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"It's cold out here." The girl rolls her shoulders and lightly stamps a foot.
"A little cold."
"Then again, it was cold in the safehouse too."
Alternative wording
"About what the world deserves, right, Hersh?" You hear the attempted smile in her voice.
She switches her portable keyboard to her other shoulder and gazes across the black glass of seawater.
Around you, night drags the day out of sight.
Suspended above, satellites blink slowly, as if on the edge of sleep.
"This boat's not going to the Eastern Republics, is it?"
"It's going to Luz."
"I thought so."
Branch
"You got some glitter on your face." (Don't wipe it.)
"No. No I don't", she says firmly, grinding the tears back down.
The girl lifts her head and stares across the breaking waves.
"Why are you doing this to me?"
Branch
"Because this is what I do, I let people down."
"Then it must be so sad being you, Hershel."
On the other side of the pier, two figures approach from the dimness.
"Then it must be so sad being you, Hershel."The first time she's reckoned with another person turning against her. The real her."So I'm just a commodity to you. Like I am to everyone else."The words are firm, despite the gentle trembling that's overtaken her."I'm good." The girl offers you a small thumbs-up with a steady hand."Yana said you wouldn't." She nods, mostly to herself.
The old man's eyes flit between you and the girl. He appears more frail than his voice made him sound.
Branch
"Hersh... Are you sure this is safe...?"
KALEIDOSCOPE stares at Ultra Violeta like he can't look away.
Branch
"That's the man who'll be taking you over. He won't let anything happen to you."
"He's looking at me very strangely..."
"It's fine, I've vetted him."
"Oh, okay. Thanks, Hersh."
Branch
"I wish you weren't wearing that, by the way." She nods at your t-shirt.
"Just making sure you remember what you're leaving behind."
"Don't worry, I remember. And I'm more sure than ever."
"Please say a proper goodbye to Yana for me. Before we left I asked her if she maybe wanted to come with me... but she just looked away."
"I'll miss her, but we'll keep in touch, definitely."
"Definitely."
"Thank you." She looks around her. "I wish... I wish she was here, actually..."
Strange that she's not, now that she thinks about it.
"Goodbye, Hersh. I'll remember you."
She's looking at you. Don't look back. Unsuturable wound.
Look at her.
She smiles at you and nods once. The wind has tousled her hair out of its usual pristine state. She lifts a hand and smooths a loose tress out of her eye.
The twinge of pain is familiar, almost nostalgic. That one's going to leave a mark.
Another drop of phantom blood in the clear waters of your soul.
"Go."
The girl walks forward, keyboard swaying on her back, as the old man on the opposite side of the pier shuffles towards her.
As a star is dragged into a black hole, it emits periodic bursts of light that scientists liken to dying screams.
Suddenly she stops and looks back at you, her face frozen in a mask.
All serenity liquidated. Animal terror.
"What's Minister Reyes doing here?"
Spines of ice bloom across your ribcage.
WHAT WILL YOU SAY TO THAT CRUEL ANGEL --
"Minister Reyes? The Grand Lich? Where?"
"Hersh... what is happening..."
She points a finger at the old man shuffling towards you.
Look at the man.
A small, hunched man, maybe seventy years old. He stares straight back at you.
Branch
-- WHO WAITS FOR YOU --
"That's not the Lich, that's just some old prisoner..."
"No, that's him. That's him..."
The auditorium gasps as one. Beyond curtain and cloak snickers the conjuror.
It can't be... is it?
Branch
-- WHEN THEY ASK WHAT YOU'VE DONE --
"Is this all a dream? Am I dreaming?"
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-- WITH YOUR HEART?
The old man keeps his eyes on you as he walks forward.
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"This is in motion. You need to go, V. Now."
"Please don't call me that..."
"Keep walking."
"I am, I'm walking... I don't understand any of this..."
Don't look at her.
You feel her gaze on your for a few long seconds, then you feel it leave.
So very alone.
"It'll be better if you don't."
"Why?"
"Because sooner or later it'll fade to nothing. And that just hurts more."
"Yeah, you're probably right. Staying in touch is hard."
"Because you were never really friends."
"Maybe Yana didn't think so. But I..." She shakes her head lightly. "I suppose it's true. The moment they put your face on the side of buildings, you never make another real friend in your life."
"When it's safe."
"When it's safe", she repeats with a dutiful nod.
"Sorry, kind of forgot I had it on."
"I suppose it doesn't make a difference now. One last glance before I leave her behind."
"Don't worry, he's a huge fan."
"Oh, I see... One of those..." She looks slightly more worried than she did before.
"Don't sit too close to him on the boat, is my advice."
"Okay, good to know." She shifts uncomfortably.
"Go to that man, he'll take you from here."
"Sounds like you've got it all figured out." The girl looks over her left shoulder, past you, at the haze of sea beyond.
Branch
"That t-shirt you're wearing must be ironic."
"Sorry, kind of forgot I had it on..."
"Doesn't make a difference now."
As cold as you've ever felt her.
"Did Yana know about this?"
Spare her this knife, at least.
Slash these ties clean. It will make it easier to not look back.
"Yes."
"I suppose it's true. The moment they put your face on the side of buildings, you never make another real friend in your life."
"Goodbye, Hersh. When they send me up to space, I'll watch you down here. Running around in your sad little circles."
"My circles are happy and massive. Move it."
"Enjoy space. I hear you piss in bags."
"How cruel."
"Don't get a sour puss just because I uncovered you, Luzian spy."
"I'm not..." She shakes her head. "It doesn't matter."
"Can't even deny it anymore. Move."
"She didn't want to do it. I had to make her."
"You'll never see her again."
"It was her idea."
"Oh." She pauses as it sinks in. "What a waste."
"No." (Lie.)
"Good. That's good. Tell her I made it out."
"No, I'm genuinely a fan. Can't wait for you to go home and make a new album."
"It's all for you, Hershel. I'll make it just for you."
"Massively. Your music's shit."
"Thank you, Hershel. Your opinion means a lot to me."
"Walk."
"Yes, I get the idea." The girl looks over her left shoulder, past you, at the haze of sea beyond.
Branch
"Don't get shot, Hershel. That would be a real shame."
"Didn't bring a gun, Hershel? Seems very amateur of you."
"Because I don't know who's interests you really serve. I can't trust you."
"Why not? I haven't done anything to you. I've just tried to be nice to you..."
The first time she's reckoned with another person turning against her. The real her.
"Because I need information, and you're the asking price."
"So I'm just a commodity to you. Like I am to everyone else."
Alternative wording
"I told you before that most people wish they'd never met me. I wish I'd never met you."
"Because you belong back there."
"I don't have much left to give. I think they know it too."
"Then make it up as you go along."
"Never. That's what amateurs do."
The words are firm, despite the gentle trembling that's overtaken her.
"I thought that about me. But there's always something more."
"There's always something more they can take, yes. I'm talking about what I'm willing to give."
"I'm sorry."
"I don't think I believe you."
"You're a star, V. You belong up there, with the rest of them."
"You don't understand at all. Maybe you can't. Maybe that's my fault..."
"Back to your Luzian handlers. Assignment failed."
"You mean my management team? You're not making any sense."
"Of course it is."
The four words come easy, clean. Confident. You surprise yourself.
The girl stares at you and takes a moment to convince herself of your words.
"Okay. Then I trust you, Hersh."
"This is the only way we could do it. A little rough and ready, but you'll be alright."
"I'm good." The girl offers you a small thumbs-up with a steady hand.
"I won't let you down, V."
"Yana said you wouldn't." She nods, mostly to herself.
You know the lines, but when you reach for them, there's just an empty space where the words should be.
Say nothing.
Somewhere, another You has found them first and stolen them away.
"Oh. I didn't think so."
Tears tremble on the edges of her eyes.
Branch
Say nothing.
"It's okay, I get it."
"It's almost over."
"If you say so, Hersh."
Branch
"Ready to set course for the Eastern Republics, flight lieutenant." The girl gives you a 'V' salute and smiles.
Branch
"Looks like you're cheering me on." She nods at your t-shirt.
"Seemed fitting."
"Maybe, just for today." A smile, a genuine one.
"Thanks for this, Hersh. Really. You're one of the only people I've ever met who isn't trying to get something out of me."
The city was her chrysalis.
"Have a second shot at life on me."
"I won't let you down."
"I've had this stupid song stuck in my head all day." The girl's heel bounces in time with some secret rhythm.
"New one?"
"Old one."
"This is from when I was younger, so much younger. I used to go on these day trips with my parents and my father would play his tapes in the car."
"It was basic three-chord rock music, nothing like what I make now... but I've been thinking recently, maybe without those tapes... I wouldn't have become a musician."
A fundamental shift, form irrelevant: The difference between deafness and hearing, darkness and light.
"What's the song?"
"'Dark Flight 709'. About some guy's girl leaving on a space rocket."
"Did he go after her?"
"I think he just had to watch her disappear from down on earth."
"How's it go?"
"Twelve bar, in D I think, you know... D7, G7, all the 7s..." The girl closes her eyes and sings below her breath.
"Had a feeling we'd lose all our time... My baby's leaving on the 709..."
Even this fragment is strange and painful, like a dead leaf in midsummer.
A five-year-old girl in oversized sunglasses taps a tiny hand on her knee in perfect time with the backbeat -- emanating like a homily from the car speaker.
Let her finish.
"No point in trying to wonder, or picking up pace..."
"My baby said she needed some space..."
UNHEALTHY VOCAL VIBRATO. POPULIST.
"Lost her in my dreams, then I lost her to the 709."
"I don't know. It's silly, but it's right there for some reason."
"Be well, V."
"You too, Hersh."
She will sing of you in a secret song someday -- and you will hear it and never know it was meant for you.
Ultras, fly formation.
"See you further on up the flight path."
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End of this branch
"Keep it, there."
"Of course. Bye, Hersh."
"Good luck with your creative endeavours."
"Luck has zero to do with it, but thanks." The girl nods once and smiles. "Bye, Hersh."
"Remember -- 'renegade'. Not 'fugitive'."
"Full renegade." The girl nods once and smiles. "Bye, Hersh."
"Not bad."
"Thanks."
Her voice is pleasant, as ever, but it fails to grip anything within you.
"I have notes."
"Oh, yeah. Of course. This is just some lost standard."
Slightly self-conscious all of a sudden.
"Not familiar."
"Maybe that one didn't make it out of Luz..." The girl closes her eyes and sings below her breath.
"One of yours?"
"No, no, I hate listening back to my own stuff."
"One for the road?"
"Yeah, you could say that."
"It's more for Yana, but you're welcome."
"I'm glad, then. She needs a little grace from someone."
"Please write a very sad song about me in the future."
"A dedication, maybe, yes." She seems uncertain. "Either way..."
"Kind of forgot I was wearing this actually..."
"As long as you don't start fan-shifting." A smile, a genuine one.
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"You're doing a lot of coming and going, Hersh." She forces a smile at you.
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Branch 225Branch 238Branch 322Branch 347Branch 364Branch 385Branch 403Branch 549Branch 557Branch 581Branch 798Branch 833Branch 857Branch 866Branch 879Branch 928Branch 956Branch 964Branch 1110Branch 1171Branch 1187Branch 1304Branch 1311Branch 1406Branch 1437Branch 1517Branch 1542Branch 1575"So what are you doing here, Hersh?"
"Good news, V. Everything's sorted. You're finally getting out." (Lie.)
"... Really?" Her eyes grip yours.
Time to deck the cancer patient in a party hat and tell them not to worry about the future.
"I've got you, V -- always." (Make your 'Friend' face.)
"Wow, Hersh... you're like some... grubby angel. You came out of nowhere to save me."
You feel nothing. This is all part of the big comeback, baby.
"Please write a very sad song about me in the future."
"A dedication, maybe... yes." She seems uncertain.
"I won't forget this, Hersh."
"A dedication, maybe... yes." She seems uncertain."I don't think we collaborated as such... but sure. A pleasure.""Yes, sir." She salutes you with a quick hand. "Standing by.""Oh, thanks. Sorry. I was messing around with some make-up stuff... not a lot to do..." She laughs,…"I think it's something."
She won't. The knife will stay in her.
She has yet to notice it's already stuck in.
