By Alice Webb-Smith
Gemma ran down the stairs with a huge grin — it certainly was childish, but she couldn’t help it. It wasn’t as if there was no reason to be excited, anyway. Bouncing excitably on her feet, she opened the door and looked at the delivery person.
They looked… nice, she supposed. Tired, mostly. Gemma had the eye for those things and she could tell that they probably were some struggling college student who had picked up the job to get money. Honestly, some parents were inconsequential, enrolling their children for college without having enough money. That was simply irresponsible.
They handed her the electronic pad and she hastily signed it. The delivery person looked at her, tilting their head curiously. It was most certainly their first job; most of the delivery people who stopped by Gemma’s house didn’t even spare her a glance anymore. They also struggled to get the package from the company’s truck; as understandable as it was, with it being heavy and everything, it was rather irritating. After all, it had been nearly two weeks of waiting for that package, with all the delays and the accidents. Still, she supposed, it was part of the process. The delivery person put the box at her feet and went to collect the other ones, thankfully smaller.
Had Gemma only been told, at the beginning of the whole ordeal, how deeply annoying warranties were, she would have enlisted someone to help. Here she was instead, at her door, after several weeks of frustration and growing impatience — not that she had ever really been patient, anyway.
But there it was: her package, unbroken and perfect. Or, well, as perfect as an item could be, anyway. She thanked the delivery person, who shrugged and went back to their truck without one more word. Youth these days really was terrible, as old as the statement made Gemma feel. Still, excitement won over her and she shrugged it off, her smile firmly into place again.
With shaky hands, she took the little boxes and stacked them in her room. Then she took the biggest package, put it on her bed and checked her cameras.
“Hi everyone!” she cheerfully said. Sunny smiles and overall bubbly demeanour were her trademark, and she really couldn’t afford losing audience just because she wasn’t perfectly happy-go-lucky. “Today we’re once again together for a new unboxing video! This one is a small one ‘cuz we’re unboxing the much-expected Cecily Company package!
“I’m sure you all remember the disaster we had with Cecily Company last time, with the package exploding at my face while I was opening it and everything — yuck — but they did have a warranty for that kind of accident. Although, let me tell you… warranties are hell to find! Nothing against you, CeCeCo, of course. You really did your best here, guys.”
She took a deep breath. Here it was: the grand opening. Her palms felt a bit clammy, despite how often she opened packages for her followers. But, of course, as long as it didn’t show…
“And of course, as I was a veeery disappointed client, they upgraded me to a premium package free of any charge! It was literally so sweet of them. Everyone thanks Cecily Company, official sponsor for this video!”
She reached for the box cutter, raised it for the camera and gave a goofy smile.
“But enough with the boring commercial advertising! You’re not here for that, and neither am I! Let’s discover together what, exactly, is inside that box… And let me tell you — ow — it’s as big as it’s heavy!”
She carefully cut open the cardboard, then held the metal pod for everyone to see. It was very similar to a big silver egg, actually, except it was easily half Gemma’s size. It didn’t appear to have any opening but, when she touched it, the ghost of a screen danced upon the reflective surface. Gemma winked playfully into it, confident that one of the numerous cameras that surrounded the living-room would catch it.
“They sent me a one-time code on my phone to open that thing, so let me just…” The pod glowed green before opening. Gemma beamed at the camera. “Oh gosh, that reminds me of the very old sci-fi movies — except it’s for real here, folks!”
She pried open the pod and peered inside. The cameras inside her eyes would record everything, she knew it, although it would be a pain to edit, as usual. The inside of the pod was violaceous and gooey, and warm enough that it was slightly uncomfortable. There was a puddle of something at the bottom, something transparent and sticky and smelly, and she wrinkled her nose. You would have thought they would have managed to remove the sticky parts by now. She slowly removed the first tubes — pink, thick, vaguely sticky. She had been told it was normal. Foraging between the components of the pod, she snapped the cannula with a quick gesture, while still keeping up a cheerful stream of chatter. Gosh, she hoped it wouldn't stain her clothes like last time. That had been a pain to remove.
“With the premium package, not only do you have all of the options — and I mean truly all of them, and boy are those fun — but also, they send you everything you’ll need!”
She held out a small oval shape with a victorious smile. It was still very wet and sticky, but she trusted it would get better. It moved faintly, enough that one could make out legs and arms, and began to cry. She suppressed a sigh. Replacing the cry by a laugh would be a headache and a half.
“It’s got green eyes, red hair, freckles and an affinity for computer science and violin! Well, among other fun options, but no spoilers, darlings!”
The baby opened its eyes. Gemma winked at the camera and ended the video.
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About the Author
Alice Webb-Smith studies medieval history and dead languages in uni.
She has been writing whenever and wherever she can since she was eleven.
She is never usually seen without a book and ink stains on her person.
Gemma’s Package is her first publication.
She can be contacted at <
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