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In the heart of the city, where technology and civility blossomed neon boughs of humanity, Jessica set her feet on the clean sidewalk and nearly stumbled. A realm familiar yet alien, a realm of light, expanded before her very eyes. Illuminated billboards, lies, and transparent girlfriends were all the rage, the trends nowhere more saturated than in the city. So, it was no wonder anyone could move mountains in the dark. Distractions took the form of labor, entertainment, and the next topic. Bliss was the incontestable substitute for freedom.
She never realized the amount of intake the city incurred, until after one night in the woods. The outpour of information now felt like a bombardment, and she wondered if it was exclusive to the way her memory worked or if it was common to everyday people. Elsewhere, in the forest and the canyons, her mind had found reprieve.
Under the cover of a black hoodie, she deftly navigated the urban heart of advertisements. Sights and sounds of ghostly faces interspersed through city traffic, and hundreds of vehicles skimmed by at their spectral pace. In the middle of urban splendor, she realized that humans needed voices in their heads to remind themselves of themselves.
You can do this, Jess.
"You can do this."
You forge algorithms and analyze quantum dynamics in your sleep. You're the master at Legion Leagues, and you've already caught 'em all. You can do this.
She peered backward, to lay eyes on the dark tower. The sight of Goliath HQ made her rethink the time required to uncover its secrets. How might someone scale such a fortress? Beelz and Amon had their due intel and had embarked on their mission at her request. If Sub Terra could overcome Asgard, she could accomplish one little task.
Down the avenues of nightly New Sumer, toward Aurora Bar & Lounge, she memorized every camera. Of all the places Azareans spent their leisure, it was one of two humans attended.
One by the Slush-O, one by the Milquetoast Bar, two by the Step-Up Dance House, and another flanking the Halo Café.
Surveillance didn't catch her face until the very end, as she stared directly into a sidewalk camera. Despite possibility, the city had to sleep. A woman in a poncho tripped across her path.
"There is no light without blackness and despair!" The crazy woman shouted sweet nothings from the sidewalk and walked with the gait of a nutcracker, gyrating her arms. All Jessica could do was snicker and admire the performance. "We must accept that real knowledge, people, real knowledge is the extent of your own ignorance!"
Jessica strolled past the ragged woman and through the sliding wood, into Aurora. Inside, warm colors and flowery fragrances smothered her senses; the interior noise level was only slightly higher than expected. The scent complimented the humble light over hardwood surfaces, reducing all stress from the eyes. Customary of the most luxurious joints, the wood was smooth and authentic. Only the patrons diluted the atmosphere.
On her way to the bar, she pinpointed a group of comrading men at one of the spotless roundtables. She could gauge how much they drank by how loosely their fingers fell over the glass. The wood would be damp before long.
There was an open stool at the pristine counter of black lacquer, front seat to an illuminated rainbow rack. A drink for every existing color, if not more. Thin vapor surfaced out of the slivers between labels, exuding a chill that had no effect on the Azarean bartender.
"ID, please," he said.
Of course, she was being carded. Jessica lowered her hood and, without protest, presented the e-card. The Azarean took it between his bony fingers and slipped it into the handheld scanner, which returned a red light and blank beeps.
"How odd," he said flatly.
Jessica rolled her eyes. "What's the malfunction, best friend?"
"The reader is not reading, which is uncanny."
"Say what?"
"Excuse me for one moment—"
"I'm supposed to skip out on a drink because of terrible hardware?" Jessica scoffed. "Let's take a deep breath and try again. Unless faulty devices define Aurora now." Jessica formed a hypothetical frame with her hands. "Tech kerfuffle at Aurora: the closest we've come to service industry AI."
The Azarean's return glance may have indicated distress, but his perfectly aligned lips made for an ambiguous tell. "Apologies," he muttered, reinserting Jessica's card. A blue light blinked, and the Azarean breathed. "How may I serve you, Miss Misty Ketchum?"
Jessica scanned the racks. I'll take anything in a glass. Not Syringer. Surprise me."
"Very well."
Babel scrambled the ID scanner slower than she expected. Maybe he thought it was funny.
