Pandora’s Pleasure
Nemo steals intellectual property in the name of justice - and gets more than he bargained for.
“They may be a self-serving cult, but at least they’re clever,” Nemo thinks as he approaches the back alley door emblazoned with neon text: “Nothin’ to see here.”
Nemo’s curiosity is doubly stoked now. He’s made his way to another secret location of an OriginalSyn crypto ATM—not in an empty field this time, but behind a boarded-up movie theater.
He plans to steal the entire black cube ATM rather than destroy it, like he did at the Virgo New Moon two weeks ago.
After all, OriginalSyn stole his idea for hiding product across the city as part of a publicity campaign—so it’s only fair turnabout to inspect their goods, he tells himself.
The rusty door creaks as he opens it, revealing a cubby hole so tight he has to crawl on his hands and knees to reach the cube.
“Feeling like Indiana Jones today,” he mutters.
Meanwhile, up in Cambridge, a raincoat-clad Casey stands in front of an electronics store. OriginalSyn has told her to come in and ask for a “memory upgrade”—code for the clerk to open a back room.
That’s right: she’s decided to take them up on their modeling gig offer, after they agreed to anonymize her image in their promotional content.
She checks her hair in the sideview mirror of an old Ford Crestline convertible parked out front, then pushes open the door. A little bell jingles as it closes behind her.
Behind the register is a horseshoe-bald Chinese man, watching a re-run of “Happy Days”. An old Halloween special, in fact.
He laughs along with the pre-recorded laugh tracks, and says to Casey, “From when America was great!”
Casey fidgets as she watches the TV characters coasting in a Ford Crestline convertible. That’s random—right?
“I’m here, uh. . .I’m here for a memory upgrade.”
The wrinkle-faced man unlocks a back room door. She enters and he closes it behind her.
The room is lit by laptop glow, which reveals a host of cameras. Two OriginalSyn members sit on a luxurious velvet couch with a box of chocolates. The room smells sweet and pungent.
“Come have a seat,” a masked cult member intones with a heavy bass voice. Casey sits, tense and fidgety.
“What did you have in mind for tonight’s shoot?” she says, breaking the awkward pause.
“We want people to know that we’re in the business of occult wisdom,” another masked member says. “That’s why they want to join us. Nowhere else online can you get this level of esoteric info. So we thought, let’s pitch it as ‘A Taste of Knowledge.’ Nothing like seeing a beautiful woman enjoying chocolate right?”
Casey is intoxicated by the flattery and eats the bits of candy right from the cult member’s fingertips.
“We’re rolling,” another member chuckles from behind the camera. “Think she’s curious enough to try every flavor. . .”
A full 24 hours later, Nemo is guzzling his sixth can of Monster Energy—Java Swiss Chocolate flavor, to be exact—still trying to hack the black cube.
He’s got it hooked up to all sorts of machines, and just as he seems to crack the code, he gets a malware pop-up on his computer.
He clicks and clicks and clicks, but it just keeps popping up—until a video message begins to play.
An OriginalSyn member appears on the screen. “Nemo, my dear Nemo. You didn’t think we’d let you get our secrets so easily, did you? The offer still stands: come join us. You know you need us. Until then, maybe you’d like to see who else has joined our forces. . .we won’t have to release the uncut director’s edition, if you comply and return what’s rightfully ours. Get in touch, why don’t you? ”
The video jumps to a montage of what appears to be Casey’s mouth in a state of ecstasy.
Cold sweat mixed with fear and rage drips down Nemo’s temple as he watches the looping footage. . . To Be Continued. . .
