Authors: George Saoulidis
Tags: #speculative fiction, #young adult, #greek mythology, #dystopian, #european, #greek gods, #athens, #mythpunk, #bundle, #science action thriller
Our turn
came. A droney face spoke. “Forms.”
Zoe
presented them in order.
“
Cheque.”
Zoe gave
that too, never taking her eyes off of it.
“
CDI card.”
We
presented those.
“
Next.”
She was
trying very hard to contain her joy, and failing. I learnt later as
to why.
A day’s
hard work was near its end, so we went back to the Tramp Division
and picked up our stuff.
“
Meet you tomorrow morning at the bank,” she said and sent me
the details on a message.
Irene
congratulated me and patted me on the back.
That was
my first day on the job.
Chapter
6
The next
morning I found myself feeling happy. I had my backpack with me, a
few essentials really cause I don’t need much. I was on the bus,
looking outside the window as the city raced past.
I would
have felt good even if I only went to work that morning. The trip
was just the cherry on top.
It was a
shame of course, the cause of our trip. That poor little
girl…
It was
nice though, going somewhere. Meeting new people, doing honest
work. Learning new stuff. If it had to be rabies, then rabies it
is.
Being
unemployed sucks, and I wasn’t going to return to that state
willingly.
I got
off the bus and carried my backpack to the bank. I checked the
clock, I was on time. The bank was filled with people. The crisis
didn’t seem to have any effect on the amount of people in banks
each day. You’d think that people with no money wouldn’t really
have any bank-related issues but there it was: full of sorrow and
miserable people, waiting in line, loud beeps pushing them slowly
towards the cashier.
I
decided to treat myself with my joyful feeling for a little longer
so I waited outside, at the shade of a tree. I could see the
entrance, and could definitely spot Zoe coming out.
A few
minutes later, she did, smiling and closing the distance with
little jumps.
“
Kalimera Poly,” she said. “What’s with the bag?”
“
Kalimera. What do you mean, I packed for three
days.”
She
walked towards her car and unlocked it. I threw my backpack over my
shoulder and followed.
“
Very gallant of you,” she said and counted the money she just
exchanged for the cheque. She split some and gave me a handful.
“Here’s your cut. Stay at home until Thursday, and we’ll pretend to
come back late at night. So we can scrape off a few hours off
Friday morning too. Then we’ll get back to the office.”
“
What are you talking about? Fudge the report? The
investigation?” She was about to get into her car and I shut her
door.
“
Look, I get it. You’re new. Take it from me. It doesn’t
matter whether we investigate or not. It’s all the same in the end.
Instead of spending three days in one another’s cheery company, why
not crash at home with booze money? Or go to a bar, with booze
money. Huh? Even better. Now, lemme go, I have a pair of trousers
that I’ve been eyeing for days, and now, I’m gonna buy it and enjoy
my bonus!”
She went
into the driver’s seat and turned on the ignition.
I was
speechless.
I leaned
down to look at her through the car window.
“
Ohi. No. Stop. You can’t do that! Do you always do
that?”
She
shrugged. Her voice was muffled, like, well exactly like coming
through a closed window. “Not always, I have done a few
investigations now and then. But this is too good to pass on. It’s
like a new payday in the middle of the month. Don’t worry, I’ll do
the report. You can thank me later.”
I opened
the rear door and picked up the folder. I shoved the girl’s photo
in her face. OK, not her face, because the window was still closed,
but I slapped it hard on the glass and when she turned towards me
it was right there in front of her.
“
This here, happened. And it might happen to other people,
unless we go up to Thessaloniki and check things out. I’ll go by
myself if I have to. Don’t worry, I’m not a snitch, I’ll say we
were together. But I can’t do something that I have no knowledge
of.”
Zoe’s
face turned sour. She looked at the picture of the poor girl and
then looked at me with dark eyes.
She
rolled down the window. “There’s nothing we can do for her anyway.
Enjoy the bonus. Fuck off.”
She
drove her car away and I was left holding the case file.
Chapter
7
Neighbour’s Report #2
I never
believed all the rumours of course.
Tina and
Vangelis were the perfect couple. Perfect parents.
It’s why
I came from the big city you know, to live out here. With people
like that. We are actually neighbours around here, with the full
meaning of the word. Back at Athens, Kallithea, were I used to live
we didn’t even know who our neighbours were. After a couple of
years and random encounters you got to know the faces eventually,
but not like here.
I got
greeted to an impromptu gathering the day I moved in. I met
everyone, and I mean everyone. They were all like, meet my uncle
the fireman, and my cousin the tailor, and my son-in-law the baker,
and my godson Yanni who is lazy and still lives with his mom. And
you have to eat this, and taste this, and drink my red whine, it’s
the best in Northern Greece!
It was
culture shock for me.
The wine
helped.
Working
for a corporation is soul-sucking. Quitting that job is like
getting your soul back.
I
remember getting anxious for things that seem ridiculous now. Is he
going to misinterpret my email? Are the quarter’s goals met? Are we
ready for the annual review? Is the share up or down?
My
doctor said I was going to die two years ago. They got me scans,
they took litres of blood, they did tests and more tests. I must
have seen about eleven different heart doctors, four of them
abroad. All paid for by Hephaistos of course. I was too important
to them.
I mean,
we were building everything. I used to joke that I put the heavy in
“Heavy Industries.” Cars, ships, planes, buildings, cranes, dams,
generators, pipes, we made anything. CAD was my thing. Designing
stuff in 3D, so they could get fabricated. Simulate stresses, swap
out materials, projected corrosion, wear and tear, steganopoiisis.
