I’m alive, and I’m a winner! The sound of D_Light’s laugh was doused by the celebration. Soul, thank you for the blessings you’ve bestowed upon me!
TermaMix, impatient by nature and capable of as much violence as the most belligerent flake, thrashed his way into the center of the circle. He shouted into D_Light’s ear, “Congrats, Brother!” TermaMix, an engineer who was fanatical about his work, did not even bother to come dressed. His skinsuit was unadorned by any illusionary clothing. Wearing a skinsuit without a skin had come somewhat into vogue. It was sort of a “what you see is what you get” (also known as WYSIWYG) fashion statement. However, D_Light knew that TermaMix paid no attention to fashion trends. TermaMix was just being TermaMix, devout and ignorant of everything but the Game.
The wave of flesh swept out again. D_Light now had room to use a move he had kept in reserve for just such an occasion. He began to undulate fiercely, appearing as a snake standing up as though about to strike, simultaneously swirling and whirling about. It was not a very acrobatic move, but it required good muscle control and was at least original.
From the circle around him, some laughed while others cheered, but it was evident that everyone was entertained. No doubt that move would be up on the Cloud in a matter of moments. Another hymn fragment entered his mind: “Nothing ventured, little gained.” D_Light recited this as he attempted to enter the right trance for the task at hand. He wanted to be focused, yet free to improvise.
“Ah yeah, dive down deep into the depths of the sound. There ain’t nothin’ in this world but the dance o’ life,” the minister intoned. He had a toothy smile, and his thick hands clapped hard in rhythm to the music.
The dance of life! D_Light thought. For the chosen, the beat will never stop!
The shadow of the dead girl was receding from his psyche like smoke blowing away on a blustery sunny day.
D_Light began transitioning out of his “starky snake” dance and moved over to a more popular favorite. Gradually, the circle closed back in and he found himself back in the sea of limbs and warm breath. Most familiars stayed out of the throng, being no larger than medium-sized pets. With AI on board, even the most primitive familiar was smart enough to avoid getting crushed by an excited mob.
The music intensified, perhaps in response to the mood of the congregation. The female voice echoed with “ooooh” and “ahhhh,” intertwined with a faster and louder thundering beat. Some hands caressed D_Light, some groped, and others punched. K_Slice, eyes shining with glee, managed to weave her way back in front of him and then slapped him hard across the face. Of course, it was impolite to reciprocate. People were supposed to express their feelings to the victor in whichever way they liked. D_Light, however, preferred less painful well-wishing, and he twisted away from her to avoid additional congratulations.
Another punch-this one well delivered-slammed into D_Light’s side. Naturally, the most violent ones always managed to push their way to the front. And like a shark testing its prey with a few tentative nibbles and now finding it safe to feast, the blows began raining down on him.
The seconds ticked by as a disharmonic blur of thundering music, chaotic movement, and hurt. No caresses, kisses, or congratulatory shouts could drown out his pain receptors as he was struck repeatedly. From outside the throng, Smorgeous sat on his haunches and sent signals for pain reliever deployment into D_Light’s bloodstream, but they proved inadequate. Such a shame. As much as he tried to keep his poise, D_Light figured he looked like a nOOb as he got the wind knocked out of him and crumpled over in an involuntary heap.
Mustering his drug-induced reserves, he got up quickly and began dancing as fast as he could. A moving target was harder to hit, but he knew he couldn’t keep up that pace forever. Then, as if reading his mind, the music suddenly stopped, the dancing ceased, and there was only the sound of hundreds of the faithful panting for breath.
CHAPTER 2
The great families did not spring up overnight. Like the evolution of most social structures, it was gradual. It started in the time of the Second Jeffersonian Era of the United States. There had been a long-standing strain between those who supported homosexuals’ right to equality under marriage versus those who stood by “traditional” family units.
This long-standing strain, which was one of several battlefronts of the so-called “War of Moral Values,” came to a head in the Second Jeffersonian Era. The legal status of marriage was dispensed with completely in favor of civil unions. It was argued that marriage was a religious institution and therefore violated the principle of separation of church and state. Therefore, marriage would no longer be recognized by the government at all.
