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The first time she opens her eyes and thinks a thought—I’m awake—her eyes go to the city escape in front of her, glittering in the night. After the half-second it takes to organize her memories into tiny, neat clusters of information, she gets a name: Cloudbank. She’s at the edge of the city; there’s a fine, dotted line in blue green on the ground. She steps over it and instantly knows she cannot go back.
There’s an urge to look behind, to see what she left in her hasty decision, but her head doesn’t turn no matter how much she tries. She moves forward.
A melody follows her. Everytime she tries to tune in, to catch the notes, it flies away just out of reach. But it never vanishes.
She walks deeper into the city.
It doesn’t take long to settle. As soon as someone sees her, she’s led to a terminal. She just needs to enter her name and the system will find a place for her.
“Name?” she asks, and almost starts at how her voice sounds. The person nods.
She takes a few seconds to sift through her memories, but nothing comes up. She has no name. A slight panic threatens to rise, but she squashes it with force. The terminal beeps in front of her, patiently awaiting her input. Its screen it’s slightly reflective, and she catches a glimpse of bright red hair atop her head.
She inputs RED into the terminal. It beeps its acceptance.
The kind stranger claps her on the shoulder and walks away, but not before saying, “Welcome to Cloudbank, Red.”
Her address is Apartment 3, Terrace Apartments, Terrace Plaza, Highrise District. There are instructions on how to get there, along with other information pertaining to herself. She places a hand on the terminal and commits the map to memory.
Stepping away from it, she takes a look around and decides that her apartment can wait.
She’s going exploring. (The melody still haunts her.)
Much, much later, she will remember this as the first time she saw the empty Crash() function attached to her file. But right now everything is new and glittering and vying for her attention, and she is easily distracted by it all.
She spends her first few months getting to know the little corners of the city and ignoring the melodies crowding her mind. One of Red’s favorite places, aside from her cute apartment, is Fairview Island. She usually goes by boat, and can spend hours walking around, people-watching while the soft waves crash around her. She likes the water, and some part of her mourns that her place is so far away from it.
Another one of her favorites is Junction Jan’s, on the Goldwalk district. The food there is delicious, and she orders their takeout almost every weekend.
It’s right outside Junction Jan’s that she meets Auden for the first time.
It’s a warm night, the sky in shades of purple and deep pinks, when Red decides to go to Junction Jan’s for once. She’s getting a little bit sick of her apartment and the view from it, even though it’s lovely.
(She needs people talking around her. Their voices help drown the voiceless songs in her head).
When she gets there, the place is packed. She’s determined to wait in line when a sound grabs her attention. A few steps away from the entrance, there’s a bench in dark grey stone. A man sits there with an acoustic guitar in his arms. He plucks the strings again.
Red stares.
The music in her head is... subdued. Not entirely gone, but resting, calm for the first time since she opened her eyes.
She doesn’t notice she’s moving, forgoing the line, until she stands right in front of the stranger. He looks up as her shadow falls on him.
She stares for another reason then; black eyes stare back at her, the man’s face set in a curious expression. His skin is tanned and he’s in a white shirt and black pants, a black jacket thrown over the shirt. His muscled arms are wrapped with white gauze that vanish under the jacket’s arms.
He smiles at her.
“Hey, there. Do you play?” he asks. His voice is deep and a little bit rough, but his tone is gentle.
Red feels her cheeks color even as she shakes her head. What is she doing, bothering a stranger who’s clearly occupied? But she doesn’t move from her spot. His eyes keep her glued there.
He tilts his head and his smile widens. He doesn’t seem to notice the effect he’s having on her. She thinks that’s sweet.
“Any requests, my lady?”
She asks for one of the songs that have been playing on the terminals for a while now, a pop-y melody with soft vocals. Her stranger chuckles, but doesn’t deny the request. She’s barely aware that she’s moving to sit beside him when he starts to play.
Red knows that he’s singing in a lower pitch than the original song, and she can predict the notes he’s going to play before he plays them. She doesn’t know how that knowledge got into her brain.
When his eyes jump to her in surprise, it takes Red a second to realize she’s humming along, harmonizing with his voice. She doesn’t stop; he doesn’t either.
When the song is done, the people around them start clapping. She blushes again and berates herself for intruding, but he’s smiling at her, and she can’t regret it.
Red likes his smile.
