D. Cartier

This is a story that was told to me by my friend Olivia Lapin. 

I think that she told me more or less the truth.

I actually do remember seeing the column of smoke one night. An angry black cloud reflecting the lights of the downtown waterfront. It was a few months back, and if you were here in Seattle at the time you might remember it too. Or you saw all those videos on Tik-Tok and Instagram.

Caveat before I start.

Per my desire to not be arrested, I, Jamie Mercer, which is not my actual name, have changed certain portions of this story so as to not incriminate myself, or those around me.

Other than, of course, the details that relate directly to my friend Olivia Lapin, whom still demands having all the credit for the hard work she puts in to stuff like this. Despite that credit being literally how being found guilty works.

I did also add a few little artistic touches for fun. They’re fun for me at least.

Anyway.

The purple and yellow bus splashed down its amber street-light illuminated route. Under the interior florescent lights of the bus, the riders were each huddled into their own worlds. A man in his 20’s, backpack perched on his lap, scrolled through his phone, trying to find something to listen to on his way home. A woman in a puffy turquoise vest and creme knit cap with a pompom wondering if she over dressed for how warm the night turned out to be. Another man was asleep in his fortress of plastic bags, and was thinking of nothing as he was having the best deepest sleep in all of Seattle. Finally, there was Olivia, just staring. Unblinking, brown eyes narrowed. Arms folded across her chest. She was wearing a deep black evening dress, high cut neckline, sleeveless, with her skirt cut up to her thigh on the left side. It was provided for by her friend Pauline, and was designed to be as practical as possible for the task ahead, while still fitting the destination. Except for the high heels, those weren’t practical. Cross legged, Olivia looked down at them. Pauline had insisted Olivia had to start with them on, but also gave her some comfortable flats for later.

Olivia looked up, yanked the pull cord, and the bus came to a stop. She grabbed her sparkling gold purse, and thanked the bus driver as she hopped out. Her impractical high-heels click clacked, down a cement staircase, across the asphalt road, and through the valet strewn parking lot. Once at the far end, the click-clacks took on a deep resonant tone, as she joined the fancily dressed crowd waiting on the dock.

Olivia waited, and spooled herself up for the task ahead. It starts now.

“Invite?” Asked the large bouncer, broad shoulders holding up a thick hoodie and his ID badge.

Olivia fumbled through her purse, batting aside her wallet, lipstick, taser, flats and Orca card, until she finally found her phone. She swiped it open quickly, revealing the QR code. She showed the bouncer her screen and smiled, just enough. It was her practiced “everything is fine and so am I” smile. The sort of thing she liked to bust out in moments like this. It was perfect for disarming people and hiding any very present undercurrents of tension she had inside. The bouncer scanned Olivia’s phone with his own and smiled back in a way that made it seem like an attempt at charm, but it was ultimately lost in his boulder shaped head.

“Welcome to the party Ms. Bunny Lewison.” The bouncer croaked out in a baritone.

“Thanks wow, miss?! Thanks very much, that was cute” Olivia replied, placing a hand on his bulky chest, and pulling it away quickly. Feigning a, “oh I’m so sorry I just couldn’t help myself” look. She had been taught to pretend, but always liked to add her own flair to it. 

She gave a nervous laugh, that was more genuine than she would have liked, as she turned towards the yacht’s gangway. She had never tried to pull off anything so grand before, months of preparation had let up to this one night. A salty sea breeze, flavored by the smell of roasted canapés and the copious fumes of high proof, high end alcohol, wafted over her and made her shiver. She hated wearing a dress.

She was embarking upon the unnecessarily modern mega yacht, Muad’dib II, owned and  made to order for the tech CEO Andrew Holm. A man who placed bets with his parent’s money that paid out. Which according to him, was explicitly due to his own genius and hard work but was really due to the genius and hard work of hundreds of programmers, ridiculous luck, and the extremely open handed lobbyists he hired. But as a result of all that he was allowed to spend his money how he wished, and he wished to throw a party for the fancy people he knew to hob-nob, run the world a little, and gawk at his new toy boat and all of its blinky lights.

