GOD SAVE THE ESTEEM
Ep 5: And The Mall Won

Just twelve years ago, it had been a shining dream: the Mall of the Millennium, third largest shopping centre in the world, a Byzantine and crass monument to capitalism in all its terrible glory.

The recession had not been kind. A third of the shops were boarded-up and the rest clung to grim life by their fingertips. The scant shoppers could smell the desperation. Jake had been in full punk gear and still the businessman clothing store (Suits You!) had sent staff to ask him if he'd ever thought of owning a tie, because they had a HALF PRICE SALE!!! on.

Communists must flock there to masturbate.

He eventually found Food Court A in Area D, Section Forest, at the top floor. A dozen or so desperate shop owners were waiting for him as he turned up, hunger in their eyes.

"Sorry I'm..." He checked his watch, gulped, and just said "...late, everyone! Boy, that map's a doooooozy! Anyway, let's get things into gear, have the meeting at Curry By Murray – spicy food for manly man, yeah! (And, er, womanly woman? I dunno)"

The shop owners followed him in, not daring to speak. He was getting worried about that. Maybe he should have chosen a shirt that had less swearing on it?

"So... just to summarise-"

"OH GOD WE NEED SALES HELP US PLEASE OH GOD!!!" screamed one man.

"Well, you came to the right geezer, man. Morgendorffer Consulting knows just how to get businesses to be on the edge, to bring in the wild crowd!"

"I sell make-up," said one confused woman. "I don't think I can make that edgy."

"But I can," said Jake, hoping he could. "Now: let's rap..."

---

Economics class was the most intellectually stimulating class Daria had. Every mental faculty she had was brought to bear so she could work out what the hell Mrs Bennett's diagrams meant.

"In economics, we call this flow," said Bennett as she scribbled a mutant squid onto the blackboard. "We have a scenario of supply and demand, where a new demand is created by a previous supply. Does everyone follow?"

There was a pause.

"No?" offered Tom.

She ignored him. "Can anyone give me a concrete representation of this abstract theory?"

"No!" said Kevin proudly, missing the point of Tom's remark.

"The mall is a good example," said Bennett. "It's a very beautiful illustration of all these economic principles. In fact, it would make for an excellent field trip!"

"All right! Field trip!" Kevin paused, then turned to Daria. "Where are we going?"

"The field."

"Cool!"

"The Mall of the Millennium is a perfect emblem of the modern economic environment and would make for an interesting trip," continued the teacher, ignoring the discord around her. "We'll be going there on Friday-"

"Isn't the Mall of the Millennium in dire financial straits and thus more of an example of how those principles don't work?" asked Daria.

"It's... having difficulties, but the educational possibilities-"

"And isn't it strange that we'd go there instead of the much nearer local mall?"

"Are you implying that this school has been bribed in some way to take this trip, Daria?"

"Yes."

"Everyone, we'll need your parent's permission to go on the trip-"

"I'll take that was a 'yes Daria'."

"Chalk doesn't get dug out of the ground, Ms Morgendorffer!!"

There was a brief, embarrassed pause.

"Don't worry Ms Bennett, most of the class didn't catch it," said Tom.

----

Erin Chambers was a very, very, very upbeat and perky woman, which made her a natural at Sales (especially if the sales were being made to male clients of a certain age). The management at Landon Enterprises plc loved her; the rest of Sales watched with fixed grins in the hope she'd trip up.

Now, wonder of wonders, Andrew Landon himself had called her into his office omg squee!

"Miss Chambers!" he said, shaking her hand with enthusiasm. "We meet at last!"

"H-h-h-h-hiiii, sir," she whispered.

"Oh please, call me Andrew. I've been hearing good things about you, Miss Chambers, very good things. You may be what I'm looking for. You see, we want to sell some of our products to the Mall of the Millennium – you've heard of it?"

"That's the one with no money, right s- Andrew?"

"That's right, they're desperate right now. And that makes them perfect! That's a hundred shops who'll pay out the nose for products they think will save them money!" He laughed out loud at the thought. "Normally we'd call them, but direct sales will be more effective, dazzle the poor schlubs. I'd like you to head down there on Friday..."

---

"...and that's the plan!" said Jake, reaching the end of the laptop's PowerPoint presentation. "Any questions?"

