Myth Gods Tech - Omnibus Edition: Science Fiction Meets Greek Mythology In The God Complex Universe (45 page)

She
stood up and smiled, putting her stuff in her bag, arranging her
desk, pulling down the blinds.

Scrooge
grunted at her, “But I want you here the next day half an hour
earlier!”

“
Yes mister,” she said, and watered the plants, cleaned up her
cup of tea, picked up his cup and put a new cup of water in the
boiler. She left it boiling, cleaned up the tiny little kitchen,
went to turn off the Christmas lights she had brought to decorate
the office, remembered Mr. Scrooge had already demanded her to stop
wasting power and turned it off, went back to her desk and sent the
accounts of the day to her boss, went to his desk, threw away the
trash, dusted off his hanging coat, leaned to his computer, pulled
up the accounts so he could update them as soon as the server was
running again, went back to the kitchen, poured hot tea, brought it
to his desk savouring its warmth for a second too long, stood in
front of his desk ready to leave and then said
goodnight.

“
Good night Clara,” Scrooge said with the tone a boss has when
he allows his employee to leave.

“
Maybe we should do the upgrade Mr. Tsifoutis,” she said
hesitantly. “Our service depends on it, it’s been years. I’ve shown
you the cost, it’s not that high and…”

Scrooge
raised his hand interrupting her, “I know. I’ll think about
it.”

She was
referring to their service, which was their object of trade really.
Scrooge was running an accounting internet service for small
businesses. Despite that their platform hadn’t been updated in,
pretty much ever, they were still competitive due to their low
prices. The cost was kept down of course, by skimping on things
like proper furniture, internet hosting, required employees and,
office heating.

“
Merry Christmas sir,” she said cordially and turned to the
door.

“
Bah. A marketing ploy I tell you. Don’t you listen to
anything I say woman?”

“
Of course I do, but Merry Christmas anyways,” she said and
she meant it.

As she
was opening the door, Scrooge’s cousin showed up. He was fat and
huge and was always huffing from exertion, making his cheeks red.
He made a great Santa Claus, so he showed up in costume. “Hello
Miss Clara! Merry Christmas to you,” he said and presented a small
gift to her. “For your son.” Then he reached into his red Santa bag
and fished out a party horn as well.

“
Merry Christmas Mr. Tsifoutis,” she smiled back. “I’m sure
he’ll love it.”

“
Ho ho ho!” the cousin bellowed out and then leaned in to
whisper, “Is Scrooge still here?”

“
Yes,” she replied, “Go right in, he’s just waiting for the
system to unfreeze.”

“
Unfreeze? Why, in this cold it might take some time,” he said
with jolly, half-stepping in the office.

She
sneezed and then blew her nose loudly like a trumpet, that echoed
into the corridors. Cousin Santa blew his own party horn in a
similar note.

They
both laughed and wished each other happy holidays.

Scrooge
hid his face in his palms. He didn’t really want to face his
cousin, he was dodging his invite for days.

The cousin Santa came in and bellowed, “Ho ho ho dear
cousin!” and blew his party horn, in a loud
prrr
. He then went to the decorated
Christmas lights and turned them on, illuminating the place in
various flickering colours.

Scrooge
stood up and ran to the lights, turning them off. “Are you trying
to bankrupt me man?”

“
Come on, a few LEDs wont make a real difference. Be merry! Be
jolly!” he said, blowing his party horn and turning the Christmas
lights on again.

Scrooge
turned them off. “Bah! It’s just a marketing ploy.”

Santa
turned them on. “Will you come to our Christmas dinner
tomorrow?”

Scrooge
turned them off. “No. I have work to do at home. Clara won’t be
coming to work tomorrow, I have to keep up the pace.”

Santa
turned them on. “You can’t possibly work on Christmas Day! Come to
us for dinner. There’ll be turkey! And sweets! And chocolate. We’ll
have a merry old time…”

Scrooge
turned them off. “A waste, overpriced dinners when you can’t afford
them. Don’t be coming to me for loans in a few weeks.”

He was
referring of course, to actual loans. He’d never lent out money
just like that, not even to family, whatever little of both he had
left. They were actual personal loans, signed in triplicate,
incurring interest at “market average” rates.

Santa
sighed and gave up. “Fine. I know you’ve seen my invitation days
ago. I know the message I left to Clara was passed to you. This is
just some excuse, I don’t know why you don’t want to spend the
holiday with family. Anyway, the offer stands. Our door is always
open for you,” he said, blew out the party horn one last time,
though it was something sad this time, and left.

Scrooge
shut the door and sat back down to his uncomfortable office chair.
He pressed a button on his computer and waited for the server to
respond. It took more than two minutes for it to spit out an
“error: unreachable” message.

It was
fine. He could wait. The hosting service he used was the cheapest
one there is, and that meant it was poorly maintained and came with
customer support that didn’t really care.

He
picked up the tea, that was scalding hot when Clara brought it but
now was barely warmer than the freezing room, and sipped, while
staring outside into the dark Christmas Athens. It was still
afternoon but it was already pitch going for black.

Someone
knocked on the door and he stood up, protesting loudly all the way.
“What now? I told you I won’t come to the damn dinner,” he mumbled
and opened the door.

He
looked down and saw three little children, fluffed out with big
coloured coats and knit caps and gloves. The girl was Romani, the
boy was Greek and the second boy was Nigerian.

They
cheered in unison, “Na ta poume?” which was the protocol of
Christmas Carol initiation. They didn’t really have the patience to
wait for a proper reply so they began jingling away their little
triangles and singing.

It was
so merry and sweet.

Scrooge
yelled at them and shushed them. “Stop this racket! Stop at once.
Who told you to start with this cacophony?”