“Thank you for your lovely addition, Ms... ”
“Red,” she says, and her voice comes softer than she wants. “You can call me Red.”
He smiles. “Thank you, Red.” And then he’s gone.
She forgets to eat at Junction Jan’s and goes back home in a hungry daze. It’s only after she cooks, eats and falls into bed, hours later, that she realizes the melodies in her head were quiet, for once.
She needs to find out who he is.
It’s by sheer luck that she bumps into him on her way to Fairview. It’s early morning, cool breeze ruffling her hair and the sky a pretty, pale shade of sea green. She turns a corner and smashes her face against something hard.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” A deep voice rumbles in front of her. Strong hands hold her forearms to keep her from crashing to the ground.
She’s already smiling when she looks up. (She’s not blushing. She’s not.)
“It’s okay, it was my fault,” she says. The look on his face when he realizes it’s her it’s worth that embarrassment.
“Oh! Hello, Red.”
“Hello... ” she trails off, waiting for him to sate her curiosity. A part of her is immensely pleased that he remembers her. Another part of her is embarrassed when she remembers that she intruded on his time and that’s probably why he memorized her name.
“Auden.”
“Hello, Auden. I’m sorry for last time, I didn’t mean to intrude on your solo act.”
He smiles and his face goes soft around the edges. “That was absolutely not a problem, I assure you.”
She smiles back and gathers her courage.
“I was going for a walk around Fairview. Would you like to come along?”
She relishes his surprised expression when he answers, “I’d love that.”
So her solitary morning stroll turns into a nice walk as she gets to know a little more about Auden. He’s a boxer, not a professional though, only practices because he likes it and it keeps his body in shape.
She’s not doing anything right now, she confesses, but plans on going to Traverson Hall for civic planning—perhaps skypainting. Farrah Yon-Dale’s work is beautiful and Red is curious. They discuss the merits of skypainting versus urban planning, as Red takes them onto the path that leads to a cozy little bakery tucked in a corner of Fairview.
They spend breakfast talking about Cloudbank in general, and Red manages to skirt around the topic of music for most of the morning.
They’re getting back just as the sun is reaching its peak in the sky, the sway of the boat lulling her a little, even though is far from gentle, when Auden asks what she’s been dreading.
“Your humming the other night was very good. You managed to follow along with the harmony very smoothly.”
She keeps her eyes glued to the water as Auden speaks beside her. She can feels his gaze, gentle but inquisitive, and a part of her knows she’s going to answer anything he asks. It’s a good thing she’s not the one manning the boat, because her concentration is all on the melodies slowly building behind her eyelids.
“So why is it that you seem to not like music in general?”
“How did you figure it out?”
“You weren’t very subtle in trying to change the subject whenever I started talking about it,” he answers, but his face is relaxed when she looks over. There’s even a slight smile on his face, like he’s trying to make her feel at ease, and she’s grateful for it.
“There’s this—I’ve been—” Her words don’t come out right. She takes a deep breath and tries again. “Since I woke up, there are melodies swimming around in my head.”
“That... that sounds like you already know what you came here to do. So why aren’t you working on music?”
“They scare me,” she whispers, voice almost lost in the crashing of water against the boat.
A few seconds of silence follow her statement, but Red is not bothered by it. It’s the first time she’s said it out loud—the notes constantly playing in her mind do scare her, that’s not an euphemism. There is something dark about them, something foreboding.
A bad omen.
“Well, if they’re scary, you should transform them into something less scary,” Auden says, no nonsense voice carrying over the wind. She looks at him in curiosity. He smiles at her with the air of someone who’s pretty certain of what they’re talking about.
“If those melodies scare you, make them into something that you can actually control. Make music.”
Make music? A shudder runs down her spine at that.
“You already have the voice. You only lack musical theory.”
“I—” There’s something forming in her mind, the notes swirling around like they’re agreeing with Auden. Somewhere deep inside her mind she already knew what she came here to do. She just didn’t want to accept it, but months running away are clearly not working—she still wakes up sometimes with a brand new melody trapped inside her head, trying to claw its way out.
“...I guess you’re right.”
Next time they meet—outside Red’s apartment, in a quiet little corner overviewing the city—Auden has his acoustic guitar and Red has a notebook and a pen.
She’s really doing this, isn’t she?
