The Art of Madness

by A. J. Mayall

“Francesca, it’s Phoenix. Phoenix McGee. Hi. I’m sorry to bother you, however…”

  “I’ve never known you people to be apologetic about anything, Mr. McGee, just full of excuses. What do you want?”

  “It’s about Suzette. Is she meeting you for dinner tonight?”

  “Yes, we’re having a girls’ night. You’re welcome to join us, princess.”

  Phoenix scrunched up his face. He knew one of his predecessors had a history with the elder DiMarco, and there was a bit of bad blood between them. Since he had been working with her granddaughter, Phoenix had failed to inspire confidence, even if his cases were successful.

  “Suzette was mugged. I just found out. I think she’s on her way. Could you please call me, or have her call me when she gets there. I…I want to make sure she’s okay, is all.”

  Francesca paused. He heard the hissing intake of air. After a few seconds, she simply asked, “Was she hurt trying to help you? Doing some of your investigative work?”

  “No, ma’am. She was leaving for the day. I wasn’t expecting to see her until tomorrow. I’m trying to be a good friend, Francesca.”

  “Well, Mr. McGee, you’re rather terrible at it. You go gallivanting about, living it up while my granddaughter stays behind a desk. She does more than a secretary should. You pay her an acceptable salary, but nothing that approaches what she’s worth. You’re a concerned friend, but you aren’t a good one. At least it’s a step in the right direction. I’ll be sure to remind her to send you a message when she arrives.”

  Francesca paused. “She’ll just be in a foul mood getting here and her sisters are joining us for dinner. I can at least thank you for the advanced warning. Good evening to you, Mr. McGee.”

  “Good night, Franc…”

  He heard the beep of an ended call. The detective headed back to the office, to prepare for the visit to Enedium.

  Suzette arrived late for dinner, her hair a tangled mess. She stormed through the halls of the Chester Building, hoping to avoid drama. She burst into the dining room, where she found her grandmother with a worried look on her face.

  Damn it, Phoenix, she thought when the normally stoic woman rushed toward her. She hugged her grandmother tightly.

  “He found out and called you, I assume. Relax, I’m fine,” she said coolly as she patted Francesca on the back. “I can take care of myself.”

  Francesca chided, “Can you drop the attitude for one damn moment? I’ve been worried and, for once, I want to hold my granddaughter without her putting up a wall.” She squeezed Suzette as hard as she could. Suzette noted the woman was far stronger than her appearance suggested. Francesca pulled back and looked Suzette in the eyes, who closed her own.

  “Yes, Grandma. There were two thugs who didn’t know how to handle themselves. Also, those brass knuckles you gave me came in handy.” Still smeared with blood, she pulled them out of her purse and showed her grandmother.

  “I told you The Boys would come in handy. They saved my bacon more than a dozen times back in the day.” She gave a friendly giggle, bopping her granddaughter on the nose with a fingertip. “You choose the meal; you’ve had the roughest day of all of us.”

  Suzette smiled, then pulled back. “What do you mean, ‘all of us’?” She narrowed her eyes. “Angelique and Claudia, of course.” She reached for The Boys.

  “If there was ever a reason for a girls’ night, it’s tonight. No arguments.”

  “As you wish, Grandma,” she said, reluctantly acquiescing. “However, if they start up…”

  “Deal with it. Come on, they’ll be coming in soon.”

  Suzette attempted to put her hair back into the tight bun, until her grandmother tapped her hands, instructing her to let it down for a change. They were soon joined by the sisters.

  A common trait of the DiMarcos was their dark hair, and Claudia was no exception. Angelique would have mirrored them, save for the sides of her head shaved bald, and streaks of bleached blonde, tipped with various colors.

  Claudia wore her locks in a bob that framed her slightly rounder face. She was shorter by a good few inches than her middle sister, her build broader and stockier. The smile she wore lit up her face, an expressive, warm gaze. Claudia was the fire to Suzette’s ice, the heart to Suzette’s mind. She wore a black off-the-shoulder dress and crossed the room with a much-practiced grace and poise.

