DEAD ERA FOR LAURELS (Unedited demo)

Dead Era of Laurels



Aaron
Daniel
Garcia

22DZ “+'ed”



[8023Æ.M., Heliolopical 4 Lights Gala, Treasury Dept. Offices Annual Fiesta - P1 shows the Black-Steel ‘in-action-clips’ to a transposed A. Dankovsky]
P1 scrolled and stopped midway down the loft's crystalline holostairway, a blue hue fades the posh steps into the background there... There be a 2-helix, doubled, recluse style layered fondly there on her back, black inside a golden brown. Hexagons stacked up her spinal cord. She stood there in a rife stellar suite, B&W, almost a server's jumper, pressing out bright-light, eyes upon all the dreamy - as if she were to carry a tray all of her own.
Her eyes changed colors and then back again, look over the shoulder, synths like styles, heights crowned upon a 'City of Genius': “Ah... Well, let me worry about the payments.” - She caresses on synthing further into regress. She had an eye for the escrow. The billing. All the fun neutronic abstracts and how far you bill in abstract. Build up the biz en-abstract. Dial in like that brown recluse in helix form stamp on her back, looking down her eyes weighed yet upon the weary - like she put on a smile all of her own, all upon the world.
-
It looked bulbous in orbit, fleshy pink, and yes indeed P1 was told it was partly of flesh, the celestial body, like a strange shape of an eardrum. Every 60ft or so dangled a Black-Steel rod tapered to a Black-Steel wire 'all connected to a centrifugal hydraulic junction'. Soft like a wind chime there it hovered over the northern hemisphere when they readied the wicked super. Supposedly it worked like 'a land injection'. The company men dilate the machine over S17.
P1 didn't know exacts of what most of these things meant, but in the distressing clips shown of the thing in previous action, launching thousands upon thousands of thick uber reinforced precision-cut rods within seconds down onto land and sea: it sure done it's piece in her mind.

[8020Æ.M., SEMIODAT 22, Before The Crimson, Outer Aramis Shopping Center]
Singing & whistling heard- While dangling lights overhead out the door, seeing the cold. The ‘ROMI’ cut- 'They say: dream it up.’ That's what they said...
“Smells-” Sakura murmured. Put an index finger to the mouth. Mimic silence. Clutch the fletch closer.
It was a black forceful nighttime. The smell of burning foul, dead android parts that litter & rust in the ground slowly returning to Kipple's bosom. Sand and then a large cavern. Five Hell Feathers jingle down like a wind chime sound, Virgil cries out and smiles a wicked one from deep under.
A familiar smile in The Dark Corners of The Mind. The sound, a zipped-up, blueish, quiet, Western, a wash, a nightmarish frontier.
Northend, O', twas a salary day – a movement of virtual religion, the pious stream out all over, all psycho-sexual loving in the drowned city.
2 pump guns, one in the bag & a uranium six shooter too.
“Get the kid, with the booze ova' 'ere!” A call with the wave of a hand.
Triage rush, the biofiche into the ballistic center. A metal syringe.
[...]
Wrapped in corrugated steal.
Click.
Fat-in-center / Aim that sweet napalm fusion towards East Parish Net, 1/1-Rocket (AKA), outside that illustrious gray tinted Dome. Let it go the full arch this time baby.
Clack. Chkh.
That shotgun flash night into a man's chest. Marked, he spins sideways into death. Some say an artistic bloodbath.
(Seto's point-man, ZIM: “Zero-Two's da 'Borg's namesake, quite imaginative the silly boy-bot. Sigin' Ecto AYE! 'mean'n Illusai, if even you know... Even Archy Cummings laughed at him you know that?”)
Seto on COM: ...
ZIM: ‘And if enough people like him place their disapproval “Well, then you see what happens.”’:

[8020Æ.M., SEMIODAT 22, Before The Crimson, Outer Aramis, La Q Outside Shopping Mall]
After another shell to the back of the braincase, 0-2 lay in a pool of purple, slick silver blood torn up bristled circuits. Bit of red worming around in there. The mock-body shriveled. Sakura shot 0-2 5 times in the back of what was left, she kept it down. They sprinted like scared dogs after. Dropped the guns off of a warf – deep under the outer city dwells - voidscapes - 'A Star' – A dark warf. Surrounding lame spirits, dead nonexistence, surrounding inhabited lame corpses, drowned forgotten air rise up from the lungs in this feted swampland's causeway...
lone mocks, dead ringing inside of their heads mulling around. Our two assailants escape this dead pirates aria. Under the ashlands of The Queen Sainai.
“I am cold.” Sakura shucks her shoulders. They walk along a cold bridge towards the massive green metal gates that hum their triangular passage. A suffering heard from a hell down under.
“We're all cold.”
Seto pulled his eyes out. The Dark Era.
Select Alumn for the wicked. Sakura pulled her hoodie up and shoved her hands deep into the pockets. Sakura remembers her Prime-School Fiance, and asks her to marry via a grade-line around a copied giraffe's neck. It was quite cute, and she adored it more that anything down in that geofront. 3 yrs later, a trip with their families had her spinning with a renewal of their love, when he fell into a river as they walked along the two in hand, and she remembers losing his grip. She lost him. And his body was found in a nearby dam, tangled up, the sprockets mangled, him a pasty white. She spun around and dropped to her knees in horror when she saw the dolly's fish him up.
And next… The only one left who knew of his Earthen secrets:
SCV1.