She takes a deep breath, enjoying the way the melodies shush when Auden starts playing. He promised to teach her all he knows, and she promised to learn to the best of her abilities. (It’s easy to pay attention to him, although he doesn’t need to know that.)
Two months later, she plays her first song on Auden’s guitar.
It’s not a song that’s been playing on the terminals. This is her own song, one of the dozens that haunt her days and nights. The wood vibrates under her fingers as she plucks the nylon strings, the first words of an unnamed piece leaving her lips.
I see the lights
Dance on the bay
All of the dark falls away
A glow from the heights
Glances along the water's skin
Nimble and bright
Swallowed in
It’s her own homage to Cloudbank. She hopes people enjoy it, whenever she feels confident enough to release her songs to the public.
She has only this little part for now, and when she stops Auden says, “Y’know... I’ve already taught you everything I know and you picked it up at an alarming rate.” He chuckles at her sheepish expression. “Perhaps it’s time for you to seek higher education, no?”
Which is something she’s been thinking about, whenever she can’t sleep.
“Yeah... Traverson Hall seems like a good place to start,” she says, putting the guitar by her feet. “I wanted to go to learn skypainting, but... I really like music.”
And it’s like some weight has been lifted off her shoulders when she says it out loud. Auden smiles at her. “I’ve been waiting for you to admit that.”
She laughs. It’s a nice way to start her morning—Auden, music, and the lilac sky atop them. She’s so happy she barely realizes she’s just grabbed Auden’s hand in her own.
But that’s okay; he doesn’t complain.
A year later, she enrolls into Traverson Hall.
She knows their music program is not robust. In fact, most of their arts program is seriously lacking. Even the linguistic program is a joke compared to some others. She intends to change that.
Some professors and fellow students look at her like they don’t really know what she’s doing there, which is fair, because sometimes she still wonders what she’s doing there too. After campaigning with some classmates for a better arts program, she was invited to help plan an update for it and put it in motion.
It was an honor that she will never forget.
By the time the program is well on its way to a renewed state, years after she first joined Traverson Hall, Red has learned everything she can about the acoustic guitar, the piano, musical composition, and lyrics writing.
But her true love—and here is the real kicker—is singing.
She was used to humming along with songs from the terminals around the city, with Auden’s voice whenever he deemed to sing, and with her own instruments when she thought no one was around to hear her.
But to step into the spotlight and admit, if not to the world then at least to herself, that singing was her ultimate passion and her ultimate goal in Traverson Hall?
A year and a half ago she would have laughed if someone had said that. A year and a half ago she would have huddled under her blankets and ignored the way the melodies sometimes screamed into her mind, wanting to get out out out; she would have started shaking at the mere thought of uttering words to go along with the persistent notes.
But now she understands.
When she puts pen to paper and jots down her ideas and words and notes, everything calms down. The straining melodies go soft, and the fear she used to feel has long since gone.
This is why she’s here. This is what she was meant to do.
And she loves it.
A month after graduation, Red meets Sybil Reisz for the first time.
It’s not the first time she’s heard about Sybil, definitely, but the woman has very little reason to mingle with students. Now that Red is not a student anymore, and it’s starting on her own humble road to fame, it’s inevitable that her and Sybil’s path end up crossing.
It’s a small event; up-and-coming artists are invited to participate and show off their music and their art.
Red receives her invitation through traditional mail. It’s a pretty envelope in whites and reds, the paper thick and textured, clearly high-end. The wax seal in blood red shows off an umbrella, Sybil’s icon—she is never seen without it. The written invitation inside is just as deluxe as the outside. (Even though that’s her name on the envelope, Red feels like she shouldn’t be touching it.)
Dear Ms. Red,
You’ve been cordially invited to be part of our 16th Annual Festival For Small Artists, organized by the esteemed Sybil Reisz. The event will take place at Goldwalk Plaza, 21-12-62, at 14:00.
Please RSVP on the closest terminal.
The message is so short, Red resists the urge to roll her eyes at the pompous way it’s been delivered. She still leaves her home and heads to the closest terminal, where she accepts the invitation. No point in passing up good opportunities. Also, no point in denying the way the melodies dance in delight inside her head.
Then she goes in search of Auden—she must tell him the good news!
She finds him leaving Junction Jan’s at 5 PM in afternoon, and teases him about it. “Dinner at this time of day? Tsk tsk.”
He starts and turns to her, and a smile blooms on his face. Red loves that smile.
