We were Dreamers once

[Sekot]

A city opened before him. A city of lights, without stars, in perpetual shadow. No sunlight, real or artificial, decorated the sky above. Bright lights, neons and halogens, reds and greens and yellows. Stretching toward the horizon and down the curvature of the world. No tower reached high enough, no tower crept upward to the same point. He stood above them all, looking out through tall, clear windows. He placed his hand against them, felt the cold penetrate through the thick barrier. He held it there for several moments measured in heartbeats and breaths that he could hear in the sterile surroundings.

He felt the presence behind him, knew instantly where he had finally been deposited. Though only few images existed of Above, there was one that stuck with him as a constant. A particular image, more propaganda then cherished archive, of a tower higher than all the others that glittered amongst the harsh light of the ever-city. A tower built upon towers built upon cities built upon a world. The crown. And within that crown, the bearer of that crown, was the reigning monarch. The god amongst the heavens. He allowed his hand to drop, unable to bear the weight that had begun to press upon him.

He turned, slowly, dragging his gaze around the empty room. Massive, it stretched for what appeared to be a mile in every direction. The walls were entirely made of glass which allowed the resident to have an unadulterated view of the world around them. The only light came from the floor which was a milky white when unlit and a soft blue when it was. The light itself rippled outward as if something was being dropped in it at random. Above there was a simulated sky complete with artificial stars.

And in the center was a tree made of wires and electricity. The many branches reached upward and the roots reached down. Equally they spread like a spider's web, tracing so many lines and pulling so many data from elsewhere. And kneeling before that tree was a woman dressed in a white gown that flowed around her and spilled onto the surrounding floor. Her black hair was cut short and within it was woven a string of lights that shifted in their color. His augmented eyes caught the straying of light beyond the normal spectrum. It was her he had come to see.

[Sekot]

"Who are you?"

Her voice was hollow. It lacked a certain resonance and instead was replaced with unsettling soullessness. He refused to respond, mentally digging in against whatever onslaught she had prepared. She had to have known, their predictions had relied upon her own.

"You do not respond."

Less observation of the obvious and more bored resignation. Still she did not turn to acknowledge him. She appeared to glow against the light of the floor. It was a reflected light, but the source was not of the room. Her gown pulsed just slightly, a rippling effect that started at the high collar and ran to the golden trimmed tips. The tree she sat before pulsed in a more rapid fashion. Streams of lights ran across it like so many fingers of electricity. Scattering in chaos, it alone appeared alive.

"Yggdrasil."

"Abomination."

His words even surprised himself. Impulse. Unthinking. Silence fell, and he became aware of the pulse in his ears. "Why?"

Her voice was maddeningly loud.

[Sekot]

The groan and stress of metal echoed constantly, a white noise that never went away as so much rested upon the last Level. He navigated through the narrow passages that only allowed three people shoulder to shoulder in most places, only one in others, out of pure memory for so little light existed to guide him. He would round corners and suddenly a tiny light from a fire was there to greet him, as well as the peering eyes of those gathered around it. The air-recyclers chugged and clunked as they struggled to contain the smoke that lay as an ever present haze in the air.

He stepped quickly over the trash and the broken pieces of various equipment. Unrecognizable any longer, anything that ended up this far down had been reduced to scrap and that scrap had been reduced even further. What existed was truly without worth of any kind to any one. Amongst all the background sound there was a stillness that existed, a peacefulness that belied the nature of the Level. In the dark, it was too easy to murder and steal and rarely worth the effort. Those who walked these streets knew how to defend themselves, knew each other by name and by smell. Nothing was hidden and all things revealed. No one came this far unless they had no choice.

He stopped around one corner. In the dim light of a salvaged lamp, two children were huddled over a make shift table. He heard their laughter just barely, could pick out only a few words. They had found something they believed valuable and were planning how best to turn it around into a meager profit. They had already begun the augmenting process, choosing a pair of tattoos to signify their bond. He smiled and was about to approach when they spotted him. They turned off their light in a hurry and fled the other direction, splitting up and darting into the labyrinthine passages. He heard them go, bare feet against metal sheets, and wished for a moment that he could join them. Just running through the narrow passages, leaping over obstacles and people, weaving one's way into the heart of the Level and back out.