  Suzette was embraced with a restrained concern, love at arm’s length. It was something about Claudia that Suzette found deplorable. She respected her older sister on many levels, which made their relationship that much more difficult due to the disparities between them. While Suzette prided herself on her independence, her elder sister relished the high-society life their upbringing had afforded them.

  “Grandmother told us, are you all right?” Claudia asked, honest concern in her eyes, while she wore the same old money smile she had adopted from their parents.

  “I’m fine, I fended them off. Seriously, you don’t need to worry about me.”

  “I wish you’d leave that job; you’re better than a desk position. Someone with your looks needs to be seen. Your modeling career was taking off and then you met that Phoenix fellow. Seriously, Suzette, you could have been hurt.”

  “Claudia, please. You know I only did that for the easy money. The whole model thing is more your speed than mine.”

  Claudia pulled out a seat for herself and Angelique. “I don’t have the figure for it, and I’m not the right age. Still, with your looks and intelligence, you could get any job in this city. Not to mention, when are you going to start dating? I know, I know. You like to be the loner. You always have been. But you should try to…”

  Suzette interrupted, “I met a man tonight. We have a date later this week. Police officer…”

  Claudia scooted in closer, wanting to hear the juicy details, although Suzette saw her eyes were focusing on her bruised hands. The middle sister told the story of the would-be muggers and the nice blond cop who asked her out and got her out of there in no time flat.

  “Any chance I might have seen him recently? Saw this educational video about the mating habits of the police online.”

  Heads turned to Angelique as she finally spoke. Claudia glared at her youngest sister, while Suzette calmly looked over, inwardly beaming at the comment.

  Well played, Angel. Well played.

  Where Claudia was the upstanding example, Suzette the independent professional, Angelique was the consummate rebel. This week, the color of her hair alternated between the natural black, and bleached patches of blonde with streaks of pink and purple spiked out to the side. Her neck was adorned with a spiked choker collar with a cameo in the middle, black and red lace around it. Her skin was pale, with powder making it like porcelain. Her eyebrows, lips, and lashes were a deep black. Her black dinner jacket had been her father’s; large for her thin frame, but she had removed the sleeves, adding spikes on the shoulders. Several rings adorned her hands as she folded them under her chin, making a table to rest her head on. A frilled red undershirt completed the look.

  Suzette shook her head. “I don’t remember seeing him on the video. If he knew I helped upload it, I doubt he would have asked me out.”

  Suzette regarded her younger sister fondly, but also kind of pitied her. Angelique was a wonderful study in the effects of a lifetime of scheduled group activities. Now that she wanted to rebel, to break free, she didn’t have the basic concept on how to be her own person. Everything that represented counterculture in pop media was something she clung to. The penultimate wannabe, screaming inside to be heard over the din of the throngs she had attached herself to.

  Suzette had much the same offer on the table to her little sister that she had with her grandmother. If she needed an escape, there was always a room for her. The trouble with Angelique was once she stayed, she tended not to leave until some argument erupted between the two of them. She wished one day Angelique would find her voice, stop trying to rebel and just rebel.

 
“On a separate note, how are Mom and Dad? You need a place to crash?”

  Angelique turned her head a bit and nodded.

  “How long, few days?” Suzette asked.

  “Longer, if that’s okay? I’m just ready to get out, once and for all.”

  Suzette nodded. “I’ll set you up in the spare room.”

  “Thanks. It’s not like we’re arguing, kinda the opposite.”

  “You want to leave on a high note. I get it.”

  As promised, Suzette got to choose dinner. She decided on fried catfish with macaroni and cheese. If Suzette craved comfort food, she would order good old-fashioned tourist Creole fare.

  Claudia motioned to their grandmother, keeping up the grace and charm. “How have you been? You know, Father is more than happy to help take some of these responsibilities off you. Why won’t you let him?”

  Without missing a beat, Francesca put her back in her place, knowing an attempt to get her to retire from her son when it happened. “I honestly don’t know. It might be something to do with how you now call him Father instead of Dad, like you did until a few years ago.” Francesca looked at the three of them. “It’s just us tonight, can we all agree to drop the acts for once?”

