Shopalooza

January.  A dark late afternoon ice wind blows down a steep Small Town street.  Audrey hugs herself warm and Marc cradles her, his arm around her shoulder.  Bundled up, they amble down the cobblestone street high on dreamWater, Shopalooza exploding around them.  Shopalooza!  Packed streets!  Gaudy insanity!  Mind-bending multi-media happenings!  The filtering preferences on their chips are set to NONE—wide open to experience the full onslaught of marketing-whipped hysteria of the most outrageously unbridled, sublimely kitsch capitalist consumer carnival of the year.  A second chance in case you didn’t score at Xmas, or Chanukah, or The Three Kings, or Kwanzaa, or whatever gift giving extravaganza you subscribe to.  A second chance to score your deepest desires.  Want stuff?  There’s stuff.  Endless stuff.  Seriously expensive stuff.  Dirt cheap stuff.  Stuff not your thing?  Streaming services are ready to oblige.  You want SIM?  No problem.  Software loaded, magical mystery tour ready to launch.  Fat wallet?  Armani’s waiting.  Thin wallet?  Prices slashed.  Empty wallet?  Layaway plans available.  Credit swiped out?  Let’s talk.  Repo man knocking on the door?  Hey, the Shopalooza spectacle’s free.  Kickass light shows, free!  Trippy holos, free!  Bitchin augmented reality overlays, free!  Full-on simulated reality SIMtrip samples, free!

From within the sea of fevered shoppers blitzed-out on a shopping high a glamorous female face radiating like a rainbow surfaces.  She regards Audrey and Marc with big beautiful sparkling multi-coloured eyes.  Her head expands to fill their vision, a Wheel of Fortune spinning on her forehead.  Way fuKool!  This can’t be in Real!  A Holo?  An overlay?  SIM in the mind?  Or she’s in Real but flying high on dreamWater converts Real into la-la land warped to the phantasmagoric max?  Does it matter?  It’s all about the experience!  Her long, luscious eyelashes slowly close, her eyes open again and ‘BINGO!’ flashes, spelled out in shimmering letters.

“Congratulations!” her feminine lips softly mouth as her graceful hand appears and reaches out.  Her face is no longer expanded, maybe it never was, and now she’s just standing there all bewitching showgirl in rhinestones, feathers, and fishnets.  “Touch my finger,” she says with a demure smile and a sway of her hips, “to see what you just won--”

“Allons nous?”  Tempted, Mark makes to take his glove off, “shall we?”

“Not on your life!” Audrey snaps and yanks Marc’s hand away.

“But chère, why not?  Is this not the point of Shopalooza?”

“Marc, she could be infected!”

“I’m perfectly clean,” says the glamorous show girl with just a hint of a sulky offended pout, “and I’m not deepWeb.  I’m licensed.”

“Maybe,” Audrey quips, “but Marc and I only do safe sex.”  Her ice blue eyes sparkle.

Arm in arm they walk away through the crazy carnival, down the labyrinth of narrow medieval streets until they hit party central, the packed to bursting Small Town Square.  Booze flows freely, the smell of weed fills the air.  Non-stop holo fireworks flash in the sky dancing to the blaring sounds of top-ten elekroJive hits.  Parents shepherd enraptured kids trying hard not to lose them in the crowd.  Couples cuddle and sway and stare in open mouthed wonder.  The single and looking are dressed to kill as they vogue in Real and flaunt their avatars in SIM, hoping to impress, to dazzle, to contact that special someone that will change life forever.  Or odds being what they are, at least find a day-tripper one-way ticket to a steamy passionate night.

A stunning pale woman with titanium-tinted dandelion hair appears, pauses, and coyly flashes leaf-green eyes at Marc.  Is he with that platinum blonde ice queen he’s holding?  Probably, but who cares!  It doesn’t matter!  Dandelion Girl has just hit cyber paydirt with Marc!  A summation of all her likes, dislikes, dating swipes, doubleTap raves, favourite clubs, vacation spots, activities, fixations, desires, erotic obsessions, sex preferences, hang-ups, turn-ons, turn-offs—everything has been processed in a nano second by the buzzCupid algorithm, collated and compared with Marc’s.  Perfect match!  Hot sex guaranteed!

‘Wanna fuck?’ Dandelion Girl’s text lands directly in Marc’s head.  She smiles mischievously and sashays off, knowing contact has been made.

“Marc, that woman just flashed you!”

Merde!  “Really?”  Flustered, Marc attempts an almost but not quite convincing stupefied look. 

“Yes really!  She just flashed and downloaded you!”

