MOAB

Chapter 4: Gregoris @ 3.1x nhs

Chapter 4: Gregoris @ 3.1x nhs

Greg played around with his new setup. He watched half of a documentary about the New Space Race, then he went back to studying the ads Artemis was showing on the internet. An AI had aggregated all the video ads belonging to Artemis Automotive, and he was watching them chronologically in thematic subgroups.

They had corporate ads for shipping, directed to Business to Business customers (B2B). They also had pure security ones, directed at millionaires and corporate bigshots. Over the years their tagline evolved, but they seemed to have settled to ‘Getting you safely from A to B.’ It wasn’t exactly a jingle, but the narrator did wobble his voice a bit and it stuck in your mind.

After hearing it for about six-hundred times across all the variations, Greg had a definite new earworm to shake off. He turned off the research and rested his eyes.

Leaning back on his comfy couch, he thought about his project. Artemis herself. An assignment from Hermes himself. Quite simple, in theory. Figure out what she’s up to, Greg.

Suuure.

Easy as pie.

Figure out what the most brilliant woman of the century was up to, Greg. What could she possibly do, with the full might of a self-made megacorp behind her and a pile of money and a deep grudge against the rest of the Olympian CEOs?

Why did she have that grudge against them, anyway? Greg had asked Hermes directly, but got no clear answer.

Don’t get me wrong, they all schemed and dealt under the table, forging temporary alliances and shrugging off treason as ‘just business, mate.’ All twelve of the Olympians were pompous, brilliant, infinitely megalomaniacal and purely psychopathic.

But Artemis was quite different. For starters, she was fair. Fair to competitors, fair to her employees, fair even when she punished somebody in her employ.

She also didn’t have a skyscraper, nor there was one scheduled for her, despite being in the Olympians.

She was instrumental in changing the law and making corporate adoption possible, where she became the patron (and mother, Greg supposed, in this expanded meaning), of hundreds of orphan girls.

The latter ones were very interesting. Grown up now, in their young adult years, forming street gangs and taking control of the streets of Athens. And they didn’t do it in secret. Videos and motovlogs, a portmanteau of moto and video and blog were all the rage, with girls on bikes filming their exploits and showing them to everyone on the net. They weren’t just elbowing into Athens’ nights, they were meticulously crafting their mythology as well.

Fear and awe. For no one in their right mind would mess with the Amazons.

So bloody interesting. Greg found it fascinating. He wasn’t a shut-in, but the last few years had been quite a routine for him. He didn’t exactly have his finger on the pulse of the city. Someone had to assign him a project for him to take note of what was happening beneath his feet, 80 stories down.

He stood up and looked down from his penthouse window. Athens gleamed, giving way to the nightlife. Apart from the other three skyscrapers next to their own, he felt so high above it all. It was easy to get to your head. That you were somehow above the average people, somehow more than mortal.

He had access to the best medical care in the world, information from anywhere and any country, an allowance that pretty much let him order whatever his heart desired.

So why did he feel so empty inside?

He wasn’t ungrateful, he knew that he was lucky to have all that. He liked pushing the limits of his mind, finding connections, figuring out opportunities where others saw none.

“Getting you safely from A to B,” he mumbled. Because, in this world of today, you couldn’t just take your car and drive down the street to your favourite restaurant. Not if you were somebody important atop the corporate ladder. No, you had to have drones overhead, a car with bulletproof windows, a driver with training, a convoy of Amazons on bikes, a hacker alongside to stop any hacking attempts that might put you in danger. It was crazy. Then, as added features with the relevant price tag of course, you could add biological protection filters, medical priority evac (Make sure the only light you see is Apollo’s Tripod!), or active agents (meaning heavily armed ones).

How could anyone live like that? Greg liked to hop on his bike three times a week and go to Romvis Street for his restaurants. He enjoyed the trip, it was part of his routine to decompress. You couldn’t maintain the speeds for long, you needed to relax regularly. He was old enough to know when to pace himself. He might be pushing the limitations of his mind every day, but he knew not to overextend himself.

Greg stared at the rows of lights below, cars moving around. He liked to watch the patterns. The city was covered in a thin layer of smog, so he could only see directly underneath.

Mel walked next to him quietly. “That one,” she pointed with a crooked finger. Her proportions were all wrong.

“Self-driving,” Greg said after a second.

“Correct,” smiled Mel. “What about that car, the white one?”

“Human driver. Come on, he’s probably intoxicated.”

“That red sedan?”

“Hm. Human, again. He slowed down to check out the girls walking on his right.”

“Correct.”

It was a silly game they played. Greg couldn’t remember who came up with it, him or his Muse. It didn’t matter anyway, as long as it still relaxed him.

“I have one for you,” he said squinting at her.

“Of course. Tell me.”

“That girl from IT from earlier, what do you make of her?”

“She’s human, definitely.”

Greg chuckled. “Yes, I knew that, thanks. No, I meant, what did you think of her? What was your opinion of her when you saw her today?”

Mel paused. Greg knew she paused merely for effect, her brain didn’t need any noticeable amount of time to think about stuff. “I think you should ask her out.”

Greg felt flustered. “No, ahm… That’s not what I-”

“It is what worries you. And no, I don’t think she will be an obstacle to your projects, that is my official opinion as your Muse. People need social interaction to remain healthy, romantic relationships fall into that category,” she said softly, but her face shifted back to her normal mask-like expression.

Greg turned back to the city below. “Okay. How should I ask her? I mean, it’s been so long…”

“I can’t help you with that,” his Muse said. “Actually I can, but I think it will go smoother if I don’t.”

“Some friend you are,” he joked.

“I am your friend, Greg. Also, I am in charge of your physical and mental health. Bringing you a girlfriend on a platter like the call girls you order from a catalogue will not help you in the long term.”

“Alright, alright!” He shooed her away.

She didn’t move. “It’s time for your sleep reset. You know you can’t maintain the polyphasic sleep so long.”

“Yes, I’m going. Leave me alone for a minute, will you?”

“Kalinixta,” Mel said in Greek for goodnight and left.