The year was 2369. It was the Saturday races. Most of the Metropolisers of Helsinki – with an acquired taste for gambling – had gathered to see the show go down. There was a sense of thrill and anticipation in the air. We were right above old Vallila, at the Helsinki sports complex, waiting for the Mewgles to start their run. The complex consisted of not one or two but a total of four stadiums for different betting sports; Mewgle racing, self-driving horses and Pesäpallo. I stared down at my watch and betting slip, with a clenched fist and knuckles white from excitement.
The announcer was a hologram of a man projected from a series of floating discs that hovered around the arena. In my humble opinion, he was pretty tacky and very over dressed for the occasion.
‘Weeeeeelcome errbody!’ the announcer exclaimed. It’s another Saturday and you know what that means. Damn straight! A day at the races. Next up, is the Mewgle Racing Grand Finale. Be sure to place your final bets and grab some refreshments, because we’ll be commencing in five minutes.’
Amidst the flight of refreshment bots that never tired at serving snacks and drinks to the more indulged, I heard joyful cheers, refreshment bots advertising their menus and even young children crying out for their mothers. There was a positive vibe and a hustle and bustle in the crowd that was anticipating the race.
I had put a lot of money on this time, which wasn’t very much like me but I had heard from a reliable source at the stables that Apache was a rising star. He should do well that night. ‘If he makes it to the top three, I’m good. If he doesn’t, I’m fucked.’ I thought to myself. Maybe it wasn’t my best move, but at that point it was already in the lap of the Gods.
As I called out for a refreshment bot to get a beer and a refill for my vaporizer the race was already about to start. I quickly transferred some credits to the bot and gave it a slap. It wasn’t often that I felt this confident about my bet, but man I loved gambling.
The Mewgles rolled into their spots at the starting line behind the fence and extended their necks towards their coaches’ open hands.
‘Let’s get ready to roll some heads!’ Said the announcer, exciting the crowd.
The coaches grabbed the scruff of their Mewgles’ necks with one hand, and raised their weapon of choice in the other. Some used conventional hunting knives, some machetes or Japanese cooking knives or even state of the art laser knives.
The starting sequence began and the lights illuminated one by one: Red, Red, Red, Red, Red and go. The fence was sucked in by the ground, disappearing in the blink of an eye, followed by an almost simultaneous sweep of the hand by the coaches as they sliced the jelly-like necks of the Mewgle, setting them off onto a solid roll forwards towards the finish line.
The crowd was cheering for their favourites and I joined in on the fun. ‘Come on Apache!’
Apache instantly took the lead and I couldn’t believe my eyes. First I grabbed my hair in disbelief and then threw them towards the sky with great glee, screaming out curses and blessings to the great man in the sky. My eyes were fixed on the race track, but I couldn’t resist seeing the reactions of the people nearest to me, even if only from the corner of my eye.
I heard people rooting for Bullet, Pixel, Snowfall, Dark Shadow, Platinum and Jingo. This elicited a bravado in me that I couldn’t hide. ‘Let’s do this Apache! Here we fucking go!’ I screamed from the top of my lungs, while grinning to the not so fortunate supporters around me.
Alas, the joy was stripped away as quickly as it had come. Apache stepped on a loose stone, falling on its ass that in turn created a domino effect. One by one, the Mewgles tumbled and piled up. My eyes opened wide and my jaw fell to the floor, once again in disbelief. “NOOOooo!” I cried like a small child being stripped from their candy.
‘What have we got here? The Mewgles appear to have taken a tumble. Boy oh boy, what a race!’ Said the
announcer.
The race track had become completely covered in dust, hiding the Mewgles and making it impossible to make out what was going on. The entire stadium had fallen silent. ‘Come on Apache you sonovabitch!’ I murmured under my breath.
As the dust slowly started to settle, I could see the shapes of some Mewgles running the wrong way and others hitting the sides. To everyone’s surprise, a single Mewgle came out of the dust cloud untouched, and like a spontaneous combustion, the crowd burst into a massive roar of both joy and despair. It was Jingo. The slowest and the fattest of all the Mewgli, had taken the lead. It had been so slow that it managed to avoid the crash with the rest.
I realised that I had been standing up for the entire duration of the race, unconsciously, and now hunched down in utter disappointment. Jingo crossed the finish line first, then Bullet and finally Platinum. The rest did not finish at all. I was grabbing my hair in disbelief, mouth hanging open, while everyone around me was standing up, jumping and cheering. They were either celebrating a jackpot or joining the others with comradery.
‘What a turn around! JINGO, astonishingly finished first! Make sure you collect your winnings at any of the cashiers next to the exit. I’m sure there’s a few out there who have managed to bag themselves a jackpot! Next up is the chimpanzee ski jump and the self-driving horses to follow!’ Said the announcer, moving on from the incident as if the most surprising race of the year hadn’t affected him at all.
While people were making their way out of the stadium, I stood there frozen still in my seat leaning my face onto the palms of my hands. As the stadium emptied, two big men of Japanese origin appeared behind me. They were freakishly built with an endomorph muscular structure, tattoos, scarring, bionic limbs and the works. Hacked toxoplasma infused vagal nerve stimulators were visible on their necks, but usually the collar of their shirts would hide them. The stimulators were set so that they couldn’t feel or fear anything and I had the misfortune to know these guys too well.
