, Aura was the one being wide-eyed and silly. This was sweet revenge. And on top of that, they were going to have a nice time. Orosa bit her lip. “So, this is where you hang out? What is this place?”

  She had brought her to the Plaka area, the preserved old-style neighbourhoods right beneath Acropolis. “It’s a boite,” Aura said accenting the word in French. “It’s a small night bar with live music, it was very popular in the 1960’s. It almost disappeared entirely ten years ago, but with the resurgence of Greek folk music these places became popular again.”

  “With your father, Tony,” Orosa said with interest.

  “Okay yeah, but he didn’t do it by himself. He is just the better known singer, and the poster boy in Dionysos for the new wave of music.”

  They were talking loud over the people’s mutterings in the small boite. The bald man rushed and startled Orosa who had gotten relaxed and she yelped, “How the heck do you move so fast?”

  “Drinks for the ladies,” he said lewdly and placed them on the table. “On the house.” He stood tall with the circular tray over his huge belly. It didn’t cover it.

  Aura frowned at him.

  “What? You want
non-alcoholic, really? Oh by Dionysos, this is sacrilege,” he muttered and picked it back up on the tray. After a pause to consider, he drank it down in one gulp.

  “My friend can drink, she’s older,” Aura said nodding.

  “Young lady, the day I card someone for legal age drinking, is the day my pecker stops working and leaves ten women unhappy. Hmf,” he said and dashed away to get Aura’s cola.

  Orosa raised an eyebrow, picked up her drink and smelled it. It must have been strong because she blinked her eyes several times by the fumes alone. “You Dionysos guys sure are crazy,” she said nodding.

  The fat man darted close once more and left a tray of snacks and a tall glass of cold cola with lime. He smiled wide and got back to the other customers in the packed place.

  “I’m not Dionysos anymore. Bottoms up!”

  Orosa drank, blinked several times and then breathed out slowly.

  Aura was looking at her and grinning. “Nice?”

  “Yeah. How come you don’t drink?”

  “I had some alcohol at the party of doom. I think it was watered down. Dunno. Don’t really enjoy it,” Aura said and shrugged.

  They looked around. People were booing at the wasted violinist so he stepped down, cursing loudly as he went. Women were sitting on men’s laps, with provocative clothing, laughing at their jokes and ordering in more drinks for more fun. They were smoking, each puff a delicate, feminine gesture that drove men crazy. Aura could never figure out how to do that. If she were to puff smoke seductively to a man, and that was a big if, she’d probably blow it in his eyes and make him choke or something.

  “What’s the time?” Aura asked because her own phone was turned off to avoid the blowback.

  “Twelve. Why?”

  “Okay, it’s about time. This is what I’ve brought you to see,” said Aura getting comfortable in her seat.

  “Is this going to turn into a Dionysian orgy?” Orosa asked squinting. “Because I’d rather not see what that bear of a man across us looks like naked.”

  Aura snorted cola out her nose. “Haha! God no. That happens in invite-only parties,” she waved away.