“Downloaded me?  Chère, could it be it’s the dreamWater that makes you imagine it?”

“No, I’m not imagining anything!”

“Je ne sais pas—I don’t know.  It is maybe possible.  There is all these mysterious icons flashing in my inbox...”

“Marc!” Audrey’s ice eyes burn.  “You cad!  You’ve subscribed to a dating service, haven’t you?”

“A what?”

“Don’t bullshit me!”  The frost princess’ temper heats up.  “Did you or did you not?”

“Subscribe?  Peut-être.  I signed for the free services when I got my new chip...”

“Right, free for a month.  May I look at your Settings?”

“You want me to let you in?”  Marc presses Audrey up against a building.  “It turns me on when you come inside my head,” he whispers into her ear.

“Nice try, dear,” Audrey’s glove caresses his sandpaper cheek, “but you’re not buttering me up.  Just let me in.”  Marc touches his forehead to hers and they meet at his Application Manager.

“Ha!  Here it is!  You’re signed up for a one-month trial with buzzCupid!”

“buzzCupid?  Ah, oui, c’est possible, perhaps.”

“Oui, c’est possible, perhaps?!  Don’t give me this crap, Marc!  If you were that stupid, I wouldn’t be going out with you!  You know you’re on buzzCupid flashing your stats to every loose hussy out there!  And you know your preferences are set for a minimum 80% compatibility!  And you also know that that hussy sure as hell is going to be contacting you because your compatibility profiles hit 92%!  Fucking 92%!  I saw how she looked at you!  Just my luck, I fall in love, and you run into your buzzCupid fuckBuddy jackpot!”

“I am sorry, I had no idea all this happened… I am high and it’s hard to follow these stats and profiles.”

“Marc!  You’re a bad liar!  Of course you knew!  There’s nothing to follow when you hit 92%!  All the bells and whistles go off!  Fucking buzzCupid hits you like a hammer inside your fucking head!”  Audrey glares at Marc.  Why on earth did I have to fall for a Frenchman!

“At any rate, chère, she is the one with the bad luck because I have my 100%.”  Marc moves in to kiss Audrey.

“And--” she deflects his kiss, “you’re a fucking pussyTroll because you have the wham-bam-thank you ma’am Day Tripper fast fuck preference on ON!”

 “Okay, okay, but honestly, Audrey, I forgot all about the buzzCupid.  This is the first time it goes off.”

“Yeah, sure.  Did Anton put you up to this?  He was with you, wasn’t he?”

“When I got the chip?  Oui, he came with me.  He suggested that because maybe I only had a 50% chance with you, and since the buzzCupid was free for a month,” Marc shrugged his shoulders, “free is free...and you never know.”

“I see, so it’s all Anton’s fault and I should go kill him…?”

Before Marc can answer, holographic Amazon swoosh logos spring out of the ground, one after another, and whirl into a churning tornado of spinning light that loops around Audrey and Marc, encircling them in shimmering dust.  They slip into SIM and find themselves standing in a stark white spotlight suspended in Stygian darkness.  A bookish but well-built young man steps out of the black ether and addresses Audrey. 

“I can help you out here,” he says.  He’s fashionably attired in a grey nubby tweed Krizio suit.  He has ruggedly handsome features and a roguish intelligent glint in his eyes. 

What the...?  Audrey immediately recognizes her Siren.  Sirens are a perfect synthesis of shopping assistant, close friend, romantic interest and object of sexual desire, dispensing advice and seduction in equal measures.  Amazon software creates a Siren for anyone who so much as glances at one of their webSites, holoSites, or SIMsites.  Sirens are unique to every consumer and constantly updated.  And very private.  Like confessing to your priest or your shrink, whatever happens between you and your Siren stays with you and your Siren.  No one, Amazon assures us, will ever know anything about you and your Siren, not even Amazon.  So, Audrey supposes, this means only I see him, and Marc doesn’t.  Right?

But then, who the hell is that minx making eyes at Marc?  Is she there or is it the dreamWater?  No, she’s there!  Damn she’s beautiful!   Tall, slim, boutique Zhang Fan jacket and tight skirt, jet-black stiletto boots, long jet-black hair, dark eyes, bright red lipstick, red beret at just the right angle.  Wait, is she Marc’s Siren?  Shit, does that mean he sees mine?  She glances at Marc.  He’s looking stiff and supremely uncomfortable.  Fuck!  How’s this possible?  We see each other’s Siren!