The Maud’dib II was 110 meters long, the exterior painted completely matte black, and blocky in shape. It was vaguely boat shaped, but looked like it was drawn by a 14 year old with a military fetish. It was, on its exterior, all angles and edges, like a creatively and poorly cut piece of tarnished onyx. The interior was various shades of gray, couches, galley, cabins, all various shades of non-color. The only ground given to a natural line was red stained wood decking. Something that would look sinister, if it wasn’t so ridiculous. It had been finished only 3 months before, designed by a dutch-monegasque firm, and built in Estonia. It had been allegedly made under the specific instruction of Andrew Holm himself. It was to be filled with his pet tech ideas, all implemented in a self contained sea-borne beta-test.

Olivia had done her homework. She had first heard of the boat from a short video about it and Andrew Holm. She had heard of his technocratic version of the future before. All bio-hacking, block chain and AI. All things to move human life away from human things. Basically claiming humans are what’s wrong with being human.

To each their own is Olivia’s typical attitude, but Andrew Holm just rubs her the wrong way. So he becomes a mark.

So, what to do, what to take from him to enrich herself and the people who help her pull it off? 

Well that aforementioned video was also the solution for that little quandary as well, deep in the hull of the ship there is a server room. Filled with also aforementioned blinking lights. Andrew Holmes plans to move the ship either into international waters or to some sympathetic country, he wasn’t clear in the video and probably hadn’t thought it through. That room stored and processed the transactions of his personal cryptocurrency – AH! coin. (You say it like you’re startled.) He’s invested heavily into it, pays out bonuses in it, allows people to pay for the various services of his many companies with it.

However, that was all largely incidental and deeply tedious to Olivia. What was really interesting was the other thing he stored in that room. 

A Fabergé Egg, the most unoriginal rich person thing in the world, and he had convinced an old money Italian man who calls himself a count (Italy declared itself a republic in 1946) to part with in exchange for a large undisclosed amount of AH! coin. Which was also why it was stored in the server room on his boat. As some declaration about the possibilities of his entirely made up monopoly money.

The Egg was real though, and absolutely stunning. Crafted in 1902 under the supervision of Peter Carl Fabergé, the egg’s body was around 6 inches tall, and stood on three delicate gold legs each with a baroque style leaf pattern. It was cross hatched with gold bands that were inlaid with an alternating pattern of large rubies and smaller diamonds and topazes. The enamel underneath was an imperial purple, the depth of the work seemed to multiply the light it reflects, glowing in its own right. It opened in the middle, revealing a classic Fabergé egg surprise (these were meant as easter eggs after all) a golden swan. Sapphire eyes, and open wings raised high, it was placed on a crystal pond the bottom of which was speckled with round emeralds.

That ridiculous trinket of an authoritarian monarchy was firmly burned into Olivia’s mind as she popped a mini-quiche into her mouth. She washed it down with some champagne and surveyed her surroundings.

The party was starting to get into full swing. The boat had left dock and was making its way out into Elliott Bay, the body of saltwater that gave the party goers a full view of the Seattle skyline at night. Each building patchily lit up, and the ferris wheel’s lights twisting like a multicolored peppermint candy. The guests were mingling, chatting, laughing, probably networking while foreign pop music saturated the background.

The lights on the party deck dimmed a little, while the lights on the overlooking level brightened. Into the harsh LED light, pale faced smeared by his self satisfied grin, and wearing just THE stupidest leather jacket, stepped Andrew Holm. 

After the light perfunctory round of applause ebbed he went on to his speech arms outstretched.

“I’m on a boat bitch! Yeah!” 

Olivia winced, grabbed a champagne flute, and drank a mouthful, while the crowd let out a smattering of chuckles.

“Welcome to my freedom ship, a ship like no other in the world. This will be the future, a platform for innovation and future thinking, and you are all here to see first hand. This is the first step in moving beyond the chains and limitations put in the way of commerce and the greatest thing humans ever made, Capitalism! Woo!”

Holding the woo for much longer than helpful he whipped his arms around, and then started pumping his fists in the air. Olivia took another drink. The crowd eventually realizing what he wanted, joined in his woo.

“Yeah! That’s right! So, my communications leads will be doing tours in about five or whatever minutes, so yeah, check it out guys!” Andrew Holm started clapping for himself. Once the crowd joined in he walked out the unflattering glow of his modern spotlight.