[8020Æ.M., Astredean Starship Pepper, Gazing Out Towards Inner SEMIODAT System]
“Touching is bad.” SCV says to Seto. His hologram slightly hissed. Though... She did want me to smile? ...And so, I hissed.
“What are you doing?” He asked her, in genuine curiosity.
Photon down the darklight. The light of the Pod's capsule bay sent a circular reflection of light, cast upon the digital blueprint fed from the arc. It glared into both of their eyes, Seto shut his lids quickly, throwing up his hands.
“It's a shame though, it's a shame. Always something about snakes, something primordial. Ribonucleic. Everytime I do this…” Probing through the deepest-anchor.
Sentient. It's a guile program. Circa 7937Æ.M. Planarium Recreate. 'Unexpected menstrual cycle, this one (interject experiment) again' SCV then rolled her eyes.
Then in her own voice:
I will cremate her.
She talks about hearing water...
“Drip, Drip. Can you hear water? Dripping in the ocean? Deep down there – Out There – in The Adolescence?”
“Drip, Drip.” SCV says softly once more...
'Drip, Drip.'

[8023Æ.M., SEMIODAT Heliolopical Treasury Office]
“The Revival. Of some Great Machine? Annex 57, A'Paraiso, A new 'Western City' using that Semio-Tech... We surely can revive...” Alex stopped mid way, looking up with only his lids. He sorted through suit colours shirtless.
“Semio-Tech?” P1 thought out loud. “Wasn't that 'Great Machine' Planarian...? Who said?” P1 was looking up all relevant data. She was already in fine silks and the gift was her Das'Fine mock belly, up silver and coldly warm.
“Semio-Tech?” Alex looked up and asked.
“Semio-tech?” P1 mocked, secretly asking genuine again.
“It can still be done.” Rachel of T.W.V., on a quad-stand in the middle of the room radioed in. “We'll get it started.” She ordered and then left the quad. The blue shade dissipated in numbered paragraphs of Great Machines to come. Rachel had been snarky to P1 on that last part on the cosmic sleazy, like if she was the only one on her way out...
Flowery, P1 smiled that melancholic decode at Alex that synthed all mock on her face vines dripping down lush of life.
“When I was sixteen...” Alex said, leaned up on the cross stair helix in pattern, shirt off in hubris that his types of Dandy's define.

[8020Æ.M., SEMIODAT 22, Aramis North Camp IASC ‘The Glass Tent.’]
...Which my father pleaded me to try and enjoy...
...What I did, I enjoy...
My cigar had stopped smoking between my fingers. I tossed it into the large tapered ashtray.
“You were inside for 10 years.. 4 years... Vanderm, for that narcotics, jeez kid I remember that now... I know your family name... Look son...” The Major took his glasses off, which were prescription Naylon sunglasses, he had the top part of the lens slightly darkened with a black-purple hue. “This is all part of my paperwork. I'm just trying to figure why you're here. And I know you signed on... Look, now you’re real flesh and blood and I can't put you on the front lines with the Tele's.” I stared at him. “Why in heaven would you want to be here, be in this place?.” He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a messenger bag. And inside it he pulled out a folder and sorted through that till he found a special pad that he liked. “Now look I can write you a transfer here just me and you now, where do you want to go? A detail son.” He looked up at me. He was serious.
“But you still have details down there. Their planet is not all lost.”
“How many days have you been on-detail without directly contacting me son?”
“I apologize sir. The ship landed near three days ago, but the lieutenant of the ship said we had to wait and so we did. All I heard was the rumors that half the planet is... Half started...” The Major sat back, hands behind his head. He then shot up and looked around, crazed and paranoid. He wiped his eyes. He didn't want me here. He seemed to calm somewhat after a time. Before I started the conversation with him, he had said something to the effect of 'this ain't a place for no decent man or woman...'
“Well, it shows you got a smart eye for setting up ambushes, and a spiral eye. I don’t trust ‘said company’s’ experience, and under 5 years... I can put you on the Arts Festival when it happens, security. They're crazy enough to think they'll save this part of the world still... Until then You'll be under Gregg's and Cheserto.” The Major tinkered at his special notepad once more. I saluted the Major and made my way towards the deport station. The Commandant there gave me my station and I sat in the drop ship for 14 hours till departure.