[Sekot]

Rotating eyes in fabricated sockets. Harlequin smiles in half-faces. Come before the gods of the underworld, the gods of the Below. Nothing walks amongst the dark the impenetrable world of sleep and electricity. Descending upon wires and wires, tubes and twisting catheters. Eyes that glowed and eyes that were glazed. Eyes that were sharp. All minds attentive. Thousands upon thousands, decorating the ceiling like so many incandescent insects. Electrifying the wait the ecstasy to witness the rumor. We were dreamers once now the dream is actual.

Like twisting acrobats they descend. Unraveling unruling from the walls. Arms that were missing and arms too many. Fingers twitching as if playing across a thousand invisible keyboards. Articulating joints and jaws and convoluted reassembling of appendages. At one time at some time they were once alive but what were they now? They spoke they chattered such a haunting call that was merely above a whisper but still alive a thousand countless whispers all spoken at once and I. I was a listener watching and waiting for the audience of the infinity, waiting for that special moment. And hoping against hope that I wouldn't go blind.

"Who are you?!"

A long drawn out string of syllables that lost all meaning. It was only the in the echo that he recognized their speech and could translate it. One came down, a marionette a doll strung up. Lynched. Its jaw shuttered, shuddered. The words the sound came not from it but from around it. From all the others. Machinery and flesh a combination. He resisted the urge to vomit to spit up all of his life's food. From side to side the limp head rolled, training its one glowing eye on him and the other rolling about frantically searching from some resemblance of home. Muttering in that incessant whisper maybe it was really speaking a voice within voices.

And it spoke again and they all spoke again as one collective voice and underneath it he heard the whisper.

"Who are you?"

"Who am I?"

[Sekot]

And we laughed as the rain poured. We danced together underneath the flashing lightning. The wind tore at our wet clothes but we were so pressed together that it didn't matter. We laughed. Oh God we laughed. We smiled. My face hurt. That ache you get at the edges of your lips all up to your ears. We held each other close, he danced like a fool and I did my best to oblige. So much better than I, what was I even doing? I found myself always asking that question with him. He took me away to a distant place, to a far away place where the world itself had long since passed.

Breaths pass and I see his grey eyes and I can't help but giggle like a child. What am I even doing? God help me.

[Sekot]

And in the recesses, in the facades, on the walls and ceilings, there is placed upon them the art of the democratic mass. Scribbles and words and phrases measured by the weariness of one's arm. They glowed as if on fire and faded to almost nothing in an instant. Words written for their eyes, those special viewers. Audience members to the play written by those forgotten. Passing by they merely glance and emblazoned across their envisioned target is a warning, a love letter, or a friendly reminder, of what lies ahead and above.

These graffiti specialists duck and cower amongst the darkest of the holes, they come out at those special times. They blend amongst the crowds until the moment is ready. Then they let themselves go, they construct upon their chosen surface their chosen masterpiece. Unfortunate how quick their words fade, how quickly their names are forgotten. Images that are alive then fade in a blink.

[Sekot]

And maybe at one point god could have listened to us. And maybe we could have been...something more than this.

They held hands. Rested upon one another as the electric thump pounded on their walls. They whispered to one another in the quiet darkness of their room. He and her shared secrets, shared laughter. They quarreled and bitched. But in that end, together, they held each other close and listened to the outside sounds that permeated the thin walls. Another world, another place, another dimension they had crawled into to get away. To find peace.

There they could talk amongst themselves of all that had passed during their last meeting. Of all the friends they had seen, of all the friends they had lost, of all the scenes they had witnessed and wished to forget. They spoke within the confines of the resistance they personally waged. They shared a kiss, both deep and fleeting.

[Sekot]

As the music played in the background they crept along the darkened walls where eyes would not naturally wander. Screens to the fore captured the attention of the audience with pictures of impossible landscapes filled with strange vegetation all seated underneath a colored sky. As hills were bounded the music rose and as rivers of water crested over and down the tone fell. There were gasps and whispers aplenty as upon those screens a storm was conjured for their amusement. Artificially created natural lightning that snaked downward from the menacing cloud cover. Words to name concepts that none of them knew, strange to roll off the tongue even within the confines of their thoughts.

He stopped behind a couple seated at the very back. Their gloved hands were locked together on the armrest between their seats, their faces anchored squarely forward. He ran a finger across the brim of the woman's hat, felt the softness of it caress him back. He traced his fingers across the gentleman's collar, just barely. So enraptured were the pair that they did not notice. He leaned in close and pulled in their scent, the sweetness and thickness of the two mixing together in his nostrils to create a potent stench. He pulled himself back and continued his journey forward, the memory of the pair locked within.

