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  The Amazons spread around them. They casually surrounded their bike in a diamond pattern. Galene dared to glance at the one on her right.

  Her veil popped up, and she saw her public social media profile. Her name was Clete, and she casually flaunted her night time activities, leading her gang, racing in Paraliaki Avenue, smashing up cars.

  Just like they had done two seconds ago.

  Holy crap, thank the gods for public transportation. “I moved back in Athens only a year ago, so I’ve only heard about them.”

  “Yeah,” mumbled Greg looking ahead, “it has been interesting, to say the least.”

  Clete stared back at Galene and winked at her.

  Then she… war cried, Galene guessed?

  The glottal continual war-cry was mimicked in an instant by the rest and they drove ahead before the light turned green. An incoming car braked hard, the driver cursed at one of the Amazons, she just swore back at him and kicked his hood.

  Then they drove away, disappearing down the street.

  “What the hell is their problem?” Galene asked. “Are people just gonna take it like that, damaging their cars?”

  The light turned green and Greg drove on. “It’s better not to do anything, trust me,” he sighed. “Plus, there’s a general vehicular damages option you can slap on your car insurance nowadays, it’s dumb not to have it.”

  “That’s easy to say if your corp is paying for it!” Gal noted.

  “True. But, these days, if you’re not with a corp, you’re not with anything.”

  Chapter 15: Galene @ 0.8x nhs

  “You, Sir, need to explain to me what it is you’re doing up there,” Galene pointed with her fork.

  “Okay.” Greg thought about it. “You’re a sci-fi nerd. I’m sure you’ve seen Limitless?”

  “Duh? It’s a classic.”

  Greg winced. “It’s not that old. Wait, it is. I feel old now. Nevermind. By the way, Limitless is one of the rare cases of a movie improving upon the book.”

  Galene swallowed the tiny bite she took out of the meat, and wiped her mouth with the cloth napkin, gently. Like a lady. It wasn’t a fancy restaurant, but she definitely couldn’t afford to eat here every day.

  Who was she kidding? She couldn’t afford to eat here even once.

  “So you take a pill and become a genius?”

  “Not at all. Look, the basic idea is the same. The movie is bullshit, of course, in it the pill works like magic. It gives you super-awareness, perfect recall, super learning abilities. No, it’s not like that. As much as I love the movie and the TV series, it’s offensive to anyone who’s dedicated years to become an expert in anything. You don’t just pop a pill and learn stuff that took someone else 10 years to master. It’s just not possible.”

  “Okay, I get it,” she nodded. “Classic Hollywood hyperbole. It is a movie after all. What’s the real thing that you do, mister Analyst?”

  “Okay, here it is. The brain has a certain plasticity, meaning it adapts. That’s why blind people have enhanced senses of touch and smell and hearing. There’s brainpower there with no input, so it adapts to the other inputs. At the same time, and this one is a little hard to get, our own brain constantly puts a filter on our senses. If we were to see and hear and feel everything that our sensors pick up, we’d be overwhelmed. We’d go mad, unable to function. In layman’s terms, that’s one of the problems with autism, they get too much input. We ignore things to focus on what we need, we forget things to make room for new memories.”

  “I’m with you up till now. Go on.”

  “Do you know that you can hear your own heart beating? All the time, every minute of every day in your life, you’ve been hearing your heart beat.”

  “Really?”

  “Totally. But the brain filters it out. It’s constant, and it’s a useless piece of info to be honest, so the brain simply discards it.”

  “Yeah, I read about that pointy quiet room that people can’t stay in for more than 15 minutes or so.”

  “Exactly. Okay, so my point is that the brain adapts. Scientifically and empirically proven. What I’m doing, is something similar to time-management.”

  “Ugh! My one weakness, my Achilles heel…” she whined theatrically.

  “I noticed. You’ve heard of people saying, ‘I gave up on watching TV, cause you waste 4 hours per day on it,’ etc?”

  “Yeah. But they say it with a much snobbier tone.” She pushed her nose up.