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'It's been a pleasure collab-ing with you."
"I don't think we collaborated as such... but sure. A pleasure."
"Get ready to move soon."
"Yes, sir." She salutes you with a quick hand. "Standing by."
"You got some glitter on your face." (Wipe it off.)
"Oh, thanks. Sorry. I was messing around with some make-up stuff... not a lot to do..." She laughs, embarrassed.
Your guts twist in new knots.
"Don't thank me. It's nothing."
"I think it's something."
"Yep. You're getting out."
"Wow, Hersh... it's like my world has colour again..."
"Yana really came through for you."
"I'm very lucky to have her. And you too, Hersh."
"I can try and get these exit papers for you."
"Oh, thanks, Hersh, I really appreciate it. You'll have to speak to Yana about the logistics though. I don't really get involved in all that."
The management's changed, but the artist's still on tour.
"You can do it. We believe in you."
Just because you can, does not mean you should. Your path to the Lich goes through this girl. Otherwise, it's the long way round.
You can. And you should.
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"You seem kind of blasé about this critical step."
"I can't leave here, Hersh." She shrugs. "Also, I'm not very good with logistics. People usually wait around on me."
One of the perks of being the top of the social hierarchy: time becomes a suggestion, not a reality.
"And now it feels like I'm waiting on the entire world. I don't even know if it's revolving anymore."
Branch
"Do you have a photograph of yourself?"
"No." She shrugs simply. "But there's pictures of me all over the place. Like, everywhere."
"You should be better prepared, V!"
"Tempo said he'd handle all this stuff. Said it was his 'special fucking move'. How am I supposed to do any of it? I'm hiding."
You have a picture of this girl in your pocket. The postcard.
"Tempo said he'd handle all this stuff. Said it was his 'special fucking move'. How am I supposed to do any…"I don't know what to tell you, Hersh. I usually just turn up for photoshoots and they have it all worked…"No need to get like that... I don't carry photos of myself around, the world is one big mirror to me. I see…
She's wearing pilot goggles!
Well, maybe she's a pilot now.
"I don't mean to be annoying, Hersh. Sorry. I just need some help. And I trust you to see me through."
For the first time -- just for the life and death of a second -- you see her as a fearful young girl, flinching at every movement outside the door.
A flower on the precipice.
"I'll take care of it."
"I really appreciate it."
Branch
"No promises."
"I don't need those. Just come through. Please."
"I almost feel sorry for you, then I remember your problematic techno-fascist past."
"I'm trying to outrun it, Hersh. Help me. I don't want to be that dress-up doll anymore."
With a deft hand, the obsessive's postcard of her would suffice.
It will need a very deft hand, she's dressed like a fighter pilot...
It seems yours is forced either way. If you want to get her out, that is.
"That's a bad thing, in the context of fake identity papers."
"I don't know what to tell you, Hersh. I usually just turn up for photoshoots and they have it all worked out."
"Wonderful, okay, I'll just go and grab that massive projected advert of you and we'll be set."
"No need to get like that... I don't carry photos of myself around, the world is one big mirror to me. I see enough of me."
"Any ideas on a new name?"
"I don't care about the name. I only really care about my new stage name. But that will come later."
The first tram ride into Portofiro, HOLOCENE at your side, face turned to the window, giving a twenty minute answer to one of the world's most common questions.
"... and that's why, philosophically, I disowned my name. A name can turn on you, CASCADE. Far better not to have one. Or to have many."
"I can't just call you HOLOCENE the whole time."
"Actually, I think you can."
"It's 'Joe', isn't it? The Remembrancers on the top level call you Joe'."
"A fabrication from the narcs upstairs. When I first joined the Opera I used an acute method of auto-hypnosis to forget my own name. The process took seven months."
The prospect twists your gut in terror.
"That's really bad. A name protects you somehow. From the world."
"If there is enchantment in the act of naming, then there must be an opposite, yet equally powerful enchantment in the act of un-naming."
"I will always choose scarce magic over the common spell."
The girl stares at you, waiting for a response.
"I had a friend with no name once. He was very odd."
Alternative wording
"I have a friend with no name. He continues to be very odd."
Alternative wording
"I had a friend with no name once. He's dead now."
"Oh. Cool. Maybe no name is the way to go. Very alternative."
Alternative wording
"I'm sorry to hear that. He sounded cool. Very alternative."
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"I can make up a name for you."
Alternative wording
"I can make up a name for you, partner."
Branch
"Okay, Hersh. I'll leave it to you."
Alternative wording
"Oh, you will? Okay... I think that's fine... Maybe see what Yana thinks too..."
Alternative wording
"Okay, Hersh. I trust you."
Branch
"But... how can you even exist without a name?"
"Exactly."
"I'd actually be very down for that kind of erasure, I generally hate myself."
"From what I've gleaned of your attention span, CASCADE, block off sixteen months minimum."
"Okay, forget it."
"Already forgotten. But not really."
Not now, HOLOCENE.
You set fire to the memory. A steady, controlled burn.
"Something generic will work. Tell them I'm not fussy."
"What's another name?"
"I'll tell them to put any old thing down."
"I can make one up for you."
Alternative wording
"I can make one up for you, partner."
"I'll see what I can do about these papers." (Conclude.)
"Great, Hersh." The popstar gives you an encouraging nod. "I'm sure you'll find them."
Branch
"So, V, say you had to go home... what would you do?"
"I'm not going. Ever."
"I know, V, I know. But say you had to. Is it a suicide-in-captivity deal?"
"No, I wouldn't kill myself. They'd probably pay some hack to write knock-off songs and recreate me as a hologram."
"Why are you asking me this, Hersh?"
"Because I think you might be making a big mistake."
"I don't think so. I don't think you know me at all."
"I had something good before, something real. Then I left when I should've stayed."
"What happened?"
Branch
"I let a lot of people down by leaving."
"I'm sorry you feel that way. Or they feel that way."
"We're totally different people, Hersh. Clasping totally different comet tails."
Not too different. You both sculpt the world -- one from the dark, the other in the light.
"I'm telling you -- you're playing this all wrong, V."
"I'm not playing anything, or anyone. I'm just trying to be free..."
Hit her with that memorable chorus, lodge it in her head:
"In five years time, you'll do anything to get it all back."
The young popstar stares at you intensely.
"Did Yana put you up to this?"
They're turning on each other. Exploit it.
"We've talked a lot and she thinks it's for the best, too."
"Does she? I thought Yana understood me, at least... Even just a little..."
"Look, I hear what you're saying...but I don't feel it." She shakes her head slightly and looks unsure. "I can't feel it."
Branch
"No, this is me."
"There's something unsettling about you, Hersh. Something scary, even."
"Thanks."
"You're projecting."
Say nothing.
"She wants me gone, I know it. I can't even blame her. I think I really messed up her life."
"I don't think we are, actually."
"Then what are you trying to tell me?"
"The world took us apart, like it always does."
"I'm not afraid of the world. It can forget my name, if it wants."
"I played the professional operant and forgot the good thing ever existed."
"Until now, is that right?"
"I learned there's no geographical solution to an emotional problem."
"I haven't even tried the solution yet."
"Doesn't matter. Forget it." (Go back.)
"I already have."
Branch
"Your fugitive odds aren't looking too great."
"I'm living against the odds. Yana will come through for me. I'm certain."
She is less certain with every passing hour.
"Good for you. Keep up that positive mindset."
"It's just the truth, it's not a 'mindset'."
"Weird question, but... can you fly a plane?"
"Of course. Aeronautical service in the Imperial Navy is mandatory for all young Luzian adults. Even popstars."
Branch
"Wait, are you joking?"
"No", she says simply.
Branch
"I knew it. What did you fly?"
"The Rei-16 Ricochete. I asked them to paint it purple, but they refused."
Sixth generation Luzian fighter jet. Deployed in most of their 'Reunional Military Actions'. Serious rapid gear.
"So you could actually get called up if Luz goes to war?"
"Luz is always at war." She shrugs. "I don't think they'd put me on any kind of front line, I'd be targeted and killed immediately."
The purple plane wouldn't help.
"Afterwards, they made me the official Cultural Ambassador to the Imperial Navy. They paint my image on plane noses sometimes."
The last thing the peasant class of Saskia saw before the bombs in close-up -- Ultra Violeta's face winking at them from behind her trademark 'V' salute.
ULTRA VIOLATOR.
Branch
"Pretty demanding for an enlisted officer."
"I didn't like the black." She shrugs. "Anyway, it was just training, not like they actually sent me anywhere."
"How long were you in there for?"
"Three months out of six. My service was cut short. They said the GDP was being negatively affected." She glances away in frustration.
"I didn't even get to do any of the cool manoeuvres."
"Pretty lame. It's like you were barely even a pilot."
"I did break the speed of sound, at least."
"Okay, somewhat cool."
"It was very freeing up there. I think about that, sometimes -- in here, I can't even see the sky."
"You want to impress me, do a loop the loop."
"I didn't get that far. Someday, maybe. Then I'll be sure to fly right over you, Hersh."
SHE WILL BOMB YOU WHILE SHE'S AT IT. REGARDS FROM LA LUZ.
"Can you do a barrel roll?"
"Yes, that one wasn't too hard. But I really wanted to try a defensive spiral."
She's in one now.
"Just curious. Thanks." (Go back.)
She gives you a small salute.
Branch
"You were supposed to imprint on Yana, weren't you, V."
"How does she know about the plan?" She shoots Yana a dependent glance.
"'Cos Hersh is a communist spy."
"Oh." She turns back to you. "Cool."
Genuine. You've intrigued a famous person.
Branch
"V, why did you go in with Tempo on this?"
"Because Tempo said he'd get me far away, with proper exit papers and everything. It seemed like the best shot at getting out."
Raw deal, she thinks, but still a deal.
"Eastern Republics was the play -- very casual on their entry requirements. Best shot, like V said."
"So I took it. I trusted Tempo." She glances around the cramped, grubby room. "And now I'm stuck here."
"I'm sorry my wayward asset got you mixed up in all this."
"I'm right here, Hersh. Dickhead."
"No need to apologise. I wanted to get out and I still do." She nods to herself. "I still will."
Branch
"No need to apologise. I wanted to get out and I still do." She nods to herself. "I still will."Branch 427Branch 442Branch 450Branch 464Branch 474"That's right. I don't find all that stuff very compelling." She shrugs simply. "I'm just trying to get out.""Without Yana, I would've given up already. I know she's doing her best to get me out.""It is a shit room, that's true. Also, I know who I want to be, Hersh. I just can't become her unless I get…
"What are you getting out of? Being a highly successful singer?"
"The actual singing was way down the list of what I was. Or what I am. Or what I represent."
"That's not really an answer."
"Then... let's say the new material didn't meet my standards. Thought it was a good time to move onto my solo stuff and leave the rest behind."
"I'm getting out of La Luz. And out of my own shadow. I'm getting away from 'Ultra Violeta'."
"Why?"
"Some people will do anything to meet me, you know. But as soon as they do, a little light goes out in their eyes. Then a part of them wishes they'd never met me at all."
An enviable life... if you squint.
Branch
"You sound like you never wanted this."
"So what are you?"
"A singer." She smiles.
"What do you represent?"
"The End of Culture, if you believe the critics." She lifts an eyebrow.
"Your music seems to mean a lot to people."
"Those same people would erase me just so they could discover me all over again. Or kill me so I could never make a bad song, never get old, never be more or less than a dream beyond their reach..."
"Fuck them."
The word sounds blasphemous coming from her mouth.
A criminal thrill down the upper inside of your thigh.
"Say that again, please."
"Say what? Fuck?"
Oh yes. Yes. She needs to make a recording of that.
"Maybe that sounds harsh... but honestly, that's how I think sometimes. I just can't ever show it."
Branch
"Yes. I see." (Nod the feeling away.)
"But the money, V. The money."
"Money for what? Some kind of dream chasing, as you slowly forget everything that made you worthy in the first place? That will not be me."
"I see those artists, recording pale imitations in cold studios and then going back to the big houses that their real work paid for. Houses haunted by younger versions of themselves."
"A few old bands still have it."
"No. They don't. Sometimes we pretend, but deep down we know all it."
"When it's gone, it's gone for good."