They were identical twins, in their 30s, called Haru and Taito. Haru was only a few minutes older than his younger brother and they were pretty much the same, both inside and out. Together they worked for Riku, a pretty big player in the Helsinki underworld, as his most trusted pair of cold-blooded enforcers. The establishment we were in, and the gambling in it, was a major part of his criminal empire.
Haru’s right eye and a part of his face on his left side was bionic, covering the back of the jaw, the ear and the cheekbone. Taito had a prosthetically enforced neck and his right eye was leaky. More often than not there would be a bloody stream of tears running down from it. This was most probably due to the fact that he couldn’t feel pain but his brain would still send signals to react to it. I had never seen their arms or legs, but I’ve heard that Haru’s right leg was prosthetic from the knee down and both of Taito’s arms and legs were all prosthetic. These physical alterations were the only way I could tell them apart, whereas for an untrained eye, it would be impossible.
They both wore their black hair just long enough to be tied into a topknot and always wore suits. All the visible prosthetics were well kept and would send a flare in the sun. I was a pretty tall, yet lanky, man myself but Haru and Taito would easily tower over me. Had the sun shined from the opposite direction, they would have cast a long shadow over me. As I couldn’t see them coming from behind me, I could still hear the subtle wheezing Taito’s noise would always make.
‘The boss wants to see you,’ said Haru. ‘He wants his money,’
finished Taito.
They both had a stereotypically raspy low voice, just like the villains in Japanese animations from the old days, and their intonation was monotonous and indifferent.
I know I said I’d be in deep shit if Apache lost, but rest assured, I was always one step ahead.
I was born some 30-odd years ago. But that’s pretty much all I can say about my past. I never knew no mother or father, not any biological ones at least. It was just me, the other orphans and the carebots, the lost souls of Old Town. We would do some simple cleaning and repair tasks, such as collecting trash for peanuts. Most of the money went into food.
I’ve been beaten, abused and led astray too many times. I’ve had to steal, cheat and lie my way through life. And believe me, I’m damn good at it. I’ve roamed across all three city levels my entire life. I know people and they know me. I’ve learned to talk my way through anything. And of course there was this natural aura of charm about me I couldn’t help. And now? Well... Let’s just say I was a consultant of all things Helsinki.
At the top of Helsinki, on level three or Cloud 9, where the richest lay their heads, I sold my services as a life coach. It was very simple really, just teaching gullible people to be better at life... I even wrote a best selling book about it “One Step Ahead” - be sure to check it out! Unfortunately these self-righteous bastards weren’t as susceptible to that kind of shit as they once were. All thanks to the vagal nerve stimulators that constantly regulated their mood for the better. However, it also turned some of them into complete airheads and for the moment that was my niche.
The infrastructure on Cloud 9 was as high-tech as it could possibly be. It was built high up due to rising water levels and to capitalise on the unused area the city had vertically. It was like something from the Jetsons, tall cylindrical towers called ‘Ivory Towers’ with disc-like circular smart homes along the way to the top.
Each apartment was more or less a mansion. They had perfect 360 degree views of the city, and way beyond as far as the eye could see, through these huge digitally enhanced windows. What they were, essentially, was transparent computer screens with interfaces and controls to manage the tint and amount of light they would let in, display weather, recent news and so on.
The facades of these buildings were partially covered with lush green foliage, plants and vegetation that were all maintained by complex hydration and regulation systems that adapted to the change of seasons and even the slightest differences in weather.
Beautiful bridge-like esplanades and walkways with parks and viewpoints were elevated to connect different apartment buildings to each other. They reminded me of the elaborate colonies ants would build underground, just scaled up and hoisted up high in the air.
The air was fresh and natural, like forest or mountain air, and all surfaces were pretty much spotless. It was nothing like the two lower levels of the city. Definitely because the other levels had much lower standards of living and for example, didn’t have this comprehensive and privately controlled system for cleaning. Everyone chipped in around here, and they could actually afford it. It was a real privilege just to visit, because to live there you had to be accepted by the community. Hence the names of endearment for people who live here: oligarchs, self-righteous bastards, pompous pricks or just simply, put assholes. Super shopping centres and various transport stations connect the highest level to the rest of the city, and are situated just at the base of Cloud 9. There were two space stations to Mars on the opposite ends of the city in both the east and west.
The Metropolis, or level two, was a packed megapolis inhabited by the middle class and those who were too corrupt for Cloud Nine. I consulted companies there, gave lectures and occasionally sold my knowledge of the streets to the bosses of the underworld. The inhabitants were often referred to as Metropolisers or more officially speaking just regular Helsinkians.
It was a melting pot of cultures with numerous languages mixed with native Finnish, but the common tongue was English. The hustle and bustle was on a level unlike anywhere else in the entire country. If you wanted to actually do anything in the city, besides the bare necessities, it would have to happen here. Even people from Cloud Nine would descend to take part in the best parties, eat at the finest restaurants and come see the best teams play at the arena and of course work. I personally loved the food culture, I could taste anything from around the world in one place. Even the most random stuff, like when was the last time you ate traditional food from Papua New Guinea? Helsinki was a brilliant test market for all sorts of products, because the culture here was to be open to any new things. Different amazing smells of cuisines from around the world were mixed with a rancid stench of waste and sewage that was neglected by the city council, basic downfalls of a massive city.
The infrastructure was pretty grand and futuristic, yet functional, with a lot of smart buildings and glass. Unfortunately no foliage, plants or vegetation adorned the facades of buildings but were instead planted inside large public spaces such as office buildings, shopping centres and stations for public transportation. There were some remnants of parks and woods that had been dug up and replanted to the second level as a means of conserving the natural elements of the old days.