After this, marriage remained a private religious ritual, but now it conferred no legal status. All property rights-including rights to offspring-were determined by civil unions. All civil unions were legally the same, regardless of the genders of those in the union. However, it was initially limited to two consenting adults. This limitation seemed arbitrary, and so a few court cases later, civil unions were extended to two or more consenting adults. Furthermore, these adults were no longer required to be physically intimate with one another.
The lifting of these restrictions gave birth to the Great Families, which at first grew slowly until they became viable alternatives to corporations. With families, risks and rewards were shared more equitably, and members found a positive psychological component as well.
There used to be a saying that went, “You can choose your friends, but you can’t choose your family.” Well, needless to say, that is now history.
— Excerpt from Dr. Steely_Flame’s lecture series, “The Second Jeffersonian Era”
D_Light was aching all over, but he stood up straight anyway. And although his lip was swelling up and bleeding, he managed a rather convincing smile. However, nagging at him more than anything was the intense pain in his groin where someone-probably well intentioned-had squeezed a bit too hard. Tattered, the hero of the day stood in all his glory, covered in sweat and a little blood. Members of the congregation regarded him with the full spectrum of emotions evident in their stares.
“Now for the real fun!” bellowed the minister, his voice exploding through the relative quiet of the great room. “Let’s see the story! Deeeelight, can we hear it straight from the source?”
Back at his podium, A_Dude was smiling with his unnervingly large mouth. He was perhaps the ugliest man in D_Light’s family. The minister must not have had any genetic engineering in his background, or if he did, it had obviously not gone as planned. Really, there was no excuse for such homeliness in this day and age, but everyone loved him anyway. Perhaps his unique appearance, although grotesque by conventional standards, was at least distinguishing.
Master, there is a request from A_Dude to broadcast your archives captured yesterday between the hours of 20:04 and 20:34.
Although he wished he could ignore Smorgeous’s message, D_Light knew that was not an option. He hated the testimony, dreaded it even more than the violence of the opening hymn. But tradition was tradition, and when a player accomplished an exceptional deed in the Game, it was customary to bear testimony of that deed. To do this, one did not tell the tale in the player’s own words; instead, the events were shared by broadcasting one’s personal archive so that everything could be viewed exactly as it had occurred. This was a far more accurate way to recount the story, not to mention a lot more entertaining for the congregation. Since players’ familiars recorded every sight, sound, smell, and surface thought of their masters for possible later retrieval, sharing experiences was quite easy.
D_Light’s smile faded as he telepathically replied to Smorgeous, Fine, I grant permission for a public feed between those hours.
A moment later, the minds of D_Light and all the others in the cathedral were submerged in the sights, scents, and auditory experiences of D_Light at 20:04 on the previous day. As D_Light saw the first scene of his archive, he was immediately thankful that it was no longe
r in vogue to include one’s personal thoughts in testimony feeds. A certain amount of privacy was a good thing. However, the thoughts archive was still available to D_Light, should he desire to relive the whole event in its entirety. He was not sure he was ready to remember it all just yet, still recovering from this morning’s wretched display of weakness. What if watching the archive feed inspired another performance by his rebellious stomach? Still, he had to admit to a twinge of morbid curiosity, or perhaps it was an insatiable need to revisit an old wound, like picking at a scab against one’s better judgment.
D_Light closed his eyes, revealing the usual wall of blackness. Moments later, as his familiar began streaming the archive, the darkness quickly swept aside to reveal his own vision from the night before. Everything appeared exactly as it had-the ever-present specter of the outline of his nose, a few rogue hairs from his bangs that had managed to find their way into his peripheral vision, and the girl from last night, appearing exactly as she did at 20:03.