“Any time of day is time for Sea Monster, Red. You should know this,” Auden says. “Did you come here to eat? I’ll accompany you.”
Red laughs. “Didn’t you just eat?”
“I did. I’ll still accompany you.” Then he reaches out his arm. Red hesitates for half a second before twining her arm with his. She looks up—he’s so tall—and says, “I have good news!”
“Oh? Then we must celebrate accordingly!” He leads her back inside Junction Jan’s.
The look on his face when she tells him of the event is enough to make her preen under the dim lights of the place. They order double dessert to celebrate, and Red’s cheeks hurt from so much smiling, but one look at Auden smiling back at her and she can’t contain herself.
She doesn’t want to, really.
They spend most of the night there, and then Auden takes her home.
(“I can take care of myself.”
“I’d never suggest otherwise, Red.”
“Then... ?”
“...I just want to spend a little more time with you.”
“Oh.”)
Two weeks later, when the event date comes, Auden is waiting at her door when she steps outside. He’s in his usual clothes, but Red never tires of admiring him in those. What is kind of new is the way he’s looking at her. Or at least she’s just never realized it before.
Red shuffles a little as she locks the door, self-conscious in a way she hasn’t been in months. The dress she picked is a blue between sky and sea, short and simple to highlight her eyes—at least that’s what the lady at the shop said.
“You look beautiful.”
“Thank you, Auden.”
“Then again, you’re always beautiful.”
“...thank you.”
“Is that a blush?”
“Shut up.”
A chuckle. “As you wish, my lady.”
They arrive at the plaza almost an hour earlier, but the place is already buzzing with life. Red leads Auden to the closest chairs, already in place for the performances, and they sit in comfortable silence.
She catches a glimpse of a red and white umbrella through the crowd, but doesn’t see the need to go and talk to Sybil. They don’t know each other. Most people who seem to be from the organization team are running around, excited chatter permeating the air.
She feels the excitement thrum through her bones. This is the first time she’s going to perform for so much people.
“Nervous?” Auden asks, leaning slightly to the side, head close to hers so he can be heard over the racket.
She smells his cologne and resists the urge to bury her face into his neck. They’re not quite there yet, although they’ve been dancing around one another for longer than she likes to admit.
“Yes, but also excited.”
“Everything will work out. It’s you. How could it go any way but amazingly?”
She giggles in pleasure, knowing full well he’s trying to distract her from her nerves. It’s definitely working. The hour passes quickly, and before she knows it, they’re calling her name.
When Red steps onto the stage, her eyes go straight to Auden as the first notes for She Shines come through the speakers. She doesn’t know if he notices it, but that doesn’t matter right now. The pleased smile on his face keeps her nerves at bay. The lights dim when the drum hits for the first time, and she absent-mindedly appreciates the light show throughout her song.
The song ends in a high note and the chords of an electric guitar. There’s a split second of silence in which her head is blissfully quiet, then the whole plaza erupts in applause. She bows and steps away, floating in adrenaline, not noticing the way Sybil’s eyes follow her through the stage.
In fact, she doesn’t notice much of anything aside from loud voices congratulating her and Auden’s eyes glued to hers as she makes her way to her chair.
She sits down and asks, breathless, “How did I do?”
He kisses her hand. Her toes curl inside her blue slippers.
“You did splendidly.”
On their way to her apartment, Auden asks her if he may kiss her.
“Yes, please.”
They kiss under a deep, dark pink sky with stars like points of gold. He goes home with her.
(The haunting melodies never rest, though, and the beginnings of a song start playing in her mind.
I will always find you
Like it's written in the stars)
Three years of medium-sized fame and Red’s life is pretty good. She’s got her music, her peace of mind (finally), and her lover.
Then, obviously, things start going wrong.
Four years down the road, a fight breaks out on one of Red’s performances. She finishes the last line of her latest hit (You know it's mine, twisted and tied) and prepares to bow, when people start shouting in the crowd. Someone screams in fear.
She can barely see with all the lights shining in her face, but the crowd seems to be panicking. Red exits the stage quickly, worried.
Auden is there by her side in an instant, trying to keep her from moving.
“Don’t. It’s just some guy who started a fight, probably drunk or something.”
Red subsides then, trusting Auden, but she can’t help wondering what could have set the man off. In all her years as a professional singer, this has never happened. Although something can be said about the political climate currently permeating the city
They wait backstage for the ruckus to calm down, but it takes a while. Red starts worrying again, until she hears someone mention there are administrators on the scene.