The Metropolis was relatively new, built upon old Helsinki and it definitely looked the part. However, I never liked the fact that there were bright flashy lights and videos in the form of advertising, hoisted on almost every surface one could possibly imagine. The advertising would extend itself from visual to not only auditory but olfactory imagery as well. I once held onto a knob to open a door and suddenly I heard a jingle play in my head and I swear I could smell freshly baked pizza. Disturbing.
The sky was filled with driverless vehicles, both private and public, and other electric vehicles such as bikes and scooters going about their day on smart roads. Carefully integrated into the infrastructure were hyperloops and hypersonic aircraft stations depending on the destination and distance travelled. How it worked was that, within this level were many smaller levels inclusively for different means of transportation. One for the public and another for private transportation, one for freight and logistics and another for pedestrians and
light vehicles.
Under all of the grandeur of Cloud Nine and the hustle and bustle of Metropolis was my home, the lowest level of Helsinki. The Old Town. As the rising water levels had forced cities worldwide to build vertically, nature was running its course, slowly making the lowest level uninhabitable. The Old Town was a bit like a sewer or an urban swamp with unpleasant smells, at least to outsiders, and lack of proper infrastructure. Old Helsinki landmarks, some more ruined than others, were taken over by squatters. The massive constructions above Old Town didn’t let much natural light through making the area generally poorly lit. Unfortunately the city council didn’t channel funds to properly maintain it, except for the upkeep of huge towering foundations for the levels above and the carebot-program launched some decades earlier.
A decent physical condition was a crucial asset for survival, because many places had become almost inaccessible due to the decay of the area. Locals were nimble to climb over obstacles and jump between platforms. I remember as a child, getting up to mischief in Metropolis, and being able to safely outrun many adults delivering my score back home.
In Old Town, everyday was a struggle. The alleys were filled with the smell of burning barrels to generate both heat and lighting, whereas the streets were more often than not a showcase for prostitution, drugs and other vices. Besides the aforementioned and criminal activities in general, there wasn’t much to do to get by. Street food, music and corner shops were abundant. Since all information was indexed a long time ago it was easy to educate yourself. However, some people had recently made it their mission to organize themselves and educate the underprivileged for small favours or fees, whatever one could afford.
Regardless of your ethnicity or background, the language mostly spoken was Finnish. You were better off learning the language than stubbornly sticking to your own. Perhaps it was out of solidarity to the community or a useful “secret” language not many could understand in Metropolis, let alone the Ivory Tower. However, the majority of people in Old Town were still of Finnish ancestry.
This place was my last chance at redemption, to be a better man. It had always been my home, and I would try to fight the good fight there.
I looked up at Riku’s dogs, thinking of something witty to say whilst recovering from the fatal financial blow I had just taken. ‘You’ll hear no excuses from me. I know better than to start something with you, am I right?’ I said with a bitter tone as I yielded. These toxoplasma-infused, vagal-stimulated big-boys were not to be messed with and the realisation of losing the bet had finally become all too real.
‘This way,’ said Haru bluntly.
I got up from my seat and followed Haru. Taito waited until I passed him and joined us as we walked single-file through the stadium complex hallways. The perpetual row of trophies, these tokens of success, on the walls that decorated the corridors of the stadium were an interlude to my doom. However, on the outside I had to be totally calm and cool. Eventually, we exited the stadium through the main entrance and drew close to a black armoured car on the side of the road. The car was fitted with the latest model of driving A.I. ‘Nothing but the best for Kyro’, I thought with amusement.
‘My employer will have no issues with the payment, I’m sure. I’ll see to it myself,’ I stated with a confident and assuring voice.
‘Leave it to Riku-san,’ said Taito.
‘Get in,’ finished Haru in a stone cold manner.
‘Well, aren’t you guys a cute couple.’ I said in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere, but to no avail.
Had I won the bet, I would’ve kicked ass. But there was always a silver lining. Now I have to hustle my way out of this. I had to stay on top of my game and at least take some assholes down. Worst case scenario was that I went down hard. But I’d make sure they would go down with me.
We sat through the car ride in complete silence. With a few exceptions of me opening my mouth to spark a conversation only to realise there was no point to it. Taito and Haru were exceptional in how little silence would bother them. I would almost have to bite down on my knuckles to keep myself from overflowing with discourse, while I imagined they preferred nothingness.
The traffic lanes of Metropolis made the city seem unwelcoming and cold. There was a lack of sincerity to how organised and aligned the traffic system was. One could only truly experience urban places by foot with all it’s parks and remnants of nature from old times. I couldn’t have been happier to notice that the car took an exit away from the highway and back into the city. I didn’t know I could be this delighted by the sight of Riku’s headquarters.
We got out of the car like Huey, Dewey and Louie.
‘This way,’ said Haru.
‘Please,’ finished Taito
‘Please? To what do I owe the pleasure of this courtesy?’ I said with dramatically sarcastic undertones.
We pulled up to an impressive looking building. It stretched way up high towards Cloud Nine, as high as legislation allowed to maintain Metropolis status, and had an azure glow like a blue sky on a computer screen. Entering Riku’s offices was pretty straight forward. We approached the main entrance, Haru scanned his retina for access to the corporate lifts, a ‘how do you do?’ to the reception bot and we were already on our way up. As the elevator doors were closing I wished, for once, there was a radio somewhere in the elevator. Just to kill the silence...