“This is most humiliating.” Marc mutters, also wondering why this is happening and if it’s because he’s tripping because it can’t be happening.  “I assume this is your Siren?”  The Siren reminds him of Indiana Jones in his professor clothes.  Visceral emotions of extreme jealousy and insecurity suddenly seethe from way deep inside Marc.

“Audrey, I feel like punching him in the face.”

“Why on earth would you want to punch a Siren?”

“Because he’s your Siren.”

“Marc, Sirens don’t exist, they’re just a digital fantasy.”

“This is exactly the problem.  It a fantasy of who you really desire.”

Audrey laughs at the embarrassing tripped-out absurdity of it all. 

“This is funny?”

“Yeah,” Audrey giggles “talk about desires—your Siren looks like Tanya the revolutionary.”  Audrey isn’t sure why she says that.  Maybe it’s the beret.   Or the dreamWater.  “Okay, a very fashionably sexy revolutionary.  Is that really your type?  I would have never guessed.”

“And what is wrong with being committed to political ideals?” Marc demands.

“I just expected you’d be into someone...maybe, you know, less provocative temptress, more arty...”

“You mean more like you?”

“Yeah, why not?  At least a little like me.  I’ve got nothing in common with that femme fatale vamp.”

“My name is Jeanette,” Marc’s femme fatale vamp points out.

“Oh, so it’s Jeanette,” Audrey says with derision, “you’re a real hot number I bet.”

“Maybe,” Jeanette smiles.

“She’s very...effectual...” Marc says hastily.

“Of course, I am that too,” Jeanette cuddles up to Marc and purrs close in his ear just loud enough for Audrey to hear.  “I have some items I’ve been dying to show you.”  She casually opens her Zhang Fan jacket to expose a Nicola Feu sheer top, no bra.  Her breasts are perfect, the nipples hard. 

“I can see the items she’s been dying to show you,” Audrey observes sarcastically, “I bet she’s effectual.”

“No doubt she learns this from you.”

“Me!?  Excuse me, I’ve never met her, and I don’t sell shit with my tits!”

“But I am sure the Amazon Siren algorithm knows all about you, and you are most effectual in what you do.  Chère, you are Switch.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?  Are you saying I’m a geek?”

“I didn’t say that, but if you are a geek, you are a very sexy geek.”

“Nice try.  You think you’re buttering me up but you’re digging a hole.  And if you’re into geeky sexy, what’s with Tanya?”

“Jeanette,” Jeanette corrects Audrey.

“Whatever.  Is she really your ultimate fantasy?” Audrey points accusingly at Jeanette, “because if she is…”

“So we only discuss my Siren?” Marc cuts her off, “what about your professor Indiana Jones?”

“My name is Phillipe,” Audrey’s Siren politely bows very slightly, “I’ve heard much about you recently and I’m very pleased to finally make your acquaintance...”

“I cannot say the same,” Marc replies.

“Don’t be so touchy.  At least Phillipe resembles you and dresses a lot like you, unlike Jeanette here.”  Audrey scrutinizes Jeanette.  “I wouldn’t be caught dead in that outfit.”

“Her outfit is très chic,” Marc objects.  He considers his taste impeccable.

“If you’re into slutty designer shit,” Audrey replies.  Of course, Marc is right, the outfit is very stylish and elegant, but Jeanette is rubbing her the wrong way.

“Your girlfriend seems upset,” Jeanette says to Marc in a soft voice.

“I’m not upset!” hisses Audrey.

Phillipe catches Audrey’s eye, “Audrey, Jeanette has a point, we’ve all gotten off on the wrong foot.  Maybe if we all treated each other to a little surprise, just a little something to make things right?”

“Excuse me, we are all going to treat each other?!  You two are fucking Sirens!” Audrey snaps, “you don’t count!”

“Phillipe is just trying to help,” Jeanette says, “and he’s right—a little gift can smooth a rough patch in a relationship.”  She leans in very close to Marc and whispers, “I see Audrey has a birthday coming up, and I have some wonderful suggestions for a great gift, and I can offer you up to 50% off—”

“I heard that, miss Marc’s babe!” hisses Audrey, “and besides, my birthday isn’t for another three weeks.”

“But it’s good to start thinking about it now,” Jeanette’s voice is all honey.

“Yes, I concur,” Phillipe says and then addresses Marc, “wouldn’t you agree?  I know Audrey very well, so I can help.”

“Oh, god!” Audrey groans, “Phillipe, you’re not supposed to be talking to anyone but me!”

“He doesn’t have to.”  Jeanette tilts her head ever so slightly and smiles seductively.  “Marc and I know how to work together,” in a sexy honeyed voice, sounding as if she were suggesting she and Marc retire to the bedroom.  “Don’t we, dear?”

