Tetra-Phi 5 News
Reporter: Alucia Touchbase
A:Charles, is it?
C:Char-els. There is a pause for breath.
A:Apologies.
C:None needed. Your question?
A:You are Truckee Dumpstar's right-hand, are you not. Any comment on his recent disappearance.
C:He is the final preparations for the Race of the Ancients. The finish line reveal is about to happen, and he is working on the finishing touches on Torch.
A:I am aware of his itinerary, but no one has seen him on Torch.
C:It wouldn't really be a secret if he was making press conferences about it.
A:I'm ice with that, however, there are reports of the Jewel being stolen. Is that true?
C:The Jewel is where Truckee wants it to be, I have absolutely no control over my employer. I really must go, the next press event is nearly started.
A:Thank you for your time.
C:Sure.
Torch is a colony at the edge of important space. A huge series of metal disks using giant gravlifters for gravity control in a system too complex to be at all interesting to explain. A meandering mass of metal and clear habitation tubes and orbs are placed in the centers, and across the gulfs between these disks. It looks like several different angles of the planet Saturn made into a diorama and then shoved into each other and connected with clear tubing. The station orbits a gas giant in a system filled with them. Smaller stations mine fuel from the planets, including two orbiting Torch’s planet. Overall the system is home to about a billion, all without a habitable planet. Torch itself houses about six hundred million. It is home of one of the smaller Federali installations, as there are quite large ones at the stations one jump into the Sprawl. Protect the Central7 by keeping any trouble out of the area to begin with.
Federali control over travel and mobile colonies gets sketchy after Torch, but until recently was somewhat problematic even here. Gangs had been setting up shop, first legally though this and that sort of business, but then the filth spilled out of their shipments. Drugs, illegal hacks, illegal mods, prostitution, child labor, violent tempered gambling and robbery. The Federalis honestly had better things to do, until gangs like Iced Mocha’s started getting so flagrant that a crackdown became necessary. The Colonial Government, the planetary GovPlex coalition, had pressured them into action, and they had scrubbed Torch clean. Well, as clean as it is ever likely to get. Still, with all that said, it is one of the busiest hubs in known space, due to its placement it is the major LaGrange point for ‘shooting the moon’, or going from one side of the Central7 to the other (which for those paying attention would include at least one stop in the Sprawl, usually either at the luxuriously disgusting Hess, or the equally palatious shithole at Checktiza).
Last Chance and Cirrhosis Induction walk off their transport shuttle into the main atrium of the colony’s northern dock. The atrium is a huge expanse under a metal girdered dome, with tubes leading out to spindles where the ships dock. People milling here and there, small huts selling various foods surrounded with small black tables filled with tired travelers from practically everywhere.
“You have a hotel here, or...?” Last asks as they push through the crowd looking for the luggage claim.
“Huh… I guess I never even thought of that, just larked out here. Where are you staying?” Cirrhosis manages to get his eButler to find the terminal’s baggage claim, and grabs Last’s hand as he hooks left at a noodle bowl stand.
“Well, I mean…” Last blushes, Cirrhosis looks over his shoulder for a second.
“No. Like I’ll get my own room at the same hotel.” Cirrhosis smirks, never having thought of Last Chance as the kind of girl who would get flustered at sharing a hotel room.
“Oh. Oh, okay. Yeah. I am staying at the Jukka Grand, it is probably like a mile from here or something. There is a tube shuttle.”
“Are we recording still?”
“Oh yeah, since we started on that boat.”
“So you got like five hours of me sleeping.”
“You were cute.”
“Thanks, and I imagine my mouth was like-“
“Wide open, yes. “ She giggles.
“Luggage terminal! Turn here.” Grabs her hand harder and pulls her around a big family lumbering slowly under the weight of children and the shit children always seem to need taken with them everywhere. Stroller, vid screen (no wetwiring til you’re ten, young man!), bottles of misc fluids (got to stay hydrated), sandwiches wrapped in holo-printed cellophane (get’s them to eat their vegetables), action figures of the latest action hero/racer/prostitute-crimelord, a sweater or three, a fresh change of fucking whatever. Last is laughing pretty hard, mostly at how embarrassed Cirrhosis looks, the rest by the dirty look he gets from the woman pushing the stroller (What? Too fucking busy to sign an autograph? What are you, Jesus?). He sort of storms off, letting go of her hand, miffed that his most private moments are being broadcast all over, tarnishing his stoic image. Or maybe that isn’t it, is it personal?
“Okay! Slow down! If I lose you here, there is no way I'll find you.” She smiles at the woman, whilst giving her the middle-finger, and runs off after Cirrhosis.
