00: Modulation
From up here, even my ears struggled to discern the clamor of the city as anything but a low rumble, yet the whisper from the violet and red neon vistas reached to my core. So clear and soft, so welcoming. So light under the dark sky. Gently calling for me to come closer. Promising eternity. Asking for nothing. One small step for Aya, one giant leap for the short-term quarterly profits of MEC.
One half of my turquoise platform sneaker already hovered over the void. The cold breeze tickling my toes threatened me with an exceptional experience. Could someone tell my heart? It refused to accelerate to a tempo appropriate for the occasion. Quiet quitting on me before I could. How quaint.
Perhaps it sensed the outcome already. Maybe I was as predictable as anyone else. I couldn’t do it, not without writing a will. If I didn’t leave explicit instructions, the label would use some corny butterfly imagery for my posthumos album. I squeezed my eyes. Post, hu, mouse? My breathing quickened. Like pasta noose, posthumous? Yes. The phonetic balance felt right-er. Left to their own devices, people usually gravitated to the simplest answers. At best they would use some monochrome headshot. My entire existence reduced to two colors. Laughable.
Granted, I wasn’t entirely sold on my own concept either: human-sized pink worms dancing around the coffin and their shadows forming my name. Maybe if they had cute eyes? The phone in my sweatpants vibrated before I could tell whether a hot-pink background offered sufficient contrast.
The timer concluded my Unstructured Contemplation Session. Sudden police sirens pierced through my eardrums as I grabbed the phone to reset the stopwatch. My foot slipped on the metallic edge. My reflexes prevented me from plastering the pavement just yet. Finally, my heart had the decency to skip a beat. So it did actually oppose Aya being all over the street. Curious.
The flashing lights were stationary, directly below the building. Someone must’ve seen me. Unlikely. The cars were smaller than my fingernail, a human hardly larger than a speck of dust. For all of my otherworldly qualities – shining in the dark wasn’t on the list, especially not in the midnight purple wool hoodie. So how did they see me?
I retreated from the edge, rushed down to my condo, grabbed my wallet, ran out of the door, and kept running until the closed elevator door wrapped up my unforeseen cardio session. I intended to run the Physical Optimization Sequence anyway, confronting the onlooker problem head-on before the jog, saving myself from a press conference tomorrow.
I concluded that pale lavender, like my hair, would work well with the vibrant pink of the worms during the descent. A black frame around the composition seemed like a lovely finishing touch too. The commotion in front of the luxury complex I called home grew louder as the silver doors slid open – a less than pleasant frequency distracting me from deciding on the final track-list.
Guttural male voices oscillated between cries and yells, interrupted by pleas and some meaty sounds I couldn’t quite decipher. I had a feeling this wasn’t about me. Unless… a group of fans decided to fight over the privilege to rescue me from myself.
The crowd on the blue-lit street didn’t look like a threat to my agency when I approached – not even a glance in my direction. The headliners were two middle-aged men with no discernible features but their bloodied noses. Their long coats in the homeless-green variant were rather vibrant though – fusing comfort to functionality, with a touch of an effortless aesthetic designers spent weeks to figure out. The broken pipe on the asphalt was a bold statement piece too; judging by the state of affairs, not too high on the functionality scale though.
Four police officers in the usual black uniforms with thin purple stripes kicked and insulted the two men as the growing crowd cheered on. Some threw a few barbs for good measure. One particularly livid fellow in a long, navy parka even got a kick in, hitting the black boot of one of the officers and losing his balance in the process. I couldn’t judge him – choreography was an underestimated skill, and excitement can never replace practice.
The desire to cheer bubbled in my chest too. The unyielding pleading and shaky movements of the two men were remarkable. So visceral! So naked and real, I caught myself skipping breaths. Their bulging eyes vibrated with an unfettered ambition to live, as if surviving the next minute could imbue their existence with meaning. Was fear the magic ingredient to capture truths beyond words?
Their determination was no match for force though. Both collapsed to the ground at the same time. A whiff of disappointment ghosted through the crowd. An unavoidable element of any performance. As much as audiences loved resolutions, they hated endings. As usual, it fell to me to give everyone what they wanted. Blasé negligee… no, noblesse oblige?