Putting down the rest of her champagne, Olivia thought the tour sounded absolutely perfect. Olivia’s friend Izz, who had also helped get the invite for the fictional Bunny Lewison, had obtained a copy of the schematics for the Muad’dib II. Olivia had been able to study them and learn the layout beforehand, but still it would be nice to be shown around. Very kind of them.

She, after waiting the five or whatever minutes, meandered her way to the small group that had gathered by a smiling young woman with a lanyard.

The young woman, beyond the lanyard, was sharply dressed with a face to match. Self aware business casual, tight gray blazer over a black turtleneck tucked into her high waisted ivory white pants. Olivia was jealous of her shoes. They were just as white as her pants, and looked thick and supportive. Must have felt like walking on clouds. In-spite of that, her anxiety was evident. Fidgeting with her wrist and almost vibrating.

The young woman checked her smartwatch and clapped her hands.

“Hello everyone, I’m communication liaison Rebecca, and I’m here to give you all a tour of Muad’dib II, the freedom ship of the future. Please, don’t take any photographs, all images of the Muab’dib II are the exclusive intellectual property of AH! Holdings Group. Alright, with house keeping out of the way, follow me up these stairs to the first stop on our tour, the bridge.” 

She turned around and motioned for the small group to follow her. 

They made their collective way, up two levels and towards the front of the boat. The other members of the group continued to chat away with one another. A murmur of gawking, joking, and drinking. More than one person wondered aloud if their drinks would last the whole tour, and if such a drought were to occur if they could restock.

Rebecca opened the door to the bridge and waved the group to enter ahead of her. As Olivia passed her she gave Rebecca a short, warm smile that was returned in kind.

The interior of the bridge was dark, populated by thousands of tiny flickering points of light, white, red, yellow, turquoise, and orange. Lit up buttons and dials, reflected by the semi-circle of windows providing a panoramic view of the moon lit Puget Sound and its sparsely lit western shore. A few screens gave off their own pools of dim light, radar, gps, sonar. Stations for a crew that wasn’t there, except for a lone sentinel at the very center.

“Let me introduce to you all the captain of the Muab’dib II, Captain Johan Merian” Rebecca chirped out, clapping her hands again.

Captain Johan Merian, facing the helm moving on its own, turned only his head over to the tour group. He was tall, slim, and solid. A strong chin covered by a thick short salt and pepper beard. Thick eyebrows of the same color emphasizing the serious and deep nature of his eyes. His natural looks coupled with his uniform made this man look like he was born out of the sea, washed up with the tide on a bed of sea-foam. In that moment, he also looked frustrated and annoyed.

“Hello” Captain Merian grunted, his accent making his profound dutch-ness evident. 

Rebecca waited a moment, clearly expecting him to say more. When he turned back to face forward she gave up and continued on her own.

“The bridge is the absolute state of the art when it comes to AI innovation. All of the information processed here is over-seen, analyzed and acted upon by a proprietary AI program we’ve named Skipper.”

Olivia saw that Captain Merian, who was clearly trying not to listen, winced when Rebecca said Skipper.

Rebecca hadn’t noticed.

“Skipper allows all functions to be automated, from piloting the ship, to flushing the toilets. We have been able to bring the total crew down to only one person. Our stalwart captain. This is the power of AI, we can end our dependence on the human element.”

The small tour politely hummed interest and approval.

Rebecca clapped her hands again, it must have been a nervous tick or something “Now, let us move on to the rest of the tour. Thank you Captain Merian”

She nodded towards the captain and he nodded back, keeping his mouth shut. Olivia didn’t think anything could have pried open his clenched jaw. 

The group trickled out of the bridge and worked their way through the next few stops of the tour.

First was the galley. A fully outfitted, forward thinking, smart kitchen. It had a few stainless steel, slightly mundane, appliances, each with a large touch screen display that replaced any dials or buttons that would have allowed one to simply use the tool. A refrigerator that required you to use a voice command to open the drawer or compartment you wished to access. The coffee machine could provide all kinds of programmed combinations of coffee, milk, and syrups, but would only do so if it could access your local wi-fi network. 

