PART 11 - BREAKING THE SURFACE

“Fuck, Vu, where in the hell did you get such a good contract?”

High-Vis suit? Check.

Ocular safeties? Check.

White Stetson Skyline III? An authentic Stetson? Check

Vu stepped off the van. Even under cheap Realtm-skin, He could feel the orange dawn greeting him warmly, the soft wind caressing his cheeks- reminding him of years long past before the decades and rust took its toll.

His brother-in-law, Trung, held out a blowtorch as a light to which Vu lit the first cig stick, before puffing out a thick haze of nicotine and strawberries- a strange worker’s tradition for luck. He did it as a habit and superstition really… as he never liked the smell of tobacco on clothing.

“Luck. The job was posted up and I grabbed it as fast as possible. Sat at the net cafe for hours. You know the Union hasn’t been getting as many jobs as of late.” He nodded inwardly. Jasper, Song, Xia… his core boys and more greenhorns, he managed to scrape a big crew together.

If things went well, this gig was going to make them more than set.

“You can say that again brother.” The spindly man spat out his own cigarette, foot stomping out the cheap nico. “Don’t like that the Claws are snooping around here though. Fukin’ gangs aye. I don’t like the way they’re scopin’ our boys.” Vu could see, Trung adjusting his grip on the sledgehammer laying nearby.

“Fuckin’ gangs.” He took a quick glance around. Chromed out gangbangers hung around ominously. 14 Years in Saigon, and never did he get used to how the gangs were as much a part of this blast-damned city as its highways were. That’s saying something considering he came from Hai Phong.

It wasn’t like the boy’s were gonna back down anyhow- a good fist fight might even toughen up the newbies.

“Let’s get the job done quickly then get some beer later Trung. I’m tired of staying up till 3 reading fairy tales.” His thoughts harkened back on 10gbs of stipulated ‘research material’ provided for by the client. “Speaking of which, you did read the PDFs I forwarded, right?”

“Sure, and the kids loved it too!”

Exasperated, he could only sigh.

He took a look around at the site. Old but not abandoned. Just earlier the boys had to forcefully evict the masses of jazz huffers and crackheads- little more than parasites, squatting in the trio of abandoned warehouses. One particular borged out squatter was getting particularly aggressive before they threw him into the river. Good riddance.

The boys were already getting the equipment ready and squeaky clean as according to standards. He didn’t even question why the hell the client wanted them to dig up some hole in a warehouse.

They were professionals. They didn’t ask questions.

Beep Beep Beep.

That was the van pulling in. Good. The Mehrfachfunktion excavator suit arrived. The 10-ton power suit running on human willpower and smart hydraulics would be perfect for the Client’s needs: “Discrete and Fast.”

“Alright Trung, you know the drill, get in the Suit.”

In one swift motion the Trung got in the suit, lithe body- with the ribs removed for it, fit in the death machine snuggly. With a low whistle he pointed to the end of the road, the unmistakable sight of a car. “heads up Vu- I think that’s the Client”.

The first thing Vu thought was that the car was really long. It was like those Limousines he remembered from before the Krash.

This was one in Poison-Indigo and brand new. Asymmetrical, with the hood customised in silver.

As the car slowed to a stop, Vu approached it, hands straightening out his tie-dye tie.

Slowly the windows rolled down, the scent of… ‘mist’ caught his attention. Then it was the strange ram horns that were proudly encased with gold and tacky amethyst. Not that he’d tell his client that he thought his client looked tacky.

“Pleasure to meet you Mr Dubois, We took up the offer- and as you can see everything is ready on your go.” He reached his hands out for a shake. The lilac haired man however simply waved it off delicately in a slow lazing motion.

“Ah~ Excellent~ Bravo really!” The Corpo instead clapped in fake shock, voice slurring like a snake. It came off as vainglorious… or drugged out. Certainly, he could see the Corpo being drugged out with whatever the highrisers deemed necessary for the 24/7 corporate parties.

Ignoring the weirdness, Vu motioned for Xia, poor boy was dozing off- to pass him the bottle of plum soju he kept under ice as a gift for the client “I’d like to-”

“Ah ah! Can you smell it? The scent of lilac and lianderi flowers?” His client instead interrupted.

“I must sincerely apologise, I don’t have the same bioware you seem to have.” Vu could only reply, wary of offending his client, strange he may be.

