“Sho what’sh ze plan?” I ask while munching my hamburger.
Abhi points his finger at me. “Don’t speak with your mouth full!”
“Yeah, it’s seriously disgusting,” spits Boobies with her mouth full of hamburgers.
“You too, you mongoloid!”
I swallow and point my finger at him in exchange. “It’s a waste of time to wait until you’ve swallowed your food before speaking when all you said is perfectly intelligible! You’re just bad at understanding simply coded messages, Mister IT genius!”
“Are you looking for a fight, you uneducated simple-minded scrounger, scavenging homeless freeloader shameless parasite?!”
This succession of insults gives me a headache.
“Are you still mad because I spat cocoa on your tiger blanket? I said I’m sorry, okay! I even humbly licked it to show my goodwill.”
“I didn’t ask you to lick it! You have been raised by savages! You deserve to stay homeless forever!”
“It was a pure accident! I put it in the laundry now, there is nothing more I can do!”
“Hey, are you done fighting? The neighbour is gonna knock again. If he calls the cops, I’ll kill you on the spot,” says Boobies while pointing at me.
“I’m not the one shouting the loudest!” I say, trying to save my ass.
“Yeah, but you’re the most useless.”
The two of them stare at me, frowning, and I have no other choice but to stop talking at all if I want to sleep there another night.
“Okay, so now that you both calmed down, I’ll tell you what we’re doing tomorrow…”
“Mr. Mask, would you say two words about yourself? Why did you decide to reveal your face to the world?”
We just watched a ridiculous presentation of the old man’s financial achievements, but I could barely see anything without my glasses.
“Calm down and just do as we trained.”
“If I have to say two words, it would be uh … rich and cool!”
I had to say something quickly while Abhi was making up the response, but this is just too ridiculous, and I feel like fainting.
“My company has faced some traumatic events recently: the acts of terrorism using our recent models of robot vacuum cleaners you have all heard of. In order to put an end to the rumours, we have taken the decision to appear in public.”
I repeat religiously what Abhi recites in my earphone without any transition between that and my stupid response.
I sense a wave of confusion rise in the audience and can hear some whispering to each other, wondering if this is a prank.
“You’re a big fucking idiot, you know that?”
I’m trying my best!!!
The emcee tries to save my face by changing the topic. “A-alright, let’s try some questions now. Please raise your hand to get a microphone.”
A bunch of people raise their hands, but I have no way to tell how many since I can’t see past 2 metres in front of me.
“Yes, Mister in the front.”
They pass a microphone through the ranks until the designated person takes it and speaks.
“Hi Mr. Mask, how are you? You look rather young for a CEO. Are you really 33? How are you handling everything?”
I KNEW IT!!
It’s been days I’ve been telling these two morons that there is no way I can be taken for a 33-year-old!!!
“Uh uhhhhh, I’m doing great, thank—!”
“Thank you for asking. I am indeed fairly young, but I’ve been learning the job with my dad since I was little. We naturally have several associates who help me all day long, so I don’t have to handle the whole company by myself.”
I proceed to repeat, but this time I have “thank you” as a transition. I’m getting better at this!
“Good job, idiot.”
Cold sweat drops from my forehead.
“Great! Let’s ask somebody else… You, Miss on the left?”
“Thank you. I was just wondering… You talked about the ‘terrorist’ attacks in your introduction, but for most of us, they looked like incidents provoked by their bad manufacture! How can you explain to your clients the fact that already two of your company’s robots exploded dramatically? How can you ensure that it won’t happen again? Have you been sued by the Meritocratic for the incident? You lost a lot of stock actions in the week since that event, and your sales are in free fall. What is your next move? How are you going to save your company from bankruptcy?”
“Please, please, one question at a time!”
Thank you, emcee…
I can hear the gears in Abhi’s brain operate from my earphone, while mine just decided to give up, and with my blank empty eyes, they might think I’m having a stroke.
