The Guide to Shopping in Low-Orbit Consumer Zones
A Babs & Hal Field Report - Part One
DISCLAIMER:
The following account is based on actual events, which may or may not have occurred entirely within a mobile app. What I (Babs) wanted was just a summer dress. Hal suspects that what followed was due to temporal interference and a sentient voucher algorithm.
Here goes.
As I said, all I wanted was a summer dress. Something funky. Or just fun. A bit abstract. A bit different. Colourful. Perhaps on a scale, Primark wouldn’t even bother to source the colour charts for.
So, I clicked. And I clicked again.
Okay, this second click wasn’t a dress. It was a pair of yellow socks. Abstract ones. Right down my alley.
And wham!
What the hell was that?!
It was a giant gold egg that had crashed from the sky. So large, it literally blocked everything out of view. It was not just gold. There was so much glitter on it, I was blinded for a second. And as I blinked and looked around, I realised I was sitting on top of a neon-pink hill made entirely of scrunchies and novelty socks.
Before I even regained my breath after the shock, a hammer landed next to the egg, with a huge thud. You guessed it. Gold. Lots of bling. And so big, it could have killed me if it had fallen on top of me. I knew I needed to find someone in charge. I couldn’t let this one pass; they needed to know what the HSE would do to them if I reported them for negligence.
“Haaaal!” I yelled at the top of my lungs. I heard my own voice reverberate as if on a loudspeaker system, and that was when I realised I was holding a plastic toy karaoke microphone. “Haaal! Where the hell are you and what the hell just…”
“You triggered the Seven Gifts Protocol.”
I jumped an inch in the air from fright as the voice was so unexpectedly close.
“I triggered the what?”
He pointed at the egg with an expression of distaste.
“There are seven of these. You need to break them all, and then you can pick a gift for each.”
“Yeah, but why would I want to do that? I can just ignore them and pick the gifts anyway, can’t I?”
“Not really. See how it blocks the view? It blocks everything else like that; there’s literally nothing beyond it. Unless you break it. Then you win a mystery kitchen gadget shaped like a pineapple. Or maybe a sticker. But if you don’t want that…”
“I do want that. But also, I want my dignity. Can I have both?”
Consulting a furry user manual that screamed when opened, Hal frowned. He took off his newsboy cap, scratched his head, then put it back, a bit crooked.
I could barely hear him over the screaming.
“Not in this economy.”
“Okay, gimme that hammer!”
“You won’t be able to lift it. Let me do it for you.”
It was the second time I nearly died from the falling shards, but I had no time to think about that because before I could even say anything, I was moving through aisles of vibrating mascara, edible nail stickers, and haunted teddy bears. Each item had a glowing £0 sign, but none could be picked up until I rated five other items I’d never seen.
Arms full of glow-in-the-dark salad tongs, I stumbled in a pile of bright green B-grade planetary invasion suits.
“I think I added a lace bodysuit to my cart just to escape a CAPTCHA puzzle.”
“Same. I answered three riddles about reversible crop tops just to look at socks.”
"Is it just me, Hal, or does this place look exactly like Southend-on-Sea got swallowed by a cashback portal?
Hal, consulting his hovering device, which had once been a phone and was now a cursed shopping app, grimaced as if nothing on the screen made sense.
"We’ve entered a Low-Orbit Consumer Zone. Common side effects include time dilation, cart fatigue, and an inexplicable craving for collapsible salad bowls. But yeah, I see what you mean. That Helter-Skelter does look like the one by the Southend Pier."
I think this was when I first heard it, but at the time, I didn’t want to consider that it was real. With all the spatial-temporal mess that was going on, I thought it was just due to a concussion I couldn’t remember contracting. Or low blood sugar. I did distinctly remember that I’d skipped breakfast. Or rather, I couldn’t remember eating it. It was hard to say which.
It was less than a whisper. Something about a hedgehog. I don’t know, I thought it was best not even to mention it to Hal.
"I only wanted a dress. Okay, two maybe. If they’re cheap enough, possibly three. Now I have seventeen keychains, a bedazzled egg whisk, and a Bluetooth spoon. None of which I remember choosing."
Hal (grimly): “That’s the Infinite Improbability Discount Drive for you. You never get what you want. You get what you almost clicked on once while scrolling half-asleep.”
Due to an unfortunate misunderstanding, your sixth free gift is now on fire. We apologise for the inconvenience. – The loudspeaker boomed, making us both jump into the air, and then into each other’s arms, which made Hal almost short-circuit with confusion because touching had never been included in his training.
Then again:
Attention shoppers: You are currently experiencing a mild temporal distortion. This is entirely normal. If you feel as though you’ve been here since last Tuesday and still haven’t found the checkout, please consult a customer service representative, or simply surrender to the void. The exit is located just past the seventh aisle of collapsible hat racks. Should you reach the unicorn-themed cleaning supplies, you have gone too far. Please scream quietly.
We looked at each other, puzzled. Hal opened his mouth, but then closed it with a shake of his very unsettlingly regular, geometrically perfect round head. He started to blink so fast that I thought he was about to short-circuit again, but it turned out to be just the glitter from a rogue pair of disposable fairy wings.
Then, I saw it. He cocked his head, ever so slightly, as if he was listening out for something. And I heard it again. The voice about the hedgehog.
“What was that?”
Hal didn’t answer. He looked as if either he was thinking harder and longer than usual, or he was frozen and needed a reboot.
“Hal? Hal? Hal?!” I was freaking out. I can’t be left here with my PA in a comatose state, and no access to a remote control! I looked around frantically, but the only ones I saw were just a bunch of rainbow-themed toy televisions.
“Yeah, no, that was just a glitch in the sound system.”
But then we both heard it again, and this time it was clear enough to make out the whole sentence.
Please do not attempt to redeem the hedgehog!
“Okay, that was not a glitch in the sound system. You did hear that, Hal, please, Hal, tell me you heard that?!”
“Yeah, I heard that,” Hal said, with the same alarmingly deep-thinking expression.
“What hedgehog? I see no hedgehogs here.”
“No, I can’t see any either. I’m sure it’s just a staff announcement.”
And then, “Oh look, a summer dress! Just like you wanted—orange, with something that looks a bit like one of those elephants in the Picasso painting.”
Hal scanned the QR code on the label, and I heard an Oops.
I don’t like the sound of Oops.
Hal never says Oops.
He knows exactly how I react to those stupid Oops messages when I’m shopping.
Error 404 – Hedgehog Not Assigned.
“What hedgehog?! Are we then, or are we not supposed to…”
“There’s no hedgehog. No need for redemption either. Nothing’s been redeemed since the recall of the batch of psychic staplers that went rogue and caused global chaos.”
He turned the label to see if there was a bar code or something else to scan.
It said,
Please leave the hedgehog alone.
The hedgehog is not your responsibility.
And then, the voice on the announcement system again. Quiet. Only just audible:
If you believe you have seen the hedgehog, please report to Aisle Twelve and ask for Ja…Ja… Ja… net-net-net-net-net…
At that moment, the sound system went completely out of control. First, it sounded like someone was tuning an old radio. Then came the screeching, so loud that even Hal covered his ears, though his ears are mostly just there for aesthetic authenticity.
And then,
Congratulations. Your hedgehog query has been escalated.
➡️ Next Chapter
