MOAB

Chapter 42: Galene @ 2.6x nhs

Chapter 42: Galene @ 2.6x nhs

“Are you sure you’re alright? You haven’t stopped grinning for hours,” Greg asked in quicktalk.

Gal squealed in delight for the thousandth time. She kept looking at Spain underneath, rushing past them. The private jet was perfect. The bubbly in her hand was perfect. Everything was perfect.

“Yeah, it’s alright,” Gal said, trying and failing to keep it cool.

“I thought you’d enjoy the trip. I don’t travel much, it wrecks my schedule. But it’s nice every now and then.”

“I love it! Don’t get me wrong, it’s great just lounging at home with you, but trips are cool.” She touched the leather on the seat.

“I had ulterior motives in bringing you with me.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“That too, yes. But I’m talking about business. I pinpointed the decision-maker in Teucer’s life. Believe it or not, it’s his grandmother. She’s his unofficial manager. She’s not that old, she had kids quite young, and she’s quite sharp.”

Mel walked down the plane corridor and refilled Gal’s champagne. Gal thanked her. “I guess it’s not bad having someone you can absolutely trust in this business. It must be tough having to deal with all the sharks.”

“Spot on.” Greg pulled up his data on Teucer. “Teucer has a fan following, and in his case, the word fan really means fanatic. Archery hasn’t ever been very popular as a sport, and it definitely hasn’t been one since Victoriya. The fans call themselves Teucrinos and they travel by bus to every appearance he makes. They religiously buy whatever brand is sponsoring him, they cheer him online and on the field. It’s an Olympian’s dream.”

Galene watched some of the sped-up clips. An AI had cross-referenced faces with social media and identities of people. They were indeed from his hometown, Pontevedra. “So, we’re going to talk to the grandmother?”

“Yes. And the grandmother was wed very young, at twenty years of age to a man who was forty.”

Gal crossed her arms and leaned back on the comfy seat. “So that’s why you wanted me with.”

“It helps. But you’re not just eye-candy, you’re an intelligent woman in charge of her own project at Hermes. I think she’ll appreciate that, and give us points for sympathy.”

Mel came up to her and brushed Gal’s neck with her finger. It always calmed Gal when one of the Plastics did that.

She perused the data and Greg’s notes. She reviewed his angle, and found it okay.

Gal should have been irritated being used like that, but she honestly wanted to help him. And if showing up would help with Greg’s business, then it was fine.

“Tell me what you want me to do.”

“Oh, my gods!” Galene yelped and spun around.

“It’s great, isn’t it? I’ve never been here before.”

Gal looked at the architecture, the bridges both old and new. It was a blend of European history with modern city-building. “Absolutely gorgeous. The pictures really didn’t do it justice.”

Greg held her hand. They walked the city streets, taking in the stone and the fountains and the beauty of it all.

“I wanna sit in all the cafes. Let’s have drinks in all of them and take selfies with everything!”

Greg chuckled. “Okay, but easy on the caffeine. Let’s try the local delicacies.”

“Where’s the Plastic?” Gal asked, looking around.

“Who?”

“Mel.”

“Oh. Plastics, right. She went off to explore. It’s not like her presence will help with the grandma.”

Gal squinted and licked her spoon. An android off exploring on its own. Now that was unusual. Was that part of her programming? Taking in more information, yes, definitely. But exploring a foreign city?

“Where’s the grandma’s house?”

“It’s two blocks over. We’ve called ahead and made an appointment, but it’s not like the Spanish have strict schedules or anything. We might have to wait.”

The wait was nonexistent. Grandma had a feast ready for them. Patatas, paellas, calamari, tortillas, catalanas whatever. It was all there.

A million-euro deal over Spanish cuisine, at a cosy little apartment in a quaint little town.

Grandma waited for them to stuff their mouths. They spoke in slowtalk. “It’s great,” Gal said gasping for air. The only thing in the apartment that didn’t make it seem like any other granny house in the world was the sports memorabilia. Every prize ever won by Teucer, every photo of his victories, every scrap of press he was ever in, it was all there on display.

“So,” grandma said in English, “tell me everything. How long have you two been together?”

“Oh, a few months. But it feels as if we’ve known each other for years,” Greg said.

