The Spectrum of Color
The scale of color, unlike the scale of music, flows evenly from one side of the circular spectrum to the other. Although, one could say that the tone of music is a sphere of sound, with the key of Indigo transposed into the key of Violet, then Magenta, Lavender, Crimson, Red, Vermilion, Amber… all the way until it glissandos from Blue back to Indigo…
There are white flags hanging from poles on the surrounding buildings–– as Darc and Jack fly closer to the center of the city, there are more and more of these flags. Some of them are fallen, the white crushed out by muddied footprints; some are hanging by the broken glass of a window by a jutting pile of metal where the buildings cave in. The fabric claps and snaps in the howling wind as they pass. There are no words on these flags, but instead a perfect circle of color. Red, green and blue are the most prominent colors, split in equal sixths like a biohazard symbol. In between, the primary colors meld together with yellow, teal and purple. While the colors are pure and clearly defined on the outside of the circle, they blend together until they reach a white abyss that seems to glow in the very center of the wheel.
This is the way of the Street Level. The three main gangs split up the city floor equally, with the tip of the Red turf facing directly west. The graffiti wars color the streets according to turf—– the Blue Sector is unmistakable, with buildings and alleyways coated in paint. In the sections in between there is always fighting, and tag wars. When you walk between the Blue and Red Sectors, the graffiti, blood and color splatters mix together to create a purple, chaotic concrete jungle.
And towards the center of the city, the color borders begin to falter. Here there is a mass of fighting, and no color is able to keep a clear cut of the city for more than a night or two. In the very center is the Paint District. Dubbed “Neutral Ground” the Paint District makes up most of the Street Level’s nightlife. All of the colors come together here, to dance, to fight, to even make a fraction of peace before the next battle breaks out.
And past the first hundred floors, the colors begin to fade. Pure, shining white chrome takes over the jagged buildings, up, up, up until the utopia, the Upper District covers the shameful underbelly of the city. Up high, against the bright blue sky, the shady Street Level and gang wars are a topic of conversation only brought up with hushed voices.
As the Blue streets begin to clash and fade into Green, and as the shadows deepen, fading and crashing into the light from garish neon signs, the night begins to growl and stir with life. The tension in the air is bristling, anticipating the blood, the contrasting colors, the deafening music.
We can taste it in the rushing desert wind.
----------
Once the traces of blue were completely gone from the streets, overwhelmed by murals of green, Darc pulled the bike down closer to the ground. Sea-stained glass, shattered, was scattered across the road, glistening in the gutter like a sandy shore. The whole feel of the place was completely different from the streets before—more buildings were illuminated, the sidewalk (wherever it still remained) was not as lonely as in the Blue Sector. A few young adults mulled about the streets, slipping into alleyways and leaning against lampposts coated with acid-colored vines.
Darc brought them to the ground. “Time to get off,” he said, slipping off of the bike seat. Jack stumbled onto the ground, his legs still shaking from the flight. He had never ridden in any vehicle before, let alone a flying motorcycle. It seemed that the cars in the City of All Cities were driving just around the next corner, out of sight, or were only blurs of lights. Memories from car crashes ignited.
Once the two had firmly planted their feet on the ground, the sky bike rose in the sky, driving itself up and away.
“Umm…” Jack looked up after it.
“Don’t worry,” Darc said. “It always comes back.”
The buzz of a bass droned in Jack’s ears. Or maybe it was his heartbeat. Darc stopped by the side of a building where a hole had been blasted through the bricks. Baddum. He stepped through the crumbling opening, motioning for Jack to follow. It led to a dark alleyway. Baddum. Jack followed Darc under a fallen beam, stepping over a crushed fence. Jack squinted in the darkness, baddum, trying not to trip on rubble, baddum, baddum. Ahead, Darc’s silhouette was outlined by bright green light. It shone from around the tattered edges of a cloth at the end of the alley.
Baddum, baddum.
"Welcome, kid..." Darc pulled aside the drape for Jack. "To the Green Room."
