Son of Sedonia

30

Flavors


SURROUNDED BY THESE people, Matteo never felt more alone. But at least alone could be safe for now. Time enough to try and absorb the sensory overload. Up close, the City moved differently. In the shadow of giants, the Sedonia citizens and their world had real color and texture. Lights of juicy bronze, aqua, red, gold, and emerald danced everywhere, transforming the buildings into collages of colored animation. People in the street walked past wearing intricate circuit-like patterns all over their clothes. Some glowed slightly, pulsing to the rhythm of their heartbeats. So much power, they wear it... He thought of all the cold nights when he couldn’t afford fuel for his tin lantern. Most people in the crowd were so distracted with their weird hand gestures that they didn’t notice the puddles and trash they walked through.

Tints of the smells wafting through the air were familiar, but rotated into things entirely new to his nose. Freshly baked bread mixed with a bite of something salty-sweet. A slightly fishy smell tinged with a distant cousin of Utu’s garden spinach. A pale, spikey-haired couple passed him holding skewers of something that smelled like pork. Where the hell did you get that? He picked up the pace in the direction from which they’d come.

At the end of the bridge, a block of neon storefronts hugged the base of a massive, tiered neighborhood of buildings. The pulsing beats of several stereo systems overlapped. Matteo felt like every step took him out of one song and into another. He saw more people holding skewers. They were centered around a semi-circular counter that jutted out in neon yellow from the wall. A gigantic cartoon pig ran, did backflips, and faced the crowd over and over above the counter. Going near it was out of the question.

“It’s kinda over-cooked this time; must have the B team on the grill tonight,” a voice said as it walked by him. A milk-faced teenager ran fingers through a fountain of hair and tossed a full skewer into a round can on the street. Matteo pounced, reached into the can, and pulled out the meal. He sank his teeth in and tore at the juicy, brown flesh, swallowing chunks before they were fully chewed. His eyes teared as they rolled back into his skull.

Digging into the last morsel, the rest of his senses trickled back to him. The crowd kept its distance. A group of exotic, mouse-like girls crinkled their noses at him through their multi-colored hair. Shame-faced, he stuffed the last bite in his mouth.

A hard knock to the shoulder almost sent it flying back out. He whirled, ready to fight, but froze when he saw her.

“Ah shit, sorry!” said the voice from behind a flowing mass of red curls. She stooped to fix her shoe that had popped off in the impact.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry,” she said as she stood up and brushed her hair out of her face. Cute, pursed features with sharp, green eyes and pouting lips. Matteo had turned into a wide-eyed statue with a lump in his cheek. She snorted a laugh and started jogging.

“Have a good one, buddy. Don’t choke!” she called back to him. Matteo swallowed, tossed the skewer, and walked after her. The smells of food faded, giving way to the familiar cocktail of cigarettes, alcohol, and vomit. Lines formed around corners to get into structures clothed in other-worldly displays of light and color. In glimpses, Matteo saw the redhead break from traffic, skip to the front of one of the lines, and slip past a door-man about the size of Oki. The Sing—u...Sing-u-lar... ‘Singularity.’ The name of the place hummed over him in brilliant, aquamarine script.

He wiped his mouth, cracked his neck, and shimmied through the crowd to the door. Stopped dead in his tracks. The hotdog-sized fingertips of the doorman’s giant paw jabbed into Matteo’s chest, holding him there.

“Uh-uh, chief. End of the line’s back there.” He pointed down the block over about a hundred heads. Matteo looked down the line, hesitated.

“O-kay...” said the doorman as he leaned into Matteo, pushed him aside, and beckoned the next person in line. Matteo noted the looks he was getting, hung his head, and walked down the row of psychedelic bodies in search of the end. Anger chewed at him the whole time. Clever, manly things to say to the doorman materialized in his head by the dozens, but nothing cleared the shame of just taking it and walking away. ‘Don’t ever f*cking touch me.” “No way, ‘chief,’ the end is right HERE!”

Once The Singularity was nowhere in sight, he found the end of the line. People clumped together in groups, talking with one another in familiar words and sounds, but in patterns he didn’t understand.

“Yeah, I was blurred the f*ck beyond focus at that spot! Utterly blurry.”

“I’m not texting him back after that shit-show...”

“Oh, tag me when you check in! Besties!”

All the while, they flitted and swept their hands through the air at the same imaginary shapes. Every time the line inched forward his legs begged him to just walk on and leave. His eyes wandered. The wall to the right was embellished with small blocks that stuck out, forming a kind of overall wave pattern. The ends of each block pulsed with bits of a giant video feed. He reached out and touched one. Sturdy. Looking up, the wall of blocks stopped some fifteen feet above to a ledge. He glanced back at the oblivious club kids and grinned. Good thing I’m invisible.

It felt good to climb. Hand over hand, he scaled the wall in seconds and crouched into the recess at the top. He crept along the edge above the queue until he reached a gap. The roof ledge ahead would take a bit of a jump to reach, but easier if he used the sign that stuck out just underneath. Matteo leaped toward the sign, planted his right foot, and then launched himself toward the ledge. Climbed up and over.

A battery of angled vent shafts lined the short roof of the club. He’d hoped for a door, but one of them would do. Matteo popped the slatted covering on one and lowered himself inside. After a minute of squeezing through the cramped shaft, he hit a drop-off in the path. Looked down. Women’s voices drifted up to him, laughing, shouting, and squealing above the thumping bass. He grinned, carefully removed the vent cover, and lowered himself down.