Branch
"A few old bands still have 'It'."
"These houses... do they have pools?"
"Usually more than one. Obscene, in my view."
"I don't see what the problem is."
"I'm sure it sounds nice to a communist."
"Yeah, I'd rather just have one big pool."
"That would be far too big." She shakes her head slowly.
"Time to reappropriate."
"Please stop saying unsettling communist things."
"I hear 'victim talk'. You're equally complicit in all this."
"Maybe I am. But believe it or not, Hersh, even popstars can think critically sometimes."
"No 'maybe' about it. You're the poster girl of techno-fascism."
"And soon I'll just be a girl in a missing poster." She glances at her keyboard. "If I make it out."
Branch
"Don't think too critically, that can lead to problems also."
"Right. Then you might accidentally become 'a Critic'." A sly smile. "The most terrible fate of all."
"The world thinks you got kidnapped."
"I know. Pretty funny." She giggles and covers her mouth with her hand.
"If Luz is out there looking for a group of non-existent counter cultural cunts, all the better for us."
Luz said it, but they don't really believe it. They just want any excuse to operate on foreign territory, vaguer the better.
"That's Luz's story. They're probably just being opportunistic."
"As I said. All the better for us."
"We're still not safe, Yana. Our secret police... They'll look everywhere. They're very scary."
Branch
"I'm technically counter culture. And now I'm 'in on it."
"I wasn't kidnapped, though. I want to be here. I need to be here."
"Kidnap with consent. If the kids find out, it'll be all the rage."
"Any... reward being spoken of for your return, V?"
"Probably Luzian citizenship and an Access All Areas lanyard."
"Don't even think about it, Hersh."
"Got it. You seem pretty determined not to be an L-Pop star anymore." (Conclude.)
"I didn't fake every tear. But I faked a lot of them." The girl shrugs.
"I'm still going to get her to the Eastern Republics. This is just a... whatever the fuck. Creative stopgap."
"I believe her. Yana's my S-tier."
Looking at the two girls, you are reminded that all your close relationships have ended in either tragedy or miscommunication, usually both.
The gäng knows gäng when we see it.
"Hold on to that. You'll need it."
"I will. We will." She throws a quick glance at Yana and gets an small smile in return.
Branch
"Tempo was more like my A-tier. Very close to S, though."
"And you're C-tier to me, Hersh." Smoke jets from the side of her mouth. "Guess what the 'C' stands for."
Beside her, the popstar stifles a giggle.
Adorable stifling. More of this.
"I'm sure you'll find a way to let each other down."
"In La Luz they always say that communists are very pessimistic." The popstar turns to Yana with a solemn look.
"It's like they've got nothing to live for. Sad fucking world."
"Now kiss."
"Hersh, you fucking nonce. Get a hold of yourself."
"Very inappropriate, Hersh."
"And now Tempo's dead. Are you a high-level Luzian asset?"
"V's no spy, Hersh -- she barely registers international politics."
"That's right. I don't find all that stuff very compelling." She shrugs simply. "I'm just trying to get out."
"And now Tempo's wanged. Are you a high-level Luzian asset?"
"Seems like a real amateur operation Tempo's running here."
"Must've learned from the best." She looks at you pointedly.
"Without Yana, I would've given up already. I know she's doing her best to get me out."
"Many people discover themselves in liminal spaces."
"This isn't a fucking retreat, it's a shit room in a shitter apartment."
"It is a shit room, that's true. Also, I know who I want to be, Hersh. I just can't become her unless I get out."
"Yana, you were okay with this imprinting thing?"
"Becoming a hyper-tier artist at the apex of her fame and talent? Yeah. I volunteered."
"But as it shook out, I'm a gay middle-aged bootlegger with a nicotine dependency. Funny the little ways life fucks you."
Branch
"V, you were okay with the imprinting thing?"
"It's her life." The girl shrugs. "If she wants to bleach it away, that's her call."
Plastic surgery for the soul.
Botched job.
The other girl looks down and instinctively reaches for her cigarette packet.
Branch
Aren't we a collection of everyone we've gänged with, anyway?
"And you're definitely not a part of these secret treaty negotiations between EMTERR and La Luz?"
"Negotiations?" The girl's perfect nose crinkles. "That's what managers are for."
"Really, you've got nothing on those?"
"No, sorry. Maybe you should get a manager." The popstar shrugs.
"She's not involved, Hersh. Let it go."
Branch
"It would really help me out if you knew something."
"Sorry to let you down. I don't know anything about that."
"She's not doing your job for you, Hersh. Come on."
"Alright, forget it."
"Okay. Done." She gives you a polite nod.
"So now this weird headphones guy actually wants to... rescue V or something?"
"Something like that. Sad bastard."
"I think he probably wants to send me back to Luz. To keep me as Ultra Violeta, eternally." She tilts her head. "The Ultra community is very dedicated."
Branch
"I think I've got the measure of all this." (Conclude.)
"Pretty simple when you break it down. V's still V, I'm Tempo, and Tempo's dead." She shrugs. "Scheme fucking busted."
"Busted." The popstar nods solemnly.
Branch
Branch
Branch
Opportunity here, operant. No need to trade information with KALEIDOSCOPE -- propose a clean swap, the prisoner for this lost girl.
And hand V off to that... weirdo?
What use do you have for a fugitive Luzian popstar? She's a critical piece. Play her.
No commit necessary at this point. String him along, feel him out. There is little to lose.
"Was there something else, Hersh?"
"Yeah, wake up, Hersh. V hasn't got all day."
"Actually, Yana, I do." She smiles blankly at you.
Branch
Ideal. Thanks, Tempo.
Your asset has set the scene for you. All you need to do is play the role.
KALEIDOSCOPE wants mere 'info'? Playground stuff. Here she is -- offer to trade her wholesale. Blow the perv's mind.
And sell V out?
She's nothing to you. The assignment must be everything.
That's the pro move.
It's the only move. Information? Boring. People? Hardcore. Unfuckable-with.
Branch
Branch
She meant that. Possible gäng.
"Yana, why do you have a hyper-tier popstar in a secret little room?"
"Because this is who I was meant to be. Before everything got fucked."
"Tempo was trying to bootleg a person?"
"The ultimate bootleg. We were going to shake up the world, Hersh, the three of us."
"We all agreed to it. That's true." She shoots Yana a dependent glance.
"I still don't understand."
"Tempo wanted to copy her on to me. We all wanted that."
"Won't you miss it? The hyper-tierdom?"
"I'm not sure it even really happened. First thing the instructors do in La Fábrica is take away your name and give you one of theirs."
"What's La Fábrica?"
"The place where all L-Pop stars are trained. Viciously competitive, but very thrilling."
She loved every moment.
"Sounds like a rough time."
"The roughest, if you're not committed. The expulsion rate is 78%."
"And at the end, there was a twenty girl death match and the final survivor got a record deal."
Big ticket pay-per-view. Unmissable.
"Wait, really?"
"No, of course not, Hersh." She covers her mouth with her hand and breaks into a giggling fit.
You wonder vaguely what your stage name would have been if you, too, shined bright enough for Popstar School.
"I went in when I was six years old. So all this kind of seems like it's happening to someone else. Some girl called Ultra Violeta."
"And I don't want to be her anymore."
Branch
We would have whipped at popstar school. Leader of the pack.
"I would pay to see that."
"It was a joke, Hersh."
"Oh, yeah, yeah. I was just riffing a joke on your joke."
"Oh... okay. I don't get middle-aged humour sometimes." She smiles blankly.
"I would pay a lot."
Branch
"The weekly charts and the award shows are bad enough, trust me." She makes a face.
"Me too, to be fair."
"The best days of your life."
"Yes, Hersh. They really were. So much promise in them."
"What's your real name?"
"That doesn't matter. That doesn't matter at all."
Ayami.
A... Begins with... A...
"This yours?" (Show her the red disc with her name on it.)
"Where did you get that?" She recoils slightly from the disc.
Like an unfavourable omen.
"You seem scared of it."
"I'm just... surprised to see it."
"I was sure my record label shelved it... I don't think you're supposed to have that. Nobody is."
Branch
"Why shouldn't I have this?"
"Because it's not finished. I never actually heard the final mix."
"How come?"
"You should ask Espada Records. I don't control the masters."
Hold up! Timing is too clear cut. She sabotaged the release by disappearing.
"But you vanished instead. To ensure they couldn't release it."
"I had a very bad feeling about it. So yes, good point, Hersh. It would be very strange for them to release a song with the artist missing in action."
"'So this is the single that's not a single. 'You But From a Dream'."
"I had a very bad feeling about it. So yes, good point, Hersh. It would be very strange for them to release a…"It definitely had all the stuff they can't get enough of. All of that folklore and nostalgia. But it felt…"No, honestly, it's a good song, Hersh. It was just a studio thing, maybe.""No. I don't answer to anyone when it comes to the music."
"'You But From a Dream'," she repeats back at you.
The world slows for a fraction of a moment, before jolting back into real time.
"There was this recording engineer on it, Paulo, he was really sweet. Then one day there was this new guy, Fondo. He was less sweet."
"And then at the end, this big minister turned up at the studio to listen to some of the mixes. That was extra weird."
Pop music falls under 'Culture'. This minister must be Reyes. Your quarry.
"This minister, was his name 'Reyes'?"
"Facundo Reyes. That's him. Very old, like most of them. Polite, too. Minister of Mass Culture, something like that."
"Before he left he cleared out all the other people from the studio and sat with me in the recording room. Just me and him and all these wires and cold instruments."
It was eerie, she thinks. A silencing of all music amid the man's gravitational pull.
"What did he want?"
"He told me how much he was looking forward to this song. How important it would be for Luz. He said it would be 'the soundtrack to Reunión'..."
In a dim recording studio in the Luzian capital of Cicatriz Frontera, a young girl and an old man discuss an unfolding of light. A cultural hypernova. A map across the stars.
THE WAR ADDRESS. GENERAL AND CHAMPION.
"There was some talk of a concert in space too. The whole thing seemed off. Or maybe... way too on. Sorry. I can't really explain it."
Branch
"Did you guys collab?"
"No... but he did mention he played flamenco guitar when he was a boy. At funerals back in his hometown."
"'Big minister'?"
"The minister of Mass Culture. Reyes. Facundo Reyes."
The Grand Lich of Techno-Fascism. Your quarry.
The Grand Lich of Techno-Fascism. Your target.
"Maybe it was too sad. Like, self harm epidemic sad."
"It definitely had all the stuff they can't get enough of. All of that folklore and nostalgia. But it felt real this time..."
"The song was bad, wasn't it. Just admit it."
"No, honestly, it's a good song, Hersh. It was just a studio thing, maybe."
"Come on, be straight with me. Did someone tell you to make this? Or put your name on it?
"No. I don't answer to anyone when it comes to the music."
"Was it a bad song?"
"No, the song is good... maybe even very good."
"Sounds like you're pretty detached from your own material. Concerning..."
"I'm usually very involved, all the way up to release. But this time..." She pauses for a long moment. "I wasn't."
"Concerts in space?"
"I heard it from my publicist, but Donatella's always saying stuff like that. Only about a quarter of it ever happens."
Ultra Violeta Live: From High Lunar Orbit.
"Sounds cool to me."
"Does it? Maybe I'm overreacting, then..."
Branch
"Sounds like a gimmick."
"A gimmick? Maybe. To me it sounded very ominous."
"Sounds like ticket prices would be insane."
"Now I can get you on the list, Hersh." She grins.
"Any idea where Minister Reyes is now? Maybe when he's coming to Portofiro, where he'll be, anything like that?"
"I don't deal with schedules, so I wouldn't know anything about that."
"How do you know Minister Reyes, by the way?"
Branch
"We also have a collab."
Branch
"Good luck with your collaboration. It's a shame you won't really have time for ours with so much happening."
Branch
"Good luck with your collaboration. It's a shame you won't really have time for ours with so much happening.""I think our secret police will kill you first. They're very diligent, my bodyguard was an ex-member. Be…"Yeah, Minister Reyes has been around forever. I don't know how you could call yourself an international…Branch 676"Super fucking shady. Now I'm worried, Hersh."
"Incredibly fucking dubious."
"I'm supposed to kill him."
