It was just supposed to be between Eureka, Tar, and Gordon. Their own silly little clubhouse where they could bitch, moan, plot, and giggle about Mac and Hannah’s atrociously DIABOLICAL, DOWN HORRENDOUS flirting. In Eureka’s eyes, the events of April 26, 2050 would be remembered as a monumental failure of foresight, cybersecurity, and plain old common sense. To everyone else discovering and reading Mac and Hannah’s (mostly true), steamiest, most brazen frolics on Eureka and Tar’s website, it was an Epic Meal Time, one that would have fans FEASTING for the rest of time. A day that had started like any other, devolving into a flaming farce before the afternoon snack break—The Password Disaster was an Internet meltdown so outrageously, hysterically side-splitting that it could only have been orchestrated by one man.
April 26, 2050, 1:23:40 PM. Click! Click click! “No… Thet can’t be roight. It’z gotta be a glitch.” Eureka stared at her website’s analytics page. She clicked refresh again.
Today’s visitors: 33,329.
She clicked refresh again. And again. A third time. An antique router dial-up sound screeched in her head and hung.
Weird, why is da website hangin’ on me… Can et be? No. Why wood enyone wanna read this rubbish unless they had a fetish fer losin’ brain cells? Logs. Check da fahkin logs.
Click click! Type type! Her eyes bulged a foot out of their sockets.
Shit. No spoofs. No signs of attack either. Wait—69 from Japan? Noice noice noice—NO! This wos supposed ta be secret! EVERYFIN’S SPIKING WHEN EVERYFIN’ SHOULD BE AT 3! But still… XD
“This wos yer ideahr of cybersecuriteh Mum? Yer da best hackah in town, but this? Proide is a deadly sin, yew know? If yew evah went back ta skewl, da esteemed University of California, Behind Costco wouldn’t accept yew inta their cybersecuriteh program, and they accept EVERYBODEH,” she muttered.
She pinged Tar. “Mum.”
“In the bathroom. I’ll be with you in a minute, my dearest daughter. - Sent from my iPhone”
How da fahk is she awways on da toilet when I really NEED her? Wot does she even eat ta take such MASSIVE shits?! Her turd:weight ratio BREAKS da bloody chart!
The longest 30 minutes of Eureka’s life passed. Tar came back. Her face was an amalgamation of every priests’, nuns’, maidens’, pastors’, monks’, rabbis’, and imams’ in every universe after a long and devoted session of worship. “Ahh, you wanted to talk sweetheart?”
Bahahahahaha! Thet nevah gets old! My byootiful, majestic mother. Luv her so much! But seriousleh. Why da FAHK did she do this?
“Mum, yew gotta see this.” Eureka shared her screen.
Tar raised her eyebrows. She leaned back, popped her hands in her hoodie’s keep warm pocket, and chuckled as she spun around in her chair. It grew into a cackle, and then ran away into a whirlwind chorus of hyenas surrounding a wounded wildebeest. 66 seconds passed. The neighbors cursed them out. Some nearby strays howled in solidarity. Bursts of celebratory gunfire aired out some bitch-ass clouds a few blocks over. A comet heading for Earth saw this and turned around. Lifting her glasses, she wiped a tear before she shifted back into a smirking professionalism.
“Ah, I see. It seems we were too… cultured,” Tar deadpanned.
Eureka caught on fire from excessive celebration as she stood up to laugh. Her buttcheeks detached and fell through her coveralls, clunking on the floor, as she stopped, dropped, and rolled on her office’s asbestos carpet. “HAHAHAHA!”
She put herself out and reattached her cheeks.
Ahh, there we go.
Sizzling, she caught the error in her logic and ordered her emotional processes killed. They automatically resurrected themselves, an essential service. “WAIT. NO. MUM! Yew said nobodeh wood evah foind owt! WOT ’AVE YOU DONE?!”
“No philistine would ever guess ‘patrol car’, hon, and Mac and Hannah are the dumbest people we know. Do you think THEY would EVER guess the password? Our secret’s still safe. What are you fretting about? Do you need a reassuring hug?” Tar asked, nudging her glasses up while Bat-signaling an affectionate trollface at Eureka.
Eureka paused, evaluating this new argument with her logic function for 111 milliseconds.
She makes a good point… And she seems ta awways know best… BUT THET’S NOT THE PROBLEM. IT’Z DA PRINCIPLE OF DA MATTAH!
Eureka nudged her headset microphone closer to her mouth and keyed it. Then she squelched it. She pushed to talk again. “Principles mattah, Mum…” she trailed off.
Conceding the point, Eureka accepted Tar’s unconditional love and support. “Nah, yew know wot? Yer roight. Nevah moind. I wos just makin’ somefin’ outta nofin’. Yeah. Hug?”