A whole lot of new enterprises had risen in the past decades, thanks to changes in legislation. You could pretty much do any kind of business, as long as you had an agreement between at least two consenting adults - both in full mental capacity - and of course, pay your taxes. There were some obvious restrictions like pimping, human trafficking, assassinations etc. As long as you didn’t violate anyone else’s freedom, you were going to be just fine. Riku-san worked right at the edge of this moral framework.
The elevator doors finally opened and I saw Riku sitting behind a large Japanese antique cedar desk with his wife Lena talking to him by his side.
‘Kyro-san, you son of a bitch.’ His voice, smooth and low, anointed by his habitual whiskey drinking. Riku had a habit of calmly saying things that others would exclaim with excitement. I found this to be a very defining element in his character. Whilst looking Riku straight in his eyes with a wide smile across my face, I took confident steps towards him to shake hands across the large desk. It would take some stretching due to its sheer size. Our touching of skin elicited a reluctance that I couldn’t show, and I was sure it wasn’t just me. There was nothing sincere about what was about to happen. I waved politely at Lena and said hello.
‘How nice of you to visit Kyro,’ she said with such emptiness in her eyes, I didn’t quite know how to react, but brushed it off with a subtle bow.
Riku was a very short man in his 50s. He was covered in tattoos and had a severe Napoleon complex. He was a very disciplined person, perhaps the most disciplined I had ever seen. Worked out like hell, ate clean and never lost his nerve in front of you. However, you only got to his bad side once, because his revenge was that vicious and fatal at worst.
He owned the sports complex and controlled the majority of betting in Metropolis, his specialty being sports. He didn’t enjoy the nightlife which was an occupational hazard with casinos, so he consciously decided to stand back and not take part in it. There was less competition and territorial feuds this way.
Riku was conservative and Lena, his wife of 10 years, was a prime example of this. She was in her early 30s, and nothing like Riku. She was a tall and beautiful blonde, and I had observed this to be the case with nordic women in general. She was actually much taller than Riku. He was maybe a head shorter than her, and to his misfortune also quite unsightly. Lena also had a sense of humour while Riku struggled with sarcasm. And above all she had her wits about her. She used to handle important finances of their enterprise, while Riku was dumb as a door knob with a mind full of false bravado. Unfortunately, not too long ago, Riku eventually lost his shit with her and planted her with a stimulator. Dumbing her down into an overly positive, gullible and fully compliant mess with nothing else to give to the world than please his husband. This was all due to his lack of confidence, which in turn led him to oppress everyone and force them to be lesser than him. And they said the patriarchy was long dead…
He was conservative in other regards as well. He used less technology than the people generally did those days. For example, he didn’t wear an interface on his arm like most people did but instead he would rely on actively seeking out information himself or speaking to his peers. He always sent a person, himself or otherwise, to deliver his messages.
Looking around the room, and not for the first time, I was in awe. The office was grand. It was a prime example of a fine balance between state of the art technology and antique furniture. Much care was taken to maintain a level of traditional items not connected to the Global Government Network. I thought it was a waste of resources and very difficult to find items that weren’t interconnected to the Global Government Network. Somehow he managed to do that most of the time. There was a large single room with a mezzanine and as a cherry on top, the entire back wall was a one way window facing west to pay witness to sublime sunsets. These kinds of comforts came with long-term success. I wondered what his own apartment looked like. I had never been, and wouldn’t want to go beyond business with a man of his nature.
‘Riku-san, how are you big man?’ I tried to say this as if it was something I had accidentally blurted out. Calling him big or small really pushed his buttons. I knew I had to be wary of any backlash. ‘A simple invitation would have sufficed. The escort was quite an honour itself!’ I said with accompanying nods to both Taito and Haru’s direction while wearing a wide grin on my face.
‘Sit. Let’s have a drink,’ said Riku, calmly, whilst pointing to a free seat in front of me with an open hand.
Taito instantly moved behind the bar to fix us drinks while Riku and I took our seats. My presence was more relaxed, as I had my left leg hang over the armrest of the chair, whereas Riku sat with a straight back with both hands neatly on the table next to each other where they could be seen.
Riku began with the same contained tone, ‘I never took you for a man of high risks and high rewards, Kyro.’ I thought, but a second and replied, ‘Every man is like a coin. We are two sided, desirable, yet dirty,’ Riku loved analogies and that was how his people would converse. ‘One cannot argue with that,’ Said Riku in agreement.
You could tell Taito was approaching from the wheezing sound a breath through his nose would make. His monstrous body cast a shadow over me, forcing me to turn my gaze at him. He handed over my drink with a polite bow, as was the custom, and continued to serve his master. Taito had prepared a beautifully crafted Old-fashioned with orange bitters and orange peel with just one large ice cube that filled the entire glass, just as I liked it.
‘Taito, Old-fashioned, you know me too well.’ I said with sincere gratitude and finished off with a silly finger gun.
‘We all do. Which leads me to the elephant in the room. Kyro-san, when are you going to pay me?’ Riku had had enough of the pleasantries and quickly turned to the more pressing issues. He still maintained his signature form and contained manner.