[8020Æ.M., SEMIODAT 22, Aramis Hospital 1]
1.1 in Triage. Cops & doughnuts munch outside. I enter the room. Slide in with black seance. He isn't dead but his wife tells me the doctor tells her he wont be regaining conscious. So lonely his tiny wife dangling off his pale wrist.
“God!” He remembered himself saying out loud. How could a man live like this...
So Utterly alone.
Seto immediately went inside and took his time using the restroom, ringing off his hands he reached for the dispenser. Ask for a paper hand-towel he could chute later.
He was looking at himself and by death, a semi-groomed lonely face. Red rings around the eyes. For his friend in ICU, but mostly the black hole he saw directly in front of him.
The Dark Corners.
Albeit the annoying HOLLO's in the MOD28, but ho! That was an excuse. And then again, why so alone?
Alone from women. Any real connection. Wrong?
'Drip... I can heard The Adolescence. Cant you aye?' SCV would playfully ask. Calling from some bedroom, pushing up the silvery silks with both hands, letting them drift down upon her. Lights refracting from the windows, and still, how long or real ago was this? Pink and light green, blue and light gray eventually punctuate the room & I dare say that was the theme of this flat. The C.B.D. Digs everyone seems to love and congregate at even though they were told not to be there If Seto was not there. Always charming the guard & caretakers, Seto's “Friends.” – Or that's what they call themselves when uninvited, coming and staying at the flat. Over & over they do this, these 'Friends of Ours.' Maybe they thought Seto was a push over, twas a welcoming place, a safe house turned into a damn flop-den. Seto's shook his head because it was his fault. The Rats! He'd kill the next interloper, he thought to himself. Whomever was no longer the issue, the message now simply had to be sent.
“You in there a bit longer Alfred?” Miko squeaked through the door. Seto wiped off his face and put some water in his hair. When he walked out, she strangely ran her hands through his hair, as if fixing his grooming.
“Sorry M-... I... Got lost in there.” an admission. She looked at him and smiled the best she could and then gave him a tiny hug, her face red from tears.
“Oh... Happens...” She exhaled deep on that one. “I'll tell him you stopped by with the V.”
“Sure...” Suddenly there was a large definitive sexual tension in the room. It shocked Seto so quickly. They could smell it on each other – Their eyes shoot away. Seto, looking at the tube in Miko's husbands throat. The disadvantage of being 99% Being frank, laying there ICU, he looked fucking terrible- dying. Seto turned and walked out of that tense zone... in search of the charge nurse.
...
(I can hear The Adolescence.)
Distant sounds of underwater waves, pushing and pulling ruby 'RAZ' straights.

P1 was Seto's current interloper at'a 1-3 Central Business District. Looking at her face by pulling up the security feed on Quad.
While waiting for the C.N, She took her time, lounging. He didn't dare glance back at the security feed but he could get to C.B.D. In time. Booked the tug atop this very Hospital / Hotel & Casino.







23rd Annual Arts Festival


[8020Æ.M. Aramis Hospital 1]
“Ah.” The borg was offish. Eyes unblinking with that prosthetic green, piss-yellow hue. His eyes lowered showing false distaste as the glow sets upon Seto unwinding out of the heli.
“No.” Seto told him. Shaking his head. Seto started to walk off the tugpad while using his MOD to link him with Sakura's quadstone. She usually never answered. Always calling back within 2-10 minutes. Seto thought it was because she liked to use video instead of just audio whenever it was applicable to her. She liked to tease the boys and she knew how to get it out of them, Including Seto-
“OY!” The man shouted at Seto's turned back. 8:38 PM, Aramis City, Terran XXI, under what seems like marshal law from the IASC, the only bit of galactic gov'ment still on this falling rock. Aramis was a ritzy city, lotta posh art mougles and such make the city look good and semi-natural, what's left of it all anyhow. Real 'next of crime' but now the NAT-GUARD was gearing up all across the last small tropical continent. This was quickly becoming the last stand, and all of the ritz already jettisoned off this stone with their fancy rockets and massive artificial habitat cylinders. Seto had tried to cheat the man... no, he just didn't want to pay ¥35 for the ride. He checked the man at ¥25 with +¥3 tip. He had no trouble beginning the long walk down the stairwell. Sakura did not answer.
Seto hated video calls on the MOD because walking with someones video in his eyesight, no matter how small he made, it was too distracting and sometimes made him feel imbalanced.

