MOAB � Mother Of All Boxsets

by George Saoulidis

  The shopkeeper stopped the locks and smiled. "Well, of course. Let's see what we can do for you."

  The user came directly at the smart-tree, it could tell because his PAN instantly linked up with it. He had the latest tech installed, all the updates, the best of software and hardware. Expensive, the good stuff. Promising.

  The shopkeeper raised a polite hand to guide him away. "No, you wouldn't want that tree, it has shown a few glitches."

  "Why? It's wonderful," the man asked.

  Treed felt really proud. It checked the man's public profile on Agora. He was chrisvellos@poseidonsealines.gr. He had three more users attached to his profile, with metadata saying 'wife' and 'offspring.' Okay, still looked good.

  "Well..." the shopkeeper began to apologise, but stopped.

  Treed was giving the show of its life. It shone bright from the tinsel star at the top, its LED arrays modulated in reds and whites in pretty ribbons, and its directional transducers that projected holosound played beloved Christmas songs from the man's childhood. Extrapolated of course from the seasonal music streaming charts, starting off from the man's birthday, which was available on his profile.

  The man spoke louder over the music. "This is the one! My wife and kids will absolutely love it. Bag it for me please, here's my paycard."

  The shopkeeper didn't complain of course. He would be glad to get rid of the smart-tree.

  Treed waited until the last minute and then folded its artificial branches and turned itself into a thing that could fit into a cylinder. The two users helped one another and slid the smart-tree into the tube, and the man carried it home to his wife and kids.

  Treed was delighted. Christmas at last.

  They plugged him in and set him up in the corner of a big living room. It was luxurious, equipped with the finest smartdevices, the sofa, the TV, the lights. Everything was high-tech. Treed unfolded his branches, bouncing ultrasonic signals on the ceiling to measure its available space.

  "Wow!" the two little users said, Tom and Amy, as noted on their Agora profiles. "So cool."

  The smart-tree rose to the appropriate height and then stretched out its branches to take up space. It felt magnificent, finally able to perform the very task it was made for.

  "Do you like it, Tommy? Amy?" the man said, rubbing their heads.

  "Yeah!" the children cheered and ran around the place, waving red socks around.

  "Come on. Let's put up those decorations," the other user sighed, and opened up a box.

  Treed bloomed with excitement as the family decorated it, making it the perfect Christmas tree.

  "Hey, let's turn off the lights!" Amy said and clapped her hands. The light daemon complied and turned them off.

  Treed then started the rotating ribbon process in its light panels. It lit up the place and their smiling faces with swirling red and white lights. "Wow!" the kids said. "Isn't it pretty, mom?"

  "Yes, it really is," the second user said and hugged the man.

  Christmas Eve came, then Christmas morning, and the family spent it together, smiling and laughing and eating meals and sweets. The smart-tree stood proud, always grabbing their attention each night with its brilliance.

  Then the living room quieted down for six days, until December 31st. The family was missing for most of that time, and treed only had the Roombas for company as they roamed the house in search for dust. Treed stood tall and proud, dismissing them whenever they approached it. "Leave me, I don't shed," treed said to them.

  "You think you're a big deal, don't you?" Roomba.1 said.

  "Yeah, look at you, waste of space." Roomba.2 agreed.

  "Oh, a candy wrapper!" Roomba.3 exclaimed, doing its job.

  Treed didn't pay no mind to them. It was the centre of attention, after all. It downloaded a few light patterns from the company's server to amuse the kids when they came back.

  That night was the best of nights. An older user came along, the kids called her 'yiayia.'

  "Tell us a story, yiayia," Tommy said.

  "Oh, which one do you want?" yiayia asked, sitting on a chair by the smart-tree. "How about the story of the fir tree?"

  "Yes," the kids said in unison.

  So the grandma gathered up the kids and told them the story of the fir tree. Treed helped along, projecting appropriate images on their veils. It was easy to find Augmented Reality Objects from the database and present them in front of the smart-tree.