  Claudia looked momentarily shocked, the others looking at her until she nodded quietly, followed by Angelique and then Suzette.

  “Yes, Grandma,” Claudia said under her breath, and then looked up as Francesca’s hand gripped hers.

  “That’s my sweet girl.”

  The four ladies sat in relative silence, enjoying their food, and each other’s company.

  Club Enedium stood in the middle of the Canyon District, by and large the biggest and most exclusive club in Rouge Mal. It was one of the larger server farms for HiveMind, Enedium being both the name of the original server, as well as some long-forgotten meme of which it was named for.

  After a few private parties held by the operators, it became a club for fans of the social media hub. Increased turnout led them to expand the server farm and make it an official nightclub for the net-savvy.

  Phoenix walked to the three-story affair, lights and music pouring from it like blood from a heart, the smiling cat logo emblazoned on the wall above him as he approached the bouncer. Fifty dollars got you entry if you knew your stuff. The bouncer stood at the door, a palm sized mini tablet in hand with a feed to HiveMind, it spat out partial memes, and you only got in if you answered by finishing them correctly.

  The detective watched as club kid after club kid approached, and even a few middle-aged and older people came as well. Enedium was exclusive, but it wasn’t looks that got you in; it was awareness of and being true to the core of the global trends. Phoenix laughed as he listened, before stepping up.

  “Hep Cat, I told you ’bout them escalators…”

  “Oh snap, granny’s dancing.”

  “Pineapple goes where?”

  “From the people who brought you yes comes NO. Now in new HELL NO variety.”

  “POWER CHORD!”

  Phoenix smiled as he approached the door, pointing to the man’s tablet.

  “Hi, I should be on the list for tonight, Ben emailed me this as well.” He presented the ticket, which the security guard scanned on the back of his tablet.

  “Have a pleasant night, Mr. McGee. Enjoy the show.”

  “If I may ask, what is the show, tonight?”

  “Ben booked some band from online; a dude in a leotard singing about buttsex, accompanied by a mute psychopathic ninja on keytar. Oh, hey, I saw that thing you posted. Funny as hell, man!”

  “Thanks!”

  The inside of Club Enedium sprawled out to various theme bars, side rooms, an arcade, a performance hall, and pool tables. For a premium, you could enjoy award-winning dining in the server farm rooms. The detective hiked the collar of his jacket, shining his necklace against his shirt as he walked around. He passed a room with an old artificial rodeo bull had been modded to look like a large foam rocking horse. A distinguished-looking man in his late 30’s to at most late 40’s with a well-trimmed beard rode atop it, bowler hat in hand.

  He walked on to one of the dance floors, a gaggle of friends in their late teens swarming and dancing. Apparently, wearing symbols on your shirts was a new fad he hadn’t seen before, a few of them wearing pajamas. He walked to a young blonde with an up-do hairstyle, nursing a martini in one hand and gesturing with the other. A four-eyed pink cat graced her shirt.

  “Sorry to bother you, I’m looking for the…”

  The girl turned around and squealed. It was apparent she had already had a few drinks.

  “Ohmygawd, you’re that…that…ohmygawd the guy! You’re Jacketguy with the werewolves!” She turned and grabbed one of her friends, a short, angry-looking young man with an astrological symbol on his shirt.

  “Hey. You…you gotta takessh our thing. You know. The thing. Picttcchhhur,” she slurred as he downed more of her drink. Phoenix was only too happy to pose for it. He smiled as the phones and tablets were brought out. One of their friends, seemingly a DJ by the record on his shirt, did a selfie with him in the background. As he left, one of their members staggered up, in yellow pajamas, missing his pants, muttering to himself in an English accent as the others laughed.

  McGee continued around the club, past the large monitors which showcased the most popular memes in real time. The sound rooms played the most popular tracks and audio clips one after another, a cacophonous auditory experience. In the remembrance rooms, those communal online experiences that stood the test of time were stored to be replayed on touchscreens and large desks. He continued to the retro rooms, where the shared experiences of previous generations, the movies, the songs, that preceded most patrons’ births but were nonetheless expected reading and understanding. Soon, he emerged through the labyrinth of the club to the main stage where electronic sounds cascaded over his ears.