I couldn’t resist taking a sip of the drink, my eyes on Taito still, as if ignoring Riku. And it was indeed perfect ‘You make one hell of an ancient classic, don’t you.’ I continued with a smack of my lips as an attempt to savour the flavour. From the corner of my eye I saw Riku smile. More often than not that meant quite the opposite than what one would assume. He wasn’t smiling at the current state of affairs, but the leverage he was accumulating.
‘I might just turn you into an ancient classic if you don’t get me my money.’
‘See, here’s the thing…’ As quickly as a humming bird flaps its wings, Riku reached over to grab my wrist and pulled it towards him across the table. I spilled my drink and landed flat on the table. My chair I had slid back a metre or two. When I finally reoriented myself I saw Taito standing with a japanese chef knife in his right hand, the edge of the blade gently leaning against the tip of his left index finger.
Riku spoke with a chilling tone, holding the side of my face with one hand and my wrist with another. ‘You know when one of my men does me wrong, they give me something of theirs.’ Haru appeared on the other side of the table and placed his left hand on top of it, right in front of my face. The pinky and ring fingers were stubs. This was the backlash.
Lena still stood quietly next to Riku with an empty gaze towards nothing, obliviously interrupting by saying ‘isn’t this nice?’ with a contempt sigh. Like a yogi finally reaching nirvana. I couldn’t help but think ‘Not now Lena, not now.’
I sat with Sheikh Sulayman at his headquarters in downtown Metropolis, in an old office building refurbished for more high end spaces.The exterior made it seem less conspicuous than it was on the inside. With its plain cream coloured concrete and its large square windows, that had a slight green tint, one could think it was an ordinary office space. Even from the inside it wasn’t quite as grand as Riku’s building, but definitely still a sought after space and location.
Sulayman’s headquarters were like a maze with its tiny corridors, rooms and many doors to different sections. It was filled with objects incongruous to both one another and their surroundings. The walls and table tops were filled with motley memorabilia. He seemed to be an immature and impulsive collector who didn’t need a specific target or subject area for his collection. Instead if something caught his eye, it’d be enough of a reason to add something to his collections. There were other-wordly animals that were both full or in parts, kept inside sealed jars. Pieces of clothing that belonged to various cultures around the expanded world. Some weapons were on display as well, ones looked ancient and others so devastating and vile I didn’t even want to imagine what they would do to a person. I saw decorative objects made out of different materials such as glass and porcelain. The most ridiculous ones were tiny white porcelain plump angels in many different poses. I wondered why a grown ass man like Sulayman would add this kind of invaluable trash to his pretty impressive collection of cultural artefacts. These kinds of details made me question his impulses in general.
The Sheikh was in his early 30s. The general opinion among his peers was that he was too young and inexperienced to be in such an important position of influence. Sulayman was made the head of operations as his father, on his deathbed, passed his legacy unto him. It was some sort of a final act of love from a dying father to his son, who had his entire life spoiled his son rotten.
He thought highly of himself, especially when it came to entrepreneurial skill and charisma. Sulayman’s sense of self was that of a rooster, a cocky little bastard who thought that he was much smoother than he really was. Also, he was very naive and would throw tantrums whenever he didn’t get what he wanted.
Anyone would agree that he was the perfect reflection of his taste in decorating an office. But instead of wearing historical artifacts, he wore African patterns from the old country and a whole bunch of technological gadgets. A normal interface on the forearm didn’t suffice, like it did for most people. In addition to the interface, he wore smart lenses on the surface of his eyes, rings that gathered data from his body, a vagal nerve stimulator and a whole bunch of other custom made paraphernalia around his wrists, ankles and neck that I didn’t even understand or know how they worked.
His frame was tall and skinny, yet with broad shoulders. His skin was a smooth brown, like a dark caffe latté. His curly black hair was cut sharply and he wore a small patch of black curly beard on his chin only. The aforementioned clothing combined with his frame made him look a bit like an upside down technological Christmas tree. This was his way of flaunting his prosperity.
The Sheikh was having some weird jelly-like food on a plate in front of him. It was something I thought a five year old would have for dinner if they were made responsible for their own nutrition. I was puffing on my vaporizer, feeling the burn of Nasteexo’s eyes on my neck. She was Sulayman’s most trusted soldier, one of the most lethal weapons in Helsinki, and Sulayman’s right hand. She was brutally mutilated by her fucked up father when she was a small child. Being heavily beaten, cut and left in the acid rain time and time again led to a severe trauma in her vocal chords, making her a mute assassin. Eventually Sulayman’s father heard of this happening within their community and saved her by taking her in, raising her as a sister to Sulayman. When she was old enough, he armed her and made her kill her own father to be rid of her past and be born again. As a killer.
She wasn’t easy on the eye, I must say.
‘… and the poor bastard thought he would get away with it! Can you imagine?’ Sulayman said while holding back his giggling, resisting to blurt out the ending to the story.
‘So what did you do with him?’ I deserved an Oscar for pretending to care.
‘I’m glad you asked! I let Nasteexo get freaky with him, of course!’
After a slight delay we both exploded in laughter. Sulayman in the loudest manner, while I forced mine convincingly. Even his laughter was immature with its high pitched giggle. Like an annoying animal you wanted to put out of their misery.
‘Oh my, oh my.’ Said Sulayman while catching his breath and holding his stomach.
‘Sheikh, you are a busy man. And I am here for a reason, so what can I do you for?’
Sulayman picked up a towel from his thigh and wiped his face clean before speaking
‘Mr.Jones, all work and no play! Straight to the point, I like it.’ He cleared his throat and continued. ‘I have some ambitious plans to expand my business ventures to Old Town.’