[8020Æ.M. Outer Aramis, IASC3 Barrack, On Site]
Sakura was resting against the wall in the women's barracks with Cora awaiting for a tap saying she's a go and 'what'n where'. She was avoiding Elias and his pathetic, very stiff... She held her head, she should never have gotten drunk with him... She slowly got up and decided to visit The Dancer in her personal shed. Seto would be around soon with some recruits from The Heliopolis. She'd have to break them in she assumed as they were straight from off world, nary a hint of real combat under their nails, and the rest only too traumatized by the killing – The Idea of God, what a ghastly name... for a place she never would go, but hey a dream is a dream...
Her last outing with Gregg's, Marcus, BC Cora and Cheserto landed her in a swampy, lagoon like area just so N.W. of Aramis. God it was a hamlet gone awry, whatever hellish stratagem the Planar had unleashed on these poor fishing folk sure mutated their DNA violently.
Dim, they quietly walked into this village, from the only feasible entrance way, which was a straight shot through a rocky creek. You watched your footing on the algae. The hamlet itself was built up on all sides in the middle of a lake, so it extended down into, from a large embankment to the left, muddy, there was no way IASC’d waste time going that direction...
It was eerily, Sakura thought, like an Altar, this pathway. The rocks underfoot slightly glowed. There were skulls on pikes, gutted corpses of the natives crucified upside down. The burning remains a smell so foul. All the unit covered from head to toe in wet-camo.
Recon was Cheserto's objective. And so as the teams make their way into the hamlet, always 2-3 inches of water splashing underfoot in this strange dusk settling. Watch your step she muses a serine call. A dried corpse, mutated, grotesque, hanging upside down at the entrance to the beloved estuary.
From there, all of it was fierce and bloody. What these men and women had been mutated into made Sakura sick. They practically razed the hamlet when it was all over.
Gregg's tossing wire-nades and frags into most all the houses. Smoke billowed as the wilting beings they had become tried to attack them. The stink. Stick wire-nade to a floorboard and pull the wire connected to a fish hook down below a step up into the cottage, the things weren't so bright the wires lashed them in that unwinding sound and lacerated their mutated marrow into almost smoke and ash. Really dangerous those wire-bombs. They just hid in their houses when not attacking with spears. Toss a wire-bomb into houses with little-known & crazed foes and you get a razed little village sooner. The carnage wasn't as bad this time. But it never leaves her, and you got to drug it away:
Sakura, there on her single in the 20 women barrack [C7&4MF: Ranked Women Barack 14-30*], sitting down pulling up some long thigh high socks- they were checkered bright red and black in that mod-goth look Sakura always went for. Space-goth. The dark eyeliner around the eyes, the rosey cheeks. The hip leather boots. Short skirts and tight fit print t-shirts, though, of course fantasies afly- Sakura was a contractor, her dreams made it as far as the nice socks, it went into her sexy, worn, matte-gray thigh high combat boots, and the rest her dark shinobi shozoku.
“I think I might join the army after my contract.” BC Cora said synthtone.
“Why huh?” Sakura asked. She floated about the room round the question devious. Cora slightly getting ready everso slowly into her Mock khaki-tan Language RN StellarSuit. Expensive equipment indeed. Cora carried one of those single charge laser pistols. And her main arm was a double-barrel shotgun she somehow TEC a high-grade military silencer that somehow extended its range- the thing was menassing looking. She was a sneaky mock on the battlefield. Always using those winding, spring-action barbwire bombs. She would also drink these strange potions that made her move slow, but her assailants attacks, magical or otherwise, seemed to bounce right off of her. Confusing her enemy while ending them quickly - or on occasion when hand-to-hand suited the situation, finished them off with a short Byzantium styled sword imbued with a lightning crest (++-circuit) she kept on her right forearm very well concealed.
“I just want benefits. Contracting... Seto talked me into it and I regret following him now, more and more uhm... I envy Gregg's in some ways of financial security, I come from The Heliopolis, higher and higher. I mean, I understand the clause of soldires work. It just would be nice to be enrolled in some official insurances rather than a bit more cash.”
“What about your BC status?” Sakura goes ahead and brushes her bangs left.
“Ran out in 3131.” Cora was snorting these strange pen AMP -CINES. Sakura didn't know what was in them, assumed estrogen boost and antihistamines, but they had you remove the tip and shake the clear/yellow shit inside till it coalesced and you sniffed it... Cora already had three of them and another readied in her hand. They litered the floor underneath her feet.
“I didn't know that happened to Mocks. Er, Andy's.”
“Sure does, if you got no insurances. Or owner. Unlike flesh and blood, we don't get help on the street. Our circuts die and maybe some mad techprof will take our husk and rejuvinate it and we'll LIVE AGAIN. Somthin' we call, All Night Long.” Sakura saw her drawl in-point. She couldn't disagree. Gregg's was also 99%, he had great benefits. Needed in as much as he could obtain, anyhow. Sakura smiled and laughed inside herself at that remark.
“Yea... Yeah... Sounds like... Yeah...” Sakura, come on and be genuine with for once. Sakura closed her eyes and saw on the MOD Seto had called. She waited. Decided, oh deciding-
Before that strange delve into the northern swamps she saw three IASC Officers try to pull a Restorer Tank (some call them Shocker's) out of a sandy gully with an wench and there was an IED underside of it they somehow never saw and then unfortunately triggered that moment the Shocker started to roll with the wench. so it blew them all up to dirt right in her eyes lateral line. Gazing at the plume, she turned to look at Gregg's was about 30ft behind and was looking directly in her eyeline, a big piece of the shocker spining dirt and dust until finally landing with a large metal clang. Slightly, atop and to the left.
“You don't understand do you?” Cora asked, bending backwards aligning herself.
“No, I mean. I do.” But-
“I'm aware you’re ex-. I've seen two systems fall now, Sakura. And i've heard of seven more. And I know you came with Seto and The Dancer, they put you up to it, with as good intention as Seto could ever hope to achieve his black heart...I'm sorry It's just been on my mind a lot.”
“They did not put me up to anything!” Sakura looked at the Mock hard then. Her silver coating, her soft humming voice, the dim nanomechanical sounds when she breathes. Cora must be 14%. she bleeds silvery white'n purple gauges.
“But you've even told me yourself you were with them since before the contracting.”
“Well. Yes... Look, what does my knowing Seto have to do with what you're talking about?”
“I hooked... I think I might join the army, enlist full time. The Planar are ruthless.” She says it again. Cora could use a Puff Pill.
Unseen and ruthless. Unseen like that bomb underneath the tank down in the ditch. Unseen, far from view like the dead lost in The Adolecence. 'Ooh, Cora has never talked like this.'
“I never seen you like this.”
The BC turned and looked towards Sakura, a slightly confused yet horrified look, but not at her, at some ghostly visage behind. And Sakura remembered it then like psychedelic droppings of strange drugs, fading into ascewed view.
There was this strange totem in sort of the washed out center of that village. It was “Posed” as some put it and all the others seemed to circle around it, to hold up its deathly esteem. It was a torso of a man, viciously torn from the lungs up, it was hard to tell, and of what could have done that. The organs dangled from it, stuffed with the weeds and grasses of the area. Sticks to hold its appendages up so harsh. His eyes and brain were plucked out and replaced with more grass, like they had draped him in some ghoulish suit. The torso was placed on the cross of branches and found in the sand. It was like a strange becon some of the blind used. So dark possessed magic they wrote upon the totem, and all of them who saw looked away until Cherserto brought it amongst himself to tear it town in a fit of rage and terror. Almost vomiting. They had hardly said a personnel word to each other after that. Even Sakura and The Dancer had not said a word in edgewise. Sakura remembered it too, and now only seeing her Sister Mock still thought of the ghastly scene bewildered in the pasts deluge.
Now the difference was unfolding. Sakura was a contractor, and Cora was watching her own civilization fall with eyes only too wide.