It was hard for D_Light to peer through his own eyes without having control of where they looked. It was like traveling back in time, but with no free will. The die had already been cast, and he was now a mere spectator of his own life. All that he did-everything he said, all those decisions he made-was done hours ago. Also troubling was the fact that even though he had reviewed countless hours of his own archives in the past, he still found hearing his old thoughts played back on top of his current ones rather disconcerting. For this reason, he could never handle watching his own archives with the thoughts turned on for very long. It was maddening.
The D_Light of 16.2 hours ago set his eyes on Fael’s face, a face that now filled the vision of the entire congregation. One look and it was obvious that she was descended from the Murmos line. Although she had the telltale olive skin, jet-black hair, and angular face, it was actually the eyes that gave away her lineage. Voluminous green eyes, not cold like those of his cat-styled familiar, but warm and sensuous. Her voluptuous lips were naturally pink and plump, painted with a sheer, glossy finishing product that seemed to beg for kissing.
The whistles and catcalls started up immediately. Although immersed in the archive feed, D_Light could unfortunately still hear the congregation. “Go, D-bone!” “MaximumAss™!” “Light that up, D!” It was juvenile, but just the sort of outburst that was appreciated during a communal replay of a frag archive.
Fael’s narrow nose lifted slightly at the tip, not enough to see the nostrils, but enough to give a youthful perkiness. This type of nose was in style long ago, and apparently one of Fael’s ancestors had gotten one. Although it was well sculpted, it was not at all unique, and so while Fael would certainly be considered beautiful to people of previous generations, she did not stand out in a contemporary crowd. D_Light recalled how, on a previous date, Fael had lamented her common nose, saying how she wished she could have it redesigned. Of course, it was a minor transgression for players to make such modifications. Such an act would fall into both the categories of “wasteful vanity” and “false advertising.” Besides, males and females of the Murmos line profited from their classic, albeit predictable, beauty. Nine out of ten Murmos males and females played royal grinder games, and royalty demanded a certain traditional aesthetic look from those who served them.
While her nose might have been unremarkable, Fael more than made up for it with her keen ability to work the fashion angle. Her shiny black hair, for example, was styled playfully. Long black pigtails sprung up at forty-five degree angles and then drooped down behind her shoulders. Her clothing was always trendy and unconventional, and she tended to accessorize with small living creatures or the latest genetically engineered plant life. Given her affinity for bizarre fashion, one would think she’d have a field day with footwear, but Fael preferred her feet bare. She insisted that there were too many fantastic toe rings, ankle bracelets, and retro toe tattoo designs out there to cover them up with shoes.
For this date, Fael and D_Light had planned to attend a comedy downtown, making a playful look an appropriate choice. D_Light’s appearance was not playful. In fact, he felt a bit stuffy in the presence of Fael, old and unimaginative. His hair-dark, coarse, wavy, and mid-length-did not permit much in the way of styling, and it tended to succumb to entropy despite attempts to tame it. For a man, making a fashion statement was pretty much limited to clothes and hair, and since the hair was out, perhaps he should have done something more creative with his illusionary clothing. Next to Fael, his loose red silk shirt and dark slacks made him look more like her father than her date. Of course, he could render a new outfit at any time, but that might be perceived as a sign of being self-conscious. Not attractive. On the other hand, perhaps he could make light of the situation by asking her to help him come up with something more fun. Yes, that’s what he would do, should the conversation dry up and need a punch.
“Beloved brother,” the woman said while bowing ceremoniously. Although it was their third date in as many months, they still greeted formally.
“Lovely sister.” D_Light bowed also, allowing his gaze to rove over the rest of her curvaceous body. The delicious creature was wearing a perfectly formfitting emerald green suit that left little to the imagination. His breath stopped, a common reaction of men who suddenly find themselves in the presence of a Murmos woman.
Back in the cathedral, the whistling and scattered laughter continued. Had D_Light known he was going to have to publish this archive to everyone he knew, he might not have ogled the girl so thoroughly upon first sight. Ironically, the D_Light of those previous hours had thought himself clever and discreet by looking over the woman during his slow, formal bow, but Fael had noticed immediately.