Branch
"Kill... Minister Reyes? An assassination?"
Intriguing stagecraft, operant. Telling the possible techno-fascist asset about the secret plan to kill a member of her government.
"I can't help you with any of that, Hersh. Please leave me out of it, I'm in enough trouble as it is. But I think..."
"I think our secret police will kill you first. They're very diligent, my bodyguard was an ex-member. Be careful, Hersh. I like you better alive."
"Yes! Big league shit! Making fucking moves, Hersh!"
"I'm supposed to wang him."
"I don't know him at all, I just think international affairs are neat."
Branch
"Yeah, Minister Reyes has been around forever. I don't know how you could call yourself an international actor and not know him..."
"Kinda out of the fucking loop for a big time spy."
"It doesn't matter. Don't worry about it."
"Okay. I won't."
Branch
"Super fucking shady. Now I'm worried, Hersh."
"Did you know all your political class are copies of this ancient techno-philosopher?"
"I've heard something like that before, yes." She thinks for a moment, then shrugs. "Sorry, Hersh, I'm not really into politics."
"You're being governed by a procession of photocopied men."
"Isn't everywhere?"
Branch
"Music is politics."
"Only if you're trying to manipulate people."
"That's fair, pretty dull stuff."
"Dull and very predictable."
"So I heard your new song." (Lie.)
"Oh really?" The girl pushes a keyboard key with a delicate finger. "What did you think?"
Aimed for nonchalance, flew wide of the mark.
Branch
"Fine." (Shrug.)
"Cool."
Branch
"Music critics occupy the most debased strata of existence. In my opinion."
SEEMINGLY LAUGHABLE COMING FROM A NO-DOUBT-EUGENICS-OBSESSED MUSO-FASCIST, BUT IN THIS INSTANCE, SHE IS CORRECT.
Branch
"I knew you were a cunt, Hersh, but I didn't think you were a music critic."
"It could've been sadder."
"You sound like every other member of the Ultra community."
"It was the best thing you've ever done. There is no greater summit than this."
"Oh. Thanks." She tips her hair forward to hide the small smile.
"To be honest, I only had one headphone on."
"One headphone... Well, I hope it was the left one, I put all my good stuff on the left channel."
She would've been less disappointed if you'd told her you detested it.
"I played the empty disc -- things got kind of weird."
"Those red discs are single play only, right -- all the promo singles are on those..."
"What do you mean 'weird'?"
Branch
"Einzeltone XR is the apex of auditory technology."
"Yes, they're pretty cool. I would prefer if they came in purple though."
"My friend Petre is a format specialist. He loves Einzeltone, but also would kind of prefer they didn't exist."
"Why?"
"He's afraid someone will listen to them."
"Hmm." The girl thinks for a moment. "He sounds pretty cool."
Branch
A middle-aged vendor begins carefully laying sheets of tarpaulin over his wares. As he smooths out the creases, he hums an intimate melody meant for no one but himself.
"But you said listening to this empty one made you feel... weird? Weird in what way?"
Branch
A middle-aged vendor carefully arranges his wares in accordance with a strict personal algorithm. As he does, he hums an intimate melody meant for no one but himself.
"I don't get it. But I feel you and he would get along actually. Once he stops hating you."
"This guy sounds alright. I'd like to meet him."
"Trippy."
"Maybe you're just conditioned to hear something, and not hearing it caused some dissonance."
For some reason, she's uncomfortable talking about this.
"Maybe you're just conditioned to hear something, and not hearing it caused some dissonance.""There is something eerie about a thing being played out... Completely spent... The red doesn't help, either."Wow. This impossibly beautiful Being from a Higher Plane is telling you you have existential problems.
"Weird question, but have you ever heard of discs being weaponised?"
"I remember some scandal in Luz many years ago about the Weeping Eye's use of sonic torture... but discs? Promo discs? No, I've never heard of that."
"You can save people with music though. I truly believe that." She shifts uncomfortably. "So I think you could kill them too."
Branch
"I'll get to the bottom of it."
"Go for it, Hersh. Just maybe don't listen to it again."
"Could be the residue from the ineffable melancholy."
"Traumatic residue. Maybe, yes. I think music can leave a mark, if you're not careful."
"Actually, I know it can."
"Sinister."
"There is something eerie about a thing being played out... Completely spent... The red doesn't help, either."
"Existential."
"I don't mean to be blunt, Hersh, but sounds more like a 'you' problem."
Wow. This impossibly beautiful Being from a Higher Plane is telling you you have existential problems.
"I think this disc took out my partner."
"What do you mean... 'took out'?"
"Rendered incompatible with life."
"Oh my god..."
Branch
Branch
"Don't worry, whatever happened was definitely my fault."
"You shouldn't be so hard on yourself. It's never just one thing that's to blame."
"So this disc... badly hurt your friend?"
"You shouldn't be so hard on yourself. It's never just one thing that's to blame.""I'm just a singer, Hersh. Please, stop this.""Please don't say things like that, I get enough death threats as it is.""I think music can give you a soul, not just save it. But yes, that would mean it can take it back, too."
Fucked him üp.
Branch
"It hurt my friend, yes."
"I'm very sorry to hear that..."
"V, you must have some idea about what's going on here."
"No, no idea at all..."
"There are hundreds of bootlegs out there of my work... that might not even be me on there..."
Branch
As Petre told you -- Einzeltone XR is immune to bootlegging.
"Can't bootleg an Einzeltone, V."
"Then maybe... maybe someone tampered with it..." She trails off and glances at the disc again.
"I just recorded a song, Hersh, like I always do. I'm sorry about your friend, but I... I don't know why my music would do that."
A thin film of tears forms across her eyes.
"That part I believe."
"That's not what I want for my music, not at all... Another reason I should leave it all behind."
Branch
"But it did. So you're nothing but a pawn."
"I hate that it did. I really do. Another reason to leave it all behind."
"I told you, he's not my friend."
"Okay, Hersh. I hear you. But it still happened... Another reason I should leave it all behind."
"This is legitimate and you know it."
"It does look like a real promo disc, yes." She glances at the disc again.
"Whatever it was, it's empty now. Like my double."
"If it's any consolation, I don't think people can just disappear... he must've gone somewhere."
"Single play only. Who's to say?"
"I hope not. With all my heart."
She recognised it immediately. This is no bootleg.
"You said Reyes came to see you. It's definitely related. Stop playing dumb."
"I'm not, I just got a feeling..."
"It hurt my direct report."
"I'm sorry. I know what it's like to lose good people mid-tour."
"It hurt my comrade in perpetual revolution."
"That sounds like a weird communist thing. I don't know anything about politics."
"He wasn't my friend. I never met him."
"That's an even greater loss then, isn't it? To never have known what's been taken from you."
"I suspected you were a Luzian asset, but I've now upgraded you to full-on operant."
"I'm just a singer, Hersh. Please, stop this."
"Your name's on it. You assassinated him, basically."
"Please don't say things like that, I get enough death threats as it is."
"Music can save your soul, but it can also take it."
"I think music can give you a soul, not just save it. But yes, that would mean it can take it back, too."
"Are you serious, Hersh? A disc?"
"Pretty sure, yeah."
"Fuck me." She looks at the popstar, mouth ajar.
"Yana, I don't know anything about this..."
"Like this." (Roll your eyes back and make a gargling noise.)
"Well it was this or terminal sexual melancholy. Either way, you were involved."
"I don't understand what you're saying..."
"I'll hang on to the disc for now." (Go back.)
"Please don't mention it again." The girl rolls her shoulders and looks away.
Branch
"From a friend of mine."
Branch
"You could make a fuckfold of money with that, Hersh."
A 'fuckfold': 54,567,389 Superbloc kupongs.
"That's not important."
Branch
"That's some premium-grade merchandise, Hersh. You could make a fuckfold of money with that."
"About this red disc of yours..."
"It's not mine, as such..." She shifts. "What about it?"
What on earth was on that red disc?
Nothing from earth. That's the true horror of it.
"This song, 'You But From a Dream'... where exactly did it come from?"
"All time and place before you, luminous... sense and no sense, cosmology of a dream you may have lived and may yet live again..."
Branch
Words you've heard before -- snatched from the cosmic void by an insane psychologist.
Let her speak. See where she thinks the words stem from.
"I didn't write those lyrics. But I did."
This girl is an antenna. A lightning rod.
"I actually don't think you did. I think you... transcribed them."
"Maybe... maybe it was both. As if I'd tuned into some distant station."
"Shared dreams passed round from consciousness to consciousness, covered with invisible fingerprints..."
Or maybe only one core dream, iterated upon every night by the sleeping millions.
A communal painting on the courtyard wall of a lunatic asylum.
"I imagined..." You lose her for a long moment, like she's forgotten you're there at all.
"I imagined I was floating on the edge of a black hole, moments before falling through... and the stars were chanting at my back."
"Chanting the lyrics?"
"Maybe those lyrics, maybe something else. I don't know what happened after that... just that it had already happened."
The eternal zero. Light would fold in on itself, dragging time behind it, face-first along the concrete of the cosmos.
In front of you would be true dark -- but if you only looked behind, you would be the last witness to the culmination of the universe, the spool running clear of the light.
What's the last thing I'd see?
The back of your own head.
And for close to a thousand years, to the awe-struck below, you would be visible on the precipice as a slow motion recording, a monument to the terror, and the wonder too.
"I thought it was all a little scary, to be honest. Beautiful, though... I'm very sorry about your partner, Hersh, honestly, I never meant to hurt anyone. But I didn't really write that song."
"Something else did."
Branch
A spy can dream...
CASCADE, hero spy turned cosmonaut, takes on gravity itself.
Fück yes. Can't keep us down.
I don't care about space shit. (Shake it off.)
"What did it feel like going through?"
"I don't know. I could only get as far as the first moments of falling. Then I woke up."
It would feel something like this: Light folding in on itself, dragging time behind it, face-first along the concrete of the cosmos.
"Who else could've written them?"
"I don't know. The world? The stars?"
"I need you to be more specific, V."
"The lyrics came through me. But I didn't create them. I channeled them from somewhere beyond myself."
She's connected some of the dots, in her own way. No reason to jump ahead.
"What's that?"
"Lyrics I didn't write. But I did."
"Who else wrote them?"
"Oh, so you have other collabs going on? Who, V? Who?"
"Still very vague, V."
'Not really an answer, was it?"
"It's part of the answer. Those are lyrics I didn't write. But I did."
Branch
... Are you being had here?
"Maybe nothing is on that disc and this is all a massive bluff."
"... What?"
Branch
Branch
Artists will go to almost any lengths to protect their reputation. This new song's a bust -- and she knows it.
"Look, V... Kind of sounds like this song was just pretty bad..."
"The song was good, Hersh. Believe me."
Branch
"We could take a look at it together, maybe rework some sections... It'll be good for our collab."
"Oh... I don't think there's any need. Thank you, though."
The girl turns her head from you and focuses intently on her keyboard.
Branch
"This big production you've staged... you can just let it go. Song was bad. It's okay. No one is 100% hit."
"I am. I'm 200% hit. Move on."
Branch
Dr. Gonza was right. This has to be a sex thing. He just wasn't thinking Big Picture enough.
"You leaked an A.S.D., didn't you?"
"What's an A.S.D.?"
"Audio Sex Disc."
"Oh my goodness, Hersh... no."
Sound only -- bold move. Potentially hotter than visuals, if done right...
Branch
"Rein it in, Hersh. Don't bring that shit in here."
"This is why security was very important on tour." She looks at Yana solemnly.
Branch
"That's why it's so hard to get. That's why you had to leave Luz... in disgrace."
"Please stop. I've had a lot of issues with fans and my sexuality. You're bringing it all back up."
"I'm finding you very disagreeable right now, Hershel."
The scent of scandal emanates. Just imagine... something profound enough to blow a virginal communist's little mind?
"I think I know where the lyrics for 'You But From a Dream' came from."
"What do you mean?"
Branch
"First, promise you won't narc."
"I'm no narc, Hersh."
A likely story. Artists are the world's most unrepentant narcs.
"Tell me, V, have you ever written a self-confessional lyric?"
"Yes, of course."
"Then don't talk to me about narcing."
"Good point. Then let's say... I only narc on myself." She nods, happy with that answer.