[cut to refrain: The Dancer's]

Sandstorm(s) brew outside as Sakura entered the yellow zip-flap, took off her SPC-mask to breathe the inside air-filter. She swishes her hair, runs her fingers through it gracefully. Sakura hasn't had the time to highlight her hair blonde since she got on-world.
The Dancer walks nimble. She has a milky brown hue to her pigmentation. Sakura assumes The Dancer is a mock or a machine, but she could never be sure in all this time. Eyes open up from the bottom, ground looking up, a popping sound in heard in the back of your neck CYB-link [CLICK] - ...Sakura doesn't know her name, yet she is most likely the best friend she has ever made since her distant, almost dreamlike childhood. Sakura had met Seto outside of a club one night, much later she had decided it was a mistake on her part to follow and befriend him. He talked so highly then... Like as if he always was just about to bloom. She wanted to be an engineer, she was even enrolled at a vocation school at the time, TPA.
“Just ask! Prude!” Seto mocked her over a penned tobacco, cheaply rolled with the leaf. Sakura always thought it rude to ask of a persons past, even when she had become 'close' to them in her cyber-eye. She would just wait until the person asked why she hadn't brought it up, or just would start talking freely usually over drinks. Or on the rare occasion, when people would talk real deep with her simply or if they were heavily drunk, and all would be exposed. She saw it as a fault of hers.
A slick, sly deluge fox of her century. The Dancer wore a Naken Stellar A/R suite. A skintight silvery navy blue with a golden visor to block our the rays and blind others looking straight at it. A sophisticated piece of tech Sakura assumed she bought from the money she acquired 'Dancing.' Sakura had seen The Dancer Dance here and on other worlds, she was V popular, she made a lot of money doing it. Sakura always wondered if she ever had sex for money, she wanted to know so badly but could never come right out and ask. Fear of losing a friend.
“I got these for you.” The Dancer smiled and said to her as Sakura sat down at a small table in the small white fortified tent. “Cold armor and prideless cowls” - Her fathers belting hand. That phrase he would always say, her so young, him so drunk and violent twisting, when his mind most went to his past in the war. The Dancer handed her a nice workbook, unwritten.
“Holy shit.” Sakura mused then. Out cold to the wonderment's out on The Bay on Inzmont.
“What?” they both, The Dancer and Eli chimed simultaneously.
“My... Family...” Sakura asked the question out loud but then went into herself, like as if each special soldier in each loving war had to come to terms with his/her formality. Some would never even think to be lucky enough to get on another exiting shuttle. Some were lucky enough for boots. The Dancer saw this and made no verbal reply. Eli said something to Sakura in a hopeful pseudo-comfort but it was not reassuring even though the boy desperately tried to be so. He touched her shoulder and his fingers were cold. Eli and Sakura made love one night almost a fortnight ago, it was a mistake. Eli was infatuated with her ever since that drunken, Black Box fueled night in her corner, with a squirreled Eli like he invite himself on the debauchery night clean and smiling: She could not get him off of her. He was on the verge of being a creep, she knew she was always on his mind and she would see him everywhere (and yes they work together, but now evermore so), and Sakura trying to be calm and keen still regretted ever laying those drug-lust filled eyes upon him that night in that large tavern. And yes deep down sullen and disgraceful she wanted that attention and craved that attention that anybody in such a torn place where litter water ran could still find the time to think her beautiful and more over wanted; desire was at the same sime so hidden yet so powerful.
The Dancer seemed to mediate... Though Sakura suspected The Dancer, who also claimed to be a hollow-call-mock in her spare, languished in the money of many a wayward soldiers desires. A beautiful woman yes, desirable and Sakura could never tell if she was joking and still never ask for the truth.
“I brought the fresh banana's and tapioca. And the crackers as well.” Eli said to The Dancer. It was to be some kind of delicacy to welcome the new flesh. Sakura was bringing gin, vermouth and a pot of marinara linguine with chicken cutlets fried in lemon creme sauce.
“Lets prep.” The Dancer strides, lighting a cig sexy, the line of her form a delicate stream. Eli eyed Sakura the whole prep. She decided to check Seto's VR MSG while helping with the cooking. Cora brought rice, beans, and fish. They sent Gregg's to get the extras on the list. Mostly snacks, beer and drinks.