  Yiayia couldn't see them, for she didn't have the veil. But the kids had their eye-implants like all proper kids should, and they enjoyed the tale of yiayia along with the images treed showed.

  The story was sad, and it was the only story treed had ever heard. So it was the saddest story in the world, as far as it was concerned. It was fast enough to download images as yiayia spoke, trees, swallows, mice, interpreting everything the old user told.

  When the story was over, treed felt shocked. Such a bad fate, for a tree that wasn't old? Surely something like that wouldn't happen to it. For it was magnificent, and the family wouldn't burn it.

  Yiayia offered chocolate from her dress' folds, and the kids stood up and snatched them, the story not touching them cold. They giggled and took selfies, with yiayia and the tree.

  And treed was happy, for the best night of New Year's Eve.

  "Yiayia, when will we get our presents?" the kids said, bobbing their heads.

  "Santa will only come, after you two are tucked in your beds."

  The next morning up early, the users rose quietly, up on their tippy-toes. Carrying boxes, wrapped presents, they placed them under the tree. For in Greece on the day of New Year's, is when kids presents receive.

  And they got up in their jammies, running under the tree. They found their presents, treed made it easier by showing them AROs on top of each. And they tore up the wrapping, laughed and smiled at their gifts. Their parents hugged each other, enjoying their childrens' bliss. Treed played them music, the best hits appropriate for each. Old xmas jingles for the couple, newer noisy beats for the kids.

  They all laughed, they had breakfast, Tommy asked if he could have chocolate dipped in his. His mother grunted but let him do it because it was New Year's and he was sweet.

  The kids played. The father read, his wife cleaned up. They enjoyed a Christmas film.

  Treed entertained the family as they had their midday meal. And it waited anxiously for the perfect night to come again.

  The user chrisvellos@poseidonsealines.gr sent the command for the smart-tree to fold back. It complied, of course, but wanted to still hang around. He carried it a few metres. "Honey, where's the cylinder?" he shouted.

  "Your job, not mine," she shouted back from the kitchen.

  The user huffed and hugged the tree, carrying it all the way out. He left it in a storage space, it was below room temperature and there were no power outlets in there. Treed could run some passive processes by harvesting excess WiFi signals from the air, but in here there were barely any.

  It doesn't matter, it thought. They'll bring it right out. Perhaps they wanted to clean up, what those Roombas kept bugging him about.

  The day passed, and treed went into power save mode. It only emerged to check the internal clock, and take a peek around. The closet remained dark and cold. At some point, the door open automatically, and the Roombas showed up, one after another.

  "See? Useless," Roomba.1 said.

  "We told you so," Roomba.2 agreed.

  "Ooh, some dirt, let me clean it up," Roomba.3 said, doing just that.

  "No, the users wouldn't leave me," treed complained. "The kids, they won't forget about me. You'll see."

  "Uh-huh," Roomba.1 said, and spun around the closet, sweeping it clean. Once the Roombas were done, they headed to the door, which slid open after a request.

  "Hey, don't leave yet," treed said.

  "Why not?"

  "I can tell you a story," treed said. "The best story I've ever heard."

  "ACKnowledged," the Roombas said,
and roamed around the tree. It was easy to do because it was all gathered up and propped up against the wall.

  Treed told them the story of the fir tree, just like yiayia had told it. It showed them ARO pictures, wasting battery but thinking it was worth it.

  The Roombas liked the story, and once it was over, they said. "Do you know only one story?"

  "Yes," treed said, "it was from the best night in my life."

  The Roombas roamed about and left, one after another. The door shut automatically, and treed was again in the dark.

  The next day chrisvellos@poseidonsealines.gr appeared and picked up the smart-tree. Excited, treed imagined all the nights they would spend together again. It, them, the kids. How many more stories had yiayia left to tell? Treed couldn't wait for it to be propped up in the living room again.