The music came to a pause, the audience brought their hands together softly to imitate the sound that paired well with the image on the screens. Drops of water appeared on the glass, dribbled down it and collected at the base. They appeared one after another, smashing themselves against it in some vain attempt to fashion a way inside. He wanted to shout something at the screen, at those watching it and having no concept of the waste they were all witnessing.

He came to the end. Stairs led up to the stage, floated before him expectantly. He could ascend those stairs, he could become a part in this play. He could bellow out all the words he had gathered within him, all the words he had wanted to throw at those who now sat quietly before him. But no, he could not manage to lift his foot onto the first platform. It was not yet his turn.

Instead he waited for the final moment. Even now the crowd was growing restless, anticipating the return of the orchestra hidden from their view. In their imaginations, they expected the hidden members to be gathering their various instruments, to be talking amongst each other at how best they might perform and entertain those that had paid so much to see them. They wanted their own auditory apotheosis, they demanded their aided ascension into the echelon of the social gods and goddesses of Above. They mimed their way into the Hall and they would mime their way out of it. If those from Below would allow it.

[Sekot]

What little lights there were died. The entire chamber was plunged into darkness. The orchestra that had just begun its triumphant return shut off mid-note. One curtain pulled away. And another. Screams rose from the crowd, so few had experienced a world without light. So few knew what it was like to never see one's hand before their own face. They had been asleep too long. Now they were awoken.

A voice rang loud and clear over their shouts and cries and chatter. A voice spoke over the same speakers that had blared the angelic music just moments before. "We have danced amongst the darkness, we have lived without light. How uncomfortable you sound right now, how laughable, how contemptible."

More shouts. Men and women alike raised their voices against getting so openly mocked. Their station demanded respect and they would have it! "As we die, as we're trampled and our homes are raided, you sit in your comfortable chairs pretending."

The lights came on, more than before and brighter. The chamber in its entirety was revealed under the off-white of halogen beams. Gaunt faces with clownish designs written across them were revealed in all their splendor to the neighbors. Quiet. No shouts or declarations were made. Instead they sat in open mouthed horror. Time had halted. A few noticed before the rest those that lined the walls. Dressed in their own particular finery, those newcomers stood resplendent in tattered dresses and patchwork suits. Heavily powdered faces and drawn-on eyes, purple lips that glowed a vibrant pink and tattoos that pulsed in every color of the rainbow. Implants protruded from underneath their skin, enhanced shoulder blades and sharp-as-knives cheekbones. Bare chests, bare breasts all left out to see.

[Sekot]

He sipped from the glass, the thick red liquid sloshing against his barely open mouth. Lowering the drink, he licked his lips and smiled. His head rolled on his long, thin neck and he laughed quietly. "Do you see them?"

He gestured lazily with a finger followed by a flap of his hand as he took another drink. "Those lovely souls."

The drink disappeared past his burnt-cherry red lips. Cerulean eyeshadow accentuated his steely-grey eyes that peeked out from under heavy lids. He set the glass on the illuminated counter and ran his skeletal fingers through his thick lion's mane of rainbow hair. He shook his head from side to side as if releasing a great deal of tension held within and the tail of his hair brushed along the long-dulled floor. Turning fully around on his chair, he presented himself toward the crowd that clustered in the center of the vast, empty space punctured only by the chaotic flashing lasers and strobes. Music hummed and thumped in their chests, their hearts playing in tune. "Watch how they dance, my love. Watch how they move. So many lovers. So many listful, lustful, wandering souls caught in an imaginary period of time."

He adjusted the bust wrapped tightly around his chest, smoothed it clean. "Worshiping at the shrines of desire, we who have fled to the darkest places fear the encroaching power we do not know."

He smiled again, but his gaze had gone beyond the crowd, had traveled upward into the impenetrable dark above. "Quiet," he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "I can hear it. I can hear them. Beating down the hatches. Beating down the doors and the screams! Oh the screams! Dragged out."

He looked downward, looked side to side. His eyes danced within their sockets. "We have fled as far as we can, haven't we? Come then, let us join them."

He rose from his chair.

"Let us dance our lives away."

[Sekot]

The weapon was slowly lowered until the thin, black barrel was squarely pointed at the center of the smiling face. The smile held no lie within it, only the truth of sheer ecstasy behind it. Wide and toothy, it almost enveloped the entirety of the thin face it sat upon. Sunken eyes surrounded by purple sacs darted in all directions, so many interesting stimulating images to concentrate on. The pistol before it never registered. The gloved hand attached to the weapon tightened its grip against the unexpected reaction. "Angel of Death come to exact retribution?"