Instead of assuaging her worries, the information just makes her more anxious. Things were so bad people called the administrators? She looks at Auden, a question on her face, and he looks back with a shrug. In the back of her mind Red feels the tiny apprehension that’s always followed her start to grow.
She remembers years ago, on a boat on a sunny morning, when she first told Auden she was scared of her music.
A bad omen, she had thought.
Twisted and tied, she sung tonight.
A shiver runs down her spine. This. This is exactly what she’s been fearing all along.
When the crowd calms down and the administrators leave, Sybil is suddenly there, regal face set in a worried frown. Red feels Auden stiffen a little beside her.
“Red, my dear, I am glad you are alright,” Sybil says, twirling her umbrella behind her. “Things got out of hand tonight, but do not worry, the administrators have taken care of it.”
“Thank you, Sybil. I guess people were just a little too passionate tonight. It happens.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” Sybil’s eyes flicker over Auden for a moment, and Red clenches her hand into a fist. She’s not jealous; she’s worried. She doesn’t like the way Sybil looks at Auden when she thinks no one’s paying attention.
Sybil looks at Auden like she wants him to vanish.
“Well, we should be going,” Auden says, warm hand on Red’s back, guiding her toward the exit and away from Sybil. She goes gladly.
When they get home that night, Red tells Auden she wants to step back for a time, to concentrate on her lyrics and melodies, and not think about everything that’s been falling apart in Cloudbank—people’s data disappearing from the terminals, districts being taken offline for a maintenance that never happens, and random fights breaking out between citizens.
Auden looks at her like he was expecting it.
“Whatever you want,” he says, warm arms closing in around her. She buries her face on his shoulder and breathes him in. As long as she has Auden and music, she will be alright.
The next day, the disturbance during her performance takes the headlines. One of the suspects banned from the premises accuses Red of being an instigator and provocateur.
She knows it’s true. Her music was always meant to be provocative; it’s the reason she hesitated for so long about pursuing it. But it’s too late now. She loves what she does, and she knows it’s important. Something inside her urges her forward, and she vows to never stop.
Auden takes her out on a date that afternoon, for a much needed break. They go watch a friendly match between the Highrise Hammers and the Sunset Clientele.
(“Hey, would you like to be my bodyguard?”
“Silly of you to assume I haven’t being guarding you since that day in Fairview.”
“...Are you saying it was not a coincidence that we bumped into each other that morning?”
“My lips are sealed.”
“Oh my, you silly man. Also, stalker.”
“You love me.”
“I do.”)
Red stays on hiatus for almost a year. When she tells Auden she wants to go back to big performances, he only smiles and kisses her on the forehead. The tension she didn’t realize she was carrying leaves her shoulders. She can always count on him for support.
As much as she doesn’t want to, she contacts Sybil, and asks for a scheduled performance on the Empty Set. Sybil sounds extremely delighted, which Red finds quite strange, but then again, Sybil lives for this, and Red was definitely one of the most attention-bringing performers Sybil could get her hands on.
They agree on three weeks from now, so that everyone has time to prepare.
When Red steps away from the terminal, she feels like she just took a decision that’s gonna change her life.
She goes back home with a smile on her face and a spring in her step. Those three weeks pass in a blur.
The day of her comeback is a hurricane. She spends all her morning worried about her new song (what if people hate it), and all her afternoon sewing a last minute addition to her gown. After an early dinner with Auden, she gets ready alone, because she wants to surprise him.
All her frantic work during the afternoon is worth it for the look on his face. She steps out of her room and smiles at him, a little shy under his heavy gaze.
“What do you think?”
Her large black belt now sports a glowing inverted triangle, yellow gold glittering under the kitchen light. The same triangle Auden uses on his jacket.
“Is that what you were fretting over today?” he asks, voice rough with something.
“Mhmm. I thought it would look nice. So, how does it look?”
Auden gets up from where he’s sprawled on a chair, steps large and sure as he walks over to her. Red’s arm hairs rise at the way he looks her from her toes to her face. He settles a big, tanned hand on her cheek and another on her waist.
“Lovely,” he answers, right before kissing her and taking off some of her lipstick. She doesn’t mind.
Red’s never seen the Empty Set so full.