‘As you know Sheikh Sulayman, I am well connected down there.’
‘You’re from that shit hole, aren’t you?’
‘I wouldn’t necessarily call it a shit hole... The Old Town just has real character.’
‘Mr. Jones, no need to be ashamed of your past. My people have also come a very long way to have a solid foothold here in Helsinki. I’m sure you would love to see the sewers prosper once again, no?’ Sulayman said this with comical undertones and a grin on his face.
If life had taught me anything, it was that just like beauty, prosperity was also in the eye of the beholder.
‘What is it that I can help you with?’ I was growing impatient.
‘I assumed you’d be angry with me. Calling your home a shit hole. But you prove me wrong Mr.Jones, you are a businessman after all. Just like me. And that’s exactly why I like you Kyro.’ Sulayman wouldn’t wipe that annoying grin off his face, because he knew he could keep saying condescending shit like that without bearing any consequences due to his influence over me. I thought of him as a necessary evil and doubted that I would enjoy his proposition.
Sulayman then snapped his fingers, rather loudly I might add, and extended his open palm towards me. As the window blinds went down and the lights dimmed, a 3D hologram projection of the city popped up into the room from a circular projector placed on his palm, filling a significant amount of airspace between the two of us over his desk. It was a demolition and reconstruction sequence for a new harbour where Kauppatori now stands in Old Town.
‘My construction company is interested in investing in a piece of land, the Kauppatori harbour by the old presidential castle.’’ Sulayman said, perhaps for the first time that day, with a serious tone of voice as if he was an authority on the subject at hand.
‘Since the previous owner was, how should I put it, compromised. And the city didn’t want to claim it, it is now for sale.’ He continued.
‘Is there a “but”?’ I asked directly, because I knew there had to be collateral damage to something or someone.
‘Well, the only problem is the squatters.’ Sulayman replied, still maintaining the facade of professionalism.
‘What about the squatters?’ I asked as if completely ignorant of the circumstances, yet maintaining sincerity in my manner.
‘I plan to drive more business into Helsinki by the sea. But I need someone, like you Mr. Jones, to get rid of them before I put things into action and flatten the area.’ His reply made me boil and churn inside. It took a large amount of energy to keep myself from expressing how utterly detested I was.
‘What an interesting business venture! But, I suppose you already know that a big majority of these squatters are natives?’ I asked Sulayman, grabbing my knee in anger under the table.
‘Of course I do, but business is business, and we’re both business men am I right?.’ He replied with that signature stupid grin spread across his immature face.
‘I’m not sure the people of Helsinki would appreciate the eviction of the natives, when they find out.’
My act of minor social justice led to a rapid change in the atmosphere of the meeting. Sulayman leapt from his seat, disrupting the hologram screaming.
‘WELL THE PEOPLE OF HELSINKI SHOULD APPRECIATE THE SACRIFICES AND INVESTMENTS I’VE MADE AND WILL BE MAKING FOR THEM. ARE YOU SAYING THAT I DON’T CONTRIBUTE? THAT YOU DON’T SUPPORT MY NEW VENTURE?’
I waited patiently for his rant to be over and then, looking down on the empty desk I surrendered by saying ‘I’m saying that I will see what I can do.’ I wish I believed in a God, so I could believe in hell, and that he would someday burn in it.
‘Riku-san, you know I pay allegiance to no one, but the city. So there is no need to turn my fingers into jewellery.’ I said with my eyes closed, afraid to open them to face reality. Just as I was losing hope I came up with a brilliant idea. I paused for a brief moment, opened my eyes and continued with elevated confidence.
‘Also, I’m sure you know that Sheikh Sulayman is looking to invest in Kauppatori and is in dire need of financing. I was merely placing a bet on his behalf. You know what the Somalis think of gambling, don’t you? Someone else had to do it.’ I tried to see the reaction on Riku’s face, but the position I was in made it nearly physically impossible to do so.
Riku let out a slow laughter while firmly slapping me on my cheek. He finally let go and sat back down on his seat and said.
‘I really like you, Kyro!’ It seemed everybody liked me these days. I got up from the desk, rubbed my wrist and straightened up. I felt a bit embarrassed, but at least I had found a way out. And even Riku seemed to be on my side again.
‘Now that you’ve brought this matter into a whole new perspective, I believe I might be able to help you fix this.’ This was perfect. He had absolutely no reason to doubt me. I had just placed a piece of stinky cheese into a mouse trap.
‘I need you to deliver a message to Sulayman.’ Riku had something on his mind, but I wanted this to go down in my terms, so I had to interrupt him.
‘With all due respect Riku-san. I have a proposal.’
‘I’m listening.’ Luckily he didn’t seem offended.
‘To avoid a misunderstanding like the one we’ve just had, I suggest you meet with the Sheikh himself. I can arrange everything.’
Riku took a while to answer, with a pensive look on his face.
‘Hmmmm.’ A long humm was all that came out as he gazed diagonally towards the ceiling. Eventually he got up as a sign that the meeting had come to its end and spoke.
’Make the arrangement as soon as possible. This is a matter of principle.’
‘I will Riku-san.’
We both said goodbyes with subtle bows and I was gone, feeling lucky that I still had all ten fingers intact.
‘I looked into the squatters of Kauppatori and it turns out there is a conflict of interest between you and Riku-san.’ I lied so well, that for a second, I even convinced myself.
