“Unnnngh,” I groaned, ice pack to my forehead.
Nanna plunked a dish of sausage casserole in front of me, and I had no choice. It was eat it or move out, and I had no where else to go.
At twenty-seven, I lived in my grandma’s basement because I was jobless and penniless, but that didn’t stop me from binging at Boots and Bang Bar with my best friend Rhoda every now and then.
Especially when I’d been fired from my nannying job by the mom from hell, Janelynn Morovic. Bong! went my pad as I scooped breakfast casserole into my mouth and chased it with hot coffee.
Rhoda. I clicked it open.
“Morning sunshine! You’ll never guess what I just found out!” my best friend sang through the screen.
“How are you so chipper?” I groaned.
“It’s called coffee! Meet me at the school playground in twenty minutes. This is one of those, ‘we can’t talk on screens’ convos.”
I rolled my eyes at her, “Mysterious, Rhoda.”
She grinned, and there was something feral in it that kept my attention.
“You really mean it, don’t you?”
“Oh, this is something you will not want to miss, Ayela Scarsdale,” she said knowingly.
I downed the last of my coffee. “Fine. See you at the swing sets in twenty minutes.”
I disconnected the call, rushed through a shower, and pulled my wet hair into a bun. Throwing on sneakers, I thanked Nanna for the breakfast and trotted to the park, hoping I wouldn’t see the twins there.
I didn’t know how to explain to three year olds that I was fired by their tyrant of a mother for caring about their birthdays.
When I got to the playground, the only person I saw was Rhoda on one of the swings, so I joined her, thankful for the laws that meant there were no cameras watching us.
Few places were free from surveillance, but child-rich areas like parks with playgrounds, schools, and all hospitals, and inside public buildings were off limits, just like everywhere else in the 9 Galaxies.
“What’s all the cloak and dagger about, Rhoda?” I asked skeptically.
She handed me a data pad, and I scanned the screen, not quite sure what I was looking at in the beginning, but a minute later, I understood.
“You’ve got a dossier on Janelynn? My old boss?”
“You know how you used to joke around all the time that she probably wasn’t in the mafia? And you also know how I’m always saying that you have an uncanny women’s intuition? That your dreams are so vivid they seem like there’s a ring of truth to them? Well, look at Janelynn’s title,” my best friend scoffed.
I’d noticed that already. “She’s the CEO of PlayTheCorp. Is that a video game thing?”
Rhoda rolled her eyes at me, “When are you gonna figure out what the rest of the world hinges on, Ayela? Everything is about gaming for everyone—“
“What do I care about little fake people running around shooting each other—"
She cut me off. “It’s not just that! Didn’t the twins ever play games? How did you keep two three-year-olds occupied so they didn’t bother their working mother upstairs?”
“Oh! Of course, they loved Mad Pheasants and Jelly Roll Theft! They’d be lost in those games for hours some days. Are you saying those little kid games are super popular?” I wondered.
Rhoda threw her head back and laughed. “You know nothing about people, do you, Ayela? Haven’t you ever tried the game Days in Faerie? We should totally VR it after this. Awesome way to blow a Saturday. It’s perfect for you! Super femme, and you can get a harem of sprites to wait on you hand and foot.”
I perked up. “Like, it’s a fantasy world in VR? With Sprites and Fairies? Pretty gals? Is it an erotic thing? Exactly how steamy will this Saturday get?”
“Come over and find out, but first, you need to see the rest of what Janelynn’s company produces. Check out that game at the top of the second column.”
“Bum And Get It?” I asked, confused.
“Look at the revenue.”
I did, but it meant nothing to me. “I have no idea what any of this means, Rhoda. Stop being cryptic and just fucking tell me.”
“That’s a b-grade game, Ayela. Not top-quality graphics or story lines. It shouldn’t be making that much money, and yet, it’s number three on the charts. It’s beating out Pressure Washers Seven, which was the top game three days ago. And it’s also produced by PlayTheCorp.”
“So?” I really had no idea where Rhoda was going with all of this. Who cared? She kept talking, unaware of my confusion.
“If you look at all of the video games in the top two-hundred most popular right now, all the best selling games, they have one thing in common. No matter if it’s a kids game, a femme game, a hard-hitting action game, or an off-color macabre comedy where people are eating butt cheeks, they are all developed by PlayTheCorp.”
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“So, Janelynn’s company is huge?” I tried.
Rhoda rolled her eyes again, “Haven’t you heard of a monopoly, Ayela?”
“Sure, but isn’t that what the Trade Guilds are, Rhoda? All the big corporations grouped together? The wealthiest people get jobs in the ministry because they own big companies, right?”
She pointed one finger, clearly enjoying herself. “They say it's fair and equal opportunity. To give variety and creative expression a place to bloom and grow all across the Known Cosmos, but Ayela, that’s not what’s happening. No one with a new, innovative game can break into the market because it’s dominated by one company, PlayTheCorp, and guess who's in charge?”
My stomach sank.
“Janelynn,” I said flatly, and the truth of it rang through my being.
“Rhoda, are you telling me that all that time I was joking about the twins’ mother being a mafia mom, she actually is a mafia mom?”
“If the shoe fits! Ayela, think about it. Violent criminals don’t exist in the 9 Galaxies, so no mob is gonna rule by breaking people’s knee caps. All the gaming mafia has to do is control the money and public opinion to get what they want. Feed people the games they’re convinced they like, and you keep them hooked. They think they’re playing the most popular games, just like all their friends, and that’s cool. But it’s all scripted. There’s no competition going on!” she said emphatically pointing to the ground.
“So no one stops to ask why all the popular games are made by a single corporation. No one’s asking questions, so Janelynn gets away with it?” I asked bewildered.