Baggage finally in hand, and tempers unflared, Last and Cirrhosis arrive at the hotel. Last heads up to her room first, letting Cirrhosis handle his reservations while she switches into a night look. Cirrhosis knocks on the door to her room just as she is finished matting her hair into its normal situation.
“Hey.” She says as she opens the door. He is wearing a nicely fitted suit, dark with a blue shirt with no tie. Sets off his eyes, she notices. Someone has a stylist. He’s smiling while looking at his feet, embarrassed?
“Hey.” He grunts back. She kisses him on the cheek, and he brightens up.
“Did you find somewhere to eat?”
“Yeah. There is a nice place near the river.”
“Oh cute! What kind of food?”
“It’s a surprise. We should walk there.”
“Okay.” She giggles, and grabs his hand as they exit the elevator. A short walk through some shops and a bar, and they are on the street. Their hotel exits to a wide pedestrian mall lined with hotels and their first floor shops and bars. A soft glow infuses everything, and the station is angled so that about half of the sky is the planet below, a huge swirling red ball. A torch in the night sky. The air is sweet smelling, the result of the blooming of a low hanging tree with spiraling blue flowers (native to Orion) which is planted evenly along the boardwalk. A light bit of music is being played at a park nearby, something acoustic and up-tempo. People are laughing and walking slowly, everyone is on vacation at this time of night, or in another part of town.
“This place is really romantic isn’t it?” She nudges him with her shoulder, and he puts his arm around her as they walk through the sparse crowd of the mall. A gentle breeze blows down the way, and Cirrhosis can’t help but agree, even if she is only saying it for the people on ansible. A relaxing way to spend an evening for sure, almost relaxing enough to make him forget that he has a meeting with the board of Suzaku’s in the morning. Luckily he packed his uniform in case they ask for a vid-op.
Then it’s probably time to check on his gang ties. Code Name probably isn’t here, but the people who know where he is probably are. Someone is going to have to fence that fucking stone, and with it being as hot as it is (Cirrhosis saw that it’s all over the World now, and there was that agent) that is going to require large sway to handle. Destiny shouldn’t have that kind of pull or the hackers capable of producing it, so they are going to be making deals. Any sale big enough to be the Jewel is going to be intensely scrutinized by Federalis, so those deals are going to be extremely DL. Cirrhosis probably won’t get more than a direction to look in, as his ties to Toro are well known to anyone with even a brain cell left firing. Most likely it is either an inside job, or one of the bigger g
angs out of Dub-X are handling the sale.
“Where are we going? There are not a lot of stores now…” Last sort of murmurs, looking around wide-eyed, taking in the scene.
“Oh. Right. It’s uh, looks like it’s down that street to the left just a bit more.” Cirrhosis stutters as he checks his directions, he had picked a more scenic route before, but having zoned out for a few too many steps, they’ll have to take a boring one. The backs of two hotels butt up to them as they stroll through a pretty sizeable group of miscellaneous drunks and guardianless children. A shop is on the right side of the street, seeming to be where the drunks are from, a convenience store slash bar slash restaurant. About half a block more, and they turn the corner to see a beautiful restaurant dangling languidly over the river on its own dock. A long flat building with thin pillars trailing into the water below, its roof a mass of tangled ivy and underbrush with bright flowers, some of which glow in the night sky. They stop to look at it for a second, Last doing a panoramic shot of the waterfront. And it is like this that someone pulls out a gun and places it firmly in the back of Cirrhosis’ neck.
“Fancy meeting you here.” The man hisses. Think fast…
“Heh. So you got here before I did, huh? Quit kidding around, you’re scaring my girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend?” Last turns suddenly, seeing the gun she tries to step back. Cirrhosis holds her close. The better to toss her away if it becomes necessary.
“Kidding?” The gunman pulls his gun back, but doesn’t stop pointing it at Cirrhosis. People are starting to get that look in their eyes. The gazelle are flocking away from the dragon’s mouth. Cirrhosis turns and puts himself between Last and the guy. Never seen him before, couldn’t guess the gang based on his outfit. Just wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Well, that and a gun. Probably about twenty or so body wise, judging from his demeanor in public pistolry Cirrhosis would guess he’s on his first refresh at least. Short hair in a very well shaved and angled cut, possibly ex-military. Brown hair, blue eyes, a heavy brow and a thick nose. He’s probably about six-two, cracking two barely, fit but not particularly muscular. No tattoos visible.
“Yeah. Last Chance, this is an old buddy of mine from high school. Last here is working for the Race, live broadcasting her time here on Torch.” Cirrhosis puts his arm around Last, squeezes her a little too tight. Hoping she’ll get it to play this fucking ice. She giggles awkwardly and extends her hand for a shake.