"Isn't this going to cause legal problems?"

"Almost certainly!" he said cheerily. "But hey, screw the man, right?!" Noting he was the only person punching the air at that point, he sighed and said: "My wife at Morgendorffer Legal will look into the legal issues and provide defence if required..."

The shop owners readily agreed it was required.

"Brutal! I tell you, this Friday the Mall is really gonna see something!"

------

Quinn's gang had all gathered outside the school, all ready to leave it far behind and head out to the Mall of the Millennium. Her plan was brilliant: they would get into cars and go there, as opposed to walking into the school.

There was one tiny problem: only two people in the gang could drive. And there were eleven of them. Someone would have to squeeze their sixth body into a car meant for five people and that would lead to arguing, discontent, face punching, etc. No, it just wasn't on. They needed a third car.

And that was how Jamie White, arriving to school on his first day of a provisional learner's licence, got cornered by Quinn before he could exit the car.

"You will ****ing drive me and some others where we want to go, or I'll t*** you one."

He stared up at the vision of loveliness (and leather) and whispered happily "Okay".

Fashion Club, eat your heart out, thought Quinn.

---

"...it was such a good idea of yours, El-see," said Sandi, with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Taking advantage of the plummeting prices in clothes and make-up at the Mall of the Millennium, I wish I could have ideas like that – gee, you guys should impeach me and make her the Fashion Club President!"

"Oh it'd be a shame to lose you but if you insist."

Sandi took a brief, terrified second at the malignant look in Elsie's eyes and, just a bit too late, laughed. "Funny! You're such a great kidder, El-see!"

"You were both kidding?" asked Stacy, confused.

"Oh yeah, Sandi was," said Elsie.

Not for the first time, Sandi considered that she'd made a severe tactical error in getting Elsie to join the Club. With her family's wealth, reduced as it was, she could clean up the clothes aisles, and her status as a Sloane immediately put them on the social map. Unfortunately, Elsie Sloane was the type of girl who knew the Vice President was meant to take over if something bad happened to the President and was always going to be prepared for bad things. And, sometimes, might cause them.

"Anyway, let us depart before Security spots us." She turned to the one guy around, the one they'd found with a car. The one called... guy? "We shall be departing now."

---

"Seventy eight bottles of beer on the wall, seventy eight bottles of beer! If one of those bottles should happen to fall, seventy-seven bottles of..."

When Daria had gotten on the school bus, she'd snarked that maybe they could sing 99 Bottles to pass the time. This was the first time she'd ever heard someone really do it. And hopefully, it would be the last.

"Babe? That's a really cute song and all, but do you think you could stop for a while?" Brittany hadn't said 'or I'll kill you' but everyone but Kevin heard it anyway.

"Sorry, babe," said Kevin, who wasn't. "We always sing that song on the team bus. It makes us fierce!"

"You're not on the team bus now. I'm not your teammate. I'm your girlfriend! We talked about the difference, remember?"

"He's going to sing again anyway, isn't he?" muttered Daria.

"Nah, he'll hum," said Jane. "Really loudly. I've been on these trips before, you can never stop him humming without taking drastic action."

"You've brought a knife then?"

Soon enough, Brittany distracted Kevin by making out with him. Noisily. Right in earshot of Mack and his girlfriend Angie.

"Sorry Ms Parks, but I want to sit at the back of the bus," said Mack.

Angie frowned. "There's something bad about the back?"

The boy blinked, prepared to speak, then visibly gave up. "At least she stopped him singing."

Hmmm-hmmm-hmmhmmhmm-HMMMM-hmm-hmmm...

That had briefly amused Daria, but soon she began to have nausea creep over her. She might have been able to bear it except Upchuck came over, trailing a long pretend-it's-mink purple scarf behind him and smelling of desperation.

"Ladies!" he perved, tipping his shades down in an attempt to seem flirty. "I have to acquire some bikinis for... business matters, aheheh, and I need a couple of models. The two of you are about Tania's size! What do you say, girls?"

Jane thought this over. "You know, I can't think of an appropriately vicious comment. Over to you, Daria."

"I feel sick," muttered the girl.

"That's just disappointing."

