Charlie Yerondais: Soulscape

Soulscape

Charlie Yerondais

Lonny found himself waiting under a blinking fluorescent light on the corner of Guryon and Janata. Between the blinks was the characteristic glow of neon shadow, where deep reds bled out the edge of silhouettes.

Where the fuck is she. Ness was characteristically late and Lonny early. They made plans to go to the holo club last night, but since then he hadn’t heard anything. He contemplated taking half a blue and reaching her but decided against it. He had been using too much since he landed, although she was undoubtedly high at the present. Waves of sound rebounded through the alleys. Reverberations of the crowd began to form and move as one, surging into the hellscape of New Ares. Lonny liked this corner because it was one people tended to avoid. The Sicilian barbecue and bar across the street, dealing in horse racing and the subsequent butchery and serving of the animal, kept anyone he knew away. Not to mention he was a sucker for horse meat. Boo. Ness was here.

‘Ness, if I can’t see you please use your words, that could’ve been anyone trying to connect’. Ness grinned.

‘Lighten up Lonn! Not only is it date night but it’s a fucking miracle of evolution’. Lonny laughed. Ness always made him laugh.

‘Ready for dinner?’ Lonny asked.

‘You read my mind.’ They crossed the street for carne di cavallo.

Making their way through the lower district, Lonny got swept up by the atmosphere, as he always did. Ness was right at home. She was born on Mars, and nothing shocked her. Digital screeches from back alley slot parlours rolled into the swathes of people lining the street. Just ahead of them was a commotion involving two young pickpockets and some street thugs. Lonny grimaced, bracing for impact on their behalf. Ness just laughed. They passed the street corner preachers, raving mad about repentance in Spanglish to a horde of sinners longing for the lost blue skies of America. Earthen nostalgia hit Lonny that he immediately suppressed.

Ness felt it. Earth’s boring Lonn, that’s why you left. Look at this place! It couldn’t be denied. Low Town was dark, dirty, and unregulated. An uneasy mix of trouble and fun sat behind every corner. Everything Earth wasn’t. Couldn’t even get a drink past midnight by the time Lonny left. He relented, unzipping the baggie in his pocket and dry swallowing a blue. Better? No doubt.

The entrance to Seek bordered the night market, creating a necessarily strict door policy. Overflow from the dives brought raving drunks and emaciated rogues. Limbless cripples huddled in the gutter facing the door, cock eyed and desperate while young bohemians torched on narcotics obnoxiously stomped past. The bouncer, a man whose thumb-like neck and head merged into one as it burrowed out of his cheap suit, had an intimidating brilliance as though he had been carved from stone.His presence radiated fear in those out of the loop. He turned to Lonny and gave him a hard stare. Lonny felt the blue take root in his lower back, preparing to enrapture the rest of his body. He was conscious of the sweat seeping onto the surface of his skin. Lonny never took confrontation well. Ness flashed a medallion resembling a pixelated bird with spread wings. The stare shifted to her.

‘Here for French Kisz, we’re on the holo jock’s list tonight chief’. The thumb, appropriately charmed, moved aside and revealed stairs descending into the void. Ness pushed them down the rabbit hole as the blue took off, making their way past love puddles and spilt drinks. The system was pumping deep and sexy, working the crowd into a trance. In the booth beside French Kisz was Glen Galactic, holo jock extraordinaire. Lonny settled into things, moving with the rhythms and trying to catch a groove. He visualised his internal dial and tried to slide it to the right channel. He got caught on the racket of thoughts bouncing around when Ness interjected.

Try behind the eyes.

She always knew the sweet spot. Dial locked in, right behind the eyes and above the bass, the holos came alive as the lows ruptured his innards. A full moon appeared above the dance floor, bright eyes in place of craters, giving Lonny suggestive looks. French Kisz worked some vocoder into the mix and the moon sparkled. There were only around 200 people in the club. All on blues, all on the same channel but with slight variations. The wasters in the sunken pit at the back left had their dial tilted deep into the bass, while the art crowd stuck to the bar keeping their dials open to dialogue. Lonny and Ness were on the floor, pressed against each other as the horde swelled and swayed as one. FK slowed shit right down as the night sky fell through the ceiling. Ness and Lonn tripped next to Orion's Belt while it pulsed with the beat.

Glen is fucking on tonight. The rhythms became so sparse that the galaxy seemed to lose interest, retreating back through the ceiling, leaving stardust which hovered between dancers and vibrated with the bass. Lonny reached out to the glittering specks that surrounded him. Touching the dust made it explode into an aura that swept over his figure and throbbed with the energy on the floor. Everyone had their own aura now, coating them in sparkling light that rippled and bounced along the grooves. Lonny looked up at Glen Galactic who just winked. The moon laughed, and the beat rolled on.