The voice from the smile was unnerving. High pitched and squeaky, the audio receptors in the helmet struggled to register it as a human voice. Scars on the trachea, which it itself was exposed to the open air. Disgusted the hand pulled the trigger. The smile became set in stone as the head flew back followed by the torso. Like a pile of dominoes, the corpse came to rest on the dust covered floor. More sharp pops of other discharged pistols and more corpses joined the first. The executor holstered their weapon against their thigh and took a step back. Smoke lay heavily in the air as fires still crackled on top of furniture and clothes and other bodies. The helmet graciously cut off any stench from the outside, only the sickly sweet stench of recycled air and their own body odor assaulted their nostrils. Other white clad Executors picked their way carefully through the mire searching for any remaining signs of heresy or heretic.

Their mission complete, they left. The hole behind them collapsed, leaving only a wall behind it.

[Sekot]

Fade to black and the crowd went silent. Smiling faces, pupils dilated in full attention. "We were lovers, dreamers. And now we're partakers, we are..."

Lights flashed and the scene came to life for a heartbeat then stepped back.

"Well...we all know what we are."

Applause and cheers rippled through the crowd gathered, the crowd alive. Their hands came together and they jumped up and down. The music began, sharp cracks and pops and the strobes awoke the sleep-deprived. Electric energy snaked between the spaces left by the myriad bodies that gyrated and rubbed against one another.

"Take me to your church, let me pray at the altar of your sin. Force me to my knees so I can be bestowed upon your reverence."

Slow and powerful, it was a sea full of rolling waves that met one another in crushing ecstasy. The lights on the stage illuminated those few chosen to be the entertainment, what encouragement was needed was miniscule but best to keep appearances. He smiled as he stood on the floating disc, the neon blue light shining from his feet cast long shadows across his body. He was acutely aware of their gaze, of their collective, collected rapture.

His body moved along its own particular axes, twisting through space in complete synchrony to the symphonic beat that played in his ears. It seeped through the cracks in his mind, separated his conscious and inhabited the id space. Heartbeats gathered at his fingertips, built in momentum as they stretched up his arms. They balled together at his shoulders and shook his torso. His dance was as varied and ecstatic, as destructive and carnal as the beat itself. His pupils constricted and dilated, sharp light sending arcs of pain through his skull, along his jaw. He could taste the acrid sweat in the air, he could taste their drug-fueled breaths as they were released in gasps and screams. He could hear them cheer, hear them kiss and fuck on the floor. Time unwound, rebound, and he knew nothing of space.

He saw them reaching for him, saw them grasping for his flesh. He smiled at them, moved just within their reach. He allowed them to rub their hands across his chest, his legs, but pulled away. A tease that kept them wanting. Panting. A smoothness to his motion, a liquid nature that bit and snapped like a hissing snake. Lightning arced through the not-space above, illuminating the vast nothing and getting lost within it. They, the crowd, were churned up, were lifted out of themselves. Their souls were exiled, made to wander as their bodies enjoyed.

"Sisters and brothers, he has yet to be named. A fresh virgin here for your enjoyment. Name him, consecrate him. Whisper it to me, your dear old mother."

Names were issued, amongst them one was picked.

"Rave. Ravenous."

[Sekot]

She stepped inside the compound, was instantly taken aback by the steam that clouded the air. Sweat immediately broke out on her exposed skin, the intensity of the heat making her immediately uncomfortable. She took another step, her booted heel clicking loudly against the marbled floor. The door slid shut behind her, locking her within the sauna prison. Movement out of the corner of her eye caused her to turn her head. Running along the wall, a school of fish floated. With their thousand eyes they watched her.

"Come in."

The voice echoed and startled her. She dragged her gaze away from the multicolored specimens, suddenly aware of how many there were in the space around her. Unable to differentiate between their reality and falseness, she resigned herself to acknowledging them and avoiding them as best she could. Large and small, they swam through the steam clouds, appearing and disappearing at random. She licked her lips, steeled her jaw, and continued her journey through the mess.

The deeper she went the more oppressive the heat became and the more her vision was clouded. Her footsteps slowed and her suit clung to her. The fish still swam close, flitting in and out of her view like flashes of light. And then the veil parted and she was dumped into an open space. The floor sloped downward and became a bubbling pool. On the opposite end stood a white robed figure, their back turned to her.