"No, I really feel sick. Can someone open a window?"

Upchuck leered and went to do so, to display his virile masculinity. The window, of course, would not open, though he would be thankfully occupied for fifteen minutes trying to open it.

"I didn't know you got car sick," said Jane, looking concerned.

"I don't, usually. It's the fumes. It smells like... perfume, but why would oh god say nothing Jane."

Jane bent down to Daria's ear and whispered "Brittany must be working up a sweat."

"I know where you live, Lane. And it's somewhere flammable."

----

"They can't read my po-oh-ka faaace!" sang Erin, the wind in her hair and the radio in her ears and everything bright and happy and sunshiney, a beautiful car purring around her.

A company car, anyway. She couldn't borrow Brian's car, that'd be selfish of her. He might need it in the day to go... er...

WHERE DOES HE GO ALL DAY

Her mind instantly clamped down on the rebellious, angry thoughts (the Morgen-Thoughters, she called them) and tried to focus on the beautiful scenery. Unfortunately, the beautiful scenery had a fat biker with a "COCK & ROLL" jacket and the mother of all builders' cracks right in front of her.

She sure had been seeing a lot of... people like that on the way to the Mall. She wondered why.

---

The school bus arrived at the car park early. It was a titan of a car park, one so big and the ends so far away that it would logically need a tram to get you easily from there to the mall. And there was such a tram, but it had died from neglect years ago and was half-rusted. The bus was able to get near the front of the lot no problem.

Daria would've noticed a number of scrappy looking cars and bikes across the lot if she hadn't been struggling to keep her breakfast in the inside. She ran out of the bus, looking for a safe place to unload, and it was Tom Sloane's severe misfortune to walk over at that point to start a conversation.

After a while, he said "Hey, I needed new shoes anyway."

"Do you think they sell intestinal tracts here," she got out, before a second barrage was unleashed.

Tom put a consoling hand on her shoulder, helping steady her. "You okay now?"

"I'm on a field trip, so the answer would be no even without the puke."

"You should've held it until we'd gotten into the mall. You could've told your parents you were making a statement."

They both went quiet as they came to the realisation that Tom's hand was still on her shoulder. She stiffened slightly, and he gingerly removed it.

"Sorry."

"Um." Daria thought quickly to come up with another word. "Um," she settled for.

"Hey, look, there's a really fat guy in a bike arriving!" said Tom desperately. "Let's make sarcastic comments about his worth as a human being!"

She agreed readily and looked up, and saw Tom had undersold it. There were multiple fat guys on bikes. And, as they watched, two arriving cars spat out a collection of Goths and punks. The new arrivals eyed each other with mutual suspicion, then turned as one to eye the schoolkids with suspicion. (Some had bright colours) Brittany gave a nervous wave.

"Oh no," said Daria. "I... I wasn't paying much attention at dinner these last few days or, indeed, ever, but I think I remember Dad mentioning he had something going on at a mall on a Friday. And either this is it, or the dregs of society have finally risen up to destroy Western civilisation and they didn't think I was cool enough to invite. It could be either, really."

---

The Mall was flooded with punks, hippies, Goths, stoners, metalheads, nu-metallers, rockers, mods, alternatives, outlaw bikers, BDSM doms and subs, anarchists, gangstas, and two Orthodox Jews who were thought to have gone to the wrong place until one high-fived a nu-metaller and sung out Slipknot lyrics as a greeting. Posters had been stuck to walls and windows, advertising a Suck It Capitalism festival with live acts and sales at selected shops.

A make-up shop, all pink and light and glittery, was now being besieged by Goths and dommes, and a shop assistant had emerged to hastily paint black streaks over the pink.

Mrs Bennett had immediately gone into crisis mode, forcing the students together into a tight square with the larger boys on the outside. Everyone had a buddy to look out for them, and she marched up front while also trying to cover the rear.

"We need to get to area C, section Orange!! That area is secure! Follow me and do not stop for anything!!"

A pierced-everything anarchist walked past the class and roared "**** SCHOOL BRAINWASHING!!".

"And, it appears, normal washing," said Daria.

"I hate to say this," said Jane, "but this trip is on the verge of becoming interesting."

"A hippie and a stoner have just got into a fight over whose subculture is the biggest sell-out," said Tom, pointing them out.