  “I don’t own a television, people waste so much time on it,” Greg said snobbishly.

  “Perfect. Go on.”

  “But not doing something that wastes time, doesn’t mean anything if you don’t actually utilise that time. If you spend those same hours on Netflix or watching cat videos online, it’s the same thing.”

  “Guilty,” she nodded.

  “But what if you spend that time learning something new? A skill, a language, a craft? And if it’s something fun, you spend your past-time learning something useful.”

  “Yeah… But that doesn’t make you speak faster and read faster, like I’ve seen you do.”

  “Correct. That goes back to neuroplasticity. It was accidental, really. I was watching some instructional video on Youtube, and it had a playback speed option. I sped it up cause the guy was really taking his time, you know?”

  “I know. But that makes the squeaky voice. Like a chipmunk.”

  “Yeah, but you can make out the information just fine. That’s the whole point. Anyway, I got used to it, and I was watching how-to videos at 1.5x speed, slowing down if there was something too complicated.”

  “Okay, Youtube videos. Then what?”

  “You know I’m dyslexic?”

  “Really?” She frowned.

  “Yeah. Not by a lot, but it’s easier for me to hear stuff rather than read it. So I was hooked on audiobooks. Both for fiction and for non-fiction, I can’t get enough of them.”

  “Oh, that’s what the hard drives were for in your apartment! And I couldn’t understand why you’d list only a hundred of books on each.”

  “Yes, they fill up quickly at the pace I’m collecting. Okay, so, I got used to listening to audiobooks while working out, while driving, before going to sleep. And the app had a speed up option on it, but with pitch correction. So you could speed up the narration, but the voice sounded pretty much the same.”

  “Riiight. That’s what I was telling you last time.”

  “Yup. And I was listening to the Harry Potter books, read by Stephen Fry. He’s got a wonderful, crystal clear voice, that is rather slow. They are meant for kids, after all. So I could easily keep up at 1.45x speed. After a couple of days, listening through the books on and off whenever I had time to spare, I was at the middle of the series and I had totally forgotten that the speed up option was on. So I tried putting it back to default, and the voice was so… damn… slow…”

  “Your brain had gotten used to it.”

  “My brain had gotten used to it,” he nodded. “It was a small shock for me. So I tried to push it further, at 1.8x speed. It wasn’t comfortable, and some things flew past me because my mind sometimes wanders. So I settled at an average of 1.55x speed and finished the whole series. Each book is like 20 hours of running time, and I read it at about 13, with no problems of recalling events and enjoying myself.”

  “Enjoying yourself is very important,” she nodded up and down, voice dripping with innuendo.

  “Where have you been all my life?”

  “At the basement.”

  He smiled at her. “So, Netflix was big at the time, right? It was the time humanity found out that they love bingeing on shows for hours on end.”

  “So it was your generation’s fault,” she accused.

  “Yes, we brought upon Armageddon. So, a new show popped up that I wanted to watch, usually a superhero thing or something with spaceships. And it would have a 13 episode runtime, with 40 minutes per episode. That’s about 8.6 hours. But Netflix would chop
off the credits, shaving off even more time for you to binge. Then it shaved off the intro, so that brought it at a round 8 hours. I found a plugin that could speed up the playback with pitch correction, so I watched shows at 1.20x to 1.40x normal speed. At the extreme end, that was slightly under 6 hours. That meant I could binge around all day with my shiny new show AND still have time to do some actual work on a project.”

  “You have found the secret to life, the universe, everything.”

  “I know,” he laughed. “Okay, make fun of me all you want, but I’m 42 and you’re 22. Trust me, your brain hasn’t begun to falter yet, you don’t know how it is. You can probably juggle learning two languages and do your job at the same time at this age.”

  “Hah! I can’t even finish my degree. Fuck that, I can’t even finish my daily chores.”

  “Really? Well, you could, that’s what I’m saying. It’s not your brainpower that’s stopping you, it’s your willpower.”

  “Yes, Sensei.”

  “Stop making me feel old.”