Luckily, it looked like no offence was taken. Rather, the corpo motioned for a bottle of Ruou Nam. “Mr Vu, you are going to be a very rich man after this gig. Might I suggest: TT-Song? The ‘sens+ spectrum’ of theirs is simply incredible. Makes life… more… avant-garde~”

Vu could only nod. He worked with enough corpos to know about the many unseen spectrum of senses highrisers seem to immerse themselves in, and certainly, the payout was insane, but he’d rather use it for his family and the cargo union than himself.

“Haha, well~ before we go on any further, I would request that non-disclosure agreements be signed.” The client continued.

“An NDA?” Vu was not unfamiliar to NDAs. Been in this world long enough by keeping his head down, blind, deaf and never snitching. Hell, right now he was more concerned for the newbies than any NDAs. “Yes, that will not be an issue.”

“Alright, I would ask you and all your companions to sign these NDAs here and here.” The corpo then electronically forwarded the document over, Vu’s HUD instantly highlighting all he thought he needed to read.

Everything checked out. It was all fine.

“That would be acceptable.”

“Excellent, make sure you sign your full name right here.”

He nodded, forwarding it for every single member in this gig. NDAs were a common standard and they were professionals afterall.

----------------------------------------

There was a fuzzy sensation pulling at the back of my mind urging me to continue deeper. Had Camille not stopped me, I might’ve not even noticed it.

Correction. You did notice it. You ignored it. Perhaps subconsciously but you did nonetheless.

The air was heavy, and the distinct sweet smell of oil and steel was more than noticeable- assaulting even.

Regardless, Camille trudged onwards ahead, staying ever silent and reliable. The pounding of her boots echoing the passageway like beats to an invisible marching band.

My mind thought back to the situation we found ourselves in. A missing Highlight and a very strange tunnel.

At first, the entry was narrow which widened out more and more, then, the generous usage of steel supports and industrial lino-plaster made way into… a pinkish stone? Next, came the strange vines and roots that glowed beautifully in the dark, which I of course took a few snaps of.

It was a very strange tunnel, and we were approaching the end.

How did I know? Well, it was glowing.

Only you saw it of course. The sunrise below the dark only yours to witness. As is your right.

“Huy. We’ve been walking for quite a while.” Camille stated.

“I know, but we’ve gone too far to turn back and it’s not like Highlight could’ve gone far.” I replied, stuffing myself behind a napkin I brought. Trying- and failing, to smother the rough industrial smell terribly intermixed with floral notes and bergamot that assaulted my senses. The clash was absolutely abhorrent.

“... Huy. Could you explain to me what it was?” Camille started to fiddle with the straps holding her pseudo-power armour together. She was nervous perhaps.

“What?” I cocked my head to the side, not fully understanding what she meant. Explained. I was acting ignorant.

“The… thing, I had thought it was a bio-weapon but… It’s not though is it? No one in the world has that kind of tech”

Not the Europeans in the ruins of Lisbon and Paris. Not even the Americans in their ivory house across the sea, the sleeping power stuck shackled by factional politics in perpetuity. The answer is No.

“No… I don’t think it is.” Hesitating, I could only mutter.

This mind has already been made up. A conclusion wrapped in guilt at the elation of the unknown and a vivid imagination. Horror, guilt and wonder in a hot batch of emotion. Bidding: go deeper.

“Then, how were you able to see it?” She asked. Tone even, but curious in inflection.

I didn’t know what to say. That I just did? That some entities gave me the ability to see it?

There was silence as we continued making our way down the tunnel.

Stopping. “I-I…” hesitated. Yet, if there was one person to trust right now, it would be Camille. She deserved the knowledge and she was my samurai. Hiding what I know would merely interfere with her duties. I knew the logic behind it, but the coward inside me dreaded the words.

She stopped too, turning around. Whereas others blend into reality in watercolours, she imposed her will onto it. Pneuma painting in acrylic and gouache. I looked her in the eye. Concentric circles boring into plain amber.

You did not know why. Yet there was a certainty… That: if the end of this tunnel laid a dragon and the skies blazed inferno- the streets running red with blood once more- This woman would force herself between us and certain cessation.

You were there when she sealed her oath in gunfire and blood.

I took a deep breath. Calming myself. I owed her an explanation.

“District 4, late at night. It was stupid and I know but- it wasn’t normal. I didn’t know what they were or are b-but it changed me.” I grounded the words out. Keeping my thoughts blank and unemotional as I could.