‘What?’
Crumbles of pie flew out of Sulayman’s mouth as he exclaimed his discontent.
‘Yes, I was just as surprised to hear it myself. I heard from a reliable source that he has plans to expand his gambling rings to the Old Town.’
Reliable source, my ass.
‘There is talk of illegal fights and some sort of deal with the Old Town law enforcement. I guess the squatters play a part as well.’
‘No. NO. NO!’
Sulayman slammed his fist onto the armrest of his chair, which seemed to be an intricately decorative ancient wooden throne. His other hand gripped a glass so hard that it broke and shattered onto the ground, leaving his palm bloody. As he was jumping up from his throne he wailed in a childish manner.
‘NASTEEXO, GATHER THE TROOPS!’
I tried to stop him from doing something stupid by shouting and waving my hands in front of him. ‘Wait, Sheikh! I have a proposal.’ I managed to get him to signal Nasteexo to wait for a moment before rushing into a full-on attack.
‘A proposal? Why am I not surprised? You’re always one step ahead, aren’t you?’
He seemed irritated, but totally manageable. If he only knew.
‘This can all be handled diplomatically, face to face with Riku-san. I am sure this would work in your favor, especially in the eyes of the city with regards to your business venture.’
I had enough confidence in my voice to get Sheikh to sit back down. Once I knew that Riku was on board, getting him to join was the easy part.
‘I can arrange everything and I am positive that Riku-san will be more than happy to discuss this with you. I know him personally. You can trust him.’
‘Trust him? If things go tits up your head is on the line.’
‘You have my word.’
‘See to it then, Kyro.’
‘As you wish.’
I bowed my head and left the room thinking ‘What a clown.’
I was sitting way up high inside a control booth of an old garbage disposal centre in the outskirts of the city. I was lucky to convince Riku and Sulayman to firstly come down to the lower level and secondly travel so far out from the centre. The industrial space was inconspicuous enough and I knew the squatters who inhabited this fine establishment. It actually turned out to be quite easy to strike a deal with them to temporarily vacate the area. It was sufficient to tell them what was at stake for the squatters in Kauppatori and they were more than happy to comply. ‘Well fuck that! Tell us when and where and the place is yours. Mi casa su casa brother,” one of the squatters would say to me.
From up there I had a clear and direct sight on Riku, Sulayman and all of their cronies. Little did they know that I was a fly on the wall. They had both come well prepared for a full scale gang war. The place was packed with people who were armed to their teeth. I couldn’t help but notice that Taito was nowhere to be found. Usually he and Haru are easy to spot, but now the mass of people and the sheer distance made it very difficult to fully make out who was who.
‘I am disappointed to find myself here today,’ Riku said with a genuinely disappointed tone. His eyes were fixed on the floor, his hands in front of him, fingers intertwined, while slowly shaking his head.
‘I understand. Our conflict of interest has brought us into a bit of a sticky situation, hasn’t it?’ Sulayman replied with such immature and ignorant pride, it seemed as if he didn’t realise the true weight of the situation.
‘Sticky. Interesting.’ Said Riku with a pensive expression on his face.
I wish I had popcorn to watch these idiots destroy each other.
“Well, what would you call it then?” Sulayman replied quickly in his typical childish humour.
While puffing on my vaporizer with utmost content, I basked in the delight that knowledge brought me. As soon as the Sheikh realised he wouldn’t get what he was after, things would escalate very quickly.
Riku changed his pose by moving his arms from the front of his body to the back. Perhaps this was an act of courtesy, showing Sulayman that he was coming in peace, by exposing himself a bit more. “I’m not very sure to be honest. A series of unfortunate events, maybe?”
“Or being in dire straits?” suggested Sulayman.
“In a pickle even.” added Riku.
“We’ve got quite the puzzle at our hands.” Sulayman’s tone had surprisingly become more light-hearted at this point. I had to pinch myself to see if this was really happening.
“Indeed, a real predicament.” Said Riku, hiding his exuberance.
Was this a battle of… idioms?
“A most perplexing quagmire.” giggled Sulayman with an added shake from his right index finger.
I sank into my seat and face palmed, deeply. A good five minutes later and I had nearly fallen asleep staring at the ‘battle of idioms’. Also all the accompanying gang members were leaning on one foot or sitting on the floor. I even saw some playing rock paper scissors to kill time.
Sulayman had ceased to hide his enthusiasm towards this childish game. “Seems like we need to break the back of a beast, doesn’t it?” It was as if he had forgotten what was at stake. Whereas Riku was reaching the very limits of his patience.
“Mmm… Yes... A real can of worms?” But he was a professional and could contain his emotions, so he took all the time he needed for a comeback.
“Have you come to your wit’s end?” Said Sulayman, fingers crossed, absolutely certain of his victory.
“Mmm... No, I think I’m onto something.” Riku’s tone took more of an assuring intonation instead of his usual: experienced-asian-profound-mentor.
“And what might that be? Spill it old man!” The Sheikh was waving his hands in front of him, impatiently, almost as if grabbing a ghost by its collar squeezing information.
Riku took an intense and calm breath and said “I think people in your situation are described as “indebted”.”
Now, I imagined Sulayman’s eyes firing up. Maybe even actual flames in his pupils that went together perfectly with his red flustered face.