Jack stepped into the green glow, shielding his eyes from its eerie sound. As his eyes adjusted to the brightness, he could make out a huge building that stood out from the others not only through size, but because it was entirely green. Dark, neon, pastel and forest greens coated each side of the building and dripped out to the street as well. Jack had a feeling this wasn’t any paint though, because the place was glowing with it.
There was a pack of people waiting before a staircase leading underground; some of them were in line to get into the party, while others sat on the curb. All of them were young teens, dressed in jagged, run-down, stitched-up, strapped-on clothing. Punk gone color coordinated. Even the bouncers didn’t look much older than Jack.
Something zoomed over Jack’s head in a flash of green light—he ducked under his arms as dust kicked up around him. A white flag drifted to the ground. He looked up to see Darc’s bike fly towards the Green Room, and park itself on the fifth floor. Or rather, fly through the glass windows of the fifth floor.
“Cool,” Jack breathed, giggling a madman’s laugh.
“This is Club Vertigo,” Darc explained as they walked to the building. “Also Green Gang’s base. Let’s go inside and get you fixed up a bit.”
“Yeah, sure,” Jack muttered.
They walked up to Club Vertigo and the music became sharper and more dissonant. It was unlike anything he had heard before, with a heavy, metallic sound, like a drum with a drone, and a heart-racing beat. There might have been a singing accompaniment, but it continually tuned in and out of his ears. The music was slightly watered down by the shouts of the crowd that surged to the entrance. Their faces were illuminated by the flashing strobe light, and lit up with excitement.
Members of the crowd turned to stare at Jack, looking at the shock of rainbow on his skin with knowing eyes. Darc didn’t lead him down the steps, but through the huge front doors. He rested his hand against where a handle should have been, and let out a spark of green from his palm. The doors opened to what must have once been a grand, regal building or hotel. The entrance hall was three stories high, decked with pillars, a huge staircase, and a chandelier. But everything was completely run down. The marble pillars and steps were chipped, and covered in graffiti. All of the rubble, broken windowpanes, old couches, and faded pillars were covered with blinking lights. A mess of wires jutted up from the floor, overflowing, and twisting across the whole room, wrapping around the balcony railing and walls.
There were a dozen or so teenagers strewn about the old couches and chairs. Some were leaning on the walls and chatting, and others hung from the balconies above. A few were finger painting on the wall. Their hands glistened with green.
Staring at their hands, Jack's head began to ache. Everything around him was moving faster than he could keep track of, flying by his understanding in a whirl of motion. It was... impossible. He had never seen so many colors before, never like this, but he had felt them. He remembered playing music in the quiet loneliness of his studio, letting those colors pour out of his very soul. He remembered reaching past those sounds and chords, strums and keys, watching the color unfold like a flower, and remembered imagining the nectar of that sweet song… in the core of it was the dream of a city long faded. He remembered thinking, or dreaming, of seeing people walking through a city of sound with every strain of his voice.
And now he watched the people from this side of the music. The night was bright with their lives, the lives that before were only shapes and colors upon a canvas of sound. They were real. And they lived in color. But looking at Darc and the other people around them, he realized that none of them had as much color as he did. None of them had the same intense bursts of colors clashing on their skin. Darc had bits of blue on him, but as Jack watched the cold spots began to fade into teal, into green, and finally they emitted a bright light, and disappeared into orange brown skin. The tone of everyone’s flesh was more harmonic than the clashing colors of their clothes. Jack held up his hand again, looking for a similarly tuned color hiding beneath the bright rainbow.
“Yo, who is this cat?” A boy, about Jack’s age, with bright blonde hair and a green leather jacket walked up to them.
“This is Jac,” Darc said without a smile. “Jac, this is Malachyte. Member of Arken’s gang. Do you know where Netto is?”
“In her room?” Malachyte shrugged.
“I’ll get her.” Darc put a firm hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Now stay here, junkie,” he said slowly, and then walked up the staircase.
“Junkie?” Jack frowned. A few of the other people were coming up to him, staring at the patchwork of colors on his skin.
“Hey, are you a White Light or something?” Malachyte asked with a sneer.
“I don’t know what you mean.” Jack looked at him dully.