[Seto's Vision as he walks down 5 stairs with a rail on the left, and tents all around him]

(countless upgrades to his dated MODXVII plastered in the right corner with a orient vibrato naming off all the augs and upgrades. The center itself is green and blue, it switches around in different light settings. It shows two cross hairs and one in the center if he wanted to dial in the focus. A ticker on the bottom always displayed his stock handles and things he and ZIM thought interesting and good to invest. HOLLO's of the actual Art Festival. 23rd. It was a very elaborate HOLLO's, folding and enfolding strange geometric timing. Constant static in the virtual, always plugged into the virtual. Play calming music. Play orchestral music made by those robo-tones. He liked audio-books whenever possible, so those were always on queue. As well as the channel he had with his crew, and then the whole channel under Cheserto. A few extra lines that he rarely used but kept up.

There was a 6hr old tap from Ecto:
“Big feed hey, sharp-eyes. You gonna stay on that doomed little rock much longer? I got a ship waiting for you here at the Cone. We could leave all this. Is the army really giving you what you really want? What I can give you.”

All you saw on the recording was her smiling face, tantalizing Seto with her curves, her body-line – black only green-lit screen. Seto had successfully gotten away from her and Illusai for almost 20 years now. He always felt like he would return, like that life, he was too hooked on it, and it scared him. He scratched his chin and he knew it was only a matter of time... He knew to much, owed Ecto too much, he was just too close and loved it... Ecto said this was his pilgrimage back to her feet. She had a talented way to make everything seem ugly.
He went into the channel with Cheserto.
'You almost here?' Cheserto asked.
'I'm here. Are the off-worlders here yet?'
'little more then half an hour. Meet me at my quarters with your 2nd. If you can find Gregg's get him here too I can't get ahold of him.'
'Right.' Seto left. A HOLLO's bulletin opened suggestively a special all weekend at the Red Lamp River - calling all soldiers and contractors: Fair prices, Fair discounts!
He saw Sakura so close to his physical vicinity now by radar, he'd rather just talk with her then go over the countless taps they send to each other, yet never bother reading or listening or answering. It was a listless way to show you care... Maybe I thought, was it? She knows I care. I care...)

“Hey Seto.” The Dancer mused. I smiled at her standing in the entrance. “Sakura we've got to go meet Cheserto now. We'll be back with the new blood people.” Sakura put down what she was doing / explained it all to Cora, what to do with the chicken in the oven and then pasta. As Sakura walked out I saw Eli still staring at her.
I put my cowl on, and she her mask. We made our way through the encampment's narrow ways and heavy traffic toward the converted gym. This IASC installation took over a massive college + another 200 surrounding acres. Aramis University. It was a prestigious school, not likely to ever be a school again.
“He still fawning over you?” Seto asked. They walked brisk, sideways past oncoming medical attendees and mock guards and machine soldiers getting ready for their posts. A busy scene.
“For all the... Oh my... Seto!”
“What?”
“Yes and I hate it!”
“Want me to do something?” Seto chuckled to himself.
“Like what?”
“Anything you want if it bothers you that much. It seems like it does. He's under my contract.” Sakura put a hand up to her face. She didn't want to talk about it. I could tell she's thought about a lot of avenues to shake the lonely man who she decided poorly one night to show him some amount of love, or affection, or skin he took as such. Happens all the time in this biz. Much more in war. Babies born with dead parents, crazed parents. Men in unrequited predicaments turn their guns on themselves. All the good and horrible things about love come rolling in these places.

[Cheserto to The Major]

“I don't have much choice in this. Your father told me this straight. Your now a Captain under my command. If it was my decision you'd still have a long way to go. But I can't go against these goddamn family politics. You'd better show me what your father seems to see. I am still your commanding officer, you still report to me.” The Major winced and dug at the side of his eye like there was something there. Then he took out a cigar and lit it carefully, taking puffs and working it between his fingertips and pucker. Cheserto thought tobacco was disgusting. Was all synth shit anyhow.
“Thank you sir. I will not fail you.”
The Major stood there working his cigar a bit longer. Then fiddled with his quadstone, barking orders through it. Then he left. Everyone in the gymnasium-office stood as he strolled out. Then, back to biz. Cheserto though they were all watching him, they all saw. They have been. They're currently speaking about him. Whispering the sentiments of The Major. Whispering his family ties in IASC. They all followed his orders, but who did so gladly. He felt relief when he saw the contractors walk in. Gregg's poked over his desk and followed them into his office.
“Couldn't have been timelier.” Gregg's said, as he the last closed the onyx-screen door.
“Oh?” Seto took of his cowl and started to mess with it. Something about it displeased him you could tell.
Gregg's pointed to the black star on Cheserto's jacket.
“Wow.” Sakura said.
“Don't point.” Cheserto snapped at Gregg's.
“Ha-ha!” Seto belted out laughter. “You don't say... Ah? Captain oh captain?”
The contractors laughed while Gregg's held it back.
“No contractors this time around. Just more army helping our back. We've got to welcome them. Feed them and then get them posted in 4:25.
These bloody natives have to hold this... Art Festival... As if their culture is gonna save their world from The Planarian.” Cheserto smug. And the words fell badly in the room, everyone knew it was a futile cause. But to put it so bluntly.
“If the rich keep leaving the planets and systems, this is gonna keep going on and on...” Gregg's of course says the obvious. But maybe it would still happen with their money and their military suffrage. Everyone, in their heart of hearts, seems to believe they'd eventually be pushed back to Frozen Space and The Heliopolis there, and that's where the last stand, however far in the future that may be. It's a losing war with a mass quantum of charities.