The cabins were similarly appointed, with enough bells and whistles to make the act of sleeping an ordeal. Voice activated drawers, lights, and windows. Each responding eventually to Rebecca’s command. But the true star was the bed in each room. Queen size, dark gray comforter and off-white sheets to match the Maud’dib II’s overall aesthetic, but it did look comfy. Maybe it was because it was late, or maybe it was Olivia had a deep torrent of stress pulsing through her all day, but she wanted to crawl into that boring overstuffed bed and go immediately to sleep. That was until Rebecca got into more detail about what the bed was capable of. It used sensors embedded into it, infrared cameras installed into the walls, and one regular camera directly above the bed, to feed various life-sign data, temperature changes, and movement patterns, to an “isolated” segment of the Skipper AI to then give the guest a report on their quality of sleep. Including where they could improve next time. That killed instantaneously any desire Olivia had of being in that room for a moment longer.

A desire that was quickly accommodated by Rebecca as she urged the tour on to their final destination, the server room at the center of the ship.

They made it past the great fuel-cell powered engines, and entered through a secure-able bulkhead door. Made of steel and with a large wheel as its handle to twist it open or closed, it was the most practical looking thing on the whole ship.

Within was a long somewhat narrow feeling room. On either side were banks of servers going from floor to ceiling. Great gun metal gray cages, with deep blue LED generated light seeping from between the cracks. They were separated from the five or so foot wide path by a thin knee high guard rail that guided the eye towards the far end of the room, where stood on a metal plinth, bathed in the beam of its very own spotlight was the Faberge Egg.

Glorious to behold, Olivia started to move towards it, like a moth drawn to a lighthouse, before she stopped herself.

Rebecca, clapping her hands together, began her spiel on the server room. Olivia made a point of looking at Rebecca and only at Rebecca, lest she get drawn in again.

“This you see before you is the beating heart of our freedom ship of the future. The brain through which not only the functions of the ship are controlled, but the mission of Andrew Holm is being made possible. The deregulation of financial markets, the facilitation of positive international relations, and the moving forward of the human species itself, is at least in part being made possible by these servers. Which, by the way, were designed by Andrew Holm himself, as the fastest, safest, most efficient servers the world has ever seen.”

The crowd nodded and muttered amongst themselves, while Rebecca started to inch her way backwards allowing her to move on to her next speech about the thing only Olivia wanted to hear about. The Egg.

“This wondrous work of art is a Fabergé Egg, as you probably could have guessed. Its kept here as a reminder of the power AH! coin and other crypto-currencies can have. This beautiful piece was obtained from the Count Antonioni Pollastro di Parma of Italy in an exchange purely done through AH! coin.”

The tour group let themselves fall into the same rapture that Olivia had been in a moment before. Clamping herself down in her soul, she saw the opportunity and seized it. 

The sparkle of the appropriately lit Egg was a dazzling smoke screen and Olivia hopped over the railing. She shuffled behind the server rack, wedging herself in the tiny space available. She had situated herself there by the time Rebecca had named the legally dubious count. 

Waiting until others were herded through the bulkhead door, Olivia abandoned her heels and hopped back over the railing. She grabbed her flats out of her bag, which made the fact she could finally get a good gawk in at the Egg all the sweeter. She gingerly walked towards it, drinking it in.

Olivia was all alone with the treasure she had been coveting for these past few months. All of the work she and her friends had put into this moment. For Olivia Lapin to stand in front of this gaudy manifestation of wealth being stolen and passed around, converted and passed around again. Ultimately, the Egg itself was metal and minerals, pulled out of the ground by workers, melted, and shaped and chipped into appealing forms by craftsmen, all to please a series of people at the very top of whatever society it happened to be in.

The Egg was sitting there, uncovered, exposed, and Olivia could have sworn it was just excited as she was. Like, it was about to ask; Where am I off to now?

Olivia reached out a hand, grabbed the Egg, tried to pull it free, but it wouldn’t budge. 

The Egg’s small feet were secured by small steel flanges, held to the plinth by big headed screws.

She had hoped it would just pop off easy, but still she had come prepared. She put her hand into her purse, looking for the minuscule hand drill she had brought with her. Or that she had thought she brought with her.

It was gone, or upon reflection it was never there. It was sitting on her kitchen table, in her apartment. Miles away from her now in the SODO district of Seattle.

Olivia let out a frustrated grunt, and thought hard. 

She could just leave it? No.

She could break its legs, like one or two? No.

She could just steal the whole plinth? No.

She just needed to get the flanges off. 