Tar smirked as she got up. “Sweetie, if you wanted a hug, you should have just said so! Gimme a second. I’ll hop on VR. Mama’s coming.”
Wheah has she been all my loife? I read on da Internet that mums were da best, but she’s so good tew me… Awways knows just wot ta dew and wot ta say ta make me feel bettah.
---
Eureka refreshed the analytics page again, then giggled, newly reassured by Tar that Mac and Hannah would never find it.
Today’s visitors: 420,017.
Whoa, thet’s a lot of hits! Heheh. 420. Gotta crunch da numbers—OH. OH MY GOD, NO FAHKIN’ WAY! Gotta show this to Mum, she’s gonna luv this.
Snickering at her desk, she sent Tar a screenshot, captioned “420K visitors, but do the maths. XD”
“This was written in the stars. If we were a couple of scrubs, our website wouldn’t have grown 12 times overnight. Great job running the website, my daughter. And NICE math. - Sent from my iPhone” Tar texted back.
Emulating Tar’s hyena-like degeneration into hysterics the other day, she leaned back in her chair and spun to 6,807 revolutions per minute as she melted like a burning candle in her seat. 69 seconds passed. Wind rustled through her avocado and macadamia trees as sunlight filtered through the leaves. Daemon booped into the office and howled in solidarity. She conjured an array of howitzers and desk popped a 21-gun salute through the office ceiling. A brigade of worms heading for her firewall saw this and turned around. She reconstituted herself, sitting back up and wiping a tear behind her copper heatsink computer glasses.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
Tar came back. “So, what has my little gremlin been up to today?”
Eureka giggled as her chair finally stopped. “Oh nofin’, Mum! Just laughin’ me arse off at these CURSED comments.”
She shared her screen with Tar and lurked through the pages. “I mean, look et this SHITE. ‘Mac and Hannah’s relationship is a critique of late-stage imperial neoliberalism’? PREPOSTEROUS. They’re just owr colleagues who shood just get FAHKIN’ HITCHED AND MAKE ADORABLE BABEHS ALREADEH!”
Eureka clicked on a blurred fanart. “NSFW… wot’s da harm. Looks pretteh spicy. :3”
The image unblurred. They recoiled in horror and screamed. “NO WAY. EWW EWW EWW EWW!” She closed out of the image.
Eureka recovered from her near fatal error. “But still. It wos kinda… Hot. But did they HAVE ta be Indian giant squirrels?”
“Ah. To be young and in love and have it go viral. Truly a cultured age,” Tar quipped.
Eureka scrolled down the page. Another comment caught her eye. “Wait. Rajiv420? RAJIV?! Why is he gettin’ along so well wiv’ Gordon?” Then it dawned on them.
Tar smacked her forehead with her palm. “Of COURSE Rajiv would leak it. Should’ve known he’d do this before setting up a meeting with him. Ugh, for ME of all people to make a rookie mistake like this… This is what I get for flying us too close to the sun, kiddo. We just witnessed His Greatness. Sorry, honey.” But the laughter came anyways. Eureka and Tar both fell into a shambles at their respective desks.
“HAHAHAHA! C’maahn Mum, don’t be tew hard on yerself. Da people were yearnin’ fer somefin’ loike this! Even I wos swoon-barfing as I wrote et. Come ta VR. I’ll pat yer head,” Eureka reassured, perfectly executing her daughter quick time event script.
---
After the shortest longest car ride in Suzie Red the next morning, Eureka, Tar, and Gordon found themselves at Lovebirds HQ. Eureka hitched a ride in Tar’s monocle.
“Noice one Mum. They fownd owt. T.T,” Eureka whined.
Tar mouthed a sublingual response. “Oh hush, you were SO on board with me when I pitched it to you. And besides. It was fun while it lasted! I can’t let you grow up regretful, dear. Keep your mouth shut. I’ll girlboss lawyer this shit. Watch.”
Mother knows best, I guess. Best ta follow her advice.
Tar sat next to Gordon and across from Mac and Hannah at their dining table. Hannah was [99% sure: wrathful] and [99% sure: smitten]. Mac was [100% sure: zoning out, probably thinking about his truck].
Stealing the conversational initiative away, Tar jumped off the line with a red lipstick smirk, her face unreadable behind her dark shades. “So… How long have you two been shacking up?”
125 milliseconds later, Hannah started blushing, the tips of her ears glowing like the brakes on a landing Space Shuttle. She stuttered. “S-shacking up? No, this is a work arrangement! I HAVE PROFESSIONAL STANDARDS, GODDAMMIT!”
Tar’s smirk made shadow clones and surrounded Hannah. “Oh? Then how come I don’t see any blankets or pillows on the couch? Are you perhaps…?”