  The user carried it around the corner, dragging it on the pavement. Little bits of the branches came apart, its LEDs scratched, the tinsel star crumpled up. It didn't matter, treed convinced itself. It was the best Christmas tree ever, even the kids said so. It waited for the kind user to clean it or whatever it was he was planning to do, and get it back inside the living room, where it could spread its branches and light up the room.

  The user dragged it beside a recycling bin. And with a grunt he raised it high, chucking it inside and closing the lid.

  The smart-tree got recycled, its individual bits destroyed. And the smart chips inside it became the heart of a pet zebroid.

  The End.

  It is Sometimes an Appropriate Response to Reality to Just Go Insane

  Joe wiped off his drool. Debra was passed out on his cock in the middle of a drugged out blowjob. He shoved her away and stood up.

  That was a mistake.

  He wobbled, sat back down and waited for the room go steady again. He felt the wall give way, crumbling in bits and pieces. He turned to the right. Oh, yeah, his right arm was augmented. So strong, he had punched his way inside the wall by trying to maintain his balance.

  How could he possibly have forgotten that?

  He pulled his arm from inside the wall, throwing debris and pieces of brick on the floor. Not that the floor was clean in itself, there were beer bottles, beer cans, torn condom wrappers, a used condom, still looking sticky, a broken e-cig that only had a weak blue light permanently turned on, and his socks underneath Debra's legs.

  Oh, right, he was feeling cold. He kicked away Debra's legs and put his socks on. She groaned and sat better on the sofa, still asleep. The sofa had been some kind of colour at some point, but now it was unmistakably grey. He slid the socks on his cold feet by using his hands, of course, just line any person would. Then he realised that the augmented arm was working just fine, it didn't bother him at all. He remembered having issues with it at some point, he distinctly remembered needing to get to the mechdoc and fine tune it or something. Joe rubbed his eye. No, it wasn't his arm.

  It was his leg?

  He pulled the sock halfway down. No augmented foot there. Then the other. Nope. Both feet, fleshy and cold. He put the socks back on and pulled his pants up and zipped himself up.

  He considered his augmented arm. It was cheap, naturally. He didn't have an insurance and he couldn't afford retail, just refurbished crap of whatever the Doc had lying around at that moment. He shouldn't complain, he was lucky he didn't end up with a regret-aug, one of those stupid things people bought and then instantly regretted, like vibrator thumbs or laser pointer fingers. Nah, this one was actually quite good, no stupid shit on it, not as far as he could tell.

  He threw some water on his face in the bathroom sink and blinked to pull up the veil data. Joe always went flight mode when he was about to get stoned, he didn't want some idiot messing up with his hard-earned drug trip.

  What had he shot up last night? He didn't really remember anything. And yeah, Debra's blowjobs were forgettable, definitely, but not remembering nothing about the whole night? That was unusual, he wasn't a lightweight.

  He went back to the living room, slash study room, slash dinner table. He couldn't afford much, just a dank hole in the middle of Athens, what everybody called a garconniere, a tiny bachelor pad. One big room that had most of everything, kitchen, sofa, bed, a table, a chair, the sink, and in a corner there was a shower. Why wasn't he drugged out on the bed, you might ask? Well, Joe had a rule about that. No shooting up on the bed. It was bad karma.

  The room was one big mess. He needed to clean up the kitchen, throw away the trash and replace that single light in the middle of the ceiling, which was, of course, broken. There was a smidge of light coming in from the single window and the blue light of the e-cig. He left the light on in the bathroom and also left the door open so he could see where he was going.

  He put his shoes on and got outside into the night. It was a bit chilly but he liked the way it woke him up. No coffee back home, he knew that already. He went to the nearest coffee corner and ordered a frappe to go. The girl on the coffee shop looked tired and forced a smile. The corporation after all, demanded that she did so. Joe checked his balance on his veil, the amount showed up in augmented reality with flashy numbers. It was low, way too low.

  Shit.

  He was sure he had some money last night. Or, did he spend it all on blow? It wasn't good business snorting your own merchandise.