“Say hello to about two billion viewers!” She smiles her best fake smile, which as she is a model (even if she is a slightly low-rent one), looks quite realistic. The man pockets his gun, like literally in his front pocket, and shakes back.
“Armor Trapezium.”
“A pleasure. Cirrhosis didn’t mention we’d get to eat with you tonight, and here I was hoping for a nice candlelit dinner for two.” She pouts and looks at Cirrhosis, her eyes are asking ‘What the fuck is this guy’s deal?’
Cirrhosis shrugs.
“I was just popping by. Making sure Cirrhosis and I are still on for tomorrow.”
“Yeah. By the fountain in the center of town, say about three pm?” Cirrhosis assumes his deal with Suzaku will be done by then, and the fountain is the single biggest tourist point in this habitat. Lots of people mean that their meeting will be more meet less –ing. Shoot-ing.
“It’s a date. Pleasure meeting you.” Armor sort of nods his head at Cirrhosis, smiles at the cameras, and walks off. He fades into a crowd like an expert. A hired hit. Things are getting serious.
“Let’s get inside, I don’t want to have to wait too long for a table, and it looks like people are starting to get the idea on this place.” He puts his arm around her firmly, turning them towards the restaurant.
“Who the fuck was that?”
“Fuck if I know. I’ll meet with him tomorrow after my meeting with the board.” He has his eButler do a quick search on the guy. Nothing on the net worth mentioning, but Cirrhosis doesn’t have access to bounty lists like a hunter would. If he did, he’d see that Armor is worth quite a bit dead or alive.
“Shit. And he knows who I am!”
“It’s fine. He also knows that you are recording a live stream to ansible; he won’t try anything on you as long as you stay out of it. I’ll handle him, but if things get dicey I want you to stay VERY public. Go on tours and see lots and lots of places. Never be alone, if you catch my drift.”
“O-okay.” She mutters aloud.
They have to wait in the small front room for about ten minutes for a table, luckily Cirrhosis had made reservations otherwise they would be one of the jackasses waiting an hour and a half for dinner. They get a table right by the water, probably because the reservation was made by a celebrity (which Cirrhosis forgot to factor in). Everyone nearby is half staring at them.
“I completely forgot that everyone here would know me.” He scratches the back of his neck uncomfortably. Everyone else in the restaurant is wearing business casual or worse, he feels morbidly overdressed. Like showing up to International House of Swarms in a ball gown or something.
“How would you even possibly forget that you are a celebrity?”
“I guess I never think about it to begin with?”
“It’s funny how I try everyday to become this big thing, and you ARE one but you don’t seem to care.” Last sort of looks out over the river, not mad, just mystified that her dream could be someone’s life and that would be nothing much to them. Life is weird that way.
“I think that I didn’t explain that right. I mean that I am so used to it. I got so scared at first, people following me, sense recording like everything I say or do. The media criticizing my every movement. You feel like you have to become this perfect version of yourself that never steps off this fine line that the media paints for you. The narrative of your life that is created somewhat by your actions, but mostly by the public’s reactions to those actions and seemingly random occurrences. For a while I really tried to stay the straight and narrow, but it’s just like eventually, you have this moment and it becomes normal after that.”
“Like what moment, exactly?”
“Not when you filmed me sleeping.” Cirrhosis sort of grins, trying to change the subject.
“I’m sorry about that.. but really…” Last doesn’t get it.
“I had just lost my girlfriend in this fire-“
“I remember hearing about that.”
“So you kind of know the story then? I was staying in a cabin for this weird circuit race on Athena IV; this was before the terraforming was completely finished.”
“They have those terrible dust storms there, don’t they?” Last vaguely recalls a direct to download senser about this, but she hadn’t really finished more than half of it. The dust storms stuck out though.
“Yeah. So there was this drought all year, and then the dust storms had taken out travel. We were all camped in these makeshift cabins in the dunes. Me and like sixty racers, judges, stable workers, our horses, and ten media people with full wetrigs.
“Well, someone falls asleep and their fire burns their cabin down. Four people die there. And with the wind, it’s blowing everywhere. My girlfriend gets caught in our cabin. I was out taking a piss. I would have died if not for my fucking small bladder.” He gets a little coughed up here, and takes to looking at the view for a moment. The murmur of the people around them is unnaturally quiet. An audience. He remembers that he is talking to the fucking World at this point. He really needs to work on his short term memory. Too late now, exclusive interview already in progress.