The Azarean began his sideshow mix, while Jess surveyed the lounge. Azareans had a bizarre admiration for abstract art. Abstract art with straight lines. She could admire the decorations on the walls, under normal circumstances, accept a little bit of color in her life. Too bad, she couldn't even turn away from the men nearby.
Beth's killer was sitting two tables away. His name was Stockwell. He had similar features to his terrorist persona but lacked the sinister face paint. Citizens of the deceitful sovereign. Furthermore, no CGI infringed upon his jowls, to misconstrue his appearance like on the Fourth of July. No matter the difference, even from a distance, she recognized his voice from the Goliath recording. In the middle of the moment, Jess questioned her ability to stay calm.
Stockwell surrounded himself with coats, a group of Neo-Zareans, trendy humans who copied Azarean fashion and ostentation. They appeared as nothing less than alien lackeys with their white coats, lenses, and impeccable hygiene. As he sat there, drinking and muttering nothings, Jessica contemplated how monsters moved from one day to the next. His head suddenly turned in her direction. Glasses, a stocky face, and a wide stubble entered her line of sight, and she flinched with sickness.
"Here you are. Sea Foam on the Sun," the bartender said dryly.
Stiffening, Jessica met the bartender and the glass. "Thank you," she whispered.
"Apologies for the earlier inconvenience."
Her cocktail looked like coral and foam with an orange slice. A single swig could help with what came next, so she gulped it down. Assisted by liquid courage, coupled with anger, she eventually left the stool and started toward Stockwell's table.
"Hey there!" she said louder than intended. The entire circle of coats turned. Stockwell lifted one eyebrow and carefully removed his blonde shades. The moment his lenses came down, something felt off. His eyes had no color but strong shadows. His face was entrenched with wrinkles and sags. Jess might've gone as far as to call him sleepless.
"Yea?" he slurred.
Jessica mustered as much fake enthusiasm as her grit could manage. "I saw you and thought you looked familiar. Are you in media or something?" That the best you can do, Jess?
Stockwell almost grinned, but then he looked down. "I've been in nothing major."
"What are you talking about?" his friend started. "He's been in Port Charlie and cameoed in Ships of Wrath and Intergalactic Diaries."
"I don't recall watching those." Jessica tapped her lower lip. "Anything more... recent?"
Stockwell broke concentration to stare at his glass. "No. Nothing. I'm in between things."
"Oh. Sorry to bother you, then." Not sorry.
Inconspicuously, Jessica ambled out of the building and took the cocktail with her. When she inhaled the night air again, acute wetness tipped her cheek. It temporarily curtailed the blinding city lights. Hand out, she caught a sprinkle of rain that was bound to flee. Hatred swelled in her gut, heating its way to a boil. She cought vomit into the glass, then, standing upright, gave herself room to fill her lungs and smash the glass on the floor. It was her alternative to screaming.
"Remember tonight, for it is the beginning of always!"
The crazy woman was still on patrol, throwing lyrics around when a recycle bot rounded the street corner. It promptly hovered to the shards of glass, where Jessica looked up. She sighed at the commonplace sight of an asymmetrical sky, a broken screen of light and mirrors.
"Ready, Babel?"
"Ready."
From her waist, she retrieved a scalpel. While the recycle bot quietly swept the glass, she bent over and made an incision through its panel. The bot stopped and spasmed with a red light on its interface. As quickly as the red flash, it stopped.
"I've successfully logged into the Emergency Response Channel and am now processing records," said Babel.
"Good." A brief glance in every direction revealed no one but the crazy hooded woman patrolling the vicinity. "Here we go..."
Jessica felt around inside the frozen carapace until a grin stretched across her face. Extracting a thin wire, she connected the bot to a chip in the palm of her hand. It triggered a red hologram that simultaneously hijacked every advertisement in sight. Before anyone could notice her tampering, the Emergency Response Channel interrupted the city.
It began as torrential static, at first, static that overtook every animation on every building and corner sidewalk. The discord locked every citizen's jaw wide open. Considering the last catastrophe, the public was frozen in fear. Per Jessica's prediction, people carefully funneled outside of the buildings and onto the streets, to witness the foreboding. That's why she waited outside Aurora. Stockwell and his clueless mug eventually dashed past the doors, amidst the other disquiet patrons.
"Citizens of the deceitful sovereign..."
ns 15.158.61.54da2