They were held on by flat head screws, with oddly broad slots. Olivia dug through her purse and pulled out her Orca card. Groaned, and broke it half. Long ways, twice, leaving her with a long thin piece of plastic. 

She put her new tool into the first screw head, and turned gently. It wouldn’t go, so she turned it harder and harder until she was convinced it would snap, when the screw finally relented and started to creak out. 

She carefully undid the first and second set of screws, until the flanges popped off and she was able to wiggle the Egg free.

Olivia held the Egg for only a moment before she placed it gingerly into her sparkling gold purse. 

She was beaming, her hand staying deep in her purse. Taking the time to relish the feeling of cold precious metal on the pads of her fingers, and contours of the fitted stones in their sockets. It was hers now.

“Hello, what’s a cutie like you doing down here?” 

Olivia turned around. She was sure, this was it, she was well and truly fucked. Prison, handcuffs, fingerprinting, supervised release, criminal record, everything gone. Never being free, ever again. 

It was Andrew Holm stepping through the bulkhead door, with an overly toothy grin on his face. It could have come across as sinister, but it was more like he had been taught how to smile but never really had a knack for it. His leather jacket looked expensive closer up but that didn’t make it fit him any better. His pale skin looked drained of all blood in the blue light of the servers.

Andrew stepped closer to her. 

“Come down here to spy on me? Take pictures for whatever website, government, lawyer, you work for?” Andrew asked. His voice was deeper than before, and it sounded like he was doing it on purpose. Was he trying to sound more intimidating, rugged, manly?

“Oh no, no, no, nothing like that. I’m just a fan, Mr. Holm, I just wanted to explore a little after the tour.” Olivia said, making sure that was standing between Andrew and the very empty plinth behind her.

His eyes narrowed, and he tried to coolly slide his hands into his designer jean pockets. The pants were clearly too tight on him for this, and he could only squish his fingers in. “A fan huh? Come down to admire the nerve center of my ship? I designed all of it, you know.” The more people kept saying that, the less Olivia believed it “Yeah, from the ground up. Its the future, and I’m the only one who sees it”

Andrew slid closer to Olivia. When he was arms length away, he pulled his hand (fingers) out of his pocket, started reaching it out towards her and said, 

“You know I could show you some of my secret places on the shi…”

He stopped mid-sentence when his eyes finally made contact with the empty space behind Olivia.

Olivia’s hand, still in the purse, had long since moved from the Egg to her taser. Right around the moment Andrew had called her “cutie”.

As she ripped it out, she smashed her thumb on the switch to activate it, and jammed the taser towards Andrew as it crackled loudly. He had just enough presence of mind to slap it away, but the momentum carried it and Olivia’s hand slamming into a server rack.

The arch of blue lightning made contact with the gray metal. With a sizzle, pop and a wave of static they were left in darkness.

Andrew’s hand appeared from the darkness and gripped Olivia’s left arm tightly. She spun, used her right elbow to crack him in the face. His grip disappeared and he fell back into the darkness. Judging where he must have fallen, Olivia gave him a good dose of the taser to the belly.

She then took a moment to stand alone in the darkness, swear and try to figure out what to do now. This wasn’t the plan. Get on the boat, get down to the server room, snag the egg, if the alarm goes off, jump overboard in the confusion and swim to shore (she trained for that), if it doesn’t go off, just leave when the boat docks again. That was a good plan, had structure and left room for improvisation. Maybe a lot of room, but that’s how Olivia liked to plan.

Nope, she’s standing over one of the richest men on earth. A man whom she clocked in the face and perhaps unnecessarily tased. That…wasn’t the worst outcome ever, maybe, but was not part of the plan.

Olivia shoved the taser back in her purse, took out her phone, and turned on the flashlight. She checked Andrew. He was out. Alive, and his nose wasn’t even bleeding, but would definitely hurt when he woke up. He was a pasty heap on the ground, breathing, and could have looked like he was taking a nap if his nose wasn’t bright red and starting to swell. Good, how about the rest of the room?

The servers were all dark, and the lights were still out. Why hadn’t emergency lights or something kicked in?

She was blinded by a light that beamed from outside the door. 

“What the hell is going on down here?” A deep dutch accented voice bellowed.

The light marched through the door with heavy boot stomps, once it reached Olivia it turned down to face Andrew Holm on the ground. 