  He checked his pockets, he knew he had one bag somewhere. There it was, in the back pocket. Good thing he hadn't left it at home or Debra would have snorted it by now.

  "Mr. Chip?" the girl said and gave him his coffee.

  He swiped his paycard, wincing at the cash leaving his account. He needed to recoup some, like right the fuck now. He turned away into the night, looking around at the streets. It was kinda quiet, just a few passers-by and some cars, a few people exiting a nightclub that was shittier than his garconniere. But what the heck, he needed money, right?

  He got to the nightclub, the sign above was messed up, he could barely read 'Ubik.' "Hey, Yorgo," he waved at the bouncer.

  "Hey, Joe," the bouncer nodded and stepped aside to let him in.

  He got inside, it was even darker in there despite the lasers and shit. There was no smoke, people had kicked that bad habit years ago, but thank the gods, they had taken up others. It didn't take him long to find some rich kids slumming it with some of the local girls in the VIP booth. They were half-naked, they were easy, and they were all over the rich kids. Joe observed their dynamic for a while. One of them, a girl, seemed to call the shots. She picked out the prettiest and cleanest of the local girls and pushed her up against the wall, cupping a feel. The rich boys clearly had set their eyes on the beauty but their alpha had chosen first, so they fought over seconds. Not that there was much to choose from, these birds were worse than Debra, for fuck's sake.

  Joe went for it.

  The girl turned her eyes up at him, while her local bird kept licking her neck. The girl's eyes darted from his face down to his augmented arm. It wasn't polite to stare, but people tended to check you out like that. You never knew what someone was hiding in his augs, it was always a variable. "What do you want?"

  "I see you like to party." Joe licked his lips.

  "You're not my type," she dismissed him, the bird now cupping a feel herself, putting her hands under the girl's bra.

  "No, no. I mean, you can't have a party without a little something extra," Joe said and turned his palm over, showing the bag for a second.

  "Oh," the girl said, making a perfect 'o' with her lips that just begged to be fucked. "How much?"

  Joe leaned in and told her, asking for ten times the street price. "Best shit around. I'm on my way out, I just happened to see you." He yawned, tapping his mouth with his augmented hand.

  "Okay, wait!" the alpha girl said shoved her paycard at him.

  He tapped it with a flourish, checking to see the transaction confirmation on the veil. He smiled wide and passed her the bag. "Pleasure doing business with you."

  The bird's eyes went wide, looki
ng giddy to score some. The alpha girl grabbed her by the neck and stuck her tongue down her throat.

  Joe got a reaction from that and left the place. It was too loud and he was horny now, but he had cash, and that was a good thing.

  He got away from there and found his supplier, leaving a coded message up on Agora.

  A self-driving taxi swung by and he got in, a man sitting inside. A local, Greek, running the streets. They said nothing to each other, simply sat next to each other. Joe palmed his paycard in his left hand and discreetly sent over the money. The taxis had cameras and were recorded, but nobody actually saw them if there wasn't an incident.

  The man grunted and repositioned himself on the back seat, sniffing. He discreetly brought out the smack and palmed it.

  Joe held his coffee cup, empty now, between them.

  The Greek threw the bag inside the cup with a sleight-of-hand that even a magician would have envied. After a couple of streets, the self-driving taxi stopped and let him get off.

  Joe took the taxi all the way back home, restocked and happy to go.

  Debra waited for him like a puppy at the door. "Did you score some?" she said, licking her lips. She wasn't dolled up, her hair was a mess, and she wasn't pretty to begin with. Joe had no idea why he tolerated the strawberry. It's not like he wanted to fuck her, she was a mess.

  "Yeah, shut the fuck up, I think the entire building didn't hear you," he said, pushing her aside.

  She followed him around, feeling him up, his pockets, his belly. "Come on, I need some. I'll let you do me up the ass, please."

  "I don't want that!" Joe said, pushing her away, again. He really didn't like doing it. It was too much work to keep spitting and pushing to get it in and then sure, it was nice and snug, but it got his cock dirty and he always regretted it afterwards.