They
extended their little gloved hands and waited for their treat.
Their paycard was in hand, a simple tap from another would confirm
a small-amount transaction instantly.

“
I’m not giving you anything, you little extortionists! Coming
here uninvited, mangling out a couple of verses and then demanding
payment. No. And you, aren’t you a Muslim?” he said and pointed at
the little Roma girl.

“
We like Christmas, it’s a time for family and happiness,” she
replied with her sweet little voice. “That’s what mommy says,” she
added.

Scrooge
squinted. “Do you know how insane that is? Celebrating the birth of
Christ from another religion? Tell your mother that I won’t be
fooled by those pigtails and those big round eyes. A fine scam, if
you ask me. Getting money every year without a receipt,” he
nodded.

The
children looked at one another, but since they were stuffed like
turkeys they had to turn their whole bodies to exchange glances.
They kept their hands up, paycards in hand, but a little lower
now.

“
And you,” Scrooge said, pointing at the Nigerian boy. “What
are you?”

The
little black boy shrugged. “I’m Greek mister.”

“
So you are Orthodox Christian?”

“
Yes sir. My name is Nico, from the Saint Nicholas,” the boy
replied, the words repeated by heart. He gifted the bitter man a
shiny-white smile that could melt your heart and fill you up with
hope.

“
Blasted immigrants,” Scrooge said and slammed the door to
their face.

Scrooge
sat on his desk and hit the button once again. His accounting
service attempted to connect for two whole minutes and then spat
out an error.

He
exhaled, his breath visible in the air. He picked up the phone, but
all he got was a recorded message. His assistant had already tried
that of course. He thought he wouldn’t mind waiting for the server
to reconnect, but the absence of a specific timeframe made him
weary. If he had known of a general amount of time it might take,
he would be willing to wait. But alas, this seemed it would keep
him up till the morning.

Scrooge
grunted and searched his emails for the long overdue report of the
service upgrade that was necessary. He didn’t print it of course,
toner was so damn expensive, as if it were made of gold particles.
Also, what about the environment? Yes, digital files are nice and
cheap. He put on his glasses and read the report his late business
partner had left him.

It
explained in detail the steps necessary to upgrade the accounting
service, to improve speed, customer experience and unlock some new
features. It was all ready and done, but it wasn’t yet needed for a
company this small, as it was when his partner was alive. As poor
Marco fell increasingly ill, the business growth was halted and was
left on the shoulders of Scrooge. He could manage just fine thank
you, but regarding the computer and technical aspects it was all on
his partner. Scrooge had shopped around for another computer
engineer, and they had all asked for an arm and a leg in cash.
Marco in his last days, stir-crazy from lying in bed all day, had
prepared the system update for when the company would pick up pace
again.

The
problem was, that the upgrade demanded even more powerful servers,
some shiny new gear with fancy names and numbers, all costing more
and more and more. Scrooge had been postponing the upgrade for a
long time. He checked the report’s date. Seven years? Has it really
been so long? Marco had planned for a year after his death, but
Scrooge hadn’t changed anything for six more years, to the dismay
of their customers and Miss Clara.

Scrooge
rubbed his chin and his hand hovered over the mouse. He never did
things in haste, but now, for some reason, something was itching
him. He clicked the long-forgotten button in their system and
initiated the update program his partner had set-up as his last
contribution.

The
computer began to process things, as it always does and Scrooge
relaxed, sure that the process was a lengthy one.

Where
the program ran, a face appeared in a video. Scrooge had to
straighten his glasses to see better and for a second he held his
breath. He hadn’t seen that face in so long, but it was clearly…
Marco’s face.

Marco’s
face was staring at him patiently. Then he moved slightly, and
Scrooge realised that the video had already began and Marco was
simply staring at his own monitor. He was pale and sickly,
illuminated harshly by the room-lamp and the monitor. His eyes were
sunken, his lips a thin line. These had been his final
days.

Marco cleared his throat. “Oh, it’s on? Hello Scrooge. You do
know of course, that it’s by that nickname that people are
referring to you. I suspect you know, but don’t really care since
it empowers your reputation as being tough in business. Anyway,
they are referring of course to Disney’s Scrooge McDuck, from those
old cartoons. The character though, comes from an older archetypal
character, that of Ebenezer Scrooge, in the book I have left for
you in my office. It is a remarkable tale, centuries old that has
seeped into our minds. You and I are pragmatists, I know that I
can’t really scare you into changing your ways. That Scrooge, a
stingy bitter old man, was visited by three spirits, that showed
him the Christmas past, present and yet to come. There are no
spirits to do the same to you, but I hope that this message of me
one year after my death will bear the gravitas necessary to sink in
your thoughts. Please, my invaluable partner, please, read it and
think about your own life. As I lay here in my bed, between feeling
ill from medicine that was meant to make me well and vomiting from
the medicine that combat the first one’s side-effects, I have had a
long time to think my life over. Money is not all there is in this
life. The truly precious stuff can’t be bought. And if you have
them, treasure them while you can because time is fleeting. By now,
I assume your business acumen has brought our company -
your
company I guess -
to its previous positive profitability. I know you like to keep a
tight leash on expenses and that sometimes drives a wedge between
you and people, so please don’t do that. Do not make the same
mistakes I did. Do not die alone. It’s still early, there is still
time to change your fate. Merry Christmas, dear friend.”

The
video ended and Scrooge lay silent, staring at the paused digital
ghost. Marco had been more than his business partner. He was his
friend, he trusted him with finances, with decisions that would
affect both their lives. What little competition there was between
them was nothing but a game, a nod from one to another to push
forward, to do good business deals, to bring in more customers, to
make more money. For both of them.