I closed my eyes, finding the distant glowing, a radiation of emotions easier to ignore by the day. It was incredible what the human mind could adapt to.

“Ha.” I spat, sound bitter. “These aren’t my original oculars, and not by choice.” I could feel her slight discomfort, perhaps a recollection?

Regardless, I continued straight and to the point. “Since then… I have been seeing things Camille, golden threads that float in the air, through the smog and haze- shit maybe even beyond Kessler’s barrier, how vivid the sky is." Before I knew it, I found my hands gesturing animatedly. Freed from keeping it in pockets. The background oppressive feeling of happiness and adventure persuaded me before I even knew it.

I took a hold of myself. Reining in the wild glee. Picturing myself in another tea ceremony.“Case in point, I could feel how being here gave you barely a glance. You’re not scared at all are you?” While the empathetic radiation was easier to ignore, her coolness was easy to spot amid the back temp of the sheer glee of the background like a sore thumb.

“I see.” Was her only reply. Again, tone even.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Another breath, calming myself, I shrugged. “Call me loco, put me in a crazy box or something but that is how it is, and I know what I saw.” I said that, though inwardly I was praying that she didn’t think her employer was insane… I mean… there’s already a reputation to exotic living legacies and stuff but it didn’t mean I wanted to be thought of as crazy either.

“Can it be killed?” She instead interrupted.

“What?” I wondered out loud. Sputtering at the unexpected question. Then, looking at her body language… yeah no she was completely serious. I mean I already knew that this didn’t phase her as much as it should’ve. “I don’t know? I have the same knowledge as you regarding their ‘mortality’.”

“Hmmm… I will need to make a threat assessment then. Shall we proceed?”

Curiosity abounds, for what life did one lead to spit in the eye of horror itself?

I could only nod, leaving her to cleave us the way through the denser plant life.

The air felt heavy again, a pulsing warmth like sitting beside a hearth. The glow enveloping us now but still so distant.

With airy footfalls and lighter hearts we made our way deeper in comforting silence. Certainly, my heart felt elation and joy.

We kept walking… and walking…

Wait. Why are you laughing?

Slowly, but noticeably, as if the air itself became lead, an overwhelming sense of heaviness pushed me deep into the dirt. The world itself seemed intent on twisting itself in every which way out of randomness.

Along with the walls, my stomach curled into knots. My breath felt laboured as I found the air increasingly thin.

Despite that, I kept walking. The tips of my fingers, holding onto the back of Camille’s plates hoping to keep myself from falling.

“–KE -P”

This is wrong and you know it. We are compromised.

Still walking. I could’ve sworn we were close to the exit. Yet, eyeing the glow beacon again, we were still quite away. I followed Camille's footsteps. Rhythmic footfalls accented with tolling bells of laughter.

“W-K- UP”

Why was it wrong?

In the haze of the golden fog. Strong hands gripped me. Shaking me. Rough.

“WAKE UP”

I heard below the ocean.

I was walking toward something big. Something grand and I felt it. As if someone turned the Contrast up and Bloom even higher. The world became so bright and glorious. Peanut sized holes in the tunnel ceiling letting pale sunlight fall, illuminating the way. Brighter than any LED light.

A homecoming for me! The joyous laughter of vines chittering along and agreeing. Pareidolic mushrooms on the walls smiling and cheering me on. The world seemingly cascading into a kaleidoscope of vivid colours and scents.

I am happy. Is happiness wrong?

Compromised. We. Are. Compromised.

The hands gripped me once again, bringing clarity to the pounding of my chest. Bio-detector screaming in my ear. [Please Find-] Before the pulsating wave of warmth and happiness drowned it out again. Pareidolia making a concert of flora in shades of red and yellow gathering for my suffering. Spotted eyes of leaves and mushrooms cheering me to die. To become a foundation for the garden.

“Remember. Think and… Exist.”

Think about it. REALLY Think about it. What can you smell? What can you hear? Nothing. Blissful, blind and happy it may be, a box is still a box! You are not the Ortolan. For fuck’s sake! wake the fuck up before the Armagnac!

Then, amidst the sweet happiness.

A searing pain.

Burning.

Then, the world was awash in a supernova of pinks, shale and greens.

“Ack!” I sputtered out like a drowning man, laying on my side. Coughing out the vines and dried leaf that lined my mouth. The gag unravelled like a sponge.