“Aw, this ahsshule” the voice growled.

Olivia’s eyes adjusted and she could see Captain Merian’s serious face looking down. She reached down into her purse again and grabbed her taser.

He looked up at Olivia, turned his eyes and the light (which was produced by his power flashlight) towards Egg’s empty place behind her and then looked back at her.

He paused for a moment and just as Olivia was pulling the taser out of her purse, he finally said.

“Good, fuck him, I hate this fucking job. You got a plan?”

She was gobsmacked, but rallied, not wanting to look a gift dutchman in the mouth.

“I did, was gonna jump and swim to shore.”

“Really?!” he replied, laughing a little.

“Yeah, what!? I trained, and it’s not that far. Don’t fucking laugh at me.” Olivia said, really not appreciating feeling mocked.

“Sorry, I’m just impressed but you won’t have to swim now. The ships lost all control, and we were mid turn when it happened. We’re headed straight towards the waterfront.”

“Shit, that doesn’t sound better” 

It sounded loud in fact. The waterfront in Seattle is a series of piers jutting out into Puget Sound, originally used for warehouses, fishing wharfs, and other such things, but now are jam packed with gift shops, colorful attractions and mediocre restaurants. An area which at this time of night would be well light and jam packed with tourists.

Olivia thought of something “Wait, what about an emergency switch thing, like if the computer failed?” 

Captain Merian was bending over Andrew Holm and picking him up by the shoulders.

“You think this asshole wanted to admit his big boy brain might be wrong, that something he made might fail? No. It was all tied to that fucking Skipper, and its dead now. No controls, no lights, no toilet flushing. Now come on, we must get him out of here. If the boat sinks, I don’t wanna see any tearful tributes to this guy.”

Olivia grabbed Andrew’s ankles and helped the captain lift the tech CEO. As they shuffled out of the room Olivia started to wonder something.

“Hey, Johan, why did you take this job?”

Captain Merian was thrown for a moment from the use of his first name, but rolled with it considering the scenario. 

“It was a lot of money, and then he had me on contract, so…there you go.” He shrugged and then asked his own question. “Who are you? What’s your name?”

“Nope.” Olivia replied curtly.

“Fair enough.” Captain Merian said back, figuring it had been a long shot anyway.

They made their way through the dark passages, past the dead engines, and up to the panic stricken deck. They in unison dropped Andrew Holm’s limp body, and it landed with an undignified thud on the red wood. 

Captain Merian, put out his hand and wished Olivia good luck.

She shook his hand, and wished him luck as well as he ran off to join Rebecca in trying to calm down the party goers. When Captain Merian made it to her side, he leaned over and said something into her ear. Rebecca then looked over at Andrew and Olivia. She laughed loud enough that Olivia could hear it over the panicked screaming of the drunk crowd.

Olivia ran to the front of the ship and regretted it. They were only a few hundred feet from Pier 56. Olivia could see people running out of a Seattle themed T-shirt and realized she should be doing the same. She started to run back to the rear. There was a deafening crash, and the ship threw Olivia in a large arch, up and then down hard onto the deck. The metal and fiberglass of the front of the Muad’Dib II was fighting tooth and nail with the creosote soaked wood of the pier and losing. Finally, when all of its energy was spent the Maud’Dib II was left wedged in place, mortally wounded, with cold water rushing into its bow.

Olivia coughed and pulled herself up, not really hurt, but still – ow. She looked towards the rear. Captain Merian and Rebecca seemed to have a handle on things, the crowd’s panic having been transformed into calm confusion. Olivia looked over the railing of the ship. Thought it could be worse, and jumped.

She landed, this time more gracefully, on a mostly undamaged portion of the pier to the right of the ship. She found a service door, ran down the fluorescent lit hallways until she found another way out. She was able to inconspicuously join the gathering throng of tourists, phones held high above their heads, taking pictures and video of the beached corpse of the Maud’Dib II.

Olivia reached into her purse, felt the shape of the still intact Egg, pulled out her own phone and made a call.

“Hey, Izz, come get me. I’m at the waterfront…I lost my Orca card…yup, I’ll show it to you when you come get me.” Olivia smiled as she hung up the phone.

At least I assume Olivia smiled at the end.

She was smiling the whole time she was telling me this story.