“I’m pissing out behind the stables, and I smell the smoke on the air. I go dash over, and I find… I find Emily helping my roommate out of the tent. He had kind of tangled himself in his sleeping bag trying to escape. Well I guess they had inhalation issues, and I helped, but Emily was bleeding from where this piece of a table had caught her shoulder and th
ere were burns. Fucking hell, my roommate looked like a charred log from the fire. Bits of his sleeping bag were melted into, IN TO his skin. I mean… they were both in this horrible way. I tried to console her once, and bits of her flesh came-“ He coughs, and wipes at his eyes with the back of his arm.
“Okay. So we’re stuck in this storm. This horrible. Horrible, fucking storm. And I know that Emily isn’t going to make it if we can’t get to a hospital. Our medical staff is equipped for horses and horse related injuries. A ripped tendon, hell even a stomping injury could at least be handled, but third degree burns are not do-able.
“So I am dealing with this. With Emily dying slowly before me, this beautiful thing just decaying like one of those videos where you speed up time, just rapid. I see her fading, and I realize something. The media guys, who could be helping us put out the fires, who could be using their enhanced rigs to contact help, were all just recording me. They were recording every moment and word, and subtle gesture I made. When I fucking dry heaved behind our tent, oh you can bet one of them was there. They were literally chronicling my emotional meltdown with this complete detachment to them.”
“That’s horrible. So…” Long pause, Last has to say it, but has no idea of any tactful way to put it. “—she died then?”
“A full day later. Just a full day of heart stomping suffering. I asked one of the guys to flag us a ship, even though they never would have came. I had to try. But he refused. Their bandwidth was for displaying information, but never to be used to cause events. This is a sort of ‘code of the media’ now, to never interfere with an event as it is happening. Supposedly how they were allowed into every city, state and political situation. And I beat the absolute shit out of him until one of our staff doctors had to sedate me.”
“Her chip?” Memory core used for revival of deceased individuals.
“Dusted, completely. Melted out before she died actually. Caused some really painful looking seizures.” Cirrhosis coughs a little, looking out the window with intensely focused determination for a moment, then back at her, but not exactly.
“Wow.” She looks into his eyes, not as a broadcaster, but attempting to connect with him in this moment. He has this complicated look to him now, looking at her but past her. His teeth clenched in anger, reliving that moment in time like it was occurring at this very instant. A vein in his neck pulses out, the hairs on Last’s arms stand on end. His fury is palpable, yet somehow very sad, futile. He pauses a good while, takes a good slug of his water, and calms down. He finally reestablishes eye-contact with Last.
“So about three weeks later, after the funeral’s media three-ring ended, I just sat in my loft and thought about all of it. Really looked at what happened, and I mean the shit was fucked up, but there was nothing that anyone could have done. And I realized, I normalized myself with the fact that the media in its many forms is just this fixture. Not even real people exactly, just place holders and receptacles for wetwire sensivise rigs. Not a part of my life, or your life, but this thing that exists outside of it. An observer to it, someone who can manipulate HOW it is seen, but not directly in any way create or cause news. They give up something to become that too. A reporter can’t be the center of anything without inherently losing that title. Unless you become this show, a spectacle on your own right, but that sort of news is entertainment, not actual palpable reality. To be an event is to not be a reporter of that event, and that means giving up the ability to have anything happen to you ever. To live a life of solitude surrounded by people, just some sort of public exile. Being the chronicler, but having nothing left to show of yourself.
“So I have this like moment where I feel all this stupid shit, and then the next time some guy stares me down, or some chick asks me how thick my cock is, I’m just over it.”
“A reporter seriously asked you that?”
“Yeah, after the funeral. Like directly after, as I was getting into my car.”
“She didn’t ask you how you felt or something?”
“No. All she wanted was girth.”
“Weird.”
“Anyway, that was a really big explanation, but that is why I can completely forget about cameras and just be myself. Well, I guess not exactly myself, but really close.” Cirrhosis sort of smirks awkwardly.
“You just view a world without them in it?”
“Do you specifically notice every chair in this restaurant? I mean, sure, you would notice if there were or were not places to sit in here, but in general this is the same for me. I see cameras, notice existence of, but I don’t really think about them. They just are a part of the shit that is in a room when I get there.”
“Wow.”
“Something like that. Have we ordered yet?”
“I really don’t think so.”
“We should work on that.”
“So. Did you answer her?”
“About what?”
“You know.”
Cirrhosis smirks, “Ha. No, I flipped her the finger and walked off.”
“That sounds right.” Last giggles, he makes a gesture to her. She cuts the feed.
Cirrhosis leans in real close to Last, holding his left hand up and guarding it from the rest of the restaurant. He makes a quick gesture with his right hand.
Last is impressed.