“No, he’s just shooting up.” Another young man tapped the inside of his elbow rapidly. His head was shaved, showing a few scars along his scalp. “Looks like an overdose if I ever saw one.”
“What’s your color kid, huh?” a girl asked. “You’re a Green, right? I mean, Darc wouldn’t bring another color into Vertigo, right?”
Jack tried to back up from the three of them. A few others were watching, curiously. “I really don’t know what––”
“Stop harassing him, Barrium, Malachyte,” the one with the shaved head said.
“Kay boss.”
Malachyte grunted.
“I’m Arken,” the boss said, holding out a hand. Jack shook it dully. “Second Green Gang Leader. Don’t worry ‘bout my Greens; they’re just curious about the new kid on the block. We’”
Jack found a couch and collapsed onto it. Most of the other teens in the room were watching him. The music from below pounded on the floor, pounded in his ears and on his skin. Junkie, he thought, holding his crumpled hands carefully. Why do they all call me junkie? Maybe I was drugged. I can hardly remember what happened last night, think, Jack, what the hell did you do in the Punk Underground? If it weren’t for the bruises swelling on his face, he might have thought it was all just a dream.
Do you dream in color?
Jack closed his eyes. He remembered there was a band playing—sort of punk rock with a few swing-like beats. What was that singers name? Bite? Fang? Fang, that’s right. And the bassist… Sam… Kid… Sid…
The memories rushed back to him. You all know what I mean. Don’t make me explain what I mean. Look I know we all said that we wouldn’t kill anyone, but can we stop fooling ourselves already? We’re starting a war, and there’s gonna be some killing, maybe not today, maybe not this year…
We’re starting a war.
The Resonance. The meeting with the Resonance, with Scherzo, Wednesday, Friday, Fang, Sid, Cadence, Jess… no, not Jess. Path. Path.
Research and development. Jack’s going to help me with a little project.
I need to know more…
You can’t keep taking stray musicians off the street…
And which one is he?
"Jack."
He looked up. Darc stood before him, beside a young girl in cargo pants and a green dress. A bandolier of tools and wires was slung across her chest. Her hair was a mess of brown under huge goggles, and there was a cold look in her large eyes.
“This is Netto.” Darc touched the back of her neck. “She’s part of my gang. Really brilliant hacker, she is.” For the first time, Jack saw Darc smile. It suited him.
“So what exactly do you need my expert brain hacking skills for?” Netto asked loftily, managing to stare down at Jack even though she was a good head shorter. Her head tilted up, she pressed a finger under her lip.
“Uhm.” Jack’s eyes widened. “Brain hack? You guys… you guys are kidding right?”
“He’s overdosed, I bet,” Darc explained. “I thought you could numb the effects a bit, see how he’s doing in the head. Also figure out who the hell he is…”
“What do you mean brain hack?!”
Netto ignored Jack. “Fine. But only because you’re the prettiest gangster in town.”
Darc bent down and kissed her cheek.
"Where's your ID, kid?" Netto asked, stepping closer to Jack.
“Oh, his name is Jac, by the way.” Darc sat down on the couch, picking his teeth. “And I didn’t find any tags on him.”
“Well I’ll get it directly.” She pulled something off of her bandolier, and fiddled with a few buttons and knobs, muttering to herself.
“Hold on a second!” Jack exclaimed. “I don’t want anyone to go hacking up my brain. Maybe it’s not perfect, but I like it exactly how it is—in one piece!”
“Will you relax? Stay still.” Netto held a hand in front of Jack’s face, and with the other she pushed down her glasses. “You won’t feel a—ahh… hmm. I can’t get to the bitmites.” She pulled a square device covered in a few knobs and levers from the bandolier.
“Is there a firewall or something?” Darc asked, perking up in his seat. “Maybe he is an upper one, if the block is good.”
“No, I don’t know if… well maybe. Put this in between your eyes,” Netto said as she handed Jack a wire with a bulbous end that flickered like a firefly. “There now, just stick it at the bridge of your nose.”
Jack complied.
Netto secured the other end of the wire to the box in her hand, and began to turn a few of the dials. The sound of static grew in the air. Jack heard a buzzing in his hears, on his eyes, louder and louder...