"Welcome."

The same voice. This time it lacked the echo but instead carried a heavy weight behind it that forced her to listen.

[Sekot]

"My child, you have arrived."

He turned. Her breath caught in her throat, her tongue felt heavy. The face itself was a mass of flesh that rippled as it struggled to fight against the wrinkled signs of age. Two eyes looked out from under heavy brow, they too waxing and waning in incandescent light. It was then that other signs fell into place. The cloak he wore was lumpy in odd places, bulges erupted and descended as if it were air coming and going through the light fabric. "Do not be ashamed to look upon me!" he spread his arms out and smiled a smile without teeth.

"Rejection is a cruel thing."

The makeup of his face contorted as he spoke, it struggled to come up with something presentable as the machinery behind it all failed. He took a few steps closer, shuffling along feet that were missing toes. The floating fish darted in and out of the cloudy steam but never came too close. They made themselves known before darting away. She wondered if they were lost, trying to escape as she felt she had to do. This was wrong.

"We do not Reject."

He smiled again and took a few more steps, bowed, and spoke: "But here I am."

"Inquisitor...I don't understand."

"You do not Reject, that is true. But I am, sadly, not one of you."

It was true. Rejection was possible, but it was rare. Those that did were shunned and dropped into Below. "Who are you?"

He stood only a handful of feet before her. She had become too firmly rooted to flee now, and she knew that he would find her eventually. He placed a hand on her and it was simultaneously cold and warm. "I have wondered that myself, never quite sure. Until now."

He gestured toward the pool just beside them.

[Sekot]

He turned toward her and a ripple crept across his face followed by another and another. The flesh pulled at itself as it attempted to adjust to whatever image it was that the master wished to project. Whatever machinery hid behind it was failing. His eyes peeked out from underneath a heavy brow, and they glowed incandescent purple and cobalt blue. A smile spread across his face and the teeth within it also shuddered. She recognized it instantly, his affliction, and that realization caused her to clutch her stomach. "So you've noticed?"

His voice was a croak, a gravelly whisper. She nodded in meek agreement. "Rejection."

Her own voice barely kept from shaking, she wanted to be like the fish that darted in and out of the fog. They kept coming only to turn away the moment they seemed to break free. Trapped. Unable to get out. All they could do was swim in circles. "But how?" she asked.

He shuffled closer to her and stretched out his hands to offer an embrace. She noticed that his white robe billowed as if it were caught in a wind, but as he neared she noticed the fleshy masses that were bubbling just underneath the light fabric. "Inquisitor, I do not understand. Rejection is impossible for you."

He placed his hands on her shoulder and she felt an odd mixture of temperature emanate from them. He pulled her closer into an actual embrace and she pressed her ear against his chest. In any other she would be comforted by the soft sounds of whirring and clicking, but in this chest all she heard was rhythmic noise. A haunting, hollow thump thump against her cheek. She tried to push herself away but resistance met her equally. His grip was a vice, his embrace a choke-hold.

"Clouds have gathered on the eternal horizon. Water has ceased its unintelligible trickle. And what we are left with is is the growing chasm."

His words made no sense. Clouds?

"A battle between good and evil dwells in a center that cannot hold. You, my child, have partaken in the advent of a new kind of warfare. One that we few Inquisitors will be unable to seek out and eradicate. The heretics have penetrated the deepest conclaves, have penetrated us and seeped their hands in our sacred fluid. Spilled, we are dripping into the darkness."

He released his hold on her and pushed her back to arm's length. His stare penetrated hers and she felt her mind empty. A vision. A nightmare scene swam into her view.

Neon fish swam out of blackness. Electric daisies danced underneath a thousand, a million suns. Fingers erupted from black steel and reached upward to grasp and spin. White spots of heat and agony crumpled before the waves of ecstatic touch. But as quickly as the lights came they fell away. They were chewed apart and smothered underneath golden veils and clockwork fire. Through it all she heard that peculiar rhythm, repeated countless times until it was drilled into her. Until it became her. It all called to her, whispered in her ear of her part in this turmoil. But she knew none of the words.

And then it all went black and silence fell. She opened her eyes and pushed herself out of the pool of water. Gasping, she stifled a scream as she looked for the Inquisitor. He had disappeared, as had the fog. What a tiny room it was.