Illion

I’ll be fine. I’ll be just peachy. Everything will go smoothly, just like it always does.

Sure it will.

“I’ve taken them to their rooms.” Lolli-N materializes beside me, giving me an expectant look. “And it’s almost 8pm now. Time for introductions?”

“I’m not ready.” I glare at my reflection in the mirror, “do I look washed out in red?”

“No.”

“But it just doesn’t look right!” The buttons on the front have lost that special glimmer. They look more like polished bronze than gold. Who knew a century of storage could damage more than just sanity?

“You look spicy.” Lolli-N says, “and your soon-to-be-wife is anxious to see you.”

“Really?”

“No. But once she sees you her opinion will change.”

“Her opinion?” I can feel my head growing lightheaded already, “what’s that even mean?”

“You’re not her type.” Lolli-N shrugs, “like she’s not yours. It’s a perfect match.”

“Oh. Well that certainly eased the mood.” I tug at my tie a few more times; give up because the damned thing won’t centre properly. I rip it off. “I’m sure she’ll fall for me once she sees me in person though. I am the peak of evolution.”

“Such a charmer.” Lolli-N taps her foot, “come on, Romeo. Let’s get introduced before you have to share a room tonight.”

“Excuse me?”

She bats her eyelashes innocently, “you are excused, sir.”

“What do mean you, ‘share a room tonight’?!”

“Altered schedule, sir.” She gives me her biggest, most innocent eyes. "The crew was concerned about how much sleep you’ve been getting. We’ve organized for some of them to cover your early morning shift.”

“But I work best in the morning!”

“Not anymore. Now you sleep in the morning, so you can work ten times better the rest of the day.”

“But what if the engine has a meltdown at 2am? Hm? Then what? Who’s going to save you then?”

She lets out a very long, very deep sigh, “if that happens, you will be alerted at once. The intercom system runs through your room, you know.”

I purse my lips, staring her down; but staring down an android is impossible. I fail. “Fine.”

“And Aurelia is quite sweet.” She adds for good measure, “I’m sure she won’t mind your special blanke-”

“Don’t make me turn you off.”

“Sorry, sir.” She mutters, downcast, feigning guilt.

“Let’s go then. Magic eight hour starts in….” A quick glance at my watch proves I forgot to change the batteries again. Whatever. It’s almost eight, that’s good enough.

“It starts in three minutes.” Lolli-N chirps, “to be exact.”

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“Right.” I ruffle my hair one last time, blow my reflection a kiss (for good luck) and march towards the cafeteria.

Aurelia

“What the hell is this whole ‘magic eight’ hour thing?” Enea grumbles, flicking through a brochure we found free floating in the halls.

I take a long sip from my milkshake, watching the other passengers sitting at the plastic tables around us, “probably another Marillion game or something.”

“It says there’s ‘turbo skating’.”

“Nice.”

“And ‘anti-gravity fun for the whole family’?”

“Blessed be.” I snatch the brochure from her and take a look for myself, “wow. They’re even loonier than I thought.”

“You mean they really have anti-gravity skating?”

“Looks like it.” My eyebrows raise, “I didn’t even know this was a thing.”

Just as the words leave my lips, the lights in the cafeteria dim, and a single spotlight illuminates the furthest pastel landscape wall.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to The Marillion!” A crackling voice echoes around us, and that cheery music from retro adverts spirals through the air.

A kid’s choir chimes in, “it’s magic eight hour everybody!”

And then the lights come on. Flashing, pulsing, neon lights. Polka dots dancing across every surface and every face.

The café stalls in the walls close up, the metal walls bending inwards to create a curve. And the roof spins upwards, revealing a twenty-foot ceiling, and curved walls just as high.

We’re in a party dome.

“Gods have mercy.” I whisper.

“Welcome, welcome, welcome!” The speakers crackle to life again, and that familiar voice drifts through the air; silvery and laced with too much sugar.

Everyone shifts around uncomfortably, probably expecting the mad captain to fall out of a vent or come barrelling into the room on a mechanical unicorn or something.

“Well, aren’t you just a lively bunch.” Say the speakers, “might as well get the party started then; can’t have you old pickles sitting around all day. That causes cancer! And we don’t want to blast anyone out the air lock so early…”

At the top of the dome, a trap door is opening, and then we see him.

Him.

With knee high anti-gravity boots, a red suit, a mop of frazzled blond hair – and those stupid oversized red glasses.

Illion the Marillion the 7th.

Good gods.

“You all look much realer from here!” He’s holding a microphone in his hand, as he floats to the centre of the room. “But I think I like you better from my monitors – less static.”

He sets foot on top of a table, in front of a family with several small children – all staring up at him in bewilderment.

“Sweet sunshine, you all look overjoyed.” He grins at them, pulls out a handful of candies from his pockets, and sprinkles it over their heads.

One of the kids jams most of the candy in his mouth and leaves the others with nothing; and then they’re all bawling.

“Aww, look, he’s good with kids.” Enea elbows me, “look at them! They’re crying out of joy!”

They are not crying out of joy.

Illion doesn’t seem to notice – or care. He’s jumped off the table now and is skipping around between families, dropping candies like Hansel and Gretel; half talking to himself about something (the microphone cuts out too much to understand) until he comes abruptly to a stop.

“So, as you all probably know.” Pause; for dramatic effect, “I'm getting married today.”

There’s a round of applause, (mostly out of politeness).

“Guess what?” Illion continues, “I know she’s in here. If anyone knows an Aurelia Anique, point her out!”

Enea’s up in a flash, waving her arms around like she’s drunk, “right here! Right here sir! Come get her! Quick, quick!”

“What the fuck, Enea?!” I hide my face in my hands as the entire crowd turns to ogle at me.

“The sexy gal is right here!” Enea is winking at me, “she’s rightttt here!!”

Illion is half the cafeteria away, but he crosses the distance in a flash.

“What a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Marillion.” Then he’s in front of me, so enthusiastic I actually want to die.

“And I’m the sister!” Enea cuts in before I have a chance to speak, “the hotter one!”

“She looks hotter to me.” Illion gestures to me without hesitation, and Enea’s face falls. “But then again, she is my wife, so I may be biased.”

He cracks a smile and extends his hand to her. Enea shakes it awkwardly, wincing (her ego has been severely hurt).

And then he turns to me, offering his hand.

“Care for a dance?” I can’t see behind his rose glasses, but the way his cheeks dimple when he smiles…

Pretty cheeks aside, that’s all he’s got going for him right now; I really don’t want to go anti-gravity dancing.

“Not really.”

“Such a shame.” Illion sighs heavily, “I suppose I’ll just to have to ask your sister then, she looks like a good dancer.”

“I am!” Enea tosses her hair to distract and kicks my leg under the table. “But Auri is better. She’s just never been anti-gravity dancing before.”

“Oh, that’s a terrible boggle!” Illion exclaims, aggressively shaking his hand at me like I’m supposed to take it, “we must fix that at once!”

Fuck. Everyone is staring at us.

Hesitantly, I place my hand in his.

Time to go anti-gravity dancing.