"Not quite there. Needs something more..."

As the class rounded area Q, section Canary, they passed the Sound It Out music store, where a large crowd was gathering for a live performance. A live performance by...

"Hey. We're Mystik Spiral. And..." Trent spotted Jane's class, blinked. "Your whole class cut class to see us? Cool."

"Ah yep," said Jane. "There's something more."

"Okay, in honour of that, we're going to be leading with one of our older songs: Lawndale High Really Really Sucks. We thought about changing the name, but... y'know. Ahem. Condemned by the BELL! To stay in this HELL! ..."

------

Erin's brain had managed to place all the weird cars and bikes in the compartment marked Nothing To Do With Me, but once she'd entered the mall & could see the dark hordes it gave up and left her to face stark reality.

"Oh dear."

She glanced to her side and saw four pleasant-looking fashionable girls and one generic guy, all five looking terrified and checking each other to make sure nobody had noticed.

"Arrrrre we gooiiing anywheerrreeee thennn?" asked one girl.

"Of course, Tiffany dear!" snapped the lead girl. "Unless, of course, El-see is worried-"

"I'm not worried," lied El-see.

The leader looked a bit upset about that. "Okay then. Um. That idea of finding some hideously out of style nobody and making her look almost as good as us..."

"I think it's still a good idea! Don't you?!?!"

"Oh yes, no objections here!"

The girl with pigtails was about to cry. Erin knew how she felt.

Taking a deep breath (you've been around Mum and your aunts arguing, this is nothing), she headed towards the first shop on her list, determined to sell things. She was going to sell things. She wasn't scared of the big scary people all around here. She was going in the shop now.

Fifteen eyes belonging to eight huge bikers turned to watch her enter. The clerks of Bullock & Ina's China Shop looked at her desperately, as if hoping she was an undercover CIA agent.

"How would you like to save approximately 2.3% of your AC's power usage?" she said very very carefully.

---

To Daria's disappointment, the class made it to a conference room unmolested. Now they were being hovered over by very, very nervous executives, who were doing a live demonstration of how focus groups worked. (A cheque had exchanged hands with Bennett) Normally, this would have irked Daria but the sheer desperation of the executives to gain any information that could save their mall was hilarious.

She quietly began to plot ways to mess with them.

"And when you go to the mall, you look for what?" asked Exec One, making the mistake of asking Upchuck.

" Bikinis! Make that lovely, luscious, ladies in bikinis! Rrrrow!

"I always look for security guards leading away someone in handcuffs," said Jane. "Shoplifters are the best judges of merchandise."

"I concur with Jane," said Daria. "I haven't seen a single shoplifter in all my time here. I'm very concerned. Something must be wrong with the products if none of today's crowd want to steal it."

" I meant more along the line of the qualities you look for?" said Exec One with growing worry (images of looting had just ended up in his head, Daria betted). "The stores? What should they be like?"

" I have a question," snapped Jodie. "How much benefits and handouts do you give to your staff, exactly? Because I don't see why our tax money should be bailing out a store that wastes its money like that!"

"Oh yeah, Obama's trillion dollar bailout of malls was definitely a step too far," said Tom, deadpan. "But we should've seen it coming after the Pet Store Bailout Act."

"I thought Obama had a pet?" Brittany looked lost. "Can he really look after more than one?"

"How about you?" said Exec Two loudly, looking at Mohammed in the hopes he would be a safe target. "How many times a year do you go to the mall?"

"Sorry man, I stopped paying attention at the bikinis bit. Can you repeat that question?"

While the chat went on around her, Daria took a look at the large, not-suspicious-honest mirror in the corner. "I bet that's a two-way mirror."

"You mean, if you turn out the lights you can see through it?" asked Jane.

"I have a better idea." Daria turned to Kevin. "Hey, Kevin. If you moon a mirror, does that mean you can see your own butt?"

His eyes lit up. "Whoa, I dunno but I'm gonna find out!"

---

Bikini Island was going to safe. It sold fashionable clothes. The Great Unwashed would not dare go in there.