Branch
Raise your eyebrows.
"Maybe not, but you are Luzian."
"I can't help that. I'm trying to not be Luzian anymore, if that counts."
"Good."
"Yes. Very good."
"What do you know about Project AUTONOMÍA?"
"The rocket that exploded, you mean? I've seen the footage. People talked about it for years, back in Luz." She shakes her head. "Why do you ask?"
"Wait. What were Luzians saying about it?"
"It became a bit of a recurring joke. You know, about the so-called Developed World. There were running segments about the antiquated engineering."
"I never found it funny myself."
"The rocket didn't explode. It made it to orbit."
"Really?" Her mouth opens slightly. "But what about the footage I saw?"
"How amusing. You civilians still believe in 'footage'."
"I am not a civilian, Hersh. I haven't stepped inside a shop in three years. How does this relate to my lyrics, exactly?"
"A doctor on a secret space mission went insane. Basically tried to use the crew as human antennas. He heard these very same words."
Branch 886"I am not a civilian, Hersh. I haven't stepped inside a shop in three years. How does this relate to my…"Looked real enough to me, Hersh. As a child." A disgruntled silence. "How does this relate to my lyrics,…"I see..." She thinks about this for a moment. "How does this relate to my lyrics, exactly?"
"Oh my god... How long ago?"
"77."
"When I was two years old." She looks up, as if peering through the ceiling. "But if that's true..."
"Whatever you did creatively with that song... you tuned into the stars."
"The creative process reached the stars? I was a medium for them... That's such a captivating thought..."
Light blooms behind her pupils.
"Words, spoken across emptiness, finding their way to us. Maybe not even spoken..."
"Not us. Just you. And this other space lunatic."
"But you don't know for sure, do you?" She holds up a finger. "Actually, don't tell me if you do."
"You know, I never liked the idea of my lyrics being mine. That's not how I think of them -- it's not even how I write them. But if the words are out there, just waiting for someone to hear..."
"Maybe the universe is always singing, and, once in a while, we get to join in."
"That does sound nice."
"I think so."
PSEUDOPOD may have a different outlook.
"I just hope the stars can hear us sing back."
Better that they don't know you exist at all.
"I hope so too."
"I'll keep singing, Hersh. It's the only thing I can do well."
Branch
"If they can, I hope they don't take it the wrong way."
"I think the stars know what's what, Hersh."
"To be clear, I do not think the stars are our friends."
"Okay, Hersh. I do."
Look up.
The peeling off-white ceiling is two feet above you. A hairline crack runs through it like a streak of black lightning.
The popstar follows your gaze up. You both spend a quiet moment staring at the ceiling, but daydreaming of beings far beyond it.
"What do you think it's singing for?"
"To make some noise. To put some emptiness to melody."
"Thanks, V, my cosmic meltdown just went nuclear."
"Is it really any worse than the alternative? That we're that small? That there's nothing out there at all?"
"I repeat: Sort of killed them all."
"I know, horrific... But at the same time, isn't it sort of beautiful to die listening to the words of angels?"
"I repeat: Sort of wanged them all."
"The idea doesn't bother you?"
"Personally, I'm having a bit of a cosmic meltdown about it."
"I guess it raises certain questions..." She shakes her head. "But the questions are much more interesting than the answers. It doesn't scare me."
Uh oh. She's kind of digging this star-fucking business.
"77. He also sort of killed them all afterwards."
"Oh..." She glances down, fringe hooding her eyes. "That's very disturbing..."
"77. He also sort of wanged them all afterwards."
"Wow. So earnest. Are all you Luzians such easy propaganda marks? Explains a lot."
"Looked real enough to me, Hersh. As a child." A disgruntled silence. "How does this relate to my lyrics, exactly?"
"The explosions were real -- they just weren't from the rocket."
"I see..." She thinks about this for a moment. "How does this relate to my lyrics, exactly?"
"Maybe we should talk about something else." (Drop it.)
"I'm a bit confused, but... okay." She looks at you expectantly.
Branch
"I think I get it. The ineffable melancholy of L-Pop."
"What's that?" The girl appears genuinely interested.
"The ineffable melancholy. Can't define it, can't live without it."
"Yes, there's definitely a sadness to living." A smile plays around her mouth. "But I think I know what you mean."
"There's melancholy you can eff and melancholy you can't."
"But if you've figured it out, Hersh..." She puts a slow finger to her lips. "Best to say no more about it."
"Because you can't."
Branch
"I think it's the stuff that makes your music good."
"I'm not sure that's one thing in particular... But I think I know what you mean."
"Tell me more about Luzian Electro Pop."
"We can just call it L-Pop. What would you like to know?"
Branch
"What's the history?"
"The genre's maybe thirty years old, I would say? Year 65 sounds right."
As old as her. She is L-Pop.
"It evolved from traditional Luzian funeral ballads, but the instrumentation is all synthesisers. That's how you can date it -- certain synth sounds for certain years."
"The earliest songs followed the Luza Réquiem form too, with extended overtures before the verse kicked in. These days they're more classically pop in their structure."
"Was it always so popular?"
"At the beginning it was more... independent. But after a decade or so, it exploded. For the last twenty years, L-Pop's reigned supreme."
Branch
"When did you first hear it?"
"Impossible to say. Some of the songs have been stuck in my head longer than memories. I was born listening to L-Pop, I think."
Maybe conceived to it too. Hot. Sad and hot.
"So now it's just another commodity. My heart beats underground, V."
"It's not." She shakes her head, defiant. "The labels let the artists lead. I play six instruments, Hersh. I control all the creative direction of my music, from the lyrics to the visuals to the show lighting. That's why people respond to it, I think. It's real. Real feel."
Then, not understanding how it happened, but very happy that it did, the Grown-Ups sidle up and cream their share off the top.
"It's only as real as you, then."
Branch
"Just you and me in here, Hersh. Don't I look real to you?" She holds her eyes on you. "You do to me."
"I know I'm fading slightly, but I'm still here, Hersh." She smiles.
Not fading. Shimmering.
"Six instruments?"
"Piano, guitar, viola, clarinet, drums and harp. And fado guitar, but I'm including that under 'guitar'."
No bass? Lightweight.
"I heard one of your songs, on that ad in Party Alley. Sounded very sad."
"Of course. That's the beating heart of L-Pop. Something has been lost."
A little grave in the heart.
"Sorry, I'm not the best at explaining the intent. I'd rather let my music do the talking. Or the feeling. But I do know this:"
"Melancholy is the heart of the genre. If you don't reckon with melancholy, you'll never be touched by L-Pop."
"Trust me, I understand melancholy."
"Do you? I feel many people think they do... but the truth of it is harder to grasp."
"A song can communicate with you, like it was made only for you. It's a psychic medium. L-Pop will catch you unawares if you're not careful."
Fluent in memory. Speaks ghost. Has conversational dream.
"I prefer music which rouses my soul, not laments it."
"If you want to be roused, first you have to be asleep, right? First you have to touch dream."
THE PARTY NEVER SLEEPS. IT IS ALWAYS ROUSED. LISTENING TO MUSIC THAT REINFORCES NEGATIVE EMOTION IS BOURGEOIS MOPING.
Branch
THE PARTY NEVER SLEEPS. IT IS ALWAYS ROUSED. LISTENING TO MUSIC THAT REINFORCES NEGATIVE EMOTION IS BOURGEOIS…Disc variants. Branded keyboards. Sellout tours. This sadness thing bankrolls itself.Don't bother. This assignment doesn't require 'melancholy'. Just a gun and a steady hand.Life is sad. That's the reason. Starts sad, gets sadder.Songs can haunt you longer than people. All the way to the end of a life, on perpetual loop in the background…
"Lot of money in making people feel things."
"That's true... The receipts don't lie."
Disc variants. Branded keyboards. Sellout tours. This sadness thing bankrolls itself.
"I'm ready to declare this the summit of artistic expression."
"But you've barely heard it, right?" She smiles. "Usually I'd ask my manager to give you my back catalogue... But you might have to fend for yourself this time, Hersh."
Don't bother. This assignment doesn't require 'melancholy'. Just a gun and a steady hand.
"A passing fad, probably. Genres come and go."
"I don't think so. There's a good reason why it's so popular." She shrugs.
Life is sad. That's the reason. Starts sad, gets sadder.
"Sounds like a warning."
"No, not at all. It's just... heavy. It's not featherweight music. When it's done right... it clings to you."
Songs can haunt you longer than people. All the way to the end of a life, on perpetual loop in the background of your mind.
"Sad music for sad people, got it. Nothing to see here."
"That's missing the heart of it, Hersh. Sadness and melancholy are two different things. Close, yes... but different."
"Isn't that just the human condition? Happiness, possible. Melancholy, inevitable."
"Of course it is. But it gets sweeter the more intimately you know it."
"How would you describe the sound of L-Pop? What's its deal?"
"Fate. Longing. Saudade. Like something has been lost."
"Are all L-Pop stars female?"
"Most of them, yes. They've tried various formations over the years, groups, male duos, twins." She grimaces.
"But the biggest names in L-Pop are girls, for sure. Sixteen to thirty."
"Not a lot of time to make an impact."
"Burn bright, then burn out. That was the motto in La Fábrica."
Branch
"Bet they shoot you when you turn 31."
"Most of us become managers or choreographers. With respect -- fuck that."
"Must be the inherent sadness of twenty-something females."
"I think it has something more to do with the fans. Teenage girls make the rules. Everyone else just follows them."
"What do you write about in your lyrics?"
"My life, mostly. What else is there to write about?"
Sex.
Failure.
THE WORKING CLASS.
"The people."
"I'm talking to them. That's the point. Two-way mirror."
"It's my job to be a blank slate. Once I channel the emotion from my life, I carry it to the listeners. Then I become a void -- they can project it all back into me."
Branch
"It's my job to be a blank slate. Once I channel the emotion from my life, I carry it to the listeners. Then…"More fun if you don't though, isn't it?" A quick smile."Is this about your old friends? From the photo? You'll realign, Hersh, I know you will.""You look pretty tough to me, Hersh. I'm glad you're on my side.""That will make a good song, one day." A quick smile. "Album closer.""Only if it hurts." A quick smile.
"Me."
"I've just met you, Hersh. But never say never... I've written songs about people that they'll never know are about them."
"I'll want to know, please."
"More fun if you don't though, isn't it?" A quick smile.
"I carry a lot of failure with me. Pretty sad stuff, I think you'll agree."
Branch
"Is this about your old friends? From the photo? You'll realign, Hersh, I know you will."
"You look pretty tough to me, Hersh. I'm glad you're on my side."
"So, like... boys and stuff?"
"Not if I can help it. Relationships tend to burn away under a spotlight."
Yours don't seem to require the spotlight.
"So there's no one you're leaving behind back home?"
"It's not..." She looks down, embarrassed. "Maybe there was one person. But I don't know how real the whole thing was. I can never tell, really."
Another curse of being hyper successful, and existentially beautiful.
"That will make a good song, one day." A quick smile. "Album closer."
"How about love, do you sing about that?"
"Only if it hurts." A quick smile.
"What's your opinion on the Culture Blockade?"
"I can understand why it's there -- a lot of people are scared of La Luz. But I'd like L-Pop to spread further across the world, as far as it can go."
"There should be no blockade on music. No limit to where art can reach."
Branch
'Cover the Moon When I'm Gone' -- what's that one about?"
"I took some inspiration from an old Luzian death rite -- it dictates that you cover all mirrors in a shroud for three days after someone has died."
"Why?"
"To make sure the dead person doesn't get trapped in the reflection. You don't see it much in the cities anymore, but in the smaller towns and villages... I remember they did it at my grandmother's funeral. I found it very striking as a child."
A six-year-old girl slowly lifts the corner of a heavy white sheet with frayed edges. Behind the sheet is a mirror. There is no one else in the living room. The girl catches a glimpse of herself and drops the sheet in shock.
"Anyway, I had this dream one night where I was trapped in the moon."
"In the moon, not on it?"
"In. Yes. Inside. Like a gigantic mirrorball."
"It was more like a nightmare, to be honest. And so I thought, when I die, someone needs to cover the moon with a giant shroud for three days. So I don't get trapped in there."
