“And what’s this mysterious task, dare I ask?”
Trina wrinkled her nose. “I’d prefer that you didn’t.”
YD waved her hand in the air. “Fine, fine. Stay here tonight, of course you can stay. Bunk with me, though. Pina howls in her sleep.”
Trina closed her eyes and saw the flash of blue on her front door. It would feel so good to get away from it all. “And may I please have a little drink? A baby one?”
Pina growled a decidedly unfriendly growl.
YD groaned, but Trina could tell she had already given in. “You meshugana girl, I can’t say no to you.” Pina whined at YD, but she ignored it. She shuffled back behind the bar and took out a bottle of bourbon from a high shelf. She muddled cherries and oranges in the bottom of a rocks glass for an Old-Fashioned. The instant Trina saw YD put her hands on the bottle, she felt safe.
10.
Happily buzzed and pleasantly warm, Trina fiddled with her Electric Spirit console until she found Horizon’s channel. There were dozens of videos: clips of performances, little interviews. She tapped on the one with the highest number of views. It was titled “A Treatise on the Transmutation of Objects, or Welcome to Possibility!”
Horizon, gorgeous and severe in a gossamer sheath of black and gray, looked directly at the camera. “Hi, beautiful people,” he said. “Today is November second, 2037, on the Earth plane in this linear construct we call time.” He ran a hand through his hair and it shimmered, catching the light like silk. Pina grunted and shifted behind Trina, negotiating her bulk closer so she could see the screen, too.
“This video is coming to you from The Kitchen, a performance space very near and dear to my heart, in what was once called Tucson.” He took a sip from a glass of fizzy water and cleared his throat. “The main message I have for you today is that we don’t yet know what to call ourselves, as both human beings and as symbionts of The Seep. Seamlessly and elegantly, we’ve adjusted to this new way of living, and we should celebrate ourselves and The Seep for the ease of that merger. As you all know, The Seep has improved our lives in myriad ways—personal and public, political and private. I could name a dozen different ways this happened just off the top of my head, and I’m sure you could, too. Feel free to mention the ways The Seep has affected your life in the chat below.” He smiled at the camera, revealing long front teeth. It was disarming; a pretty vampire. “So! No one is denying the effects of The Seep in furthering human consciousness, health, and freedom. But I do wonder if we’ve become lazy in our own use of The Seep.” He stared deeply into the camera, eyes wet and sincere. “Think back to your first Seep experience. So profound, so meaningful. And now we’re surrounded by our alien friends day in, day out. They make us healthier, our streets more beautiful, our plants more bountiful. We know that The Seep wants nothing but to make us happy, and in return, to experience the pleasures of embodied form, the delightful relief of linear time. I’m not questioning the intentions of The Seep like some of the folks you’ll find here, broadcasting their conspiracy theories on the Electric Spirit. But again, I do think we’ve become too complacent in our interactions with it. The Seep continues to give us what it thinks we want: health, abundance, community, freedom. But! Let us not be yoked to the desires of our predecessors. Theirs was a world of scarcity, artificial competition, and fear. Our future-present is exceedingly lush, but we must not let this bounty distract us from aiming even higher. Remember, only a few dozen years ago, the idea of life without death was laughable, more at home in comic books than scientific journals. I assert that we have just begun to discover the potential collaborations between human and Seep forms. A world of unknown possibilities is waiting for us. But enough talk,” he said. “Let me show you what I mean.”
Horizon took out an old-fashioned-looking gold pocket watch and set it down in the center of a long table. Then he took out his Seep wand and coated his hands thickly with its resinous tip. Trina wanted to know how Horizon Line had gotten his grubby hands on a medical-grade Seep wand more suited to surgery than performance art. His hands glowed blue in the camera light. Horizon closed his eyes and concentrated, mouthing a stream of words under his breath. He picked up the gold watch with both hands and held it still, as if trapping a tiny animal. His words turned into a high whistle, an ethereal sound like someone playing the saw. Horizon rubbed his hands together, squeezing the gold watch between his glowing palms. The whistling turned into a resonant hum. He pressed and squeezed the watch, turning the mass in his hands. A thick gray feather flared up from between his clasped palms. He kept on humming and rotating his closed hands. Then they began to vibrate, his arms to shake and shiver. A current, like an electric shock, ran through his whole body, but he kept his hands tight around the form. A squawk sounded out. Horizon Line looked straight at the camera and opened his hands.
It was a small golden bird, flitting to and fro. The camera followed its erratic, disoriented flight. The bird didn’t seem too happy about being born, but who didn’t cry on their way into the world? The gold bird settled on a high shelf, and the camera panned in close on its black blinking eye. Then its head turned sharply to reveal a round metal gear embedded into one side of its round head. The magical mechanical bird squawked once more before the camera returned to Horizon’s flushed face. “I’m Horizon Line,” he said. “Performer, thinker, Seep Alchemist. I have turned gold into life.” He wiped his brow. “As human beings, we still have no concept of what we really are. This world is so much more than you could ever imagine. Therefore, I ask you— what will you make today?” He smiled wide into the camera. “If you liked this video, please hit ‘Subscribe’ on the Electric Spirit so you can follow my future adventures in transformation. Bye for now.” He blew a kiss, and the screen went black.
“He gives me the willies,” said Pina slowly. “Am I saying that right? He makes my skin feel creepy-crawly. I don’t like it.”
“Me too, Pina, my dear,” said Trina. “Me too.”
Pina frowned. “I’m not a deer, I’m a bear.” Then she smiled, a horrifying display of glistening teeth. “I made a joke. Get it?”
11.
Trina discovered Horizon would be playing the next night at The Go-Go, one of Trina’s favorite venues from the old days. She registered for the 11 a.m. high-speed bullet train to Detroit. Eventually, Pina put away her mop with a bang and growled at Trina to call it a night. Last call had been hours ago, and YD was probably long asleep.
Trina lightly knocked on YD’s bedroom door and crawled in next to her. It felt nice to lie next to a smelly, snoring body. She wasn’t worried about finding Horizon and the boy. It was easy enough to find someone. But that didn’t mean you could get them to do what you wanted or even understand what you were trying to say. Talking was easy. Communication was hard. She thought back to the gun, her destroyer of worlds. Maybe the time for talking was over. If she shot Horizon Line, he wouldn’t really be dead. No one ever died, she now knew, they just became something else. Still. That was the logic of a sociopath. If she shot Horizon Line, the person she’d really be killing was herself, her old self. She’d no longer be Trina, the person who would never fire a gun at someone. She thought again about how Deeba wouldn’t recognize her now, unkempt and rugged, leather jacket smelling of old beer. If she killed Horizon Line, she’d be killing Deeba’s wife. Was that an act she was ready to commit?