“Pwueh!” I spat out the remainder of the coriander-like herbs that got stuck in my teeth. Propping myself up with a nearby… tree? The pale bark, soft to the touch.

It was bright. Unbearably so. Komorebi light cradling my hands and feet gently.

Wait. Sunlight? Underground?

Slowly, my eyes adjusted. The bloom and contrast lessened… somewhat… and it was Beautiful.

I was in a rainforest of pale whites, salmon and smudges of exotic colorings. The colours blended like a Monet piece as far as the eye can see. Of the trees, I could only recognize the oaks and hazels- the rest, whether growing horizontally like logs or between the cracks of moss covered boulders seemed ethereal and otherworldly. The entire forest seemed to breathe. Swaying in gentle gusts of winds where leaves of pink and lesser greens fell silently like snow in spring.

In awe at it all, I remembered a quote half-buried: ‘You will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again’ indeed.

I shook my head. Now was no time for awe.

Where am I? Where is Camille? Those were my first questions. The next were: “Where the hell were my shoes?” I asked aloud as I propped myself to stand, using a particularly low but thick branch of an Oak as a lever. Aforementioned carpet of moss underbarefoot feeling like cotton and wool- and rather pleasant. No small amount of SMEs wouldn’t hesitate to harvest it. My shoes weren’t the only article missing. My raincoat and several bands of rings were gone. Klepped likely.

Slapping myself, I focused on the main objectives at hand first, beauty second. Again. I needed to find Camille, then Highlight.

Yet, before I could even spare a thought to concoct a plan, the very rainforest seemed to heed my wish and by the next gust of wind, with a delicate rustle, the tall canopy opened up and the warm light of golden hour shined on a path going upwards atop a hillside, accented by a sweet scent of honey blowing downwind.

I had absolutely no clue about forests. Even then, this didn’t seem normal.

I took a deep breath, almost resigning myself and marched onwards barefoot.

With purpose and faith, I climbed the boulders and fallen logs of stranger trees. Knees scraped on soft flora. My feet mapped lush ferns and mosses, and by the deceptively tall peak, I resorted to using my hands to pull myself up.

And what beheld me… was a field.

Delicate flowers barely ankle height filled the clearing in a sea of turquoise and purple.

Bluebells? I remembered from a book about plants used in modern textiles.

Their petals rose and rolled off the hill like steam, contrasting pale sky with impasto-like blotches of blue.

But what shocked me more were the bodies. On their knees, kneeling with heads bowed down.

Without heads.

They prostrated towards an empty cairn. High vis vests like buoys in a sea of flowers.

The back of my mind felt itchy. My emotions calmed. I was once again more focused on the painting that was the flowers beneath the pale sky than the horror of headless cadavers.

The presence then spoke. Not with sound no.

‘I greet you. I am the Weaver beneath the tree.’

The delicate voice sang, the bell-like sound reverberating in the back of my mind, the accent reminding me of an icelandic singer.

‘Little one? Can you not see me?’

“No I cannot.” I spoke aloud. The very winds themselves carried my words echoing across the clearing.

‘Little One, who are you speaking to, what do your eyes see?’

I.

See.

You.

The breeze stilled. Petals falling harmlessly like snow. Clacking branches quieted.

As if remembering a key you’ve forgotten, my eyes shifted slightly and as if my brain was ignoring it all this time… they were there. Barely 6 steps away.

Who are they? I asked myself.

They have always been here, watching us. Guiding us. Listening to our request, leading us here.

I answered.

I… answered?

‘Oh little One, you are not going insane. Rather! From ignorance, you are now free.’

The breeze picked up once again. This time, gently pushing me towards them. My instincts told me to step closer than I would’ve normally. 4 steps now.

Long reed-like legs perched on the disturbed Cairn. Delicately balancing on stones and pebbles. Tendrils of leaves floated like seaweed underwater. The form, bug-like and at the same time… not. Their movements were too graceful, as if the winds were as much as their limbs to toy with.

What are you?

‘Your kin, much of you are related to me. Fifty eggs no? The blood-made treaty.’

They smiled. A serene smile. A smile that spoke of a life long lived. Long fulfilled. Ancient.

How do you know this Huy? They don’t even have a face.

Of course they do. They must have a face. 2 steps.

They don’t.

I closed my eyes. Blanked my thoughts and *really* looked. Not letting my eyes and subconscious assume for me. My hands reached out. Fingertips brushing against the soft egg-like texture of their face- and likewise, so did they.