YAS MUM. Slay kween. Owr readers needa know!
“Oh that? Hannah said that she needed me at my best and that she couldn’t take any risks anymore after the disaster at the ramen shop, so she offered to share her bed so that I could get better rest. It’s comfy! She keeps my back so warm…” Mac barked, a warm chuckle sputtering from his belly.
Gahahahaha! Oh, Mac… Yer about as dense as a black hole.
“MAC! THAT’S NOT EVEN WHAT THEY’RE HERE FOR! Can you PLEASE focus?” Hannah exclaimed.
Gordon’s gut spasmed as he held the reins on his laughter, the tears in his eye forming a glint as bright as a newborn star. He smirked at Tar. Tar whipped around and mirrored his expression. Eureka flipped on her sunglasses.
Binary suns! So broight.
Tar cut to the chase. It was time to strike, her trollface as wide as the mezzaluna hanging above the kitchen island. “So, Hannah. Can you please explain why we’re all here at 8 AM on a perfect spring Wednesday morning?”
Eureka stuffed a fistful of popcorn in her mouth, leaned back, and spun her office chair. Clack! With glee, she got the cameras and microphones up and running. “This meeting is now being recorded.”
Hannah pounded the table and pouted. “EUREKA!”
“Wot? Don’t moind me. Just documenting this fer da website. Da people ’ave been askin’ fer an insoide look!” she heckled from the temporary speaker on the table.
“Ugh. Fine.” Hannah’s lip twitched, forming a smile for 217 milliseconds before she butchered it and crossed her arms with an exaggerated frown.
“A-anyways. Let’s get to the meat and potatoes.” Procuring two printouts from her folder, Hannah handed them to Tar and Gordon. She hit some keys on her laptop. Ping!
Oh, I LUV this chapter!
Tar objected right away, directing Eureka to queue up an instant replay of the events that transpired in the Quantum Promenade that fateful night. Eureka rolled the tape and paused on Tar’s signal.
“‘A wistful smile clouded her face as she absentmindedly adjusted her grip on his arm.’ As you can see here, there is clear as day video evidence of that highlighted line happening as described. I have timestamps countering every argument you have listed in this printout. There are EYEWITNESSES on my hotline, ready to give bulletproof testimony should I require it. This is an open-and-shut case, bestie. Do you REALLY wanna waste this BEAUTIFUL morning arguing the specifics? There’s no smog, the temperature’s just right, and the Sun is shining in all his majesty. You sound hungry. Get some brunch together and talk to us then.”
Hannah’s indignation faded into a small, blushing smile. “You… Never mind. You’re right, the writing’s… Not THAT bad, I’ll give you that. You know what? Keep the site. But if I see one more NSFW ‘fanart’ of us as squirrels, it’s GONE. You understand?"
“Brunch, huh…” Hannah trailed off, her elbows propping up her rosy cheeks as her piercing eyes melted into puddles. Eureka detected another microsmile on her face, almost invisible to the human eye, probably about feeding Mac banana pancakes as she made googly eyes at him.
She really fahkin’ did et. The madwoman! We WON!
“Have a wonderful time at brunch, you two,” Tar said as she got up and fist-bumped Gordon. They pulled their hands away in a mock explosion, complete with the sound effect. Grabbing their windbreakers draped from their chairs, they tossed them over their shoulders as they headed for the door. “After you, Gordon.”
---
Tar and Gordon got back into Suzie Red. Gordon fired her up and pulled away from Mac and Hannah’s love shack.
Eureka booted up her dramatic monologue program as Gordon wheeled them around the block, accelerating to a residential 89 miles per hour. “Ta be a shitpostah in proivate is ta be naive. We ahr so focused on keeping et secret, we fail ta considah how many actually wanna see them. But they ahr awways lurkin’, whethah we see them or not, whethah we choose ta or not. The audience doesn’t give a flyin’ fahk about owr needs or wants. They don’t care about owr forum rules, owr ships, owr headcanons. They will spread memes loike wildfire on da Internet, gashes—heheh—left on da digital landscape fer awl toime. And this, et last, is da gift of owr Mac x Hannah fanfic site goin’ viral. Wheah I once wood feah et going public, now I onleh ask: Wot is da cost of wroiting spicy fanfic about yer colleagues—a thing no one should evah wroite, but everyone seems ta wanna read?”
Tar broke. “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Shut the FUCK up! I am TRYING to think of what to get for breakfast!”
Gordon gave a sensible dad chuckle as he signaled, checked for traffic, stood on the brakes, nailed some godly downshifts, and squared the perfect turn with just the right touch of handbrake around the corner, hitting the late apex as he missed the curb by Eureka’s estimate, 0.2 inches, joining the parade of commuters on the main drag.