True dark. No light in the night sky but the dead stars.
"Then I took that image and wrote the song." She shrugs.
"Pretty heavy subject matter for mainstream pop."
"I think it's relatable." She flicks something off her jacket sleeve. "Can't argue with the charts."
Branch
"V, you're so cool."
"Thanks, Hersh. You too."
Alternative wording
"Thanks, Hersh. So are you, When you're not being mega-weird."
"Kind of far-fetched."
"I hear you, Hersh. Next time I'll make sure to select the lowest common metaphor."
"Cool."
"Not very cool at all, actually. I could see out of it, but there was no sound in there, no music, no voice... dead silence."
"Isn't L-Pop just another weapon in Luz's massive cultural victory scheme?"
"There's an element of propaganda, yes. Unavoidable in a state which actually values its culture."
You're speaking with its champion soldier. Its glass cannon.
"Good on you for getting out of all that."
"Thanks. But I'm not out of it yet. One foot still trapped."
Branch
You can pull it free or kick her back in.
Branch
One foot in the empire. One foot in a shadow.
"You have blood on your hands, V."
"And you're a spy, Hersh. Let's not compare national atrocities."
Branch
"Earlier you told me how you're planning to kill Minister Reyes. Literal blood on your hands, not just figurative."
THIS FOOLISH GIRL IS CONFUSING REVOLUTION WITH HOMICIDE.
"I don't really know anything about the Superbloc, but I know from history class that communists are always scheming something."
UNTHWARTABLE SCHEMES TEN THOUSAND YEARS.
"You're the Big Gun, your place is on the front line, churning out propaganda hits!"
"Call me a deserter, then. But I've given enough. No more, Hersh."
"What are the suicide epidemic statistics?"
"I don't think anyone keeps a record of that," she says bluntly.
"Someone does, I guarantee you."
"Maybe. You'd have to ask the Ministry of Mass Culture."
Branch
"I'm not convinced that this stuff isn't weaponised somehow."
"Beautiful weapons, if so."
"Thanks for the L-Pop primer." (Back for now.)
"No problem, Hersh."
Branch
"A few more questions about L-Pop..."
"Go ahead." The popstar nods.
"We've got a couple of fan-shifters out there, V."
"Great. The very thing I'm trying to outrun is right outside the door."
Alternative wording
"Yes, you mentioned already."
"They were tough, but fun."
"They're kind of obsessive... And I don't know, I think some of the music's meaning gets lost. I think they take the wrong things from it."
She's uncomfy.
"They're kind of obsessive... And I don't know, I think some of the music's meaning gets lost. I think they…"I know their type. They're obsessives. I mean, it's harmless enough... I don't know.""I know. Sometimes I can hear the 'ultras' in the front row at shows. It throws me off, they can't even keep…
Branch
"Your music's going to mean different things to different people."
"Yeah, you're right, Hersh. I can't control it."
"Well, I can, actually." She glances around the room. "I can flee the state and never come back."
Branch
"They mentioned suicide? 'Fallen Ultras'?"
"Random acts of self-annihilation are not unheard of in the Ultra community..." She looks down. "I don't like it when it happens, but now and again, it does happen, yes."
"I get letters, too... These days they screen them, to keep away the worst..."
Another thing she's trying to outrun.
"Can L-Pop really turn you suicidal?"
"Not the music itself, I don't think, but if it brushes up against some damaged part of you..."
"You're dealing with the human soul, Hersh. Gets mucky in there."
"Has anyone tried to kill you?"
"I've had a couple of stalkers but nothing serious. My security takes care of them pretty quick, usually."
She's a state asset. The Weeping Eye would handle any external threats, with prejudice.
"But two years ago, a girl did kill herself at one of my concerts. With a handgun."
"That's heavy, V."
"Yeah. Third row. Looking straight at me." She pushes a single keyboard key. "Leonor Souza. She was fifteen years old."
Branch
"I didn't play a show for six months after that."
Didn't go outside either.
Branch
"Fuck, I didn't know that, V."
Say nothing.
"Has anyone tried to wang you?"
"They seemed to think it was cool. Some kind of status thing."
"Obviously I don't think it's 'cool'..."
"This is why I don't like this whole 'fan-shifting' thing. They go too far. Then they start encouraging each other... My music is about feeling. Not surrender."
"Price of fame, I would say."
"Maybe it is. Maybe I'm being unrealistic."
"They think listening to your music is like getting punched in the elbow nerve. They do it to each other."
The popstar blinks at you as she takes in your words.
"I have nothing to add to that."
Branch
"What does 'moonglow' mean? They say it a lot."
"I never actually said that. It was some nothing phrase that the PR team came up with last album cycle. Sadly, it stuck."
"By the autumn, they'll have forgotten why they liked it. 'Moonglow' will no longer be moonglow."
Branch
"Yana's kind of the ultimate fan-shifter, isn't she?"
Branch
"How do you mean?"
"I mean... she was actually going to be you."
Branch
"I don't think Yana wanted to be me. I just think she didn't want to be herself."
Now she's fan-shifting as Tempo, a gay middle-aged criminal.
Branch
"It's kind of different, Hersh. I didn't want to be V, I just wanted to be anybody but me. As you can tell, 'cos I've fan-shifted fucking Tempo instead."
"I knew you both, Yana, before the imprinting. You're not just Tempo, or Yana. You're your own person now. A two-tone kaleidoscope."
The girl throws a quick glance at the popstar, and half a smile.
"Don't lump me in with those skanky cunts, Hersh."
"How do you mean, Hersh?"
"Enough about fan-shifting." (Back.)
"I agree. I won't miss them."
Branch
"To be honest, they're representing you pretty poorly."
"I know their type. They're obsessives. I mean, it's harmless enough... I don't know."
"They can't sing for shit."
"I know. Sometimes I can hear the 'ultras' in the front row at shows. It throws me off, they can't even keep time right."
"So what's next for you?"
"Easy. Keep running. All the way to the Eastern Republics." She pushes a single key three times.
"What's in the Eastern Republics?"
"A good music scene. And a distant shore."
"A fugitive life, then."
"I never thought of myself like that. But yeah. Fugitive." She tries the word out, speaking it for the first time with new meaning.
A fugitive from one empire or another. Do angels ever truly know if they're moving through the living or the dead?
Branch
"That's going to take a lot out of you."
"I'm not scared." Almost absent-mindedly, the girl plays a swift, gentle melody.
"As long as I have something that makes sound by my side, I'm not afraid to disappear."
Branch
"You're not going to make it, you know."
"You're wrong, I will." Almost absent-mindedly, the girl plays a swift, gentle melody.
Branch
"She will." A nod and an exhale.
"Call yourself a 'renegade', not a 'fugitive'. Sounds cooler."
"And a little braver." Almost absent-mindedly, the girl plays a swift, gentle melody.
One very at odds with the atmosphere in the room.
"You're not running. You're stuck in a room."
"Then I'll let the light carry me."
"You know the full force of the Luzian government are after you, right?"
"Oh, yeah. I bet they're pretty mad. Contracts and stuff."
"I'm currently responsible for 6.2% of La Luz's GDP, they won't do anything but escort me to the nearest mega-stage."
"Working on new material?" (Nod at the keyboard.)
"Trying to, yeah. Are you familiar with the old material?"
SALT THE EARTH. REJECT 'YOUTH CULTURE'. THE SPELL OF THE NEW IS THE TRICK OF THE ENEMY.
"Neo-fascist anthems."
"Not all music has to be a movement. All it has to do is move someone."
"Anyway, L-Pop's all sad, but not all bad. I wrote a few good songs here and there."
"Not all music has to be a movement. All it has to do is move someone.""I think the overplaying is the point. State-sponsored.""It is pretty one note, I'll give you that.""I think that's okay, then...""Cool. Some freaks don't take 'no' for an answer."Branch 1324"She said don't get weird, Hersh. Not even 'potentially' weird."
A couple she's very proud of, even.
"Wait, they let you write your own material? Weren't you... churned out at the popstar factory?"
"Most L-Pop artists go through intense training, yes, but we all write our own material. That's an important part of what they teach us, alongside the dance routines -- creative expression, freedom, courage."
"Something created by a committee will always have a hole in the centre. Everyone can sense it. Something that comes from a heart will have... a heart. Person to person."
"And how's the new stuff compare to the L-Pop?"
"It's... nice. A little intimidating too. I don't want to just play sad music anymore, but it's the only colour I've known. I'm trying to find new colours."
She plays a few slow bars, using both hands this time. Bass joins treble, emotion forms from thin air.
It reminds you of the final line of a poem.
FUNERAL PLAYLIST. COFFIN OUTRO.
Branch
"What you're playing now sounds sweet to me."
"That's because it's a sweet melody. I could put down a hundred of those, I've been playing piano since I was five-years-old. I don't know... people call me a perfectionist."
"Be a perfectionist or be one of the others. That's what I think."
Branch
"Just keep going. The world will always need music."
"I think the world has too much music. It's everywhere. Shops, restaurants, cafés, rooftops, lifts -- Yana tells me even the aero-trams have music players now. Why?"
THE ANSWER IS OBVIOUS. TO KEEP THE MASSES UNDER DIM SEDATION.
"Probably to stop people thinking too much."
"Yes. Exactly. Some kind of... numbing agent." She nods once, emphatically.
"The very opposite of what music should be."
"Yes. Exactly. Some kind of... numbing agent." She nods once, emphatically."I think it's to stop people from feeling things.""Yes. Like he'd already given up on himself. And anyone who might listen to him.""I don't think so. There's no such thing as a real imitation -- just an endless call and response, getting…"Then they've already got you where they want you. Indifferent to sound."
Branch
"Because life is more fun when it has a soundtrack."
"I think it's to stop people from feeling things."
"The Culture's bleeding out, V. While people just walk by."
"Pick up an album, all the covers look the same. Turn it on, all the music sounds the same. It's like... music for ghosts. Anthems for nothing."
"I worked with a guitar player who paid a ridiculous sum of money for the exact amplifier one of his favourite bands used on a record once. And he was... proud of it. He told me it was 'authentic'."
No contempt, just a light sadness.
"Very lame."
"Yes. Like he'd already given up on himself. And anyone who might listen to him."
"Some imitations can be more real than the originals."
"I don't think so. There's no such thing as a real imitation -- just an endless call and response, getting weaker by the round."
"I don't think about things like that. Music's either playing or it's not."
"Then they've already got you where they want you. Indifferent to sound."
"Do you think about your old band at all?"
"I'm a solo artist. I don't have a band, just collaborators."
'Solo'? Mega disregard for the sound-gäng and their contributions!
"Isn't gäng important to you?"
"Gang... ?"
"Gäng! Your team! Your collaborators!"
"How they play is important to me. I fired a lot of people. It's hard to find good players, you know? Most of them are technically competent, but they're missing something..."
"I was far closer to my dancers. They're the ones you breathe in sync with up there. Aurelia, Misty... Lulu. Marla. I miss those girls. I hope they're alright."
Four young women bound in holding cells. The interrogations have not yet been violent, but they have been ruthless.
Despite the concerted efforts of the Weeping Eye, none of the four have revealed any information about the sudden disappearance of their lead artist.
Branch
"Aren't your collaborators important to you?"
"Now that you say it, I'm something of a solo artist myself."
"Heavy lies the crown, right?"
"Don't disparage your team like that!"
"I value good musicians. But they don't sit in the back of the tour bus at midnight alone with it all."
"This is my old band." (Show her the Crew photo.)
The popstar leans forward and takes in each of the faces carefully.
"This is a good photo. It has feel." She looks at you now. "You were close to each other."
Close enough to touch shadows.
Close enough for it to hurt.
"We had our moments."
"That's all we really get out of this life. A string of moments hung on fragile thread."
The photograph is hard to look at, but easy to touch. When your fingers find its edges, a kind of strength charges through them.
"Thanks for showing me, Hersh."
Branch
You shouldn't have kept this photo. You should have left it where you found it, stained in your ally's blood, smashed upon the ground, sealed behind a locked door.
"We weren't, really."
"I think you were. Look." She points at the photo. "They're orbiting you."
"The only friends I ever knew."
"And there's six of them? That's all you need. More than most people get out of a lifetime."