“I DON’T OWE YOU ANYTHING!” The Sheikh’s infantile scream was a call to arms for all around. Both Sulayman’s and Riku’s cronies slapped themselves awake, quit their silly games and jumped to their feet ready for action. It was my turn to try and hide my excitement. Finally, action! Here we fucking go!
The atmosphere had escalated quickly. A moment earlier there was an inexplicable battle of idioms and gang members of opposite sides sharing jokes and getting to know each other like it was christmas eve during the great war, but now they were taking steps closer to each other, holding onto their weapon of choice, preparing to leap at any moment.
“You placed a bet and you lost. It’s time to pay.” Riku knew he had the moral upper hand, and he wasn’t going to hide it.
“What the hell are you talking about? You’re the one trying to move into my turf.” For once, due to his great bafflement, Sulayman could keep his behaviour at a more mature standard.
“What made you think that? I have no such intentions…” Riku assured Sulayman and held his hands out, pushing the air between the two.
Sulayman turned his head in disbelief and said “… But Kyro said that…”
I took a long and loud puff on my vaporizer that echoed in the brief silence of the industrial hall. And it was at that moment when I realised that I had utterly fucked up.
*HRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrr*
“What was that sound?” Said Riku, looking up and around, searching for the source of the peculiar noise.
Nasteexo leapt to the middle and pointed at Kyro high up in the booth
Riku and Sulayman both gasp out my name in unison “Kyro…”
“Shit!” I whispered before I went into full panic mode. I jumped up from my seat and tried to figure out how to get out in one piece. I knew there was no way I was speaking myself out of this one.
A laser blaster hit the inside of the booth a few inches away from me. “Fuck fucking dingaloo shit shit shit!”
The single blast was followed by a storm of lasers and various other ranged weapons. As I ducked down to cover, my vaporizer dropped from my hand and landed on a big red button. This initiated some sort of mechanical process and the industrial hall started to shake and rumble. The firing ceased very quickly after that.
I stood up slowly to see what was going on and soon realised it was the large-scale garbage compressor where the gangsters had stood to settle their score. Huge steel walls popped up in the blink of an eye, not giving anyone a chance to react, denying anyone an exit. Nasteexo tried to jump over it, to no avail, sliding down to the ground.
Amidst the noise the compressor and the panicked crowd of people I could see Sulayman shaking both his fists screaming “KYRO!” just in time before the compressor crunched every mobster.
It was a symphony of flesh and bone where skulls played percussion, guts played bass, all the squirting blood were the harmony and the shrieks of agony were the melody. It was all over very soon. There was nothing left but a red cube of what used to be around twenty people.
I felt sick and threw up on the floor of the booth. For some reason, still unkown to me, I told myself aloud “I need to get the fuck out of dodge, asap.”
As I had finally crawled out of the booth, down the steps and hurried outside the industrial hall I checked my arm UI for time. ‘Shit! I’m running late for my show!’
I ran to the nearest station and jumped into the next floater train. I had a moment to gather my breath and reflect on what had just happened. This time it got really close, closer than ever before. Had I gotten sloppy or was this purely due to the scales of the universe tipping against me? I looked around and saw people from the lower level. They gave me short looks of contempt. Probably due to my upper class attire and upgraded UI amongst other things. Little do they know what I just did for them, what I do everyday for them, but I don’t need a prize nor recognition. I do it for the only true love I’ve had, which was my city.
I eventually got home and cleaned up well. I practiced my slimy smile in front of the mirror while waiting for a taxi to the Ivory tower, where I have my weekly show. The entire journey to the venue was a haze. I was still shook up with the gory ending of that day’s “battle of idioms”. I had expected the fools to destroy each other, not get destroyed together, and definitely not in that manner.
I entered the private club from the back door. I greeted the janitor and slalomed between life-size cutouts of myself and posters with my face on it. I looked way better in those posters than I actually did. Whoever enhanced that image did a pretty decent job. My target audience was mainly dumbed down wives and children of politicians and business owners. There were families of some mobsters amongst them as well. They came to see me to feel better about themselves, and of course not disturb their husbands’ and fathers’ businesses whether it was actual business or just pleasure in disguise. Patriarchy is dead, my ass.
I entered my changing room and my producer was already there waiting. “Come on honey, you’re running late. We have a full house today!” I just grunted at him and sat down on the makeup chair, waiting for Ans to call someone to come make me pretty. Ans was a very officious producer, gender-fluid and in his late 20s. I had no idea if he was a flamboyant man or a masculine woman. I had no issues with it, it was just that they kept changing constantly. Nevertheless, he was great at what he did and kept me in line professionally.
After a quick fix on my mug and I was on my way to the stage. Behind the curtains, a few x-jumps and self-compliments later I was ready to head out. I cleared my throat and pulled a smile so deep from my ass I could sell these gullible idiots anything. My name was called out and I stepped out into the bright lights, welcomed by a shower of applause.
“This is one of the most simple, and straightforward programmes you will find. It is but one step of paramount importance: ‘One Step Ahead’”
The audience applauds enthusiastically.
“Alright, I feel you all. No, I really do. I won’t let myself forget the times when I was running around aimlessly like a bunch of headless Mewgles. No no, I’m not repeating my mistakes. Are you? “
“NO!” replied the crowd in unison.
“I can’t hear you!” I said with a quirky grin on my face.
“NO!”
“Good evening and welcome to each and everyone. In case you’re joining us for the first time; my name is Kyro Jones, and today I’m going to teach you how to be one step ahead. Always.”
© Yasir Al-Ani 2021