I used my high larynx voice to get their attention. Gasps and cheers intensified as more and more people recognized they were blessed by my grace. The police officers stopped dead in their movements.
The oldest looking one put his boot on the man’s neck and gave me an apologetic nod. His uniform was so tight, his thighs risked bursting out. The show was over. The criminals would get transported to Corrective Opportunity Centers, he explained to me as if talking to a curious child. Pride reverberated in his throaty voice as he elucidated the entire procedure in all its exhausting glory.
The lecture was full of lovely multisyllabic words of which none appeared too useful – civic contribution did rhyme with revolution, but it wasn’t a combination I could work with.
My smile gave him the approval he needed. It shut him up too for a second. I thanked him for keeping the city safe before the lecture continued. My promise to sign his shirt, baton and their car gave me the leverage I wanted.
Wasting my Physical Optimization Sequence slot on a street performance complicated everything. An unpleasant sensation pulsated under my temples. Replacing the Temporary Rejuvenation Period with an activity not serving rejuvenation by any stretch wasn’t right. My breaths came out faster against the cold air. I definitely couldn’t frame it under the coming Nutritional Intake Block, had I condemned my schedule by accident?
The implication was laughable. Mistakes were for mortals, my choice simply surpassed my predictions. I tested my stiffened legs with a turn towards the crowd. The echoes of my name stopped when I rewarded their persistence with a cute little bow and an awkward chuckle. Nothing seemed to nauseate people more than perfection, so it seemed only prudent to present them with a relatable Aya, resembling their own weakness and insignificance.
As much as I looked forward to the moment their admiration would burst into scorn, I hadn’t quite mapped out the path on which it would produce an empowering result. A peak too tall doesn’t motivate most to climb it, right? Hatred probably wasn’t the most sustainable fuel either. Maybe it really was down to fear. The two men trying to stand up did look positively terrified indeed. Still brimming with life like a… quite disturbing but not many words seemed to rhyme well with it.
The police justified their existence by dispersing the crowds. Naturally they skipped protocol and let me have my study subject without the tiresome and time-consuming process of buying them out of a freedom camp. Sadly they confiscated the statement piece as a weapon. I should’ve insisted on transportation too – it seemed not very probable that my new assets had a car and I wasn’t about to turn my home into a meeting room.
“Ma’am… I’m eternally grateful but what did you mean by hiring us?”
The shorter one had quite a low pitch with a significant amount of nasal resonance. Not totally grating but in dire need of refinement. I decided to use my talking voice – a dark mezzo soprano – supposedly too heavy for a girl of my proportions as a classmate informed me in less flattering terms. Some teachers corrected the explicit version and suggested to label me a howler monkey – sending my producer to the jungles to obtain a sample might’ve been a little excessive on my part.
“I believe the definition includes employment for wages?”
Both stared at me as if I suggested to execute them on the spot. This… wasn’t exactly the expected reaction… maybe, I was capable of mistakes after all.
“Do you require medical attention?”
It seemed like a perfectly reasonable, inoffensive question but both shook their heads so rapidly as if I just threatened to neuter them. Were there people who spoke another language? No… I did understand them, they had to understand what I was saying too. Was it the tone? My facial expression? My hand hovered toward my nose… a bit too short, a bit too thick but it wasn’t monstrous. My thin lips didn’t justify the reaction either. Clearly it wasn’t my height – I barely reached their shoulders. Something was very wrong. Did I turn insane already?
“Very well, then I suggest we find a hotel and start drafting the contract.”
“Lady, my heartfelt thanks,” said the slightly taller man. Even their voices sounded eerily similar, although his was less nasal. “But who are you and what do you want?”
What have I done. A bright laughter escaped my throat. Then the vibration in my pants pocket reminded me that it was time for the Nutritional Intake Block. Perfect, really. People liked eating. They connect over meals too; and with no hotel in walking distance to book a conference room, a restaurant would have to do. I would make it work.