The next thing he knew, his head was splitting with pain. The buzzing ruptured in front of his eyes into a thousand different voices, a cacophony of sound, and a rush of feelings, numbers, meanings, whispers, waves of knowledge, a flood of knowledge and questions battered his brain, sweeping through him, his knees hit the floor, what is your name, where are you from, what do you feel, what are you?
Netto ripped the wire from Jack's face, and the sea of voices rushed out of him. Jack gasped, wide-eyed and trembling at the floor.
“Odd.” Netto returned her attention to the screen on her device.
“Damn, what the fuck did you do?”
Jack coughed, gagged, held his head.
“Not my fault.” Netto blew out a gust of air. “The kid’s never been connected before. He doesn’t have any bitmites to connect to.”
Jack managed to get to his feet. A few of the other teens were drawing nearer, drawn to the commotion. Their eyes bored into him, hypnotized. “Wh-what just happened?” Jack asked.
"He's not on colorshock, or any other drug for that matter," Netto explained. "And yeah–– he doesn't have any bitmites. I'll see if I can find any IDs that match his description."
“No colorshock? But he reeks of the stuff. I know an OD when I see one.”
"Never seen anything like this."
“Hey.” Darc looked at the others. “Cats. Scat. Go on, get.”
The other teens moved away, shooting Jack curious and unwelcome looks. He didn't return any of their gazes... instead he looked at Darc, the devil in green, with a darkness in his eyes that made those demonic horns befitting of him.
“Jack, do you remember where you’re from?”
"Um." If this was really a sealed off era, then they wouldn't know what he meant if he told the truth. They wouldn't believe him if he said he was from another time... there was one sure way to find out if this future knew about its past. "The City of All Cities?"
He looked for a spark of recognition in Darc's eyes, but found none.
“You’re really not going to believe this one,” Netto said. “But, I even checked it twice, and there’s no identified Jack here who looks like that. Or anyone who looks like that.”
“Well, I’m a man who’ll believe anything.” Darc smirked deviously at Jack. “So you’re not from LuxCultum. Apparently, you don’t exist. Cool.”
The scale of color, unlike the scale of music, flows evenly from one side of the circular spectrum to the other. Although, one could say that the tone of music is a sphere of sound, with the key of Indigo transposed into the key of Violet, then Magenta, Lavender, Crimson, Red, Vermilion, Amber… all the way until it glissandos from Blue back to Indigo…
There are white flags hanging from poles on the surrounding buildings–– as Darc and Jack fly closer to the center of the city, there are more and more of these flags. Some of them are fallen, the white crushed out by muddied footprints; some are hanging by the broken glass of a window by a jutting pile of metal where the buildings cave in. The fabric claps and snaps in the howling wind as they pass. There are no words on these flags, but instead a perfect circle of color. Red, green and blue are the most prominent colors, split in equal sixths like a biohazard symbol. In between, the primary colors meld together with yellow, teal and purple. While the colors are pure and clearly defined on the outside of the circle, they blend together until they reach a white abyss that seems to glow in the very center of the wheel.
This is the way of the Street Level. The three main gangs split up the city floor equally, with the tip of the Red turf facing directly west. The graffiti wars color the streets according to turf—– the Blue Sector is unmistakable, with buildings and alleyways coated in paint. In the sections in between there is always fighting, and tag wars. When you walk between the Blue and Red Sectors, the graffiti, blood and color splatters mix together to create a purple, chaotic concrete jungle.
And towards the center of the city, the color borders begin to falter. Here there is a mass of fighting, and no color is able to keep a clear cut of the city for more than a night or two. In the very center is the Paint District. Dubbed “Neutral Ground” the Paint District makes up most of the Street Level’s nightlife. All of the colors come together here, to dance, to fight, to even make a fraction of peace before the next battle breaks out.
And past the first hundred floors, the colors begin to fade. Pure, shining white chrome takes over the jagged buildings, up, up, up until the utopia, the Upper District covers the shameful underbelly of the city. Up high, against the bright blue sky, the shady Street Level and gang wars are a topic of conversation only brought up with hushed voices.