"Do you just think about music?"
"No. Mostly I think about the mistakes."
"What kind of mistakes?"
"Notes I sang slightly off. Songs that needed an extra verse, half a bridge, album names I settled for when I knew I should've pushed further -- you build beautiful cathedrals to compromise."
"I can't stand myself sometimes. The weakness. The mundanity."
"You should go a little easier on yourself."
"I hate it when people say that." She smiles at you.
"A lack of vision. That's the thing I can't forgive. In myself and in others."
"I hate it when people say that." She smiles at you."Of course it matters. Even the penguins know when they've been touched by something.""Yes. Yes, I agree, Hersh. It is. The hardest thing you can do in your life.""No." She shakes her head defiantly. "They all have to be good. If they're not, I'd rather give up now and…
Branch
"Does it even matter? The entire industry is controlled by artistically-illiterate penguins in suits."
"Of course it matters. Even the penguins know when they've been touched by something."
"Art is supposed to be that hard."
"Yes. Yes, I agree, Hersh. It is. The hardest thing you can do in your life."
"Some things you make will be good, and some will be bad. One follows the other."
"No." She shakes her head defiantly. "They all have to be good. If they're not, I'd rather give up now and never play another note."
"Oh yeah, ha ha. Wouldn't know anything about those." (Go back.)
"Lucky you."
"How do you handle your critics?"
"Indifference and disinterest."
The popstar has nothing further to say on the subject.
Branch
"Art is intimidating. I had to write a poem recently. Absolute spiritual carnage."
"So you're some kind of lyricist?"
"It was for a job, actually. Tight deadline."
"I've been there." She turns her head slightly.
Branch
"Oh yeah. I cut my wrists straight onto the page."
"Yeah, I need to get more into that mindset." She nods approvingly. "Blood on the keys. You get what you put in, you know?"
(Nod like the idea of being a 'lyricist' hasn't only just occurred to you.) "Very underground."
"Isn't that just another word for 'amateur'? Whatever makes you fulfilled, I suppose."
"Enough music talk." (Go back.)
"Okay." She plays a light melody with finality.
This girl is adrift and in dire need of a collab! Time to make your mark. Culturally.
Long-submerged dreams of popstardom float to the surface of your consciousness like drowned corpses.
Branch
"You could just retire from music. Do something else."
"I could. But then my soul would die. So I won't."
"Never knew techno-fascism was so romantic. If it's so freeing, why aren't you still making it?"
"Because I don't want to."
"Good for you. Let's talk about something else now." (Go back.)
"Okay."
Branch
"Yeah, L-Pop's cool. Little overplayed, but cool."
"I think the overplaying is the point. State-sponsored."
"I hear it's sad."
"It is pretty one note, I'll give you that."
"'Familiar'? I go full-spectrum on it."
"People get weird sometimes. You're not going to get weird, are you?"
"No weirder than you see me now."
"I think that's okay, then..."
"I've met famous people before. Consider me unfazed."
"Cool. Some freaks don't take 'no' for an answer."
"Potentially."
"My bodyguard had a six-foot proximity rule. He's not here, but the rule should be."
Branch
"She said don't get weird, Hersh. Not even 'potentially' weird."
"You're an accomplished musician. Let me get your opinions on some music..."
"Okay. They may be stronger than you're looking for though."
Branch
"This isn't... your music, is it?"
"Not yet."
"Okay... I think that's fine, then." She looks relieved.
Branch
"Long shot, no doubt... Thoughts on Blood Golem?"
"On occasion I fuck with the Golem."
"Really?"
"Absolutely. They're a perfect counterforce to my music, melancholic rage against melancholic emptiness."
Desolation in different seasons.
"I listen to them before going on stage sometimes. They emotionally tune me... It's weird, I can't describe it. But it works."
"It's got soul."
"Yeah. Real feel."
Branch
"Yeah. Real feel.""Hmm..." She thinks for a moment, then nods happily: "Probably 'Bound in Piano Wire'. Final track from 'I…A melancholic sledgehammer. The musical world would find itself ill-prepared."Not quite, I would say. Extremely effable, if anything. Though, having said that... most of their lyrics are…
"What's your favourite track of theirs?"
"Hmm..." She thinks for a moment, then nods happily: "Probably 'Bound in Piano Wire'. Final track from 'I Will Know You by the Sound of Your Structures Collapsing'."
"You guys should collab."
"I'd love to. Or, should I say, I would've loved to. The label would never allow it, though." She smiles at the thought.
A melancholic sledgehammer. The musical world would find itself ill-prepared.
"Do they deal in ineffable melancholy too?"
"Not quite, I would say. Extremely effable, if anything. Though, having said that... most of their lyrics are pretty hard to discern."
"Nice V. Didn't know you had it in you."
"I appreciate anything that comes from the heart. Anything that's not... commodified. They're a perfect counterforce to my music also -- melancholic rage against melancholic emptiness."
"Mimi Serafina fan?"
"Oh, yes! I used to have posters of Mimi on my wall when I was younger. Right above my bed."
"I really respect her. She fought to produce her own record when she just twenty-one. Somehow, they let her. But her production was so avant-garde that people who bought the album thought there was something sonically wrong with it."
Bending the gear to her will. Nice.
"I can't imagine anything cooler."
Branch
"You must know Un Deux, right?"
"No."
"Scumsynth up-and-comers?"
"'Scum... synth'?"
You watch her nose physically turn upward a few degrees.
"Look out for 'Go Go to the Beach'. Mega-hit in waiting."
"What a juvenile title."
Branch
"Yeah, not my thing either."
"If you like it, Hersh... Don't let me stop you. You're entitled to your scumsynth."
"They invented the whole genre."
"Oh, well. Good on them, in that case. I admire individuality... even if it's covered in scum." She smiles.
"Ever heard of a song called 'Superbloc, Baby'?"
"'Superbloc Baby'... no, I don't think I have. Sorry."
"It's communist, but ironic."
"Like you, Hersh, right?"
GULAG.
"No, I'm what you call a real communist."
"That's okay, we can still be friends." She leans in, whispers, "I'm not a real techno-fascist."
Branch
THE WALL WILL BE THE JUDGE OF THAT. CONSULT IT.
"How does 'Superbloc, Baby' go?"
Here we go. The spontaneous audition that launched a thousand collabs.
"All that I need lately, is my Superbloc baby"... (Sing the chorus.)
The popstar hums the melody back at you, and then again, a couple of steps slower.
Branch
"That's the melody you played on my keyboard, wasn't it?"
Was it? Maybe it was.
"Maybe, yeah."
"I think it was. No, I know it was, even though you sang it slightly off-key there."
"Nice melody. Lyrics need work."
Branch
"I'm just a vessel for culture, V, I know not what I channel."
"Aren't we all. Although I'm usually one against culture, if you listen to the mainstream critics."
Branch
Playing the keyboard in front of her is one thing... singing quite another. No way.
"Yeah, I'll lend you the disc sometime..."
"Cool. I'd like to hear it."
Sing... in front of a mega-talented popstar? Back up, CASCADE, this is far beyond your training.
"Exactly like me."
"Nice."
Branch
DOUBLE GULAG.
"You should cover it. Could make a cool B-side."
"I'm not sure about the political implications, but maybe..."
"Probably didn't reach La Luz."
"Probably not. Sounds heretical."
"Thanks for your thoughts." (Back.)
"No problem, Hersh."
Branch
"I don't require notes on that, thanks."
"Oh, okay. Good." She looks relieved.
"More musical opinions, please..."
"Sure."
Collaborate with the psychedelically famous popstar.
This girl is no longer a popstar -- she is a liminal artist caught in a liminal space. She doesn't need help with the work, but with identity.
"So what's your new stage name going to be?"
Branch
"I've been asking myself that same question." The girl sets her eyes on you. "I've got a notebook full of ideas but none of them feel like... me."
Branch
"But neither does this 'Ultra Violeta'."
"No. She's always been some kind of stranger."
Branch
"And you don't want to use your real name?"
"I don't think so. No one's used it since I was eight years old. That belongs to someone else too."
"They gave me a stage name too. Actually, more like an anti-stage name. 'CASCADE'."
"CASCADE..." The girl turns it over in her mind. "Not bad."
"I asked for a new one, but they wouldn't give it to me."
"Why did you want a new one?"
Because you fear it carries a curse. CASCADE, emissary of failure, death and the plague of human disunion.
"This is my second shot at this. I'm afraid of repeating... things. Myself."
"Difficult second album." The girl nods sagely.
"The first album wasn't exactly a hit."
"Well, get this one right and maybe they'll appreciate the first one a little more."
"Thanks, Hersh." The popstar looks at you, slightly differently than she was looking at you before. "Cascade..."
"In Illuminado, 'cascade' would be 'cascatear'... Cascatear... You know, that kind of speaks to me."
Branch
"A lot of worse names out there."
"That's for sure. Last year, some unfortunate L-Pop rookie called herself Starla Starlight. Peaked at number 39 in the charts. No second single." She shudders.
"No final decisions yet, obviously, I'm very early in the process. But this was fun, Hersh. Thank you."
Branch
"Make sure to style in all-caps. More hardcore."
"CASCATEAR. Yeah. Not bad at all."
Alternative wording
"CASCA TEAR. Yeah. Not bad at all."
"No offence, V, but get your own name. CASCADE is taken."
"Understood, Hersh. I just liked the sound. You keep it."
Branch
"Isn't the point of these spy cryptonyms meant to be that pretty much no one knows them?"
"Let's leave it, Yana. Hersh is obviously attached. And territorial."
"Yeah. Not bad at all. You could even split it -- 'Casca Tear'."
"You could, yeah... Pretty good, Yana."
"Casca full of tears."
"Nice." A grin flashed your way.
"It was rough and ready, but I'm not sure we can recapture the magic this time around."
"Won't know until you try. But I think you do have to try..."
"First one was a strong demo. This one's sick studio, full band."
"The tools are just tools. Your heart is the constant, always."
"I liked it too, at first. Now, I'm not so sure."
"How come?"
"Hersh, don't be a dickhead, I asked you to be cool--"
"It's okay, Yana. I've been asking myself that same question." The girl sets her eyes on you. "I've got a notebook full of ideas but none of them feel like... me."
Spy by night, recording artist by day, and also by night. Get this collab off the ground, sell it hard. You have much to bring to the table.
"Maybe we could, you know, 'collab' sometime."
"Oh..." she says, a bit faintly. "Yeah, sure."
"You and me, incandescently famous pop-star and underground lyricist. It makes sense, right?"
"Yeah, could be cool."
Not only is there nothing cool about this proposition to her, there is no chance this 'collaboration' ever occurs.
Branch
Wait, no chance?
Sub-zero. Best to bleach this idea from your mind.
Branch
"Yeah... cool to the bone."
Branch
"Mhm." She looks around for someone, anyone to intervene.
Branch
"Mhm." She flashes Yana a sideways look.
"Hersh."
"I've got a couple of ideas already, actually..."
"That's great. I bet they're all great."
"I'm thinking it's like a three-part cycle. Mega ambient. Mega high-concept."
"High-concept, right."
A galactic odyssey, the Quest for the Entropy Pedal. You and V in holographic capes, enclosed by keyboards. Synchronised electro-lute solos...
"All three albums double disc. All tracks fifteen plus minutes. And of course, no radio edits. This is a hill we will be gunned down upon."
"That sounds really cool." She looks at Yana. "I like the vision."
Alternative wording
"That sounds really cool." She looks at the ground. "I like the vision."
Branch
Branch
"Anyway, V... Yana has my info."
"Oh, that's useful." She shifts uncomfortably and looks somewhere else.
Branch
"Are you dense now, Hersh? You're not going to 'collab' with V."
"Back off, this is our collab. You can do your own collab."
"Yana, you said she was alright..."
"We're done with this subject. Move the fuck on."
"Sure, whatever. Listen, V, Yana has my info..."
"Oh, that's useful." She shifts uncomfortably and looks somewhere else.
"You don't get culture like we do."
"I mean... I can dig culture." She shifts uncomfortably and looks somewhere else.
Branch
"Anyway..."
Branch
"Hersh."
"And of course, no overdubs. This is a hill we will be gunned down upon."
"Totally with you." She looks at Yana. "Super cool."
