Futuristic e l y s i a n [saturday shorts + ebb]

[ebb]

[class="body"]
display: flex;
align-items: center;
align-content: center;
max-width: 60%;
margin: 0px calc(30% - 90px);
padding: 20px 5%;


[/class]

Arden​

[div class="body"]“Let’s go, it’s getting late. And I’m bored,” Eliana whined, her sugary blond hair bouncing off her shoulders. For all her appearances, Arden knew better than to underestimate her thinly veiled cruelty. She’d been a professional fighter for year and skinned animals for pleasure, skilled and determined. He pretended not to hear her over the music, reverberating so loud it made his fingernails hurt. Around them, sets of black sunken tables laid under a large windowless room, lined with sheer glittering curtains crested with artificial butterflies that flapped rhythmically. It was one of the most popular clubs in the area, and even Arden had trouble at the door despite his connections. Clusters of night folks chattered, laughed, or zoned out like Arden was. He had a clear mental map of the space when he first walked in, but things were getting fuzzy. Earlier that night, he’d played a game with his friend Leighton where he’d been gifted two ‘party favors’ at random - knowing what you were getting into was boring and overrated. Now all he knew was the forgiving cushion of the seat and Eliana’s searing glare.

As if he knew he was being thought about, Leighton slid into the booth next to Eliana and Arden, looping arms with a dark haired girl Arden had never seen before. In contrast, Leighton had dusty brown hair that looked dull in comparison to Eliana’s. His ears were lined with earrings and he exudes the same confidence many upper city citizens did. “Eliana is bored,” Arden over pronounced, laughing at the hollow sound of his own voice. “I’m bored too, take us somewhere.” he pleaded, propping himself onto his elbows. “Take us on a tour of the sights, let’s play tourist, I want to see Central Tower and then-...” He lost his train of thought so he took a deep sip of champagne, whatever he’d taken earlier sucking the moisture from his mouth. Using the implant that started at his ear and ran along his jaw, he prompted the sleekly designed panel that glowed with his personal info and contacts. Selecting a payment option, he covered everyone’s drinks, hardly pausing to notice the price. Leighton whispered something to his new friend before leading the way out the door.

The sidewalk was equally as packed, hoards of partiers walking and stumbling down the avenue in groups of four or more. Any less and you’d get suspicious looks. If you didn’t know how to make friends then you were quickly pushed to the outskirts of society and named a goblin - a lonely creature hunched in a dark cave. The upper city dwellers were social creatures by nature, no surprise considering the gods created them to keep the natural order in balance. The yin to the lower city’s yang. “It’s a beautiful night,” Leighton murmured, eyes barely leaving the dark haired girl. “Beautifulll,” Arden echoed, pretending to be oblivious to Eliana’s attempts to hold his arm- they’d been engaged for so long that it was old news. Plus, it wasn’t like either of them had a choice in the arrangement. A troop of military personnel paraded by, the emblems on their jackets standing out in Arden’s brain as he watched with keen intention. Metal. Glassy. Perfect.

Arden hummed one of the old hymns used as an anthem of their defensive forces. He was so focused he could barely-

Arden blinked. He was in the back of a car, having (hopefully) only momentarily blacked out. The city whizzed by with its soft spires and open streets, hazy in the nighttime air. The only thing smearing the city were the peeks of the lower city that festered beneath like a dirty wound. He used to feel bad for the people living down there, having to work tirelessly for pocket change, but over time he realized that society had to work that way. It gave them peace of mind, to know what their purpose was - just like it gave Arden peace to know his purpose was to build social ties with important people and be a cog in the machine of the city’s economy.

He adjusted the cold metal implant jutting through his nose, the mod was designed to enhance his living experience by releasing pleasant aromatherapy throughout his day. Every time streetlight reflected against his eye, hints of rainbows cascaded and sparked on either side of his vision. This was less of a mod, and more of a mistake. A year ago, he’d overdone it and ended up halfway into a coma, needing a handful of patches on his brain and a surgery that cost more than the high end vehicle they were driving in. One of the after effects was his eye’s reactions to small sparkly lights, which he was experiencing heavily now. He smiled into the wind, having never minded the affliction.

Pulling up next to the vehicle, a cart of mid city show girls flapped giant fluorescent fans, laughing and whispering to each other. Leighton was transfixed. Arden would’ve stared too, but he was preoccupied. Across the street, there was a multi story structure, and stuck to the side was the same insignia he’d noticed before - the unmistakable swooping geometry of the military mark. Climbing over the side of the open convertible, he slipped away unnoticed by his buzzed friends, heart thumping in his chest.