“Very nice. I hope you’ll make an honest woman out of her,” grandma said and pinched his cheek.

“I plan to. I haven’t met her mother yet, so that comes first.”

Gal raised an eyebrow.

“How lovely. Have some more paella, you’re rather thin.”

“It’s all great, I really love the calamari.”

“My son fished it! He knows all the best spots, he goes spear fishing. It’s dangerous, but he doesn’t listen. Men never do.”

Gal nodded.

“Miss-”

“Please, call me abuela.”

“Abuela, we really want your grandson with us. I’ve followed his career and I believe we can make him the face of the new Olympics.”

“So, it’s business time. Yes, I had my son read your proposal. I can’t see very well.” She raised an ageing hand. “I know you can fix that, don’t try to sell me stuff. I like my eyes how they are.”

“You should, they’re lovely. No wonder your late husband made sure to marry you as soon as he saw them.”

Smooth! Galene touched his leg, then slid her hand on the inside of his thigh. If it weren’t for the grandma, she’d have jumped him right then and there.

“Gregoris, I’ll be honest with you because you’re a fine young man. I like your proposal. But we’re signed up with Artemis. Breaching our contract will mean losing credibility. The benefits will have to be enormous to even consider it, right? You understand. Now try the dessert, I made it myself.”

That was the end of the negotiations. Gal could see his jaw clench.

Mel finally joined them at the cafe.

“Why do we need to call you on the phone?” Gal said in quicktalk, annoyed.

“How else would you reach a person?” she asked.

“I dunno? With an integrated cellphone maybe?”

“I don’t have one.”

“That’s what I’m saying. Why don’t you have one?”

Greg raised a hand. “Girls, please stop. We’re all tired and angry, let’s not add to it.”

Mel sat down. Her face was ugly, as always, but concerned. “So it didn’t go well?”

“They’re too loyal. Like everybody else around Artemis. Too f*****g loyal. I mean, the deal is objectively good. I’d say that even if we weren’t on Hermes’ side. It really is, and they can’t see it.”

Gal didn’t even finish her ice cream. It was delicious and she didn’t wanna touch it.

They sat in silence for a while.

Gal perked up. “You’re wrong.”

“What about?”

“About them being loyal. No, sorry, you’re not wrong, we’ve just been going about it the wrong way. Sure, grandma is the decision maker. But the Teucrinos are the vocal fan base, see?” She pulled up recent hashtags of social posts, it was a riot.

“A fine observation, Gal,” Mel said.

“Why, thank you, Plastic. What we need to do…”

They both waited for her to work it out.

She thought out loud. “It’s a fleshware problem.”

“A what?”

“It’s what we call problems that arise from human stupidity. The hardware works, the software is bug-free, but the problem lies in the user. Fleshware is when people jot down passwords on sticky notes on the monitor, when they plug in things where they shouldn’t be, or, and this is our situation right here, when they reject a new system just because they’ve been too accustomed to the old one. You see it every day, we try to install newer, faster, safer systems and the employees kick up a riot and demand for the old one back.” She looked at Mel. “The code is fine, the tech is fine, but humans are the problem.”

“Happens quite often,” Mel agreed with an ugly smile.

Greg nodded. “I see your point. Okay, what can we do to change that?”

Gal went quiet. Then she played around with her ice cream for a bit. Why had she bought that ice cream? Cause it was delicious, yeah. And cause someone else was paying for it, sure. But why had she decided to switch from her regular chocolate ice cream to this fancy, unknown flavour?

It was quite obvious, when she thought about it. It was the cherry on top.

“How much of an advertising budget can we get?”

Greg shrugged. “Right now? Dunno. About one-hundred-thousand, maybe.”

Gal mouthed the words. “One-hundred-what? Seriously? And I just get access to it, right now?”

“I can ask for approval, yes. Do you want me to?” Mel said.

Gal turned to her. “f**k, yes!”

Half a second passed. “Done. Please check your-”

“I see it.” Gal interjected and then went into frantic mode. It all made sense. If she just targeted the Teucrinos with advertisements about Hermes, flooded their timelines with articles underlining Artemis’ feminism, and then injected an idea about the augmented Olympians in their discussion groups, and then…

Yeah. This might work.