“Janelynn doesn’t need to break kneecaps like some stupid mob movie! There’s no resistance from the public. No one’s thinking about what’s happening behind the scenes. The information is being controlled!”
Rhoda was nearly wailing. I tried to pull her back down.
“Well, does it matter, Rhoda? I mean, it’s just video games. Who cares where they come from and who’s making money off of them?” I truly didn’t know why this was so important to her, other than the fact it explained why my old boss had sucked so bad.
“If you had an idea for a new game and wanted to break into the market, you sure as fuck would care, Ayela. But no small, brand-new company can survive in this monopoly.”
Rhoda stood up, waving her arms in the air ranting. “Without new products and ideas, there’s no innovation. It’s just rinse-repeat all day every day, year after year, decade after decade. The same people keep making the same products, churning out cookie-cutter content. There’s nothing new or original about any of it.”
“But is that a problem? Why care, Rhoda?” I wondered, feet pushing my swing gently.
She leaned in, eyes ablaze. “Don’t you see? Without innovation, we’re living the same lives our ancestors did. What has humanity really accomplished in the last 500 years? What's different? Did we crack the code of how to get out of the 9 Galaxies? Is our tech more advanced than it was centuries ago? Is it, Ayela?”
I felt my eyebrows screwing up. Maybe she had a point. “I— I don’t think so.”
“And how will we figure any of that out if we aren’t asking questions? Mafia Moms might have sounded like a funny joke book, but underneath it is a sinister truth: when the few control the knowledge, the many stagnate in their ignorance. And nothing—NOTHING—will ever change if that status quo is maintained,” Rhoda said with finality.
I hopped off my swing, pacing. Thinking of cold, calculating, cruel Janelynn in her home office suite, never paying attention to the twins. Not speaking to me like I was a person. Treating me like a commodity.
Expendable.
I was either useful or useless to her, and she had thrown me away like trash. What if there were more Mafia Moms exactly like her, controlling the markets of everything bought and sold on Earth, guiding what we were consuming from the shadows?
My stomach flopped at that idea. “Rhoda? How did Janelynn get to be the CEO of PlayTheCorp?”
The grin on her face was feral, and I knew I’d asked the right question.
“By being the daughter of Milky Way’s Galactic Minister of Technology.”
I grabbed the swing set pole to anchor myself so I wouldn’t fall over.
“I was babysitting the Galactic Minister’s grandchildren?” I squeaked. “What the fuck are they doing in Wyoming? Shouldn’t they live in Beverly Hills or New York or something?”
Rhoda shook her head. “Of course not. You can blend in easily in Wyoming, and Cheyenne is the perfect place to hide in plain sight. Marry a cybernetic surgeon. Have two children. Go to a church picnic once a year. Pretend you’re just like everybody else so no one thinks twice about what you’re doing in a billion-credit suit in your corrupt upstairs home office.”
I suddenly felt tiny and stupid. I’d never even stopped to think about what Janelynn was doing in that office. I’d been too terrified of her to consider it, but she had connections high up in the Trade Guild—her own father.
Joey and Mal’s grandfather.
My heart started racing, and I rubbed my palms on my knees. “Rhoda, what if? Could she—is my Nanna in danger? What if I pissed off the wrong woman by planning her kids' birthday party without asking her first? Her father is the Galactic Minister of Tech! That’s like—like, unlimited power!”
Rhoda squeezed my shoulder firmly. “Knock it off, Ayela! Don’t let them get to you! These people like intimidation, right? And guess what? You’re not under their thumbs anymore. I say, ‘Let pride be their downfall.’”
My head snapped up, “What're you getting at?”
“Ministry-types think they're untouchable so they get comfortable with their power, treating people like they don’t matter and stomping all over them. But stomp too often or too hard, and the populace won’t take it anymore.”
I shook my head, “No one cares, Rhoda. I mean, who’s gonna stop playing Mad Pheasants because of some corrupt corporate monopoly?”
“The moms and dads who find out the truth of how PlayTheCorps Don treats her own kids.”
My eyes bulged outta my head. “WHAT?!”
“You tell them the truth, Ayela. You’re already writing a story on Purple Road, so tell the people another one. Tell the 9 Galaxies the story of what went on with Joey and Mal’s Mafia Mom, and you’ll be playing the game too. Hiding in plain sight under a pen name. A useless, throw-away nanny no one cared about.”
No way. She couldn’t possibly mean that.
“Rhoda, you’re talking about attacking the Don of PlayTheCorps in her fucking backyard.”
“Then do it well. So only the wisest think twice about what they’ve just read,” and I felt the determined look in her eyes ripple through my whole being.
“Oh. My. Fucking. God. I am so doing this,” I rasped, hands holding my head in shock.
That was how it started folks, and it doesn’t end there. I’ve got a lot more to tell ya, so keep the line open. You’ll be hearing from me again.
?
“Hey!” HC yelped, grabbing the bag I’d tossed at him.
“What’s this all about?” he complained. “Here I am, minding my own business, putting the final polish on a Muriel and Harley story that you’d probably love to read, and you dump your half-eaten popcorn in my lap.”
I grinned at my friend. “Thought you’d like a snack. Wanna swapsies? You can read my new ‘Mafia Moms’ short, and I’ll read 'Murder Auld?'”
“I bet mine’s better,” he smirked, crunching popcorn.
“We’ll ask Bitsy to judge. How about that?” I snorted.
“Deal.”
We swapped files, and HC got to read my Cosmos-unravelling short while I enjoyed his latest holiday caper.
Honestly? I thought his would win the contest based on entertainment value alone, but shouldn't readers decide for themselves?
Who wins?