He landed in a tiny, dark room with a black door ahead of him. A dim, blue light filled the space from glass tiles in the floor, and dainty, clicking footsteps approached outside the door, followed by a rapid knock-knock-knock-knock. Before he could say anything, the door opened.

“Oh my god, you sleaze!” The pointed claws of a skinny, rope-haired girl grabbed him by the collar and yanked him out. Wide-eyed, he found himself surrounded by a pack of shrieking women. In a circular room of curved mirrors and shock-white lights, they shielded themselves from his gawking eyes. Gorgeous women of all shapes and sizes, dressed in clothes that shrink-wrapped their bodies in electric colors.

“Get out! Get the f*ck out, perv!”

“Are you serious with this shit?! Somebody go get Trey!”

“Haha! Hey, wait! He’s kinda cute!” Against the several pairs of hands shoving him toward the exit, Matteo turned and smiled wide. The door caught him in the face and swung hard open, spilling him onto the cold glass floor outside. A couple of passers-by jumped aside to dodge him.

“Sorry! Sorry, sorry, sorry!” He said, coughing. The strangers seemed to understand, if not appreciate it that much. They continued on their way down the black hallway, walking the path of the same glowing tiles. The floor, walls, and air hummed with a throbbing current of music. I’m in! He excused himself from the screaming ladies behind him and followed the others.

The hall opened up into a gigantic, perfectly circular chamber with the same black walls and indigo-lit floor. Silhouetted bodies danced in dramatic, curving sweeps and primal rhythms on the largest segment of the floor rings. People in wall-set booths crowded around tables of exotic drinks. And along the perimeter were the bars. Towers of neon bottles loomed behind each of the curved counters. Matteo licked his dry lips.

It took some doing to get anywhere close to the bar through the layers of people, but he finally found a hole. Leaning forward and waving seemed to work for the others. He pushed in and raised his hand higher than everyone else. A familiar laugh answered him.

“And you, sir! What is your question?” In the twilight of the room, Matteo made out a head of curly hair and a familiar, arresting face. His stomach flipped.

“You...can put your hand down now,” she laughed. Matteo obeyed. She sank a scoop into the ice bin and spread her hands on the bar. Cocked her head at Matteo.

“Do you...have an order open or something? ‘Cause if we didn’t get it, you didn’t send it. Probably gotta reboot.” She tapped a shiny red fingernail on her temple. Matteo raised a hand and mimicked her, tapping twice on the side of his head.

“Ummm...gotta hold it down, bud.” She raised a perfect, thin eyebrow at him. He bunched two fingers together. Pushed hard. A beep sounded in his inner ear, making him jump. Then a patch on his forearm vibrated under the bruise. ‘A System shutdown occurred to prevent damage to your RFID Platform. Continue reboot?’ The message in his mind was clear and crisp. Umm...’Yes?’ He answered in thought. A gold square flickered to life on his arm.

“Whoa! Well hello, your majesty,” the redhead said with a mocking bow, “Good of you to come down from your ivory tower to hang out with us Low Folk.”

“What’s that supposed to mea—,” the entire room around Matteo brightened and somehow seemed to bend, squeezing in on itself. BoooooooOOOOOOP! The black walls of the club came alive in twisting, imploding patterns of bright gold and jade. Vibrant blooms of mathematical shapes moved in perfect time with the music, cascading over the ceiling and floor toward the DJ booth, then rushing back out as the beat changed. The floor tiles seemed to react on the dance floor to the feet of each person in the crowd. Chills prickled up through Matteo’s fingers and toes, up his arms and legs, and into his core. He parted his lips in a breathless gasp.

“Working now, I take it? Your Goldi-box software’s probably a few versions ahead of this place. Try ordering again,” said the redhead. Matteo rubbed his eyes, shook his head, and turned back to her. A floating band of light had appeared in the center of his vision. Focusing on it, he made out a string of words. ‘Update Available! Do you want to proceed? Yes. No.’ He reached for the lights and touched ‘Yes,’ feeling a slight vibration in his finger. Another rush of blinding brightness later, and interface appeared everywhere. Everywhere. The meaningless gestures of the others around him suddenly made sense as he saw them interacting with hovering screens that flitted back and forth, up and down, in and out. Information about each of them poured out in front of Matteo. Their names, interests, social status... ‘Relationship Status?’

Next to him at the bar, a woman drank blue, smoking liquid from a fragile, long-stemmed glass. As Matteo focused on the drink, a highlight appeared around it and summoned a block of information in his periphery. Something called a ‘Blue Motherf*cker.’ A button reading ‘Buy’ appeared underneath the profile. He laughed, shrugged, and tapped it.

“Really?” The bartender smirked. Matteo nodded. “Coming right up.” Moments later, she returned with the drink, spilling the strange smoke on the bar.

“One BMF for his Highness,” she said.

“That’s not my name,” Matteo said, gently taking the drink from her. “It’s Mat—It’s... Aden. My name is Aden.” Alien as it was, the sound coming out of his mouth seemed to click into place somewhere deep inside him. She offered him her hand.

“I’m Liani,” she said with a wicked smile. Her silky fingers wrapped around his weathered palm. Heart racing, he released her hand. Raised the drink to his lips. The cool, tart sweetness hit his jaw first, followed by a slight burn. He felt it warm his insides as it traveled down his throat and splashed in his stomach. The glass was empty in seconds. A horrible pounding vice-grip squeezed his temples. He winced. Liani threw her head back and laughed hysterically.

“You know what, kid, you’re alright! Careful with that brain freeze, though, you’ll blow a fuse. Another?”

“Hell—,” he coughed, “Hell yeah!”