Watching a group of soldiers approach the entrance, he slipped in after them, possessed by a wild sense of curiosity. Life got so boring, why not do something a little daring? What was the worst that could happen to someone like him?

✖✖✖✖✖​

Arden’s mouth tasted metallic. Struggling to his knees, he gripped his head like he was trying to keep it from splitting in two. The throbbing in his head was incomparable and sharp, his mouth dry and chalky. Coughing, he rolled onto his side, groggily wondering where the rest of the night had gone, and which one of his friends had such a cold and stony bedroom floor. It took him a few moments to realize he wasn't, in fact, in someone’s bedroom. The sound of voices and street hubbub were a dead giveaway. Arden climbed up quickly.

Immediately, his body rewarded him with overwhelming nausea and he stumbled to the side of the building, emptying his stomach onto the pavement. His eyes traced the side of the building upwards, and upwards, and upwards. Still wearing a high quality duster from the night before, he tucked the thick, expensive material around him, as the air was frigid compared to the sun kissed gardens of the high city.

Where was he? He gaped, swiveling around and using the building as a crutch. He was at the entrance to an alley, dark and cramped and completely against every high city building code.

He wanted to throw up again.

Grabbing the sleeve of a passerby, he demanded answers. “Excuse me,” he ordered with as much clarity as he could muster. “Where am I? I have five appointments lined up and if I miss them there will be consequences.” He checked his watch, with was now hairlined with cracks. “Fuck..” He groaned. It was a limited edition piece, nobody used watches anymore. Even more annoyed, he continued. “I don’t know how I ended up in such a filthy disgusting slum but this really isn’t funny.”

saturday shorts
[/div]

 

[saturday shorts]

SYNCH ​

Synch couldn't fucking sleep. Cars kept rushing past his window, their boosters humming so loud that he swore that the whole block of capsules had vibrated at least once. He turned over on his back and looked up at the ceiling of his pod. The shiny plastic had minute cracks running through it, grime stuck between the expanse of white chrome, marbling out in curling strips of black. It was inevitable with the pollution of the city, that everything you owned would be layered over with a veneer of smog and dust. The lower city polish. He could practically hear it being said with a sneer, people turning their nose up to the very air that they breathed.

"Fuck it." Synch rolled sideways and off, feet just barely rushing to get to the ground before the rest of him. He hissed at the chill that immediately seeped through the floor. The nights had been cold recently, and it seeped through the metal bones of the city, took hold between the puttering heaters and trapped them in their plastic paradise. Bundling up was the priority if he was going to go out. He knew that the rowdier bars would still be open and full, people swarming around the light and music.

His fingers spasmed as he slid open the closet door, and he swore again, more viciously at the sparks that flew up straight from the wiring into his head. Synch pulled up one of panels, catching his fingernails underneath the rim and stared inside as he'd done yesterday and the day before. He wasn't any sort of a fucking mechanic but he still hoped every single time he looked into the wires and copper that there would be a glaring answer to his problems. He swallowed and the roof of his mouth felt metallic. His fingers flexed out, clenched in. Smooth, easy. But the thrum of a malfunction still buzzed under his skin, made him all too aware of the other modifications he couldn't stand to lose. He'd heard horror stories of people getting bricked out of their optic implants, going about their business when a flash of light, a shower of rainbow glitches across their eyes and boom. Blue screened from your own vision.

He pulled on a jacket roughly, and blinked open his cybers. A wave of texts flooded across his vision and he closed the notifications with a dismissive wave of his hand. His eyes focused on the mid ground of blue as he scrolled through news, possible jobs, everything that had built up in the few hours that he'd been able to toss and turn and nap. He pulled on pants mechanically, finished dressing before blinking back out of it. He'd heard that people who got it done in the lower city, people who had no time for cosmetics, got a sheen over their eyes as they used their implants. The upper city folks didn't, too obsessed with colouring their eyes in the latest fad, making sure every part of their appearance was picture perfect. Just covering up what was rotting underneath.

The door slid shut and locked behind him, the dark-glass impenetrable to the new peek-in enhancers that were going around. Synch never trusted any of the fad mods. Ever since that modifier that turned up the colour contrast in your vision had turned out to be carrying a virus. He still remembers the headlines and videos of people collapsing around the city, one second just chatting to their friends, the next crumpling to the ground as the virus ripped through their brains. A few upper world teens had downloaded it too. That's what made it so big. Not the fact that half of the lower city was in tatters, no, the fact that a few teens had been messing around and got the short end of the stick. Of course they could pay for whatever kind of surgery or repair they needed. Not down here. There were conspiracies that it was a set up too, all of it. That the government had planted the mod to try and get everyone they kept missing in their surveillance, to corrode all of the illegal implants that the dirty undercity rebels had shoved into their bodies.