  “You’re the one who pointed out our age gap! Our age… canyon.”

  “Shut up, I can feel my telomeres shrivelling every time you utter a word.”

  “Ooh, talk nerdy to me,” she meowed.

  “Oh, I can go on all night, young lady.”

  “Prove it,” she winked.

  “Can I finish my story?”

  “Yes, how rude of me. Finish your origin story, please.”

  “So I binged on shows I liked and finally watched some old movies I always wanted to see, like Casablanca, Gone With the Wind, a few Westerns, you know. The old movies have a slower pace and the editing is a lot slower than the modern ones, so I could comfortably watch at 1.80x speed. I went through a 2 hour movie at a little over an hour of screen-time, split over my day. You know, 20 minutes making breakfast, 30 minutes at lunch, 10 minutes before bed.”

  “Okay, I think I get it now. It’s about combining basic time-management with the neuroplasticity of sped up input.”

  Greg lifted an eyebrow. “Now who’s talking nerdy to whom?”

  “You’re saying, everybody can get used to sped up input.”

  “Yes. Seriously, try it! You can speed up anything for 1.10x, which is ten percent. The difference is negligible, you ignore it after a minute or so. But that saves you 10 whole minutes with an average movie. Trust me, it adds up.”

  “That can’t be unnoticeable in all media.”

  “True. A talk show can be sped up like crazy, something romantic which is slow can easily be sped up to 1.50x, but an action movie will be horrible at anything over 1.20x. The action scenes will be a mess. But I used to skip things like car chases, anyway.”

  “Excuse me, you what?” She put her fork down.

  “I skipped the car chases in movies. Just pressed the right arrow and skipped ahead.”

  “Why?”

  “They bore me.”

  “How can anyone be bored of car chases? They’re awesome!”

  “Not to me,” he shrugged.

  “You’re becoming weird in your old age, apparently.”

  “Ouch, and no, I felt the same way when I was younger too.”

  “Weirrrrd.”

  “Fucking generation hash with your veils and your holosounds.”

  “Fucking millennials with your debt and your obesity.”

  “Did you just call me fat?”

  “No, you’re quite fit. But I’m eating that garlic bread,” she teased as she snatched it and ate it noisily.

  “I left that aside on purpose. And when one of us has had garlic bread on a date, it’s only polite that the other has a bite as well.”

  “Oh really? Planning on breathing somewhere close to me?”

  He shrugged. “You never know. The night is young.”

  Gal bit her lip, obviously forcing herself not to say something.

  “You’re holding back a joke with ‘young’ in it, aren’t you?”

  “Sorry,” she chuckled.

  “It’s okay. Don’t you think that petty words will stop me.”

  “Will garlic-breath do the trick?”

  “Nah…”

  “Thought so.”

  There was an awkward silence for a while. They both obviously teased each other, and liked each other, but no one had actually made a move. In the end, she broke the silence.

  “Okay, at first, I was just making conversation, but now I’m genuinely curious. You talked about watching shows and reading books. How do you go from being a couch potato with awesome time management skills to an analyst who’s being given millions to play with?”

  “Well…” Greg mumbled, “I simply applied the same things to useful stuff. I learnt German and Japanese, I studied the stock market, cryptocurrency documentaries, technological breakthroughs that haven’t hit the market…”

  “So you overclocked your brain.”

  “That’s a great way of putting, it, yeah.” He drank from his wine.

  “Yeah.” She fluttered her eyes at him. “But, you know what happens to an overclocked processor?”

  “You tell me.”

  “It gets fried.”

  Chapter 16: Galene @ 0.6x nhs

  Galene went through the motions. Climbing up and down Hermes tower, tending to broken computers and forgotten passwords. Just another day in the job.

  What she couldn’t stop thinking about, was Greg. Every time she jumped on the elevator, her finger hovered over the button for the 80th floor.

  It wasn’t as simple as stepping off the elevator and bumping onto him though. She had seen the tight security measures up there. Would her access card even work? Or would she swipe at the door and… what? She imagined red lights and alarms blaring off. Maybe a net falling onto her. Hot lava surrounding her.