Remembering our training, I press the button on my remote control to start projecting the slides we prepared beforehand. I take a deep breath, and in a moment of clarity, I instinctively respond:
“Please look at this: This is our robot’s composition from the materials we used to their chemical composition. Ask any expert, and they will tell you there is no way these robots can make explosions like the ones we saw at the Meritocratic without additional help—real powerful explosives. Why? Because the materials we use are fireproof to prevent exactly this situation. Even during a short-circuit, the ignition should be minimal since the system is protected by ventilation, water-cooling, and is built with programs and inverters that automatically block the current in case of an emergency. It is not our goal to sabotage our own product, and we’re doing everything we can to prevent a similar situation in the future. We haven’t been sued by the hotel because we have been working with each other for a long time, and our insurance can take care of the bills. The stock options we lost are a shame, but that’s exactly the reason why we’re here today. We want to publicly apologize to the victims and show our goodwill to our clients so they don’t feel betrayed and understand how critical and exceptional the situation is.”
I actually have no clue what I’m talking about, and if the hotel hasn’t sued anyone, it is mainly because we’re protected by the agency.
“What the hell is going on, Schwa? The idiot has found a brain! Quick, begin the second phase!”
“Now, the information I’m about to share with you is perfectly confidential, but I need everybody to understand what kind of crisis we are facing.”
The screen slides to the photofit of a sturdy blonde man, and a wave of whispers ripples through the audience as they start taking bursts of pictures. My mind feels empty, as if in a trance.
“With the help of the Meritocratic’s security cameras, we could reconstruct the face of the most likely culprit of those acts of terrorism. He was helped by a woman that we could not identify, but they were both present in the hotel before the explosion, stepped inside the suite, and have disappeared since. Their bodies could not be found in the rubble. This information has, of course, been sent to the police, but I want everyone here to work together with us in order to find those individuals and bring them to justice. We have one last piece of information concerning him, and that’s his name: at the most critical moment, we found a recording, seconds after the detonation, of the woman who is calling him Darius—”
“NO!!!”
From the crowd of whispering journalists, restlessly pushing the buttons of their cameras and taking notes, a scandalized voice emerges.
Standing up in an indignant manner, those enraged green eyes belong to ESMERALDA.
“Why would she come in the first place? The trap is so obvious!” I ask.
I am sitting cross-legged on one of the high bar stools in the open kitchen, turning as fast as possible.
Boobies was typing on her laptop in front of me, one leg on the other, but she stops to take her glasses off and begins munching on the frame. She gazes into the air.
“There are many reasons, you see. First of all, I’ve been spreading the rumour that some information about the two culprits of the hotel’s explosion will be revealed, but only through the agency. She somehow has access to that since she was at the rendezvous in the hotel. Secondly, the press conference has some rules: no smartphones, no TV, no radio, no internet-connected tools. You understand what that means? No direct communication. I like old school, hahaha. If you want to know what is going on there in real time, then you should be there in person. All the info will be released to the public afterward.”
“Will journalists agree to that in this day and age?”
She shrugs. “It’s actually not that hard to set up. The character we made up is an eccentric. We just have to say you like vintage, like a person with good taste does! Lastly, she is an amateur. Proud and selfish. She’s got her reasons to step into the crime world, but they are ridiculous. A smart person would have gone on with their life, but she decided to put an end to it.”
I can’t help but agree with that. People who do this by choice are the stupidest.
“The dumbest part is that she didn’t do it alone,” she continues. “That guy, DARIUS, he’s her real weakness. He looks like he’s protecting her, but it’s the opposite. He’s her weak point. He got blown away by the old man, so we don’t have to think about him at all. He’s not even on the bounty, but it’s so obvious she cares more about him than her own life. That’s just proof that they didn’t think about anything. So, if we do the opposite and totally ignore her to focus on him… Then she’ll be forced to put herself in between.”
She grins and puts her glasses back on. Back to typing, she joyfully announces, “Mat.”
SHE’S HERE!
“Schwa! We’ve got her! Schwa!!”
Why is she not answering?
“Miss, do you have something to say?” asks the emcee.
“Yes! This person is a usurper! I’m putting an end to this joke of a conference!” she exclaims.
“You have no right to do that,” I say. “What proof do you have to support your claim?” I’m too invested in my role to stop now.
“I don’t need to prove anything,” she says, walking backward. “Because you are all dead!”
That marks the beginning of the third phase.
Since everybody here knows the face of her beloved DARIUS, everybody here has to die.
And so, with joints popping, four armed men wielding shotguns burst into the press conference.
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