That, at least, had been the Fashion Club's plan. Unfortunately, Bikini Island was one of the contributors to Suck It Capitalism and once they were in, the press of incoming women made sure they could not get out. It was four of them ("guy" had been made to wait outside) surrounded on all sides by women that Sandi lacked the vocabulary to describe.

"How many cows did they kill?" whispered Stacy as she looked at their jackets.

"Don't... make... eye contact..." said Elsie, her every muscle tensed. "I hear this type view that as a challenge."

"I want to make a bitchy comment about their hair and make-up."

"Stay strong, Sandi."

"I'll be alright. As long as nothing too gauche goes past-"

It was at that moment that Andrea and Quinn emerged from behind a rack, both testing out bikinis with no concern for public modesty. Andrea was wearing a skimpy one. Andrea.

On instinct, Sandi said "urg, puh-lease get a larger size for, like, the sake of oth-ers".

Quinn and Andrea turned their heads. So did every other woman in the shop.

"Iiiii'm scaaaarrrred."

---

"...and in light of all that, don't you consider that this mall indicates that Marx was right and communism is truly inevitable in our society?" asked Daria.

Exec Three burst into tears.

---

Things were going badly for Erin. No, not badly: just difficult. She had to stay focused and positive. She could do it.

It was the Fuzzy-Wuzzy Wee-Bits store next. That would be safe. You always knew a Wee-Bit was nice and wholesome. She'd be safe there.

A punk from out of Aunt Helen's wet- Helen's day dreams and a stoner who had not bathed since the Civil War exited the Wee-Bit store, their arms loaded with product. The punk was saying "my ma LOVES these things!".

Oh dear, thought Erin.

Her legs, sensing no safe zone anywhere, locked up out of sheer fright. Around her, huge men and woman in ripped and filthy clothes pushed past, a Goth headbutted someone for calling him an emo, a Hell's Angel and a Crip wannabe eyed each other for signs of trouble, and someone vomited on a window to cheers from his fellows. In the circumstance, Erin decided it would be sensible to pretend she was invisible and hope everyone else would play along.

There was an unholy screaming as the girls and guy from earlier ran past her, looking like all the hounds of hell were after them. A few seconds behind them came Quinn and some friends she'd made, which would explain why.

"LET'S ****ING HAVE THEM oh hey cousin Erin FIRST DIBS ON THEIR WALLETS"

Erin remained ramrod straight, even as a group of hoodie-wearing men with pierced eyes came towards her. When they got close enough for her to read the small type on their nu-metal band logos, her brain hurriedly rebooted itself in the hope of some adequate response.

"Do you ever have problems vacuuming those cracks in the corner than the nozzle just can't reach?"

The gang stopped and huddled together. After a few seconds muttering, the lead male agreed that they did indeed have that problem.

"Well, your friends at Landon Enterprises have just the gadget for you...!"

---

The executives had finally thrown the class out, which left them with a dilemma: Bennett would have paired them off to do assignments, but with the mall overrun she didn't want to let anyone out of her sight. Not when the anarchists and the rockers were eyeing each other with "wanna start something" eyes, just across the floor.

"We... We'll make our way to the food court," she said, noticing a clear path to an escalator. "We will stay there until it's safe. No one child gets left behind."

"I think the sensible and mature thing to do here is to sneak off," Tom said to Daria and Jane.

"Good plan," replied Jane. "I wonder what song Trent's up to now?"

---

"OW!" yelled Mystik Spiral, and then ceased playing.

"MY NOSE!" roared back the crowd.

"OW!"

"MY FACE!"

Jane watched them, smiling proudly. "They've learnt how to play their instruments. Your father's consulting made them learn how to play."

"Speaking of my family, is that Quinn in the front row dancing really suggestively in the hope Trent pays attention? Why yes, it is. Shall we go over and embarrass her by being square?"

They did so. Quinn, engrossed by Trent's presence, didn't notice them until it was too late and was quite mortified when she saw them.

"Gawd, Daria, why do you and Tom have to... have to ruin things for everyone by turning up looking like that!"

"At least you asked me that at a counter-culture gig this time, rather than my own birthday party."

"Is there something you want?"

Daria grinned evilly and hugged her. "I love my sister!"

"Dah-ree-ah! The rockers are going to think I'm wussy!!!"