A pair of hands lazily reached out and cupped my cheeks. Then more limbs sprouted from the back of their spindly abdomen. More arms. More hands. More finger-feelers caressing my face as if mapping it out as one would blind.

My eyes bore into theirs.

They did not have a face.

Rather, theirs were a small walnut-like ball in the place of a cranium. Little dots of discoloration seen in rotting leaves. Theirs was the face of a-

They do not have a face. Stop saying that.

Breathing out. FORCING my lungs to expel the air. Placing the priority of breathing over admiration, I took a step back. Tangled mess of finger-feelers retracting from my visage…

Weaver beneath the tree.

You are a beautiful creature.

At my thoughts, they shivered and clacked like branches in a storm.

Chiti Chiti Chiti

They were laughing.

‘Your words flatter me little one! Shame the others of your house did not… truly, your words bring me much glee.’

They continued laughing. Then- stillness.

‘Tell me how I may repay your words? the things within my powers as fee’

The voice sang again, this time with a slower melody- but not sombre nor melancholic… just… slower.

Back straight. A confident smile on my lips. “I wish to return home. If you would be so kind, fair one” I asked, my throat dryer than I remembered. Was it the leaves in my throat?

With windchimes and soft gale as woodwinds the treeline parted. Petals flew between the gaps of the rainforest.

“Thank Y-”

A finger-feeler was placed on my lips. Telling me to be quiet.

‘Do not thank a Fae, little one. Or a cost you will incur- this too… is by decree.’

The windchimes sang, this time a fast melody- a warning. I nodded. My mind raced at how close I came to making a mistake. There was something wrong in all of this. I am sure of it.

‘I will show you and your companions the way, so calm yourself. Do not flee.’

Still fearful, I could only nod. This land was too wild. Rules incomprehensible and alien.

‘Heed my words clear. The boy in green, he has danced and danced, played with toothed ones and tired himself, yet, He was wise to not utter his name. For that, you will find him in the Oaktree.’

My N-IO barely worked. Most of the applications completely bricked, but it didn’t stop me from noting down the words on a note file.

‘The Iron knight shall be found amidst the bones and tooth, a game of strength they play- but grave warning: They do not play nice, and treat their toys carelessly.’

The winds picked up. Wisps of petals holding my hands urging me to follow. I did. I tried to look back, to at least sear the image into my head, but no such luck for as soon as I tried to spy the weaver they simply stopped existing, so too did the bodies, perhaps ferried away somewhere in another place.

Didn’t matter. I ran full speed out of the clearing, down the hill, following pale illumination in the thin areas of the canopy. The very trees and branches conveniently fall out of the way like marching bands. Branches snapped, teal petals rode the wind picking up more and more.

Shades of blues, reds from the roses and golds from the daisies- they picked up along the wind.

More and more.

Even more!

Until they were a flag of colours completely pigmented by fresh petals on golden leylines- how very familiar.

I ran alongside it. Following the wind.

My excitement burnt hot, sending sparks into the air as each footsteps left sparks of firecrackers popping on gentle moss. Smiling- perhaps a bit too much as I really took a look and I-

FELT THE WORLD. It’s a painting you theorize.

The world is a painting barely finished- rather, it can never be finished because the subject can never be decided. So… Over and over the canvas is thrown out with a million million wills etching their story. Their instruments: emotions and thoughts. Who? The Corpo-cyborgs, Impressionists, Romantics… yes, even the Nihilists.

How do I weave my feelings in het grote doek then? Sounded kinda preem.

If you were falling because you didn’t look down. Which you are by the way-

Oh, indeed I was. I suppose I would break my knees if I fell such a height. It was 4 times my body height give or take.

And if you didn’t want to end up as “Boy breaks legs in fall” (Huy 2082), then how do you critique and propose the alternative? You snob.

I suppose: “I” the subject, would be fire. I did not think fire took fall damage.

I don’t know, I’m just your imagination Huy. Born from too much emotional and thought radiation. Now…. will it real. Is there fire?

No?

Is there?

Maybe?

Not good enough! For god sakes you’re halfway down!

NO!

I was wrong! There was fire! *I* was on fire! My excitement reached the full climax. My feet engulfed in flames- the winds fanning it bright and brighter. So much so, I fell like a satellite reaching terminal velocity.

Beneath me the earth grew larger and larger in view.