As the Blue streets begin to clash and fade into Green, and as the shadows deepen, fading and crashing into the light from garish neon signs, the night begins to growl and stir with life. The tension in the air is bristling, anticipating the blood, the contrasting colors, the deafening music.
We can taste it in the rushing desert wind.
----------
Once the traces of blue were completely gone from the streets, overwhelmed by murals of green, Darc pulled the bike down closer to the ground. Sea-stained glass, shattered, was scattered across the road, glistening in the gutter like a sandy shore. The whole feel of the place was completely different from the streets before—more buildings were illuminated, the sidewalk (wherever it still remained) was not as lonely as in the Blue Sector. A few young adults mulled about the streets, slipping into alleyways and leaning against lampposts coated with acid-colored vines.
Darc brought them to the ground. “Time to get off,” he said, slipping off of the bike seat. Jack stumbled onto the ground, his legs still shaking from the flight. He had never ridden in any vehicle before, let alone a flying motorcycle. It seemed that the cars in the City of All Cities were driving just around the next corner, out of sight, or were only blurs of lights. Memories from car crashes ignited.
Once the two had firmly planted their feet on the ground, the sky bike rose in the sky, driving itself up and away.
“Umm…” Jack looked up after it.
“Don’t worry,” Darc said. “It always comes back.”
The buzz of a bass droned in Jack’s ears. Or maybe it was his heartbeat. Darc stopped by the side of a building where a hole had been blasted through the bricks. Baddum. He stepped through the crumbling opening, motioning for Jack to follow. It led to a dark alleyway. Baddum. Jack followed Darc under a fallen beam, stepping over a crushed fence. Jack squinted in the darkness, baddum, trying not to trip on rubble, baddum, baddum. Ahead, Darc’s silhouette was outlined by bright green light. It shone from around the tattered edges of a cloth at the end of the alley.
Baddum, baddum.
"Welcome, kid..." Darc pulled aside the drape for Jack. "To the Green Room."
Jack stepped into the green glow, shielding his eyes from its eerie sound. As his eyes adjusted to the brightness, he could make out a huge building that stood out from the others not only through size, but because it was entirely green. Dark, neon, pastel and forest greens coated each side of the building and dripped out to the street as well. Jack had a feeling this wasn’t any paint though, because the place was glowing with it.
There was a pack of people waiting before a staircase leading underground; some of them were in line to get into the party, while others sat on the curb. All of them were young teens, dressed in jagged, run-down, stitched-up, strapped-on clothing. Punk gone color coordinated. Even the bouncers didn’t look much older than Jack.
Something zoomed over Jack’s head in a flash of green light—he ducked under his arms as dust kicked up around him. A white flag drifted to the ground. He looked up to see Darc’s bike fly towards the Green Room, and park itself on the fifth floor. Or rather, fly through the glass windows of the fifth floor.
“Cool,” Jack breathed, giggling a madman’s laugh.
“This is Club Vertigo,” Darc explained as they walked to the building. “Also Green Gang’s base. Let’s go inside and get you fixed up a bit.”
“Yeah, sure,” Jack muttered.
They walked up to Club Vertigo and the music became sharper and more dissonant. It was unlike anything he had heard before, with a heavy, metallic sound, like a drum with a drone, and a heart-racing beat. There might have been a singing accompaniment, but it continually tuned in and out of his ears. The music was slightly watered down by the shouts of the crowd that surged to the entrance. Their faces were illuminated by the flashing strobe light, and lit up with excitement.
Members of the crowd turned to stare at Jack, looking at the shock of rainbow on his skin with knowing eyes. Darc didn’t lead him down the steps, but through the huge front doors. He rested his hand against where a handle should have been, and let out a spark of green from his palm. The doors opened to what must have once been a grand, regal building or hotel. The entrance hall was three stories high, decked with pillars, a huge staircase, and a chandelier. But everything was completely run down. The marble pillars and steps were chipped, and covered in graffiti. All of the rubble, broken windowpanes, old couches, and faded pillars were covered with blinking lights. A mess of wires jutted up from the floor, overflowing, and twisting across the whole room, wrapping around the balcony railing and walls.