"You know, if that was my sister, I'd blackmail her by threatening to tell our parents that she was skipping school," said Tom.

"I'd never do that," said Daria, still hugging away. "They'd be proud of her."

---

Jane decided to hang with Trent for a while, enjoying his new somewhat-talent. This left Daria and Tom to wander on their own, and come across the eternal statue of Erin. They could see people leaving it, carrying products and order brochures. One burly biker was holding a foldable notepad holder ((C) and TM Landon Enterprises), cheering "I dunno what this is but I bet I can hit someone really hard with it!".

Daria, ashamed of her pang of conscience, went over to her cousin. "Erin?"

"Hello Daria," her cousin said, a fixed smile on her face. "It's rather embarrassing but I don't think I can move. Too many... customers around."

"I think you need to go to the food court and get some good, unhealthy junk food into you."

"They have scary hair, Daria."

"Don't worry. If anything happens, Tom will save us. He's a male."

Tom flexed his arms. "Booya."

"Oh. That's... that's good. I could do with some food, I guess..."

Gently, she led Erin up the stairs and to the sanctuary of McDonalds, where no counterculture type would dare trade (except for the stoners who were desperate by this point).

---

Stacy had been separated from the others but her instincts for fashion saved her. She'd immediately found her way to Scissor Wizard. They had hair-dye and could style things. Then, with speed that would've stunned the track team, she reached the make-up shop and then managed to pick up a denim punk jacket that had been mislaid. It wasn't much of a disguise, but with luck it'd help her get through the day.

She turned the corner and ran into Quinn, who cried out "bitching hair! What's your name?"

"Stacy – er, I mean-"

"Cool name! Hey, hang with us, we're going to go throw things at that dude over there!"

Stacy remembered something about frying pans and fires.

---

Erin ate her hamburger like it came from Jesus Himself, with a sprinkling of Mohammed's own secret sauce to go with the Buddha lettuce.

"This is a bad time to say how burgers are made, isn't it?" asked Daria.

"If you get me back to my car, I'll do anything in return!"

"Well, a ride home would be great. Tom and I really aren't in the mood to take the bus back, and Jane... Is Jane hitching a ride back with Trent?"

"Risky," said Tom. "Trent will need to remember he drove here."

---

Jane, when they found her, was busy selling fake tattoos and face painting to the mall's customers, right out of a very grateful State Of The Art arts 'n' crafts shop. She'd told them she was happy enough and, having slipped Red Bull to Trent without him knowing, was interested in seeing how long he'd play for. That meant they could leave her behind and head the hell back to Lawndale without any guilt.

As Erin drove away as fast as she could, Daria noted to Tom: "And you know, those shops involved in Suck It Capitalism really were booming. And some of the others-"

"Except that one with the broken windows. Er, one of the ones."

"It turns out supply and demand does work, though I'm not sure any of them knew what it was they were demanding. Maybe the chance to look cool and outlaw in front of others, though if that was it they shouldn't have been buying Wee-Bits. Except the dinosaur Wee-Bits. Those guys keep it old-school."

Erin, as she often did when Daria was using odd words, tuned the talk out. The important thing, after all, was that she'd got away safely and had somehow made a whole bunch of sales. And her cousin had helped her out, which was nice.

She'd have to tell Mum and Grandma that. Grandma always was asking about Daria for some reason.

---

It was approaching midnight and the mall could not close because Trent was still playing. Jane had run out of paint, ink, and crayon over an hour ago, and was now using leftover food – some of the BDSM crowd had started some dodgy games up thanks to that.

"Hey, I've got some French fries left over!" she called to Quinn and Stacy. "Five for five cents!"

"If we stick that in our hair, Trent'll think we're really counter-culture!" squeed Quinn. "Come on, Stacy!"

"I... I'm okay, thanks," she whispered, coming to the conclusion she was never going home.

To the side, some anarchists were discussing how this sort of gathering was raising a finger to the capitalist system, but they couldn't be heard over the Sound It Out manager yelling "WE HAVE HOW MUCH MONEY OH THANK YOU GOD AHAHAAHA!!!".


THE END

AUTHOR'S NOTES: By time of writing these notes, this fic has been nominated for a bunch of stuff on the 2010 Daria Fanworks Awards. This makes me happy.