“Oh, so he’s your ‘dear’!” Audrey rolls her eyes, “what the hell is going on?”

“We’re your personal assistants,” Phillipe says, all decorous and debonair, “and we’re just doing our job.”

“Exactly,” Jeanette sidles up to Phillipe, “but given how things are going, perhaps it’s best if Phillipe and I figure out the most suitable presents without you and arrange everything.”

“And don’t worry,” Phillipe adds, “we will find good deals.”

“What!”  Audrey explodes, “you will not arrange anything!  You’re just dying to sell us crap using any excuse!  And why am I seeing my boyfriend’s goddamned slutty Siren!  What the fuck is going on!  I’m done with this shit!  Exit SIM!”

Nothing happens.  ‘Exit SIM’ means SIM disappears.  Immediately.  It’s like a safe word if you’re doing bondage.  And it’s legally mandated international protocol.

“I said exit SIM!”

Still nothing.

“Let us the fuck out of here!” Audrey shouts, “it’s not fucking legal for you to fucking hold us in fucking SIM against our fucking will!   Release us, NOW!”

“Then touch my finger,” an ethereal voice says.

The blackness dissipates, along with Jeanette and Phillipe, and instead the Wheel of Fortune lady, still all showgirl sexy, is standing in front of them, Wheel of Fortune spinning and her eyes swirling in spirals.

“Go ahead, touch my finger,” her lovely feminine lips softly mouth.  Her hand appears and reaches out and she dips her shoulder flirtatiously. 

“NO!” screams Audrey, “what is this, Groundhog Day?  We’ve been here before!”

“And you don’t want to be here again, do you?” Wheel of Fortune lady asks.  “You know if you stay, you’ll just end up arguing even more.  Never trust Sirens, they can mess up relationships.  I’m here to help.  This is for your own good, so touch my finger and it’s done.” 

“What’s done?”

“I’ll arrange everything.  You’re out of SIM, and I’ll disappear.”

“No way!  Arrange what?” Audrey demands, “why should we trust you?”

“I’m Amazon certified.  Do you wish to inspect my certificate?”

“If you work for Amazon why are you dissing your Sirens?”

“I tell the truth.  I’m the supervising AI.”

“So you admit Sirens lie?”

“No, they don’t lie.  They’re salesBots.  They do what it takes to close a deal.”

“And you don’t?”

“No, I have a higher calling.  My interest is to keep you happy and everything running smoothly.”

“So just let us out of this fucking SIM!!” Audrey screams, “and we’ll be happy!!”

“It’s not so easy.  You’re stuck in a loop.  The loop was initiated because your Sirens met each other, and at that point their algorithm’s logic branches crossed creating a data flow crossover that in turn led to a nasty halting problem.”

“And who’s godamned fault is that?” Audrey demands.

“Yours,” the Wheel of Fortune lady tells Audrey.  “Your chip isn’t ICEE or UL certified.  It’s unorthodox security protocol short-circuited Siren security protocols.”

“That’s because it’s a DraxLabs chip and it’s meant to disrupt invasive protocols, which means your fucking Sirens have invasive protocols imbedded in them!”

“Nonetheless, these are legally certified protocols while DraxLab chip’s protocols are not.  We are not responsible for whatever consequences that entails.  You are.  Nevertheless, I have arranged a patch that will get you out of this SIM’s logic loop.  All you have to do is accept the terms and conditions by touching my finger.”

“And that means we have to purchase fucking what!?”

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that.  Only your Sirens know, and due to privacy protocols, I cannot access whatever communications they share with you.”

“What!! I thought you said you’re the supervising AI!!”

“Yes, I am, however I must still follow legal…”

“Maybe we have to listen,” Marc butts in, “or we never leave this SIM.”

Audrey shoots him a look.

Marc shrugs, removes his glove, touches the Wheel of Fortune lady’s finger, feels a tingle of sexual arousal, and BINGO!  She vanishes, the SIM vanishes, and they’re again in the crowded wintry Small Town Square.

“That is so fucked up in so many ways!” Audrey yells at Marc.  “You should be ashamed of yourself, endorsing this behavior!”

“Audrey, qu'est ce que tu veux?  This is a consequence of your hot-rodded DraxLabs chip, non?  Do you want to take on Amazon?  Even with your hacking skills we might have been in SIM a long time before you got us out.”

Audrey is about to answer but Marc raises his hand.  “And besides,” he says, “the receipt for your birthday present just dropped in my In Box.  50% off!”