There were a dozen or so teenagers strewn about the old couches and chairs. Some were leaning on the walls and chatting, and others hung from the balconies above. A few were finger painting on the wall. Their hands glistened with green.
Staring at their hands, Jack's head began to ache. Everything around him was moving faster than he could keep track of, flying by his understanding in a whirl of motion. It was... impossible. He had never seen so many colors before, never like this, but he had felt them. He remembered playing music in the quiet loneliness of his studio, letting those colors pour out of his very soul. He remembered reaching past those sounds and chords, strums and keys, watching the color unfold like a flower, and remembered imagining the nectar of that sweet song… in the core of it was the dream of a city long faded. He remembered thinking, or dreaming, of seeing people walking through a city of sound with every strain of his voice.
And now he watched the people from this side of the music. The night was bright with their lives, the lives that before were only shapes and colors upon a canvas of sound. They were real. And they lived in color. But looking at Darc and the other people around them, he realized that none of them had as much color as he did. None of them had the same intense bursts of colors clashing on their skin. Darc had bits of blue on him, but as Jack watched the cold spots began to fade into teal, into green, and finally they emitted a bright light, and disappeared into orange brown skin. The tone of everyone’s flesh was more harmonic than the clashing colors of their clothes. Jack held up his hand again, looking for a similarly tuned color hiding beneath the bright rainbow.
“Yo, who is this cat?” A boy, about Jack’s age, with bright blonde hair and a green leather jacket walked up to them.
“This is Jac,” Darc said without a smile. “Jac, this is Malachyte. Member of Arken’s gang. Do you know where Netto is?”
“In her room?” Malachyte shrugged.
“I’ll get her.” Darc put a firm hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Now stay here, junkie,” he said slowly, and then walked up the staircase.
“Junkie?” Jack frowned. A few of the other people were coming up to him, staring at the patchwork of colors on his skin.
“Hey, are you a White Light or something?” Malachyte asked with a sneer.
“I don’t know what you mean.” Jack looked at him dully.
“No, he’s just shooting up.” Another young man tapped the inside of his elbow rapidly. His head was shaved, showing a few scars along his scalp. “Looks like an overdose if I ever saw one.”
“What’s your color kid, huh?” a girl asked. “You’re a Green, right? I mean, Darc wouldn’t bring another color into Vertigo, right?”
Jack tried to back up from the three of them. A few others were watching, curiously. “I really don’t know what––”
“Stop harassing him, Barrium, Malachyte,” the one with the shaved head said.
“Kay boss.”
Malachyte grunted.
“I’m Arken,” the boss said, holding out a hand. Jack shook it dully. “Second Green Gang Leader. Don’t worry ‘bout my Greens; they’re just curious about the new kid on the block. We’”
Jack found a couch and collapsed onto it. Most of the other teens in the room were watching him. The music from below pounded on the floor, pounded in his ears and on his skin. Junkie, he thought, holding his crumpled hands carefully. Why do they all call me junkie? Maybe I was drugged. I can hardly remember what happened last night, think, Jack, what the hell did you do in the Punk Underground? If it weren’t for the bruises swelling on his face, he might have thought it was all just a dream.
Do you dream in color?
Jack closed his eyes. He remembered there was a band playing—sort of punk rock with a few swing-like beats. What was that singers name? Bite? Fang? Fang, that’s right. And the bassist… Sam… Kid… Sid…
The memories rushed back to him. You all know what I mean. Don’t make me explain what I mean. Look I know we all said that we wouldn’t kill anyone, but can we stop fooling ourselves already? We’re starting a war, and there’s gonna be some killing, maybe not today, maybe not this year…
We’re starting a war.
The Resonance. The meeting with the Resonance, with Scherzo, Wednesday, Friday, Fang, Sid, Cadence, Jess… no, not Jess. Path. Path.
Research and development. Jack’s going to help me with a little project.
I need to know more…
You can’t keep taking stray musicians off the street…
And which one is he?
"Jack."
He looked up. Darc stood before him, beside a young girl in cargo pants and a green dress. A bandolier of tools and wires was slung across her chest. Her hair was a mess of brown under huge goggles, and there was a cold look in her large eyes.