Leaving the holos in the club was as exciting as discovering them. The afterglow from the blue and the discovered mind channel meant that Lonny could see echoes of other holos scattered around the cityscape, flickering when he walked past at a certain angle before shimmering back into the early morning air. Lonny loved the ghost holos, the way they

radiated throughout the metro imparted a sense of scale to the endlessness of Low Town. The rolling grey structures surrounding the narrow streets blocked out sunlight, trapping pedestrians in permanent shade.

Ghost holos added so much colour, touchpoints and a much-needed understanding of relative size when you were looking 130 storeys up on a residential street. Blues unlocked the secret of Low Town’s bedroom holo jocks, the ones that found the right channel and started projecting their dreams, with or without an audience. Butterflies floated through a closed window and brought with them the echoes of deep bass. The lower district was so ugly under shady grey light. Neon did its best to mask it but could only do so much. Ghosts were the only thing keeping Lonny’s sanity in check. A parallel world that softened the grey angles of New Ares.

You got more blues? He asked. Always Lonn, the pad’s this way remember? Left at the butterflies.

Ness’ block sat near the edge of Low Town. Earth’s middle-class migrants were beginning to set up shop around the neighbourhood. Once an old-fashioned bad area now catered to the comforts of well to do children. Regardless, the charm of Low Town was still apparent. The lift smelled like piss and the stainless steel walls were dented and scratched to look like a crushed can. Faint shadows filled the recesses and light glinted off the peaks. Think I can get on your channel? Ness’ eyes went wide, and she laughed. The lift jerked to a stop at level 77.

Come on Lonn, paradise is around the corner. Stumbling through the corridors, giddy and ready for more. They fell through the door laughing and caressing, horny and high. Lonny collapsed on the couch, leaning over to peek out the window and spot the holo ghosts 80 storeys up. Ness put on a record. Martian bass soaked over him like a bath. He tilted his dial towards it, sinking into its depth and warmth, its characteristic skittering rhythm and spliffed out pads. He turned to Ness who had a blue between her teeth. She knelt to eye level and bit into it, splitting it in two while exchanging a French Kisz. Our channel is on top of the bass.

Lonny closed his eyes, found it, and let it take him. He felt Ness’ conscience slip over his. The bliss rolled around the room, thoughts combining and emotions one. He felt her touch her cunt as if it were his own. They didn’t know who controlled what anymore.

It didn’t matter, they moved together, unsure but certain. The collective orgasm’s brilliance shone in time with the bass, enveloping them for what seemed like hours, oblivious to the world outside of their joined consciousness. Their eyes closed, colours blazed and settled to a faint glow. He sensed Ness slip out as her shuddering body eased next to his. Channels shifted. Eyes half open, incandescent butterflies radiated out of her olive skin, carrying waves of hypnotic bass that lulled them to sleep.

About the Authors

Josefine Willadsen

Josefine’s favourite book is Nothing Holds Back the Night by Delphine de Vigan. Her favourite genres to read are fantasy and creative non-fiction. Her favourite genre to write is also creative non-fiction. The quote about writing that means the most to her is: Everybody walks past a thousand stories a day. The good writers are the ones who see five or six of them. Most don’t see any Orson Scott

Juliana Byers

Juliana’s favourite book series is The Century Trilogy by Ken Follett. She likes to read from many genres, including historical fiction, military history, non-fiction, and fantasy. Although she mainly prefers to write historical fiction. A quote about writing that is very important to her is: It seems that writer's block is often a dislike of writing badly and waiting for better writing to happen Jennifer Egan

Samuel Harris

Samuel’s favourite book is the Bible, with the Lord of the Rings series as his favourite fiction. Despite this, he mostly reads fantasy although he does write both fantasy and science fiction. The quote that means the most to him about writing is: Someone out there right now is going to write someone else’s favourite book of all time and is currently wondering if the story in their head is worth telling Jenny Lawson

Keely Naylon

Keely’s favourite book is The Secret History by Donna Tartt. She mostly read surrealist fiction with some drama for variety's sake and she mostly writes either drama or poetry. The quote about writing that had a great influence on her is: People tend to forget that my presence runs counter to their best interests. And it always does. That is one last thing to remember: writers are always selling somebody out Joan Didion

Amanda Simpson

Amanda’s favourite book is Jennifer Government by Max Barry. She mostly reads speculative fiction, political essays, and travel writing, which also happen to be her favourite genres to write about. The quote about writing that means the most to her is: Start writing, no matter what. The water does not flow until the faucet is on Louis L’Amour

Jack Walsh

Jack’s favourite book is Jurassic Park by Michael Crichton and the manga series Berserk by Kentaro Miura. He mostly reads dark fantasy, modern fantasy, or science fiction, although he mostly only writes dark fantasy. The quote about writing that means the most to him is: Living for the future is more important than trying to avenge the past Kentaro Miura

Charlie Yerondais

Charlie’s favourite book is The Dispossessed by Ursula Le Guin. His favourite genre to write is speculative fiction and science fiction, which are also his favourite genre to read. The quote about writing that means the most to him is: We've got a great job! We got to be charlatans and we're paid for it. We make this shit up and people believe it William Gibson

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