They made me project manager, and kept telling me to delegate, but
I just liked making stuff. I didn’t want to pore over stats and
spreadsheets all day. I wanted to research, design, test, optimise,
send it for manufacture and then kick the damn thing to see if it
was tough enough.
I was on
a strict diet, a good workout schedule. It didn’t matter, my heart
was failing.
I was on
a routine business trip, when I saw a cardiologist’s sign. It
wasn’t one of those fancy doctors. He was old. His doctor’s office
was pathetic. He didn’t care, he was close to pension. Or
death.
I’m not
sure why I knocked. I was sick of doctors at that point, and I’d
been across the Atlantic to meet the best ones. What did this guy
have to tell me that the others didn’t?
I
knocked. He greeted me. I told him about my case, showed him my
test results and gammagraphy (I always hate that word. The Greek
one is more awesome. Sparkography. Sparkagraphy? Anyway, sparks and
photographs).
He put
on his glasses and read it for a while. I was huffing and puffing,
already regretting my impulse decision to visit a random country
doctor.
Then he
asked me what I did for a living (Manufacture). Where I lived
(Crowded Apartment Building), how my life was (Shit). If I had
children (No time).
Was I
happy?
Was
I?
(No).
He
“prescribed” me to go live in the countryside and drink a single
glass of red wine every day.
I
laughed, paid and got out.
When the
quarter ended and had two mild heart attacks at the age of 32, I
quit my job and came here.
It’s
ironic really. I quit Hephaistos and became a
blacksmith.
Now I
build or fix people’s fences, rooftops, tractors. Granted, they end
up able to withstand a hurricane or made from metasteel when a
single wooden beam would suffice, but I can’t help myself. Half of
them have no idea what I do and how I make them, but they are
always grateful. Seeing people’s smiles first-hand when you fix
something for them is the best feeling in the world.
So no, I
don’t believe the gossip. I know these people. The psychologist is
trained to see illnesses, much like a surveyor is trained to see
cracks. He was wrong this time. The girl was not abused. She was
intelligent, studied hard and with an interest in science. Her
parents are average people, but they loved her. They would have
mended their marriage eventually if Emma didn’t die that soon. Now
it’s beyond repair.
Yes, I
noticed the girl’s experiments. Someone gossipped about it though,
then I noticed. She had cuts in her arms all the time, yes. With
colourful band-aids on them. The parents kept saying she was clumsy
with her microscope kit they bought her. All those sharp
edges.
They
were initially happy of course for their little girl’s interest in
biology. What parent wouldn’t be? It’s a perpetual cliche in Greek
households, everyone wants their kid to become a doctor or a
lawyer.
Well,
they sure aren’t happy now.
Chapter
8
I was
sitting like a slump at a bench on Ktel station. It’s the intercity
bus service that gets you to other parts of Greece. It’s generally
dirty, noisy, but it gets you there.
I was
waiting for my night express. Thessaloniki is the second-largest
city in the country, so the transit is frequent. The bus-station is
busy all day, and retains its business up to the night hours. It’s
what you would imagine a third-world airport to look like. Then
replace planes with buses. People carrying luggage, chickens in
cages, all nationalities coming and going, greeting their loved
ones, announcements in Greek and repeated in murdered English. A
banner ad right across my line of sight was proudly showing a
computer error message. Nobody cared to fix it.
To my
right I could see the line of taxi drivers waiting for a fare. Men
talking, looking around to hook up a client. Yellow cars, pimped up
with electronics and antennas. GPS equipment, old-style CB radio, a
couple or three of app-based taxi services. In-car Wifi.
I could
just hop in and get home. The scam was already done, I had the cash
on me. I could sit at home for a few days and then go back to work
pretending I learnt a lot from our investigation. No one would
really care. And regarding the little girl, well… What’s done is
done.
I sipped
the remains of my cold coffee.
I had
already spent all day back at home, then I’d come here to get the
overnight express. I would have a five hour drive, and then wait
till morning for the regional bus to Kilkis. Then, find a hotel,
freshen up, go straight to work cause you are on billable time. It
would be tiresome.
I
sighed.
I wanted
to do this, I wanted to work, to be a CDI guy, whatever that was.
Dunno if its exciting or whatever, it was a way to contribute. Not
doing anything was the worst thing in the world. And now I had a
job that would entail trips to the country and I’d try to cheat
myself out of that? No way.
A honk
startled me from my phase-out. There were other honks as well, but
this one seemed to address me specifically.
Zoe had
come up to the bus parking space and honking me. Two bus drivers
and a guy that seemed to work there was yelling at her.
“
Hey, you can’t be in here! It’s for bus and cargo only,” a
man said.
She
rolled down the window and flipped a cigarette butt to the floor.
“I’m picking up bipedal cargo, be out in a sec.”
“
Oh OK, quick as you can,” the man said and resumed his
duties.
She
wasn’t allowed to drive in here of course. It is accessible, and
vans come in here all the time but civilian cars need to go to a
side-road and pick up people from there. I couldn’t contain a
smile.
She
gestured at me as if I was a monkey.
I didn’t
move a muscle. “How did you know you’d find me here?”
She
shrugged. “The overnight bus is cheaper. I knew you’d wait all
day.”
“
What changed your mind?”
She lit
up another cigarette as if it was a fuse. “Poly, just refund that
damn ticket and hop on.”