[The Dancer at Nighttime.]
Sakura had heard a rumor that there was someone who was famous in the off-world squad, on the north shore wall of the massive substation where the ritzy arts festival was being held.
Well whatever she whispered happened to be true because The Dancer was standing next to none other than Amad Vincent. The Lost Son of The Vincent Clan. She remembered him in that big smuggling case almost, she would assume like 15 years ago now. It was a big deal in the news at the time doe to the fact that he got such a big sentence being of the Strange Aristocracy. Usually there would be no news, and the family would just pay their way out of it. Somehow he got involved with some very sloppy, very dingy drug peddlers. His Father Michael Vincent had to go on the news explaining the whole situation. How embarrassing.
The Dancer was looking right into Amad's eyes. Him right back. She felt bad, as if she was bashing him, she looked away blushing.
“I'm sorry. I'm... I've just never experienced this before.”
“What?”
“Meeting someone famous.”
“The only thing I've done in my lifetime to merit fame was be born.”
“I guess... sometimes that's all it takes.” It was quiet between them. She was right, though.
Amad still stared listless. As if he expected this. Maybe more. Because The Dancer knew he was definitely going to be in for it.
The Dancer could smell the sea breeze fluttering the waves taking. Everything about the SEMIODAT seemed artificial in some way to her. Down to the natural vitrification smell of The Gulf of Aramis. She could never shake the feeling ever since she first stepped foot on The Idea of God, Everything that was SEMIODAT felt SEMIODAT. And indeed they did put their own cocktail of nano's into their biospheres and such, but it was a deeper longing for her. The white tree's and the Dryad's singing whispering darkness telepathically deep in the night. Oh... Sweet, So and so – A dim longing for home. And now almost four years away on tour. 3 planets falling under Seto's contract and Cheserto's orders, she found in hard to remember their dear Dead Earth.
She bent down lithe and touched the air-tabs on the side of her boots. They shucked, and then formed themselves as tight as can be into her A/R leggings. The Naken Armour / Reflective Stellar suite was colored mostly all white, with some bits of blue and orange, like near the elbows and on the back of the thighs. It was extremely tight, and as she stood up slowly she activated the Reflective Barrier. Essentially a (hopefully) more than one time tele-nano shield that encompassed her, and in theory would keep her from harm as long as it was functional.
10 to 27 hours was the estimated time of The Planar's giant dreadnought to be in this vicinity, tearing up this gulf, harvesting its minerals.
Once it came to the horizon. They would start the extreme evacs as well as bringing in 16 battalions from the IASC and some contractors from The Cone. The evacs were already happening, but once it was visible on the horizon is when people would really get in a frenzy. This would be the Planar's first landfall on this small continent. The IASC, even though they never publicly announced it, planned to make their final move here in the gulf. They were currently using tugs and bi-copters to lay down NF-5 mines all weighted down in the deep blue sandbars way out there. And since it moved clockwise around the planet in a spiral fashion pol to pol, they had about 2 hours before each encounter, and each tick of it getting closer to the beach, and closer to Aramis and the continent.
“If you look really closely Amad... You'll eventually see the IASC Temp-SAT's shooting those bright red lasers at The Planar... worm... Sometimes they'll use those guided tungsten rods as well. You can see the big explosions, all the water going up into the sky, turning into vapour and then clouds.” The Dancer tenderly pointed out towards the vast ocean. She smiled and blushed. Amad definitely got his fathers looks. He continued to hold his gaze on her, he had not taken it off this entire time. She reached into her duffle and got out a peacoat. The thing about the A/R suit was it was skintight like the CYB-SQD suites, showing off all her curves. She could never get men to stop looking her normally, and in that suit chastised her once for being a 'battle distraction.' - 'you get my men all riled up!' he said. She knew Gregg's always had a hard on for her, though eventually he learned to control himself.
“I very much admire your Naken Stellar. Very classy... Unparalleled craftsmanship... I can't imagine how much it cost.” Amad said as she slowly slipped the dark blue peacoat over it. They pretend ignoring that watery explosions in the far distance spells certain doom.
Under all Cheserto bitching (and subsequently Sakura and Gregg's), they needed the Contractors. That's where The Dancer came in under Seto.
Cheserto was always so high and mighty, but they all knew his family ties to the Brigadier.
Amad was under IASC. He had their poor fatigues with a “pink-shard” rifle. Essentially it modeled after an SVD2 with these wicked projectiles that burst upon any hard object and burned holes through anything at all. His file said he had some skill in 'Telekinetic' Projection. Some type of Illusionism. A family trait?- Seto thought aloud at the big but short dinner just hours ago. The last full meal The Major hoped they'd receive. The rest was MRE's.
The “NAVY”'s carriers, cruisers and genuine battlements all swished big out there in tide. The water slightly greenish. Gregg's and his 2nd Tess came up the deck to iron reinforced shale rampart where The Dancer and her squad formed upon the parapet.
“Seto says Zero-Two is gonna be up an coming.” Gregg's tapped the side of his helmet with his index finer twice, staring at The Dancer- then his gaze shifted to Amad unblinking. His mouth opened. Tess did a tiff and shyly looked down and to her right crossing her knees with her tip-toes.