She peeks from around the curtains at the people walking around and chatting excitedly. They’re wondering if she’s going to present them with new songs, asking each other if they’ve seen her arrive yet, and she’s sure she hears someone talking about her lover as well.
All in all, everyone’s acting just like she remembers. A thrill of excitement runs through her spine.
She turns around with a big grin on her face and bounds back to her dressing room. Auden is sitting on the couch, looking at her with amusement.
“Looked your fill?” he asks.
“Yes!” She does a little dance as she makes her way to him, falling into his arms. “I can’t wait to get out there and smack everyone in the face with the new song!”
Auden laughs, a low sound that makes her wish they had more time alone. “And I can’t wait to see all their smacked faces,” he says, kissing her cheek. A little beep from the speakers in the room lets her know she has five minutes until starting time.
She fusses a little at her hair and makeup, but everything’s in place. She’s just nervous, though there’s no reason to be. She’s practiced the new song so much she can sing it in her sleep, the melodies in her head are muffled and soft tonight, and Auden is a steady presence. Everything’s fine.
“Hey.” Auden’s voice cuts through her cloud of worry. “You’ll be magnificent. And when you finish, I’ll be waiting.”
“You better be,” she says, cheeky smile coming easy to her lips.
They leave the room and move closer to the stage. Auden leaves her there and goes to take his place in the first row of chairs—she always makes sure he gets front row.
As she’s waiting for her cue to go up on the stage, Sybil appears at the corner of her vision. Red tenses a little, but forces herself to smile. There’s no need to antagonize Sybil, especially since she organized all of this in the first place.
“Hello, Red. You look beautiful in this gown,” Sybil says, her smile just a touch too large. Red ignores it.
“Thank you, Sybil. I should also thank you for putting this together so quickly. I know my request came out of nowhere.”
“Nonsense. You know you were one of the best attractions our events ever got. I was glad to hear from you again. Cloudbank has not been the same without your music.”
“Then I shall endeavor to make tonight count,” Red says, smiling despite herself.
“Of that I have no doubt, my dear.” Sybil kisses her softly on the cheek before disappearing again, presumably to go take her seat.
A beep. One minute. Red straightens her gown for the last time and closes her eyes. Her mind is quiet, like the melodies themselves are holding their breath.
Another beep. Ten seconds.
Beep.
She smiles and takes the steps to the stage.
If someone asks her what happened during her performance, she knows she’ll never be able to respond. All she knows is that she got on the stage and sang the first words (When you speak I hear silence), and everything swayed with her. It was like the world had been waiting. Like the songs in her head had been waiting. (We all become one)
At some point during the song, she got a hold of Auden’s eyes and didn’t let go until she had to bow.
She gets off the stage and is instantly inundated with people, but just as suddenly Auden is there, guiding her away from the crowd and leading her back to her dressing room. As soon as he closes the door she’s on him, grabbing the lapels of his jacket and bringing him down to plant a wet kiss on his mouth.
He laughs and picks her up, spinning her around once, twice, before settling her down again.
“Happy?” he asks, grinning down at her.
“Happy,” she answers, grinning up at him.
They hole themselves up in her dressing room to wait out the crowd. She gratefully sprawls on the couch, kicking her high heels away with a groan. Auden takes his jacket off and sits beside her. She admires the muscles on his arms as he folds the jacket. He notices her looking and smiles slowly, clearly pleased.
Putting the jacket aside, he glues himself to her side and puts an arm around her shoulders. She rests her head on him with a happy sigh.
It takes a while for the noise outside to die down. When they’re almost sure they’re alone, Auden peeks his head from around the door and listens closely.
“Everything’s dead quiet. I guess we’re free.”
“Let’s go to Junction Jan’s then. We should celebrate,” Red says.
“Didn’t we have dinner before we left?” Auden asks, but he’s smiling.
“This situation totally calls for Sea Monster, Auden.”
“You’re totally right.”
They leave the room and step into the hallway. Everything is quiet and the lights are dimmer. Moving around to the front of the Empty Set, Red admires the lushness, the glittering pieces, and the lonely microphone up on the stage.
“Oh wait, forgot my jacket,” Auden says, and turns around to go back to the room.
Red waits patiently near the exit. And that’s when she hears the footsteps.
More than one person, more than two, though she can’t say the exact number. She wonders if they’re just random people passing by, or fans waiting outside, or simply someone coming back because they forgot something as well.