Alternative wording
"Totally with you." She looks at the ground. "Super cool."
"Maybe something stripped down, just keys and guitar. Record it live, get the sound in the room, you know."
"Stripped down, right. That's cool."
"So I'll just come by sometime, or..."
"Uh... sure. Anytime, or whatever."
'Never. Please.'
Branch
"I mean, I know where to find you. You're not exactly going anywhere, ha ha."
"Yeah, no, I'll be here." She nods faintly.
Branch
"I'm a little busy at the moment but definitely keep me posted on this cool idea."
Branch
Branch
Branch
Branch
"Hersh."
"Right. Anyway. Sounds cool, we'll figure something out." (Drop it.)
"Definitely."
Magnitude of setback: Enormous. Failure rating: Spectacular. Morale damage: Catastrophic, yet Not Unfamiliar.
Branch
"I just think we each bring a lot to the table."
"Yeah, no, I get you. The idea is very cool in theory."
"You don't sound into it."
"Oh no, I am. It sounds really cool."
"Catch you later, V." [Leave.]
"Sweet dreams, Hersh."
Branch
"Hello." The sovereign queen of L-Pop barely glances at you.
Branch
"Nice t-shirt." A second glance at your chest. "She looks like me."
There's unease at her fringes -- slow ripples along the shoreline.
Branch
"Everything cool?"
"Nothing's been cool for a long time, Hersh."
"Tempo said he'd help me escape... a friend of his was going to get me exit papers or something. But it's been weeks now and nothing's happening."
"Have you talked to Yana?"
"She keeps saying it'll happen, but she's not very specific. In fact, she's getting vaguer. Reminds me of my first manager."
"I think you should talk to Yana."
"We've talked a lot. I don't know. I just want to see some kind of sky again."
"Have you ever had a day where, if you had the means and the power, you'd happily burn down the world and everyone in it?"
THE MASK IS DISCARDED. THE EVEN-FEATURED TECHNO-FASCIST TURNS HER MIND TO ETHNIC CLEANSING.
"So that's your endgame. Techno-genocide."
"No, it's just a thought experiment. Or maybe just the colour of a day. Whatever."
"I feel... hemmed in, Hersh. Like the walls are coming closer when I'm not looking."
"No, it's just a thought experiment. Or maybe just the colour of a day. Whatever.""How inspiring."Of course that's what you say now, in the cold light of rational thought. But a submerged part of you…Had you a match in hand and the gasoline-soaked world cowering at your feet, you would have struck it clean…For a moment, her mind flits to erasing all life through a single song. A communal three-minute ritual of…"I see. I hope I'm not turning into a communist..." Her features crinkle for a moment.
Branch
"I never feel that way at all."
"How inspiring."
"I mean... yes. But I wouldn't actually do it."
"No, definitely. Neither would I, obviously."
Of course that's what you say now, in the cold light of rational thought. But a submerged part of you remembers those moments as they were.
Had you a match in hand and the gasoline-soaked world cowering at your feet, you would have struck it clean and let it fall.
"I think they call it the 'ineffable melancholy of life'. Get used to it."
"It's not melancholy. It's something else. Not that I'd act on it, of course..."
For a moment, her mind flits to erasing all life through a single song. A communal three-minute ritual of beauty and horror.
"Sister, I've had years like that."
"I see. I hope I'm not turning into a communist..." Her features crinkle for a moment.
"These are big moves, V. They take time. You're not in popstar-land anymore."
"I'm aware. But thank you for pointing it out."
"Something's always happening."
"It doesn't seem like it from in here. It seems more like the world has stopped."
"Mine has, I think."
"Are you and Yana fighting or something?"
"No." The girl sits a little straighter. "Why, has she said something?"
"I mean, she says a lot of things."
"I know."
"Nothing like that, no."
"That's good then. It's just..."
"You must be writing a new song."
"Why do you think that?"
"You look sad. Maybe it's not going well. Or maybe... it is?"
"It's not. Nothing's going. That's the problem."
"You look weighed down by the act of creation."
"It's very hard to create anything in these conditions."
"You look mopey, like your music sounds."
"Oh. Thanks. No, I'm not writing anything currently."
Branch
"Hersh." The girl nods at you, once, as if to confirm your presence.
Branch
The girl leaves a strange chord hanging in the air as she turns to face you.
"Yana, who's this?"
Her gaze has both hold and fight. It takes effort to meet it evenly.
"This is Hersh. She's a friend of Tempo's. Friend of mine. Might be able to help us."
"Who are you?"
Branch
"I think you already know." She nods at your t-shirt.
"This is you?" (Point at your t-shirt.)
"That's me." She points at your shirt too.
"I'm Ultra Violeta. Obviously."
"Luzian electro pop hyperstar?" She looks at the other girl in dismay. "Sorry. Hersh is dangerously outside culture."
LUZIAN AND STAR OF POP? QUAKE BEFORE IT. TWO PRIMARY CANCERS HAVE METASTASISED.
"Hello, Hersh." The girl turns on her stool and faces you fully. "It's nice to meet you."
LUZIAN AND STAR OF POP? QUAKE BEFORE IT. TWO PRIMARY CANCERS HAVE METASTASISED.So pre-zero out, PSEUDOPOD was listening to this girl. Or someone imitating this girl."I told you to be cool.""Yes, fucking seriously. What's not serious about this situation?""Actually a massive deal. Maybe the biggest of the deals.""It's alright, Yana. I appreciate this approach, actually.""It's okay, Yana." A small smile.
"You too, I think."
Branch
"If I was on stage I'd probably make a better first impression. But then... I never really liked being in crowds. Weird, isn't it..."
"Sorry, I've been told I can come across a little cold at first." The girl smiles. "Call me 'V'."
"If I was on stage I'd probably make a better first impression. But then... I never really liked being in…"Oh, right. Thought that might be ironic or something.""I think most of them focus on the wrong things. But then... who am I to tell them where to look?""Well, then... Congratulations. Some people pay grotesque sums of money for..." She waves a hand across…"That's fair. You can let me know one way or the other.""Oh." She looks pleasantly surprised. "I'm very happy you think that."'MINOR 9TH' CHORDS ARE MIDDLE CLASS MUTATIONS THAT MOCK THE SIMPLE BEAUTY OF FUNCTIONAL HARMONY."Mother of fucking god." She pushes a fist into her face."They always expect you to be in full costume.""That's exactly what I want. To be invisible even when someone's staring straight at me.""It's okay, Yana. I've dealt with this kind of thing before."
"Okay, V. I will."
"Cool. I'd like that." She nods, her angular fringe bouncing across her forehead.
You can't quite shake the feeling that this girl is seeing visions of your death as you talk and keeping them all to herself.
"Cool. I'd like that." She nods, her angular fringe bouncing across her forehead."Ultra Violeta is. But she's someone else now. V can be just me." She nods, her angular fringe bouncing…"I agree. Good philosophy." She nods, her angular fringe bouncing across her forehead."Oh, they do. They certainly do." She nods, her angular fringe bouncing across her forehead.
Something mega-eerie about her for sure.
New songs, same old spells.
"So what are you doing here, Hersh?"
Probably a popstar surgery thing...
This being before you is immune to time. Relatively speaking, you will be dead within seconds while she endures forever.
The passage engraved 'MID-THIRTIES' is soon to seal itself behind you, magic mountain cave-style.
So shiny.
"Bear with me. You're extremely famous."
Alternative wording
"Bear with me. Apparently you're extremely famous."
"Ultra Violeta is. But she's someone else now. V can be just me." She nods, her angular fringe bouncing across her forehead.
"'A little cold' is about what the world deserves."
"I agree. Good philosophy." She nods, her angular fringe bouncing across her forehead.
"I thought they media trained you people?"
"Oh, they do. They certainly do." She nods, her angular fringe bouncing across her forehead.
"You're not an 'Ultra', then?" She presses a single note on the keyboard.
Doesn't care for that collective noun.
Point emphatically to your UV t-shirt.
"Oh, right. Thought that might be ironic or something."
"Not a fan of your fans?"
"I think most of them focus on the wrong things. But then... who am I to tell them where to look?"
"Actually, I'm a massive Ultra. Recent recruit."
"Well, then... Congratulations. Some people pay grotesque sums of money for..." She waves a hand across herself. "... this."
"Currently undecided."
"That's fair. You can let me know one way or the other."
"Anything as mainstream as you is bound to underwhelm."
"Oh." She looks pleasantly surprised. "I'm very happy you think that."
"What were you playing there?"
"Oh, nothing. Some variation of F minor 9." The girl finds the chord again, spreading the notes evenly and delicately.
A stack of gleaming hi-fi equipment, speakers resting on cinder blocks, the only thing arranged with care in the apartment. Your asset presses play with a large finger:
_L3.webp){kind=icon}
"Can't get this shit anywhere, Hersh. Has to fall off the back of a boat." A shark grin.
"Listen to this, dynamic range like you wouldn't believe." Raising his voice as the music takes off. "It's like the band's right here in the fucking room."
The popstar looks to you as the notes die.
"Pretty sad."
"Yes. That would be the minor part."
'MINOR 9TH' CHORDS ARE MIDDLE CLASS MUTATIONS THAT MOCK THE SIMPLE BEAUTY OF FUNCTIONAL HARMONY.
"Pretty... mysterious."
"I think that's the 9th you're hearing."
"Pretty."
"It's just a chord. Doesn't really mean anything until some other chords make it mean something."
"Actually, I don't like music that makes me feel things."
"That's pretty tragic for you."
Bask in her starlight.
"Hersh? You look like my grandma during an absence seizure."
Alternative wording
"Hersh, you seizing again? Blink if you can hear me."
"This happens sometimes with new people." She peers at you. "Are you alright?"
"Yep, yep. I'm back."
"Okay. Welcome back, then."
"Mother of fucking god." She pushes a fist into her face.
"All good, just a little bask."
"Oh, okay. No problem. Take your time."
"Yana, how do you know this is the real Ultra Violeta? I saw two others outside, both more convincing."
"More convincing than the actual thing?"
"Oh yeah. This one doesn't even have a costume."
"They always expect you to be in full costume."
"This whole district is lousy with fake pop stars."
"That's exactly what I want. To be invisible even when someone's staring straight at me."
"I just don't know who to trust anymore."
"I can't believe you're being so uncool already. Breaking fucking records."
"It's okay, Yana. I've dealt with this kind of thing before."
So pre-zero out, PSEUDOPOD was listening to this girl. Or someone imitating this girl.
"Oh yeah, this I'm wearing ironically."
"Oh. I don't really get it. But cool, maybe it's a middle-aged thing."
"It's been a long time since someone said that to me. My name's Ultra Violeta."
Branch
'Ultra Violeta'? Could be that 'UV' on PSEUDOPOD's red disc...
"You're a musical artist, right?"
"Yes. That's right. You got me."
"Still nothing."
"Oh, yeah, yeah. Got you now." (Lie.)
"Hold on, is this..."
Branch
"Yes, it is. The girl on your t-shirt." She nods at your chest.
The Tyrant Queen of the World's Wounded Heart.
"My heart is a sovereign state, please be kind.' (Genuflect.)
"I told you to be cool."
"Seriously?"
"Yes, fucking seriously. What's not serious about this situation?"
"No big deal." (Play it off.)
"Actually a massive deal. Maybe the biggest of the deals."
"Yes, it is."
"Hello there."
"Hello."
"'Hello there'? You're standing a foot from the biggest popstar in the world, and you come up with 'hello there'?"
Branch
"I know who she is, I was just keeping it neutral."
Branch
"Your t-shirt says fucking otherwise." She nods at your chest.
"It's alright, Yana. I appreciate this approach, actually."
"Dubious."
(Squint at the new girl.) "World's biggest popstar, eh? I've never heard of you."
Branch
"But you're wearing my face." She nods towards your t-shirt.
"Wow, really fucking up the big meet-and-greet, Hersh."
"I just liked the design."
"The design is her face, you clown."
"It's okay, Yana." A small smile.
"I'm wearing this ironically."
"What a statement. Culture holds its breath."
Branch
The most beautiful face you've ever seen. Your insides clench in terror.
A sudden vision -- shrine, priestess and angel bound within a single frame.