“Oh, you see!” She beamed as she took note of his inspection. “It’s an organic. It’s designed by PrimeFlavor™. Breathes as though you have on nothing at all.” She let loose a curt laugh, extended her arms outward, and then twirled to show off her suit.
D_Light’s hand shot out compulsively and stroked the top of her jewel-green sleeve. The skintight plant had an undulating ribbed texture, a pleasure to his fingertips. He could feel the warmth of her body radiating through the living fabric, and it enticed him. He commented, “I really ought to get one of these someday. Expensive?”
D_Light nervously continued to watch the archive feed, noticing that his left eye had been twitching while chatting with Fael about her suit. That mutinous left eye! It always acted up when he was anxious or excited, thwarting his attempts to portray a cool and casual appearance. D_Light bit his lower lip and hoped the congregation did not notice his wild eyelid snapping about.
“Oh, it’s a PrimeFlavor™, so it set me back a few days in the Game,” the girl answered. “But you have to live a little, right? Wait a minute, you’ve never worn a PrimeFlavor™? Ever?”
D_Light shook his head, noting that his date was making excessive references to the brand name of the suit. No formalities there, he thought. She’s feeling comfortable enough to name-drop. She must like me.
Name-dropping, more commonly referred to as just “dropping,” was the common practice of casually promoting products in conversation. Merely mentioning a brand name usually earned a player a point or two, but if the conversation resulted in an actual sale, you stood to make much more.
“Oh, shut up!” she shouted. “You have to wear one! Feeling it from the outside is nothing, nothing at all. Right now I’m tingling all over. Oh Soul, it’s like being in the shower all day long!” She rolled her shoulders from front to back and did a seductive little purr.
“When will it die?” D_Light asked without thinking. Snap, is it impolite to ask about the death of one’s garment so early in a relationship? D_Light wondered.
Polite or not, Fael didn’t seem to mind. “I bought a three-week lifespan. I’m sure I’ll get tired of the color before then anyway, although I heard if you switch up your diet the fabric changes hue. Anyway, it’s not like I can wear it every day; it wouldn’t be proper. What would th
e other girls think? I would if I could though,” she said with a naughty laugh. “You know, even though Lyra started the trend and-” The girl abruptly ended her mile-a-minute chatter, smirked, and looked guiltily at D_Light. “I’m sorry, enough babble. Bottom line is I love my PrimeFlavor™, and I’ll have to buy you one if you’re too cheap to buy it yourself.”
They continued walking down the wide castle hall. D_Light was only jacked into a lightweight skin, just so he could see in the dark. He didn’t want to distract himself with ads, bulletin announcements, and the like while on his date. Without the SkinWare rendering anything over it, the walls were bare-merely large blocks of granite cemented together with ivory grout. Two men strolled ahead silently, their bird familiars deftly riding their masters’ shoulders while staring into one another’s eyes. Smorgeous took the liberty of grokking the men, looking up their identiy by searching for their faces on the Cloud. The men were brothers of the family, but no one D_Light knew personally. Only marketers of relatively low level.
“So, what’s new with you?” Fael asked.
D_Light actually preferred to be the listener in a one-way conversation, but he shrugged his shoulders and replied, “Grinder games, unfortunately.” His voice was apologetic.
“Yeah, I’ve been pepped for three days straight,” he continued. “The game finally timed out like two hours ago.” He lowered his head and tapped his foot a few times on the floor beneath him.
Fael smiled sweetly. “Three days? Phew! So, what? Are you still pepped?” she inquired.
D_Light let out an exhausted sigh that he feared was a little too dramatic. “Yeah, haven’t slept yet. I’m starting to feel it though. I took some Kick_n_Go™. Good stuff, no real side effects, but my neck’s a little stiff.” He placed his hand on the back of his neck and briefly worked at the tense muscles.
Now I’m whining like a little bitch! D_Light thought. The indignity of that last sentence was not worth the three points he just scored for using the brand name Kick_n_Go™.
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