  She shook her head.

  “Here, try switching back to the English keyboard, and type your password once more,” she said professionally. Leaving the Greek input method on was about thirty percent of password-related tickets.

  “Oh, it works! Great, thanks a lot.” The woman went back to her work.

  Galene forced a smile and walked away, tapping on her laptop. Another ticket serviced. Two more to go. For now. For they never stopped coming.

  It was like a Sisyphean torture.

  Gal sighed and rode the elevator once more, towards her task.

  “Yes, boss?” she answered her phone.

  “Drop what you’re doing and go up to the 80th, they’ve asked for you again,” her boss demanded.

  As if he had to tell her twice! “Sure…” she said casually. “OMW.”

  She had to force herself to stop hopping while getting up there.

  Chapter 17: Galene @ 0.7x nhs

  An arrow flew past her and lodged itself to the target on her right.

  “I’m pretty sure the last time I was here, the living room wasn’t an archery field,” Gal said, frozen at the door.

  “Indoor archery, to be precise,” said Greg and placed his composite bow in a weird stand. It had a long counterbalance in the middle that had to stay upward.

  “Is it safe to step inside now?” Gal joked.

  “Come on in,” he motioned.

  “What are you doing?”

  Greg tapped the air for some interface commands and her veil showed two enormous screens beside them. One had a picture of a young woman in athletic clothes, and the other had videos of archery competitions. The colours she wore were yellow t-shirt and blue slacks, the Ukrainian national colours.

  “Artemis,” he presented, “back in her Viktoriya Marchenko days. My new assigned project.”

  The words ‘Top Secret’ flared red on top of everything in she could see in Augmented Reality.

  “I see.” She decided to be professional. She was still on the clock, after all. And Greg was too. Wait, was he ever off? “What did you need me to do?”

  “What I need from you,” Greg said smiling, “is to work your magic here.” He showed his workstat
ion.

  “Sure. But what exactly?” She put her laptop bag down.

  “The first time you were here, it took you five minutes to come up with a simple improvement that increased my speed by 10%. Naturally, I’m at a level where everything has diminishing returns, no matter what I do. Lots of people have brainstormed improvements, trust me on this, but you came in here with a fresh set of eyes. So I asked for you to be assigned on this.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Plus you get to see me more.”

  “It is an added bonus,” he bowed.

  “Please don’t misunderstand my intentions. I actually do need your expertise.” He stepped closer to her. He smelled sweaty, but it was nice.

  “Okay. Just so we’re clear, during work hours, we work,” she pointed a finger.

  “Of course.”

  “I’ll have to tear your set-up to pieces. Do you have a secondary one you can use?” She sat on his chair.

  “I’ll have Mel bring something up here.” He threw himself on his couch and drank some orange juice.

  Gal paused. Without turning, she said, “Are you gonna sit behind my back all day?”

  “I’m going for a shower. Can’t wait to hear about all your innovative ideas,” he clapped and left.

  Galene sat there alone, immobile. Nothing new came to mind. No new ideas. She slapped her side of her head, maybe something would dislodge.

  Well, skata.

  Chapter 18: Galene @ 0.8x nhs

  “I got nothing,” she said scrunching her face.

  “It’s okay.” He smelled nice and fresh. “Let me teach you how to come up with ideas.”

  “How can someone teach that?”

  “It’s simple, and hard at the same time. It can’t really be taught, but there’s a technique I use.”

  Gal swivelled around in the desk chair. “Okay, teach me how.”

  “May I?” He pulled the keyboard close. “First of all, you need to decide what you want to do. What we want here are improvements upon my techniques. The workstation, the processing speed, the dedicated line to the server, all that. Now that we’ve defined our goal, we need to fill up our brains with facts and data. Really, really, fill it up, till it spills over. Then we take a break and clear our minds, take a walk, do some exercise, read a book. Then we carry a notepad with us and write down the ideas that show up.”