“This is Netto.” Darc touched the back of her neck. “She’s part of my gang. Really brilliant hacker, she is.” For the first time, Jack saw Darc smile. It suited him.
“So what exactly do you need my expert brain hacking skills for?” Netto asked loftily, managing to stare down at Jack even though she was a good head shorter. Her head tilted up, she pressed a finger under her lip.
“Uhm.” Jack’s eyes widened. “Brain hack? You guys… you guys are kidding right?”
“He’s overdosed, I bet,” Darc explained. “I thought you could numb the effects a bit, see how he’s doing in the head. Also figure out who the hell he is…”
“What do you mean brain hack?!”
Netto ignored Jack. “Fine. But only because you’re the prettiest gangster in town.”
Darc bent down and kissed her cheek.
"Where's your ID, kid?" Netto asked, stepping closer to Jack.
“Oh, his name is Jac, by the way.” Darc sat down on the couch, picking his teeth. “And I didn’t find any tags on him.”
“Well I’ll get it directly.” She pulled something off of her bandolier, and fiddled with a few buttons and knobs, muttering to herself.
“Hold on a second!” Jack exclaimed. “I don’t want anyone to go hacking up my brain. Maybe it’s not perfect, but I like it exactly how it is—in one piece!”
“Will you relax? Stay still.” Netto held a hand in front of Jack’s face, and with the other she pushed down her glasses. “You won’t feel a—ahh… hmm. I can’t get to the bitmites.” She pulled a square device covered in a few knobs and levers from the bandolier.
“Is there a firewall or something?” Darc asked, perking up in his seat. “Maybe he is an upper one, if the block is good.”
“No, I don’t know if… well maybe. Put this in between your eyes,” Netto said as she handed Jack a wire with a bulbous end that flickered like a firefly. “There now, just stick it at the bridge of your nose.”
Jack complied.
Netto secured the other end of the wire to the box in her hand, and began to turn a few of the dials. The sound of static grew in the air. Jack heard a buzzing in his hears, on his eyes, louder and louder...
The next thing he knew, his head was splitting with pain. The buzzing ruptured in front of his eyes into a thousand different voices, a cacophony of sound, and a rush of feelings, numbers, meanings, whispers, waves of knowledge, a flood of knowledge and questions battered his brain, sweeping through him, his knees hit the floor, what is your name, where are you from, what do you feel, what are you?
Netto ripped the wire from Jack's face, and the sea of voices rushed out of him. Jack gasped, wide-eyed and trembling at the floor.
“Odd.” Netto returned her attention to the screen on her device.
“Damn, what the fuck did you do?”
Jack coughed, gagged, held his head.
“Not my fault.” Netto blew out a gust of air. “The kid’s never been connected before. He doesn’t have any bitmites to connect to.”
Jack managed to get to his feet. A few of the other teens were drawing nearer, drawn to the commotion. Their eyes bored into him, hypnotized. “Wh-what just happened?” Jack asked.
"He's not on colorshock, or any other drug for that matter," Netto explained. "And yeah–– he doesn't have any bitmites. I'll see if I can find any IDs that match his description."
“No colorshock? But he reeks of the stuff. I know an OD when I see one.”
"Never seen anything like this."
“Hey.” Darc looked at the others. “Cats. Scat. Go on, get.”
The other teens moved away, shooting Jack curious and unwelcome looks. He didn't return any of their gazes... instead he looked at Darc, the devil in green, with a darkness in his eyes that made those demonic horns befitting of him.
“Jack, do you remember where you’re from?”
"Um." If this was really a sealed off era, then they wouldn't know what he meant if he told the truth. They wouldn't believe him if he said he was from another time... there was one sure way to find out if this future knew about its past. "The City of All Cities?"
He looked for a spark of recognition in Darc's eyes, but found none.
“You’re really not going to believe this one,” Netto said. “But, I even checked it twice, and there’s no identified Jack here who looks like that. Or anyone who looks like that.”
“Well, I’m a man who’ll believe anything.” Darc smirked deviously at Jack. “So you’re not from LuxCultum. Apparently, you don’t exist. Cool.”