The door opens.
The first one inside is Sybil. Red relaxes a little... and tenses all over again as three men come inside as well. They’re all wearing red and white clothes, though that coloring is not a surprise for Sybil.
What is a surprise is the symbol on their clothes. She’s never seen it before.
“Sybil, is everything alright?”
Sybil doesn’t answer, although her face twists into something that looks like guilt. Red feels her stomach drop, because something is clearly wrong here, and she doesn’t know what. The tallest of the men—Administrator Grant Kendrell, and what is he doing here?—steps up toward Red. She steps back in equal measure.
There’s a sword in his hand.
“Forgive us for taking up your time, Ms. Red. This will only take a minute,” Grant says.
He throws the sword at her.
She has only a second to panic and think I’m going to be erased, what did I do?, before someone shoves her aside. She falls to the ground with a grunt, but her eyes are glued to the man standing in front of her, sword through his chest, a choked off sound escaping his lips.
Auden.
No, no, no.
She opens her mouth, shouts Auden’s name in a shrill voice she’s never used before, and everything goes black.
When Red comes to, her surroundings seem dimmed. She’s not in the Empty Set anymore. She tries to move and pain lances through her body for a split second, sharp and blinding. She winces, but keeps walking. Where’s Auden?
“Hey! That you?”
Auden’s voice sounds weird, electronic. Like he’s talking through a terminal. She looks right and left, searching, and when she finds him her breath leaves her lungs in shock.
The sword Grant Kendrell threw at her is sticking out of Auden’s chest. But he was talking, so he must be fine. Right? Right? Red opens her mouth to call his name, but nothing comes out. She tries it again, tries to say Auden’s name, to ask if he’s okay, oh god there’s a sword in his chest, but she can’t.
They took her voice.
Those people—The Camerata—and their weird sword took her voice. (Is this karma?)
Red feels the tears wanting to form. Her eyes burn, but she ignores it. She ignores the pain still coursing her body and walks the distance to Auden, grabbing his arm. He still feels warm to the touch; her hope soars.
“Oh, look at you. You’re alive. Me... I’m not so sure.” A quiet little laugh follows this statement.
The voice comes from the sword. It glows along with the words. It takes Red a few seconds to process this, and when she does all she wants to do is scream.
They took Auden too.
“Could use your help,” Auden says, slight humor still present in his voice. “I know this looks bad.”
Now the tears do come, and Red learns that even though she cannot talk anymore, her ability to produce sound is still intact. She sobs over Auden’s body.
“Hey, say something already.”
I can’t, she wants to say, but her words are no more.
“Say something, will you?” He asks again, desperation coloring his words. Red lifts hand to her throat and shakes her head, silently willing him to understand.
“Oh no...” He sounds as heartbroken as she feels.
She doesn’t know how much time she stays there, curled up on herself, head on Auden’s shoulder. He doesn’t offer any platitudes. He’s always known her too well. When her tears dry for the moment, she gets up. The sharp pain from before is dull now, but she still feels like her strength has been seeped from her and it’s being slow getting back.
“We need to get moving. The Camerata will be after us. Come on, my lady.”
Red hesitates for a second. She knows he wants her to grab the sword—Auden’s new body now—but she reaches for her own gown first. A little bit of push and pull, and she rips off the long piece of fabric, leaving her in its remains; a short dress and the stockings beneath it.
“What are you doing? You’re gonna be cold.”
No, she won’t. She reaches for his jacket, carefully maneuvering it out of his arms. (She does not think about his rapidly cooling body. She does not.)
“Oh... yeah, okay,” Auden sounds a little choked, and it brings a fresh wave of tears that she doesn’t bother wiping off, letting it drip down her cheeks to dry in the wind.
Gown off, jacket on, high heels broken. Red reaches for the sword.
When she touches its hilt, she gets a name: Transistor.
“Hey, Red... we’re not gonna get away with this, are we?”
No, they definitely won’t. She pulls the Transistor from Auden’s chest, and then she takes a minute to look down at his body, probably for the last time. The Transistor sits in her hand, heavy from the life it’s taken today. She pulls the jacket closer, leather still warm, and closes her eyes; imagines for only a moment that it’s Auden’s arms around her.
No, they won’t get away with this, but the Camerata won’t either.
She’ll make sure of it.
(Step out beyond the edge and start the motion)