Synch pulled his collar up against the cold and walked briskly, his chunky soles clanging noisily down the stairs before they hit concrete. The neon lights bathed his face in a thousand different pixels, changing every second. He looked up, up at the balconies that jutted out along the buildings, up at where he could sort of see the beginnings of the mid world, and then soaring up above, the chromium buildings of the upper city. He curled his lips and looked back down, at the grubby sidewalk, flyers pasted into the concrete from the glue of rain and shoes.

It wasn't too far to Tacha's bar, always warm, always open. Synch walked with music pulsing through his ears, his cybers playing some sort of funk tune that he couldn't remember the name of. He was about to cross the street, when suddenly out of an alleyway, someone stumbled into him. His first instinct was that it was just another dumb fucking drunk kid, had too many shots on their first night, got goaded into having a few pills. But then they started speaking and that- that was the unmistakable accent of someone from the upper city, the sort of voice that rang out in announcements, emotionless with crisp, clear consonants. He said some bullshit about appointments and as Synch looked him up and down, a nasty suspicion started to take hold in his mind. The clothes, the high end tech that he had, the fucking watch. He had the smell of alcohol and sweaty bodies on him, and Synch wrinkled his nose.

He stepped away and had to tilt his head just a bit to look up at him. "Sorry party boy, I think you took the wrong transport. This is rock bottom of the lower city. I don't know what you did to deserve this kind of prank but-" he huffed out a laugh, "you'll want to get back up soon, you dont want our lower city filth all over you huh."

 

[ebb]

[class="body"]
display: flex;
align-items: center;
align-content: center;
max-width: 60%;
margin: 0px calc(30% - 90px);
padding: 20px 5%;


[/class]

Arden​

[div class="body"]
Arden had never been to the lower city before. Why would he? There was nothing down here that couldn’t be offered in bounty at the higher levels. He’d heard stories from friends and acquaintances of being stripped of money and mods because they dared to explore the rat infested hovel. He was fortunate to still have his mods in place and relatively unharmed. He’d heard people stole and trampled with no regard to human decency and respect down here.

He tried to suppress the inkling of fear that uncurled in his stomach, being in such an unfamiliar landscape. It was dark and cramped, citizens hurrying by miserably under the weak lights. Figures loiteried in doorways and it stunk of fumes and smoke, making Arden’s skin crawl. Now knowing where he was, he eyed the passerby with a new layer of scrutiny. The difference in attire and speech was unmistakable, with untailored clothing and grown out hair. Nobody in the upper city would be caught dead with unkempt roots. His arm looked ancient and ready to fall apart at any moment. Was it vintage on purpose? Maybe that was a fad for the lower city. He wasn’t offensive on the eyes persay, but he looked a little rough around the edges- unpolished and feral.

Not everyone down here was shady though, right? Even the least educated should know better than to cross someone with Arden’s social status. Regaining his confidence, he brushed the dust from his knees and did his best to maintain dignity under the vertigo of a blossoming hangover.

Arden bristled at the suggestion that he’d done something to deserve being here. “I highly doubt me being here is any reflection of anything I’ve done,” he objected. “My friends have an inclination to think they’re funny, and while I think this is taking it a little too far, I’ll give them credit for creativity. They must’ve knocked me out with something,” he lied, knowing all too well that he’d done it to himself. “Seeing as I’ve never been here before, why don’t you show me to the closest transport. I wouldn’t want to get lost,” he smiled, straightening his stance until he was hit with another wave of nausea.

Tapping the implant running along his jaw, he prompted the suite responsible for his social contacts and chats. Seperate from his cybers that were predominantly for aesthetic purposes, it was the best way to organize parties and send quick responses to his social circles. Promoting Eliana’s icon, he flicked his finger to prompt the call button.

>We’re sorry.

>You don’t have access to this number.

His screen illuminated red as his call was promptly cut short. Cold sweat sprung from his palms and his lethargic brain scrambled for answers.

What?

“Weird, I must be out of range,” he observed aloud, “can’t believe I spent extra on this shit to have it not reach down here. Whatever,” he shut it down, watching his new friend expectantly. “Are we going to stand around all day, or are you taking me to the transport?”

saturday shorts
[/div]