  “Phoenix McGee, thought you’d never make it!” Ben yelled as he hopped down from an operations booth. His assistant, a man with dark hair, a black shirt and slacks, and a pair of 3-D glasses took over. Ben gave McGee a high five and a hug.

  “McGee, that video is blowing up. You have to let me have the uncut tapes. I know there’s more to it; give it up man!”

  “Sorry, man, it gets pretty pornographic. I couldn’t let that out in good conscience. Might be bad for business in the long run. Maybe in a few years, okay?”

  Ben scowled but understood, grabbing his jacket.

  He continued, “However, if you wanna stop by sometime and watch it yourself, let me know, okay? So, Ben, thanks again for the ticket. Mind if I’m a bit bold?” Phoenix looked over as the club owner got a couple of blue drinks.

  “By all means.”

  “I saved your life, Ben. Now, I don’t wanna sound ungrateful but a few free drinks for getting you out of the hands of a serial killer is small thanks. Uploading a video that you happen to like gets me VIP. What’s the deal?”

  “Phoenix, don’t think I’m ungrateful. Remember, I only run the club and the server farm. I’m not the top of the ladder here. Making a call like permanent VIP access or Deep Hive access isn’t something I can give away. No one gets that. But you have put something that’s gotten the attention of the HiveMind, you have done the place a solid. I’ll see what I can do for you.”

  “It’s not that, Ben. Heck, I only brought it up because I thought…”

  A bass drop interrupted him and a man in a velociraptor costume rocketed onto the stage. The roar of the crowd grew.

  “I know what you thought, Phoenix. I owe you one. We owe you one. Now you really are one of us, too. You need something, you let me know, okay? If there is such a thing as an inner circle for HiveMind, consider yourself having access. With that in mind, know that access doesn’t mean free. You need something, you pay the piper.”

  McGee nodded his head, if to him or to the beat of the music, Ben wasn’t sure.

  “I can’t stay too late, I got to be up early fo
r interviews. You might wanna let the masses know.”

  “I’m sure someone will record it. Little Brother is watching, McGee.”

  CHAPTER 7

  The nauseating hum of electronics sat on the edge of hearing, when sound and touch became one jumbled mess of indeterminate sensation. Joel slowly came to after what he had hoped was enough rest. The room was cold, and he heard slumbered breathing as he sat up. The sweat on his brow was gone.

  He rose slowly and removed his blindfold, keeping his eyes closed. There was no telltale orange glow. With hesitation, he slowly opened his left eye. Light. Not blinding, not imposing, just a calm, pleasing, low light. His lip quivered as he stood, looking at the room for the first time without worry of damage to his retinas. The room was circular, as he had surmised before, and here and there between the large lengths of lighted wall were tiny places where he could put his fingers in.

  He quietly approached one, hoping this wasn’t some second phase to an elaborate trap, pushing his fingers at a small silver section, 12 inches across and no more than an inch thick. The panel beneath it turned dark and pushed out, and then lowered flush to the floor. A makeshift toilet was built in, unfolding and shining, a gleaming polished chrome.

  Joel gasped for joy as he looked around the room, careful not to disturb anyone as he sat down on it, relieving his aching bowels, and his stretched bladder. It faced inward, with a metal plate for privacy that reached the middle of his back. Sanitary tissues were stationed in front of him set into the open area of the wall. Once he had a chance to satisfy his biological needs, he looked for the first time at his fellow prisoners.

  He had imagined Emma to be darker-skinned for some reason. Her pale complexion remained a reminder of the blinding brilliance the room once had for them. Her brown hair was streaked with crimson, and freckles dotted her cheeks. He had to place her at twenty-five. He had also assumed she was thinner, but she had a full figure, thick in the hips and bust while her arms and fingers remained thin and willowy. The passing touch of her fingers being the only experience they had actually shared.