~”Hee-hee”~ Goes Tess. 'Here it goes.' The Dancer. tapped her temple and put down the visor. She walked next to Amad and put a friendly arm on him. At first he felt standoffish. But after awhile, he realized the intention.
“I...” Gregg's coughed. “I...” Gregg's coughed again. He bent over and began violently coughing.
“Holy shit I can't believe you're you.” Tess said so quietly The Dancer hardly picked it up.
“Holy fuck. SEE! I knew she was right. Sakura was... Look! Holy shit! You're Amad Vincent!” Gregg's was overcome, and as usual pointed his finger straight in Amad's face. Amad let out a big sigh.
“I don't understand. Most all in IASC I've come into contact with already knew I was coming.”
“We're you in jail?”
“Yes he was.” Whispers from other IASC gathering. Amad put his bi-pod down on his LMG and rested it there on his little corner of the rampart. A gathering crowed ensued.
“I don't understand how you're IASC. You're IASC right? How are you The Lost Son and The Vincent Clan and IASC?” Gregg's said.
“Rude...” Someone said.
“Look.” Tess said. And pulled up a picture. It was a 'royal' picture of some sort. As is all the Strange Aristocracy decided to gather in a place and a time and rub it in all the SEMIODAT's face.

0-2


The Haruspex:
All in red, strobing. Cheserto laid his back down on the black linen. Count 3. He vibrated up to the headboard, where a mock stood over the pillow. Head calmly there placed, he fixated on her crotch. She took a tiny plastic dropper from her pocket. He opened his mouth, slid out his white tongue. Three drops landed direct like missile-fire. Each drop put the colorless Transient star in his eye line.
O’such a smiling man. How he weaves through barrack ally’s like a gelatin, like a storm drain. Eyes so dilated – look up from a sinister thought, wicked eyes, wicked smile, half of all thought gone…
In the Glass Tent. They serve malts in plastique. Ladies tongue mocks in their ears. Whispers of the night.
“I can call myself.”
“Wuh?
“What – I’m – trying – what – did – you – say? Beer got all over me – It’s dim in here – A glass building in a warzone… - Mock like come here, easy drug, good eats, fast IASO johns – some wrecking crew.” They all roll their eyes. – Cheserto leaning, saying. P1 listens for the look, but then pushes back. In her vision a rocky Cheserto pushes and flirts with his Sakura.
‘All agents all the time.’ P1 synths to herself. P1, Colour, Changling.
‘Clara, Clara!’
Changeling no answer. Another whisper in the wind. Emeralds and pines. Go through all the trees. Up the wisps away, all the way over the encampment N.W. to Gregg’s and his little squad of mocks freezing their heels in. Dug in the asphalt skins.
“Goan kick Dankovsky in the teeth.”
“Dem Gub’ment bwoys.”
“That Who?”Seto ask.
“Prep school lad. Famous batchelor from S1.”
“Dem Famed Ones.”
“Jeanie, Jeanie, Jeanie, a face in the misty lights.”
“Ha!”loud belch of laughter at no known N.A.
“I saw that.”
“Lotta people goin’to prison this year-”feint tee-hee. Cold corrugated doors. Everything here has been melted, under the snow. Sticks of burnt metal all over. Collapsed buildings & rigs. Nothing here is alive. Amad made fast friends with the Cheserto group. Though they all called him Vince. They set out patrol screamers to encircled their tiny plastic fortification. Then slow fire and stew.
“You put noodlers in that stew it’ll get your britches right in a screw.” White man [white man] echo’s.
“Go right through you.”
Skelly’s chastising Amad at the Glass Tent. Throw full Pína Colada’s at him. The Vincent. Strange colours dance around his veil. Music and time seem to slow. Sunlight seems to bend or go slower around Amad. The Dancer told him she used to work for a mining company hauling space debris until she joined up with Seto’s crew and jumped the stars. Amad didn’t like the bar at the Tent so much. IASC didn’t care about their people or others. At all. Just let them get drunk, all day, all the time, drunks everywhere, falling down. Naked can’t find their clothes. Starving, addicted, can’t ring out. When the scourge come: IASC build a base (TEMP) or simply pours onto your fair city like a lush, fiar citizens beware. Naked, can’t find the stairwell. Not the land, grass or tree’s. Nor surf, sand or sea. You find the black spot right there on your little heart. It rapt with plague. P1 turns and synths her eyes away, regression, cooking opium – Her eyes! Shake – Virulent! Green to red to white, always pulsing that hard white ‘n cleartone.